#and just showing her love and that its okay

[k1ranishf4]

☆ Ink and Instinct ☆

☆ Jason Todd x Female Reader

☆ His muscles were screaming, his bones aching and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed—or to end up in a coma, preferably. Tasteless joke, he knew, considering that he had literally died and came back, but oh well. None of that mattered when he saw his fiancée, though. Or rather, when he saw the pretty black ink on her radiant skin, right where her womb was.

☆ Content tags/warnings: 18+ content, engaged couple, explicit language, horny Jason Todd, explicit content, soft smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, NSFW, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl (1x), my love), praise, reassurance, reader got a womb tattoo without his knowledge, information broker!reader, shameless Jason Todd, newfound breeding kink and its consequences (don’t worry, no pregnancy in this), Jason’s thinking with his dick, momentarily shy reader, ticklish reader, humorous and sweet atmosphere, no beta we die like everyone in DC at some point

The fire escape groaned beneath his boots as he landed on the creaky metal, right in front of your shared bedroom window. It became a routine for him to enter the apartment through the window after patrolling, considering that the front door would raise too much attention to him. No one was supposed to know who the Red Hood was nor where he lived, thank you very much. He checked his surroundings again, like he always did, and then slid the window open to climb inside.

Patrol had been complete bullshit, in his opinion. Chasing down an amateur thief who ended up knocking himself out by running into a brick wall because he had looked back at Jason, disrupting a drug deal by the docks, gunning down Penguin's goons after one of them had spotted him—he was tired. And sore. He didn't even know anymore if the dried drops of blood on his jacket were his or someone else's.

He wanted nothing more than to get rid of his clothes, take a shower and melt next to you in bed. You, his perfect, smart fiancée who entered his life as the best information broker of Gotham's underworld. He sometimes still had moments of realization that, yes, he was, in fact, going to marry you. His heart felt way too heavy with love.

Jason thought you might be asleep by now, cuddled up in the warm sheets and sprawled out over his side of the bed again, despite your insistence that you always stayed on yours. He never asked you to wait up for him and you were out like a light by eleven o'clock sharp most of the time, so it was a surprise to see you still awake, music filling the air from the loudspeaker at a volume that wouldn't disturb your neighbors.

He closed the window gently, not wanting to announce his presence just yet. You were oblivious that he was even there, in the middle of changing. He leaned back against the windowsill and crossed his arms as he watched you, still in his whole Red Hood getup. Sure, okay, it might have been creepy of him to watch you change, but he didn't really see how anyone could blame him.

To him, you were the hottest, most sexiest woman in all of Gotham, hell, in the whole world. Smart, witty, beautiful, and so kind, he could die again and be much happier in his grave this time around. His gaze raked over you behind his helmet's white lenses, taking in every inch of skin you were showing as you stood there in nothing but black lace panties, pulling a shirt over your head and humming along to your favorite song playing in the background.

He smirked with amusement when you turned and yelped, jumping like a scared cat.

"Jason!" You threw the nearest object—an empty deodorant bottle that he didn't know why you still kept—at him and missed, the aluminium bottle clattering on the hardwood floor. "Don't just stand there, asshole, you scared me!"

He smiled at your indignant tone and looked you up and down again. "Calm down, baby. You know it's me," he mused smugly, his voice changed by the voice modulator. He didn't even make a move to take his helmet off or to put his guns inside the safe in the closet, still leaning against the wall.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked with a huff, walking past him to pick the empty deodorant bottle up and putting it back on a shelf instead of just throwing it away, then pausing the music. "Watching me like some creep, instead... Idiot."

But he wasn't listening. His gaze was on your stomach, which was hidden by the shirt again. He could swear that he had seen something there. He watched you reach up to the shelf inside the closet, his eyes still on your stomach while you rummaged through your clothes. For what, he didn't know, nor did he care, because now he could see it clearly.

"Lift your shirt," he said without any kind of context, not even looking at you. His arms were still crossed, but he felt tenser.

"Huh?"

He met your gaze, white lenses meeting hypnotizing but confused eyes.

"Your shirt," he repeated, still making no move to get out of his grimy clothes. "Lift it up."

He kept watching you as you looked at him with confusion for another moment before grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to your stomach.

His breath caught in his throat.

"I was gonna show you eventually," you started rambling, but he wasn't even hearing the words. "I thought it'd be cool, I guess, and I was waiting for it to heal properly, but then you became busier and—"

He called your name softly, so soft it could as well have been deadly. His head slowly lifted, looking into your eyes again. "When did you get it?"

The 'it' in question being a womb tattoo just above the waistband of your panties, a tattoo of his name. Cursive, elegant, the J underlining the rest of the letters and dipping beneath your panties.

He felt his heart race, his head tilting when you didn't answer. "Baby, when did you get that?" He asked again. Exhaustion who? He was more concerned about not jumping your bones right then and there.

Jason slowly got closer to you, gloved hand gently tilting your head up. "Don't be shy now, pretty girl. I just wanna know when you got it without me ever realizing," he reassured.

His thumb gently rubbed circles on your jaw, silently encouraging you not to get all shy on him now. "A few months ago," you mumbled. "Three, I think."

He paused. Months? Months of his name engraved on your skin, on your womb, and he was only seeing it now?

Taking a deep breath, he finally reached up to get rid of his helmet, tossing it on the bed carelessly. His eyes were dark, once emerald now appearing black. "You got my name tattooed right above your pussy and never told me?"

"Don't say it like that!" You slapped his chest, but he only smirked. His pretty fiancée, flustered about a tattoo she had gotten on her own volition.

"It's the truth, no? Fuck, baby." His hands went to your waist, his pants painfully tight. "C'mon. Let's get rid of this, hm?" He lightly tugged at your shirt.

"You haven't even put your guns away—"

"I know." He looked into your eyes. "I'll do that as soon as you're out of this shirt. Promise."

"Jason..." He could hear that you didn't believe him. Which was fair, considering that all of his thoughts were on you. Your body. That tattoo.

He felt dizzy from simply remembering that it was his name. His name. On your perfect body.

How would it look like if you were pregnant?

The thought made Jason pause.

Neither of you had ever brought up the topic of having children, not when you were dating, not now. But fuck, if it wasn't an appealing idea.

He never thought of himself as father material, nor did he have any intention of fantasizing about something that you might not even want, but the thought of your stomach becoming round and full of his child, with his name literally on your skin and claiming you, both of you—shit.

"You'll be the death of me," he told you hoarsely, voice thick with lust. "Get on the bed, baby. I'll put my guns in the safe, I promise, but I need you on that bed."

He'd throw you on it if he had to, but he was forcing himself not to go completely caveman on you. It was the last thing you needed, he could tell from your uncertain expression.

"C'mon." He gently guided you towards the bed, walking slowly with you until the back of your knees hit the edge of it. "Just like that. Sit down, baby."

Only when you were sitting did he go to the closet, helmet in hand, and put it along with his guns inside the safe that he had put there for this purpose. Aside from the things he personally needed as Red Hood, there were also some document files and USB drives that belonged to you—all filled with information about various criminals and crime lords.

You never stopped being his information broker and neither of you intended to change that.

"You're not mad, right?" The uncertainty in your voice made him pause, the fog of lust dissipating just enough for some rationality to return. He locked the safe and looked at you again.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Jason asked, confused. He stood up and walked towards you, sitting down on his knees in front of you and peeling his gloves off.

"I don't know, I just—" He watched you huff, his hands gently running up and down your thighs. "I never told you. I thought..."

"What?" He tilted his head, looking up at you with patience and so much love. His eyes flicked to your throat as you swallowed.

"I thought you might think I'm insane," you confessed quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Jason couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face. "Insane? Baby, the only one going insane right now is me because I'm trying very hard not to fuck you right this instant."

He laughed when you paused, looking at him like he was crazy. His heart swelled when he saw you getting out of that unsure headspace. Insecurity never suited you, in his opinion.

"You're so disgusting," you huffed, and his smile widened at the relieved humor written all over your face.

"That's what you do to me," he grinned. "Now take this shirt off. Please. I wanna see the ink again."

He looked at you with a mix of lust and adoration, not wanting to rush you but also feeling like a feral dog that's hurling its toy across the room.

With a sigh, you took the shirt off and set it aside. "Don't be weird about this," you muttered with faux sternness, making him smile.

"No promises," he winked at you, his hands traveling up your thighs to your hips. "Spread your legs. I need to get closer to you."

"And people say romance is dead," you mumbled as you spread your legs, making him chuckle softly while shifting closer, his lips immediately pressing a gentle kiss on your lower belly.

"You don't know what this makes me want to do," he breathed against your soft skin, his eyes fluttering when he felt your fingers run through the raven strands.

"You mean other than fucking me?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head.

"Oh, you..." He met your grin with his own and stood up, making you lie on your back in the middle of the bed before taking off his boots and settling between your legs.

His heart swelled when you giggled as his lips met your neck. He loved it, loved that you were sensitive and easily ticklish. It made sex even better. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling when you squirmed.

"Hey, now," he murmured against your neck. "No squirming, I haven't even started."

"That tickles!" You protested with a smile as more kisses were littered on your skin, down to your shoulder.

He smiled and pulled back, looking into your eyes. "Let me worship you, baby." His hand went to your lower belly, gently caressing your skin. He took a deep breath, feeling like he might combust.

Jason looked at you when your hand reached for his cheek. "What are you thinking?" You asked, your eyes looking like gems to him.

"You," he rasped. "This tattoo." He took a deep breath. You were his fiancée, sure, but he was still so afraid that he might scare you away. "I'm thinking about what it would look like if you were pregnant."

A crazy thing to say, he knew, as he watched your eyes widen. You weren't even married yet and he was already thinking about knocking you up. Just to see your skin stretch with his baby, with his name on your body.

"Jason—"

"I know," he interrupted, not even giving you the chance to finish speaking. "I won't do anything you don't want me to, I swear to you. But... Fuck, baby, I can't stop thinking about it. What it'd look like if your stomach was round with my name literally on it and our baby inside you."

He hadn't even been aware that he was hard. But he could feel it now, the unbearable tightness of his pants. He swallowed. "We don't have to talk about babies or anything right now. I just..." His hand gently rubbed your womb again. "Let me worship you, baby. Please. Let me show you how much I love this tattoo. How much I love you."

He watched you swallow before nodding. "Words," he murmured. "Give me words, my love."

"Yes," you breathed. "I.. I want you to show me."

That was all he needed.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, but without urgency. This wasn't like the countless heated make-out sessions the two of you had had or the rough sex whenever both or one of you was too pent up to release the emotions verbally.

No, this kiss conveyed all of his love for you, the adoration he felt for you. One of his hands cupped the back of your head when you let out a small noise against his lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

He hummed against your lips when your arms locked around his neck, pulling away with a soft intake of breath before his lips went to your neck.

He smiled as he pressed kisses on your neck, hearing your soft laughs. "You're still ticklish," he murmured against your skin, amusement in his voice.

"I'm blaming you," he heard you say, and laughed.

"Of course you are."

His lips traveled from your neck to your shoulder, down to your collarbones. Both of you started breathing more shallowly as he littered your perfect breasts and stomach with soft kisses, until his lips were on your womb. On that damn tattoo.

He heard your breath hitch when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, but they stayed there. He looked at you, pupils blown wide. "Can I?"

He watched your throat work as you swallowed. "Yes," you whispered. "Please."

"You don't have to beg me. Never beg me, baby." He inhaled sharply as he pressed a kiss on your clothed mound before pulling the black lace off of your body and tossing it on the floor. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

He felt hot. Too hot. His skin was burning as he leaned down and pressed another kiss on your mound, on the small extension of the inked J. His heart was racing, especially when he heard you gasp softly.

"Jay—"

"Shhh, I've got you," he whispered. "Just lie down and let me take care of you, baby." He had to take his jacket off, the leather landing on the floor too. His body was on fire, molten lava coursing through his veins.

He let his eyes wander over your body again before shifting a little further away. "You're perfect," he whispered as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your glistening cunt. He pressed a kiss on your flesh before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, his eyes fluttering as he heard your breath hitch.

He looked up at you. "Tell me to stop if it becomes too much or if something feels wrong," he told you before his mouth closed around your clit, his tongue swirling around it.

The sound of your breathing becoming heavier only turned him on even more as his hands went to your thighs, moving your legs over his shoulders. Death by suffocation wouldn't be a bad way to go if this was how it happened.

"Jason—mmm..." Your breathy moan went straight to his cock, still straining painfully against his pants. He had half a mind not to dry-hump the damn bed while eating you out.

His right hand left your thigh and went up to your wet entrance, slowly easing his middle finger into you as he kept lapping at your clit. The pleased sigh that left your lips made him moan in response, muffled by your flesh.

He added a second finger when you started rolling your hips against his mouth, meeting his fingers with your own movements. He let out a muffled groan and put his free hand on your hip, to keep himself grounded and not to pin you in place.

Jason didn't mind the movement, in fact, he took it as a sign that he was doing a good enough job. He kept his mouth on your clit as his fingers pumped faster in and out of you, your moans and sighs filling the air.

It was over for him when your hands landed in his hair as you arched your back. He could feel your legs trembling while you clenched around his fingers, greedy cunt sucking them in. He kept his ministrations up as he listened to you moaning his name, his eyes on the very tattoo of it on your belly.

"Jay—Fuck, Jason, that feels good—Mmmm—!"

He couldn't see your face from down here, but he didn't need to. His eyes were locked on the tattoo, watching it ripple with your skin as he curled his fingers against the spot that he knew made you see stars, listening to you moan with satisfaction as he repeated it.

"Jason—Jason, Jay—," he heard you mewl and whimper. "I'm gonna—Fuck, I'm gonna—"

It didn't take too long for him to groan in pleasure as he felt you pulling his hair, coating his fingers with your release while your thighs clamped down on his head. His nose was pressed against your skin, the flowery scent of your body lotion mixed with the musky scent of your cum filling his senses.

He worked you through your orgasm, his own body practically vibrating from the lust coursing through his veins. Only when you stopped squeezing his head with your thighs, did he sit up and slowly pull his fingers out of you.

"Shit," he breathed as he watched you pant and come down from your high. His clean hand rubbed your hip and thigh gently, wanting to soothe you as you caught your breath. "Easy, baby. No rush, take your time."

"Jason," you breathed, your eyes meeting his.

"Shhh... Take your time. We can focus on my issue later."

He kept his hand on you until your breathing was relatively normal again and your legs weren't shaking so much anymore. He helped you sit up, letting you use his arm to pull yourself up.

"You okay?" He asked softly, adoration and concern in his eyes as he watched you nod.

"That felt good," you breathed. "Was...really good."

He smiled as you leaned against him, his arm snaking around you and holding you close. He was still uncomfortably hard in his pants, but that wasn't going to stop him from making sure you were okay first. He rubbed your sweaty skin soothingly, letting you take all the time you needed to fully recover.

"Next time," he murmured, "tell me before you get a tattoo. Might save me from having to process it before I can fuck you."

He chuckled when you slapped his chest, muttering something about him being "a filthy animal", and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

He had come home wanting to sleep, but the red light of the digital clock showing him that it was 3:47 A.M. told him that neither of you two would be getting much sleep tonight.

Tomorrow would have to be a lazy day, he supposed, smirking as he watched your hands reach for his belt.

☆ A/N: Let me know if there’s something I can do better, constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoyed!!

☆ 3.4k words

[theresatzu]

Blue Lock characters and being called a simp by their friends

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Featuring: Isagi, Rin, Bachira, Zantetsu, Nagi & Reo

Tropes: Fluff, boyfriend!bluelockcharacter

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Isagi Yoichi

Stammers, blushes, gets flustered. Tries to deny it but fails miserably.

"What? No, I'm not." Isagi crossed his arms, looking away petulantly.

"Oh, you so are!" Bachira exclaimed, poking his reddened cheek.

"Shut up!"

"Deny it all ya want, but anyone can look through that act." Hiori snickered.

"Okay then, name one example." Isagi crossed his arms.

"Remember the time you ran out in the rain, because Y/n forgot to bring her umbrella. Without jacket, too!"

Isagi went bright red. "That... that was just because..."

Bachira brightened, "You guys remember when he went all sulking because Y/n couldn't make it to his game?"

"What? No! I wasn't sulking!" Isagi disconcurred, but even to him his voice seemed weak.

"And remember when--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" Isagi slapped his hand over Hiori's mouth, face bright red.

"Maybe... maybe I'm a little bit of a simp--"

Bachira let out a burst of devilish laughs, pressing the off button of his phone.

"I RECORDED IT!"

"I'm showing this to Y/n."

"YOU TRAITORS--"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Itoshi Rin

Vehemently refutes the argument like a lashed out cat, but anyone can tell he's lying through his teeth.

Rin's phone pinged, signalling an incoming text message. Rin spared it a cursory glance before huffing, the corners of his lips twitching upwards ever so slightly.

"Wait a second... Rin, are you smiling?" Isagi said, disbelievingly.

"What? No." Rin immediately denies.

"You are." Isagi stated, a grin of his own forming on his lips. "You were totally smiling at your phone just now. Were you texting someone? Wait... is it..."

Rin's neck blossomed into a red hue.

From anger, obviously.

"Shut the fuck up, you don't know what you're talking about." Rin hissed, his lips pulled back into a snarl.

"Okay. Then show me your phone." Isagi deadpanned.

"...no."

Isagi raised an eyebrow. "If you've got nothing to hide, then why are you getting so nervous? Or is it because of Y/--"

Rin threw a football against Isagi's face, effectively cutting him off.

"Shut the fuck up, you goddamn immature NPC. Don't you have anything else to do? Like train for example? Instead, you're here dwelling on my love life, like some goddamn idiot." Rin snapped, eyes narrowed and fists balled.

He then stormed out of the room, but not before throwing a dead glare over his shoulder.

Isagi was left behind, stunned and with a bruised face.

Despite that, he was smiling knowingly.

Love life, huh?

Rin had actually acknowledged it.

And he hadn't even noticed.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Bachira Meguru

Owns up to it, like its a Nobel Prize.

"You're such a goddamn simp, it's actually annoying. Am I the only normal person here?" Rin grumbled.

"Me? A simp?" Bachira pointed at himself, flummoxed.

Rin threw him a disgusted look. "Yes, you. Now get out of my face, you're going to make me puke."

Bachira looked at Isagi, a questioning look in his eyes.

Isagi shrugged in return. "I mean... he has a point."

Eyes lighting up, Bachira stalked up to Rin, undeterred by the withering look Rin shot him.

"You mean it? Really?"

"Get out of my face, blunt bangs." Rin snarled.

Bouncing away from Rin, before Rin would actually singlehandedly strangle him, Bachira singsang, "Rin-chan's just jealous I have a beautiful girlfriend whom I love very much."

Rin eyed him, disparagingly, "You're actually revolting."

"No, I'm a simp!" Bachira laughed delightedly.

"If you won't stop screeching like a damned banshee, you'll be dead."

"Simp, simp, simp!"

"Now he's asking for it, lukewarm NPC."

Isagi's eyes widened, concern flitting over his expression.

"Wait Rin... what are you doing? Wait... Why are you picking up that chair? Wait... no, don't throw it--"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°��°•°●°●°

Zantetsu Tsurugi

Absolutely clueless. He doesn't have the faintest clues as to what it entails.

"I'm a... dimp?" Zantetsu echoed, blinking owlishly.

Reo rolled his eyes. "A simp, dumbass."

Nagi rolled over, his eyes bleary. "Reo, why are you trying to explain it to him? It's such a hassle. He won't understand anyway."

Pushing his glasses against his face, Zantetsu tilted an eyebrow. "So I'm a "simp". That must mean that I can make things with much easity."

Reo facepalmed. "You mean, you can handle things with much ease."

None the wiser, Zantetsu responded. "That's what I just spoken."

Nagi sighed.

Shaking his head, Reo snickered.

"He's not only a simp, he's dumb, too."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Nagi Seishiro

Shrugs it off. He's really casual about it. He doesn't really care. (Internally, he's smiling)

"Lazy slug? Are you actually... moving?" Barou watched him with an incredulous look on his face.

Nagi blinked at him. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Bachira chimed in, "It looks like you've been possessed. What happened with "everything being a hassle"?"

Nagi trudged on. "I need to get something from the grocery store for Y/n, that's all. It's not a hassle."

It's not a hassle.

It's not a hassle.

I t s n o t a h a s s l e

"Wow..." Bachira said, awe-struck.

"What a goddamn simp." Barou shook his head. "If he even put as much effort in his football as he does in that relationship, he might actually be a decent player."

"Hey now... I beat you in a one-on-one." Nagi retorted. "Anyway, I'm off now. Speaking with you is such a bother."

Then Nagi walked off.

"Hey! Come back here! Pick up your dirty socks!"

"You're closer, do it for me, King." Nagi called back.

"What?!" A vein bulged on Barou's forehead.

"Tch. Can't even do something as simple as picking up the laundry."

"But he's actually going all the way to the grocery store, huh?"

Well yeah. Nagi Seishiro was a slug through and through, but when he was actually motivated to do something, he would set his mind to it.

And well, maybe doing these things once in a while wasn't really a hassle.

Especially if it was for you.

If that made him a simp, well, it wasn't necessarily an insult, was it?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Mikage Reo

Flustered, but covers it up with confidence. (He's thinking about it afterwards).

Reo softly glanced at the hairtie you'd given him before his game, spinning it around his finger as he smiled slightly.

"You've been staring at that raggedy thing for over five minutes now." Chigiri asserted flippantly.

Flinching as he was startled out of his revery, Reo coughed, attempting to cover up his momentarily zoning-out.

"Have I? Ha, I must be tired then."

"Are you now?" Chigiri fixed him with a pointed stare.

"You don't look tired. In fact, you look pathetic. I thought you had hit rock bottom when you lost Nagi, but when you're separated from your girlfriend, you turn even more untolerable. Staring at that... thing."

"Hey!" Reo sat up, an indignant expression on his countenance. "I'm not untolerable. See," He threw away the hairpiece.

A beat passed.

"You want to pick it up, don't you."

"...yeah."

"God, you're such a simp." Chigiri shook his head dismayfully, his opulent red locks swishing elegantly with the motion of his head.

Reo's eyes shot open, and the tips of his ears turned red. "Wah-- me? I mean... pfft. You have to treat your partner right, right? That includes the gifts they give you, too."

Chigiri gave him an impassionate glance. "Even when it has already outlived its purpose?"

Scoffing, Reo pivoted on his spot. "I can still use it."

Chigiri raised his arms in the air in a disarming manner. "Sure. Alright. But don't go lending my elastics when yours break."

The redhead shuffled out of the room, his hair swaying behind him, as if taunting Reo.

Scowling, Reo sat down.

He chanced a look at the hairpiece in his hand.

Should I throw it away?

His hand reached the bin can, but he couldn't let go of the object.

Sighing, he wrenched the tie around his wrist.

For good luck. No other reason.

His cheeks flushed.

Reo groaned, burying his head in his arms.

Maybe he really was a simp.

[ds-angel1]

cw: smut(18+), piss kink, shoe riding, rafe is mean, hair pulling, degradation, dub-con i suppose, he kinda kicks her in the kitty but not hard

a/n: this was a request, kinda feel like the writing sounds really weird but at least I wrote something...

Rafe was pissed.

The whole day you had been so damn annoying and so damn demanding. Not only did you throw a tantrum about the breakfast he made you, aka the bagel he stole from Barry´s house when he was there last night, but you also followed him around to every damn place he went, begging and tugging on him for attention. He was so done with you and your clingy attitude.

Your feet failed to keep the rhythm of stepping one in front of the other as Rafe gripped your hair and shoved you through the doorway. The lost balance caused you to end up tumbling down onto the marble floor, your skirt fluttering up as the cold material cooled your sun-baked skin.

“What the fuck?!” Rafe yelled, his strong voice grounding its way through all the halls and corners of the large, empty house. Sheepishly, you lifted your head to look up at him, his body so tense and rigid, you´d think he was standing on a landmine.

“You think you can just do that? Fuckin´ act like a desperate pathetic puppy all day, embarrassing me?” His eyes, ever so inclined to show their beautiful blue shade because of how wide they strung because of his anger, met yours, fluttering as your mind scrambled and sprinted to find a way to solve this.

“I could replace you any fucking day, you know that?” That made you pause, looking up at him as your lips parted and your expression contorted into a look that truly embodied pure despair.

Fuck, now he felt sorry.

“C´mere,” he ordered, his head nodding towards you. He wouldn´t actually ever leave you or replace you, he knew that, but you didn´t need to. It kept you in line, the fear of being left alone, different from the fear he insisted in you in other instances, the fear that you craved.

It was only a good 2 meters or so and you were already sitting in front of him, you opted to crawl across the grey floors knowing how much he loved it when you did stuff like that. No matter how much of a thorn you were in every side he had, you always just wanted to please him, to be ordered and owned by him.

His fingers gripped your hair again, yanking you into his legs, your head hitting his thigh as you let out a surprised screech. Then without even a single moment to recover, you suddenly felt his Oxford creep up your thighs, meeting your now aching cunt with a brutal force. A yelp left you as you head-butted his thigh.

“Ride it.”

Your heart started to race, your eyebrows wrinkling together. “…what?”

“You wanted attention, now you fucking got it. Ride my fucking shoe like the attention whore you are.”

“Rafe…” you whined, looking up at him pleadingly, your lips sticking out in a pout.

His foot pushed upwards even harder, moving back and forth as his eyes ordered you to do as he said, or else.

“No, Rafe, I have to pee,” you murmured shamefully, tugging at his khakis to stop. It was true, the full day of following Rafe around didn’t seem to involve going to the bathroom. You planned on going after Rafe was done putting you in your place but now that his shoe was between your legs and you were in this position, your bladder was ready to be emptied.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” He spat out, pulling your hair harsher than before and rubbing his hard, dark-brown Oxford even harder into your sex. “Do it.”

A moment went by where no sound at all left either of you and no noise was present throughout the whole villa.

“O- okay…” you whispered, each of your short breaths ending on a sharp note.

Slowly, Rafe put his foot down, the leather crashing down on the marble barking out a loud thwack. With a shaky movement to it, you sank down, your thong-clad core meeting his shoe. As you looked up into his mardy blue eyes with your fluttering ones, you rolled your hips, pressing your hips firmly down to catch that satisfying friction to ease yourself.

Rafe´s smirk grew wider and crueler as you continued grinding yourself down on his foot, hitched whines and pathetic whimpers coming from you as you did. Your lower abdomen burned with the sensation of needing release.

“It hurts,” you wailed, gripping his pants tightly to keep you from toppling over.

“What hurts, baby?” he cooed, the hand he had in your hair, forcing you to show him even more of your contorted face.

“I have to pee…”

You sounded so desperate, Rafe loved it, he loved the way your hips twitched when his shoe moved up against your soaked sex again, the leather pushing against your smarting clit and palpitating hole, he loved the way your eyes widened in panic when he hissed, “Fine. Then do it. Now. Here.”

You looked up at him, checking if he meant it; if he was really about to make you do something so degrading, so humiliating, so mortifying.

The slight nod of his head told you he was in fact serious about this. With one last roll of your hips and your eyes tightly clamped shut, you let go, letting the painful press of your full bladder be expelled all over your boyfriend's expensive shoe and floor.

“Fuckin´ pathetic.” You heard Rafe curse under his breath as you continued feverishly moving your cunt over his now-wet shoe, chasing an even better high than the one you just experienced a moment ago.  

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle.

CLEARLY you all are desperate for an actual story on this blurb I quickly wrote up, so if this part 1 does well, I’ll make it into a series! I also can’t decide who I should ship reader with… Conner Kent maybe?? Let me know if that sounds good ♡

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don’t have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this potential series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family. reader is somewhat introverted and is describe loosely as attractive. Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest. READER ALSO HAS NO IDEA THAT THE WAYNE FAMILY ARE SUPERHEROS (for now…)

TW: Abuse in the form of emotional neglect, Reader’s mom is dead, Pregnancy and rich people.

You weren’t a kid anymore. Part of you wonders if you ever got the chance to be one. Your mom died when you were pretty young, barely 6 at the time, you don’t remember much about her. She was pretty though, maybe that’s where you got your looks from?

You spent 4 years at an orphanage after her passing, until one day a car came and picked you up and took you to a big manor. Apparently Bruce Wayne was your father, but not just an adoptive one, your biological father. That was definitely shocking, You looked so much like your mother that you really couldn’t see the resemblance, maybe if you really focused you could see some aspects of the new father you suddenly gained.

You only met Bruce a handful of times, the first time was to greet you. He seemed particularly disinterested, you were only just a bit younger than Jason which he was currently focused on at the time. Bruce showed you to your room it was way bigger than your room in the orphanage then promptly disappeared, Alfred (who you came later to learn was the butler and NOT your new grandfather.) showed you around the rest of the Manor, claiming that Bruce had paperwork that needed more attention than his newly gained child, okay, he didn’t put it like that but that’s basically what he ment.

The Manor was big and rather empty, you wonder what the point of all this space was as a child. As you grew older you grew to understand and appreciate its big and emptiness, because then you couldn’t run into any of your other siblings. Whenever you meet them, it’s awkward, like you’re an outsider. Which you suppose you are, but it’s different because you later learn that all of your siblings were adopted, minus Damian but you only gained him as your sibling towards the end of your stay in the Manor. So why did they treat you like you were the odd when out, when they all should know perfectly how that feels since they were also outsiders at one point? To this day you have no clue.

You quickly grew adjusted to not being around your family. The first the phew years was difficult, you craved their attention like any normal child. You remember you used to cry at night as a kid wondering what you did wrong for them to barely even glance your way, to not even love you… but after the third birthday with the exact same gift you got on previous birthdays from Bruce, continually getting rejected by all your siblings on your offers to hang out and occasionally catching wholesome moments between your siblings and Bruce where they were chatting and laughing without you, You naturally gave up on trying.

You instead grew as a person without them, you made friends at school, developed your own personal fashion taste, you discovered your hobbies and your personality. You occasionally heard news about your family from Alfred (You never got used to only hearing news from him), like how Jason died, Tim was brought in, turns out Jason was alive and at some point Damian was also brought in. The timeline was messy. Honestly you didn’t think much about why Bruce adopted so many damn kids nor did you bother to concern yourself with their affairs.

Instead you discovered somethings more important. Number one is your huge allowance, you knew Bruce was a billionaire and filthy, disgustingly rich, but not to the point your allowance was in the MILLIONS. The second thing is nobody cares about you, to the point one time when you were around 17 you stayed at a friend’s house for two days without telling anyone, came back and apparently no one had any idea you even left when you asked Alfred.

Those two things got you to where you were now, a stunning and safe apartment with the most beautiful view in the whole of Gotham, a loving husband who would do practically anything for you, heavily pregnant in your 20s and currently surrounded by your shocked family.

You had a fight with your husband and you were livid at him deciding to spend some time at the Wayne Manor just to cool off (and to somewhat teach him a lesson), You honestly thought that nobody would care when you came waltzing back. Since nobody cared any other time.

However you were sorely mistaken. To the point you regret not just staying at a hotel or something. When you first walked through the door, Alfred greeted you. You were occasionally in contact with him, but you neglected to tell him about the pregnancy, let alone the fact you were married mainly because you knew he’d run and tell the entire family and you’d rather keep your life private from them. Which is probably why he stopped mid greeting to stare at your belly. It looked like he was buffering as he let you in and led you to the kitchen, you texted him on the ride there that you were a bit thirsty, so he prepared you some tea.

“My word, you’re really pregnant?” Alfred finally said once you sat down at one of the counters, which earned a chuckle from you as he slid your tea over to you.

“Last time I checked… which was in a mirror and when I felt the little gremlin kicking around in me on the drive here, I am.” You say with a smile before proceeding to chug your tea. “May I ask-” Alfred starts but before he can finish he’s interrupted by Damian, who entered the kitchen to grab some snacks at some point but instead noticed you.

“What on earth is that.” Damian hissed, he looked disturbed and disgusted as he pointed at your belly, like he just discovered a bug. Which ticked you off.

“An Alien, no use your head what does it look like?” You sarcastically reply. Normally Damian would’ve retorted however you quickly decide that you want to relax in the living room where you could continue your conversation with Alfred. As you and Alfred quickly leave, abandoning your empty tea cup, and finally settling in the living room. However you suddenly hear a STORM of footsteps from inside the house. You turn around and realize Damian followed you to the living room, phone in hand and clearly had texted the entire family about his new discovery.

“Fuck me…” you mutter softly, your peaceful days of being ignored were probably officially over. All thanks to your one dumb decision to come here. While you silently regretted your choices, almost the entire Wayne family had run into the living room, Tim was the first to run in shouting “WHO’S PREGNANT?”

You only really snap out of it when you notice the entire Wayne family staring at you, they got here faster than expected. Not all of them were here but most of them.

‘Maybe I really am carrying an Alien’ You ponder momentarily before you begin to speak, “Listen I’m only here momentarily because I had a small disagreement with my husband—” “HUSBAND?” Dick squeaks out his voice breaking in shock. “Yes— wait why are you all here anyways?” You say as it dawns on you how ridiculous this whole reaction was. Hell even BRUCE WAYNE, the supposed father you were under the care of, that you never saw for the majority of your life was even here.

“Well cause you know Bruce is always bringing home kids it’s the first time someone other than him is bringing home one, let alone an unborn one.” Cassandra pointed out, which you promptly agreed nodding your head. That explains it, to this damn family it must be pretty alien.

“Okay, well I’m pregnant. I get it shocking and stuff but there’s no need to—“ You say trying to calm down the situation when you are interrupted by Damian who’s pointing at your belly where your baby, as if sensing the crowd of spectators, decided to do its own acrobatic routine.

“Ew why is it moving….” Damian said, You’re starting to wonder why you even talk. “Don’t say ew. It’s just kicking, if you want you can touch my belly—” you regret those words instantly as around 20 hands immediately fly to touch your belly where the baby continues to kick. You’d almost find the whole situation adorable if it weren’t for the fact they were your family who previously didn’t give a flying fuck about you.

All of a sudden Bruce, noticing your uncomfort, clears his throat. When he does the 20 hands resend from touching your belly, “How far along are you?” He asks calmly but you can clearly hear his voice shake slightly. “7 months.” You reply calmly to which Damian opens his mouth again.

“Jesus when is it going to come out— wait how does it come out…” He still look horrified to which you suppressed a laugh. “Did no one teach you where babies come from?” You laugh and then pause when the room goes silent.

“Oh my god…” you mutter, no wonder he’s so disturbed. You hear Bruce quickly whisper to Selina “I thought you told him!” To which Selina fires back, “Me?! It’s your job!”

That’s your cue to leave before you have to witness a very uncomfortable conversation. “Okay, I’m going to go to my room, I’m tired.” To which everyone nods giving you space to leave.

Phew hours had gone by and you were relaxing in bed on your phone, when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in!” You call, assuming it was Alfred but instead the one who came waltzing in was Damian. He looked awkward and you definitely felt that as well.

“Hello.” He said as he walked over to you staring at you where you were lying down.

“Uh… Hi Damian… how can I help you?” You ask praying he just going to briefly insult you and walk away like he did in the past. Instead he looks curious.

“I have been educated on where kids come from. It is very disturbing.” You chuckle at his statement and at his face full of regret while putting your phone away.

“It’s not too bad, at least you learned from your parents and not your friends half way into high school.” You say smiling reaching out and patting his small shoulder at your own memory of your shocked friends as they held your hand in the bathroom and slowly explained it to the poor naive you.

“Yes that sounds way worse.” He admits as you laugh at his sentiment, to which he scowls a bit before snapping out of it. “Anyways, like I said, I have been educated and although it’s very disturbing I commend your bravery for creating life.”

Damn it, he made it awkward again. You resend your hand awkwardly and place it back on your chest, Damian continues speaking though. “I also did some research and apparently the fetus can hear around the 5th month, and since you said it’s in the 7 month stage it can hear. Which means it heard me insulting it.”

You nod at his words, encouraging him to get whatever he’s planning on doing over with already. When he sees your nod, he removes his hands from behind his back, he’s holding a book.

“So to replace my negative words I have brought an educational book, normally I know perhaps the other parent my read so the baby gets used to both your voices, however since your a single parent—“

you give him an incredulous look “no… I have a husband.” To which he stares at you like your pants are on fire, that’s how much of a liar he thinks you are.

“Yes… right.. well since this supposed husband isn’t here to read to your child I shall.” He plops himself beside you, not accepting any protests from you about how you really do have a husband, he begins to read, you give in closing your eyes, clearly you’re going to be here awhile. “Law 1. Always make those above you feel comfortably superior…” you scrunch your face at his words as he reads. Half way into chapter one your eyes fly open and realize that he’s actually reading.

“Are you reading 48 laws of power right now?” You say staring at the book he’s holding as you prop yourself up on your elbows. He gives you a look like you just said the sky was blue.

“Yes of course? It needs to come out smart. Now please lie back down.” He says pushing you to lie back down. You give in once again, you’re too tired to protest against Damian anyways…

At some point both you and Damian passed out, the book could only hold both your interests long enough and the warmth of your room was just perfect for a nap. You stare down at the still sleeping Damian, whose head is currently resting on your belly, contemplatively. In someways you were jealous he fit in perfectly with the Wayne family and was actually treated like their sibling and child. However on the other hand you were honestly glad you were not loved like he was, because if you were you would’ve never met your husband (that you are now starting to miss…) and you also would’ve never been given the opportunity to create your own family, one that will love you truly.

You didn’t like the fact that Damian used to insult you occasionally in the past, but it’s not like you held it against him and you also don’t regret making fun of him back. Although he was a brat at times, he was still a child. A child in a huge messy family that just happened to be your little brother. Perhaps that was the gnawing feeling in your heart. The knowledge such a small kid like him will probably struggle in someways you used to is weighing heavy on you. He was earnest, and clearly tried his best from the fact alone he came to your room to read a book that he knew would help the baby… even if that book was the laws of power and was incredibly boring (in your opinion.)

He was just like you when you were smaller. That thought made you gently reach down and stroke his head. “I hope you’ll only make smart choices, but even if you don’t I’ll still love you, my dear. Just remember, don’t hold onto people who will never hold you gently and lovingly. After all, You are the most precious thing to me and you will be precious to so many others. You are worth your weight in gold.” You whisper to the sleeping boy, the same words your mother said at her passing. You feel yourself getting chocked up, after all this day was full of emotions for you. And you aren’t quite ready to face those emotions so you close your eyes.

After saying all those words and remembering the things you’d almost rather forget you find yourself pulled back into sleep. This time though, Damian had a small smile etched on his face as he slept..

[bbybhr]

The lipstick

Apparently having a neatly applied lipstick is a luxury that the warlords wife can't offered. but worry not, you can have smudged lipstick together.

You’d spent the better part of the afternoon chasing the perfect shade. Not just any crimson, but one that held a certain defiance, a boldness that mirrored something within you. Finally, after mixing and blotting and layering, there it was. You leaned back from the vanity mirror, a satisfied sigh escaping your lips as you admired your work.

The door to your shared quarters creaked open, and you glanced up in the mirror to see Ambessa. Moving with a quiet grace. She stepped in closing the door, her gaze instantly finding you.you smiled at her,acknowledging, but continued working on your make-up nonetheless...stillness settled over her, the usual sharp angles of her expression softening ever so slightly as her golden eyes remained fixed on you with an intensity.

Then, she moved, her steps measured as she closed the distance between you. She reached out, her touch surprisingly gentle as she tilted your chin up with a single, calloused finger, turning your head towards herself. Her thumb brushed lightly under your lower lip as she studied your handiwork with a critical eye, a smile showing up on her lips.

"That color..." Ambessa began, her voice a low murmur, her gaze still locked on your mouth. "...it's magnificent on you."

A playful flush warmed your cheeks. "Really? You think so?" you asked, looking up to her... a hint of pride in your voice.

A slow, almost predatory smile touched the corners of her lips. "Hmm," she mused, her golden eyes gleaming. "Let's be certain."

And then she leaned down, her kiss taking you by surprise with its sudden intensity. It was a hungry kiss, demanding and possessive, her lips molding to yours as if she were claiming a piece of you, her tongue demanding to enter,and as soon as you allowed it, she began tasting you, savouring all she could. Time seemed to melt away as the kiss deepened. It went on for a long moment, she nipped at your bottom lip before finally pulling back, leaving your lips tingling and yourself utterly breathless.

You blinked, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, kiss drunk...that's what you were. "Ambessa!" you exclaimed, lingering pleasure in your voice. That was until you saw her lips...the smudge crimson stain on them...gods she had ruin your makeup...you turned to look back into the mirror "ambessa!!" You called her name again this time with annoyance

Ambessa simply met your gaze in the mirror, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she put her hands on your shoulder, leaning so her stained lips could meet your ears. "Reapply it."

You sighed dramatically, picking up your brush again, carefully retracing the blurred lines. "Let me see" she said turning your face once again nodding at your clean work she leaned in once more, suddenly , her lips met yours again, a swift, decisive kiss that for sure was going to leave another mark...you whined in her mouth hitting her shoulder lightly before she pulls back with that smug expression... she was holding back her laughter...you could tell. You glared.

"Okay, fine! If you love it so much..." You stood up grabbing her arm, pulling her (she allowed it) down to sit on the chair infront of the vanity, she looked at you with amusement...her smile never fading. "Your turn. Hold still," you commanded with mock seriousness as you picked up your brush.

With exaggerated care, you began to apply the crimson lipstick to her lips. Ambessa watched you, her hands coming up to rest on your hip, her thumbs tracing a pattern, surprisingly compliant. she allowed you to do your work in silence. Her golden eyes followed your every move. When you were finally done, you stepped back, as much as her hands allowed, admiring your work.

Ambessa turned her face towards the mirror examined her reflection, looking at the newly colored lips thoughtfully, she raised her eyebrows at the shade, good enough. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face as she turned back to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Well," she purred, her voice laced with amusement and something deeper. "What kind of wife i am if I Don't treat us both...equally."

Before you could respond, she pulled you in,one her hand coming up to the back of your neck. She kissed you soundly, leaving yet another imprint of her crimson-stained lips on yours, ruining the perfect application, before letting go of your head, her hand on your hip tugged you close, now making you sit on her lap.

You were poker upon the sight of her ruined lipstick...narrowing your eyes at your wife.

She laughed.

[earlgreytea68]

I want to thank everyone for all of your good wishes and thoughts over the past few days. I've seen all of them, although I have been bad about responding. In truth, I am feeling emotionally exhausted, which I feel like is only to be expected. My mother (who honestly I depend on an alarming amount, I have to be honest about it) is recovering from surgery and not herself, my grandmother is never exactly easy to care for given her dementia and now things are more dramatic in the wake of the mini-strokes, I'm basically serving as a nurse for two recovering patients while also maintaining my actual full-time job (much love to my sisters who help SO MUCH but they have kids and I don't so they have other demands on their time so that's how it goes), I still don't have a bathroom and I had to have multiple fights with insurance companies just to get the most basic questions answered and then because I'm me I managed to make myself feel GUILTY over having to fight about this whole thing like it's my fault and like I need to internalize any more guilt than I already have about current life conditions

and oh, yeah, the country is collapsing and I'm incredibly privileged and I know it, but still: the country is collapsing and I'm a lawyer so it's a certain vantage point on the ongoing legal battles that is its own source of stress right now

so on top of everything else there's also my major resentment that all these people voted for a world where none of us can just take care of sick loved ones in peace because instead we have to worry about the collapse of the rule of law

so like, does it help to recognize that I am feeling emotionally exhausted????? lol ANYWAY, I guess it helps to write it all down and acknowledge that it's okay that I'm feeling this way

I'm handling things as well as I can by trying to just manage every avenue of stress in smaller doses, which I think is probably all we can ever do, and by leaning heavily on my main coping mechanism for two decades now of watching shows about cooking and home renovation

HUGS TO EVERYONE, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS, IT HELPS NOT TO FEEL SO ALONE

[halitis]

dc characters as canines/felines!!

so these are obvi just my thoughts.... and most of these will be domesticated, as i think only those of high standing tend to be like. Big cats and wolves and stuff ;p (also fellas i promise this isnt just batfam. its actually mostly arrowfam)

hal jordan - staffy as someone who owns a staffy? this fuck ass dog is so hal coded. feral little freak with such a polite smile :]

bruce wayne - cougar okay hear me out... these guys are fucking SCARY man.... i do not like them :[ they also tend to be quite solitary creatures which i feel fits

clark kent - labrador i think they r so similar.... look at his floppy face. thats clark baby!

[continued under read more]

barry allen - whippet look at those big wet sad eyes.... look at them :[ thats barry!

bart allen - jack russel terrier "um. oh god. have you seen them do their little rat races? where they go in their barns and they chase rats into tunnels and when their owners go to pick them up they fling themselves back so they can keep looking at the rats? yeah that." - @softsadrainy my bart consultant

oliver queen - lion i think that the beard lines up with the mane and i also just think he is a very Proud man.... very liony :3

dinah lance - russian blue what a distinguished little thing! idk. i had a russian blue once and i think they are just so similiar....

roy harper - coyote friendly little guy :D they like to spar and i think they are goofy.

connor hawke - american bobtail idk. i have no reasoning. he just is.

mia dearden - german rex this is a weird breed of cat, in that they typically arent even recognised as a breed. (typically ull just see the cornish rex) but i think these guys are great! they are super smart cats, who when under-stimulated will cause chaos and are pretty playful. anyway i just love them. i think they look goofy :3

jade nguyen - norwegian forest cat i was gonna do a different cat for jade (british shorthair) but then this breed popped up on my searches and i was instantly reminded of her in the yj show. why is that actually just. her.

linda park - cocker spaniel i knew someone who had a cocker spaniel once and the dog was so incredibly funny. was a strange little thing and i loved it! so. therefore its linda. she is also a funny and strange beasst <3

wally west - german shepherd i have no idea Why but wally is absolutely german shepherd vibes. do not @ me or correct me. im right. you can argue with the wall i dont caaare!

damian wayne - cheetah look at this little beast. he's so spiky. they have it in common

[misscammiedawn]

TAGGING LIST CONTINUED (because Tumblr only allows 100 links per post)

Fandom Tags:

Rush (the band) - Our favorite band. The First Constant. London (the city) - Our hometown. The Second Constant. Coffee (the drink) - Our favorite drink. The Third Constant.

Ace Attorney - Meme factory. Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul - Meme factory. Castlevania - We like Vania. We just don't post about it often. Celeste - Trans folx can double jump. Plural folx can triple jump. Control - Jesse is such a great character. Faden/Pope forever. DBZ - Mostly shitposting but I often defend that Z is well written. DC Comics - I guess DC are okay. They're not Marvel though. Disco Elysium - Socioeconomic theory through the lens of a human disaster. Discworld - Best fantasy author. Dropout/Game Changer - I love silly improv fools and their dumb torture gameshow Dungeon Meshi - Autistic representation and Italian wlw monsterfuckers. Final Fantasy - We played Seven through to Ten (2025 update: and are now so hopelessly addicted to fourteen that it has its own tag) Final Fantasy XIV - Mostly WoL OC stuff (her name is Honoria and she is a Fae, DK main) but I use this tag for all FFXIV stuff specifically. We are on Crystal-Zalera Server. The Good Place - The best mainstream philosophy show. Heaven Will Be Mine - Chicks dig giant robots. Mechs and queer theory. (Worst Girls Games like We Know The Devil are also in this tag) House of Leaves - That damned maze that my mind is trapped in forever. Hulk - Hulk is our favorite. DID sad boi and angry fail system forever. In Stars and Time - Trauma, time loops and coins with two sides. Kingdom Hearts - How many kids can fit in that heart anyway? Leverage - Meme factory. Parker is best thief. Marvel Comics - We are an unabashed Marvel fangirl. Metal Gear Solid - Used to be one of our faves. It's beautifully stupid. Mr. Robot - Our favorite TV show. It has its flaws but it heals. Neon Genesis Evangelion - We love this series more than we have words for. Pathologic - Existentialism and prickly pricks. We like Clara a lot. Penlight - VN that educates on the dangers of hypnokink and the joys when done right. Persona - Used to be big into this franchise but not so much these days. Phantom of the Opera - The musical is kinda hypnohorny, okay? Of The Devil - Ace Attorney/Death Note hybrid with toxic yuri and fascinating sociopolitical themes in a cyberpunk dystopia. Sailor Moon - Don't post here much but the aesthetic and vibes are peak. Scott Pilgrim - Canadian boy who is the worst and manic pixie trans girlfriend. Severance - Plurality and the cult of corporate. She-Ra - Catra is our BPD cat wife. We love her. Signalis - Sapphic existential horror with robots, time loops and SYMBOLISM! Sonic - You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum that raised me. Sonic fandom forever. Spider-Man - Spidey is also a sad boi. Ben Reilly is our favorite. Star Wars/Star Trek - As an in-joke to ourselves we tag both franchises as "Star Stuff" Superman - Mostly My Adventures With... but tag works for comics and other forms too. Tabletop RPG - General tag for all tabletop and roleplay related stuff. Tamora Pierce - Second best fantasy author. Ted Lasso - Mental health and footie mens. Saccharine show. Tsukutabe - Adorable yuri manga about asexual women finding love and themselves. It's Madison/Belladonna if you replaced the hypnosis with meals. Tumblr :) - I love it here! Tumblr :( - I hate it here =/ Twin Peaks - Best TV show. Umineko - Meme factory and earnest story about generational trauma. X-Men - Marginalized communities fight for their rights in the best soap opera. Zelda - Link. HE COME TO TOWN!

Post Highlights:

Time Loops and Dissociation - A 5 act breakdown of how In Stars and Time exemplifies the allegory of time loops while depicting a protagonist with Complex PTSD.

Dissociative Disorders and Hypnosis - At Charmed 2024 a 101 class taught not to hypnotize people with mental illnesses that include dissociation. I FIRMLY disagree and explain how to safely work with dissociative partners.

Ethical Personality Play - A post about how hypnosis personality play is edge play and though I discourage anyone doing it, if you must, I will teach you how to do it safely. I have a lot of experience.

Recontextualized Memory and Unprocessed Trauma in Umineko - A rundown of how the murder mystery visual novel Umineko handles the topics of PTSD, complicated grief and unprocessed trauma memories with an explanation of distorted Core Beliefs and how the mind recontextualizes memories as they are retrieved throughout a person's life.

Mr. Robot DID Representation - Why I think Mr. Robot has the best representation of DID in popular fiction and why the ending was a complete fumble of the ball.

Mr. Robot Back to the Future & Brainwashing - How Whiterose brainwashed Angela, focused on psychological principles being abused and how the show's reliance on pop culture references influences in and out of universe.

For editing purposes: (Link to first post)

Miss Cammie Dawn Masterpost

Introduction:

Hi all! Welcome to my combination psychology, fandom, hypnokink, fandom and personal blog!

We're a middle-aged trans woman in our 40s. We're diagnosed with DID and type about it sometimes. We are American but have a British accent and we simply type too dang much.

People seem to like us, I guess? We're a system of 5 and have a huge draw to writing about dissociative disorder representation in fiction. If that's something that interests you then check out our Media Essays tag.

-

Our Tagging System:

Last updated: 4/17/2025

I am addicted to tags. If you ever want to find my original content or my fandom posts you will be able to easily here. Just click on the links below and all shall be neatly organized.

Also there are secret tags which are not advertised. Those ones are for me. A little personal treat.

General Tags:

Cammie Posting - tag for a soft and playful girl. Camden Posting - tag for a traumaqueer. Dawn Posting - tag for a flirty and extravagant Fae. Craig Posting - tag for the boy that lives in the heart of a girl. Utility Tag - Wynn's tag for a survival part who is learning to live. Cammie Core - tag of posts that exude Cammie energy Camden Core - tag of posts that exude Cammie energy Dawn Core - tag of posts that exude Cammie energy Craig Core - tag of posts that exude Cammie energy Wynn Core - tag of posts that exude Cammie energy

Original Content:

Artwork Commissions - Any time I pay a lovely creator to do some art for me <3 Cammie Photos - Photos which feature this beautiful ginger in all her glory. Cammie Stories - My hypnosis related short stories. Fictional ones this time, though sometimes inspired by reality. Hypnokink Original Content - My little submissions of audio, visual or written hypnosis stuff. Hypnokink Writings - My personal opinions, info and resources on Hypnokink. Madison and Belladonna - Our series of hypnokink stories slightly based on reality going over a pair falling in love while one navigates their dissociative disorder Media Essays - A tag for my own big lengthy posts breaking down media (sometimes includes reblogs of other people's commentary) Media, Myself and I - Dawn's essays on DID representation in media. Photos We Took - We don't often share our proper photography work on Tumblr but sometimes we do and tag them here. Camden and Craig tend to share credit for photos. ReadOnlyMind - External link to my full length stories shared on ReadOnlyMind Scene Stories - Posts where we describe a scene that we did IRL. If I use this tag it is a recounting of real events. Story Time - Wynn's tag for telling stories about our life and experiences. We typically voice act them. Suggestion Suggestions - Ideas for hypnotic scenes. Video Posts - Posts where we are on video. Voiced Posts - Posts where we record stuff and say it with our mouth words.

Personal Topics:

Asexuality - We are a kinky ace. We don't do sex or orgasms but sometimes do horny. BPD Specific - BPD is difficult to live with and impacts our relationships with others. DID specific - DID is difficult to live with and impacts our relationships with ourselves. We try to educate on the topic. Mental Health/DID/BPD Topics - Watch Me Post My Trauma In Public. Mental Health Memes - We have to meme or we'll cry. Personal Posts - Ones which are just me venting or talking specifically about my life and experiences. Plural Posting - Plurality memes. Trans specific - This Is My Gender and I am Proud of It.

Meme Tags:

Bites You Bites You Bites You - Cammie has a tag entirely for biting people <3 Camus Posting - One must imagine Sisyphus memeing Fae Posting - Our loyalty lies with the Seelie Court and we must meme about it Puns - Craig likes puns and we put up with it. Shitposting - tag for when we're being silly. We Have To Meme or We'll Cry- Mental health/plurality jokes

Hypnokink Tags:

50 Days of Fetish Masterpost - Easy links to all 50 posts about why I love hypnokink with examples, audios, photos and videos. 50 Days of Fetish - Tag list of 50 different scenes and suggestions in hypnosis that gets me going and reblogs of other folx who participated in the challenge. Community Resources - Educational resources in hypnokink. Community Safety - Topics discussing dangerous topics and predators Con Recaps - Convention recaps for Charmed! and Beguiled Hypnokink conventions General hypnosis tag - General tag for all hypnosis topics. Hypnokink -General tag for all hypnokink posts. Hypnokink Art - Artwork featuring hypnosis. Hypnokink OC - Our hypnokink content Hypnokink Writings - Our posts and essays on hypnokink Hypnosis on Display - Audios, videos, demos and photos of hypnosis. Hypnosis Events - Convention information Hypnosis Fiction - Stories featuring hypnokink.

Thirst Tags:

Hypnokink Art - Did I mention we have a hypnokink? Redheads - We like redheads. We are redheads. Sapphic Art - Speaks for itself <3 Stage Magicians - Stage magic is hot. Do not @ me. Sword Lady Thirst - I just want my chin lifted by a sword so I have to meet their gaze... Vampire Thirst - Cammie Likes Vampires

Friends and Loved Ones:

Daja - Beloved. Double Grinch - Absolute sweetheart. Fellow Secret Mod. EllaEnchanting - Inspiration for asexual hypnokink, cool person and opinion haver. Lady Ru'etha - Goddess, Beloved. Linny Bee - Sweetheart. Hypnokink craft lady. Nath - Incredible writer. Good opinion haver. Metamour. Paperboy64 - Absolute sweetheart. Puppet - Counterpart. Metamour. Fellow Sleepyhead enjoyer. Skaetlett - Inspiration for plurality based hypnofiction. Superb person. Secret Subject - Boss. VTuber extraordinaire and good friend. Sleepyhead - Beloved. TennFan - An inspiration in asexual hypnokink content

Ask Tags:

Cammie Asks - Asks answered while Cammie is fronting. Camden Asks - Asks answered while Camden is fronting. Dawn Asks - Asks answered while Dawn is fronting. Craig Asks - Asks answered while Craig is fronting. Wynn Asks - Asks answered while Wynn is fronting. Ask Memes - Ask based games. We try to link the source but sometimes forget. Hypno Themed Asks - Asks about hypnosis.

[c4hr4yz3e]

Puppy Love - George Clarke Drabble

George Clarke x Reader

_____________________________________________

The second you step through the threshold of your cosy apartment something in the air feels tense. Not a harsh or dark tense, more like the kind of tense you get waiting for someone to blow out their birthday cake candles.

Stepping quietly through the hallway, you shed your coat and bag. The quick scurry of claws against the floorboards softly sounds through the flat before stopping abruptly. Growing curiouser, you hung your coat on its hook and placed your bag in its cubby, moving to peak out into the living room.

Nothing.

Huh.

Brushing loose hair from your eyes, you wander further into the room, walking to the fridge to grab a well-deserved drink. Choosing a seltzer can, you cracked it open and brought it to your lips, closing your eyes as the first sip hit your tongue.

As you relaxed a little, you immediately caught sight of a familiar mop of curly brown hair just sticking out from beside the armchair of the couch. Leaning over the kitchen counter, George came into view. He was kneeling on the floor, huddled close to the couch with his hands bracing against the fabric to keep himself steady. A giddy, excited smile ghosted his face.

“Um, what are you doing?”

George’s eyes dart over to you, smiling widely to greet you before holding finger to his lips.

You stood confused until the returning scurry of paws against the floor stole your attention. Your dog ran into the room, head looking in every direction as she practically spun in circles. She looked around the room before collapsing in defeat.

Looking to George, you watched as he let out a quick whistle. Your dog’s ears immediately perked up and she jumped to her feet. She ran further into the living room, searching under the coffee table and sniffing the air. Bowing her head to sniff under the couch, she quickly straightened and rounded the furniture in a sprint. When she finally spotted George, her tail wagged wildly, seemingly propelling her through the air as she jumped into his waiting arms.

“Good girl! You found me, you clever girl!” George showered the dog with pats and praise, laughing as she attempted to lick all over his face.

Oh, my gosh.

"You guys were playing hide and seek?" You couldn't help the bubble forming in your chest upon seeing how much your dog loved George.

"And she's getting so good at it, aren't you, girl?" His baby voice was strong as he spoke to the dog, ruffling her ears playfully.

He looked up at you from the floor, the most infectious grin making his eyes crinkle. Seeing him smiling so happily as your dog bounded around him excitedly was just what you needed after your gruelling day.

With a final ruffle of her fur, George stood up, resting his hands on his hips. "I think we're ready for another round, huh girl?"

Your dog sat at his feet, adorably panting up at him.

"Okay, stay," he spoke with an intent that showed you he'd been at this a while. Training your dog to play hide and seek. How cute.

Without taking his eyes off the dog he backstepped to stand beside you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

"Stay."

He led you with him as he walked backwards, smile unwavering.

"Good girl." After making sure she was concealed by the couch, unable to see you both, George turned and pulled you down the hallway with him.

He yanked your arm to hide beside him as he crouched on the floor against the far side of the bed, out of sight from the doorway.

Sneaking a kiss to your cheek, your boyfriend smiled lovingly at you, "Welcome home, my love, I forgot to say. How was your day?"

"You're going to ask mid hide-and-seek?" you couldn't contain the giggles that escaped at the prospect - you were really playing hide and seek with your dog.

"Well, better late than never." His grin was infectious. "Come!"

It didn't register until you heard the scurry of paws that you realised he was calling your dog.

You laughed quietly to yourselves, listening intently as the claws against the floorboards and panting floated through the flat.

Nestled against each other in your hiding positions, you allowed your head to fall against your boyfriend's shoulder, sighing contently as his familiar scent enveloped you and his hoodie cushioned your face. A soft smile etched George's face as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, thumb swiping gently across your hand that he had yet to let go of.

You hadn't expected to play hide and seek with your boyfriend and dog when you came home from work, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

[oneoftheextras]

Inevitable | j.t

masterlist | help me fund my surgery

paring: ex!jayce talis x gn!reader

summary: you see jayce again for the first time after he cheated, he seems genuinely sorry.

words: 2.9k

warnings: 18+, heavy angst, cheating, this is just pain ngl, alcohol, no pronouns, no y/n

use code READER10 to get 10% off of handwritten character letters

Maybe if you kept your gaze on the ground then it would be okay. No. That would make you look weak and pathetic, and the last thing you wanted him to see you as was weak and pathetic.

It was Progress Day and your attendance at the assembly was a government issued requirement. That was the only reason you were sat in the uncomfortable metal chair, facing a barren stage with a podium as the singular dressing.

The only thing you'd have to do is sit and listen to Heimerdinger's speech, that would inevitably blow smoke up Jayce's ass, inflate his ever-growing ego and conveniently neglect the hard work Viktor contributed to Hextech, and then you could go back to your life.

The obnoxious fanfare died down and Councillor Kiramman's voice began to sound over the speakers, her gentle British accent easing the crowd into the ceremony's celebrations.

These things usually only lasted five or ten minutes, you could last that long before crawling back into the normality of your own home.

"Please, join me in welcoming to the stage-" her voice sounded and the crowd began to buzz again with excitement. You rolled your eyes cynically, all this over something that happened every year and rarely did they have anything to show for it, “-Jayce Talis!” she proclaimed triumphantly.

Your blood ran cold and your heart sank, the frosty thick liquid running through your veins icing over the organ to increase its weight threefold.

“What?” you found yourself whispering aloud in disbelief, your words lost in the sea of cheers and orchestral accompaniment. It was Heimerdinger that gave the yearly speech, you must have heard her wrong.

But then he emerged from the steps leading to left, his pace slow to begin with, then a hurried jog up to the stage level and a humble smile put him in full view of the whole of Piltover.

A glacial shiver went down your spine. Even though you were a few rows back from the front, you could see the shining lights reflecting pride and accomplishment in his irises. The amber colour as resplendent as his undeserved title of ‘Golden Boy’.

He held out his fist and waved to the crowd passionately as he made his way towards the podium, clipboard in hand. He seemed genuinely happy and it made you want to be sick.

The feeling of nausea bubbled in your stomach and up to your throat, leaving your mouth feeling dry and brittle. Then the nausea was escorted by anger; he wasn’t allowed to be happy, not after what he’d done.

It was bad enough that you’d had to walk through the streets of Piltover with the cartoonish image of his face on every banner and blimp, but to actually see him was unbearable. The people of this city praised him like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and the only thing you could do was watch him drink it all in as if he hadn’t ruined any semblance of contentment you’d been able to find within yourself.

It was doomed from the beginning really. Him; a Piltovian from a respectable family, and you; a Zaunite, who’d earned their way Top-Side through hard work and perseverance. He’d told you that it didn’t matter that you were from the Undercity, that he loved you regardless of your birthright, that you were perfect in every way in his eyes.  

And you were stupid enough to believe him.

You’d allowed yourself to settle into the mundane routine of being Jayce’s partner. Watching him work in the lab or in the forge, little coffee dates to cafes you’d never be able to afford but was cheap to the bank of Talis, reading together in silence - you’d even become friends with Viktor.

Loving him came easily to you, like it was a second nature, but receiving it from him was difficult. Not because he didn’t show it, but because you had a hard time believing that someone like Jayce wanted someone like you. 

Your gut told you that it was too good to be true, that your perfect little pocket of happiness was built out of paper mache and the smallest drizzle of rain would erode the foundations and melt everything you’d constructed together into nothing but a formless mulch.

It didn’t just drizzle, it was a torrential downpour.

“Uh, good evening!” his voice echoed throughout the hall over the speaker system, and you had to pull on every single thread of willpower you had not to verbally reply with ‘It’s not a good fucking evening, Ja-’. The main motivator being that in doing so would mean saying his name, something you hadn’t been able to do for a while.

He cracked jokes that people laughed at and spoke with the charisma of someone born to rally people together. The gentleness of his voice that you used to love so much now felt like nails on a chalkboard; your mind urged you to stand and walk out of the hall as a way to protect your heart from any further cracks in the already fragile surface, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate.

“No one in my life expected very much of me,” he spoke solemnly. Pausing for a moment and finally giving you the courage to glance at his face instead of the golden embellishments of the blue podium he stood behind, but he was looking back at you. 

Mentally, you’d automatically replied to his statement: ‘I did’. His eyebrows were slightly lifted, creasing the skin between them, and his lips remained parted as if he’d picked up on your thoughts and seemingly forgotten his next line.

He blinked a few times and broke eye contact with you to read his notes, and the performance was back on. The peek into that sincerity you’d fallen in love with quickly being sealed by the facade of a perfect man Piltover needed him to be. He stepped in front of the podium and declared promises of a brighter and secure future, letting the audience whistle and applaud him as he exited the same way he’d entered. If only they knew how hollow his promises really were.

You knew something was wrong but chose to ignore the signs that he was growing disinterested. Questions of; “Are we okay?”, quickly turned into, “Do you still want me?”, to which he would always respond with “Yes.”

Lying came to him as easily as a wasp to honey, that was his second nature. 

There was something bittersweet about the ignorance of not knowing the betrayal of being replaced. To be so completely unaware that your silhouette was being reshaped to fit the mould of another whilst you still housed it, but to feel every bend of your outline all the same.

You held onto him for as long as you were able. Your grip indenting itself into the part of his soul that you thought belonged to you, only to find that the divots and ridges no longer fit your fingerprints.

In hindsight, the mind games you played with yourself were laughable - you were so desperate to prove your instincts wrong, but Jayce in all his confidence became sloppy and you couldn’t pretend not to see the truth any more. 

Not when she was sleeping next to him, her head resting on the pillows enclosed in the cases you’d picked out for him and her hands gripping the blanket you’d left at his apartment the first time you’d stayed the night. The worst thing was his arm draped over her waist, holding onto her like she was the most precious thing in the world, the same way he used to hold you.

“J-Jayce?” your meak voice carried across his bedroom, but he didn’t stir. They both seemed so content together, unaware of the rapid pounding against your ribs and the two tonne stone that had caved in your chest and dragged all your internal organs into your stomach.

A peacefulness that you would never know again.

You flicked the lights on and their eyes immediately squinted at the brightness of it, and you had a front row seat to watching Jayce’s sleepy brain slowly realise exactly what was happening.

First came the stuttering, then the ‘It’s not what it looks like’, then the begging - after his guest had caught on and hurriedly left.

It should’ve pleased you to see him on his knees completely naked and holding onto your pant leg, pleading with you not to leave with tears welling in his waterline, but you were numb. 

The only thing you could feel was cold. Every part of you was freezing as if any ounce of warmth you would ever feel again left with the woman who was more desirable to him than your relationship. 

The Progress Day celebration was in full swing, fireworks, music and dancing was all around you. The logical side of your brain urged you to leave and go back home, but the two free drink vouchers they’d given you at the door were seemingly more necessary now than when you’d received them.

The two glasses were set down in front of you at the same time, the first one already half empty when you heard the cautious, “Hey,” from behind you.

Even if you hadn’t just heard him speak through an amplified system, your body tensing and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to burst into tears would’ve been the sign you needed to tell you who this was.

You inhaled deeply and grit your teeth before you turned on the bar stool towards him, repeating the phrase ‘The best payback is to move on’ in your head.

He looked almost the same as when you’d met him, if not more muscular and a little bit taller - his genetics had been kind to him and you felt the burn of hatred start its ignition.

You didn’t greet him back, instead you sipped your drink and stared at him emotionlessly.

“How are you? You look well!” he scratched the back of his neck and his vision flicked away from your unwavering gaze for a second as if the intensity of it was too much. Ironic considering he’d just had thousands of eyes on him not too long ago with no issue.

A humourless laugh threatened to leave your throat, but instead you managed to form it into a dry, “Do I?” as you drew your attention to your glass in an attempt to seem uninterested in his presence.

“I mean, you always looked well-” he started with the flattery but your rapidly increasing heart rate was beginning to make your hands tremble, “-What do you want, Ja-” you interrupted his compliment, only to cut yourself short, still unable to say his name.

His left eyebrow twitched, the slit amongst the brown hairs jumping with the movement, he undoubtedly picked up on how his name died on your tongue and you noted how a glimmer of hope in his eyes decayed with it.

“I thought I could buy you a drink, but it seems you’ve already got some,” he chuckled through his explanation, an undertone of nervousness attempting to be hidden by faux confidence.

He must really be spending too much time around people who do nothing but agree with him. Whatever tricks he’d learned to shmooze the brass of Piltover Council wasn’t going to work on you, when he’d shattered your heart he’d also obliterated any illusions he could try and dangle in front of you.

“Why?” you asked him bluntly, your voice was still cold and unfeeling, bringing you a drop of pride. He was taken back by your question, that much was evident from the dumbfounded look on his face. For once, he couldn’t bullshit an answer and get away with it.

He thought for a moment under your scrutinising gaze, “I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted, “Why? I don’t want to talk to you,” you fired back the second he’d finished his own statement. 

You could feel your emotions starting to push their way through the hardened exterior you’d somehow managed to fasten to yourself. He shuffled forwards and sat on the barstool next to you, one elbow on the counter and his body facing you, so you twisted back towards the bar.

“Why?” He repeated your question back to you with a scoff as if the answer was obvious, “Because I still care about you,” he said it so casually that he must have been unaware of how every muscle in your chest contracted with pain, “No, we’re not doing this,” a sour smile graced your lips and you laughed with discomfort to push back the temptation to weep.

“Doing what?” The innocence and genuine curiosity in his voice almost had you believing that he had forgotten how he’d crushed your trust into fragments so small that you were still searching for the missing pieces before you could start to glue it back together again.

“This,” you gestured between the two of you and swivelled to hop off of the stool, “Pretending that everything is fine between us,” you elaborated, anticipating another stupid question from him that would delay your departure from this torment.

He stood as you did, unintentionally blocking you from getting off your chair, “Of course I’m not pretending everything is fine,” he put his hands up as if he was offering a surrender, “I know it isn’t fine, I was a dick, but I want to try and make amends.”

You laughed again, this time it was a real laugh. “A dick? That’s putting betraying me lightly,” you mumbled to yourself but his grimace told you that he heard you. 

“There is nothing you could do in this life or the next that would make amends for the damage you did,” you spoke to him directly this time, leaning into him and lowering your voice so he really had to concentrate on your words.

You hopped off of the stool and he stepped back, calling your name but giving you the space you needed to leave if you so wished, but a part of you didn’t. 

The two of you were so close to each other, you could feel the warmth of his chest against your arm and for a brief second you enjoyed the familiarity of his body heat. Clearly, a small segment of your brain hadn’t fully processed that he wasn’t yours anymore. As if all of this was some very realistic nightmare, and you would wake up in his arms in a world where he hadn’t needed to find fulfilment in someone else.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” The words left your lips before you could register that you were asking him the question that had been on repeat inside your mind since that night. 

His lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed the same way they had when he was on stage, but this time you could see what was in his eyes - guilt, regret, and sadness.

“You were enough,” he whispered back to you, “Don’t lie to me,” your eyes focused on that stupid red tie you used to enjoy playing with so much and you felt every muscle in your face tense as you fought back that urge to cry again.

He called your name and reached to touch your arm but you batted it away, “If I was enough then you wouldn’t have needed someone else,” you spoke firmly, leaving him no room to argue with you, but of course, he would still try.

“I was selfish and greedy,” he admitted as if this was the first time he’d been able to confess it to himself, let alone you, “I promise, you were always enough for me, you were- are perfect,” his voice was soft and you wanted to believe him, but his actions were a strict contradiction to his words.

You hadn’t felt the tear leak from your waterline, you’d only realised it had escaped when you felt his finger brush it away and you flinched. He held his hand up again and slowly rested it on the counter, “Sorry, habit,” he mumbled sadly.

“Don’t,” you shook your head and refused to look at his face, “Don’t act like you care now,” your throat wobbled and you held onto every fiber of your being to allow you to speak clearly enough to maintain some of your dignity. 

“I do care,” frustration lined his protest, “Believe it or not, but I did love you,” his words felt like a dagger being stabbed into your unprepared flesh and twisted until the area went numb from the pain, “You don’t replace the people you love, I never could’ve done that to you,” you needed to leave, any longer and you would make a complete fool of yourself in front of the most influential people in Piltover.

He huffed, hearing him intake a shaky breath, you finally raised your vision to meet his face - his eyes were glossy and his jaw was tense, “I still love you,” his declaration wobbled with emotion on his tongue. 

“No,” you shook your head, “I won't let you lure me into thinking that I meant something to you.” With a trembling hand you wiped away your own tears like you had so many nights before this one. 

“Okay,” Jayce said defeatedly, the strong confident man that you’d seen on stage had disappeared completely, “Whatever you want,” he was the one to break eye contact with you this time.

“I want the person I was before I met you back,” you managed to kickstart your legs into walking away from him. For the second time, it felt like your soul was being ripped apart, leaving half of it and the one person you’d adored most in the world in your shadow.

[the-peak-legend-of-first-gen]

IDEAL TYPE

Characters: Gun Park, Goo Kim, James Lee

What I belive is, rather than brawn Gun will likely be more compatible with someone more on the brainy side.

Has affinity for more feminine yet strong type like Bulma from DBZ.

Strong doesn't necessarily have to be translated into physical strength: yes he will appreciate it but you two will mostly test it out for dominace and let's just say it won't take a very healthy turn in relationship.

Part of it is due to his Yakuza upbringing and the patriarchal environment he grew up in. In the initial phase he will only seek you out for pleasure but if you are of help in the grander scheme of things and show potential for what you are capable of. Absolutely sexy

Lets be honest he will be into looks. But not very high maintenance supermodel type just keep the basics intact and a well groomed and well kept person who knows their worth.

Confidence is actually the key to his heart. No he won't coddle you and give you lot of reassurance. He will be blunt and brutally honest. Understand it's from a good place and that's how he shows his care. So if you take his advice and improve on certain areas he will be really content.

And no don't listen to him always. Show him his loopholes, where he lacks what he can do to improvise.

Overall he likes a baddie who knows her worth and value and won't bend for anyone💕

This goofball like cute girls. Period🤪

Well well his first love is money, and he isn't afraid to admit that at all.

I feel he will be more into petite women. You know to show that he will protect you from this dangerous world blah blah..

Someone laid back and relaxed who knows when to be mature and when to turn into full on clowns. So that he can have best of both the worlds

Infinite patience. Not just because of his antics but because its very very very difficult for him to emotionally open up. Is quite guarding then he lets on and needs someone to break those walls.

Well once he is in love, pretty much everything you do is cute or adorable so looks aren't that much for him. And mostly likely to go for someone normal.

I don't mean to demean it's just that you don't need to have certain potential or bring something to table for him to love you ,I believe. If there is genuine connection, Goo is more than happy🥹😁💞

I'll do Teen James and Adult James differently😤

Okay teasing, push and pull , how far you can go without reacting to his charms

Someone firm in personality . Show him, his place. Mr James Lee you might be a national level all rounder but you ain't getting this heart so easily.

Let's be honest this all comes from his thrill and the rush he feels in winning and dominating. He wants to conquer and show. So ladies in case of Teen James "Play Hard to Get" will seriously do wonders for you🤣

Also someone who has their own passions and ambitions going on. The rare moments you two get to have with each other will seriously make him very happy

Dominate him. As in discussion and disagreement are always welcome and it's a huge plus point who can be on the same wavelength as him. But don't do it for the heck of it.

I don't know why but having soft , gentle hands will be his thing. This dude is into looks and want someone beautiful but not high in priority.

If you can make him forget all his worries and the two of you can, even for a moment live like normal teenagers for a bit you are golden.

And pls don't break his heart for just showing and parading him around like a trophy. He will know from the start. So someone who really looks for him for who he is and beyond the genius. Friends to lovers💙💜

Well let's be honest James in his adulthood is a manipulative ass. So someone smart and really intellectual who can see through all this facade.

See besides all the fluff and shimmery, let's face facts this guy uses people like tools and how they can benefit him, I'm pretty sure Kitae is also just another tool in his arsenal. You need to be equally talented as him and someone who can match his level. Not an extraordinary overachiever but have your things going on.

But as Tsumiki was described in JJK " As long as she has an unshakable moral compass which doesn't deflect easily there is nothing more I can ask for". This is what fits his ideal type best.

See if he is dating you he really trust you a lot and you mean a lot but again he will hide things from you. Not for lying and deceit but you don't have to worry your pretty little head about Gang and stuff. This might put a dent but if you understand he is doing it in good faith it might work for you. Otherwise arguments 😭😞

I feel like since he is more on the calm and composed side. Someone goofy will really help. Not a full blown clown but you know a bit of comedy here a few pranks there.

He is still a tease and he loves to see your reactions. So if you are really shy he will have a lot of fun pushing your limits

Well he likes refined, elegant women. Kpop has shown him all the shades so at this stage in his life not really into looks.

A genuinely nice and kind human being who won't bend to his ways all the time and he can really trust is what gets his heart.

[jams-sims]

So I finally got to the 'pdf emperor'/father of our main male love interest (Jinish) and the current emperor. That dude was mega fucking weird!!

Putting on my analytical glasses real quick though. Is it just me or did it also feel like it was implied that the late Emperor was getting molested by his own mother? I feel like on top of the cycle of abuse being displayed, through Lady Anshi. Essentially raping the late emperor. We also have the more vague depiction of abuse from the emperor's mother. The reason why I bring it up is because, he does the same hand motion the empress did to him, on the little girl he talks to. Its a weirdly too inmate hand brushing over the shoulder.

It feels like the cycle essentially went, he got molested by his mother. So he started going after little girls because he was scared of older women, because of his mother. I think Lady Anshi along with a handful of other girls get swept up in it. Anshi is lucky that her son is picked as a heir, she gets to stay. Through that, the late Emperor is still bringing in little girls. This makes Anshi angry (whether she realizes the real reason behind her anger or not- she is a victim.) She assulates the late Emperor and ends up with Jinshi. The late Emperor dies. The cycle is broken by both of her children which should be a blessing.

Jinish is in love with MaoMao, who is only a year younger than him. The current Emperor only likes grown ass women. (He shoved that little girl to the back of the Palace so fast.)

This eposide was so insane, because I haven't had a show in a while make you have to sit with the uncomfortableness of a situation, in a while. Like there is nothing you can really do or say about the situation. Everyone's a grown adult now, the dude is dead. Everyone is perfectly okay with forgetting this dude. Even the building about to be knocked down. You just have to deal with the uncomfortable truth about how much of a gross person the late emperor was. You cant talk Anshi into realizing 'you were 10 the fuck are you talking about ambitious?? In reailty you talked out of line and any other adult during that time would have smacked you. Your a victim!!'

[iheartradio8]

My Favorite Hunger Games Fashion

In honor of Sunrise On The Reaping, i’m gonna talk about some of my favorite hunger games dresses. Fashion is such an effective tool in the hunger games in a variety of ways so, i’m gonna yap about it.

Effie’s monarch Alexander McQueen dress is an absolute classic. Firstly, butterflies represent transformation and re-birth. Nothing better represents Effie’s mental state at the moment. For the first time in her life she questions the Capitol, disagrees with them. And that feeling transforms her entire world view.

Additionally, monarch butterflies can represent death and passing on. This dress may be Effie’s way of mourning Katniss and Peeta because she may lose them forever.

A bit more of a sleeper pick, Katniss’ “coronation dress”. This dress is everything Snow wants Katniss to be. The dress is soft and frilly and light. Katniss says, “I give the illusion of wearing candle light”.

This is exactly what I mean. Candle light is fire in its most controlled and safe state. It’s contained and can’t spark anything bigger. Katniss also bares a striking resemblance to famous Disney princess, Belle. This could show that Katniss and Peeta’s story is just a pair of fairy tale lovers, nothing revolutionary. And Katniss is just a princess, the Capitol’s princess, not a hero.

But of course the dress is still defiant in small ways. Even though a candle is controlled, it’s still fire, still light in the darkness. And this princessy shade of yellow perfectly matches the mocking jay pin. She’s still a symbol of hope.

Dr.Gaul’s blood soaked gown is delightfully evil. There’s barely any analysis to be done here, her hands literally look bloody (as does the rest of her). I love the idea that she reveals in the brutality of the ensemble.

It really shows how she views human nature. A lab coat, a symbol of science and human intelligence, covered in blood, showing an animalistic brutality. Not to mention the pure white being corrupted by the ombré of red, as the hunger games smilingly corrupts pure people and turns them into monsters. The lab coat is so disturbingly beautiful .

The most gorgeous dress she ever wore. Look at the sleeves. The wings look like they’re on fire. The designs on the bodice are so beautiful and bird like. The beautiful sheer bottom. This dress is just stunning. A beautiful spin on the mocking jay imagery to wear specifically in the capital.

The suit is stabbing him. He literally cannot put his head down, there’s at a knife at his throat. Not to mention he is completely decked in snow’s white color, this is so sad.

The dress that got Cinna killed. I don’t know how this BIRD themed dress manages to not look costumey at all, but it’s doesn’t. The design of the dress reminds me of stain glass in away. Like Katniss is a savior coming down from the heavens. This dress reminds me that the rebels also used propaganda, that this dress WAS propaganda, meant to send a very clear message. On a more superficial note this color is beautiful on Jennifer Lawerence.

Okay these are (very few) of my favorite fashion moments in the hunger games. Im very late cs i had tgis sitting my drafts for WEEKS

[hvnsinureyes]

omg queennn its okay i was tryna put 🚪 🥃 like b*ckshots um anyways! whats wrong with me haha!

or just like from the back in general idk i #need him bad

warnings | nsfw— reader gets her back blown out, steph doesn’t know how to use a phone (i think i’m funny)

author's note | OHHH that makes sm sense, i was like "you want to door whiskey with steph?? is that new slang??" but its okay anon, we can be crazy together ❤️

steph walked into the kitchen, knowing he had no real reason but to bother you. he "casually" goes to grab a bottle of water. you didn't think anything of it– there was nothing off about him, no signs of frustration, sadness, or anger. he didn’t say anything at first, simply lingering around, eyes flicking over to where you sat with your nose buried in your book.

to anyone else, it might’ve seemed like nothing. but you knew better.

ever since he realized l another away game was soon to come, steph became clingier than usual, practically attached to your hip at all times this whole week. it’s his way of savoring as much time as he can with you, even though he'll be back in a couple of days. 

dramatic, but you love him. 

the fridge door clicks shut. "away game soon," he mutters, taking a sip from the bottle. you hum in response, more focused on the book you're reading. in your defense, it's getting to the good part. steph frowns– more of a pout actually, yet he denies it every time– at the lack of attention. "gonna be gone for a bit."

"yep. i saw on the calendar."

"you not gon' miss me?" he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, like the big baby he is.

"steph, i always miss you." you sighed, finally looking up at him.

"i miss you more." he whispered, and before you could roll your eyes, his mouth was on yours— soft and needy, tongue brushing against your bottom lip, like he was asking for permission. you open your lips against his, letting him in. as much as he annoys you, you can never get enough of steph.

"i know you will." you pull away, book already forgotten. "now, what do you want?”

but steph didn’t answer. instead, he leaned in, lowering his head until his lips found that sweet spot on your neck. a kiss. then another. slow, wet, deliberate, trailing down further. your breath caught as he dragged his mouth lower, grazing your collarbone, hand sliding over your thigh— he didn’t need to say anything else.

“i wanna spend time with you,”

“steph—” you moaned, your voice trembling slightly, heat blooming deep in your belly. “you mean fucking, don’t you?”

“same thing.” he pulled back enough to look you dead in the eyes, his smirk lazy, but dangerous. “we could make another tape,” he said, thumb now tracing slow circles on the inside of your thigh. “have something to remember you by.”

“don’t you have enough of those?”

“we’ve done every position but one…”

"fuckkk yes," steph groans, voice raspy. "throw that ass back, just like that baby," doggystyle— that’s what was missing. the flash from steph’s iphone shines on your back, camera focused between your ass and steph’s hips, cock rutting into your pussy. you don’t know what it is, the presence of the camera or making sure steph really has something interesting to watch while he’s gone, but you end up showing out each time.

“guess you’re not the only one who’s gon’ miss me,” he muses. you’re dripping all over, juices sticking between your thighs and coating his dick. it’s hard not to when he’s slamming into that spot, making your toes curl and leaving your body shaking. “this pussy will, won’t it?” you nod, but that’s not enough for him.

“words, baby, we can’t see your face.”

“yes, yes, it’ll miss you!”

“good,” he murmurs, entranced by the feel of your tight walls. “b’cause imma miss this most of all, this nice ass pussy,” with his fingers digging into your asscheek, he takes back control of the pace, fucking into you harder. your moans only encourage him to go faster, rougher— hammering into you like there’s no tomorrow. “it’s all mines,” he says, you don’t hesitate to respond.

“all yours, no one else’s,”

“you close, ain’t you?” it’s not a question, more of a statement if anything. steph can already tell by the way you’re squirming beneath him. you can already feel the bruises and discomfort you’ll get from sitting down, but that’s not important right now, you’ll make him make it up to you later. steph’s free hand goes under, quickly finding your clit and rubbing frantically. he’s desperate, wanting you to feel the same high he’ll to get soon enough.

it doesn’t take much though. you scream out from the friction, senses heightening as you gush over the couch and his fingers, whimpering as he continues even after your orgasm. “steph— t’much,” he’s moaning, deep in his throat, from how you’re squeezing him. you’re just as enthusiastic, fighting through your fatigue to grind into him, back arched and in perfect sync with his hips. he’s almost there, also needing that push. you already know.

“inside, baby, c’mon,” you say, looking back at him, “f—fill me up. i need it, i wanna feel you,” steph’s hips stutter against you before he completely stills, both hands grabbing your hips as he cums deep inside, hips completely pressed against you. you feel the spurts of cum fill you up until you’re stuffed full of steph. it’s silent except for your small pants, the both of you basking in the moment…until he says,

“…i don’t think it was recording.” what? steph grabs the phone from where it fell on the couch. there was no video, he didn’t even open the camera app. turns out his flashlight was on the whole time instead.

“are you kidding me?”

steph just grins, sheepishly, as if he didn’t just take you through an intense workout for a good 10 minutes. your body is sore and aching, goddamnit—

“one more time?”

“no.”

[slaymitchabernathy]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

| "...nothing's gonna hurt you, baby, as long as you're with me, you'll be just fine, nothing's gonna hurt you, baby, nothing's gonna take you from my side..." | written based on a request :)) |

Sometimes, Coriolanus wishes he could keep his wife away from the world and the cruelty it brings, like a rose in a greenhouse.

Right now, he wishes more than anything that he could just make the pain go away, make her stop crying. He hates it when Soarynn cries. Hates the sharp little gasps that leave her lips, hates how her entire frame trembles, hates how her lip quivers, and she stumbles over her words.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, doing his best to soothe over her gaping wound that is her heart. "I...I'm gonna quit," she gets out, more tears fall down her cheeks. Coriolanus sighs, gently rubbing his hand up and down her side. She's frustrated, and rightfully so.

The Capitol Art Museum opened up its doors for aspiring artists to show off some of their work, and Soarynn was more than happy to bring in some of her paintings. They're beautifully done, and he's not just saying that because he's her husband.

She spent days making sure everything was perfect, and then insisted that they come to the Museum early so she could set up her table. He had watched her fuss over where to put each painting, checking to see if the tablecloth was placed right in the middle of the table.

Not to mention this morning, when she spent a good thirty minutes trying to pick out an outfit.

All that work for no one to show up.

Well, people came, but they paid her little table tucked away in the corner no mind. He's already plotting to write the Museum Board a very nasty letter about the entire thing. How she got shoved into that dark, sad corner is beyond him.

Soarynn is a Snow.

She should be treated as such.

But right now, she needs to be treated like glass, like the delicate porcelain doll he knows she can be. His lips press against the part in her soft blonde hair, if only he could kiss the pain away that easily. "Don't quit, darling, I know things didn't turn out the way you wanted them to, but don't give them the satisfaction by quitting altogether."

Soarynn sniffles, which breaks his heart even more.

He hates it when she cries.

"You did so good, darling," he praises her, "they were fools to ignore you, and I want you to know that I'm going to do everything in my power to fix this, to make this right."

She doesn't know that people might die for this little misunderstanding, but that's okay. Soarynn is so blissfully unaware of the power she holds over him, how he'd kill for her, die for her.

"I wanna go home," she mumbles, ignoring his words of advice.

They haven't even left the museum yet, Soarynn was too embarrassed to walk out with all of her artwork, and once the tears came, he knew they'd be here for a while. So, he pulled them into an empty office off one of the hallways, figuring some privacy would be appreciated.

"You're sure? You don't want to go look around at your favorite exhibits?"

Soarynn normally loves to look at everything, dragging him around whilst telling him facts about every sculpture or painting. "I hate art," she says, shoving him in the chest. His brows scrunch together in confusion. Where has his sweet little angel gone?

"Hey now, I haven't done anything, darling," he gently reminds her, resting his hands on her shoulders, "you needn't take it out on me too." Soarynn looks down at her shoes, embarrassed, tired, upset, angry, and sad. All things he tries to keep her far away from.

Her next words are barely audible. "I'm sorry."

And then come the tears again, hot and quick to run down her cheeks. Her shoulders shake as she sobs, and Coriolanus is quick to pull her right back into his chest, holding her so tight, keeping her safe from the dangers of this world.

The world can be so cruel to sweet things like her, so mean and hateful. Soarynn grew up with an adoring father who gave her everything she could ever want, and Coriolanus has done his best to continue giving Soarynn the same level of care.

She's so good, so kind and sweet. She deserves the best and only the best.

Her breaths begin to grow more and more uneven, as if she's hyperventilating. Coriolanus takes her delicate face into his large hands, looking down into her glassy eyes that are filled with anguish and anxiety. "Soarynn, Soarynn, it's alright darling. It's alright, take a deep breath for me, okay?"

But she's far past reconciliation. Her breathing grows even more erratic, and Coriolanus grows more worried by the second. Her cheeks are flushed, her hands are shaking, more tears are streaming down her face.

Coriolanus is starting to freak out. Is she okay? Does he need to take her to the hospital?

Her entire frame trembles, and he quickly grabs her waist, lifting her up effortlessly so he can sit her down on the empty desk. It does little to settle her nerves, and she reaches out to him with shaking hands. "You're alright," he murmurs, lacing his fingers between hers, "you're alright. Just breathe in and out for me, sweet girl. In and out. Just like that. You're doing so well, darling."

Coriolanus remains in front of her, maintaining eye contact while Soarynn takes in a few shaky yet deep breaths to help her calm down. "Good," he says, blowing out the air in his body with her, "just like that."

He can tell that she's embarrassed over what happened in the gallery and what's happening now. But he didn't marry a woman without flaws, a woman who wouldn't crumple every once in a while under societal pressure. Soarynn always tries her best to be perfect, which often leads to her breaking down under the pressure she places on herself.

Coriolanus has never expected her to be perfect. If she were, then she wouldn't be the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

Soarynn's breathing starts to level out, so he moves on to helping her feel more grounded. "Very good, darling. Now, close your eyes, close your eyes and just listen to the world around you." He can hear birds chirping outside the windows and footsteps in the large Museum exhibit rooms.

He steps forward, closing the short distance between them, and rests a hand on the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. She isn't crying anymore, she's moved on to small sniffles and hiccups.

The worst is over.

"It's okay," he whispers, "it's okay. You're okay, Soarynn. Just a little anxious is all." Coriolanus does his best to look to the future with confidence. Soarynn doesn't share his point of view, often spiraling over things she can't control.

One time, he woke up to her crying in the middle of the night because she had a dream that he had died. Even though he assured her that he was perfectly fine, she still took a while to calm down and fall asleep.

Soarynn rests her head against his chest, eyes shut, breathing even once again.

Coriolanus rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, helping to ground her. "I...I want something to drink," she whispers against his coat. Soarynn had been ready to flee the museum and never return, urging him to put on his coat and gloves so they could leave.

This was before the tears started flowing.

Coriolanus nods even though her eyes are still shut. "We can get you something to drink. Do you want something warm or something cold?"

Soarynn raises her head, and her eyes finally open. They're red from all the crying she's done, but the tears are no more. "Warm, please."

He smiles, even when she's sad, she's so cute and polite.

"Warm it is, darling," he promises, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Do you want to go to the museum cafe for a dri-"

"No," she cuts him off with a more determined, steady tone, "I want to leave." The correct thing to do would be to stay here and face her fears. But Coriolanus has never enjoyed making her feel uncomfortable. He's tried to do it before, and it's never ended well for him in the past. It always ends in tears.

"Alright. We can leave," he easily agrees, "let's wipe those eyes first, hmm?" He fishes in his pocket for a handkerchief; he's carried one since he can remember. It used to be out of habit, but now it's just in case he needs to wipe some tears or blow a stuffy nose.

Soarynn allows him to gently wipe any traces of tears, sitting perfectly still with her hands in her lap. "I don't mean to be dramatic," she whispers. Coriolanus shakes his head at those words. He's met dramatic women, and Soarynn is not one of them.

She's sensitive. There's a difference.

"You could never be dramatic, my angel," he gently promises her.

Soarynn doesn't look entirely convinced, but she does look entirely out of tears for the time being. Perhaps it would be best to leave before more can be made. "Why don't we go to your favorite coffee shop and get you a hot chocolate?" Soarynn doesn't really care for coffee, but she loves hot chocolate.

"Okay," she mumbles, wiping her eyes, "that sounds nice."

He offers her a hand to hop off the desk, and she gladly takes it. Coriolanus always craves touch, he needs to have his hands on her at all times. Not even in a sexual manner per se, but because she grounds him. He loves holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her waist. In more public settings, he'll rest a hand on her lower back, a possessive display of affection.

Soarynn doesn't crave it as much as he does, not in public at least. She prefers to crawl all over him at home. If he's working, she'll come sit in his lap, wrapping her limbs around him like a contortionist. If they're in bed, she always has to be the little spoon, and if she's not, then she's lying right on top of him.

Right now, however, she needs his touch as much as he needs hers. Coriolanus leads them back into the hallway and begins his evil plans to destroy everyone who had anything to do with today's disaster.

He'll do anything to keep his sweet, darling girl happy.

꧁ ꧂

That night, after getting Soarynn some hot chocolate, a muffin, and then taking her shopping, Coriolanus watches her play with Petunia, her spoiled cat. Despite their distinct rivalry, Coriolanus is glad for the happiness that Petunia provides for Soarynn.

It's just so unfortunate that she provides nothing but annoyance for him.

The cat is a menace. She'll scratch him, pee in his shoes, eat his socks. She even swallowed one, which led to a very expensive overnight stay at the vet for her.

Besides that, he's sure she's a very pleasant cat.

Soarynn giggles while Petunia follows around a string tied to a stick, which apparently, counts as a cat toy at the pet shop. Petunia bats at it, jumping on her hind legs when Soarynn lifts it up. Coriolanus sips his bourbon, a necessary evil after another long day, and looks back at the letter he's started to draft to the Capitol Art Museum Board.

To whom it may concern, I am writing to the Capitol Art Museum Board to file an official complaint due to what occurred today, on March 25th, during the Aspiring Artists Event. My wife, Soarynn Snow, partook in the event and was severely mistreated and undervalued at your event today. No assistance was offered to her, nor was a more prominent table space compared to the other Artists. My wife was shoved into a dark corner, completely ignored by you and your staff. I am writing to inform you that I intend to press charges and seek legal action against the mistreatment my wife experienced today.

He can always tweak it.

"Oh Coryo, look at how smart she is."

Coriolanus looks back down at Petunia, who has finally managed to capture the string. She looks very proud of herself. "Yes, darling," he agrees for the sake of her happiness, "she's the smartest cat there is. Why don't you come sit with me for a bit, hmm?"

Soarynn can hardly deny her husband such a request. She might shy away in public, but at home, she's bolder, braver. She doesn't bother standing up, she just crawls over to his desk, which does dark things to his mind.

Coriolanus loves having Soarynn in his lap even more when he's buried inside of her. Not tonight, though. She's had a rough day, and sex can make her more emotional if she's not feeling confident in herself.

Coriolanus chuckles when her head comes between his spread legs, she's like a cat in a lot of ways, purring when he scratches her just right. "My pretty girl," he murmurs, threading his fingers through her soft hair. Soarynn closes her eyes, leaning into his touch, eager to feel his nails on her scalp.

"Coryo?"

"Yes?"

"Can we get another cat?"

Coriolanus stops scratching her scalp, stunned by such a bold and horrible question. Soarynn's eyes open, filled with hope and mischief.

"I don't think so, darling," he says, shaking his head at the mere thought of another Petunia. Soarynn finally crawls into his lap, wrapping her legs around his torso. "Please? Please, please, please? You know how anxious I get, and another cat would make me feel so much better!"

Coriolanus looks over her shoulder, where Petunia is watching him with her beady little eyes. "Well, it would not make me feel better," he tells her, "in fact, I think it would heighten my anxiety."

Soarynn pouts, and she's so cute when she does it. "How about a baby?" He offers, kissing the tip of her nose. She makes a confused face, clearly not expecting him to take this route. "A baby?" She repeats, resting her hands on his shoulders. Coriolanus nods, holding her by the waist, "Mhm. A baby, a little girl who would look just like you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

They've been married for three years now, and Coriolanus has been thinking about children more and more recently. How wonderful would it be to have a daughter to call his own?

"I guess," she mumbles, grabbing the collar of his shirt with one hand. "But what if it's a boy?" He shrugs, not really caring too much about the gender. As long as it's a healthy baby, that'll be all that matters to him.

"Then it'll be a boy," he answers, pecking her cheek, "we can have more than one. We can have three."

Three seems like the perfect number to him. Close in age, nearly identical in looks.

"What if the baby inherits my anxiety?" That's a question he wasn't prepared for.

It's very possible that their future children could share their mother's worrying thoughts and actions. Nearly everything these days is genetic. Coriolanus likes to believe that his genes will be more dominant, though, overpowering any genes that might cause a social hindrance for their child.

"If our baby has anxiety, then we'll both be well equipped on how to handle it, won't we?"

Coriolanus has had lots of practice bringing Soarynn back down to earth from a panic attack. He knows the steps to take, what to do, and what to say. He's an expert, in fact.

Soarynn slowly nods, warming up to the idea of starting a family with him after so long. Coriolanus has enjoyed every second alone with Soarynn, but neither of them married with the idea of staying childless for long. They have lots of rooms that can easily be transformed into nurseries.

"It would be nice," she admits, "and I could buy so many baby clothes."

Coriolanus laughs, of course, she's already thinking about the clothes. Some things never change. "Yes, darling, you can buy all the clothes you want."

He finally presses his lips to hers, a true love's kiss if he's ever had one. Soarynn believes in that type of stuff, in true love and finding your soulmate. He never believed in any of that until he met her.

She's changed him as a person, made him nicer, kinder, more patient, and gentle. The old Coriolanus would've scoffed at her panic attack today, written it off as hormones, and told her to get it together. Not anymore, though. He became better for her.

Soarynn returns the kiss eagerly, settling into his lap for the long haul. Their lips move in sync, familiar with each other after all these years. He brings one hand up to her face, gently holding it so he can take further control. She gives it to him so easily, always trusting him to take care of her. Soarynn sighs, it's been a long day for her.

After this, he'll draw her a nice warm bath. He'll brush her hair and braid it down her back. Then he'll help her get dressed and tuck her into bed with him.

Safe and loved, by his side. Where nothing can hurt her.

"Thank you for taking care of me today."

He smiles into the kiss, even in the most intimate moments, Soarynn is always polite.

"Of course," he murmurs against her lips, "I'll always take care of you."

He means it too, nothing's gonna hurt his baby.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust @snowsgames @wakdjenwowj |

[maxknightley]

What's your process for coming up with character concepts and powersets for eidolon? I've been putting together one myself after absolutely adoring poprock and especially Harvey and it seems like you'd have an interesting perspective on it

I usually start by choosing a well-established archetype, or an existing character who I like, to model the character on.

Once that archetype is established, I think about a suitable eidolon name and concept for them.

Having established the broad strokes of the eidolon and the wielder, I work to create a fresh spin on the concept. Over the course of the campaign, I differentiate them further over time.

Some examples, keeping in mind that my memory of the older ones isn't going to be 100% accurate.

Harvey D. Godlove (ROCK)

Okay, ROCK is going to be the campaign that leans more Jojo and less Persona. The Virtuoso playbook seems interesting... Hol Horse and Mista are both basically Virtuosos. I'll draw on that - make a ranged attacker who's kind of a dumbass.

Just making the Eidolon "a gun" would be kind of boring, though. I'd like to use an OK Go song for this... hey, I was on a pinball kick recently. What if I made him really into pinball - so that's the skill he mastered - and that means he can fire a pinball like a bullet, and control its movements to some extent like Sex Pistols? Call that shit "Here It Goes Again."

Okay, so he's really into pinball, maybe other arcade games too. Since he's a Virtuoso, he must also be really good at it. Maybe he's got a bit of an ego? Sees the whole "career criminal" thing as a side gig? If he's flashy, that lines up with a high ELE build.

Emilia del Valle (Against!)

You know who's sick as hell. Nico Robin from One Piece. But I wish they had leaned harder into the fact that she's, like, one of the oldest members of the crew and spent time as a hardened assassin. I like it when she's silly but the Context should be there. What if I played someone who's a bit older and worn down by life? A Veteran, but what would their sub-playbook be?

Looking through Against Me songs, there's a few good options. Maybe Cavalier Eternal, maybe Dead Rats... an Alchemist would be fun this time around. Something kind of edgy, to fit the vibe she's got going on. "My eidolon turns love into hate?" "Turns comfort into pain?" No, those are too abstract. I should think of something concrete, something piratey and One Piece-y... say, "Violence" would be a fun pick. Very straightforward. Maybe she can just summon a fuckton of cannons? And if she's an Alchemist, the most efficient material to use would be wood - she can turn a ship itself into a new weapon!

Okay, so she's a bit older than the others. Since she's a Veteran, maybe she was a big deal at one point, but got captured and nearly killed. It's cool when characters have monikers. Since her attacks are technically using plant matter, maybe I'll call her something like "The Wilted Rose" or "The Wilted Lily..."

Solo (SKA)

It's the Mystery Solving Teens season! Gotta have a Beast in there to be the Scooby (or the Goober if you're nasty). We're doing a "two generations" thing, too... maybe go for a Mystery Incorporated inspired vibe, where my character is a bridge between both shows, and has mysterious motives of their own...

If I'm making my character "the bridge" then I should look into some real early ska, something from the 70s or early 80s. That also means we'll get some more variety on the Playlist. Let's see, "The Untouchables" sound cool. What do they - oh my god. Oh my fucking god lol I know exactly what to do here.

"Soul Together" = "Clump Spirit" = Katamari. My guy is a little fucking scarab beetle but instead of a ball of dung he could roll a ball of Everything. Like it's a miniature black hole basically. And I'll double down on the "prince" thing - his motivations are tied up in the politics and faith of a whole little civilization of bug people. What if they lived in a terrarium in the science classroom lol

The only major exception I can think of is Flip, and that's only because I came up with a rough concept long before Luke and Molly had actually figured out the details of the setting or started on the new rulebooks. Even then it still followed the broad strokes of "pick some existing characters I like, draw inspiration from them, and then tweak/iterate until they have their own thing going on."