#gk writing

[reds-hoodies]

I’m thinking about Gotham Knights! Jason and his chain necklace-

He wears it because he knows the silver looks good on him. You gave it to him on his birthday and he always keeps it on him, he even wears it under the uniform. He fights with his hands a lot, so wearing a ring wouldn’t be the best option, but he can tuck the necklace under his shirt or zip it away safely under the suit. It’s a little piece of you he can always keep with him close to his heart.

Jason tends to rub his fingers along it while he’s thinking. It helps him focus. And the weight of it grounds him sometimes when he has some bad memories come up.

He’s smitten with you, he won’t admit it but he wears it to give you easier access to him. He shivers when you trail your fingers across the links. How your fingertips whisper over the sensitive skin on his neck nearly makes his knees buckle.

He likes when you use it to pull him close to kiss him. The way your fingers brush his skin as you yank him to you like you were pulling a collar. And god does he love that.

Hell, he’ll even put it on you. It’s his favorite thing for you to wear, especially if it’s all you’re wearing. When its links sparkle against your skin, glistening against you— the most beautiful jewel he has ever seen.

He loves his chain necklace.

[madeleine-line]

Leaving lipstick kisses on their face | GK x Reader

Warnings: short drabble, characters are Sugimoto, Ogata, Usami, GN/ambiguous reader, nothing but pure fluff, maybe a little ooc haven’t written in awhile,,,

Just a little idea I had,,, trying to get back into writing some more so I can FINALLY get to all the overdue requests in my inbox lol. Sorry it’s not much, might come back to this and write for more characters at a later date, but for now I am going to take a nap loll

When Sugimoto feels your lips make contact with his cheek he laughs softly and leans into it a bit. He sighs contently as you pull away, his hand moving to feel over the small stain you’ve left. As he goes to say something you quickly shut him up by pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then another to his nose, and a few more to his cheeks. He laughs a bit harder at your antics, he places his hand over your mouth and gently pushes your face away. “C’mon, stop fooling around, I’m trying to focus here…” he scolds half heartedly. He uses his sleeves to wipe away most of the lipstick stains, it’s not until much later when Asirpa points it out to him that he realizes he missed a few spots…

Ogata lets out a huff of frustration when he feels your chest press against his back and your arms wrap around his shoulders. Despite seeming annoyed he does nothing to weasel out of your grasp, only placing a hand on your forearm. “What is it now? can’t you see I’m busy?” You only giggle as you press your lips to his forehead, making a quiet ‘mwah’ sound. He sighs a bit louder and pulls his face away from you. But it’s no use, you’re relentless as you pepper feather light kisses across his cheeks. He tolerates it for a few seconds before finally breaking away from you, pushing you off him completely. “What’s gotten into you…” he grumbles. Later as he’s reminiscing on the moment he realizes that you left quite a few stains across his face. He’s a little annoyed as he carefully wipes off all the marks, but there’s a small warm feeling in his chest.

Usami smiles wide when you pull him into a hug and quickly wraps his arms around you, clingy as ever. “Oh? Did you miss me?” He smiles into your lips as you press a small peck to his lips. He reaches up to try and wipe your smudged lipstick, only for you to push his hand away and continue pressing kiss after kiss all over his face. He laughs as he soaks in your affections, enjoying every time time your lips meet his skin. He whines softly as you try and pull away, his grip on you tightening. “Hey, where are you going? I’m not done with you yet!”

[itsawritblr]

WTF is it with Kembleford?

Atheists just fucking flock there. More than half the people Father Brown meets say, "I don't believe in God." And he's like

And gays! It's like every lesbian and gay man in the UK shows up in the village sooner or later. And Father Brown is all

It's like word got out that Kembleford has the least judgemental priest in Christendom, one who doesn't stick to the Rules very much, so everyone moves to the village.

Not sure what G.K. Chesterson would think, but speaking as a life-long atheist I'd love to have tea and Mrs. McCathy's award-winning strawberry scones with Father Brown.

[zorionbbq]

"The morning lit his bedroom with tepid lilacs. Wherever light could reach, there were bulging cabinet handles, sallow sheets, flattened carpets; where it couldn’t, there was nothing at all. The pale spots of life, surrounded by pitch-black pits and corners, looked like a poorly printed photograph."

fanart for @cleveradjacent's fic "This Weapon Wants"! :^]

[5tr4wbaby]

I just have a few thoughts

[jellomphetamine]

guess my mood gang

feat. usami the weighted blanket

[mrs-bluemarine]

Warm on a Cold Night

YHE UKCING GUY OF ALL TIME

Draw me like one of your German girls. Divider credit goes to @!cafekitsune!

Pairing: Vasily x Franziska

WC: 3k

Notes: Fluff :3 wound kissing, my favorite, and Franziska nearly freezes to death y'know the usual

The moment she and her group took one step out of Russia, it seemed that all hell broke loose.

Winds were howling, snow was getting picked up and thrown in everyone's faces. It was hard to see three feet ahead of you in a storm like this, however they pushed on. Everybody tried to stick together, tried to yell through the wind to communicate, but for someone like the German woman, who never had the luck of finding herself in a growing blizzard, she was falling behind.

Ice stung her eyes, her vision becoming blurry. It felt like any longer out there and her tears would freeze in her eyes. The wind only pushed her backwards despite all she tried. Inside of her hazy vision, black figures became mere specks, disappearing into the storm, and her heart dropped. Where did the rest go?

The blonde looked left and right. She couldn’t hear a damn thing over the howling wind, it stole her voice when she tried to call out. Sugimoto, Asirpa, Siraishi… She even called out for the hooded man, but there wasn’t anyone to be found.

The blonde stopped in her tracks. Was she lost?

No… If she kept moving forward, she’d find something, wouldn’t she? Everyone has to just be up ahead, but with every step forward she took it felt like the wind pushed her back six. She tried her best to keep a positive face as she carried on, but something kept whispering in her ear. This wasn’t the end for her, was it?

Something captured her frozen hand, something big and warm. A mitten-wrapped palm. Her eyes traveled up the arm to find it attached to a familiar body, finding familiar eyes.

The Russian man pulled her close to his chest as he wordlessly began guiding her to the left. Within the pure whiteness surrounding them, something came into focus. A wall of darkness overcame her vision as the sniper continued guiding her closer.

A cave! He’s seriously found a cave in this mess?

The hole in the wall of rock was rather shallow, but big, and it did its job by protecting them from the icy wind. Seeing some dead foliage and tree branches gave her the idea for a fire. Instincts kicked in. Never before had she found herself in a blizzard, but she knew damn well how to make a fire. She immediately got to work collecting all the leaves and dry twigs she could find in a small pile in the middle of the cave. The Russian sniper watched silently.

Trembling hands rummaged through her pockets, finding a wooden matchbox with a measly amount of match sticks left to bounce around in their case.

Soon, a soft orange glow illuminated her face. Warmth spilled into her hands, warming her reddened cheeks and her frozen bones, and the blonde sighed in relief. The sniper came over to sit on the opposite side of the fire. A soft sigh of his own rumbled from underneath his hood as his eyes closed in quiet contentment. A moment passed where neither did anything except soak in the heat.

“Thank you.” His blue eyes looked away from the fire.

The woman opposite to him began caressing her match box, her thumb following the grooves carved into the old wood absentmindedly as fire sparked inside of her dark eyes. They reminded the Russian of the sea at night. He thought they were beautiful.

“I would have probably ended up dead had you not found me… so, thank you.”

He raised his hand to stop her, deflecting her praise, and she laughed softly.

His eyes watched her thumb move. The creature on the wooden box wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. He was sure it was an animal, curling around itself in a confusing way, unsure of where it began and where it ended. The German noticed his intrigued stare, and she offered him the match box. “Want a look?” He took it carefully from her, listening intently as she told him about the trinket. “It belonged to my father. The creature on the box is a dragon.”

She took a pause, “Um, dra-gon. It breathes fire.”

He nodded along, suddenly getting an idea. He gave the box back, quickly finding his bag to take out something; pencil and paper. The redhead scribbled something down, then turned the paper around and pointed at a Russian word he wrote with his pencil. “Ah, let me see… zmeya..? Snake? Well, it is pretty snake-like!”

The man tried doodling the creature underneath its name, failing miserably, still not understanding what was a tail or what was a wing or face. It came out as a jumble of rings and circles, which amused the German woman. He began drawing again, moving away to hide it from her. Then he proudly showed off his monstrous creation; a creature with claws and ferocious teeth with batty wings, multiple heads twisting around each other with scary faces. “That’s certainly one hell of a dragon!” He seemed to take pride in how his drawing affected her. He began writing something else.

“Oye, I’m not too good at reading Russian! I can try my best, but…”

It was another single word. “Let me think… This would make a ‘V’ sound. Vas…. Vasily?” She looked up at him. Since when did they get so close? “Is that your name?”

Pleased, he nodded, and she grinned. “There we go! Vasily…” She repeated it again, and the sniper was terribly afraid that he enjoyed how she said it.

The blonde lightly took his pencil, beginning to write on her own next to his name. “I'm not quite sure how to write in Russian…” She said quietly. His writing was neat and tidy. Her's was smaller, with elegant swirls in her letters that made it look like art, and reminded Vasily of the dragon on her match box.

She finished with curt “a”, giving back his pencil. “...You've probably heard the others calling me ‘Franz’. I guess it is easier for them to say. My full name is Franziska.”

Franziska.

Vasily wanted to repeat it, give it the same affectionate treatment she gave his own name. How unfortunate for him to be stuck in this state.

Suddenly finding the short distance between them uncomfortable, Franz sat back, looking away shyly. Vasily didn't seem to mind, or realize just how close he was. He placed the piece of paper with his doodle and their names on it aside, and began drawing something else. She gave him more space, allowing him to create more art in peace. She watched, this time from the opposite side of the fire.

Evening turned to night, and the storm raged on with no signs of stopping any time soon. The moon illuminated the ice and snow with blue light, giving the cold forest an otherworldly feeling to it. Inside their solitude, paper began to litter the ground. Piece by piece filled with whatever it was the sniper was drawing. Franz couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t curious, but she knew better than to sneak a peek, even if her curiosity wanted her to.

A comfortable silence overcame them as she watched him create. There was a soft furrow in his brow, his eyes staring intensely at his paper. Seeing him so focused… It was charming. For someone so masterful with such an intimidating weapon, she never expected him to be interested in something as delicate as art. He was a skillful hand at that. From far away, she could see one of his sketches. A bird, what species it was, Franz couldn’t say for certain. The realism in his lines was impressive, however… She couldn’t help but notice that it was the only paper facing up. Yes, the rest were placed kissing the ground, so she couldn’t see what it was he was making. It made her curiosity even worse, but she forced it down.

By chance, their eyes meet again. The ocean met the sky. And almost embarrassed, Vasily immediately looked back down, and Franziksa was taken by surprise. His pencil moved even more furiously, pretending as if nothing happened, when an idea dawned in Franz’ mind; was he drawing her?

The idea flustered her. Being the centerpiece of a work of art… Oh, how childish she was, indulging in such fantasies!

She wordlessly began taking off her coat, finding it suddenly too warm to wear it. Vasily paused to watch her body stretch and twist until she neatly placed the article of clothing to the side. Franziska huffed out a sigh of relief once her body was free of the tight wear. Really, that tall collar nearly felt suffocating. Her eyes opened as she brushed back some strands of hair loose from her ponytail. She realized he was staring, and she smiled.

Well… Would it hurt to at least… tease the idea? On second thought, it may.

“Drawing me?”

Vasily stiffened. The woman chuckled softly, watching him shuffle in place and look away.

She rested both of her hands on the ground, leaning backwards slightly. With a light lift in her tone she asked sincerely; “Would you like a new angle?”

Her words caught his attention. Reluctantly, he looked back, eyes widening at the sight. The look in her eye was teasing, but inviting, and Vasily felt his hand moving on its own. The first piece of paper joined the rest, and his pencil touched down. Seeing him begin to draw again, Franziska turned her nose, putting on a placid face for his picture.

She wasn't sure how long it took. Her arms were beginning to tire, however she refused to move, wanting to be the perfect reference for the artist.

Vasily on the other hand took care of every press of his pencil. Every line and curve was delicate, but deliberate. The features of her's he enjoyed the most were given special attention to make sure they looked perfect; her eyes, the curve of her nose, the way the fire bounced off of her cheeks, her hair cascading over her shoulder like a subdued waterfall of golden sunlight. Vasily felt an overwhelming presence telling him that every detail needed to be perfect.

After what seemed like hours for the reference and mere minutes for the artist, Vasily's pencil stopped “Finished?” Franz asked. He almost seemed reluctant to show her.

“Come on,” She purred, crawling closer. “Don’t be a tease…”

Slowly, Vasily offered the blonde his sketch, and she took it gratefully and carefully. Her blue eyes scanned over every inch, widening as she noticed every detail.

Her face pointed away, a side view of her head, her body half resting, half perched on her hands. Lord, he even added the highlight of the fire underneath her cheek. Every press, every line and curve of his pencil was done with care, she could see it, she could feel it. Franz cursed in her mother language. “Vasily, it's… you did incredible.” The man gave pause. He watched a grin split open her face as she refused to look away. A new, terrible idea came to mind, his eyes found the scattered sketches next to him.

Franziska perked up upon Vasily shoving more paper into her face. “Hm? What's this..?” There was more. The bird, a street, a room she recognized as the one she found him and Sugimoto "bonding" in. Most were of her. Quick, messy doodles of Franziska walking, smiling at something one of the other men said. There was a doodle of her crouching down to the ground next to a squirrel they passed by. She remembered that happening just that morning, before they left the city, before they left Russian territory and got thrown into a blizzard. At that point she wasn't aware that he was following them. But the one that caught her attention was one that seemed very recent. Her furrowed brow highlighted by firelight, eyes casted down to watch the flames lick the air. It was hours ago, she realized, when she was messing around with her match box. In that quick moment, before she looked away, Vasily saw her, and he was able to sketch this?

Franz looked back at him with a raised brow and a knowing smirk, “You like drawing me? I’m flattered.”

The redhead huffed, looking away while the blonde laughed, placing the sketches to the side. Franz watched him with curiosity in her gaze. He was so sweet to watch. Vasily, a cold blooded sniper- hell, she was still healing from that bullet he threw her way, and now he was here acting like a child. Oh yeah, that bullet in her leg… Ah, well, all is forgiven. It was hard to be upset at such a pretty face- or more like, it was hard to be upset when he looked at her with those eyes.

She had been able to see his face… but only once. Something inside her wanted to see it again. She wanted to see those lips, his jaw, she wanted to gaze upon those horrible scars of his, and shower them with attention without that pesky hood in the way. Terribly so.

She brought her hand to his neck, the touch making the hardened sniper stiffen. Her eyes were hypnotizing, putting him in a paralyzed trance. Her fingers dug into his layers of clothing, warm digits finding his nape, and Vasily nearly felt faint. He was almost taken under until he saw her other hand, dangerously close to his face. It was then he violently jerked his head to the side, suddenly understanding what Franziska was trying to do.

“Please?” Vasily heard her say, a needy, pleading look in her eye that was hard to ignore. She spoke so sweetly to him in his mother language, coming even closer. “I'd really like to see your face… only if you're comfortable with it.”

She wanted to see him. To see it.

But why?

A voice deep in his mind told Vasily no, he shouldn't. A louder, much weaker part of him wanted to show her, with hopes of more of… this. This attention. Those beautiful ocean eyes of hers only on him.

His hand moved with a mind of its own, his rough fingertips grazing the hem of the cloth shielding his face. How would Franziska look at Vasily now? He remembered the time before, not even a day ago he showed her only once, along with that man with the shaved head. He had reacted in horror. But Franziska… it was fascination.

She said something, Vasily didn't recognize it, his thoughts too occupied with other things. When her lips stopped moving, he finally did it.

He pulled down his mask, taking in his first breath of clear air in a long while, his sigh crystalizing in the air. Along with it he pushed his fingers through his auburn locks, knocking off his hood. His eyes opened again with the softest look of hesitation in his pale gaze, immediately looking to Franziska to analyze her face.

She was staring at him. Or rather, his cheek, noting his gunshot wounds still looked angry and raw. One side was worse than the other, the exit hole. But despite the wounds, there was no hint of anything negative in her dark eyes. Franziska continued to look at Vasily like he held the moon and the stars in his hands.

Her own cupped the back of his head, and the sniper's breath hitched in a shameful way. She was closer than ever before, the woman was silent as her breath brushed against his neck and his jaw. Every little move she made had the sniper's body failing him. He wanted to break, to give into the thoughts poisoning his mind. All he had to do was twist his neck, a simple, easy thing, but her body was rendering him useless.

And then Franziska kissed him. Her lips were like fallen snow against his jaw, cold and soft against a patch of skin where hair refused to grow, toeing the line between skin and scar tissue.

Her lips softly, slowly pulled away only a centimeter, and they traveled across his chin to place a similar touch against his opposite side. This one, the worst of the two, was given two sweet kisses instead of one. And only once she was finished did she pull away. Now Franziska looked at him embarrassed, the softest highlight of pink on her cheeks. She smiled. “Ah… you must think I'm a fool, acting like this… and with a man I barely know. Please forgive me.”

The blonde tried to move away, but Vasily refused to let her leave. With an arm around her waist, his palm against her cheek, Vasily successfully stopped Franziska in her tracks. She looked at him like a deer staring down the barrel of a rifle.

Vasily’s thumb pressed against the corner of her lips. His eyes scanned over every inch of her face. Her porcelain skin was free of any blemishes, untouched by any scars or scratches. Fit for an aristocrat's daughter. When his thumb moved, it uncovered the one thing that dared to litter her face. Two moles, one smaller than the other, like two drops of pen ink splashed against her lower lip.

Vasily moved slowly to give Franziska the option to deny his silent request, but she didn’t. So his mouth pressed a kiss against her chin, chapped lips covering her moles. He heard the softest sigh escape Franz’s lips once their skin touched, the hands still wrapped around his skull pulling him even closer.

His first kiss was followed by another, close to her lips, but not close enough. On his third kiss, it was finally where they both wanted it most. His mouth clashed against hers, nearly toppling the poor woman over and sending her to the ground. The two held each other impossibly close, hands tangling in hair, fingers squeezing cloth and flesh. A deep seated hunger made itself known in Vasily’s stomach, a gaping hole threatening to swallow him whole. And the sniper suddenly realized just how long he had been craving this. To hold, to be held, to taste the lips of another so passionately, to drown in this wonderful, foreign feeling taking a grip on his heart. And for a change his body and mind were not occupied with revenge. He allowed himself to drown in this wonderfully uncomfortable feeling at that moment.

What a fantastic woman he had to spend the night with.

[mqmotivate]

G.K. Nielson Quotes - Successful people are not gifted. They just work hard, then succeed on purpose.

Read more at - https://minimalistquotes.com

[skitskatdacat63]

pls yell about bradnate to help propagandize @antimonyandthyme thank u

BRADNATE!!!!!!! What couldn't I say about bradnate???? They're probably one of my only eternal otps, like I haven't watched GK in 4 years but I'll think about bradnate and still get a warm and fuzzy feeling in my chest. They have some of the most well written, high quality, meaningful fics I've ever read, like I'm ngl, they've literally affected my life in certain ways 😭

"I'm assured of this" x "Sir, your leadership is the only thing I have absolute confidence in." That mutual trust, and the way they can rely on each other, under such terrible circumstances, it's so!! And the dynamic of Brad, this incredibly independent, almost standoffish, shit-talking guy being able to trust and confide in the younger Nate because he respects and recognizes, the much more straightlaced, academic, Nate's leadership and that he's doing his best and is actually adept, especially compared to most of the higher leadership. They both trust that the other is working at full capacity and doing their best to look out for the other. Their relationship bridges the gap between the enlisted men and the COs, who have trouble trusting and respecting each other, and it's such an efficient, trusting partnership in the midst of the mess that is the invasion of Iraq.

Anyways, LOOK AT THEM GRRRRR

Stark Sands is such a pretty boy it makes me insane, and Alex Skarsgard is so rugged in comparison, and imo subvert who you'd expect to be higher on the leadership totem pole. I love how efficient they both are, they are truly a power couple to me !!! And also as we've talked about, the blueprint of newer ships like ghostsoap. Bradnate walked so ghostsoap could run.....

Athy, please join us in this hell, thank you very much.

[purble-gaymer]

i get one galactadad ask and suddenly it’s all i can think about

[lamialamia]

We have a problem: cheating, humanizing your characters, and delivering your message

This meta is going to talk about Crosby's cheating in episode 7 and 8 of MOTA and how the show's lack of acknowledgement for it ultimately weakened its message on the effect of war.

So. I have talked about how Sandra's abrupt change of heart regarding her principles in her relationship with Crosby disrespects her character in this post. Now, I'm going to talk about the cheating plot point again from another angle: MOTA wants us to see how war is capable of changing people for the worse, but it will not engage with this message any further than the surface level.

When Crosby decided to cheat on his wife with Sandra, it happened within episode 7 and ended in episode 8. You can see him looking at other women in episode 6 and then spend a day hanging out with Sandra and is impressed with her as well as sending her longing look, he also shares a moment of vulnerability with her by talking about Bubbles. This is a legit basis (I'm only going to talk about Crosby in this analysis) for him to cheat with Sandra.

However, after the affair ended, the show never mentions it again. Crosby never says a single thing about it, his friends and colleagues never says a single thing about it, the story never says a single thing about it. Does Crosby feel good or bad about his action? Does he has remorse? Does he feel he is justified for an extra-marital affair? Does he think he's more of a man now that he has done it? Does he regret not courting Sandra further and making her his wife?

Not a thing.

(and that's it 🙃)

The problem with this is not about the cheating itself, but about how the narrative ignores Crosby's humanity. As war changed him, we see in the conversation he had with Rosie in ep 9 that he has doubt and struggles with his role in such large-scale destruction. The show is showing me how a man like him is capable of violence and contributes to human suffering in a big grand level. However, when it decides to never mention any kind of impact on Crosby, his friends, or the overall narrative that stemmed from his cheating -- a small-scale everyday cruelty -- the show weakens his character. Not because he cheated on his wife, but because it tries to say we should ignore his small cruelty in favor of his big one. Effectively, MOTA tells me its characters are above judgement for small cruel thing. That is inherently dehumanizing.

Let's make a comparison. Meet Brad Colbert in Generation Kill.

He's a Marine who is on his way to invade Iraq and pretty much a weapon of war. Other than that, he enjoys riding his bike, surfing, hates country music, and he was cheated on by his ex-fiancee and his best friend.

Here we can easily see that Colbert is pained by this experience. It affects him so much he stopped dating altogether and only have sex with sex workers.

Despite his prowess to kill a lot of people, despite the fact that he is part of the military complex of the USA that is committing atrocities, this man is still vulnerable human being. He is still a man who can get hurt from the betrayal of those he trusted. And by showing this vulnerable side of Brad Colbert, GK effectively made its case: the banality of evil - The person who enact evil is as human as you and me. And Evil can be enact by any average human.

This is because anyone and everyone can commit both the everyday-cruelty AND the grand-scale atrocity.

But unlike GK who reflect on this duality, MOTA only spent screentime to reflect on the grand-scale atrocity. It spent time to share Crosby's regret and guilt in being part of the war effort that kill many people, civilians and military personnel alike. It spent time to have John Egan faced down en entire street of angry civilians to make that point.

However, if you do not acknowledge that your character can commit the every-day cruelty, and show how only his grand-scale atrocity matters, then your character only have half his humanity to lose. You dehumanize him. And now, your message of how war affect the humanity in an average citizen is only half as effective.

[reds-hoodies]

MINORS DNI 18+

F!Reader

That’s the thing though. GK!Jason wouldn’t be rough with you.

Do you think he’d degrade you? Punish you?

No.

This man thanks every power he can think of for bringing you into his life. Jason sees war on the streets of Gotham every day. He’s been through hell and back. Literally. So he’s grateful for the calm you bring to his chaotic life.

And each night he comes back to you.

Because you are his gospel. A deity tantalizingly spread bare to worship at the altar. And worship he shall.

He’s reverently pressing his thanks into your skin. From the tips of your fingers to the bottoms of your feet. And every sigh you give him is a blessing to his ears.

He’s kissing and nipping the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving proof of his devotion as he makes his way to your center where he has you shaking and gasping under his tongue. He drinks from you as if you were made from the finest ambrosia.

But here’s another thing: Jason is unfair.

This man will have you pressed against the comforters, nearly folding you in half as he spears himself into you. He splits you open slowly, slower than you thought was possible because he wants you to feel every inch of him.

And as he bottoms out, he’ll stop. Holding your hips still as you try in vain to rut up to him because, well?

He loves to see you desperate. So pushed to the edge that tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you plead for him to move.

And he thinks, you’ve never looked more gorgeous.

You had begged for his cock though and Jason just couldn’t deny you.

He pulls out, out, out until jut the tip of him is left.. and the slams back in. It rocks the bed.

“Thaaat’s it baby,” He grins, “ You’re doing so well for me.”

You nearly get whiplash, his words are soft and taste like honey but the way he’s slowly pounding into you leaves you a drooling, babbling mess because —somehow— he hits that perfect spot Every. Single. Time.

"Come on," he pants into your mouth, teeth clenching, the wet clap of your hips as he fucks you harder, "Come on, baby. Let me feel it. Let me feel you come."

Your eyes roll back, mouth agape in ecstasy as you shake and clinch around him. And he rides out your orgasm, pressing a large thumb in tight, fast circles into your clit. He’ll keep going, following you as you try to squirm away from him until your pelvis is nearly hovering over the bed because you can’t, you can’t-

His thrusts get a more ragged and desperate edge to them, his hips nearly bruising you at the brutal pace. Until he slams home one last time, shoulders hunching over with a punched out groan as he gives all he can into you. He stuffs you so full it dribbles out the sides where it beads down to mix with your mess on the sheets.

And the last thing? He’s a sap.

Because even after both of you wind down from your high he can’t bear to part with you. He wants to stay locked with you for as long as he can.

He looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. He’ll kiss your face, and down to your lips to catch your tired giggles and taste you once more.

You two will get up eventually to clean up, but for now, he’s going to bask in your warmth as you card your fingers through his hair.

[madeleine-line]

How they celebrate Valentine’s Day | GK x Reader

Sorry this is late, I have been very busy. Hope everyone had a lovely day yesterday and I hope you enjoy reading.

Warnings: modern au, short headcanons, just fluff, gn!reader, might be a bit OOC (I’m rusty ^^;)

Sugimoto

Sugi isn’t big on Valentine’s Day, but if you’re excited about it he doesn’t mind participating. He’s more of a gift giving type, so you’ll come home to your bed covered in rose petals with a big basket filled with flowers and your favourite sweets in the middle, as well as a large stuffed bear who looks strangely like your boyfriend.

“I hope you like it… I wasn’t sure what to get.”

Ogata

Hyakunosuke isn’t interested in the slightest, if you bring up the idea of celebrating he’ll roll his eyes and shake his head.

“You’re really into this kind of stuff? How annoying.”

But if you’re really that desperate to celebrate he’ll give in and get you a cheap card and candies. Unceremoniously tossing them at you whenever he has a free minute. However if you buy him gifts, regardless of what it is you’ll find him using/eating/wearing them. A bright pink sweater covered in hearts that’s totally not his style? Suddenly all his other sweaters are dirty and this is all he has to wear. A stuffed cat that reminded you of him? No he doesn’t sleep with it, but it does sit on the bed and he gets oddly upset when it falls off.

Tsukishima

Tsuki is pretty old school/traditional. You’ll both get dressed up and go somewhere nice- not too expensive, just somewhere respectful and quiet. He’ll treat you to a romantic dinner for 2, his treat of course. He’ll also take some time to remind you that despite his tough exterior he appreciates your presence in his life.

“I know I don’t say it much… but I’m glad that you’re here.”

Koito

This man will take any excuse to show off. You’ll receive more gifts than you could ever begin to imagine. Everything from expensive jewelry to nice clothes- flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, he would buy you the entire moon if he could. And of course you’ll both get dressed up to the nines and go to the most expensive, fanciest dinner possible. It’s impossible to not feel a little bit out of place. And don’t you dare look at anything in a store window or make any kind of comment about something you’ve been wanting/craving/thinking about because you can bet it’ll be yours.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself as much as I have, I’ve got a few more gifts for you once we get home!”

Tanigaki

He always gets a bit sentimental around holidays. He’s more than happy to go along with whatever you’d like to do- whatever would make you happiest. But he’d love to just stay home and cook something together, occasionally slow dancing in the kitchen as something simmers. He’s a simple man and he’s not particularly interested in the superficial aspects of it all, he just wants to spend some quality time with you.

“I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend tonight, I’m glad I was able to book it off.”

[contact-right]

Hello lovies I have returned with the BradNate Formula 1 AU fic that nobody asked for.

Featuring rivalries. Stan twitter. Various insults. Brad and Nate being oblivious. Rudy in very short shorts and Ray being the on-track menace. I'm aiming for 14 chapters and the first one is up!

[serenefountain]

We should popularise writing characters as dichotomies and contradictory to themselves. Especially Galacta Knight.

Make him the most awful, spiteful creature in the galaxy. Make him kind and compassionate. Make him cold and unapproachable. Make him warm and welcoming. Make him harsh. Make him gentle. Make him a feral warrior of destruction. Make him an honourable hero of valour. Make him disregard society's expectations of him. Make him desperate for the approval of others. All at once!

[gumbaigumbai]

Ramblings on Modern AU Ogata

Modern AU Ogata has so much potential when it comes to the different ways his mental instability could be displayed, along with his living situation as well.. so I'll write down some thoughts I've had/collected below (& I'm well aware Noda mentioned he'd be a dentist but I wanna explore other possibilities)

^ to preface I've read a couple works on ao3 abt this as well so some ideas are heavily inspired

Work: I think a job as a photographer would translate over his sniper skills very well, links such as steady hands and a good eye, staying still in a required position, "shooting", and freelance of course.. Though I don't think this would pay well enough for him to maintain a decent living, so he would primarily work as a morgue attendant for a couple reasons; respect given when needed, no customer interactions (or if so, very few), most talking is between co-workers which I don't imagine there's plenty of, he wouldn't be opposed to being in the space w. all the corpses, it could worsen his mental state (🤤), to an extent links back to his "canon" modern job via medical field

As for the home life; small apartment, can't imagine him caring about upkeeping the place or getting "fashionable" furniture so most items inside are just necessities. while he was only doing photography he used to sleep on a mattress but after the attendant job he upgraded to a simple bed. Definitely has a computer setup that he saved up for, used for editing/organizing his pictures and doom scrolling. I like to think he has some interest that he researches in his spare time, could be really into the history & different types of guns, or if we want to be less on-the-nose he'd enjoy deep sea creatures - just reading up on them or watching videos, maybe those informational documentaries. Also has a small amount of fondness towards Hello Kitty (bc ofc I have to add this), though it's something he's embarrassed to admit (Usami found this out & never let him hear the end of it)

Relationship w. ppl

I think he'd be pretty good at coming off as collected while working (outside of home) but when he's not required to talk with others he's contrived in public, says the bare minimum and leaves. He'd keep in touch with Usami and Tsukishima - they always have to reach out first but in his better moods sometimes he starts talking w. Usami. He used to have some sort of relationship with Tsurumi (relationship not used in a romantic sense here) but they fell out and he doesn't have contact with him anymore. Yuusaku has his # and tries inviting him over for the holidays but he declines most of the time, another instance where you must catch him while he's prone to social gatherings..

Mental state 😻

Okay this is where I take a lot of liberty so I apologize if ppl don't like this… I think he would definitely be depressed to some extent, falling into episodes where he's more of an active suicide risk, but it's not often enough to become debilitating to carry on normally. He wouldn't reach out for help, and would over time get much worse before he ever gets better (I'd like to think in the modern world he'd have a real chance at reformation though). Usami would unintentionally worsen Ogata's mental state by affirming his negative thoughts, though as an avid Usao shipper I have to give myself a treat and pretend Usami would take care of him during his worst times… And wouldn't make fun of his attempt at getting better if he ever enters therapy (delusion works in mysterious ways). Ogata would engage in self-destructive behavior; taking light drugs at a younger age but as he got older he resorted to sh. The first step towards rehab however would be a holiday dinner with Yuu where he actually showed up, and they entered a genuine conversation over his issues after Yuu grilled him enough about his worries.

Anyway, sorry this was so long & I didn't include many other characters, & if you just don't really see this as plausible for him - I like to play with him like a Lalaloopsy in my head