#constantly changing just like he personas

[uhhhitsme]

24, 29 and 32 Curt?

-24- best memory

i think he would tell himself its the berlin mission in 1956. i haven't nailed down any of the details for what went on DURING the mission exactly, but it would entail owen doing something crazy stupid for curt, and the two of them emerging victorious and covered in blood and more in love than ever. it solidified to him the idea that together, they're unstoppable, and eased some of curt's anxiety about whether or not the ocean of feelings curt has for owen is matched.

but really, it was something from earlier in their relationship---june of 1954. owen had gotten himself decently hurt on a mission---not serious enough that curt was afraid for him, but serious enough that it couldn't be ignored. curt insisted on patching owen up, and unlike every other time curt has had to take care of him, owen let him do it without a fight. and there was this moment where curt looked up from his work, halfway through a passionate speech about why it was essential that he keep a bottle of whiskey and a bag of chips in his medkit, and caught owen looking at him with eyes full of light. and for a moment, he was overwhelmed with the knowledge that owen had trusted him with this. trusted curt to take care of him. let curt see him at his most vulnerable.

after, when they went to bed. owen kissed him in the gentle, comforting way that he typically reserved for when curt was hurt, or when thought curt was too out of it to notice. curt read him to sleep, and then stayed up for hours---heart bursting with an emotion so indescribable, so impossible it made his head spin. the kind of feeling you get falling.

-29- quirks and personal habits

curt paces a LOT. not just when he's stressed---literally whenever he feels too much about anything, happy or frustrated or thinking about owen. when he can't pace, he bounces his leg or clasps his hands together so tight you can see the tension running through his arms.

during the winter, he gets dry lips, and he never can stop himself from picking them. he refuses to use lip balm (partially because of toxic masculinity and partially because he hates how it feels).

he has really poor volume control and often doesn't realise when he's being too loud (which made stealth training hell for him when he first started out.) he also gets really really loud when he's excited/afraid.

he sings to himself to get earworms out of his head. depending on the song, it either drives owen bananas or is ridiculously endearing

he listens to a lot of radio, even if he doesn't particularly enjoy it.

he hates quiet, and avoids his apartment like the plague

he hasnt changed the hair product he uses since he was recommended it by a girlfriend in high school

-32- toxic traits

massive inferiority complex that results in him doing very inadvisable things for the sake of trying to prove his own worth

very easily jealous---falls under the whole inferiority complex thing a little, but he can get really bitter when he sees others praised, especially in areas he takes pride in (like spying)

he's constantly trying to present this sort of hypermasculine effortless suave persona, and as a result, can be a dismissive asshole when he thinks he's letting too much of his emotion show

on that note, he doesn't handle vulnerability well. like At All. which, tbf, neither does owen

oftentimes abrasive and just a little bit self-centered, sometimes gets way too caught up in his own shit to pay attention to others needs (although he tries really, really hard with owen)

i feel like theres a word for this, but that thing where you do things without fully conceptualizing the potential consequences of an action until they're staring you in the face. its gotten him into way too much trouble

has a very black and white worldview and........doesn't fully see a lot of his enemies as human, or feel empathy for them. he's very stubborn about what's right and wrong

HE'S LITERALLY A SPY FOR THE US GOVERNMENT WHAT ELSE DO I NEED TO SAY

mind you these are the biggest things off the top of my head. there's probably more. love this terrible freak <3

[bluegekk0]

based on the recent meme- grimm and crying? does he believe that crying is a show of weakness- even if only for himself? how might the sexy vampire god deal with emotions

He's definitely the type to claim that crying is good for you and encourage it, and then see it as a weakness in himself. I like to think he could make himself able to cry if he wanted to, but he chooses not to. This leads into your second question - for most of his life, he masked his emotions from the world. He specifically crafted a persona for himself that would be difficult to read and intimidating at a glance but also alluring. Though even if he let anyone get close, he was very selective in what emotions they'd see - usually pleasure and anything similar to that. But nothing aside from that, once he was done there, he'd return to being hard to read, almost emotionless.

In reality, his head was a battleground for so many emotions you'd be shocked that he hasn't broken down at that point. His regrets and anger, the feeling of loneliness, yearning, and just a general sadness. It was all in there, hidden under layers he created to mask them from the outside world. It's no wonder he never made himself able to cry - it'd be impossible to hide all his sadness and pain as he'd be tearing up damn near constantly. On top of that, being left in such a vulnerable state after his banishment made him very careful about showing any kind of weakness, in large part it was a defensive mechanism, one that unfortunately became very damaging for his mental health. And in his eyes, crying was the most obvious sign of weakness, so he designed his body in a way that prevented it.

However, things have changed, yes, he still hides his feelings from strangers, so many years of doing that won't just go away, and admittedly it is an useful skill. But now he has Vyrm, someone he can be fully honest with, and after being separated for so long, he was done hiding his feelings towards him. And following that, he became a lot more open about his other emotions, which he brings up during their heart-to-hearts. It's the only time he allows himself to be truly vulnerable, and as he quickly found out, it really helps to talk so openly about his feelings with someone. Yes, he would mention them occasionally to Divine (they are close friends, and unlike Brumm, her dynamic with Grimm is a lot more personal), but never to this extent; he'd always hide some details, especially those most painful to him.

He was a little apprehensive about it first, with all of Vyrm's struggles, Grimm was afraid of burdening him with his own problems (very ironic as that's a very Vyrm thing to do). But in the end it ended up being very healthy for them as individuals, and their relationship, so he doesn't regret it, even if at times it was very difficult. Despite all of that, however, his body is still unable to cry. Perhaps that's a mental barrier that he simply won't be able to cross anytime soon. The only sign that he would be about to cry if he could, is his voice trembling. But because he isn't very talkative around strangers (especially if he feels emotionally vulnerable), it's something only Vyrm and those closest to him would ever pick up on.

[year2000electronics]

OH BOY OH BOY WHAT A TREAT TO READ! i just had to doodle some stuff along for it

my immediate thought is how luigi's dress would change... in my mind he might be dressed the way bleck is, with very fancy clothes? or maybe bleck lets him pick out his own sense of style because at first he's on the whole "destroy all worlds" thing so he doesn't care what this child he's warding wears

i also think that mr. l would still exist in some capacity, but instead of luigi being brainwashed (obviously) mr. l is almost like... luigi's superhero alter ego or a wrestling persona? like, he puts on the mask and the neckerchief when he goes out and does Minion Work with the others. i think it could tie into bleck being protective of him yknow, taking on a disguise and also shortening his name so people wouldnt be able to trace him and then hunt him down

the early era being really rough and bumpy, i can see it SO clearly... bleck is not a man who is cruel to individuals, that is, he doesn't really care for picking on individual people. he'd rather just march on to the end of all things. so he would probably struggle with the fact that this big-hearted kid is constantly seeking affection when he still feels so broken... but he definitely grows attached to luigi as time grows on, the little guy just worms his way into his heart

i also had the idea that count bleck calls luigi 'man in green' as an affectionate nickname, which ends up stinging for luigi years down the line when he starts to learn the truth

this part absolutely DESTROYED ME, i was like "NOOOOO" out loud

and then of course, the grand finale... dimentio is a little terror, as usual <3

ANYWAYS YEAH TYSM FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME I LOVED READING THEM

I love seeing so many people share their appreciation of Team Bleck being a family and wholly adopting Luigi as one of their own. Now I’d like you all to consider:

What if… Count Bleck found Baby Luigi while he was separated from his twin, and then he and the other raised him as part of the family into adulthood?

NOW THATS INTERESTING... we don't know the timeline at all of when count bleck lost timpani and also recruited the other minions so you could really get flexible with this one i imagine

a grown-up luigi encountering the red-clad hero of prophecy and being so startled because it's the first time he's ever seen someone who looks like him...

[leveragedlibrarians]

Alright yall, thoughts:

If pokemon existed in the leverage universe what pokemon would the team have?

[sssusuki]

In the story, Who Made me a Princess, Ijekiel Alpheus has his potential as a great character diminished by the way he was not only handled by the author, but those around him and the story. He is someone who has complicated relations with his family, who have only ever seen him as another tool in the family to achieve greatness and therefore uses his intelligence to bury himself in books to drown out that loneliness. Even if his father loved him, and says it later on in the story, it is never actively shown— and if anything, it is assumed that his father abandoned him after his mother died. He had his future decided the moment he was born and he had no control over his own life and that is why he fell so fast for Athanasia. Despite all his high walls and barriers, because she was something unachievable and, like her name, impossible for his father and himself to imagine. If he was given the chance to develop as a character rather than being a secondary love interest, they could've shown his complexities and— if anything, his quite gray morality. As he has shown that he will harm himself and others to get to his own satisfactory conclusion (as specifically shown in his standoff against Athanasius) as well as his more rivalry and forbidden relationship with Athanasia. In this essay I will

[somniumfae]

thinking abt how all of gevie’s relationships w her friends involve them seeing through each other in some way

[cherryrikis]

OPERATION: LOCKDOWN

pairing -> gamer!riki x beauty influencer!fem reader

warnings -> swearing

genre -> smau, fluff, humor, angst, kinda love triangle

synopsis -> you hated gamers. riki hated ulzzang’s (except you). so after weeks of fighting to be the top streamer, (and riki’s poor attempts to charm you), he suggests to collaborate so you could both be number one. you tried to keep it professional. but the more time you spent producing content together, the more you realized just how much nishimura riki really meant to you.

status -> september 6 2024 - october 15 2024

taglist is closed.

profiles -> nintendo sponsors | diors angels

stream 001 ; who is nishiriki2005

stream 002 ; gamer stereotypes

stream 003 ; looks but no personality

stream 004 ; angel wings

stream 005 ; miss dr jart ambassador

stream 006 ; persistent guys

stream 007 ; persona

stream 008 ; mickey and minnie

stream 009 ; for me, or for you?

stream 010 ; rainbow road

stream 011 ; the after party

stream 012 ; second first date

[fin.] stream 013 ; locked down

authors note - titles are constantly subject to change

ps please dont spam like🫶

[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Warnings: changes tenses like, two times, cause Jason is obvi still in love with you, so it would be weird if some things were in the past tense and such. Just go along with it

Virgin!Jason Todd who never had sex before he died and when he comes back in a different body, looking like he fucked half of Gotham, is still just a scared little kid underneath it all.

And then came you.

You met Jason at a Wayne Gala, coming as a friend of Duke’s. You didn’t know about any superhero personas, and it showed. Happy and carefree, you weren’t what Jason assumed of the average citizen of Gotham. The parallels didn’t escape him: you, dancing with Duke and slightly buzzed, and him, the epitome of a wallflower. Clothed in a stunning red dress that just so happened to be the exact same colour Jason had practically trademarked, Jason’s eyes followed you over the rim of his glass. He was nursing a cup of non-alcoholic cider because he would never touch a drop of alcohol after his parents.

“Who is that?” Jason murmured to Cass when she came over to hide from the party. Cass was the only one he felt remotely comfortable with. She didn’t know him before Red Hood, like Bruce, so she didn’t compare him to an energetic little boy that was just a memory in the mirror. She didn’t joke around and pretend everything was okay and dandy, like Dick. She didn’t constantly ask whether he was okay, like Steph, or dote on him like he was a broken birdie. She wasn’t holding past resentment, like Tim, who still hadn’t totally forgotten Jason’s rage at his replacement. And she wasn’t a reminder of the al Guhl’s, like Damian. Cass and Alfred were his safe space, even though both had their flaws.

“Y/n L/n,” Cass supplied, not asking any questions. “Duke met her at school and they clicked. She’s been coming over to the Manor more frequently. She’s actually pretty fun. Even Damian introduced her to his zoo.”

Jason couldn’t hold back a snort, wondering how that must’ve gone over. Damian was extremely protective of his pets, so only a select few could interact with them. Jason missed the cocked eyebrow Cass gave him, surprised at his reaction. He was too busy watching you pull Steph onto the dance floor.

“Um, when does she usually come around?” Jason asked, trying to be subtle and failing miserably. “Just so I can, you know, avoid her.

It was Cass’s turn to snort in amusement, before saying dryly, “Fridays or Saturdays.”

Did it surprise Cass at all when Jason just so happens to show up to the Manor on Saturday, claiming he forgot something from the party? No. No, it does not.

Dick was utterly shocked at Jason’s appearance. It was well known that Jason was just dipping his toe into the Batfam again. He usually stayed at his lonely apartment and only came over during a major holiday. Dick tried not to look anything into it, but he couldn’t help a surge of hope that his little brother may be coming back to them.

Alfred, on the other hand, was not surprised at all. In the recent mornings, Jason had been sneaking into the kitchen, just to talk to Alfred. The two shared a bond that few could achieve. When Bruce wasn’t acting as a father, Alfred was there. So when Jason appeared on Saturday morning, having carefully thought out that Friday was much too soon to officially meet you, Alfred had already set out another plate for breakfast.

“Did you acquire any sleep last night, Master Jason?” The butler asked as he flipped pancakes.

Jason chewed at his lip and shook his head. “I tried, but I was thinking too much, you know?”

“Your nightmares again?” Alfred prosed smoothly.

“No,” Jason replied smoothly. Y/n L/n.

Virgin!Jason Todd who knew you were coming over. What he didn’t know was that you were coming over under the pretence that you and Stephanie had a video game to finish, when truthfully, you wished to see the boy from the party that had caught your eye. You weren’t disappointed. Jason had taken up residence in the living room, foot propped on his knee as he oh-so-casually held a book in his hand.

Steph threw Jason a curious glance before throwing herself down on the couch and picking up a controller. “Y/n, this is Jason,” she introduced. “He’s… a brother,” she decided was the best way to describe him.

Jason, determined to look nonchalant, glanced up from his book (he had been staring at the same page for six minutes) and said, “hey.” Excellent conversation starter, Jason, he thought to himself sarcastically.

“Hi!” You gave him a small wave before sitting down next to Stephanie and taking a controller from her. Jason soon found it very difficult to keep pretending to read, not because of the shouts and yells you and his sister were making at the TV, but because of the groans coming from your mouth whenever something didn’t go the way you wanted. He couldn’t help but dream, wondering what other situations you would groan in.

He excused himself soon after, head ducked and neck flushed as he hurried out of the room. He didn’t notice you staring after him, wondering what was wrong. It wasn’t until Steph shouted out that you were about to die that you were snapped out of your trance.

Unfortunately, you did die in the video game, but you found an excuse to talk to Jason via the book he had left behind.

Cass easily supplied his address and so that’s how you found yourself at his door one Saturday evening.

It’s just a book, you reasoned. I could’ve left it at the Manor. This is stupid.

And yet, almost as if he sensed you, Jason opened the door right when you’re about to leave. “Y/n?” His voice was hoarse from disuse and even though he’s bigger and stronger and more dangerous than you, you couldn’t help but compare him to a child coming to their parents after a nightmare.

“Hey, Jason,” you said, holding the book close to your chest. “Um. I just came to return your book. You left it at the Manor.” You hesitated for a moment before asking, “you okay?”

Jason nodded and it was then you noticed his hair was wet from a shower and his grey shirt had sprinkles of little water droplets on the shoulders. “Did I disturb you?” you asked.

Jason immediately shook his head. “No. You could never disturb me.” He glanced at the book in your hands, eyes flicking back up to you before muttering, “thanks,” and grabbing the book from you.

Ripped out of your hands, leaving you without your lifeline, embarrassment bloomed on your face. You didn’t know whether to leave or to continue the conversation — if you could call this one.

Jason hated himself when he awkwardly closed the door in your face.

He tried not to cry himself to sleep that night, images of his scarred body in the bathroom mirror haunting him

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t see you until next month’s gala. You made your way up to him, this time in a green dress that suited your complexion perfectly. Jason didn’t like seeing you in Damian’s colour. He much preferred his own.

During a slow dance, you asked with hands behind your back, “how was the book?” You leaned against the wall, smiling up at him. Jason really liked that smile, even if he didn’t deserve it. As much as he would hate to see it – jealousy swirled in him even at the thought – it was Dick who deserved that smile. He had always been the suave, smooth-talking one. Hell, right now, there were three girls talking to Dick.

Jason realised he hadn’t answered you. You deserved someone to pay attention to you. But if you could give him another chance to pay attention, he’d happily stare at you forever.

“Um. It was good. Is, I mean. I haven’t finished it yet.” He hadn’t been able to look at the book since you dropped it off. It only reminded him of how poorly he had treated you. And how dangerous you were to his feelings.

After a moment of awkwardness, you asked with a teasing and curious lilt in your voice, “do you not have anyone to dance with?”

Jason’s head whipped towards you. All semblance of coolness left him when you spoke to him. “I’m not really a dancer, princess.” The nickname slipped out and he wanted to bang his head against the wall. He didn’t notice your blush and small smile because he was too busy blushing himself and looking anywhere but you.

He wanted to tell you that he’s never danced before, but he would gladly dance a thousand dances with you. But he couldn’t say that because that would be too obvious. You’re not stupid, he rationalised. You’re perceptive and his poker face is ruined when it comes to you. You’d probably figured out he has a crush on you.

Which he does. A stupid, impossible, and terribly inconvenient crush.

As a kid, he didn’t have time for crushes. Between living in Crime Alley and being Robin, the closest thing he got to a crush was seeing pretty girls on the street. And then the Joker killed him before he was able to be a teenager.

But these feelings were bigger than he had ever felt for a girl on the street. Was this how a teenager was supposed to feel?

So why was he feeling this now when he was a full grown adult?

Virgin!Jason Todd who’s ears flush pink when you cheekily ask him if he has a significant other to dance with. No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. How could he have a girlfriend when you’re standing next to him looking so pretty? A girlfriend? No, it’s laughable. He might feel attracted to you, but the idea that he could love someone and someone could love him back, even through all the brokenness… was simply absurd.

He wished he could find a better word than pretty. You’re much more than pretty. With all the romance novels he’s read, he should be able to turn his heart beats into words.

It was comical how he can walk into the most dangerous parts of Gotham and emerge without a scratch, but with you, his heart is carved up and shredded. Here he is, flustered over a pretty girl. How pathetic.

And then at the end of the night, when Dick clapped him on the chest and berated him for not using that opportunity to ask you out, Jason thought it was extra pathetic

Virgin!Jason Todd who didn’t know how to go about talking to you. He never learned how. He never had the growing pains of awkward middle school crushes. He was having them now. Should he be flirty like Dick and all those men he read about in books? Should he pass out in your arms from coffee overdose like Tim? Bruce was no help whatsoever and Jason didn’t fully trust him yet to go to him for help.

And bless Alfred, but he was too old for this kind of thing. The butler, depending on his age (for Jason dared not ask), would either subject him on how to marry Y/n L/n before Jason went off to war to fight the Rebels, or how to court Y/n L/n in an intricate dance of politeness and rules where they all wore ball gowns and three piece suits

Virgin!Jason Todd was definitely overthinking it all

Virgin!Jason Todd who knew it was impossible not to overthink when it comes to you. Everything needed to be perfect, because you are perfect. How could he ever ask you out, let alone love you when he had scars both inside and out? It was a good thing he wasn’t a hero, because heroes weren’t supposed to have scars. They weren’t supposed to have trauma. And Jason was the farthest thing from a hero. But that’s all you deserved: a hero

Virgin!Jason Todd who promised to worship you. He promised it to any deity who might be listening just in case they had the graciousness to lead you into his arms. He cursed Bruce the next time he goes to a gala and you’re not there

Virgin!Jason Todd who showed up on your doorstep that night, worried something was wrong. He was still in his suit and tie and shuffling nervously on your doorstep when you opened your home up to him. It turned out you had some work you had to catch up on, which is why you weren’t at the gala.

Hot chocolate and careful talking led to you reaching your hand out to tuck a piece of his hair back. He’s too busy dreaming about laying in bed and having you do that again and again to register your apologies, worried you overstepped. You were apologising. For touching him. He couldn’t stand the thought of that. That you thought you were rude or disrespectful. He needs you to touch him and to think you would apologise for the lovely, new feeling dancing in his stomach and slowly making its way to his heart

Virgin!Jason Todd who then gave you his first kiss, hesitant and slow. His lips pressed against yours, soft and hesitant and a bit off-centred. He tried his best not to let his teeth clash against yours, and he worried he did something wrong when you froze for a moment. But then you brought your hand up to touch his face and oh…

Virgin!Jason Todd who finally understood all those cheesy monologues when you tried to stutter out your emotions. He managed to calm both you and him by kissing you again. Jason found that his anxiety melted away when he kissed you, replaced by a feeling that felt a bit like anxiety, but mostly like home.

His hands laid in his lap, terrified to touch you, the art he was gifted to see. You reached down and gently guided his hands to your waist where he held you tenderly. Holy shit, what if he hurt you? His hands were made to hurt, not to love. How was he supposed to love?

He guessed that you would help him figure it out

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t mind if the two of you didn’t make it to the bedroom for the next couple of dates. Hell, he would’ve been happy to keep your relationship to watching movies together, you tucked under his arm. He was able to touch you that way. He was able to slowly break down his walls and explore what you liked. A little brush across the side? The small massage of the calf? A kiss to the temple?

It wasn’t about four months into your relationship (which Jason was all too proud to boast and praise you about. He really liked hearing you call him your boyfriend, especially when another guy was hitting on you and they would turn around to see all 6 foot 3 inches and 200 pounds of him ready to throw hands.) that Jason felt himself want more. He wanted all of you. Guilt always gnawed away at him whenever his mind slipped into dangerous territory. Should he be feeling this way? He didn’t want it to seem that he was in this relationship for your body. And how would he ever approach the subject with you? Was he supposed to sit you down and talk about it or just go like all those people in the books and movies.

“Sweetheart?” Jason found you sitting on the floor, reading, because sometimes the floor was just better. He wiggled his way behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your hand automatically came to comb through his locks of hair.

He found himself explaining the situation to you

Virgin!Jason Todd who was shocked when you guessed he was a virgin. This was supposed to be some big revelation, but you said you’d deduced it a while ago. Not to mention the relief he felt when you said you’d walk him through it

Virgin!Jason Todd who didn’t know what to do. Now the both of you were in his bed, lips red from making out, a hickey proudly on his collarbone, and you were lifting your shirt up. And when you asked if you could take your bra off, he was pretty sure he had never nodded so quickly. You found it amusing that he was so nervous and excited, but also gratifying that you were the one he trusted enough. You were going to take Jason Todd’s virginity

Virgin!Jason Todd who had his hands guided to your breasts by you. His hands were still for a long moment, unsure of what to do. At his helpless stare, you said, “squeeze them, pinch them, just feel them, Jason.” Slowly kneading your breasts in his hands, Jason felt himself relax. He experimented by lightly pinching your nipple and apparently, that hitch in your breath meant he did something well

Virgin!Jason Todd who then carefully laid you down on his pillow, wanting to take a picture and forever hold onto this memory. But pictures could come later in your relationship. Not even a picture could capture this feeling that was blooming in his chest. You asked if he was ready for the next step and when he confirmed, you wiggled out of your pants

Virgin!Jason Todd who was a bit— oh my god, your thighs

Virgin!Jason Todd who was embarrassed to see your underwear and the wet spot that was slowly getting bigger all because of him. You reassured him that the two of you didn’t need to go any further, but Jason felt the unmistakable and mortifying tightening of his pants. You quickly sat up and tried to calm him down.

“Jay, baby, it’s okay. It’s normal to feel nervous. I just need you to communicate and tell me what you want. If you want to continue, great! If not, great! Let’s go put on a movie and have some popcorn. I will take this at your pace, angel.”

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t know how you could see him as an angel when the Y-shaped scar on his chest told the story of a devil. A zombie. He wasn’t an angel. He was judge, jury, and executioner. He was a broken man and yet here you were, picking up every shard and piece and creating a fucking mosaic that spanned the cosmos

Virgin!Jason Todd who counted himself thankful a thousand times over when he was able to find the courage to lift his shirt and only see love in your eyes when you saw all his scars and cuts, etched into his skin, each a story that he would wish to forget.

He let you explore and press a kiss to each place he was insecure about. But then he laid you down and slowly slipped your underwear off. Jason swallowed back all the praises and prayers that would’ve fallen from his mouth and made him seem weird. Granted, you two had been dating long enough for you to know Jason revered you, but still

Virgin!Jason Todd who looked at you, wide eyed and heart swelling with love, when you told him that nothing had to happen that he wasn’t comfortable with. There didn’t need to be any oral or anything the first time around

Virgin!Jason Todd who wanted to do more things, but his cock was straining against his boxers so tightly that he might’ve come in his underwear if he didn’t get inside you

Virgin!Jason Todd who had read that he needed to stretch you out first, but you assured him he needn’t do that. Jason didn’t dare think of another man having you and so he did the only thing he could think of — slowly push into you.

Turns out the groans you made with you lost a video game where nothing like the moans you made when he bottomed out

Virgin!Jason Todd who tried so hard not to shoot his load into you when your walls clenched around him the first time.

“You’re making this very, very hard, princess,” he gasped out

Virgin!Jason Todd who managed a few short thrusts before you grinded on his hips and he felt himself losing control. “Y/n-“ he tried to warn you, when your whispered encouragement drove him over the edge. Instinctively, his hips pressed into yours, bucking and trying to obtain friction

Virgin!Jason Todd apologised profusely about the fact that you didn’t come. He felt so bad about it that he was about to get on his knees, determined to try oral for the first time, when you giggled and asked him if he wanted to go another round. Your fingers scratched through his hair and his resolve broke

Virgin!Jason Todd who stared up at you like seeing a goddess when you threw your leg over his waist, straddling him and taking charge

Virgin!Jason Todd who, eventually, after more rounds and more weeks, became more comfortable with pleasuring you and quickly became addicted to your body just as much as he was addicted to your heart and mind

Virgin!Jason Todd who became so much more confident in his body. He began to tease you in public, pinching your sides or hotly whispering into your ear all the things he’d like to do to you. He read some of your smutty books, mentally taking notes, and he studied female anatomy

Virgin!Jason Todd who blossomed into the sex god he looked like, but forever promised that he would only use those powers to pleasure you

Virgin!Jason Todd who wasn’t a virgin anymore

Got this idea from @ivysangel and so I wanted to tag them (thank you! 💕) and also wanted to tag some other people who commented/reblogged cause I was hoping they liked this too 😁🥰

@chinapoty @mxtantrights @thithesandofferings @rookiesbookies @delusionsofgrandeur13 @yourlocalcringydaydreamer @punkeropercyjackson @averageffreader @maarriiii @wordsfromshona @arkhxmknight @v1naco

[katiekatdragon27]

Hello Dandy's World fans.

I've recently been playing the game on Roblox with my friends and sibling, and it's been a ton of fun! Sure, I'm horrible at it, but it's the thought that counts ig.

And don't worry, I draw normal things too.

Like these things.

But it's mostly angst and unhinged things lol.

Below is a silly goofy Shiny Shrimp (that's the ship name I made up for Glisten x Shrimpo lol) AU that's just angst and tragedy and bullying Shrimpo emotionally lol:

OKAY SO CONTEXT: I thought it would be funny if Shrimpo had to keep Glisten company while exploring the floors but was also the one to witness his change into his full twisted form and almost die lol.

SO, I'd imagine it going down like this.

Basically, during one of the missions below, Glisten doesn't make it to the elevator in time. Shrimpo gets wind of this and gets very pissed. Despite everyone's protests, Shrimpo decides to join on of their runs to gain iquor, but mostly to fine Glisten.

And boy does he find him and all his shattered face glory.

Glisten: "Shrimpo!?" Shrimpo: "G-Glisten?" Glisten: "I knew you'd come back for me!"

Shrimpo attempts to leave the situation, seeing that Glisten is indeed twisted, despite Glisten's insistence that he is not. As Shrimpo tries to leave, Glisten gets more attached, constantly asking Shrimpo to not leave and to stay with him. Another person in the party (haven't decided who yet), tells Shrimpo to stay with Glisten and keep him company until all the machines are done. Shrimpo reluctantly agrees (and says "I HATE YOU" a couple times) and spends the rest of the round with Glisten.

However, the whole time Shrimpo's trying not to get attached because deep down, he knows it's too late for Glisten.

At the end of the round, everyone is called to go to the elevator. Shrimpo goes to leave. Glisten tries to block him off. Shimpo forces his way through. Glisten gets pissed and rips off his ribbons in anger, letting the infection take over his whole body. As Glisten's shifting, Shrimpo grabs one of his discarded ribbon pieces and beelines it to the elevator (as fast as Shrimpo can run). However, it is not fast enough, and Glisten easily catches up. He knocked over Shrimpo and lunges at him, ready take him out.

That's when Goob comes in. While everyone is trying to get the elevator to close faster, Goob grabs Shrimpo from below Glisten and pulls him into the elevator. Glisten hits the floor and breaks his face even more. As he gets up, he shouts at Shrimpo, who is shaking in Goob's arms watch Glisten break down.

Glisten: "YOU PROMISED YOU'D STAY WITH ME-- YOU PROMISED!"

Then, the doors close. Glisten is gone, and Shrimpo is angry and traumatized. How fun.

Shrimpo does not do well after the whole incident. He is much more reserved, but still just as angry. Except to Goob. Goob saving him gave Shrimpo a soft spot for the guy. Also, Goob let's Shrimpo vent to him like the supportive icon he is.

Shrimpo: I think I miss my partner, Goob.

But he's not the only toon Shrimpo talks to.

Vee: "Geez. This crying is ruining your "tough guy" persona."

My sibling gave me the silly idea to have Shrimpo and Vee be "friends" in this bc Shrimp hates Dandy waaaaaaaaaay more after the Glisten incident. And Vee hates Dandy in general, so boom, situation friendship. However, Vee sucks at being a supportive friend.

And some silly stuff my friends requested. Shrimpo chucking Dandy into the stratosphere and Goob being Goob. Healing the world one crappy doodle at a time.

Thank you for looking at the dooles and mindless rant of a grown adult about a Roblox horror game for 9-year-olds. You're a real one. Have a good day broksies.

[jesuistrestriste]

♡ Cooking & Cleaning; Art Donaldson x Reader ♡

nsfw! (18+) cw: service sub!art donaldson, dom!reader, afab/fem reader, use of ma'am as an honorific, brief food play, oral sex (reader receiving), begging, handjob, brief edging, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms (character receiving), dry orgasm

wc: 6.3 k (whoops)

note: this was pulled from the most depraved parts of my brain. i refuse to be held accountable for the absolute filth this contains ! :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.

The very second that your key is in the apartment door and you're finally home, you find your legs nearly collapsing underneath you as you step inside and kick off your black kitten heels.

"God," you groan, shutting the door behind you before you move to peel your chic new blazer off of your shoulders. You toss it onto the coatrack nearby and bring a handful of your fingers up to your forehead to rub at it tensely, sighing deeply.

It had been a long day at the USTA (United States Tennis Association) office, and all you wanted to do was come home and see your husband.

-

After Art had lost several important and consecutive tennis matches, as well as his confidence on the court (despite his actual tennis skills still being phenomenal -- he just psyched himself out too much), he had decided to give up his life as a professional athlete.

At first, this devastated you. Not only did you love your partner and believe in him throughout his career, as well as believing in his very real ability to eventually win the US Open, but this decision of his also meant that your position as his coach would become obsolete..

You actually became quite anxious about you and Art's future at the time.. you had needed a purpose, and so did he. You both were just those kinds of people; you and him both wanted to feel that you were contributing to something bigger than just yourselves, and that you were being useful to someone or something.

Luckily, his many previous years of successful tennis playing had scored you and him a shit ton of wealth. Like, genuinely a lot. You were beyond grateful, but you still wanted a life of your own. You didn't dare to think about the idea of becoming a stay-at-home wife while he went out and did whatever he wanted. Yuck. It just wasn't for you.

Your fears and inner turmoil about this change in your lives were quickly eased once Art had sat you down about two weeks after he had left his tennis career behind. He had taken your hands in his, smiled softly like he always did, and told you that he wanted to stay at home and take care of everything in it while you went out and continued your career in the field of professional athletics.

Of course, you immediately and excitedly agreed with the idea of this new plan, and then that was that!

You two developed new lives and new roles as people over a short period of time, but it didn't take away from the love you two shared. That always stayed consistent and at the center of everything.

Eventually, after a month or so of coming home from your new job to Art doing things like vacuuming the wooden floors of your guys' expensive New York apartment, or making elaborate protein-packed smoothies for the gym sessions that you two still did together, you came to realize that the whole "house husband" persona was actually kinda hot.

He had realized it too. Quicker than you had, actually. In fact, he can distinctly remember the overwhelming feeling of heat that had pooled deep in his gut the first time he had ever served you a home-cooked meal after you came home from a long day at your new job. He had gently rubbed your sore feet that night while you ate, and then suddenly couldn't find a way to deny how this new practice of.. servicing you.. made him feel.

I mean, God, he loved doing that stuff for you.. cooking.. tidying.. pampering.. washing.. he would do it all. You knew that he worshipped the ground that you walked on—reminding yourself constantly of the time he had admitted to you during sex that he believed he would be "nowhere without you"—and you devoured the increased sense of power that came with it every. single. time. It eventually became very easy and comfortable for you to let him take care of you. You grew hungry for it.

And then this persona of his, over time, dissolved into something much more intimate..

-

After tossing your blazer on the rack and rubbing at your temples, you drag your pantyhose-covered feet across the floor and into the kitchen.

Your nose is instantly filled with the aroma of fluffy, vanilla sweetness and a bit of nutmeg. you sigh happily as you turn the corner and see Art standing over a mess of what appears to be flour and sugar in a large bowl on the kitchen counter. He looks over his shoulder briefly with a smile as he mixes the dry ingredients together with a whisk.

“Hey, hon,” he grins, before turning back to look down at his current baking project.

you shuffle up behind him and hug him, your cheek pressing against his warm upper back as your arms reach to wrap gently around his abdomen. You sigh deeply.

“Hey, babe.. ‘m so tired. It was such a long day.”

He laughs softly, which shakes you a bit as you hold him.

“What’d your colleagues do now?”

You shake your head against him, groaning dramatically.

“I don’t want to talk about it.. what are you baking? It smells good in here.”

“Nothing crazy, it’s just some holiday cookies. I found the recipe online this morning after you left.”

“How many are you planning to make? There’s already some in the oven,” you ask, peeking around his frame from behind to see him set the bowl aside and wipe his hands on the apron he’s wearing. (It was white with small pink hearts by the pockets. You got it for him when he started cooking for you everyday, and he used to feel weird about it. He said it made him feel “slightly emasculated”, but he quickly grew to absolutely adore it. It was just another way for you to claim him as your personal chef. One night before you got home, he jerked off while wearing it, but he would never tell you that.)

“I don’t really know,” he shrugs and chuckles sheepishly, “there are twelve baking right now, but I thought that maybe I could make some for our neighbors.”

You chuckle softly, your hands disconnecting from their place on his stomach to reach down and give his ass a small squeeze. He jumps a little at the feeling, embarrassed laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Where’d all this holiday cheer come from?” you smirk, pulling back from your position against his back to lean your hip against the counter. You just wanted to look at his pretty face. Your eyes quickly fixate on the fact that he’s got a bit of flour on his flushed cheek.. It’s only a small puff and smear of the white substance near his jaw, but for some reason it starts a flame in your lower stomach. There was just something about the way he got a little messy when he cooked or baked for you.

His cheeks plump up in shape ever-so-slightly as he grins at you.

“I don’t know.. I had time before you got home- I mean, well, before i thought you’d get home, and so i thought I’d just-”

You take a step forward, nodding at his words while your body is now only inches from his. You look up into his glassy blue eyes.

“You thought you’d just.. what?” you purr, your hand coming up to caress his lower back.

He swallows thickly, briefly looking down at the mess on the counter before he looks back to you. His body temperature is steadily rising as he feels your fingertips caress him over his loose t-shirt.

“I just thought I’d make some more,” he whispers.

You lean in, reaching your other hand up to gingerly hold the side of his neck while you press a kiss to it.

“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

He nods, slowly, his eyelids fluttering slightly at the feeling of your mouth on him.

“I..I mean, yeah, I guess.”

You lean in a bit more, sucking softly at his neck. His head lolls a bit forward, and you nip at him when the sound of his shaky breathing reaches your ears.

You pull back, a small smirk covering your face as you look up at him.

His focus darts from your eyes to your lips as he reaches both of his hands out for your waist, but he’s rudely interrupted when the timer for the oven goes off— cookies are done.

You both nearly jump out of your skin at the sound; the incessant beeping pulling you both out of the thick fog of tension between your bodies and minds.

“Shit,” he mumbles, flushing pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he turns off the timer at the top of the oven and moves to hastily grab an oven mitt from the lower drawer.

He pulls open the oven door, and you step back to watch him pull the tray out and set it on top of the stove area.

He sighs, pulling off the mitt and setting it aside as he leans over the cookies. His eyes are inspecting each one, and he has a very focused expression plastered on his face. He was as much of a perfectionist in the kitchen as he used to be on the court, that was for sure.

Your body moves in to stand beside him, also peering down at the tray of gorgeous golden-brown cookies. You place a hand on his upper back, rubbing it encouragingly.

“These look incredible,” you say, smiling at him.

He nods, still inspecting them, “They look better than I thought they would.. I actually messed up earlier and accidentally added three-fourths of a cup of sugar instead of two-thirds..”

“They look perfect, don’t stress.”

He looks to you, his gaze meeting yours and then suddenly everything was back to how it was before the timer went off. His hands reach for your waist, squeezing at your hips as he looks lovingly down at you.

“Be proud of yourself, Art.. you did a good job,” you laugh softly, your hands reaching up to cup his face. He pulls you closer.

“I am.”

“Are you?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

You suddenly get a very filthy idea.

“Can.. can you tell me what the recipe called for?”

His brows furrow slightly as he seems taken aback by your request, his cock already starting to stir to life in his sweatpants just from holding your body. He didn’t want to talk about the damn cookies anymore.

“What?”

You roll your eyes, one of your hands dropping from his face to reach around the fabric of the front of his apron and grope him over his sweats. Your other hand moves down too, but just to gently hold the side of his torso. His whole body jolts forward and his lips part instantly.

“You’ll like where this is headed, trust me. Just talk to me.. tell me what you did to make the cookies look so perfect..”

He breathes unsteadily, his fingers digging into your waist as he feels your hand start to work his cock up to a full-blown, hot, twitchy erection.

“I.. uhm.. I just..” he breathes out, his eyes growing lidded as he absentmindedly bucks up against your touch, still trying to maintain eye contact as pleasure starts to flood his senses, “one cup of b-butter.. ngh-!.. two cups.. two cups of flour… and then- ugh!- two.. two-thir-r-ds.. of..”

His voice trails off, shaky and low and broken as he hangs his head a bit, leaking incessantly into his boxers. It was that easy for you to work him up.

You frown, “Uh oh.. come on, baby, don’t go nonverbal on me that quick.. we’ve just barely gotten started…”

A small whimper leaves his chest as he tries to finish his words, “Two-thirds, I m-mean- three-f-fourths of a c-cup of.. s-su.. sugar… one teasp’of vanilla.. and.. o-one.. teaspoon of nutm-eg.”

You smile, stroking his cock over the fabric of his pants, “Good boy.. God, you’re so pretty when you’re slurring for me..”

He moans obscenely, melting at the praise while he feels his length grow suddenly intensely hot. A certain kind of numbness starts to creep over his crotch before his hands are flying from your hips to your wrist.

“Wait! W-Wait!” he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he blows a concentrated shaky breath from his lips, his fingertips digging into your arm.

Your eyebrow lifts and you smile as you take in the way his body shakes and shudders as he holds it in for you. He knows how to behave.. what would make you happy.. what would make you disappointed.. After all, he’s been trained by you in more than just tennis.

“Close?” you whisper.

His body starts to slowly relax again as he regains some of his composure. He blinks his eyes back open slowly, looking into yours.

“Very,” he groans.

You pull your hands from his body, and he whines softly.

“Take off the apron. Put it on the floor.”

You’re sure you’ve never seen him move so fast— his hands reaching behind his back and undoing the tied string. Then, he pulls the apron off over his head, tossing it off to the side. He watches you study him with parted lips, and he bites onto his own.

“Now take your sweats off for me.”

He does as he’s told; his shaky fingers reaching down to slip his pants down to his lower thighs, and then down to his knees and ankles, and then he steps out of them. He kicks them gently next to where the apron was thrown, now making a mess of grey and white fabric where both items pooled on the kitchen floor.

You step close to his body, cupping his face before running a hand through his messy strawberry-blonde locks. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to travel solely down to the bulge prominently pressing against the inside of his navy boxer briefs. You run a fingertip up and over the outline of his dick, relishing in the way it makes him shake. He was now just in his tee shirt, boxers, and white socks, while you stayed fully clothed. But not for too much longer.

"My pretty husband.." you coo to him, making his lips part to let out a few uneven breaths. You glance around his frame and notice a bowl off to the side that had remnants of the soft cookie dough from the first batch of the cookies. You smirk.

You lean forward and swipe your thumb along the inside of the bowl, gathering some of the sugary, buttery mixture on your digit. His gaze remains lidded and locked onto your face, not finding any importance in your hand's movements at the kitchen counter. You bring your thumb back in, showing him what you did.

He spares your thumb a quick glance, but then his eyes are back on yours, and then your lips, and then the way that your breasts are peeking out from the low-cut collar of your work top. You bring your thumb up to his mouth.

"Open," you whisper.

He does as he's told, parting his lips further and leaning in to encourage your finger to slip past them.

You push your cookie dough-covered thumb into his mouth, feeling him immediately begin to suckle on it; his tongue swirled over it, and his eyes fluttered shut right after they began to roll back. His brows furrow, and a couple of faint whines bubble up out of him as the taste of his homemade sweetness melts seamlessly on his palate.

While your thumb is in his mouth, you push it down softly on his tongue.

"Knees, baby," you say breathlessly.

Art knew this command like the back of his hand.

Effortlessly and steadily, he dropped down to his knees one after the other, keeping your digit in his mouth the entire time. He didn't dare let it go. He moved to sit on his calves.

"Good job.. good boy..."

He whimpered, the vibrations of his pathetic sounds causing your hand to buzz slightly.

"I want your mouth on my cunt.. can you do that for me, darling?" you purr, running your hand through his hair for a moment. He nods around you.

"Y'sh, m'm.." he mumbled, trying his best to speak while still relishing your touch with enough attention.

You pull your thumb from the heat of his wet mouth, and smirk as you watch his lips chase after it.

"What was that?"

You already had a good idea about what he had murmured, but it was just.. best to be sure.

"Yes, ma'am," he gasps out softly, his eyes glazed over.

He reaches up and pulls at your skirt, shimmying it down and over your ass and thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. You kick it aside, and lean your back against the countertop. Art positions himself on his knees so that he's on the floor in front of you, looking up at you. His hands shakily reach up to the sides of your pantyhose, his tongue licking out over his bottom lip. He digs his fingers into the taut fabric and looks up at you once more, beginning to pull them down.

Immediately you grab his wrists, halting his movements. His eyes look up into yours, worried that he had made a wrong move, but you shake your head with a soft smile.

"You can rip them."

He doesn't even mean to, but he moans when you give him permission to be a little desperate right now.

In an instant, his strong hands are pulling needily at your tights, causing them to rip from your crotch to your lower thighs. He hooks one of his index fingers into the inside of your panties, his thighs tensing up at the feeling of your wetness, and then he's pushing them to the side. His tongue rests out over his bottom lip as he leans in, holding the back of your leg with his free hand as his eyes flutter shut and he engulfs your heat with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck-!" you yelp, reaching down to tangle your hands in his soft curls, "fuck, fuck, that feels good, Art, don't stop.."

He moans, his eyes squeezed shut as he lathes his tongue up and down and over your wet hole. He lewdly sucks and swallows your slick that's quickly spilling over his tongue, trying to focus harder on your pleasure (and less on the feeling of his cock throbbing rapidly in his boxers.. he can feel himself leaking).

You remove your hands from his hair and move to unsteadily grip the countertop, your back pressing hard against it. Art hums around you in his mouth, moving his tongue up to lick sloppily at your clit. He opens his eyes, his brows furrowed, and looks up at you.

"God, you're so good at this.. you're doing so well.. i'm getting.. close.." you breathe out, studying the upper half of his face while the lower half remains buried in your pussy.

He doubles his efforts, smushing his face deeper against you, his lips pursing to suckle against your sensitive nub as his grip on your leg tightens. Art has half a mind at that moment to just scoot forward a bit and slot your ankle between his thighs, but he won't. You came first, in his mind. Literally, and figuratively.

You sling the leg that he's holding over his shoulder, giving him more access, and then you begin to feel an overwhelming, hot numbness creep over your lower half..

"ANGH!" you moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as your body begins to shake. Your fingers grip the kitchen counter so hard that you're afraid you'll break a nail.

"I'm going to cum, Art..!"

"Mm! Mm-mm!"

"I'm.. oh my god.... I'm... I'm-! Cumming-!" you whine, feeling your orgasm crash over you.

"MM-!" he laps at your pulsing cunt, squeezing his eyes shut before forcing them open so that he can watch the way your beautiful face moves to contort in ecstasy.

You groan and whine as your orgasm's aftershocks are uncomfortably prolonged by Art's relentless tongue, and your hands release the marble countertop to reach down and grab two soft fistfuls of his hair. You try to tug his head back from your cunt, but he just closes his eyes and presses his nose and mouth further against your core. The repetitive movements of his tongue over your folds cause lewd, wet noises to fill the kitchen.

"Art... A-Art..! Enough!" you slur out as the pleasure from before starts to melt into a prickly sting of oversensitivity.

His eyes flutter open and you shoot him a warning glance as he peers up at you.

"I said enough, yeah?" you snap, "stand up."

He immediately pulls his mouth away from your sticky body and stands up on shaky legs. His eyes look downward, guiltily avoiding your gaze, as he wipes at the clear slick covering his chin with the back of his hand.

You try to catch your breath for a moment, studying his chest as it heaves up and down -- him trying to catch his breath all the same. You reach out and take his lower jaw softly in one hand, forcing him to look at you properly.

"You got a little fucking greedy there for a minute.. didn't you?"

He bites his bottom lip for a second, nervously chewing on the inside of it as he debates what answer he could give that would result in the least amount of punishment from you.

"Did you hear what I said?" you whisper coldly, taking a step closer to him as your hand grazes against the erection standing proudly in his underwear.

His body automatically jolts forward, and he lets out a shaky breath as his brow twitches. "Yeah.. I did.." he huffs out.

You smirk, wrapping your hand around him over the dark blue fabric, "And what do you think, hm? Were you being greedy?"

He looks deep into your eyes, his lips parting as he feels you start to stroke him. He tries to stop it, but his hips start to shallowly buck against your grasp, and now he can't get any words out. He wants to, but he just.. he really can't.

You roll your eyes.

"You know what I want you to say, honey. Use that big brain of yours."

He moans softly, his hands coming up to hold the sides of your upper arms as his eyes grow lidded.

"I'm.. I was being greedy.. I'm greedy," he moans lowly, thrusting into your hand a bit quicker and with a tad bit more abandon.

"Yeah, yeah you are. You're a greedy little whore for this, aren't you?"

He nods slowly but repeatedly as his brows pinch together and his breathing picks up.

"Yesss," he says brokenly, his voice straining a little as his moans start to become whimpers and whines, "I'm.. s' greedy for you.. jus' for you.. mm..!"

You nod and smirk up at him as his face becomes pinker and pinker, "That's it, pretty boy.. good job. You like when I stroke your pretty cock?"

He lets out an obscenely loud moan as his abdomen curls in over itself a bit, his hands gripping the sleeves of your work top and pulling helplessly at the fabric as he feels a spurt of precome burst into the inside of his boxers.

You chuckle a little as you watch him visibly get closer to his climax, but then he suddenly releases the hold on one of your sleeves and urgently grabs the hand that's moving over his clothed length.

You look down to where his hand holds yours, and he lets out a filthy whimper as he pulls your touch off of him and then urgently pushes your hand past his waistband and down into the front of his boxers. You gasp at his seemingly impulsive actions, feeling your fingers finally come into contact with his slicked-up cockhead. Your fingertips just barely brush over his hot, leaking slit.. sliding over a thick glob of pre.. and then he's being sent over the edge. To the average person, the touch would be essentially imperceptible, but not to him.. not to Art. He was just far too sensitive.

Your husband lets out a startled cry as he doubles over your frame in front of him and frantically moans, his whole body trembling and tensing as his balls draw up, "I'm cumming!"

You don't even have time to really process what's happening until you feel your hand being covered in warm fluid, the substance dripping down your fingertips as Art basically comes untouched. You look up at him, dumbfounded, before you feel your abdomen grow warm and tingly. That was kinda.. hot?

"Jesus, baby," you whisper breathlessly as his hips jolt a few more times before stilling as he gulps air down into his lungs, "didn't realize you were that worked up.. that was a little quick, no?"

He moans softly, still feeling your fingers graze him inside of his boxers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." he says, his breathing hitching in his throat as he tries to get the words out in spite of the pleasure still thrumming through his veins. He was still rock hard.

You smile, quickly using your clean, opposite hand to pull his boxers down to his lower thighs. His length slaps up lightly against his stomach before bobbing out in front of him, a tiny pearl-like bead of cum still leaking from his tip. He sighs shakily as he looks down at himself, and then up at you. You wrap your cum-covered hand around the base of his shaft, causing Art to jerk forward from sensitivity. He pulls a sharp breath in, his face scrunching up a little as he tries to control his body.

"I'll let you cum again," you start, watching his eyes light up, "but! you need to give me a warning this next time, okay? I want a clear warning, love."

He nods at your words, a more serious expression plastering over his face, "I will, I promise.. I.. I can give you a proper warning, ma'am.." he whispers.

And with that, you slide your hand from his base to his tip in one smooth motion, your thumb gliding over the head.

"GAH-!" he shudders forward, hissing in pain for a moment before he starts to moan again.

"You okay? Can you handle this?" you ask, your tone soft but seductive as you try to tease him but also legitimately check in. You two were always good at looking out for the other's wellbeing during your sessions together; the exchange of love and tender-care came easily to you both-- it was never something either of you had to question.

He nods, "Yeah, yes-ss, I can t-take it.." he slurs a little, watching your hand move up and down over his throbbing length.

"Look up into my eyes, darling," you purr, your hand starting to pick up speed, "does it feel good?"

He meets your eyes, his blue ones swimming with lust and desperation as he felt the beginnings of his second orgasm start to creep in, "Yes, fuck-! Yes! It feels so fucking good--!" he whines.

"Remember what we just talked about?"

He nods fervently, sucking his plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his focus darts from one of your eyes to the other. You speed up your hand, squeezing his shaft a little more to give him some pressure that you assume he needs.

He keens instantly, a loud moan rumbling from his chest as his thighs start to shake and his eyes squeeze shut.

"Art," you murmur in a seductive but warning tone.

He shakes all over, nodding his head, before his back stiffens up and he becomes incredibly tense. You keep your hand moving at the same fast pace, hoping his memory today is as good as his stamina.

"I'm going to cum," he whispers quickly, bringing his hands up to hold onto your shoulders as he pulls you closer.

You smile in approval, leaning in close to his ear and breathing warmly against his skin as you speak softly, "thank you for telling me, angel. do you want to cum for me?"

He nods, whining out a hasty "mhm". He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your hot words against his upper neck.

You press a chaste kiss there, and then you slide your hand up to gently grip his shaft while your thumb moves to rapidly swipe over his frenulum.

"Come."

And he does just that.

Art's back arches as soon as your one commanding word reaches his ears, cumming uncontrollably with an abrupt cry of pleasure. At first, his body is incredibly rigid as he lets go, his brows pinched up together as he feels the first, pulsing waves of his orgasm hit him, but then the full sensation of his release hits him and his whole body shudders deeply. He lets out little breathy moans and gasps as he relishes in the bursts of pleasure rolling over his cock. You slow your thumb down a bit as you watch him spurt rope after rope over your hand and onto the kitchen floor as he comes undone for you a second time.

"Fucking hell," you moan, now going back to stroking him fully instead of just rubbing a digit against his tip.

He grits his teeth in an instant, being pulled from his afterglow by the feeling of your hand forcing him back into a feeling of overstimulation. "Ah-! Ah!.. T-Too much, too much," he whimpers, his hands instinctively reaching down from your shoulders to push at your hand that's currently working him towards a third, uncomfortable orgasm that he's not even sure he wants anymore.

You use the hand that's not stroking him to move his hands away from your occupied one, giving him a small shake of your head.

"Hands behind your back, please. We're not done yet, okay?" you coo.

He quickly follows orders, moving both of his hands behind his back and away from his aching length, although not without letting out a sniffly whine of protest first.

"Please, ma'am.. I'm.. I can't do it I can't do it-- I'm-- AH!"

You cut off his soft moans of agony with a brief squeeze to the base of his dick, looking intently up into his eyes through your lashes.

"If you really want to stop, baby," you tilt your head teasingly, "you can always use the safeword, yeah?"

He bites his lip before he lets out a warped cry, his head lolling backwards in the same instant. You stop moving your hand.

"Art, darling," you whisper to him comfortingly.

He brings his head back upright to look down into your eyes, his face blank with pleasure; he almost looked drunk. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted to let out harsh little breaths of air as he tried to regain some semblance of being grounded in his own, ruined body.

You reach your free hand up to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over the side of his face.

"Does it really hurt that bad? You know that you can be honest," you whisper, now a little concerned that maybe you pushed him too far.

He thinks for a moment before shaking his head slowly and swallowing a bit of drool that he realized has been collecting in his mouth for the past minute or so, "N-Just a little.." he breathes out.

You nod, giving him one soft stroke of his come-covered cock. He gasps and his torso jolts at the sensation, faint tears springing to his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," you hum, "should we stop here then? I think maybe that would be best for you.. you've already done so well for me.."

The latter half of your sentence, that subtle bit of praise, gives him all the motivation he needs to want to unravel again.

He looks down at his still-hard cock, and then back up at you, and shakes his head. His tongue pokes out over his bottom lip and wets it as he tries to collect his thoughts.

"No.. no, I can do- I can go again, ma'am.. I pro-promise.." he slurs out, thrusting up into your hand.

You raise a skeptical brow at him and his movements, keeping your hand still.

"Are you sure? You know that I won't be upset with you if you want to stop, Art."

He shakes his head again, his lip trembling, "Please."

You smile softly and start to move your hand up and down over his cock again. Despite his previous indications that it was painful, the feeling has now seemed to morph back into unfiltered pleasure as he lets out a high-pitched moan of your name. He babbles endlessly, a mixture of pleas for more, letting out repetitive mumblings of "feels good", and "yes", and an assortment of stuttered expletives.

It doesn't take long for Art to get close again.

"I think 'm gonna come again," he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut as his head slumps forward against your shoulder. You stroke him quicker, focusing on his hypersensitive tip as you feel a drip of precome come out.

"Oh? You want to come again?" you tease coyly.

You could be cruel sometimes. He had known that this part was coming eventually.

He shakes his head against the crook of your neck with a whine, "don't do this, please.."

You stop your hand at the base of his cock, halting his orgasm just as his load started to rise up his length. Art bites back an obscenely loud moan of protest that is dying to be let out..

"No, no no noo," he squirms against you, repetitively shaking his head as his face remains buried in your neck.

"You know what you need to do, darling."

"Please," he moans, "let me come.."

"You want to come?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"YES..!"

"How should I make you come?"

"Can y- keep stroking my- I want my cock to be- I-" he mumbles incoherently.

You place your free hand on the back of his head, pushing your fingers pleasurably into his hair as he trembles against you.

"You want me to keep jerking you off? Hm?"

"Y-Yes-ss!" he moans out brokenly, using every bit of restraint within himself to resist the urge to move his hands from behind his back and relieve his aching parts.

He would never do that, though.. no matter how much he wanted to. He would always follow your wants and needs first. Those were most important to him.

"Ask me for what you need again. Nicely; just the way I like it."

"Please, can I come?"

"Again."

He whines, his hips involuntarily bucking up against your stilled hand wrapped around him.

"Please," he sobs, "can I please come for you?"

"Yes, honey, you can come."

You start to stroke his cock once again, and within just a few pumps Art is releasing again. Even though you can't see them because his face is still in your shoulder, his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head as he lets out a couple pitiful squirts of white, sticky liquid over your hand. "Ooh, that's it.. good boy.. are you my pretty little slut?"

When Art hears this, he isn't exactly sure what happens, but it's like the orgasm that's already halfway finished just completely starts over.

"Ohh my fucking- oh my god-dd-! Ugh! HNGH-!"

It's like every single nerve ending in his body is lighting up at once, and he can't do a damn thing about it.. he can't stop it...

His legs nearly go limp underneath him, and he has to lean further into you to prevent himself from collapsing.

Art then releases the most pornographic moans you've ever heard and tenses up in your hold all over again. You're not really sure what's happening until he--

"I'm cumming again! I'm cumm-m-ing-! Again! Ohmyfucking--! GOD!"

He whines and sobs against your body, his arms still held behind his back as you feel his cock jump and pulse in your hand again. This time, nothing comes out. It's odd because it's clear that he's cumming for a fourth time, but there's nothing to show for it.

You slow your hand but continue to stroke his length which is now covered in the creamy-white filth of his previous loads. His cock softens a little, but you're unsure when his orgasm ends because, again, nothing is coming out.

Art's frame suddenly begins to jerk around every time your hand brushes over his tip, and he lets out a hiss of discomfort through his gritted teeth and a sniffle afterwards. As soon as you hear that, you know he's done and you quickly remove your hand. Any extra stimulation and he'd genuinely start to cry. You could save that for another time.. if he wanted you to.

You move your other hand from his hair to his clothed upper back and rub small, comforting circles over it.

"I've got you," you whisper, "you did such a good job, baby. You just came dry for me."

He nods, sniffling wetly and exhaustedly.

You continue to rub his back for a minute or so in silence as he comes back down to earth; the pleasurable waves of his release's aftershocks allowing him to bask in the ebb and flow of it all as he tries to calm his ragged breathing.

"I feel weak," he groans softly.

You nod, "I'm right here, you're okay.. take some deep breaths for me, honey."

He nuzzles deeper against your neck and sighs contentedly, the fuzziness in his head starting to dissipate with your caring words and gentle touch.

"You're my good boy," you whisper, pressing your cheek against the side of his head.

"Mhmm," he hums, "always for you."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.

notes; WOAH. ok. so this has been like months in the making by now i think..? but i finally finished it :D thank u so much to everyone who has been patiently/loyally waiting for this one after i teased it for over a month on this blog 😭 + thank u to anyone who gave me some kind words of encouragement when i had to put this aside for a while. i luv u guys !! <3

reblogs are always allowed + appreciated!

[love-byers]

the first time i saw this, when i was NOT a byler shipper, i thought el was running TO mike. i thought we were getting a sweet moment where el runs to mike and he puts an arm around her or hugs her.

then i realized she was running away from him. 

and i was like, why?? they're supposed to be the couple why does she not want his comfort??

and even after will calls her out on doing mike wrong by lying to him, even after she sees that mike is attempting to talk to her and comfort her, that he's not angry at her, she still tells angela to lie to mike. more lies. that's how much she cares about keeping up the persona. had angela lied to mike, el would've continued lying to him the entire week. something she knows in her heart is wrong and not fair to mike.

this is a theme in s4. putting who you want to be seen as before being honest with your bf/gf. going above and beyond to preserve your lie, to be seen as who you want to be.

chrissy does that with jason. who she portrays herself as is completely different than who she really is and what she's really going through. jason has absolutely no idea chrissy is struggling and refused to believe chrissy would buy drugs, because chrissy didn't want to tell him. who knows how jason would've reacted if chrissy was honest, we don't know because chrissy didn't trust him enough to tell him. that's not love at all, that's sad.

this is a point in s2 as well. murray calls nancy out for being afraid to be her true self, and she stays with steve because she doesn't have to be her true self around him. she is her true self when she's with jonathan, and that's why they worked together. that's love.

the exact same thing happens with chrissy. the first time we see her genuinely smile is when she's with eddie. she's sweet and charismatic, and had she lived she totally would've gone to eddie's show, something you never would've expected from her, something her boyfriend, the person she pretends to love, would NEVER do.

robin and steve reinforce this too

you fall in love with the person who makes you feel accepted, the person who makes you feel like you can be who you are. the person you trust with your true self.

mike and el don't trust each other enough, they don't understand each other well enough.

they would have to change their behavior towards each other by leaps and bounds, and we're already at the last season. there is no time for that. stranger things isn't a multi season show about the complexity of romantic relationships and the healthy way to resolve problems. there is no time for that in just about any movie or show, especially a sci-fi show. you know what's way easier and way more likable? pairing your character with someone they naturally click with, who bring out the best in each other and for some reason can't help but be their authentic selves when they're with each other.

did it with jancy, like i said earlier

did it with lumax. when lucas and max talked on the bus max found herself spewing about things she'd never even said out loud before, and she had to stop herself. something about lucas just made her feel comfortable, like she could be herself and tell the truth. she trusted him.

"You're nothing like your brother, okay? You're cool and different, you're super smart, and you're like, totally tubular."

jopper too! joyce constantly had to hide things from bob, she was insecure about their family not being normal.

"This is not a normal family."

"It could be."

though bob had good intentions, the message of the show is not trying to be normal when you aren't. whatever it is about you that makes you weird or different, whatever you've been through that changed you, stay true to it. dont bottle it up and try to be someone else. all of vecnas victims in s4 were doing this, and it didn't end well for them.

they even did it with dustin and suzie. dustin constantly tries to impress max with his teeth, then in season 3 he says suzie thinks kissing is better without teeth. he doesn't have to be insecure about that or try to impress her. she likes him for him.

mike isn't comfortable being his true self around el either. he's insecure about his interests, he feels like he has to act older and cooler to impress her.

you shouldn't be with the person you feel you have to impress. you should be with the person who relieves that pressure, who makes you feel like being the authentic you is enough.

jonathan and nancy, lucas and max, joyce and hopper, dustin and suzie,

cough WILL AND MIKE cough...

[formulawolff]

"you belong here" - s.v.

pairing: gf!reader x aston martin!sebastian vettel

word count: 1.5k

warnings: (slight) age gap relationship, a little bit of cursing here and there, seb being absolutely down bad for the reader, some (slight) angst, the general public being judgmental, (slight) slut shaming, the drivers being little shits (as always), yadayadayada

a/n: i am a perfectionist when it comes to writing personalities, mannerisms, cadences of words, etc. so if i happened to not do the best job with this fic, please be patient with me!!! this is my first time writing for seb!!! i am open to feedback!!! <3

"okay, from the top. how many drivers are there?"

"twenty."

"nope!" he shakes his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, "there are nineteen drivers. sorry love, but you were incorrect."

"sebastian," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "you needed to specify if you were included. because if you weren't included, there would be nineteen other drivers. if you were, there would be twenty."

"that's why it's called a trick question," his hand squeezes yours, "your hands are clammy, by the way."

"maybe because i'm nervous?" you counter, "this is my first time tagging along to a grand prix, you know."

"i know," he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, "i'm sorry for being a little pest."

"you're not a pest," your heart swells at the gesture, "i'm just anxious to meet everyone, that's all."

"oh they'll love you," confidence oozes out of his words, "i have no doubts about that."

sebastian vettel, four time world drivers' champion, was your boyfriend of the last year or so. the two of you met online, as you had slid into his dms on instagram after a very intoxicated evening out with friends.

since you had a love for formula one since you were a teenager, you admired drivers such as lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, daniel ricciardo, and well, sebastian.

you weren't quite sure where the love for the sport came from, but you could remember the sleepless nights you spent on youtube, eagerly clicking through racing highlights through various grand prixes. the sleepovers where your friends would be doing makeovers on you or painting your nails as you chattered about all of the driver drama and lore.

so, when you learned that mr. vettel was very single, and very open to the world of dating, you decided to shoot your shot. it took about six or seven drinks, but you mustered the courage to type out those fateful words.

i heard your single. we should change that.

shockingly, you received a response not too long after sending the message.

i believe it's *you're and not your. why should i take you up on your offer? you're a very beautiful woman but i need a little more information before i take you out on a date. ;)

from that message, the two of you chatted constantly, getting to know one another in-between shifts at your job, and his free time between races, press conferences, and training sessions.

eventually, he asked for your number, requesting a facetime call. you obliged, the two of you talking for hours upon hours that night. only a week or so later, he flew you out to his place in switzerland, requesting that you spend the weekend with him.

you did, falling for him the moment you met him in person. well, not like it was difficult by any means. with his charming aura and goofy persona, you felt comfortable almost immediately, letting your walls come crashing down.

nothing was too much or too out-of-pocket. you could make all of the vulgar jokes you wished, and he would laugh right along, only escalating the joke further. you could cry on his shoulder about anything, and he would happily rub your back, wiping away the tears that fell. he would hold you every night you slept together, not letting go until you wriggled away in the mornings.

and now, here you were, hand-in-hand as you entered the paddock. your heart skips a beat as your gaze falls on lance stroll, sebastian's fellow driver and teammate.

upon seeing you, his mouth curves into a bright smile, "look who it is!"

"i know you're not that excited to see me," sebastian pouts, "or did you really miss me that much?"

lance rolls his eyes at sebastian, sticking out his right hand, "good morning! i'm lance. i'm the other aston martin driver. well, you probably already know that."

"it's nice to meet you," you suppress a giggle, "i've heard a lot about you!"

"oh have you?" lance arches a brow, turning to sebastian, "have you been talking shit?"

"always pooks," sebastian chuckles, "not really. i just happen to talk a lot about racing. i'm sure she's tired of it by now."

"oh never," you flash sebastian a radiant grin, "i never get tired of all of the racing talk. i've loved formula one since i was about thirteen or so."

"that's awesome!" lance gushes, "you have yourself a keeper then, seb."

"i know i do," you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, "should we go meet some fans? i promise they won't bite."

"fans?" you echo, a shiver running down your spine.

"well yeah," lance nods, "we have some time before we need to meet up with everyone. we usually chat with some fans, hand out some autographs. nothing too serious or glamorous."

"if you say so," you mumble, the words so quiet you were shocked you heard them.

it wasn't like you were dreading interacting with fans, it was just that you were a bit daunted by the idea.

ever since sebastian went public with you about a month ago, the reaction from the public was mixed. one half was adamant that you were too young for the driver, as there was an almost fifteen year age gap between the two of you. the plethora of negative comments that flooded the comment section of your instagram posts was almost too much to bear.

the other half, however, was very supportive, voicing that they "shipped" the two of you or that you were good for the driver. some comments even went as far to say that you were "a breath of fresh air", and that sebastian needed someone like you in his life.

yet, as the three of you stroll out of the paddock, you hoped for the latter. that the fans would be kind, welcoming you with open arms.

you could only dream, right?

"sebastian!"

"sebastian over here!"

voices flurry about, calling from all directions. everywhere all around, it was almost a sea of green, fans donning aston martin gear from head to toe. people of all ages flooded your field of vision, children hoisted on their parents shoulders to men and women in their seventies, maybe even their eighties.

"baby, can i see your purse?" his breath fans against your ear, snapping out of your trance.

"yeah," you nod, fumbling with your bag, "y-you need your sharpie, right?"

"hey," fingers find yours, intertwining them together, "it's just you and i. forget everyone else. just think about you and i."

"it's hard to-" you protest, yet you're swiftly cut off by a voice rising above the midst of the crowd.

"who invited the slut?"

sebastian's brows furrow, his eyes narrowing into slits, "what the fuck?"

more voices cut in, jeering.

"put her back in her crib! where she belongs!"

"you heard what i said! who invited that slut beside you?"

"goddamn," lance mutters under his breath, "what the fuck are they on right now?"

tears well up, threatening to spill over as you duck your head, lower lip trembling. sebastian senses your energy shift, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. he pulls you in close, pressing gentle kisses along your temple.

"come on, let's go back to the paddock. you don't deserve this."

lance flashes you a sympathetic glance before raising a hand, giving the crowd the finger, "whoever said that, this is for you!"

every aspect of the walk back is blurred as the tears fall. your lips are sealed tightly shut, suppressing the sobs rising in your chest.

you were barely here an hour and fans were already heckling you.

could you even last the weekend here?

did you even belong here?

"hey," his voice is soft, "come here."

blinking, you realize that he had taken you back to his motorhome, a private space for just the two of you. his arms are open, inviting you in. you nearly collapse into his chest, burying your head in it as he rubs your back.

"i'm so sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, "they're right. i don't belong here."

"stop that," fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head up, "you do belong here. you belong here just as much as anyone else does. i need you here."

"you promise?"

"i promise baby," sebastian tucks a few wisps of hair behind your ear, "you're irreplaceable. who cares what they think? just focus on me. it's just you and i this weekend, okay?"

"okay," you nod, sniffling slightly.

"you know what i think?" he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"what?" you inquire, the tears dissipating as he brings you in closer.

"they're just jealous that i have the most breathtaking, stunning, kindest, funniest girlfriend in the whole wide world. and no one, i mean no one, can take that away from me. you're mine baby. and nothing is ever going to change that."

you find yourself nearly crumbling into his chest once again, "you mean that?"

"of course i do. now, let's go try this again. if anyone is rude or hateful, i'll just spit on them, okay?"

[kquil]

SIRIUS BLACK | HIS FUTURE WIFE

request : Hi, this is my first time requesting so I don't really know how 😅, but can you write something with Sirius being in love with reader and basically just like jily type of love where he always follows her and calls his future wife — @moonlightwonderland

length : 1.1k

“There’s my girl,” Sirius grins, walking up to you with his arms open as if he was expecting a hug. 

“I’m not your girl, Sirius,” you huff, clutching your books closer to your chest and side stepping, avoiding his arms entirely. It’s been a year since Sirius Black has decided to pursue only you and abandoned his playboy persona. Now he was a committed man. His entire focus has zeroed in on you and you hate it. You hardly used to draw any attention but now, most of the female population at Hogwarts was glaring you down. It’s not your fault Sirius Black decided to turn over a new leaf and made you his primary objective; these girls need to stop making it seem like you forced Sirius to take amortentia. 

But, from the circumstances, you might as well have given him the love potion. He follows you around and does whatever he can to get your attention, even if he makes a fool of himself. He goes out of his way to buy and give you your favourite treats from Honeydukes and helpfully does your bidding wherever, whenever. It would have been a nice gesture when he brought down books from higher shelves for you that one time…if only he didn’t immediately demand a kiss as ‘thanks’ right after. He deserved being hit upside the head for that.   

You just want to be left alone so you wouldn’t have to worry about constantly being stared at by envious girls or gossiping teens who had nothing better to do with their time. 

“My future wife then,” Sirius’s boyish grin grows wider the instant you roll your eyes at him and stomp away, figuring a different route for your journey to class would help you avoid the rebellious teen. But Sirius is unrelenting, following after you with a skip in his step. 

“Stop following me, Sirius,” you groaned and quickened your pace but it was no use. His persistence is challenging and you eventually succumb to his irritable company. 

“But I don’t want to, wifey,” he protests. 

“Don’t call me that, and it doesn’t matter; I want you to leave me alone,‘ you counter. 

“No,”

“Yes,”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Your bickering is commonplace in the hallways and within classes now, although it’s more a legitimate argument for you and Sirius is just playing along. It truly was a mystery to everyone why the Sirius Black, notorious fuckboy and ladies man was suddenly abandoning all that for one girl. Only he knew the real reason. And it was frustrating, especially to you. He can’t just change everything about his mannerisms and force all that attention on you, his good looks, fun personality and enchanting eyes could only absolve him so much. You’d rather be dead before you ever confess that to him, though, it’ll only worsen your situation. 

You did have one saving grace, however. When classes were over, you could find peace and quiet down by the black lake, teetering on the borders of the forbidden forest. This was where you had met your year-long dearest friend, Snuffles. Injured and quivering from the cold, you nursed him back to health a year ago, abandoning your classes for the day so that you could make sure he got better. You knew that dogs weren’t allowed at Hogwarts so you didn’t want to risk anything by taking him to madam Pomfrey. Thankfully, his injuries weren’t too bad at the time and he just needed some company to care for him lovingly. 

“Hello handsome,” you smile upon seeing the familiar black dog through the trees of the forest. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he bounds over with enthusiastic barks and happy tail wags, “I’m happy to see you too boy!” kneeling down, you hug him around his neck and press kisses into his soft fur, “How are we today, hm?” as if he could understand you, Snuffles barks and sits before laying down to rest his head in your lap. 

Cooing at the large beast, you begin your usual pets as you delve into how your day was going, making small jokes and giving the occasional complaint over workload and stress build up. Snuffles gives a gentle whine as he paws at your thigh as if distressed over your worries and you smile warmly. He seems so human, someone that really cares about you and your wellbeing, it was nice to have. 

“Thank you for worrying about me Snuffles,” you muse softly, “but I’m really okay…so long as Sirius Black stays the hell away from me,” you huff in annoyance. It’s only natural that the conversation directs itself to the man in question as he’s made himself a prominent part of your days for the last year, “ugh! He’s so infuriating,” you frown down at the black dog still resting in your lap, “he won’t leave me alone no matter how much I tell him to. He’s been doing it for a year now and I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Today, he actually called me his future wife! What’s that about?!” you groan and push your head back. 

The sky is a pretty blue and you stare at it for a while before you continue, looking down when you feel a significant shift in Snuffles’s postion. The large black dog sits up and leans over to prop his head up on your shoulder and press his muzzle into your neck. He finds a sensitive spot and elicits a dulcet giggle from you, “if only he was as sweet and gentle as you, Snuffles,” you sigh, a small heat climbing up your neck and settling into your cheeks, “maybe then he could finally get me, just like he wants,” Snuffles pulls away and huffs, his version of a subtle sneeze. 

“Excuse you,” you tease, reaching up to scratch at the fur on his neck before you cup his face and bring his nose close so you could boop it with your own. 

“It’s a real shame, though,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around Snuffles’s neck once more and tucking your face into his fur, “his looks are exactly my type…”  Snuffles stiffens under your embrace but you don’t notice, “and he has some good personality traits too…if only he wasn’t so irritating,” there was a stutter in Snuffles’s movement when you lean back and pet his head softly, “you know, he started acting strange like this after I met you, Snuffles…I-” it was just a passing thought but there was a sudden realisation that slowly consumes your features, reflecting primarily in your eyes. It doesn’t help that the large dog before you slowly morphs into the man you were just complaining about. 

“Clever girl,” Sirius grins as he takes your chin in his fingers and pulls you in close, his breath ticking your lips as he continues to whisper, “I expect nothing less from my future wife,”

When he kisses you, sweet but amorously, you kiss back.

a/n : my first request! lets go! i hope i did it justice darling, and i hope everybody enjoyed the read!

navi. | more oneshots

taglist : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @tiensmamains @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @rosaleenablack

[sisaloofafump]

Thinking about Bruce getting hit by a spell that gives him catlike features for a year. It lasts long enough that he knows he can't hide it, so he integrates it into his public persona.

It doesn't really affect his Batman work. He perches on high places and turns away from physical affection like usual. His cowl already has places for ears and his tail is hidden by his cape. His balance is already so good. The eyes make his night vision better, the flexibility in his feet makes him swifter, he modifies the gloves to match Selina's claws.

But there are little things that change.

He's more sleepy, constantly, and it's rarely a deep nap but he nods off whenever he can. Every few days he needs to cuddle with someone safe and is restless and needy if he can't. His meals (already dense and few and far between) stick to a strict schedule. He sniffs things.

And with those that he's close to, it gets a little more apparent.

He deposits care packages at his kids' doors in the middle of the night with no explanation

He hisses at criminals

He licks his thumb and rubs sauce splatter off Alfred's face in the kitchen

Diana picks him up by the scruff like a misbehaving kitten and he just goes limp

Selina is having the absolute best time of her life. It doesn't matter that they're fighting, once she hears the news she runs back to Gotham and doesn't let him out of the bed for a week

She is, however, mockingly offended that he's both stolen her aesthetic and that he refuses to lean into it. She keeps making him catsuits. She "buys" him cat themed jewelry and he can't even complain about it because she's looking at him with such wonder and awe and then kissing him stupid

He melts into Clark's pets and practically climbs into his lap when they're alone. (Totally Platonically of course). He travels to Metropolis semi-regularly to take care of his cuddling needs away from the indignity of his household

He always checks and makes sure Superman's hair curl is perfect

Socialites love it. They pet his ears and his tail and he drapes himself over them pretending he loves it too, focusing all his attention on controlling his tail muscles and not letting it flick angrily

"Oh no, it didn't give me the muscles to purr" Brucie explains, and then he spots Friend! Ally! Lois Lane across the hall and starts purring up a storm

Lois is unbelievably smug as her and Bruce are nearly chased out by an incredibly jealous heiress

Both Cass and Stephanie are so excited and Steph stops avoiding patrols with Bruce because her need to sneak up behind him and pat his (cowled) head is too strong. He lets it happen. They work well together when she knows she's only allowed to keep it up if she follows all his other mission commands

Damian brings him pamphlets on feline health and behaviours and enforces strict adherence to its guidelines

Jason is insufferable about it, not lessening in his taunts even after the novelty has worn off for everyone else. Bruce once picks him up by the scruff and he goes limp

Wayne Foundation sells multiple photoshoot calendars, ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous. Selina (who is semi-publicly known to be Catwoman after her most recent arrests) directs them the shoot, to the horror of most of the crew

They sell out immediately

Lois buys all three and places the most scandalous in the kitchen with sticky notes covering the most sensitive areas (but leaving enough to let the imagination go wild). The wholesome one goes beside their bed and the mid tier one is on Clark's desk at the Planet. He moves it to Lois's desk. Lois changes his computer wallpaper a full frontal cat!Bruce nude

Bruce gets away with catnapping throughout any meeting he wants

He sets up a "nap room" attached to his office which provides ample excuse to sneak away or work on his batcomputer

Dick doesn't know how to feel. Humour, yes, but it reminds him of the cat themed entertainers at the circus and their acrobatic stunts. He teaches Bruce some of them. He doesn't say why (but Bruce knows)

Bruce chirps when he's sleepy. He curls up with Clark on the couch and Clark memorizes the sound

He accidentally chirps over comms once and without hesitation Clark and Diana reply back. The rest of the league is deeply confused but it becomes a nearly effective check in system for the Trinity

Clark subconsciously learns how to purr. Lois gives him absolute hell for it. The apartment vibrates minutely whenever Bruce is over

Bruce's ears and tail are horribly transparent about his emotions, especially negative ones. It's not purring or chirping that indicates contentment, but the lack of his tail's near constant flicking and ticked off ears

Tim is one of the only ones who tries to optimize the cat features as part of Batman. He isn't distracted by or infantilizing of them, but he also doesn't ignore them and pretend everything is the same

Duke thinks it's Bad Ass but doesn't push the gimmick when he realizes Bruce won't lean into it. He once snips off a piece of Bruce's fur on a dare by his civilian friends. He sells it for $690

Bruce goes cowl & capeless at core-group Justice League meetings because the suit still too constructing and sensory-overwhelming no matter how much he modifies it. His glare dares them to be distracted by it. They still are.

Most of them move on after a few months. Barry never does. Actually if we're being honest none of them do, but most of them stop hovering around and hoping to pet him. (And he trusts them. He allows some initial pets to get the curiosity out of their system. Until he gets overwhelmed and shuts it all down)

Hal is gravely injured on a mission and Bruce wraps him in his arms and purrs until evac arrives. They never talk about it again

Oliver wonders if he should get an animal themed transformation. Zatanna gives him a rat tail

Diana is delighted by the increased spring in his pounces and elects herself his principle sparring partner

(Dinah propositions him for a threesome. Bruce takes one look at Ollie's tail and walks away)

Bruce claws up Clark's cape and perches on his shoulders while he flies

He rips up little papers at his desk while working

When the batsignal goes up, he abandons everything and pounces towards it. Gordon finds him tapping at the bright light with his claw

Helena’s dog hates him

For a few weeks in the second month, he has two sets of canines as his adult cat teeth come in. What starts as a duo Alfred & Damian project to find appropriate teething material for Bruce that is a) effective and b) dignified enough Bruce would use it, spirals into a full batfamily effort. Too many people buy the exact same cheap adult batsignal chew necklace. Luke designs a high tech chewable batarang. Dick suggest an old cowl's ears. Finally someone brings him a chew necklace shaped like the Superman crest and Bruce gets way too much satisfaction walking out of a WE board meeting with an punctured and ruined El crest

Clark puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder during monitor duty, expecting either aloof rejection or a cuddle. Bruce bites him. That knocks the remaining baby teeth out

Diana performs his dental check ups because her fingers are strong but forgiving, and Clark Is Not Jealous

Bruce will give Jon and the shy children of socialites and WE employees piggybacks and let them play with his hair and ears, and or get away with tugging on his tail. It's uncomfortable, but he enjoys their glee and what little he can do to entertain them

Clark tries picking Bruce up by the scruff and Bruce hisses at him

Bruce only talks to J'onn telepathically

Unthinking, in an emergency, Bruce uses his serrated tongue and licks the kryptonite particles off of Clark's face

Inspired by the whiskers he unfortunately did not get, Bruce inputs sensors on the side of his cowl to help him judge what he's able to squeeze through

The one person who hates it is Kate. She attends some of the same events as Bruce as resents the attention he gets, both for his sake and because of her own annoyance. She thinks it's stupid how much mission time is wasted talking about it. She wishes it happened to her. She is Bruce's main ally in getting conversations back on track

Bruce gets so many love letters and proposals in the mail from all over the world. Selina puts them all in a binder and, even when wearing a disguise, pulls him closer whenever she sees one of the authors in person

Babs is (aside from changing some of his interface to have some cat themes) very professional about it. She low effort dresses up as a cat for a last minute Halloween event and Dick retches when she tries to flirt with him

Everyone buys him cat collars. Most are cheap gag gifts. Most are bat merch. Hal gives him a green lantern one. Steph gives him a Superman one.

Selina gives him dozens but the only one he'll wear isn't a collar at all but a lacy black choker with a dainty chain decal and a little heart charm. Bruce wears it to a gala and doesn't understand Clark's expression until he looks at it under a microscope. "Property of S". He looks into claw coverings Selina helped add to his gloves. "Property of C". Huh. Maybe that explains why Clark looked at them weird

His butt wiggles before he jumps

When the year is nearly up, Bruce pretends he won't mourn any of it and continues like normal. Selina debates trying to extend it. Zatanna could, but ultimately they decide to let it go

Unlike in the first week, Bruce and Selina fight a lot in the days before the end because emotions are high and Selina is clingy. It doesn't stop them from making the most of each night tho

Clark is disappointed that his time as Designated Bruce Cuddler and their semi-regular hangouts are coming to an end. Lois was dragging them through an X-Files marathon and they had only a couple seasons left

Diana gives in and takes him to the Andromeda Mall for a spa day so she can finally coo over him in relative privacy

When it ends, Bruce goes back to his old suit with no comment. He barely addresses the change and, aside from a few wayward jokes, people move on. But if they look closely, they'd see how the claws remain, and the springing support near his ankles

Selina leaves for a time after she realizes he wants to pretend it never happened and their increasing arguments were no longer tempered by sex. Bruce pretends it's not ironic that he'd lose two cat aspects of his life at once

Clark comes home late a few weeks later and finds Lois in her armchair and Bruce there with popcorn and X-Files queued up. Bruce sits on the opposite end of the couch, but he doesn't seem to mind when Clark tucks his legs up on the cushions and rests his feet against Bruce's thigh

Everyone still gives him cat toys too often

Selina spots Bruce in the lobby of her favourite ballet and the frills of a black lace choker are peaking out of his collar. She smiles

(Also for the next 4 years Hal will only show Batman as a cat during strategy simulations)

Anyway. Cat Bruce <33

[radiance1]

DnD au where either the batfam or some mebers of the Justice League get taken into a game.

Who's the game master? Both Vlad and Ghost Writer. Ghost Writer makes the overall world while Vlad voices everything and adapts on the fly when the 'players' do things they didn't expect.

The thing that I'm thinking about here is that Danny is a Naga, and in his lore he's actually a very important and powerful person, either politically or physically. Probably physically, but he constantly plays the damsel in distress for like, no reason.

The boy just genuinely likes to play the damsel in distress even through he's actually quite powerful in the grand scheme of things.

But here's the thing.

The batfam/Justice League don't know that.

They just think he's a very unlucky monster guy who keeps landing himself into dangerous situations and calls for them to save him when he's in trouble and, them being heroes, they save him every time.

The opposite of Jazz, really.

Who is a badass character that, at the start of the entire thing, saved the players from one thing or another at times and then helped them in battle in the later game while also secretly being a very important character in the lore just like Danny.

Is Jazz also a Naga? I don't know, had me thinking that she was more of an Amazon or something like that. But she could be a Naga not gonna lie.

AnYWYAS.

How are Danny and Jazz important? Well, I would like to think that they are actually royalty. Like, full blown very important royals from a very big and powerful kingdom or empire.

Danny would be a Naga prince, and depending on if Jazz is a Naga or Amazon she could be either a queen or princess.

Whatever the case, the two of them would make comments about each other. Danny's comments being about how, maybe when starting out, the players aren't his usual savior and stuff like that, with Jazz's comments being that saving the players quite reminds her of a specific little Naga she constantly has to save.

Maybe Vlad sees this and decides that Danny and Jazz become a link to give the players something that they, well, missed (Low chance if Batman is there, but then again that's gonna depend on if the Batfam are in their hero or civilian personas). Like maybe a comment here, a clue there, an item given.

Stuff like that.

I feel like Danny curls his tail around whoever saves him and leans heavily into the damsel in distress act, going on and on about "Oh my hero!" and all that. Some might think there would be a problem with that, but Danny weighs absolutely nothing, carrying him is literally like holding a feather.

Which is concerning because he has both a long and beefy tail that should make him weigh waaaaay more than he actually does.

Jazz definitely carries everyone in a princess carry, regardless of gender and regardless of who it is. Has a modified carry for Danny in regards to his tail but that's really it.

Maybe the players get sneak peaks that there's something more in regard to their constant damsel and randomly spawning ally. Maybe knowing them gives them access to stuff they, reasonably, shouldn't and when they're present with the group, their presence changes some things.

This was honestly just an excuse for Danny to be a damsel in distress, not gonna lie.

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.