#i mean i still love the art and will continue to post but the eye patch should be there

[mysweetsinfulobsessions]

This doesn’t feel like my place to say, but I’ve noticed a lot of new art since Arcane ended does not feature Caitlyn with her eye patch.

She lost an eye, and she has a disability. This is canon guys. It’s part of her character. It’s not a trait one can choose to ignore (and yet it seems many do).

Why are people still drawing her with both eyes?

[ohodie]

SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist: 

@jxssimae

@jackierose902109

@dvrkstxrlightt

@yesimwriting

@1989tvcore 

@kookie29 

@dopeoafslimebanana

@vadergf

@nsyncvinyl 

@ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

@brunettegirl

[jobean12-blog]

A Stolen Moment

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: The General has been busy as of late and you miss him.

Author's Note: I can't exist without being horny over this man...they post a new picture of him sitting down and I'm like OH WELL- now I need to sit in his lap, kneel between his legs and do all these other filthy things because his legs and hands and thighs exist. UGH. I mean how am I supposed to survive this, he can't even sit in a chair without me losing my mind...guess I have to write out the horny. LOL anyway, thanks for listening to my rants and thanks so much for reading, much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnigns: soft sweetness, tension, teasing, semi-public sex (I mean it is the Colosseum), Marcus is perfection.

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

The rare quiet of the arena is almost unsettling, the usual raucous crowd nonexistent and the commanding power it exudes masked under the veil of darkness that slowly settles with the descending sun.

The imperial box is empty and the gilded seat on which you sit grows cold as you wait. The fabric you wear is different from anything you’ve ever worn before and perhaps different from anything that’s been created yet.

Due to tradition, you’ve been trained in the art of sewing and because of this you were able to make the silk garment that’s currently draped seductively over your body. You know your husband will approve, however, how he will react to you wearing it in such a public place, is an entirely different story.

The silk is layered, giving the illusion of coverage, but even in the dimness of the setting sun, you can see the outline of what teases beneath.

Heavy footsteps echo behind you, and you recognize the steady pace of his feet.

He walks slowly up the steps, dressed in his more formal toga, outlined in gold that glints as it catches the dying light.

His eyes find you and he stops.

“My gods wife.”

A heated smile starts at the corner of his mouth and lazily stretches across the other as he peruses you from head to toe.

“I’m not forgetting some celebration today am I?”

You shake your head and stand, walking over to him.

“No, nothing to celebrate today. Just you.”

He stills, his eyes lowering to sweep down your body. “Me?”

“Yes,” you say. “You’ve been too stressed lately. I want to help.”

“I see,” he says with sparkling eyes. “And you thought displaying yourself…so… temptingly… in one of the most coveted seats of the Colosseum was going to help?”

You run your hands up his chest to the buckle near his left shoulder. Loosening it, you continue, “I know how to best help you relax General and I knew this would get your attention.”

“You always have my full attention,” he whispers.

You smile, knowing the truth his words hold.

He looks you over again then reaches up to drag the calloused pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.

Normally you might kiss it. Tonight, you bite down. He pulls back with a little gasp.

“You’re irresistible.”         

His hands slide forward and frame your hips, and he pulls you into his chest, running his nose along your neck with an inhale.

“What do you plan to do with me?” he whispers into your skin.

You push his hands away and slide off his cloak.

“I’m glad you asked.”

Your fingers fall to his belt, and you start to loosen it, remaining silent.

“Well?” he asks with an amused smile.

“Whatever I want,” you say simply, your hands deftly pulling the belt from his waist.

“I suppose I’m at your mercy then.”

With a tilt of your head, you step back. “Take off your tunic.”

He holds your gaze, testing your restraint, before he relents and gives you what you want.

Slowly, he pulls the fabric off, and you struggle to keep your attention on his face, knowing that every inch of the skin he’s revealing will distract you.

When he begins to loosen the fabric at his hips you’re unable to resist reaching forward and running your hands lightly down his chest. His breath hitches and you love it, skin tightening beneath your fingertips.

He toys with the material again, and you can tell he’s teasing you, waiting for you to meet his eyes.

“Keep going,” you tell him.

The undergarment falls to his feet and it’s all you can do to not slide down to your knees and take him into your mouth.

But somehow, you manage to resist, even as he reaches down, circles his large hand around his cock and holds it out as an offering.

When he starts to remove the first of his wrist cuffs, you still his hand. He raises a questioning brow, and you demurely smile.

“Leave those.”

You push lightly on his chest, toward the ornate chair he found you in. “Sit.”

He does as you say, and you follow him, straddling his thick thighs.

“I miss my husband,” you say with a pout. “You’ve been busy, and your attention has been elsewhere lately.”

You see his expression soften at your words before the corners of his mouth turn down.

“You know you’re all that matters…”

You press a finger to his lips to silence him.

“I’m not blaming you General. I’m just taking matters into my own hands…taking what I want.”  

You rest your ass on his thighs and then slide forward, giving his cock the briefest bit of friction against you before you move away again.

Beneath your palms, his shoulders bunch and he lifts his hands to touch you.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Or I’ll bind you.”

“Does it make you wet to take control like this my beloved?” he whispers.

You answer with the slide of your hand between your legs, the slip of your fingers under the silk. Your eyes close and you moan quietly as you touch yourself, rolling your hips.

You can hear his breath hitch and feel the muscles of his thighs flex and strain. Pulling your fingers away, you capture his chin with your free hand and paint a wet line along his upper lip.

He groans, pained and gravelly and you look down to see his cock hard and arching up toward his belly button.

Your mouth waters. “Marcus.”

He hums but doesn’t move and you look up to see him lick his lips, tasting you on his skin. Staring intently at you, he pushes his hips up, his cock a heavy presence between you as you gaze at his face.

“Are you feeling more relaxed?” you ask him as you lean forward and kiss his jaw.

“Tortured, might be a better word my love.”

You can see it in the way his pulse flutters in his throat and you press a steady hand to his chest.

He relaxes in pieces: his legs beneath you first, then his abdomen, shoulders and finally his expression.

“That’s better,” you murmur.

With a deep exhale he lifts his hands, the gesture tentative as he slowly reaches for your shoulder and traces the soft curve with his fingertips.

“I think it’s time I take what I want,” you remind him.

You lean forward and kiss along his neck all the way up to his ear and he huffs out an impatient breath. Every muscle grows tight and urgent beneath your roaming hands as you tease him once more.

Faster than you expect, he grabs you by the hips and jerks you forward, sliding the wetness between your legs over his cock and griding up into you with a groan.

Without thinking, you move with him, rocking on top and feeling the hard press of him against your clit.

“I can feel your need for me soaked through the silk,” he hisses.

You tug the silk fabric from your body and let it drape over the large and elaborate seat. In a blur, he pulls you closer and pushes inside you with a steady, hard thrust.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, then stops, his breath choppy so close to your ear as he kisses your neck and sucks gently. “I can’t control myself.”

You open your mouth to speak but all the comes out is a moan when his large hand cups your breast, thumb passing back and forth over the peak.

His tongue slides over your collarbone, his breath, his fingertips across your skin and he begins to move inside you.

“You tease and taunt me wife…it’s impossible for me to let you play out this fantasy of control.”

A curl falls over his forehead and he looks almost boyish, but his words are coarse, and his movements are powerful.

“Next time I will bind you then,” you say, the words breathless.

He growls out your name, digging his fingers into your skin with his barely controlled restraint.

You feel the rush of blood to your legs and the heavy ache between your thighs build and he grows more and more frantic. He uses your hips for leverage, his grip bruising as he slams up and into you over and over.

One large, rough hand ghosts along your stomach and teases the base of your neck before his fingers close around your throat.

This new sensation brings you to the edge until you’re begging for it. His groan vibrates along your skin, his whispered words of love pushing you over until you tighten around his cock and cry out his name.

Your face falls to the crook of his neck, and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you to his chest. Your heavy breathing is in sync, your sweaty skin pressed close while he gently runs his fingers along the curve of your spine.

“I am sorry,” he whispers into your skin. “I know there has been much that keeps me away from you as of late.”

You lift your face and place your palm against his cheek. Your fingertips trace the lines around his eyes before you dip your head and softly kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I know Marcus. I know.”

He reaches his hands between your arms and frames your face, holding your gaze intently with the soft brush of his fingers.

“My love for you remains and always will be as infinite as the stars.”

[ramp-it-up]

Show Off

Ties That Bind | Next Part

Summary: Steve likes to show you off.

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Dancer!Reader (Peach); Ari Levinson x Reader

A/N: This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes fic Make It So in the Knock You Down AU, and comes after the events in Ties That Bind and the Bucky fic Make It So. Interaction is life! Let me know if you like it by commenting & reblogging. This is inspired by @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Exhibitionism. Also, @fenixstar asked for it. 😘

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Ari Levinson (he's a warning), Jealous, possessive Steve, hints of violent Steve, exhibitionism kink (sex in public), marking, fingering, raw p in v, praise kink, rough sex, creampie.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

The party was elegant as hell, the kind of event where art changed hands over $30,000 bottles of wine and million-dollar glances.

Jazz curled through the air amid the sounds of laughter, clinking glassware, and whispered secrets.

Security was present, but invisible. Steve and Bucky had seen to it.

You and your cousin were due a night out after all that happened, but there would be no risk of danger for you two, at least not the physical kind.

You were watching your cousin be wooed by Bucky, who already had his ring on her finger, but was whispering Romanian in her ear like he’d just fallen in love. You knew that he was going to get what he wanted when she and Bucky left the function early.

She deserved. 

You were low key bored, but you were dressed for excitement and intrigue.

Your gown was decadent. It was made of rich, heavy fabric that glimmered in the light with a back that dipped scandalously low.

The skirt revealed a slit that dared anyone to look, and most did. The neckline framed your collarbones like art, but it was your legs and ass that made the room lose its mind. 

Those body parts once earned you money under neon lights and mirrored ceilings; your thigh spins damn near caused heart attacks back at Regine.

Hell, Steve even built you a studio in the penthouse so he could get private lap dances you could continue to practice your craft.

You were unapologetically lethal in the dress and heels, and your confidence was all you. Steve had zipped the dress for you that evening. And when he did, his fingers ghosted down your spine. 

“You’re gonna kill me in this, Peach.”

His deep voice was even deeper when he whispered that to you, but you two still managed to make it out of the penthouse.

From the moment you arrived at the event, Steve hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

His drink was untouched.

His jaw was tight.

And every time you laughed, his fingers twitched around the crystal.

It wasn’t jealousy.

It was worship.

Hunger, just barely contained by discipline.

He was well aware that both men and women sometimes forgot themselves around you. 

Steve said it was because of your beauty, but you insisted it was your confidence. 

And your crazy. You never tried to steal the spotlight; it just happened that you were the spotlight.

It was why he fell in love with you at first sight at that strip club in Atlanta. He just had to get your attention. And he’d been successful. 

Steve loved your wild side. But that didn’t mean he liked seeing other people get ideas. 

Especially men like Ari Levinson.

Steve saw the moment Levinson spotted you. Recognized the exact second the art collector clocked your legs, your ass, your presence, your smile.

Steve had seen that look before, on men who wanted to buy what they couldn’t afford.

You felt Steve’s stare before you saw it, a promise and a threat, all wrapped in one look.

And it occurred precisely when Ari Levinson appeared.

-----

Ari had never walked into a room and lost track of every million-dollar painting on the walls just because of a woman.

But then he saw you, absolutely stunning and unimpressed by your surroundings.

Just like a great work of art.

Ari licked his lips slowly, taking you in like a man who had acquired beauty for a living and just found something rare. He didn't know who you were, but he knew he had to find out.

Your legs deserved a warning sign. That ass was perfection. And your mouth... it looked like it screamed prayers into satin sheets effective enough to make the most notorious sinner ascend to heaven.

Ari's cock twitched when you turned your head and caught him staring.

You knew exactly what he was thinking.

He adjusted the cuff of his jacket, let himself drift toward you like a man casually approaching something he didn’t already have plans to devour.

Ari wanted you. Bad. And he didn’t give a damn that you wore a ring. Or whose ring you wore.

Lots of people wore rings, but not everyone wore them well.

He guessed that whoever gave you that ring was probably under your spell.

Ari could give a damn who it was.

-----

Steve wasn’t the kind of man who made scenes anymore.

That part of his life, the rough edges, the quiet threats, the kind of acts that made people disappear, was behind him.

These days, he wore custom suits, drank old wine, and spoke in carefully measured words. His world was oil on canvas, not blood on pavement.

But some instincts didn’t die.

Steve watched Ari make his move toward you and bided his time, not wanting to make too much of a scene too soon. He was the former gangster, but you were dangerous in your own way.

Memories of your threat to shoot his balls off made Steve smile and watch the show.

—-----

“You’re not part of the installation, are you?”

It was an opening line that usually always worked, especially in Ari’s voice, the kind that usually had people ready to fall to their knees for him. 

But you weren’t just anyone. You were Steve Rogers' wife.

Levinson looked at you like you were a masterpiece that had just caught him off-guard. And he had no idea that the vitamin D that Steve prescribed every day gave you immunity to him.

“...Because I swear, you look like the centerpiece of the whole night.”

You sipped your champagne and smiled, slightly amused at his line. But mostly annoyed. You played along.

“And what kind of art would I be, Mr. Levinson?”

“The kind that gets stolen,” he said, his voice dipping, “and starts wars.”

He stepped closer. You didn’t move back. You didn’t need to.

“You used to dance,” he added, more sure now. “Didn’t you?”

You tilted your head, wondering if he were trying to take liberties because of the kind of dance you used to do.

“I did.”

Ari grinned, eyes flicking to your legs.

“Yeah. I figured. You don’t get a body like that unless you earn it.”

He let the compliment hang.

You offered a polite smile, but your gaze wandered, looking for your husband. You could feel him, Steve’s attention slicing through the room like a live wire.

“I take my craft seriously,” you said. “Always have.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ari chuckled, gaze dragging down to your thigh, where the slit was working it's magic.

“You’re doing more than that. You should be up on a pedestal.”

Your laugh was soft. But Ari Levinson was definitely not subtle. You lifted a brow.

“You do that with all the art you want? Put it up high where you can’t reach it?”

Ari’s eyes darkened. 

“Only the pieces I know I shouldn’t touch.”

And that’s when the air shifted.

You didn’t see Steve move, but you felt it.

—---

For a brief moment, that old part of Steve Rogers, the one that used to snap fingers and have a guy thrown into the East River, woke up.

And while Steve didn’t make scenes anymore, he still kept track. Of tone. Of body language. Of intention.

Ari’s intention was obvious. His gaze crawled down your legs like a goddamn snake. Then he had the nerve to step closer and say something about pedestals.

Goddamn pedestals.

Steve downed the rest of his drink in one go and set the glass down with care.

Ari was lucky Steve wasn’t twenty-five and stupid, or there’d be a broken jaw on the floor and some very uncomfortable rich people pretending not to stare.

Instead, Steve moved.

—---

And that was when Ari felt it.

The shift. Like the air dropped ten degrees.

He didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. Steve Rogers. The human embodiment of quiet violence in a designer suit.

Ari didn’t flinch. But inside, he grinned.

Because Steve’s jealousy wasn’t weakness; it was confirmation.

You weren’t just sexy. You belonged to Rogers.

And that made this so much more interesting.

-----

By the time you turned your head, Steve was nearly on you, eyes locked on Ari like he was deciding whether or not he was worth the trouble.

And god, Steve looked like he wanted to ruin something.

Maybe the dress.

Maybe Ari.

Maybe both.

Your body reacted before your brain had time to catch up.

You were soaking wet.

Ari followed your gaze and let out a low chuckle.

“Oh I see. Now comes the fun part. You're Rogers' new wife.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, smiling as you twirled the rock on your left hand around your finger.

“And he’s probably two seconds from throwing me off the balcony.”

You smiled.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed again, laughing quietly.

Ari raised a brow at you, full of heat.

“Can’t blame him. I’d lose my mind too.”

—------

Steve didn’t speak at first. His eyes burned into Levinson, assessing him and making a decision.

Then he was beside you, a hand slipping to the small of your back, his thumb brushing your skin with the kind of quiet, controlled touch that made your stomach flip.

You leaned into him without hesitation, breath catching at the contact, and ruining him.

“Levinson,” Steve said coolly, like he was trying very hard to be civil. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Ari smiled, knowing he’d stirred something up. 

“Wouldn’t miss it. Especially not with the kind of company you’re keeping.”

He looked at you appreciatively.

Steve’s voice dipped.  “She’s taken.”

“Of course she is, she's your wife.”

Ari said with a casual shrug.

“Didn’t mean anything by what I said.”

Steve gave a slow, tight-lipped smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“No offense taken. Just thought I’d remind you. Sometimes collectors get a little carried away. Start thinking everything in a gallery is for sale. Just causes heartbreak when they find it isn't. Or a break of some other kind.”

Ari's brows lifted.

“That a threat?”

Steve leaned in slightly, voice dropping so only Ari could hear. 

“No,” he said, tone velvet-smooth, “That’s a favor. Because if it were a threat, you wouldn’t still be standing here.”

Your breath caught. Steve’s fingers flexed subtly on your hip.

Ari’s mouth twitched into something that might have been a smirk. 

“Duly noted,” he muttered, and with a stiff nod, he turned and walked away.

Steve watched him go, his jaw clenched. You laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating steady and strong.

“You alright?” you asked softly.

He turned to you, some of the fire in his eyes still flickering.

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing a thumb along your cheek. 

“He won’t try that shit again.”

You raised an eyebrow. That made Steve even harder than he already was.

“You didn’t have to scare him.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a crooked grin. 

“But I wanted to. Better than the alternative."

Then, quieter, against your ear:

“You’re mine, Peach. I’ve killed for less than the way he looked at you, nevermind what he said.”

Your eyes widened as he smiled at you dangerously.

“Don’t worry about him Peach. I’m not going back there.”

You searched your husband’s beautiful blazing blue eyes.

“But do you think Ari Levinson was the only one watching you tonight? I’ve counted six men, and three women, who looked at you like a goddamn invitation.”

Your breath caught.

“And every one of them,” he continued, his fingers tightening slightly, “will go home and dream about something they’ll never have. But I’m about to have you, right under their noses. They will hear you some apart for me, even if they don’t quite know what they are listening to.”

Steve read your face, leaned in close, and whispered low against your ear.

“Come with me. Now.”

—--

Steve pulled you onto the balcony. He was controlled, but burning at the edges. The city glittered behind him, but his world had narrowed down to you. 

He didn’t look at the skyline. He looked at your mouth.

Your body.

Your eyes.

Like a starving man deciding which part of the feast to devour first.

His control was a tight thread, stretched thin, and you could feel it in the way his eyes burned into you like he needed to prove something.

Not to Levinson. But to himself. 

To you.

To prove that no one could look at you the way Ari did. That you were his. His alone. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and rough.

Your stomach fluttered. The look in his eyes wasn’t just hunger, it was laced through it was the kind of darkness you’d only seen when someone threatened what was his. 

Like in Atlanta.

“You feel that, Peach?” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. 

You thought he meant his hard cock pressed against you. But he didn’t.

“The air. The view. The way I’m about five seconds from fucking you stupid against this wall?”

Your breath hitched. Your body leaned into his instinctively, the cool stone of the wall behind you, and heat radiating from the wall of muscle in front of you making a heady contraction.

He didn’t wait for permission. One hand gripped your jaw, tilting your face toward him roughly while the other slid beneath the high slit of your dress, calloused fingertips ghosting along your inner thigh until they met your soaked lace.

“God damn, sweetheart,” he growled, nostrils flaring. 

“You’re already soaked. Is this for me, or Levinson?

Your eyes flashed at him.

"Steven..."

Steve laughed, confident of your devotion.

"I'm kidding, Peach. You get off on me being weak for you, don’t you? On being mine?”

“Yes,” you whispered, shameless about it.

“Say it again,” he demanded, slipping your panties aside and dragging a single thick finger through your slick folds.

“Oh, fuck," you choked. "I’m yours. Only yours.”

Steve Rogers didn’t ease into anything, from chasing you, to marriage. He jumped right into the deep end of you.

One powerful motion and your legs were around his waist, back pressed to the wall, his hips grinding against your core.

“You want everyone to hear it?” he asked, cock sliding against your slick pussy, his thick mushroom head catching on your clit and teasing you until your toes curled.

“I want you,” you gasped, voice breaking. 

“Show them. Show me.”

Steve swiveled his hips, and then he was inside you.

Not gently. Not sweetly. But deeply, completely, fucking you like his sanity depended on it.

Every thrust was brutal affection, devotion turned into rhythm. 

The sound of your bodies slapping together echoed off stone and glass. His lips were at your throat, teeth scraping skin, leaving marks that would be unmistakeable to anyone who saw them. Neither of you cared.

He gripped your thigh, his thumb circling your clit and devastating you.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “Made to take me. Look how perfect you are when you’re full of me. Dripping for me. Squeezing the shit out of me.”

Steve pumped and the sounds were obscene as his cock sleeked in and out of your sopping wet channel. Your wetness dripped down your thighs and his balls and you didn't care as long as he kept hitting that special spot.

You couldn’t speak. You could only moan, clinging to his broad shoulders while he shattered every ounce of restraint you had left.

“You wanna cum?” he whispered against your lips.

“God, yes…please….Steve....”

He slowed, grinding into you deep, keeping you on the edge while you whimpered. Begged.

“Right here at the party like this? With me buried inside you, showing everyone who the fuck you belong to?”

“Yes, please….I can’t…. I need….”

“Then do it, baby. Let go. Cum for me.”

You shattered on command. 

Lights danced behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you, his name a chant falling from your lips. He followed with a moan, hips jerking as his hot cum spilled into you, claiming you all over again.

And when it was over, when your bodies were still pressed together, trembling from the aftershocks, he kissed your forehead with a tenderness that ruined you as your combined fluids ran down your legs.

RIP to his pocket square, because that’s what he used to kneel and clean you up. 

You felt owned, treasured, and marked.

And safe. Always safe.

“You did so good for me, Baby.” 

Steve stood back up and murmured it against your lips tenderly, disposing the expensive, ruined piece of fabric in the nearest receptacle.

“So fucking good. You’re everything, Peach,” he whispered.

“And I want the whole fucking world to know.”

Your legs wobbled, your pulse was wild, but his hands were right there again, steadying you like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just fucked you against the wall with the city’s elite in the next room.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “You good, Peach?”

Your cheeks flushed.

“I don’t think I remember how to walk.”

Steve chuckled smugly and kissed the top of your head. 

“You don’t have to. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was already taking your hand, tugging you toward the door with that cool, collected gait he wore so well.

“Show off.”

He smiled angelically as his other hand slipped easily into his pocket. Steve Rogers looked to be the epitome of cool as he held the door for you, letting you step in first.

Murmured conversation resumed around you along with laughter and the clink of crystal. It was as if nothing had happened out there.

You were breathless. Floating. Smiling. And yes, proud.

But you froze when you saw Nico standing just a few feet from the balcony entrance, half-tucked in the shadow of a tall plant, arms loosely crossed. His posture was relaxed, his gaze scanning the room, alert and cool as ever. But you knew that he’d been there.

The whole time, standing watch while you and Steve had done the deed on the balcony.

Your mouth went dry.

Steve must’ve felt your body tense, because he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“He didn’t see anything. He was just doing his job.”

You looked back at Nico again, half-expecting judgment or amusement, but he didn’t even meet your eyes. His face was impassive. Professional. Not a flicker of reaction.

Still, your cheeks burned.

------

Ari's head was on a swivel ever since he watched you and Steve disappear out to the balcony. And he knew, he fucking knew what was happening.

He had to hand it to Rogers, he knew how to handle you. And how to brag without saying a word. Lucky sonofabitch.

When you came back into the party, your skin was flushed and you walked a gait that hadn’t wasn't present before. Your glow wasn’t just expensive highlighter, it was the kind of post-fuck radiance that could’ve lit up half the damn city.

Ari caught your eye and smirked. His gaze dragged slowly down your frame before flicking toward Steve. 

He raised his glass, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“Everything alright out there?”

Steve didn’t blink.

“Peach needed some air.”

Ari’s gaze lingered, and you saw Steve’s jaw tense just a fraction. His fingers brushed your lower back, subtle, but firm.

Mine.

You felt the wetness still between your thighs, the slight ache in your hips, and the delicious throb of where his mouth had left proof of his devotion on your neck.

You reached for a champagne flute from a passing tray.

“You’re glowing, Mrs. Rogers,” Ari said with a knowing smirk. 

“I hope you weren’t out there dancing without music.”

Before you could answer, Steve’s hand slid from your back to your hip, resting there with deliberate weight. 

“She doesn’t need music to dance.”

Ari’s brows lifted and his eyes flicked to your legs and lingered. 

You felt Steve stiffen slightly, and you slid closer, letting your hand settle on his chest in a silent reassurance. He relaxed a little under your touch, but his possessiveness was still there.

Ari took another sip of his wine and turned away, disappearing into a knot of collectors and critics.

The conversation shifted, the moment passed, but the electricity between you and Steve didn’t.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your temple. 

“You’re mine, Peach. Every single inch of you.”

“I know,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed. “And I love it.”

“I want them all to know it.”

You tilted your head back, eyes gleaming. 

“Then maybe you should dance with me.”

Steve raised a brow. 

“Out here, or back on that balcony?”

You smirked. “Both.”

His laugh was loud.

“Goddamn, I love being married to you.”

He offered you his hand again this time not to steal you away to the dark again, but to show you off under the lights.

And as he led you onto the dance floor, every guest including Ari Levinson, was left wondering what the hell kind of magic it was between you and Steve Rogers.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 5

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And Chicago has its own surprises in store for you.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader Warnings For This Chapter: Continued military and safehouse inaccuracies, slow burn romance, Soft!Simon, mentions of and very light description of childbirth, MDNI

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for the love on the last chapter. I don't think I've ever posted so consistently on a fic before. You have all really kept me motivated. Means the world to me. Oh! also, just as an aside, the title of this fic comes from a lyric from the song "Little Words" by The Happy Fits. My brain chemistry was altered by spiltspits beautiful artwork and this is how I now imagine Simon. Please let me know what you think! xx

Previous Chapter

Okay maybe it wasn’t home. But it was still Chicago. After handing over your passport to a woman who definitely didn’t check it, you were shuffled into yet another SUV and you might have pressed your face to the window as you saw the familiar skyline inch closer and closer. You couldn’t go home to your shoebox of an apartment, but Soap did say the hotel where you were staying was nice. Price’s grunted approval did seem to give a little credence to that.

Nice…was not the word you would have used as you looked up at the immaculate stone and glass building in front of you, your vision only a little obscured by the ballcap Soap pushed over your head before getting out of the car. This was opulent. Expensive. A different tax bracket.

Simon nudged you toward the entrance when you stared a little too long. The building was old, probably from the 1800s, but impeccably kept and renovated to modern standards. Everything was a sleek white and gray with modern art on the walls.

“What kind of safehouse is this?” You muttered to yourself as your group joined the small line to check in.

“It’s off the books,” Gaz whispered in return. “Think of it more like a CIA funded vacation.”

“But we are safe, right?”

He reached out and squeezed your arm before his eyes flickered over your shoulder to Ghost���Simon. “We’re going to be fine.”

When you reached the front, a beautiful woman, dressed in a designer suit, gently brushed the clerk away from the desk and arched a brow as Price approached. “Hello John.”

Oh. Oh…there was history there.

(And apparently Price’s first name was John.)

“Laswell called you?”

The woman nodded, letting Price’s lack of greeting roll right off her back. “I have you all up on the twelfth floor. All of the hotel’s amenities are at your disposal.”

Price nodded and wordlessly took the key cards she handed over and then started to herd you toward the shining elevators on the other side of the lobby. You quickly told her ‘thank you,’ earning a laugh, and then were almost immediately pressed into the corner of the elevator. Both Simon and Soap stood in front of you, massive forms basically shielding you from anyone in the lobby seeing you. But you did manage to see Price press a key into a hole beside the button for the twelfth floor and turn it before the elevator started to rise.

The ride up was smooth and silent, even as Price handed out key cards. Plush carpet quieted your footsteps as you stepped out into the windowless hallway and five doors spaced apart evenly. If you were a betting woman, which you definitely were not, you would guess that all the other floors had more than five rooms.

Price stopped at the first door, 121, and then turned to you, handing you the last key card. “Figured you’d want your own space. I’ll have to explain the rules in a bit. But I’ll let you get settled.”

Rules. Of course there were rules. You’d probably not be allowed to leave your room without an escort or leave the hotel at all. And you could live with that. You could. Kirby was waiting for you. You’d keep your promise. “Got it. Thank you.”

The door beeped softly after you tapped the card against the lock. Like the rest of the hotel, the room was beautiful, leather couch, huge bed, a small kitchenette. The bathroom was a work of art in white and silver granite with sleek knobs and spouts. You didn’t even bother looking in the closet tucked beside the bed, too nervous to see if it was as big as your entire apartment across town. And it wasn’t as if you had clothes to put away anyway. That was probably something you would have to talk to Price about when he came in. The cityscape glittered on the other side of the giant window and you knocked your knuckle against it, welcoming yourself home. It sounded a little strange, like the window was extra thick. Whatever.

Your throat still hurt and you wandered back to the bathroom and pulled the arnica lotion from your pocket and wiped a bit across your skin. It was still discolored and tender—and you knew it would be for a while. Your eyes were still red. The bags under your eyes were prominent and tender, too. All and all, you looked rough. Kirby would ask questions but she’d probably be appeased with a simple “I was mugged, yeah they know who did it” explanation. It would be another lie, but it would be for the best.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a knock came at the door. You hustled over to it and then froze. They did say you were safe but… The knock came again, followed by, “‘s me.”

Simon.

You still looked through the peephole to make sure—which you immediately winced at because you’ve seen too many movies and television shows where someone gets shot right through those—and saw Simon’s hulking figure on the other side. He’d swapped his usual skull balaclava for a simple black surgical mask somewhere between the plane and lobby. The door opened and he stepped in, bringing the scent of gunsmoke and something woody and expensive. He hadn’t been wearing cologne on the plane but you weren’t about to complain. After telling you where you were headed and giving you your passport, you had fallen into a quiet conversation with him. He was funny. Charming, in a dry, dark humored sort of way. The way your heart squeezed in your chest whenever you looked at him was just a coincidence. Really!

“I want to show you something,” he said instead of a greeting. You were almost used to it now. And you trotted after him as he neared the bed and you definitely ignored how your eyes darted between the surely-high thread count sheets and the behemoth in front of you. After all of this was done, you needed to download an app or something. Let Kirby make the profile for you like she’s been dying to do for years so you could focus on that and not how you could see the hints of another scar slipping out from the edge of the mask near his mouth and curling up toward his ear or how blond hair poked out from under the shadow of his hood. You curled your hand into a fist to avoid touching it. You never thought he’d be blond.

Still, you watched his gloved hand slide across the paneled wall and then press down. There was a soft click and the wall slid open.

“A secret passageway? That’s so fucking cool.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think of something less childish to say.

“This is my room,” Simon said, turning to you. “If anything happens, you come to me. Yeah?”

“I thought this was supposed to be safe?”

He shrugged, which wasn’t exactly comforting. “So was the safehouse. But this is me trying to keep you safe.” He paused and you couldn’t find it in yourself to say anything. “You know I’ll come for you.” His heavy gaze didn’t move away from your face and you might have squirmed if it was anyone else but you felt yourself sagging.

He had come for you back at the other safehouse. He had kept you safe. And now he was right next door. Something warmed behind your ribs but you weren’t quite sure you wanted to try to name it. “I know.”

You couldn’t look away. Not yet. Not when the dark of his eyes was so inviting. So strangely comforting when everything else seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

“I promise not to make too much noise. I won’t keep you up by, like, blaring music or anything.”

A small smile pushed at her mouth and Simon once again couldn’t look away from the curve of her bottom lip. He wanted to trace it with the edge of his thumb. Wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked. A selfish, mean urge. He knew it. He was a selfish bastard.

A knock at the door saved him from acting on that urge and he watched her smile twitch, nervous, before she answered the door. Pride rumbled in his chest when she warily checked the peephole first. But it was only Price on the other side, right on schedule.

Simon listened to Price tell her the rules of the hotel. Don’t go anywhere without one of them. Do not leave the hotel grounds under any circumstance. Order room service if needed—it was on the CIA’s tab so cost was no object. She laughed at that.

But then she asked if she could order clothes and toiletries through room service, too. “I only have this,” she waved a hand at the clothes Simon had given her on the plane. “And while these are comfortable-”

“Your flat’s across town? Make me a list of what you need.”

And that was how Simon found himself and Kyle across the city and in the midrise building after following her instructions to buzz Missus Pirowski, an octogenarian resident on the ground floor who would let anyone in if they asked politely, to get in and then procuring the spare key she hid, taped to the upper edge of the door.

The apartment was nice. Probably expensive for this part of the city. And everything smelt like an expensive candle and something soft. The couch was worn but well taken care of and a half dozen blankets were tucked into a basket beneath the window. Everything was clean if not sparse.

And the more he looked, the more he realized it looked more like a staged house than a home. There was neutral, mass produced art on the walls. Everything was in shades of grey, white, black. The kitchen was organized neatly in glass containers, each filled three quarters of the way up. It wasn’t until he stepped into her bedroom that he saw any sort of life. There was a map pinned over a cork board with color coded pins all over the place. Green pins for places she’s been. Gold for places she wanted to go. Gold vastly outnumbered green and it made Simon sad in a strange way. And there were two and only two pictures on her bedside table, tucked behind a stack of books with bookmarks in each of them.

The first picture was small in Simon’s grasp. The gold frame was fragile, old. The picture behind the thin glass was aged, too, and looked like it had been folded in half several dozen times before being stuck in the frame. It was obviously her, somewhere around 8 and holding an infant in a careful hold on a couch.

The next was her, again, aged 16 or so. Her arm was thrown over the shoulders of a girl who was probably 8. Her smile was smaller but it still lit up her eyes. The smaller girl was beaming at the camera, ice cream in her hand dripping over her fingers. That must be Kirby. Behind them stood an older man, hands on each of the girls’ shoulders and a proud smile on his aging face. There was no resemblance between her and the man, but he and Kirby had a few similar features. Who was he?

The frame clacked as he set it down while Kyle stepped out of her bathroom, a bag of her toiletries in his hand. “Find everything?”

Kyle nodded. “It was color coded.”

Of course it was. Everything of hers in the apartment, anything she might consider valuable, was probably easily moved. Like she was ready to leave at a moment’s notice, which was odd because the lease agreement for her apartment had been renewed eight times according to Simon’s research. But Simon knew the same could be said of him and his flat in Manchester. Easily moved. Easily forgotten.

They turned to the closet and drawers next, referencing their list as they went. Her clothing was color coded, too. But most of it was black, white, or grey. Kyle took what she requested from her closet without much fanfare but Simon did pause, only a little, when her knickers were on his share of the list. (And he knew Gaz did it on purpose, even if the easy smile the other man gave him betrayed nothing. Cheeky.) They were neatly folded in the top drawer; bits of silk, lace, cotton that had his mouth going dry. Like he was a kid again. His thumb brushed against one of the tiny bows as his mind wandered. Did they cut into the side of her hip? Did she have a favorite pair? Did the lace feel good against her skin? He didn’t know the answers but they were all soft in the palm of his hand as he grabbed a handful and shoved them into one of the bags Kyle brought him from the closet.

He followed the rest of the list she’d given them diligently and then spotted a perfume bottle. She’d had a travel sized one of the same brand and scent at the safe house, too. This one must be her favorite if it being half empty with another tucked behind it was any indication. It wasn’t on her list, but if it would make her smile-

The thought crumpled before he could finish it. He tucked the sole pair of running shoes into the bag and saw Gaz had grabbed a pair of boots, too. He needed to get out of here. But he still snatched one of the photos off the nightstand before he left.

It was nearly orgasmic to be able to use your own body wash and lotion after a couple of weeks without it. What did this say about you? What would your therapist say about it? What were the confidentiality parameters when it came to this? Surely you couldn’t just tell Kirby and there were ethics guidelines with therapists, right?

Whatever. You knew you weren’t going back to therapy.

You toweled off, trying hard not to look too long at your discolored throat and monster eyes. Kirby was going to freak out. You needed to practice your speech about getting mugged and telling her not to worry. You didn’t lie to your sister. She knew that and it had caused some friction a few years ago. So, maybe she’d just believe you. She needed to because there was no way you could or would explain the shit show that your life had become.

You pulled the second bag Gaz had dropped off in your room before your shower and your heart hiccuped when you spotted the picture of you and Kirby sitting on top. You’d once kept this one in your tiny wallet after you’d graduated from high school, folded it to make sure it wouldn’t slip out. A prized possession. If it came down to it, your apartment was on fire and you could only save two things? You’d save the pictures with your sister.

Any warm and fuzzy thoughts evaporated when you noticed they’d been placed atop a neat stack of your underwear. You knew it was going to be packed—you had asked for them to be. But it still felt a little strange knowing Gaz had packed them so carefully. You needed to make him another breakfast for being so kind to you. Maybe you could use the hotel’s kitchen if you asked nicely. The manager—the woman who’d checked everyone in, you learned—had been nice when she’d given you a razor when you’d forgotten to ask Gaz to bring you one from your apartment. You definitely owed him after you spotted your favorite perfume carefully packed in between your clothes, too. You hadn’t asked for it, not wanting to be too demanding.

At least it wasn’t Simon. And you knew it was childish for you to think about a man touching your underwear when he was just doing his job. And it didn’t matter anyway because Gaz did it!

Really. What was wrong with you?

All of this would be over, hopefully soon, and you would probably never see any of these people again. So, you grabbed your favorite pair, the ones with the soft cotton lace and tiny bow, and tried to press the thought of Simon and his dark eyes (and your underwear) out of your mind.

The tiny cellphone you’d been given was sitting on the bedside table. It only had Kirby’s number and Price said it was a secure line, whatever that meant, and you shouldn’t even attempt to call anyone aside from your sister. Not a problem. You didn’t really have anyone to call. And it was…perfect, to be able to just call your sister. She was spending the last few days of her pregnancy out of town at a spa retreat; something about seaweed wraps, Swedish massages, and clay face masks being part of her birthing plan. Everything seemed to be running on her schedule, no matter how loose it was.

She’d giggled throughout your short conversation. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while! Thought you weren’t going to make it—I shouldn’t’ve doubted you.”

It was like a shot of pure sunlight right to your veins.

You were going to make it. You’d keep your promise.

That happy thought carried you through the rest of the day, even as Gaz easily beat you at every single card game he tried to teach you and then stole half your fries from your dinner with another megawatt smile. Soap called dibs on trying to teach you a traditional Scottish dance tomorrow with a grin you knew meant trouble.

Price was off somewhere else and, while you didn’t know him very well, you had a feeling it had something to do with the pretty hotel manager downstairs.

Simon had been in his room and Gaz and Soap had both said he was following up on a lead from Laswell. And you promptly ignored the whispered thought that he was avoiding you. He hadn’t seemed the type to be easily annoyed but maybe your long-winded conversation on the plane had worn down his social battery and he just needed a break. Yeah. Sure.

After another layer of cream on your neck, you settled into the ridiculously soft bed and fell asleep, hoping to truly feel rested by the time you woke up in the morning.

The tunnel was dark. Strip lights across the tracks cast darker shadows across the bombs that littered the ground. There were so many of them. Everywhere you looked, there was another, each with curled wires and red numbers that counted down the seconds left in your pitiful existence.

But this was okay. You were alone. No one else would be hurt.

Movement to the right caught your eye and a scream stalled in your throat as your sister leapt onto one of the bombs, landing on the wires without a sound.

“Kirby!” but the scream you could feel building in your throat came out as a whisper. She couldn’t hear you.

Kirby laughed and waved, jumping from one bomb to another with her usual grace and poise. She even spun on one, that same smile on her face.

You went left, she went right.

There were too many barrels between you now. Too many bombs. You’d never catch up to her. You could hear her laughing but when she opened her mouth again to say something to you, the first lines of a Russian lullaby spilled out instead, not matching at all with how her lips were moving.

Bayu Bayushki Bayu…

One by one, the bombs started to go off in slow motion. Fire and scraps of metal inched their way into the air as Kirby continued to dance away, still singing the Russian lullaby. She turned away from you and spun, dress fluttering.

And then she jumped right onto the next bomb just as it exploded.

“NO!” The scream tore its way out of your already mangled throat as you snapped to sitting up in your sweat-soaked sheets. Your pillows flopped uselessly to the ground behind you. A shaking hand pressed to your forehead. “Just a dream,” you muttered. “It’s just a dream.” But the image of Kirby dancing into the explosion had been seared into the backs of your eyes.

Movement out of the corner of your eye nearly had you screaming again but it stalled in your throat when you realized you recognized the enormous looming shadow. A light from a single lamp behind Simon made him look even larger than he already was, the bulk of his hoodie still wrapped around him and his surgical mask looped over his nose and mouth.

“Is that a gun?” you asked, already knowing the answer. And maybe you should’ve cared more at the moment about him charging in with a weapon but you couldn’t. Not now. Not when the low light caught his dark eyes and the barest hints of his blond hair.

“‘eard you screaming.”

“Sorry.” What else could you say? The embarrassment started to tug at the back of your mind—you’d woken him up in the middle of the night—but the nightmare persisted. It was strangely comforting to know he’d come so quickly anyway. Just like he did at the safehouse.

He walked further into your room, the door still slightly open behind him. “Nothing to be sorry about. Need something?”

You dropped your hands and looked at him, feeling the sweat cool on your skin. “N-no, I’m fine. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Was already awake.” He didn’t move. Not for a stretched moment before he holstered the (giant) handgun.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” The question tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it. How fucking rude and ridiculous could you be? And so, instead of forcing him to answer, you just kept talking. “I used to get them all the time. My therapist said something about trauma or whatever. But I haven’t had one like this in years. I was doing good. I used to be so good. Almost normal.” Another stuttering breath slithered out of you. You weren’t even sure what you were saying or why you were saying it. “Am I just putting her in danger by going to see her? She’d never forgive me if I didn’t go but what if something happened to her because of me? She’s having a baby. Her baby’s going to need her. Kirby’ll be a good mom. Even if we both had crap examples, she is going to be a good one.” You were definitely rambling now. But the past handful of weeks and everything fucking else that had happened was starting to spill out like a shaken up bottle of pop.

You sucked in a handful more unsteady breaths, your tattered throat still protesting. And the embarrassment started to burn, too.

“Sorry. I guess I broke my promise of being a good neighbor.”

Simon was still an immovable mass in the shadow of the doorway but then he stepped closer and slowly, slowly lowered himself onto the edge of your bed. The warmth of him bled across the rumpled blankets but the sharp claws of your embarrassment continued to tighten around your lungs.

“You don’t have to stay.”

And Simon stood again.

“But you can if you want!” You hurriedly added.

He slowly sat back down and you buried your face in your hands with a groan. This was…this was not how you thought tonight would go. But, God, he was being kind. Kind to you again.

“I’m sorry.” Your lungs ached and it felt like you’d tried to line your esophagus with fine grain sandpaper.

“‘s fine.” He paused for another moment and you were too nervous to look up to see if he was staring at you. “Promise.”

And then, to your horror and surprise, his hand landed on your shoulder. It just stayed there, unmoving, and you froze, scared that if you moved too fast, he’d leave…like a feral cat or something. But you slowly lifted your head to see his heavy-lidded gaze anchored on you. And you weren’t sure what compelled you forward—god knows you hadn’t wanted any sort of physical affection since you were a child—but you moved, pressing your hand over his on your shoulder. Soon, your head lolled to the side, smushing your cheek against your tangled fingers.

Simon’s grip tightened just a fraction. Small, firm circles soon pressed against your shoulder a moment later, pulling a stuttered breath from your aching throat. He was warm. Solid. Kind and quiet. And you should not be having these thoughts. It was easier, smarter, to be in the shadows of this all. Friends had been few and far between for you for most of your life. It was easier to keep people away.

It was what you should do with Simon. You knew that was the smarter choice.

But you didn’t move.

Didn’t move until he shifted and his other hand carefully smoothed over your upturned cheek. Your heart hammered against the cage of your ribs but you couldn’t recall a time when you’d felt calmer. His thumb arced across the ridge of your cheekbone as your eyes shut again.

And maybe you could have said something, or maybe he was going to—but your phone chirped. And then chirped again. And again.

Simon’s hands slipped away and you stood, haphazardly running around the bed to grab your tiny phone from where you’d left it atop the opposite nightstand. You quickly read the texts before turning to Simon, almost unsurpised to see him standing beside you. “Kirby’s having the baby.”

And then you were off, shuffled into the back of the SUV and careening across Chicago. And you pointedly ignored Soap’s gaze when he tried to look at you in the rearview mirror. No, you would not explain why Simon had come out of your room with you. Thankyouverymuch.

The hospital was quiet this time of night, or at least the entrance you used was, far away from the emergency room intake. But that only meant you caught the eye of the nurses behind the desk much easier. Kirby had texted you her room number and you just needed to-

“Excuse me, you can’t just walk in here. You need a visitor’s pass.”

You were absolutely not going to get one of those—with your luck, Kirby would already be crowning by now and if you stopped you’d miss everything—but Price, Gaz, and Soap all beelined toward the desk and effectively blocked you (but not Simon) from the nurse’s stare and Simon stood in front of you as you entered the elevator. It took you a moment to realize he was blocking you from being seen by the tiny camera in the corner. His face was still mostly covered and Gaz had made sure your ball cap was firmly on your head before you even left the hotel. They were protecting you. Again.

The elevator opened with a soft ding and you hurried down the hall, following the arrows leading toward labor and delivery. You pressed the button at the door, saying your name and Kirby’s and it thankfully opened without much fanfare. You counted the rooms until you found Kirby’s and let yourself in, a small bit of tension finally falling from your spine.

Kirby was radiant. She always was, to be honest. Even during the standard awkward tween years, she’d been beautiful. The little hospital-issued gown did little to detract from it—she also had a full face of glamorous makeup on, her hair curled and magazine worthy. Her bright eyes widened as she looked at you.

“You look like you’ve been-”

“I was mugged,” you said quickly, waving a hand. “Guy’ll get caught eventually. I’ll be fine.”

Kirby’s eyes narrowed and you could feel her gaze rove over your neck before meandering up to your discolored eyes. You could see her filing it all away and then, in the next blink, it was settled. “Is that why you have that ridiculously long number now?”

“Yeah,” you said, thankful she’d given you a way to explain away a few things. “My phone’s gone. And this number is just temporary anyway. Everyone thinks I’ll get some of my stuff back soon anyway.”

Kirby nodded and then her eyebrow twitched before her hand pressed over her stomach. “I’m glad you’re here. Means a lot to me.”

You reached out and swept your sister into a hug that she quickly reciprocated as best she could from the hospital bed. It was a tight embrace, the points of her fingers lining your vertebrae before smoothing up to your shoulder blades. She’d always hugged you this way, something she’d come out of the womb doing. You’d always tried to respond in kind, wordlessly telling her that she meant the world to you.

As you pulled back, you swept a hand across her forehead, ignoring the sweat now on your palm. “What do you need from me?”

“I would kill for a double cheeseburger after all this. Right now I’m only allowed to have ice chips, which seems a little cruel.”

“I’ll get you that double cheeseburger,” she said. Of course she did. And Simon had no doubt that she would. But still, he pulled out his phone and texted Johnny, telling him to find a burger place that was open.

It was interesting to see her actually interact with Kirby. She called her a sister, but this seemed more like a fretting, doting parent. Even from his “hiding” spot just outside the door, he felt like he was intruding.

A doctor stared at him as he walked by. Or tried to. Simon crossed his arms and the doctor hurried his steps a little. Security here was a joke. But for now, things were okay and he turned just enough to see into the room again.

“I’m trying really hard to be zen.” Sweat dotted Kirby’s hairline and the slightest wobble of her bottom lip betrayed her struggle. But if it were anyone else, Simon thought she might actually look like she was “zen.”

She reached out toward Kirby and held her hand. “Well, if you want to squeeze my hand as hard as you can instead of screaming, you have my permission to break my fingers.”

Kirby took her sister’s hand and kissed her knuckles before patting the back of her hand. “You look rough enough. I’ll try not to break anything.”

The attempt at zen lasted longer than Simon anticipated. A flurry of nurses had come in and out and yelled about dilation and then the command to “push, push, push” came quickly. Very quickly. A nurse or two had remarked about how fast the labor was going. Kirby groaned and huffed. But no screaming. Simon could respect that.

But above it all, he heard her. “Breathe with me. You got this.”

Kirby let out two short breaths.

“She’s nearly here. Come on, Kirbs. You can do it.”

And then there was a shrill cry. A baby. Something long dormant cracked in the recesses of Simon’s chest. And he looked back. It was quiet in the room for a little as the baby was placed against Kirby’s chest. The baby squirmed a little when Kirby started to cry, zen broken.

“You did so great,” she whispered. “She’s beautiful. Healthy. And she’s got a great set of lungs, just like her mom.”

Kirby laughed and pressed a series of short, careful kisses against the baby’s head. The quiet continued, all of them content for a moment. “Want to hold her?” Kirby asked, already holding the baby out to her.

She paused, just for a moment, before carefully taking the small bundle into her arms. Her face crumpled and he watched tears quickly start to slide down her cheeks. “Hi, honey. I’m your aunt. I already love you so much.” She leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss against the baby’s cheek.

The crack in his chest widened.

He listened to her coo over the baby and her sister, whispered, happy words as the medical team continued to come in and out. He didn’t move. Not when he could see her smile like that.

Simon could feel Johnny staring at him before he even slowed to a stop. The scent of the requested cheeseburger wafted up from a greasy bag in his hand. “How’s our girl doing?”

Simon almost smiled. Our girl. He liked it. His girl.

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Your comments really keep me motivated and I love reading all of them. Please let me know what you think! xx

[lostpiewrites]

Hello!! Can I request a reader to unexpectedly kiss their partner (Michael, Rin, Reo and Sae) I mean they are doing anything and the reader feels they have to kiss them.

Thank you🫶

a/n : HIIIIIIIIII. this is so me coded , i loved this request. Here we goo... art credits for @/korethus.

NOTICEBOARD : Due to my exams , i will unfortunately not be able to post until 10th May 2025. After i come back , i will work on the remaining requests. Thank u for understanding. 🩷🩵

A BIIIGGG SMOOCH 💋

Ft : Michael Kaiser , Itoshi Rin , Itoshi Sae , Mikage Reo.

Michael Kaiser

You were laying down with your bf , cuddling and in your own seperate worlds. You were reading a manga and he was just scrolling , blanket over you , you laying on top of his chest etc... everything added up to a perfect cuddle session.

When you finish your book , you close it and rub your eyes. It has been a long period of focusing for them so you had to rest them before they bleed to blindness. You looked up to see your boyfriend unbotheredly continuing to scroll , while mindlessly caressing your back in the same time.

You then REALLY looked at him. His awfully-cut-but-still-suits-him-somehow hairstyle ; his eyes dazed and not really paying attention to his phone as if he was bored out of his mind , his muscles flexing unintentionally due to his positioning , his lips in an adorable half-pout and his hair falling beautifully over his forehead/eyes. He looked like he belonged to a fashion magazine rn.

So you did what you knew best. You kissed him on the lips without any warning , any preparation , nothing... Then pulled back and looked at him with a face that said "i know what i did , i am not gonna apologize and i am proud. Cope with it."

He locked his phone and turned his attention to you when he felt you getting closer to him. He didn't even have time to get surprised before he felt your lips crashing onto his. He then could barely reacted before you pulled away and got comfortable over his chest again. He chuckled and shook his head in amused disapproval.

"You're such a stupid dork but that's why i love you i guess..."

Itoshi Rin

You were mindlessly strolling around your shared house with your bf , trying to do all the chores and have time for yourself to sit down and rest.

As for him , he came from his soccer practice about 30 minutes ago and he was currently showering.

After your body gave up on accompanying your desires to push through all the chores , you technically collapsed onto the couch. You decided to wait for your bf to get out of the shower so you could eat dinner with him before going on with the remaining tasks.

After about 5 mins at max , he came out. He didn't really put any effort to his looks. He had sweatpants only , no shirt on , hair half damp half already dried on it's own due to the summer heat. It was unfair how effortlessly handsome he looked.

You pouted and gave a dreamy sigh out. He looks so kissable rn... That idea quickly took root in your mind. Then before you knew it , you were walking your way towards him. You placed a quick kiss to his lips and murmured a soft "you look handsome" then sashayed your way to the kitchen to prepare the dinner. Chill , unbothered...

He stood there dumbfounded. His voice slightly cracking in blushing. "Tf was that for ?". In his book , this meant "i liked it , do it again some time." You knew it and you giggled proudly , while he was having a cardiac arrest on the spot.

Itoshi Sae

You two sat down at his workroom. He was reading some professionals' media reports about his career and also some interview requests. As for you , you were just watching him , bringing him fruits or snacks etc.

After about a few hours of complete silence , you were bored out of your mind. You knew not to interfere with him when he is working , it never ended well so far. It wasn't violent but he didn't let you leave him after you distracted him and practically forced you into full-blown make-out sessions. But you were getting tired of the neverending silence and silly little pranks were branching their way in your mind.

You planned everything silently. You would just give him a quick kiss that would for sure distract him. If he were to get angry , you would play the innocent and say sth like you just wanted to give him emotional support. That's what you have thought , but to your surprise none of it would happen...

You walked your way over to him , gently lifted his chin up and gave him a quick kiss with a sinister smile that said "ik what i did bitch". After that you were about to walk away , but you felt a strong grip at your wrist. Before you knew it you were yanked back and sat on top of his lap. He looked at you disappointedly.

"You are giving me a kiss and without giving me a chance to return it , you are walking away. Where is your manners sweetie ?"

You knew you were there for at least 3 hours after that.

Mikage Reo

You had nothing to do today. No friend outings , no tasks , no house chores , no dates. Simply nothing. So what did you do ? Scroll in tiktok. That was the best way to kill time right ? WRONG.

You accidentally came across that trend where parents stick a camera inside their toddler's hat and just watch them pitter-patter around. The girl there had so chubby cheeks and so cute babbling that you screamed out on top of your lungs.

"SHE'S SO CUTE IT'S UNFAIIIIRRRR"

Your poor boyfriend came from another room to check on you. He was gaming , with a headphone and music blasting in his ears ; but he still heard your scream. That's how loud it was.

When you saw him , you dashed and threw yourself onto him. Kissing him all over his face , spesifically on his lips , biting his cheeks with muffled screams.No amount of time he had spent with you prepared him for this disaster.

"Babe , sweetie , y/n... What are you doing ? If you are hungry , i can order sth for you. " "Shut up , i saw a toddler on the internet now i am taking my cuteness agression fever out. Are we too young to have babies ? "

He stood there dumbfounded , shaking his head in a way that meant "how tf did i get myself into this ?". But he didn't make a move to push you either. You were a koala maybe , but his koala at least. And he was hopelessly in love...

[august-anon]

Could we please have a fic

Where Tim is still adjusting to being a lil bro and he's still a bit nervous around Jason because the RH incident and Jason is fully aware that his lil bro is scared of him, and then Dick, (very purposefully) tells Jason that Tim is ticklish. Jason decides to use this information.

editing? who's she? (aka i was too lazy to edit a 5.5K tickle fic i just wanted to post it jksdhsdjfh)

also, seeing as my life is consumed by DC/esp the Batfam right now i was compelled to actually do my research for this fic and i went and found teen titans volume 3 #29 and looked through their fight. and dont get me wrong i love a good titans tower fic, tim drake is The whumpable character ever, but it is SO FUNNY to me the way fandom has apparently blown this so out of proportion because skimming that fight between the two it was literally like. the vigilante equivalent of squaring up behind the Waffle House at 3am while Jason is wearing a Party City Robin outfit sdjfhdsfj it was so unserious, he was definitely a theater kid lol, Tim wasn't even busted up that bad the worst he had was a bloody nose and maybe a concussion from the final blow lol

so i leaned more into the canon energy of it (snarky Tim who held his own decently well) because i think the whole fanon "he-almost-murdered-me-and-i'm-traumatized-and-terrified" energy leans into a fear dynamic that i am not necessarily comfortable exploring in a fluffy tickle fic? so i hope that's alright and that you still enjoy this fic even though i didnt full lean into that "scared of jason" energy i think you were looking for!

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Brothers Forged in Laughter

Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity -- though i do briefly reference Teen Titans volume 3 #29)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Tim & Ler!Jason (plus a very brief Ler!Dick)

Word Count: 5623 words

Summary: Tim wasn’t Jason's little brother, not really. Just because they got taken in by the same rich asshole did not mean they were related. But, well, the kid was kind of asking for it at this point. Maybe getting tickled to tears on the training mats by your asshole predecessor would become a Robin right-of-passage.

[ao3 link]

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Developing an unspoken sort of truce with the Bats had not been on Jason’s to-do list when he returned to Gotham, especially after his little trip to Titan’s Tower or the explosive confrontation between him, Bruce, and the Joker. Really, Jason blamed Dick. He was like a leech, it was impossible to shake him once he got his teeth sunk in.

Still, it had its benefits. He didn’t have to worry about getting arrested and thrown in Arkham anymore, for one. Not to mention, the Bats left Crime Alley well alone now (bar an Arkham breakout), leaving the neighborhood to Jason’s expertise. But most of all: access to the Batcave.

Jason didn’t necessarily enjoy his visits to the Cave, but there were things that Bruce’s money could buy that Jason had difficulty getting his hands on. For instance, the state-of-the-art lab that was hooked up to the Batcomputer and all its insane processing speed. 

With Batman publicly off on a JL mission and no risk of running into Bruce, Jason didn’t hesitate breaking into the Batcave (was it really breaking in if they never deactivated Jason’s codes in the first place? Jason liked to think so) to study a concoction from his latest Scarecrow copy-cat that thought Crime Alley made a great testing ground. It was just his luck that the little replacement Robin happened to be down in the Cave at the same time, drowning in an oversized hoodie and staring down one of the Batcomputer’s monitors with bloodshot eyes. One of his arms was in a sling, but Jason didn’t keep track of the Bats’ cases enough to know what had caused the injury. He was more wilted than the oregano plant Jason had forgotten at one of his lesser-used safehouses. And, more importantly, he was in Jason’s way.

“Pretty sure little birdies are meant to be resting when their wings get clipped,” Jason called out as he walked up the steps toward the Batcomputer.

The line of Tim’s shoulders went taught as his head snapped around to glare at Jason. “I’m pretty sure zombie crime lords are supposed to stick to Crime Alley.”

Jason held up his sample of knock-off toxin, shaking the liquid inside. “Wouldn’t exactly be here if I didn’t have to.”

Tim’s lips pressed into a thin line as he huffed a breath out through his nose. “Fine.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he turned toward the mass spectrometer, fumbling a bit to set it up properly. It’d been a while since he’d had to use one, and the one in the Cave was a lot newer than the one he’d used as Robin. It didn’t help that the back of his neck burned from the eyes boring into it.

“Don’t need a babysitter, y’know.”

“Like I’m leaving you in the Cave unsupervised.”

Jason scoffed. “What am I gonna do, poison your juice boxes?” The machine finally started running rounds of analysis, so Jason spun around to lean against it, locking his eyes onto Tim. And the stack of soda cans next to him. “Or your Zesti, apparently. Alfred lets you drink all that shit?”

Tim stayed silent, narrowing his eyes.

Jason lit up. “He doesn’t, does he?” He laughed, eyeing the pile of empty cans again. “Maybe we should call him down right now, what do you say?”

Jason started towards Tim and the Batcomputer, only meaning to ruffle his hair, maybe tease him a bit more about his serious sugar addiction, but he came up short as Tim slipped a hand against the underside of the Batcomputer’s desk, fingers subtly searching. Jason knew there was a panic button under there, even though he’d never had to use it during his time as Robin. It would send alerts to Alfred, to Dick, to every device of Bruce’s – hell, it might even send alerts to Clark or Diana at this point. Jason really didn’t need Superman busting in with a disgruntled Batman in his arms while he was trying to get work done.

So he backed off, raising his hands in mocking surrender as he leaned back against the machinery behind him, playing it off with a sarcastic, “Damn then, Boy Wonder, keep your secrets.”

The rest of Jason’s visit to the Cave was spent in tense silence, only broken in brief intervals to discuss the specifics of Jason’s case and the results of the toxin analysis. Turns out it was developed from an older strain of Crane’s – the most current fear toxin antidote could wipe it out no problem.

It didn’t leave him as satisfied as it should have, feeling all off-kilter as he mounted his motorcycle and started his drive back to Crime Alley. He couldn’t shake the hard look in Tim’s eyes as his fingers searched the bottom of the desk. It was fucking infuriating. What should he care if the newest little Robin was scared of him, after all? He and the Bats weren’t a team, and Robin certainly wasn’t his responsibility.

Maybe Jason had inhaled a little of the toxin when running the analysis. That was all.

*     *     *

Scared wasn’t really the right word, Jason realized over time. Because Tim was very obviously not afraid of him. He would poke and prod at Jason, even outright mock him sometimes. His glares were fierce and intense, his tone short and snappy. At times, he almost seemed to be seeking out a fight, like he wanted a rematch, to prove the words he said back at Titan’s Tower.

“Do you think you’re that good now? Do you really, Tim?”

“Yes.”

Wary seemed more accurate. He wasn’t frightened of Jason, but he was mostly certainly on edge. Even more so when Jason started visiting the Manor itself, finally giving in to Alfred and Dick’s invitations (though he still staunchly refused the invitations for family dinners – no way in hell he was being civil with Bruce for that long.). Tim would eye Jason like one would a particularly reactive dog – cautious and ready to act, but without any outright fear or anxiety.

And Jason… he could live with that. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not like they were family or anything. Just because Bruce took in the kid didn’t make them brothers – and it wasn’t like Bruce was his father anymore, anyway. The itch that grew under Jason’s skin when Tim would look at him like that was purely from having eyes on him, that was all. And he didn’t feel guilty for making the kid feel like that, thank you very much – that lingering weight in his chest was just a perfectly normal reaction to Dick’s puppy-dog eyes every time he and Tim sniped at each other. 

Seriously. No grown man should be able to make that expression. It was unnatural. 

He was so used to Tim’s cold shoulders that when he arrived at the Cave one afternoon, he almost fell off his motorcycle at the bright, cackling laugh that echoed across the stone once he cut his engine. It was boyish, childish, happy – all the things Robin should be. For a moment, it made old bitterness crawl up the back of his throat like bile, but he just as quickly swallowed it back down. He’d already taken out enough on the kid.

The laughter grew louder as he climbed the stairs up to the Batcave’s main platform, growing squeakier or snortier or gigglier in various intervals. By the time he made it up the stairs, Jason had a pretty good idea of what was happening. Turning away from the Batcomputer and towards the training mats easily confirmed it.

Because there was the Boy Wonder, in all his red-faced glory, cackling up a storm as Dick tickled the absolute shit out of him. 

At least Dick had someone besides Jason to take all that tickle-monster energy out on, now.

Dick’s head shot up as Jason’s boot scuffed across the stone, and he shot Jason a grin. “Hey, Little Wing!” Tim’s laughter lightened, growing more giggly. Probably Dick lightening up his attack in case he wanted to participate in the conversation. “What brings you here?”

“Came by to hack into the computer.” Jason jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Got some CCTV to look into, and the setup is better here than in any of my safehouses.”

Dick nodded, and Tim’s laughter jumped in pitch again.

“Jesus,” Jason said. “You trying to kill the kid?”

Dick laughed himself and finally let up, leaving Tim to roll onto his side and catch his breath. 

“Nah – but I think I might’ve finally found someone more ticklish than you, Jay.” He gave Jason a meaningful look, winking when he was sure Tim wasn’t looking.

Jason scoffed. He would not be filing that information away for later, thank you very much, because Tim was not his baby brother. “Yeah, whatever. I grew out of that – Lazarus Pits and all.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, a disarming smile on his lips. “Oh, really? That’s too bad. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, then, if I–”

Jason swiftly backed away from the mats. “Yeah, no. I’m busy – came here to work and all. Try to keep it down, will you?” He managed to catch Tim’s eye for a second. “Try his thighs,” he advised. “Or just under his ribs. Makes for great revenge.”

“Wha– Jason!”

Jason turned his back on them, not wanting to unpack the narrow-eyed look Tim gave him. Not even moments later he heard Dick yelp.

“Oh, no you don’t – you’ll regret that!”

And the Cave was quickly filled with laughter once more, two sets of it this time. Not exactly the quiet environment Jason had hoped for when he came by to work, but he would deal. The Batcomputer had high-quality headphones for a reason.

And, privately, Jason thought those two could use more opportunities to smile.

*     *     *

Over time, the uneasy truce settled into something more comfortable. There were times it still chafed, itching at Jason’s skin until he felt he needed to claw it off, but things were rarely so tense anymore that Jason expected to be cut off like a necrotic limb. Hood still handled Crime Alley, the Bats tackled the rest of Gotham, and sometimes, if the cards fell right, they were able to work cases together without any casualties.

Cases like this new up-and-coming gang. They’d spread outside of the Alley, maneuvering in areas where Hood didn’t have as much reach or authority, but they were still spreading through his own territory like slow-acting poison. There was only so much he could do, and so when Dick offered the Bats up to help, Jason agreed with only minimal bitching. 

Which led him to this warehouse rooftop, going on three hours crouched uncomfortably next to Robin, the irritation of a failed stakeout grating against his ribs and skull. The established gang these newbies were trying to ally with hadn’t even shown, and even the newbies were starting to pack up shop, wanting to get back to base before dawn broke. The newest little Robin, however, didn’t seem to be getting the memo that this was a bust.

“Kid,” Hood all but growled. “Let’s go, there’s nothing more for us here.”

Robin scoffed, still laying on his stomach and not bothering to drop the binoculars to have a conversation with Hood. “Something might still happen. I’m not going to drop this just because you’re getting impatient.”

A flash of irritation bubbled up in Hood’s chest, frustration coiling hot in his stomach. The gang was leaving, Hood was starving, his knees ached from crouching on this roof all night, and he really should’ve told Dick no when Robin was offered up to help with the stakeout. But of course, the Bat himself was too busy with some last-minute JL business, and Nightwing had his own problems in Bludhaven to deal with. The worst part was that Robin was right, something could still happen, but Hood sincerely doubted it. They hadn’t gotten any new or relevant info in the past two hours, and Hood was ready to stuff his face with some greasy fast food and pass out for the next six hours.

And so as the newbies finished loading up their vehicles and driving off, Hood reached over to snatch the binoculars from Robin. Somehow, even with his face buried behind the plastic, he knew Hood was coming and shifted out of the way, thrusting a foot into Hood’s chest to try and hold him back. Hood’s height was an advantage here, but Robin still refused to let go of the binoculars, staring after the newbies’ vehicles as if they held the answers to the universe. 

And Hood, overtired and ready to be out of all this goddamned armor and in bed, let his instincts take over again. He jabbed one hand up under Robin’s arm, poking and prodding at the softer spot in the armor designed for mobility. Robin made an awkward squawking sound, his arm shooting down to protect the vulnerable spot and cutting the grip he had on the binoculars by half. Hood easily wrenched them from his hand after that, tucking them into an inner pocket in his leather jacket.

“Come on,” Hood said, standing and brushing himself off like nothing happened. “Batburger, I’m buying.”

Robin scowled at him, eyes unreadable behind the white-out lenses of the domino, and slowly rose to his feet. “Fine. But I want Jokerized fries, and I don’t care how you feel about it.”

*     *     *

Jason had to wonder if the kid ever slept. Every time he came by the Cave, Tim was there too – training, running samples, working cases on the Batcomputer – no matter what absurd hour he arrived. Jason let out a loud, long, obnoxious sigh as he cleared the stairs to the main platform of the Batcave, and Tim immediately whipped around and glared at him over the back of the desk chair.

“Can I help you?” Tim snapped.

“I need the computer.” Jason kicked the base of the desk chair as he approached, propelling it several inches to the left. 

Tim’s scowl deepened, and he rolled the chair back into position. “Well you can wait. I’m busy with a case.”

Instead of arguing further, Jason opted for the quickest route of success. He grabbed the back of the desk chair, spun it around so Tim was no longer facing the desk, and unceremoniously dumped him out of the seat. Tim squawked as he stumbled out of the chair, but regained his footing quickly and immediately trying to bolt back into the seat. Jason smirked and yanked it away, sending it rolling a few feet behind him.

“Whoops.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Real mature.”

Jason laid a hand over his heart and cocked his head to the side. “Ouch. You wound me. Truly.”

Tim glared at him, but his eyes flicked towards the desk chair behind Jason. They burst into motion at the same time – Tim lunging towards the chair, and Jason lunging towards Tim. After a brief tussle, Jason yanked Tim into a headlock, and for a brief second the two of them went eerily still. Jason loosened his grip, making the hold easy to break, but didn’t let go. Tim stayed frozen for a moment longer before tilting his head up, giving Jason a challenging look.

Jason’s mind warred with itself for a few moments. Not my little brother, one side of his brain said. Isn’t he, though? another replied. He had, unfortunately, filed away that information Dick had given him, as much as he tried to ignore it. And, well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? He didn’t think he’d even given Tim back his Bat-noculars.

A moment passed, and Jason suddenly lunged, latching his free hand onto Tim’s side and squeezing away. Tim jerked in his grip, squealing as a smile forced its way onto his face. One hand went towards prying Jason’s off his side, while the other came and clutched at the forearm around his throat for stability. Jason grinned and allowed the hand to crawl up Tim’s side, carefully keeping his headlock loose so that Tim wouldn’t really feel trapped. The second Jason’s fingers touched his ribs and a real laugh jumped out from Tim’s throat, he was out of Jason’s grip in seconds. Tim stood across from him, giving him another one of those uncomfortably calculating looks, though the blush rushing to his cheeks diminished it slightly.

“Fine,” Tim said eventually. “I should head up and get a snack anyways.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. 

“But I’m coming back down in two hours, and I will be getting back to my case. Whether you’re done on the computer or not.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, sure thing, Timberly. Whatever you say.”

*     *     *

Jason was at the Manor for family dinner.

His skin itched at the thought as he sped into the Cave on his motorcycle – he never entered through the Manor proper, not in all these months, something about that just made it too real, too raw – and threw his riding gear off. Bruce was going to be there – not Batman, Bruce, and he hadn’t really interacted with the man outside the mask since he came back – but so were Dick and Alfred. And so was Tim.

Bit by bit, the kid had been relaxing around him. They worked cases together (and with Nightwing) when Hood needed a Bat, or when the birds needed his help instead. He didn’t tense whenever Jason came through the Cave anymore, didn’t eye Jason with suspicion when they crossed paths on patrol. He still stared a lot, but it’s not like Jason could blame him. He had attacked the kid, and even if he didn’t leave him with more than a concussion and some bruises (and Jason with a grudging sense of respect for the brat, as he walked away with his own array of bruising and a busted nose), the kid was well within his rights to keep his eyes on Jason’s movements.

But still, the progress they had made was, well, nice.

Speak of the devil — the Cave wasn’t empty. Tim was in the training area, dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, running his bo staff drills with a single-minded focus that could rival even Bruce. Jason almost would’ve thought that Tim didn’t realize he was there, but Tim’s eyes flicked his direction as he approached the edge of the training mats. Tim ran through the move he was doing a few more times, making minute posture changes each time until his form was perfect, before dropping out of his stance and facing Jason.

“Not bad,” Jason said.

Tim ticked up an eyebrow. “Thanks.” His gaze trailed over to the stairs. “Alfred’s still making dinner, and Bruce is up there brooding and fussing over everything until it’s perfect. You probably wanna stay down here until the food’s ready.”

The skin around Jason’s eyes tightened as he suppressed a wince. “Yeah, thanks. Where’s Golden Boy?”

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched up. “He got saddled with ‘distract Bruce’ duty.”

Jason matched Tim’s half-smile. They lapsed into an awkward silence. Jason shoved his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to fidget. Tim stared.

“Let’s spar,” Tim said suddenly, turning on his heel to set aside his bo staff.

Jason stared at him, incredulous. “What?”

“Spar. You and me.”

“Are you sure about that, kid?”

Tim shot him one of those calculating looks over his shoulder. “Do you have anything better to do?”

Jason pursed his lips. “No.”

“Then let’s spar.”

Palms sweating, Jason kicked off his boots, shucked his leather jacket, and set aside the weapons he’d hidden on his person. He set himself up opposite of Tim, lowering his body into a fighting stance.

“Ready?” Tim asked.

“Yup.”

The word was barely out of Jason’s mouth before Tim lunged, immediately going in for a grapple. Jason almost laughed — he far outclassed the little Robin in both weight and strength — and quickly sent the kid sprawling to the mats before backing away. Tim was scowling when he stood up.

“Don’t go easy on me.”

“Don’t worry, Boy Wonder. I’m just getting warmed up.”

Tim lunged first again, feinting left before trying to circle around to Jason’s back on the right. Jason whipped around and blocked the incoming blows, jabs that would’ve left his arms numb and tingling for hours had they landed. On one block, he snagged Tim’s wrist and used it to twirl him halfway around. He shoved Tim forward, harder than he meant to, and let him stumble a few feet as he retreated again.

The spar went on like this for a while, Tim attacking and Jason blocking and retreating. Tim’s scowl got deeper and deeper, and the careful control he usually held in his movements started slipping more and more. After the tenth time Jason knocked Tim’s attack away and retreated, Tim finally snapped.

“Stop babying me! I can take it!”

“Tim—“

“No.” Tim fell back into a ready stance, face red and splotchy from frustration and exertion. “I know what it looks like when you’re fighting for real. So fight me.”

Jason pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fine.”

Jason rushed first this time, and Tim met him in the middle. They exchanged a series of blows (though Jason pulled his punches — this was a spar not a brawl, and he kinda thought Tim had enough of Jason punching his lights out by now), and Tim held his own well. He’d gotten some good hits in during their confrontation at Titan’s Tower, but it was clear he had improved since losing to Jason back then. If Tim had been in a better state, he might’ve been able to hold out against Jason’s onslaught for a while.

As it was, Tim had clearly been training for a while before Jason had come in and had already been fatigued, and his lingering frustration from Jason’s kid-gloves was obviously making him sloppy. With Jason’s bulk and sheer strength, he had Tim pinned to the ground in minutes. Tim grunted and growled and struggled under him, trying to free himself, but Jason had both his arms pinned above his head and had settled his bulk over Tim’s thighs so he couldn’t flip their positions or kick Jason off.

“Satisfied?” Jason asked dryly.

Tim didn’t reply, twisting his wrists to test Jason’s grip.

“Ready to hit the showers? Alfred probably won’t be happy if we come to dinner all drenched in sweat.”

Tim twisted his hips, trying to throw Jason off but unable to get the leverage to move his considerable weight. “No, fuck you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn, Timber, you kiss Alfred with that mouth?”

Tim paid him no mind, continuing to hiss and spit under him. Honestly, it reminded Jason a lot of when he was Robin. Whenever Dick beat him in a spar, he would hiss and spit and carry on, trying to break the hold until Dick got sick of his whining and—

Ah. So that was why Dick had been tickling the kid to tears the other month. 

Jason gave Tim a considering look. For a moment, he wondered if he really had the right. Tim wasn’t his little brother, not really. Just because they got taken in by the same rich asshole did not mean they were related. He’d been telling himself so for months, even if there were moments of doubt. But, well, wasn’t Tim his little brother? They snarked and tussled over the computer and helped each other on cases, and Jason was here to eat family dinner with him for God’s sake.

And hey, maybe getting tickled to tears on the training mats by your asshole predecessor would become a Robin right-of-passage.

Amidst Tim’s struggling, Jason managed to wrangle both his wrists into one hand and pin them firmly above his head. Then, making sure Tim was watching, he hovered a hand over Tim’s stomach and slowly started wiggling his fingers.

Tim gasped and froze. Then, just as quickly, his struggles started up again with a new desperation.

“You wouldn’t.”

Jason grinned, lowering his wiggling fingers another inch. “Say uncle, Timmy.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, dragging his eyes away from the ticklish threat to meet Jason’s own. “Do your worst.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut tight just as Jason’s lowered his hand and touched down on Tim’s stomach. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed, going pink in the face as he tried not to laugh.

Jason laughed for him. “Come on, TimTam, we both know you’re ticklish as shit. No point in not laughing.”

Tim shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to worm away to the left as Jason’s hand traveled to his right side.

“No, it doesn’t tickle? Are you sure?”

Even though his eyes were still closed, Tim turned his face away from Jason, trying to hide behind one of his biceps. Jason grinned wider and jumped his hand over to Tim’s other side, delivering a series of nibbling pinches without warning. Tim squeaked, like the little baby bird he was, and jolted to the right to try and get away.

“I dunno, Baby Bird. Seems like it might tickle.”

Tim made a growling noise in the back of his throat, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh again.

“No? Maybe we should make sure all your nerves are working right, then.”

Tim’s eyes snapped open at that, glassy and watery from the effort of holding back his laughter. Jason made sure to grin at him, smug and toothy and all evil-big-brother, just like Dick used to do to him.

“Tell me, can you feel this?”

His hand shot up and skittered calloused fingertips and blunt fingernails against the exposed side of Tim’s neck. Tim’s head snapped to that side with a muffled squeal, his smile fighting to become open-mouthed and toothy, forcing Tim to bite down on his lip to keep his reactions at bay.

“Hmm, seems promising. How ‘bout here, can you feel that?”

Jason shot back down and vibrated his hand into the center of Tim’s belly. Tim tried to jackknife to protect himself, but with his wrists firmly pinned and Jason’s considerable weight on his thighs, he was forced to stay flat against the mats. He chose to toss his head back against the mats instead, shaking it back and forth furiously.

“No?” Jason asked, voice dripping with faux-concern. “You can’t feel it?”

Tim let an annoyed little groan, but quickly cut it off as it started to take on a giggly tone. Jason was being deliberately unhelpful in the matter, poking his index finger into various spots of Tim’s stomach and vibrating it.

“Right here, can you feel this? What about over here? And here? Come on Timbit, work with me here.”

Tim flinched and twitched at every prod, trembling with suppressed giggles. Jason’s own cheeks hurt from smiling — he could definitely see why Dick tickled the snot out of him so often when he was a kid. This was adorable and hilarious. But he still had yet to make the kid break, which was kinda annoying. Like, hello, how was Jason supposed to tickle the snot out of him if he wouldn’t even laugh? Jason paused for a moment, letting Tim catch his breath as he planned his next attack. Now where was it that made Tim shoot out of his arms the other week…

Oh, that’s right.

Jason put on a mournful look, shaking his head. “Starting to get real concerned here, Timbourine. Maybe we oughtta do a full injury check.” Jason rested his fingers on Tim’s lower ribs. “What do you say?”

Tim gasped, shuffling as far away from Jason’s hand as he could, but Jason followed the movement easily.

“Jason—“ Tim started, but cut himself off, pressing his lips together again.

“What is it you said to me, again? Do my worst, was that it?”

“Jason, I’ll— I’ll buffer Bruce for you tonight. I’ll take on your caseload. I’ll clean your motorcycle, I—“

“As tempting as that all sounds,” Jason had to raise his voice to be heard over Tim’s rambling. “You know what I wanna hear. Admit you lost.” 

Tim’s mouth clamped shut. Of course. How could the latest model not come with that patented stubborn Robin pride?

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers threateningly against Tim’s ribs, making him squirm. “Suit yourself.”

Jason wasn’t the greatest at picking apart Tim’s expressions, but he’d say the smile forcing its way across Tim’s face was almost giddy.

He started off with a typical injury-check touch, a light press and slide against the individual ribs, just to really play into the game he had set up. Tim’s face scrunched up instantly, obviously trying to hold back his reactions, and his body started squirming with a new fervor. 

“Nerves working here, Timmers?” Jason tickled his middle ribs a bit more deliberately, making Tim’s face spasm. “Seems to me like you might be feeling something. Does it tickle?”

Tim shook his head. Jason sighed.

“You leave me no choice.”

Jason released Tim’s wrists and latched onto either side of his ribs with both hands, tickling mercilessly. Tim’s eyes bugged out of his head as he let out a laugh bordering on a scream. His legs scrambled on the mats behind Jason, searching for leverage or freedom. As Tim’s laughter fell into desperate cackles, Jason couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Jason! Jay!”

“You know how to make it stop, Timmy.”

Even with his hands free, Jason was discovering that Tim was absolutely useless when he was tickled. Jason attacked lower on his ribcage and Tim’s hands latched onto Jason’s wrists in a feeble, laughter-weakened attempt to pry him off. That only opened up the rest of his ribcage and armpits to attack, which Jason took great advantage of. Tim’s laughter would get more panicky, more shrill, the higher Jason went, but his brain didn’t seem to know how to defend itself — seeing as his hands stayed latched onto Jason’s to try and pull him off.

“Jesus Christ, Baby Bird — how do you even live when you’re this ticklish?”

“Asshole!”

Jason raised an eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure Tim could see it through his squinted, teary eyes. “Be nice. I could make this so much worse.”

“No, no!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Of course, Jason still made it worse anyway. There was a particular spot towards the back of Tim’s ribs, right between the top two on either side, that sent Tim spasming like he’d been electrocuted. Jason laughed as he prodded at the weak points one at a time, watching Tim toss himself in the opposite direction of the ticklish jolts. Finally, he gave Tim a breather, resting his fingers against those spots on his ribs just to keep him giggly and twitchy.

“Last chance for mercy,” Jason said, just barely twitching his fingers to watch Tim jump. “Alfred’ll send someone down soon.”

Tim’s teary eyes went wide. “Wait, Jason, come on–”

“Damn stubborn little Robin.”

Jason dug his fingers in, torturing those little tickle spots as best he could.

“Fuck!” Tim practically screamed before breaking into laughter that would give even the Joker a run for his money. Surprisingly, the hysterical tone of it didn’t even make Jason’s skin crawl. “Uncle!” Tim cried out, and his laughter went silent.

Jason eased up, redirecting his attack lower on Tim’s ribs, though still vibrating his fingers into the nerves mercilessly. “Hm? What was that?”

“You win! Uncle, you win! Jason, come on!”

With a chuckle, Jason heaved himself off of Tim to sit on the mats next to him, ruffling his hair as he caught his breath.

“Fuck you,” Tim said, closing his eyes and relaxing bonelessly into the mats.

“Hey.” Jason raised his hands in surrender. “You could’ve stopped that at any time. Not my fault you’re a stubborn little bitch.”

“I’ll get you for this.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got, like, a hundred pounds on you and I’m twice your height. How do you think you’re accomplishing that, shrimp?”

Tim peeled one eye open to glare at him. “I’ve got Dick.”

Jason froze. Oh, shit.

“That he does,” a cheerful voice chimed in from the direction of the stairs. Dick strode towards them, a slightly feral smile on his face. “And I would be more than happy to help. We never did test your claim about the Lazarus Pit taking away your ticklishness.”

Oh, fuck, actually. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Tim about Dick’s thighs that one time.

Dick’s smile shifted from feral to innocent in the blink of an eye. “But maybe later. Alfred sent me to get you for dinner – and I know he wouldn’t appreciate your B.O. stinking up the dinner table. Hit the showers.”

Jason groaned as he got up, pretending to crack his back even though he wasn’t the slightest bit sore from their sparring or impromptu tickle attack. Then, he reached down and hauled Tim to his feet, shoving him in the direction of the Cave’s locker room ahead of himself. Just as he went to follow, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Good job, big brother,” Dick said, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t travel through the echoing cave. He gave Jason’s shoulder a squeeze.

Jason looked away and scoffed. “Yeah, whatever. Little shit was asking for it.”

Dick laughed and dropped his hand, shoving Jason toward the locker room much like Jason had shoved Tim. He tried not to think about it too hard, instead focusing on how carefully he’d have to watch his back in the future.

No way he was letting Timmy and Dickhead take him down without a fight.

[allfearstofallto]

saw yr posts abt submissive yanderes, and hear me out, tartaglia. i mean this from the bottom of my heart he is the one that wants you to do things to him, and while that’s not exactly submission i think it’s close enough?

just… in my mind he wants anything you’ll give him, he’ll give his body up to you, even if you punch and kick him, he takes it, sure he’d rather you treat him the way he would (does?) you, but any touch you give makes him feel like a wild animal.

tartaglia, who just needs you. idek i’m losing my train of thought 🙏

I don't think it's exactly what you wanted, but I got carried away and wrote masochist Childe👉🏾👈🏾. I hope that's okay!!! Personally, as a woman who loves femdom, it felt so good to write this though!! It was like I was going back to my roots.

TW: NSF.W Yandere themes, BDSM (bondage, sadism/masochism), violence, nipple play, unprotected sex, finishing inside, dub-con, overstimulation(?), choking

“Hurt me more,” he cooed while looking up at you with big, eyes full of anticipation. Drool leaking from his lips, his cheek was already red and warm from your stinging slap across it, “C’mon, I know you hate me. Now's your chance to treat me like you do.” He'd goad you with that same smug, smirk on his face.

Childe's big strong arms were tied with a rope to the headboard. The material was tight, digging into the flesh of his wrist anytime he'd struggle against them. But despite the aching pain you could imagine he was feeling, he showed a face of hunger, of desire for more.

His cock, large and twitching, was strained against his boxers, begging to be let free from its confines. When you brought another rough slap down across his cheek, you watched it twitch and leak and darken that already deep fabric with his precum, while he trembled with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

He'd grind his hips up, wanting you to free his aching dick, but you never did. You knew he could cum without it and he did too. Your hand would slide up his chiseled stomach, his body was always slightly colder than what it was supposed to be, and you squeezed one of his pink nipples between your finger tips. As hard as you could. Squeezing and twisting until your hand shook.

Lips clenched together, he muffled his own moans. His cock twitched in his underwear a few more times, the head of it rubbing against the precum he'd already spilled on his boxers .He came like that, the many shots of his semen continuing to soak the cloth until it began to drip down his cock again.

When he stilled from his orgasm, his body still twitching, he smiled at you lovingly. All the disgust you felt towards him still there, you'd turn away without a word.

You never took yourself to be much of a sadist, the idea of it being like a whisper of the night, never being brought to the day, but that was before Childe took you. Locked away in his home, falling victim to his torture that he called love, you felt animosity towards him grow. That animosity would turn into violent fits of rage, ones that he never took seriously. There was no way you could actually hurt a harbinger, especially without a vision, but that didn't stop you from trying. And one fateful day, you actually managed to connect a punch to his jaw.

It was your first time ever punching someone and felt more like you were hitting a brick wall than a person. You shook your sore hand out, immediately regretting what you'd done for the pain it caused you instead. But Childe stood there stiff, a little bruise forming on the side of his face. His eyes had rolled back, body beginning to shutter. His mouth agape, he let out a soft, low moan. You were going to tell him to stop joking around, that he wasn't funny, until he dropped to his knees in front of you, a wet patch forming on the front of his pants. Childe had cum just from your little act of violence.

While he loved the art of fighting. The rush that ending another life gave him, the way his body felt while he was throwing punches, it was an unmatchable adrenaline rush, he never knew he was one for pain. Pain from your hands felt different. It felt pleasurable. A familiar stinging followed by tingles that shot through his body. Only you could do that to him.

“You're incredible, my angel,” he moaned while kissing up your thighs, wanting to do more with this new found knowledge of his.

He had you laid back on the bed, pounding into your tender cunt with little mercy. Each long stroke of his cock made your toes curl from the unwanted pleasure of him hitting your insides. Your legs on his hips, you squeezed the sheets for leverage as you begged for him to stop, or at the very least slow down. He was going to fast, too drunk and clumsy from the satisfaction your dripping pussy was giving him.

Childe’s large hand engulfed your wrist, a feeling you were familiar with. Instead of holding you in place so he could fuck you deeper into the mattress with less struggle from you like you thought he would, he lifted it up and placed your palm to his neck.

“Make me,” he growled, lust clouding his eyes. Uncertainty caused you to tremble for a moment before you realized that this was Childe, nothing you could do could actually hurt him. He was asking for it, even going as far as to lift your legs higher, to thrust into you deeper, to make you try to stop him more.

You squeezed that muscled throat, choking him with the hope that he might actually die, but knowing better. He loved it, his already obnoxious moans were even louder than before. His thrusts felt even more rough, hips slapping against yours as you actually felt yourself growing a little aroused from this and he noticed too. A smirk on his face as he struggled to inhale, but still fucking you at that same brutal pace with those same deep, strokes.

He strained to speak as he tried to tell you he was cumming, his mouth just opening and closing, drooling down his chin. Childe forced his cock balls deep inside of you, going so deep with his length it almost felt uncomfortable. He began to cum, dick twitching like mad against your walls. Soft whimpers and groans would drop from his lips as you didn't let go of him, only squeezing his throat tighter.

His cock didn't get the chance to soften, he stayed hard as he started slow, shallow thrusts into your pussy again. The mixture of the pain of overstimulation and lack of air from your choking has him convulsing, but he didn't pull out, using his own cum as lube.

“Ah…hah…just say you want to milk me dry, my love, I'll keep going,” he managed to grunt through tears, his orange hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

[allgoldenelite]

Late as hell because I wasn't online when it happened, but here's why Taichi vs ZSJ from the NJC on 3/15 is so devastating. I'm very normal about this match. I'm normal about these two men and I can be trusted around matches where they're in the same ring /s.

Long so it goes after the cut.

(Btw I will say this here once but it goes for the entire post so please keep it in mind: it's irrelevant to me what's work or what's shoot. At the end of the day this is an art form, so if it was said in a tweet or on stream or backstage I'm taking it as absolute truth for the characters. If it made you feel something it's real enough, the rest is just a footnote.)

So, the mise-en-scène is that everything fucking sucks. Suzuki-gun is no more, Dangerous Tekkers are no more, Taichi was just hanging out with a literal pack of Just Some Guys in a casual work only relationship so that he can avoid getting hurt again, and yet he still gets hurt (btw you will burn in hell for this, Sanada). Sana-yan and Taichi go way, way back, so this latest betrayal brought to you by Action Comics The Amazing Always Lose Everything-man hurts especially deep and sharp. On stream he's been wondering, does this promotion even still need me? Does the wrestling business even still need me? Things are fucked, there's a reason he abandoned love, you know the spiel by now.

This is how we go into the NJC. I don't know about you, but when the participants and rounds got announced, personally I wasn't feeling particularly enthusiastic. Last year Tekkers didn't meet for their fated matchup, and this year it seemed even more unlikely as I assumed the Kidd push would continue (thanks, Kenny /s). But that's not how it went. Of course Zack wins his match, but in a surprising turn of events, so does Taichi. It's via count-out, but he wins nonetheless. Thus he will meet Zack on 3/15, with a preview tag set for 3/14.

He's absolutely miserable about it. He's so frustrated at the repeated interferences, the repeated setbacks, his own shortcomings, his lack of tangible achievements, but he's especially sad and embittered about the way this all came together. On stream he says that him and Zack have been wishing and waiting for a singles match ever since Suzuki-gun disbanded. Understandably, Taichi wanted it to be a big deal. So much does even the chance for matchup mean to him that anything but the main event of a big show is unacceptable. The way he got here makes him feel wretched. Wretched in front of himself, and wretched in front of Zack. Backstage he asks the cameras, and thus us, the audience, as well as the company, how the hell he's supposed to stand across from Zack and look him in the eyes. He, who has nothing to show for it. He's here by sheer luck. Even before the Kidd match he already sits awake all night, feeling awful. Even when Zack had the World belt, Taichi wanted to win the Global first so he could face Zack on somewhat equal footing. He even contemplates just withdrawing from the tournament altogether. It means that much to him.

What about Zack? Of course he's also distraught and irate deep down, but where Zack and Taichi differ in this, is that Zack has a clear goal: his goal is to motivate Taichi to come out of his moping shell. So yeah, it wasn't what they had wished for, but they can, as he says, control what they can control. We don't know what exactly they talked about as they find each other beneath the apron after the preview tag, heatedly making eye contact like two lovers outside a club in the morning hours, as far as they are concerned the only people in a ten mile radius. But we know that it resonated with Taichi, and he recounts some of it on stream. That this is still, in spite of everything, their match. It's only about how wins or loses (and not-so-secretly Zack is hoping Taichi wins, because he wants to see him at the top of that mountain where he knows he belongs). They'll wrestle this for themselves. It's fate. They're the best, they'll steal the show. "He said to me, 'How long have we waited for this match? How many years? Not the fans, not the company, how much have we waited? That's what matters most'." Zack knows it, and so does Taichi, even if he still claims his lack of talent and accolades is the reason it never happened sooner.

And backstage on 3/14 Zack practically yells at Taichi to wake up, shake off the misery and face him in the ring with all he's got. Because it also means that much to him. It's tough love, but it's love. "I will force the Taichi that I know, the man who should've already been a main eventer a decade ago. The only person that doubts you, Taichi, is yourself."

That tough love goes a long way, because once Taichi sees said comments, he's struck to his core. Who has ever treated him that way? "For as long as I live I will be proud of having tagged with you and having won the Best Tag Team Award." If you got some déjà-vu, it's because Taichi, much like myself and I wager to guess many of you, keeps coming back to this. No matter what happens, his life keeps coming back to Zack. But the thing about Taichi is that he has, in fact, that dog in him. No matter how many times he's pushed down, no matter how bad his luck is, no matter how many times he contemplates quitting, somehow, he always gets back up. And so, while still frustrated and sad, he goes into the 3/15 match a little bit more motivated, thanks to finding that inner fire and thanks to his former tag partner (or tag partner for life, according to Zack). They set out to steal the show and blow the main event out of the water, and boy, did they.

How do I even describe this match? If you haven't seen it yet, I aggressively implore you to (and the preview match, bc it's a very good and very emotional primer). You'll probably need a metaphorical cigarette after. They went out there that day to lay themselves bare-naked in front of the fans and the cameras and everyone else. The second half of the match made me yell like I haven't yelled at pro wrestling in a long time (the good kind of yell). If you're still somehow on the fence, take a look at these wonderful gifs to get a taste of a fraction of what you're gonna see in the match.

There's one spot in it that I can't stop thinking about, and I think it's because it embodies this whole encounter and story to me. After wisely escaping Zack's Cobra Twist and applying his Holy Cross Mausoleum (the name, ofc, comes from Fist of the North Star, but the moves is modeled after Kawada's dragon sleeper, the Stretch Plum), he has Zack trapped in the middle of the ring. But Zack just eggs him on. "More, harder," he seems to say with his hands and the patting of Taichi's head, even while he himself is already turning purple (I know you can "fake" it, that's not the point). He didn't care if he was gonna pass out in the middle of the ring at that moment. He didn't care if he was gonna lose (you can make a strong argument that he didn't even want to win), as long as it meant that Taichi got to a place where he could show the rest of the world what Zack has known for so many years.

So Taichi digs a little bit deeper still (altho arguably Kawada represents his very roots). He whips out a beautiful Emerald Flowsion and an even more beautiful belly-to-back ("LIFE IS A CHALLENG, SEIZE YOUR CHANCES" indeed), Zack whips out a beautiful Gotch-style piledriver in his own way to refer to back to their shared past, comms and the crowd and I scream and have been screaming for the past several minutes. What is the finish, you ask? A Zack-style Taichi-style Gedo Clutch. If that ain't love, I don't know what is. A move that can only exist because they met. "Thank you for coming into my life," Taichi says in a tweet after the match, something he has said before but will probably say until his last breath. As Zack himself puts it, he wouldn't be here without Taichi, and maybe this was his way of paying him back.

There's so much from Taichi's stream after the match as well, but if I had to pick one thing, it would be this: "I have all of these friends, I'm blessed with all of these friendships, people who support me and push me, but that was the first time someone has ever said something like that to me. I've always told myself that I'm not made to be champion, that this is all I can do. No wonder I couldn't get ahead."

He doesn't feel like he lost that day, and he's right. He didn't. Zack gave him what he needed to get back the most important love of all: the love for yourself. "Maybe," he muses, "I still have what it takes to love myself again." It's a new dawn.

Brother I need to lie down. Dangerous Tekkers forever.

(Also immediately after the match Taichi said Zack told him that this isn't over. The finish might have been smart (and a bit emotional), but it wasn't the end of this. I hope that, whenever they do get their next match, it comes in the shape that they've been hoping for, and it blows whatever else is on the card out of the water once more.)

(Also also this has nothing to do with anything, but later on stream someone comes along with the usual "are u really hitting each other" and it made me laugh as Taichi rolled up his sleeve and showed them Zack's FOOTPRINT on his shoulder lol. Wrestling fans are gonna wrestling fans.)

In summary, it's kinda funny that the guy is so obsessed with gacha because his luck is notoriously bad, but he's a trooper. Every time NJPW actually lets their story breathe again, I can't help but throw my fists on the ground in frustration. Not even at the company (though I will have Gedo's heart on a stick and then eat it). It's frustration at the "maybe in the next life" of it all. THERE'S STILL TIME YOU MORON. You already pulled the SSSS Ultra Rare ★★★★★★★ waifu!!!! THERE'S STILL TIME!!! I HEAR KYOTO IS BEAUTIFUL THIS TIME OF THE YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!

[luna-loveboop]

Wait...

It's November. It's November first. Yesterday was October 31st, so October is over. ...it's over. Is it over?

Inktober, artober, whumptober, flufftober, linktober, every tag ending with -tober that's been circulating for the past month... is it over? I don't know why it's just hit me but...

This matters. So I will try to get the message across, even though I'm not the best at it sometimes

Fanartists, fan writers, artists, fic writers, people making comics, every single one of you that has created art for the past month...

Thank you

This is my first October on tumblr. When I started seeing the "tober" tags, seeing the posts from artists with wips, saying they were going to make something every day to a prompt, making masterposts to update with each day, I thought "cool"

But every day this month, I have gotten on here and smiled.

And I don't mean smiled. I mean I smiled at least 20 times every time I got on the app because I saw all the art and fics. I got to see artists/writers connect stories through different day prompts. I saw people having the most brilliant ideas and creativity, flowing from their hands into their posts. I saw artists responding to continuous asks, telling them how amazing they are. I saw artists getting behind, and keeping going.

I saw Free. Beautiful. Emotional. Amazing. Original. Creative. Art.

Every day

I haven't committed to anything of this before, so I can't directly relate to what you guys were thinking and feeling. But I'm willing to guess; I think you probably enjoyed it, because most won't do such a huge project unless they enjoy it. I think you probably saw it as a challenge you were willing to fulfill, and an opportunity to grow and develop your skills.

... but I'm also willing to bet you did it for us. For people like me, who love art, but don't do this specific type, who are in fandoms, who love tracking and watching you art and sending you compliments, who take joy in your work. For the other artists (and writers!) who admire each others styles and love to learn from each other.

If anyone ever tries to tell me that humans are inherently evil again, I will strap them to a chair, pull up these posts and say look. Look at what these people did. Look me in the eyes and tell me these sorts of actions don't come from the most loving hearts. Tell me these people don't want to make others happy, that they aren't inherently good. And I will tell you you're wrong.

I have so much going on, yet somehow it slipped into my life that I was constantly looking at your art for the joy of it without me even noticing.

And how is it possible. That we have such a beautiful community of people here that we will share. And communicate. And exchange compliments. And literally do things and send asks solely for the purpose of making someone smile.

I'm almost crying by now. God I can't express it well enough! But I am so. So. Grateful

You guys brought me a month of joy! You gave headcanons, and art, and stories!

Even yesterday, Halloween, I was blown away. Because I had expected... I didn't expect anything. And then I log on and see people sending happy halloween asks, exchanging doodles of candy, and headcanons and gifs.

And some are still catching up to the schedule or whatever, and that's ok! But at the beginning of this post, when I was simply realizing it was November, I asked myself "is it over?"

Is it over?

... I don't think so. I've seen artists say they're going to continue and expand on a piece they made and especially liked this month. Some people are still continuing, catching up to a voluntary deadline. All those masterposts with your whump/fluff/link/ink tober art? I know many as well as myself will be going through, looking over your posts with smiles, catching up on some things they missed this month... it will continue in the people and artists I didn't know existed before, but now follow. In the skills and growth in creativity! In the community we've grown, and art you've made, and the art to come, at a normal rate like every other month, even if it's not October anymore!

But my artists, writers... thank you so much. I don't know if you guys know how valuable and amazing you are. How incredible it is that you exist! People say it's amazing we exist under a sky of such stars, but how incredible is it that you made a stranger on the internet smile every day! Your life is so. So. Valuable. I can't even express how grateful I am that you exist, that you somehow are selfless enough to share the most beautiful parts of yourself simply to create, and to create joy. Thank you so so much.

(And this applies to all artists, in any fandoms, not just mine. And I'm just as grateful to people who couldn't do something every day, or only one day! You still share your art, you're just as... incredible. You are incredible.)

Okay.

So I'm gonna do this, and if others want to do it in the reblogs that's great! I do not care at all about reblogging or likes, but I want to make the people that have brought me such joy some appreciation- I hope I can bring you even a smidgen of the light you have brought into my life. So I'm gonna tag all the artists/writers I know of/can think of that have done any sort of October challenge, all of you creators that have made me smile. If people wanna want to tag others in the reblogs or replies to spread love that's cool.

(Basically I don't know social customs or anything at all, so if you don't want me to tag or if I was supposed to do something different or something let me know I have no idea what I'm supposed to do)(if I like accidentally tagged someone who isn't an artist/writer or forgot someone I follow... sorry)

@skyward-floored @kikker-oma @adrift-in-thyme @blueskittlesart @zeldaseyebrows @smilesrobotlover @bahbahhh @soso-dedeck @lennsart @arecaceae175 @illcamp @breannasfluff @solarfire-art @26kabeuchi @cathianemelian @truffeart @scribbly-z-raid @uniquevoidflowers

To all the artists and writers out there: thank you so much!!! You are amazing and I'm glad you exist. Your life is precious, and you matter. Thank you so much for sharing your beauty with us, we love you too!!!!!

... yeah. Just want yall to feel loved... because you are. Again, thank you. Thank you so so much to my beautiful creators who create joy as well as art, who keep storytelling alive. Just... thank you.

:)

[suiana]

yo i saw ur rb && feel free to write about the renting concept!!! if u do pls tag me i’d love to see <33 😋

😻😻 rhanks genie

(yandere! rental boyfriend x gn! reader) (shitpost kinda) (concept based on this post)

you know, it's not like you were ugly, dumb or poor. in fact, you consider yourself rather attractive, smart and quite rich. but it seems that no one has noticed that which... might've been why you were single for a very long period of time.

very meaning from when you were born up until recently.

you had always desired for a relationship. wanting to experience the joys of love, the romance, the contentment you get whenever you're with that special someone.

unfortunately you never got to experience that. never. even after putting down your dignity and renting a boyfriend.

you had rented a rather pretty looking guy from this... dodgy website called 'rent-a-darling'? was that the name? it probably is. what a weird website it's called. anyways, it was basically a rental boyfriend/girlfriend website and you had absolutely struck gold with it.

perfect face, perfect body, incredibly intelligent... he was basically a work of art. and his personality wasn't half that bad either! he cracked jokes and they were entertaining enough! he made you laugh, feel better about your miserable love life...

but he just wasn't it.

so you decided to end contact with him. there was no point in continuing that rental service anyways. it's not like he'd like you back even if you fell for him.

except that was exactly what happened?? a few days after you officially ended your contact with your absolute god of a rental boyfriend, he showed up at your doorstep, panting as a lovesick look paints his beautiful features.

you were concerned to say the least. after all, you had never seen him act in such a way before. which was why you allowed him in... which led you to your current situation which was far from ideal.

"could you let me go please? my arms are sore..."

"you know, you're really cute like this."

you merely sigh in response, looking away as you grow awkward under his obsessed gaze. this has been the fifth day since he tied you up, only allowing you to leave the bed for meals and the toilet.

and in those five days he's openly admitted to be in love with you.

while it was nice and endearing to hear such words, you only wish it was from someone you actually loved back. and maybe not as crazy as this guy was.

"can you please let me go? do you want money or something? i can give it to you-"

"what i want is your love, and that cannot be bought with money."

he interjects promptly, still smiling at you with his pearly white teeth which were honestly starting to creep you out. why were they so white? why was he so objectively perfect? and why was he madly obsessed with you?

"hey can i just ask something? why are you so obsessed? like just why."

he pauses for a second, hummung contently as he shuts his eyes for a bit.

"I'm not sure why,"

his eyes open again and he continues his sentence. this time, you can't help but feel an impending sense of dread in your gut when he speaks.

"i guess i just really adore you."

he then giggles oddly, tugging at your bedsheets as his face nears yours.

"you complete me, my love."

you grimace as his face nears yours. ugh, what you wanted was that lovey dovey shit you saw on television. not whatever this was. kidnapping and constant moans of how your captor loves you.

but oh well, it is a relationship. just not the one you wanted. maybe you could learn to deal with it-

"darling! if you tell me how much you love me, block everyone else you know, leave your job, and promise to run away with me, I'll untie you! how about it?"

...yeah, you're not dealing with this. perhaps you're just not meant for love.

[a-d-nox]

Hi,

I’m a new follower and I love your body of work ♥️

I would love to know more about.

Sappho (asteroid 80) & Aphrodite (1388) in relation to my chart.

Sappho is Retrograde at 2 degrees of Leo 10th house.

Out of sign conjunction with Aphrodite in Cancer at 29 degrees 9th house.

Trine Pluto at 0 degrees of Sagittarius 2nd house.

I’m currently thinking about taking my poetry seriously, I’d love to know more about retrograde Sappho and how the asteroids and planets are working together in my chart and what it could indicate.

Thank you!!

sappho (asteroid 80), what's her sign/degree, where she sits in a chart, and her aspects

after receiving quite a few asks and comments (reminder: @r3dmusk ) about sappho aspects and placements i decided to continue the series!

notice: this is a post about sexuality and is mature in content.

all of this is in my opinion. some of it you may be like how tf did she come up with this. my answer: intuition and experience with other people's charts that i have available to me. warning i can be harsh: please don't take everything i say as predestined, astrology is possible outcomes not guaranteed ones. plus let's not forget orbs matter, dominance matters, etc. it's never just sappho. this is just a starting place for when examining a single asteroid in an entire galaxy. take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

*all of these observations are based on a natal chart - solar return and persona charts will change all these observations because the context is different*

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

!!! RETROGRADE MAKES ALL OF THESE THINGS LISTED BELOW SUPER STRESSFUL OR SLOW TO APPEAR IN YOUR LIFE !!!

signs/degrees

aries (1°, 13º, 25º): i feel like this person is the type to make a grand gesture in a relationship by writing poems for their person or even drawing/painting their person. they aren't particularly gifted but the gesture makes it obvious they are in love - or at least in lust with a person. their sexuality tends to air on the adventurous side - they will try anything once. they are definitely the initiator in a romance though. they aren't the type to wait for someone - they are the people who wanted to go first when presenting in school. and they are still a force to be reckoned with. that being said - they are ultra feminists; they don't mess around. no one messes with them and what they believe to be just.

taurus (2°, 14°, 26º): these people tend to be like the poetess herself - an artist at heart. they often dabble in some form of art as means to better express their emotions. sappho started writing poetry as a means to expression her devotion to others (such as aphrodite, eros, and those she admired). sometimes people can find their love suffocating. these people see the beauty in things that others may find to be average - they have a very appreciative eye when it comes to the beauty of all things. they tend to be rather open about their sexuality (they are feminist, LGBTQIA+ advocates, etc.). what they may want to be careful about concerning love is that they may love on a higher frequency then those around them - protect your heart and never lower your frequency if you end up hurt; the world needs more of you not less.

gemini (3°, 15°, 27º): these people tend to be appreciators. they notice beauty that goes otherwise overlooked. they see they beauty in the unpopular and somewhat messy art. they love chaos. art and poetry is meant to have a flow and these people enjoy when there is anything but that involved. they like books that don't end in a "happily ever after". they love communication that is messy - repartee and gossip are one of their favorite things because it shows just how much people care. why fight if their is nothing worth fighting for? why gossip if you aren't curious or jealous in some regard? it's that duality that they enjoy so much. without hatred there would be no real comparison to love. often they can convey sentiments like these with ease, however, their sentiments tend to be too bold in the form of communication both written and verbal.

cancer (4°, 16°, 28º): women love women - why is this such cottage core lesbian vibes - frankly, it's the earth signs too that give this vibe. but what is more sappho of lesbos than a cancerian influence? these people see the beauty in women and the beauty in nature - it's empress major arcana vibes to me. they exude ultra feminine energy - which needs to be explored for them sensually. they are very much receivers - if they attempt to chase someone, they like they will find themselves gravely hurt.

leo (5°, 17º, 29°): they are vibrant people who express themselves in very colorful and creative ways. they have an artistic eye and tend to be more so painters than anything else. sexually and romantically, these people are willing to try anything once. politically, they tend to be strong advocates for the rights of LGBTQIA+ individuals - they 100% are willing to be at every march they hear about so their voice is and their community is heard. love is love. every body for everybody. for these people there is no such thing as being too bold where love is concerned.

virgo (6°, 18°): these aren't the artist and poets of the world, these are the critics and editors. on the plus side, they know quality when they see it - they know how to appreciate true beauty and art. these people also tend to be self explorative in the sensual/sexual sense. they don't tend to explore sexuality with others until they understand their own bodies. these people aren't bold in the slightest when in love - they edit their thoughts and feelings and tend to overthink the situation. they can benefit from being a bit more carefree.

libra (7°, 19°): these are artistic people who love the aesthetic and they absolute love to curate the world around them. they are affectionate and friendly people - some may even say flirty. they explore sexuality with others even without sex being involved - they could do so via color evaluation, boudoir photoshoot, yoni retreat, etc. speaking of a yoni retreat - learning about their yoni and how to appreciate theirs is critical for learning about their sexuality and sensuality. they don't have much to be concerned about when it comes to being too bold in love - flowers and diamond rings are never too big or too bold with them.

scorpio (8°, 20°): this is another placement that needs some yoni exploration. they need to explore themselves sexually and sensually to recognize what they like and what they do not like. they are passionate people who need to learn their life direction before they can commit to another person - when they find the person they love, they will be their sole focus. which could be scary for those that they love because they can be obsessive and extreme when it comes to the connection. sex is of great importance to them and can be at the forefront of their relationships.

sagittarius (9°, 21°): these people have an abundance of talent. these are the people who write unforgettable prose that live rent free in the minds of many people. often writing is how they express themselves; they connect well with the written word. these are the people who will quote poetry and other romantic lines to those they care about. they have a lot of feelings when it comes to connecting with others, so it is of great importance that they work out their emotions before letting another person know how they feel lest they wish to scare their person away.

capricorn (10°, 22º): i feel like this is a person who has cut off their creative side in order to do something more practical. they need to figure out how to tap into their creative spirit. their ideas are worth while and it is okay to do something without thinking too deeply. it is important that they explore their limitations in a connection. not everything will make sense but that is okay. there is no order or correct answer when it comes to love - love isn't supposed to make sense 100% of the time. stop seeking commonsense when it comes to love.

aquarius (11°, 23º): i don't see these people as overtly artist but they do tend to know exactly what to say in most moments - they can rally nearly any crowd with their empowering speech. their hopes and dreams tend to reflect those of the people around them, they simply know how to say it best. if they are not be part of the LGBTQIA+ community - they are 100% likely to show up to advocate for others - they believe in equality for all and that no one should have to repress their true self like sappho likely did during her time and how she was repressed and likely straight-washed in myth. these people do have the danger of having a lot of hope where romance is concerned. they may believe that if they are outright and boldly express their emotions, they will be reciprocated or that their partner(s) will change to be the model person they want most. these people may have to come to the understanding that not every time they are vulnerable means that they are owed that vulnerability in return or that not everyone will change in the way they wish them to.

pisces (12°, 24º): these are poets and writers. these people don't mess around when it comes to love. they realize that love is an abstract concept that doesn't always make sense and they are comfortable with the idea of blind love. they aren't afraid to get their heart broken in that regard - "it is better to have loved than to never have loved at all" for them. these people are very feminine and know how to love with their whole being. it is important that they figure out how to spot red-flags though because while love is blind... it could just be selective color blindness. if people tell you that you are missing something that is important about your connections, listen to them. outsiders can sometimes see through the fog that you find yourself in romantically.

houses

1h: you are seen as imaginative and dreamy. others may believe that you might have your head in the clouds. you are likely someone who only comes back to earth when your desires have manifested. often sexuality radiates off of this person - though there tends to be some uncertainty in their sensuality. they take a lot of action on behalf of the feminist agenda - they are advocates. for these people their lust can be confused with their love. and cause issues in connections.

2h: i feel like these people waver sexually; sometimes they are super sexual and even hyper sexual and other times they are celibate or asexual. they either have a lot of sexual encounters or little to none. they do however have an abundance of talent when it comes to the world of creation and beauty. they also have a lot of love to give others. their ebb and flow in the romantically energetic world is likely to confuse others and might turn people off. it is important that they learn to articulate that they can't chase others 100% of the time instead they need someone to pursue them too. it is a give and take in the world of love - no one should be 100% on the take end nor should they be 100% on the give end.

3h: these people are poets - they love love and aren't afraid to express it. often their writing (hobby or otherwise) can present itself as short fragments that can pack a solid punch and light up the world for those around them. they inspire others to be more expressive and to share their feelings with others. unfortunately, for them there is a high chance that they will keep their feeling on the page rather than directly telling those they love. they likely struggle when it comes to communicating their sensuality aloud when there isn't a written reference. they have to learn how to be more adaptable where their emotions are involved - especially where they wish to include another person in them. nothing is more confusing than being approached by someone who just walks away without saying they meant to.

4h: your family can be rather political - you might come to join their school of thought (willingly or unwillingly) or you might strongly oppose them. for these people it is impossible to be truly themselves around their family (it is rare if they do and that might have everything to do with their aspects). sappho was forced into a connection. either you will find yourself fighting against the same arrangement or submitting to such concepts. often these people are politically strong willed; they wish to make their voice and the voices of their community strong whether that is the feminist community and/or the LGBTQIA+ community. sometimes these people find themselves picking their beliefs over their family.

5h: these people are artists and creative masterminds. they have a high aptitude when it comes to making things (canvas, tapestry, oil, sculptures, etc). very few mediums are likely out of their scope. they are likely to experiment when it comes to sexuality and sensuality. they find it amusing to surprise people in that regard. the more surprising they are the more turned on they are likely to be. they are likely to express their love in bold and creative ways that excite the people around them.

6h: these people may have a few jobs in which they are exposed to sexuality or art forms in some way - they could work in a diverse atmosphere or they may write for their living. these people may not wish to be married at any point in life and express it quite often as a limitation of the self (very much a "it's just a piece of paper" vibe) - love is something bigger than such an institution to them. their unwavering love may present itself in a workplace - forbidden love motif for sure. alternatively, they may have some sort of sexual health issue arise for themselves or their partner. it may be something unknown between them and it may do the relationship some harm (betrayal or fear is a strong possibility) - but if they both are willing to face it together all is likely to be just fine.

7h: often this placement makes for very artist people who use their partner as their muse. love for them is very open and very flexible - they might be pan or interested in an open relationship. they are very expressive when it comes to who and what they want in life. they don't mind competing for attention or proving that they are the better choice for a partner. they are bold people with the ability to both surprise and fluster their partner(s).

8h: they are very likely to produce a famous work of poetry and/or series of art that gains a lot of interest. they leave a fine legacy behind for generations of people to draw inspiration from. they are passionate individuals that use their intimacy with others to best express themselves. there is much for these people to explore when it comes to their sensuality. these people can be very intimidating in a romance. they have such a beautiful way with words/expression. their passion is unbeatable. and they frequently make people unsettled by the intimacy they share with others. their depth can scare people away is the short and sweet of things.

9h: these people love to explore the realm of art and writing - they are liberal arts people for sure. often these people are writers. they have a great love for poetry from all eras and style types. other then the artistic realm these people are very sexually and sensually explorative. they will try anything once.

10h: this person could be a professional artist or poet - they might even teach in these fields. they are esteemed professionals who often produce someone very popular in the realm of media. they could also be very open about their sexuality - they often advocate for women's rights and LGBTQIA+ rights. they are vastly known for having a lot of love for people; unfortunately, their love/feelings for others is often used against them.

11h: these people are aspirating artists and poets - depending on the aspects and sign/degree, some grow into rather gifted artists and poets. they are often sexually ambitious people who are willing to try anything once. they may even wish you find someone who is sexually open like them. they are, however, prone to bottling up their true sexual desires as they don't wish to be seen as too bold.

12h: these people love poetry and art as it tends to be intriguing to them and thusly causes them to seek a concentration in these areas... they are prone to obsession - these are truly starving artists. they are also obsessed with romance and love though often they worry about potential scandal about sharing their true self and desires - they tend to repress both. frequently, their unwavering loyalty to those they love is their downfall and causes them much woe.

aspects from sappho to

sun: positive aspects: often art or poetry is tied to who you are. you might be very skilled and recognizable for your creativity. you could receive a lot of attention in this regard. alternatively you might be someone who receives a lot of attention for their sexuality and sensuality. it might feel like your in the spotlight for your work or whoever you are dating most days. these people tend to be very involved with pride and other festivities that allow for the freedom to express the self and sexuality. negative aspects: you might feel as though your art receives very little attention despite it being cutting edge and different from what others praise in the mainstream. you might have a moment in the spotlight for your work but the vitality is likely short lived. this is the energy of a "one hit wonder". these people also have to be wary of pride surrounding their work - no one is without criticism and no work is prefect and without potential improvements. these people could be nervous about putting their sexuality and sensuality on display and are likely to seek validation in less public spaces. it might even excite them for no one to know what happens behind closed doors. they could also face public rejection when expressing their feelings which makes them wary to share them going forward.

moon: positive aspects: these are the true poets of the group. they use their poetry to express their emotions in a very lyrical manner. it could be a very comfortable way for them to express their sensuality and femininity. even if this person is masculine presenting, they tend to more aligned with their divine femininity when connected to the lyrical world of poetry. these people don't struggle to show their true feelings in the slightest - they care so much that it can make some people rather uncomfortable. its not so much insta-love as it is being really in touch with their true wants and desires. the feminine presenting individuals are more likely to be comfortably bisexual or lesbian and extremely comfortable with their feminine assets (breasts). negative aspects: these people come from a feminine line of artists and/or poets. often they struggle with the precedent that is set by those family members - they to want to create pieces that make others feel things but often if just leaves them feeling inadequate in comparison. these people often struggle to feel comfortable on multiple fronts. they often don't feel all that comfortable in the feminine sense - they likely were not briefed as they should have been on the changes that were happening to them in adolescence. they likely felt shocked and uncomfortable when they began menstruating or their breasts began developing - they likely hide those facets with a level of shame. these milestones marked for them the end of girlhood and just being them - now they have expectations of womanhood that make them feel like they were losing a semblance of themselves. that being said sensuality and sexuality likely made them rather uncomfortable - they likely repress/repressed a lot of these feelings. its just not within their comfort zone.

mercury: positive aspects: everything they say is beautiful. everything they think is beautiful. how they see the world is beautiful. so please don't forget to share it with others. naturally you are an introvert - you keep things quiet. journaling is likely something you really enjoy doing. your social media tends to be more artsy and less focused on you but more focused on things you enjoy doing. you have graceful mannerisms that are impossible to miss. everything is so lovingly curated and organized in your life. negative aspects: you aren't the most eloquent people - often the words "like", "um", "you know what i mean?", and profanity are part of your every conversation. often things sound better in your head than they do when you speak up. it is quite likely your perspective is different from reality - its rather surreal and it tends to be tainted by your opinion rather than reality. you aren't the most consistent/routine oriented people - journaling is sporadic, answering texts even more so (you will read it and say "i will respond later" but later doesn't come), and forget it on social media you often are on it too much watching everyone and everything carefully or not at all. often it seems like you have plenty of things too say but it might just be gossip...

venus: positive aspects: you love boldly and without stressing what others will think. society be damned. love is love. they are the next most likely, after moon aspects, to be bisexual or pansexual. they find beauty, love, and harmony in all their relationships without fail. i also feel like these are the people who remain friends with their exes. also important in the romantic realm of this person - their exploration of themselves. self-love and the exploration of sensuality is just as important as the love you provide others. these are feminist individuals who are likely to advocate for feminine rights as well as encourage exploration of themselves (yoni retreats, women only gyms, girls retreat, etc). while these people might not be poetic, they do value poetry and well spoken people. you are likely to be artists. negative aspects: there is something lazy about these people and the way they love others. you don't share anything about yourself easily. you aren't the most romantic. nor is sex a sensual experience - it is just sex. don't get me wrong you do enjoy sex - you like it a lot. but its often more about their pleasure than their lover's. something about these individuals has a masculine element too like they are uncomfortable with femininity - they try their hardest to not blend with the aesthetics associated or the expectations associated with the divine feminine (these people tend to be more tomboyish to me). these people may own a lot of art but it is unlikely they with find themselves making something they enjoy.

mars: positive aspects: you can create sexual poetic or artistic things. these people tend to be more passionate and creative. your sexual or sensual experiences fuel artistic endeavors, such as writing, art, or music. you likely express sensuality openly and creatively, leading to a more confident approach in matters of the heart, relationships, and sexuality. you likely feel comfortable and assertive in expressing your sexual desires and preferences, without hesitation or shame. there is balance between raw passion and refined emotional connection with these aspects. they tend to have relationships where both physical and emotional needs are well-expressed. they often explore different aspects of sexuality, including bisexuality/pansexuality, also they have a willingness to experiment and engage with their desires more openly. they tend to have a deep understanding of their needs and those of their partner. negative aspects: you might find yourself in relationships where there is a disconnect between physical desires and emotional desires. this aspect could manifest as feeling conflicted between wanting intense physical connections and needing a more emotional and sensual relationship. someone with these aspects might have strong sexual desires but feel ashamed or uncomfortable expressing them in a way that aligns with their emotional/mental vision of you they are / who they should be. they might find themselves being in a relationship with someone they love but feel uncomfortable asking for something sexual they enjoy out of fear they will be looked at differently. they tend to struggle with self-acceptance or face external resistance in expressing their true sexual identity and sexual desires. you might be someone who rush into relationships or sexual experiences without considering your emotional needs, leading to dissatisfaction or regret. alternatively, you may feel that your creative work is met with criticism, leading to discouragement or dissatisfaction with your artistic pursuits.

jupiter: positive aspects: you have enhanced artistic talents and self-expression, particularly in the realm of poetry, music, and/or other creative endeavors. you have an abundance of creative ideas and a natural flow in expressing them. you have a great appreciation for beauty, art, and culture, you seek opportunities for artistic growth and success. you approach love with generosity, optimism, and personal depth, leading to fulfilling partnerships. you are likely to explore your sensuality and sexual identity. you may find inspiration in travel, religion, and/or cultural exploration. you have the ability to be an artist and/or poet whose works have an impact; you can insight hope, optimism, and love. you have opportunities for success in artistic/creative fields. you can achieve public recognition, financial success, or widespread appreciation for your artistic works. negative aspects: you may tend to engage in sexual activities recklessly/excessively, without considering the emotional / long-term consequences. you may have unrealistic expectations in romantic relationships. this only tends to lead to disappointment when reality doesn’t live up to your idealized visions of love. you may overlook red flags in relationships, hoping for the best and assuming things will work out, only to be let down later. they might struggle with guilt / inner conflict around their sexual desires especially if they feel these go against their spiritual or moral beliefs.

saturn: positive aspects: you value commitment and stability in relationships; preferring deep, long-term connections over fleeting encounters. you like lasting bonds built on trust, reliability, and mutual respect. if you work in creative fields, you likely have a disciplined approach to honing your craft. you can create relationships that are not just passionate but also long-lasting and resilient. your creative works may hold a sense of realism, wisdom, and depth, reflecting the complexities of human emotion in a thoughtful, mature manner. your desires are often expressed in a way that is thoughtful, considerate, and respectful of boundaries. you have the ability to learn and grow from past romantic and sexual/sensual experiences. you may have a serious commitment to developing your artistic or poetic talents. diligence is likely to payoff. your dedication to the arts may lead to recognition for your skill, precision, and depth in expressing themes of love, beauty, and/or human emotion. you have a natural inclination towards showing love through actions, loyalty, and support, rather than grand gestures or overly idealistic expressions. negative aspects: you may have feelings of guilt, inhibition, and: or discomfort around sensuality and emotional expression. you likely struggles to embrace your desires; leading to self-denial or repression of natural impulses. you likely have the tendency to be overly reserved/cautious in romantic matters which leads to a cold/distant demeanor in relationships. you may have an inclination toward pessimism in love, always expecting challenges or disappointments, which can hinder the growth of a healthy, balanced relationship. alternatively you make experience blockages in artistic or poetic expression. you could be highly self-critical, doubting your creative abilities and feeling as if your work is never good enough. there could also be a fear of failure in creative pursuits, leading to procrastination, hesitation, and/or abandoning projects altogether. a fixation on the past can prevent them from moving forward and embracing new experiences in their romantic life. you might feel uncomfortable with the openness and intimacy required in deep emotional connections, leading to a preference for emotional detachment or avoidance of romantic entanglements.

uranus: positive aspects: you likely have a highly original artistic or poetic style. you are likely to be someone who embraces their sexuality in a way that’s both free and unconventional. you explore and express your desires without inhibition or conforming to societal norms. with this aspect you are likely to experience sudden and/or unconventional relationships. you likely advocate for gender equality and LGBTQ+ rights in a way that’s revolutionary or ahead of your time - using art, writing, and/or activism to challenge norms. you may use art, poetry, and/or your personal life to challenge taboos, express rebellion, or embrace shocking themes that push boundaries and inspire change. negative aspects: you may experience sudden bursts of inspiration followed by creative slumps, making it hard to consistently create. your artistic/poetic expression might feel scattered. you could have difficulty finding balance between personal freedom and intimacy, leading to sudden breakups or arguments in your love life. your individuality / progressive ideas about love and sexuality might alienate you from others, causing tension in friendships and/or familial relationships. you might have a tendency to rebel against traditional notions of love or gender roles in a way that is self-sabotaging. you might resist emotional vulnerability or act impulsively in romantic situations, leading to hurt feelings in a relationship. you might push boundaries to the point of discomfort, shock, and/or controversy. your behavior coming off as more chaotic than visionary.

neptune: positive aspects: you are highly inspired by love and beauty. what you create has a dreamy, ethereal quality. you have a natural ability to channel deep emotions into art, music, and/or poetry. you have a deeply romantic and compassionate nature. love to you is a transcendent, spiritual experience; you may often seeking connections that feel divine and otherworldly. in a relationship, you are likely to have an intuitive understanding of your significant others’ emotional needs. you have innate ability to be empathetic, compassionate, and kind. if you take part in deity work, your deities are likely to answer you in unexpected ways. negative aspects: you tend to have unrealistic expectations in love. you may idealize your partner and your relationship, only to feel disillusioned when reality doesn’t live up to your fantasy. this can result in disappointment, heartbreak, or unrequited love. you may have a tendency towards emotional avoidance and/or denial in that regard. you may struggle with creative blocks, feel overwhelmed by your imagination, or have trouble grounding your ideas into tangible form. this aspect can manifest as dishonesty or secrets in relationships. you either deceive yourself about your feelings or attract partners who are dishonest or elusive, leading to betrayal or confusion in love. you may give too much of yourself to your partner and losing your sense of identity. often you endure unhealthy relationships out of misguided loyalty or compassion. you may have unhealthy emotional attachments, obsessions, and/or infatuations. you might become captivated by someone/something unattainable, causing emotional turmoil or dissatisfaction.

pluto: positive aspects: relationships for you may feel fated/karmic, and can lead to significant personal growth. you might channel deep emotions, desires, and transformations into your art/poetry. your creativity could lead to bold, passionate works that explore themes of love, death, rebirth, and transformation. art for you might be cathartic. you are the most likely of the bunch to be seen as highly attractive and charismatic. your personal presence and your artistic creations are what makes you magnetic. you have the ability to process and release deep emotional wounds, using love, art, or poetry as a tool for your healing. you are willing to explore more taboo aspects of love, sexuality, and relationships. you embrace the darker / more intense aspects of love and desire. negative aspects: you know how sappho pitch herself of a cliff... you may experience intense feelings of infatuation or obsession in relationships, where you become overly fixated on a partner or idealized love. which can create an unhealthy dynamic and lead to emotional turmoil. you may struggle with issues of dominance and submission in your relationships, leading to toxic patterns or manipulative behavior. you may experience cycles of emotional highs and lows, leading to dramatic breakups or turbulent interactions that leave lasting scars. you may have a fear of vulnerability in intimate relationships. you may avoid genuine emotional connection due to fears of being hurt or overwhelmed, leading you to have more superficial interactions.

aphrodite (1388): positive aspects: you are someone who can call upon the goddess to assist you in matters of love, and she reassure you that your desires will be fulfilled. you will find you have a responsive deity, willing to intervene on your behalf. she will help you to navigate the complexities of love and giving you confidence. you naturally have a sense of personal power and control in love. your muse is beauty and emotional depth - it can be seen in your artistic works. negative aspects: you may only approach divinity in moments of deep pain or when faced with unrequited love. even with divine intervention, your romantic life is likely fraught with emotional suffering. you have lack of control/power over your own love life. there is a sense of helplessness or lack of autonomy when things don't work out how you expect them to. even divine favor cannot fully prevent the pain, longing, and/or rejection that come with human love.

eros (433): positive aspects: intense emotional experiences, allowing you to feel and express love and desire with greater depth and passion. you make rather compelling and evocative works. the intensity of longing and desire may spark artistic creativity, allowing you to explore love in all its emotional and physical dimensions. you may have a profound understanding of the shared human experience of love and desire. your art may highlights the sweetness and joy that comes from love, even amid its challenges. negative aspects: this can manifest as intense emotional suffering. the feelings of heartache, longing, and despair are likely very familiar to you. love can feel vulnerable, powerless, or all-consuming to you, which can be overwhelming and destabilizing. you may intensely long for someone who does not return the same feelings, resulting in frustration, loneliness, and emotional suffering. desire can often feel like a burden.

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[pixelchills]

So, I think it's time to talk about Sun in Help Wanted 2 and how I think a lot of people have (in my opinion) misunderstood the sass and now think Sun is some mean bully who needs a cigarette and a vacation.

Posting my thoughts under here for spoiler warnings:

I think first and foremost we need to understand that Sun has always, ALWAYS, been a sucker for rules. He had one rule for Gregory in Security Breach, which he broke and Sun banned him from the Daycare.

In the Arts & Crafts game in HW2 Sun is overly giddy and excited, a little bit anxious but clearly tries to hide it. He wants you to just follow the rules and do arts and crafts with him!

If you follow the rules, you get no mean or sassy comments and instead he gives you praises and even does the cute yippee jumps at the end.

But if you misbehave (throw things at him, eat the supplies) he gets irritated, but none of the voicelines really hint towards him being mean or sassy to you, but more of his worry about his own and your safety.

You throwing things at him: Sun sees you're making a mess, he doesn't like the mess. If you hit him with the items he often laughs at it sarcastically and tells you to stop. Firmly. Sometimes he lets out comments under his breath ("I should turn off the lights myself").

You eating the art supplies: well, we all collectively know it is not healthy. Sun obviously doesn't want you to do that either. I think at this moment he just knows you're a damn idiot since you're an adult and are eating the googly eyes. I don't blame him for getting so angry; Sun realises he is just babysitting an adult which is not something he is supposed to do.

Sun doesn't like the arts you make if you haven't followed the rules. This is where he gets sassy and mean. His rules were very simple! If anything, this just proves the fact Sun is a little goody-shoes who values rules and doesn't like those who don't follow them.

During the course of the arts and crafts, Sun is impatient. He rushes you and keeps bugging about the time. "You're taking foreverrrrrr" is my favourite line just simply how frustrated he sounds. We always knew Sun was speedy and has no patience to just sit and wait. He needs to have his hands busy because that's most likely his way to deal with his anxiety - sitting still doing nothing will make his anxiety worse, or depression, or whatever he is trying to hide.

Because that's how he is in the RUIN version of the level. Just sitting in his pillowfort, sad and depressed. Just wanting to be left alone. Too long for doing nothing, his sad thoughts and the neglect has caught upon him. He is so so sad, but let's you work on the crafts as long as you just get out and leave him to continue sulking.

He doesn't trust you. Sun says: "It's safer this way". But it might not mean that it's safer for you, but safer for him. He doesn't want to give himself the false hope of someone coming to his rescue, or he has the fear that you're a human who will hurt him again. Either of those options are just really, really sad and I think everything he went through between these two games is a worth of an analysis, but we'll leave that for another day.

In short: Sun is still the same Sun we all fell in love with, he hasn't turned into a sassy bully just because he doesn't like your art. But we need to understand he is just THAT strict for the rules, because breaking them will either get him, or you, in trouble.

[michaelscorneroftheinternet]

ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!

IT'S ABOUT TIME I GIVE SOME LOVE TO MY FAVORITE CREATORS!!!

And by love I mean scream my lungs out-

@strange0-0storm

Bro your character SMG8 has me in a chokehold!

He had me with music. I mean hell I'm listening to music right now while writing this (Digital Hallucination by OR3O) and was when drawing this. I listen to music constantly for inspo. I can imagine sitting and vibing with SMG8 just sharing music together.

Your art style specifically is a big love of mine. I very much envy how you draw SMG8's teeth-

@ominus-potato

BRO....

I literally originally started lurking around your page just finding Marware a fun crack ship but at this point you've dragged me into this ship full on. I'm a sucker for idiot with a charismatic partner. Will always remind me of Roger and Jessica Rabbit.

I continuously look forward to any post of yours! <3

@purpdrawsthings

WHERE TO EVEN START WITH YOU BUDDY-

BRO I SWEAR EVERY TIME I WAKE UP AND SEE A MENTION FROM YOU I GET A GOOFY ASS SMILE ON MY FACE! YOUR ART IS CONSISTENTLY AMAZING!

Your love for all my Aus and me and my friends au brings a smile to both our faces!!!!

@misskamilyvision

YOU.

WHEN I FREAKING GET YOU!!! YOUR LITTLE LORE BITS HAVE BEEN DRIVING ME INSANE!!!

I SWEAR ONE MORE AND I MIGHT COMBUST!

STOP BEING SO GOOD AT SAYING SO MUCH AND SO LITTLE IN ONE POST!!!

Not to mention but the fanart you have done for me in the past still brings a smile to my face whenever I find it in my fanart folder!

Never stop being so dang creative!

@grinnames

Hhiiiiiiiiii buddyyyyyy~

Fun tid bit about God Box AU Michael.

They know we exist.

They can see us.

Past the screen.

Teehee! But that out of the way your GodBox AU posts are always a pleasure to see! As someone who loves some good horror I lovingly enjoy each post!

I look forward to another lore drop on those bois. Especially maybe more of Mario as I'm intrigued about our spaghetti loving Italian.

@its-a-me-mango

Aye it's the doc!

The one and only Mango!

Your art is consistently just great eye candy for me.

Though I must repeat as I did to KamilyVision....

STOP DROPPING SUCH VAGUE LORE WITH LITTLE CONTEXT!!!! /J

IMMA FUCKING LOSE IT WITH THIS SHIT!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU MAN?! FMSKKDNFBDKWLKJFOSLWJBD

@tiredsmashbros

YOU....

I GOT A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU BUCKO!!!!

STOP JUMPSCARING ME WITH FANART MAN!!! YOUR GONNA FRY MY DAMN CIRCUITS!!! YOU MAKE IT SEEM LIKE ITS NOT A BIG DEAL!??!!?! AND YOUR MOST LATEST ONE BEING FOR PRACTICE?! FUCKING HELLO?! LOOKS LIKE A FULL MASTERPIECE TO ME!!!

SO IN RETURN IM GIVING YOU FANART OF YOURSELF WITH ME FUCKING TEASING YOU!!! BITE ME!

@coralalala64

Youuuuuuuu........

Your damn angst almost every FREAKING TIME feels like you are personally putting your hand through my chest and yanking out my heart and squeezing it like it's a damn squeaker from a squeaky toy!

STOP BREAKING MY DAMN HEART!!!!!

YOU ARE SO STUPIDLY TALENTED AND ITS DRIVING ME INSANE WITH ALL THE WORK YOU DO!!!!

Keep up the good work but if I see another angst post anytime soon I'm going to implode and I'm taking you with me. /J

Okay that's all of you!

But yeah, hi all you lovely creators! You all are big inspirations of mine and I adore all your works in a unique way. Plenty of the things you all create have inspired me within my own art and series Change in Script! You guys are honestly amazing!

I can't wait to see what you all continue to create within or outside of the SMG4 community!

[rekino2114]

can you do fem denji x male reader

Fem. Denji getting jealous

A/n:normally for a genderbent post I'd change the name to a feminine version of it but I can't think of anything for denji so it stays like that, also credit to x.zora.k on Instagram for the art.

"Look at that bitch, shamelessly flirting with my man"

"You can't even hear what they're saying"

You and denji were on a date (aki came along to make sure she behaved) when a girl she didn't recognized approached you and started talking to you, apparently you knew her so you two started walking away and talking with each other, which made your girlfriend very very angry.

"I don't need to, look at how she's acting, she's definitely flirting with him"

"I think she's just being friendly"

"As if, I know flirting when I see it"

"Like I said, you can't even hear it"

Denji ignored aki's words and started glaring even deeper at the girl

"What is it?"

".......my bobbs are bigger than hers right?"

"............I'm leaving"

"IT WAS A GENUINE QUESTION, I can't let her take y/n from me"

"And that's what you care about?"

"Obviously"

"*sighs* I need a cigarette"

"You can go get one if you want I'll just-.....*gasp* OK THAT'S ENOUGH"

The chainsaw hybrid was one step away from pulling the string on her chest before being stopped by aki.

"Stop. What happened?"

"DIDN'T YOU SEE THAT? SHE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND, THAT'S WAY TOO FAR"

"That's still no reason to try and kill her"

"B-but what if she's a devil trying to gain his trust to kill him"

"I find it highly unlikely, but go ahead if you want just know that I won't object to any punishment miss makima decides to give you"

"Ugh- fiiiine"

The blonde girl couldn't do anything but groan while waiting that you finished your conversation (while aki went away to not deal with whatever was about to happen)

"Hey babe, sorry if I took too long, we can continue our date now"

"You expect me to act as if nothing happened? You ditch me just to go hang out with some flat chested slut?"

".......she's my sister"

"And I'm not finished yet if you-........wait what?"

"Yeah, she came to Japan without telling me, it's been over two years that I don't see her so I just got so excited, I'm really sorry for what I did though, I should have prioritized you"

"N-no it's fine I should have been more trusting of you"

"Oh were you jealous?"

"Heck yeah I was, she was holds your hand, I should be the only girl allowed to do that.....I-I mean except family members I guess"

You giggled and approached your girlfriend then held both her hands in yours

"Is this better?"

"Yeah thanks"

"I think I know one way to make you realize you're the only girl I love"

You kissed her deeply and after a moment of surprise denji melted into the kiss not letting your mouth go for a while.

"Shit, that felt good, alright you're forgiven"

"I'm glad, how about a cuddle session to make it up to you even more"

"Yay cuddles!"

You held her hand and you started walking together, denji put her head on your shoulder to admire you with a bit of guilt in her eyes.

"Hey, sorry for earlier again, I wanted a boyfriend for so long, so when I got you, I guess I was scared of losing you"

"It's fine, jealousy is totally normal...... just don't insult my sister again"

"Yeah, dont worry......My bobbs really are bigger, though."

"*chuckle* you never change, but I guess that's one of the reasons why I love you"

Denji nuzzled into your shoulder and closed her eyes feeling the warmth of your words seep into pochita

"I love you too"