#literature will be fine: don't worry

[obstinatecondolement]

There's this bullet journal YouTuber who I watch on and off (mostly off because she favours the heavily aesthetic style of bullet journaling that intimidates me) but she mentioned off-hand in a video that she includes stuff about any media she's read/watched/listened to/etc. in her reading journal, and I think that's so refreshing. To just flat out be writing little reviews of movies and TV shows and video games in your reading journal in the current reading culture war we're in where people are getting pillioried on social media for not reading enough, or only reading fic, or only reading YA, or only reading "trashy" books, or [insert thing to be snobby about here], is such a great reframing.

I don't think books are "only" entertainment, but I don't think movies and TV shows are either, and also there is nothing wrong with just reading for fun instead of for your intellectual or moral edification. Hell yeah, let's value all types of media enough to write notes to ourselves about what we thought about them!

[nonokoko13]

This is how dead fish looks like

[scoobysnakz]

Older

||* Maybe it's because he's safe and keeps you warm in times or need. Or maybe it's because he has those unruly salt and pepper hair and worry lines. Either way, you want him and maybe he wants you.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

pt2

||* dilf!miguel, vaginal fingering, praise kink, eye contact, perv!miguel, college-age reader, lap sitting, slight hair pulling, one shot, Daddy issues, Dom/sub, smut written by a virgin, not proof read

You're young. And oblivious. So painfully oblivious.

At first, Miguel had just assumed it was a defence mechanism. Don’t give them a reaction and they’ll leave you alone. But the more you smile at the guys flirting with you, the more you lean into their non-platonic hugs, the more certain he becomes that you’re just unaware.

And- in all honesty- he's jealous. He doesn't want to feel the shame that weighs down on his shoulders each time your expression softens at his praise. He doesn't want to feel guilt for watching your hips sway as you walk away. He doesn't want to be like them but he craves the audacity to leer at you in broad daylight.

Maybe it's his morals or maybe it's because he's a coward.

Either way, you’re young and oblivious. And deep down, he loves it.

It's worse in HQ, these men are meant to have morals, good morals, and yet they treat you like a fuckdoll to the eyes.

Your perfect, untouched, college body just for them to perv at.

And Miguel hates it. He hates how he has to ignore your pretty eyes staring up at him as he talks, how he has to scold every Spiderman for being a pervert, and he hates how he's just as bad.

Maybe if you weren't so bubbly sweet he wouldn't have to spend each night palming himself to the thought of your perky body, every shower spurting his hot cum on the misty glass and every moment alone with his office with the doors locked and hand muffling his moans.

“Migs?” that nickname, that only you can use, that only you dared to think of.

He turns to face you, a lazy smile drawn across his painfully perfect lips. “Princessa?” And you immediately try to hide the blush that threatens to bloom on your cheeks.

You hold out your hands, a tray holding a ‘spidey spectacular’ on top. In reality, it's nothing spectacular- a beef burger with barbecue sauce, large fries and a medium drink.

“Got you some lunch,” you grin.

He hops down from his podium, cringing at how your body tenses at the loud thud. “Why?” his tone is harsh, cold, forced.

He knows why. You care, you check in on him when no one else does, you randomly ask him if he's drinking more water than coffee that day, if he actually went to sleep the night previous- unknowing to the thoughts of you that kept him up.

“You haven't eaten today,” you stick your arms out, a playful smile on your face and he doesn't ask how you know. You just do, “and you can't capture those nettlesome anomalies on an empty stomach!”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Nettlesome?”

You laugh, a soft one that makes his core ache with need. “My literature professor has permanently engrained fancy words into my brain.” your shocking professor. Probably some perv who keeps you behind to help you with your tests and oggles at your perfectly shaped ass when you bend over to pick up a pen.

And a painful reminder that as mature as you may be, you’re still young. 18 years too young.

He takes the burger from the tray, gaze lingering on the second as he tries to decide if it's for him or not.

“I’m eating with you,” you answer his question without him asking.

“No, princessa.”

You huff at him, soft, rounded lips falling into a pout. It's a habit you've made- bringing him lunch and sitting with him to make sure he's actually eating the food you've bought no matter how hard he protests.

“Fine. I won't eat with you, I'll just sit and stare and probably piss you off,” you smile smugly at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, turning away from you and throwing the paper from the burger in the bin.

You hum in response, not even caring for his grouchy attitude because it doesn't bother you. Because you're young, and you don't understand how men work yet.

He pulls himself up to his podium, glowing red webs dangling from the large metal disk where you soon follow.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

You pull yourself close to him, hand resting just between his thigh and yours. So soft and delicate and he wants to ruin the innocence within them. Wants to see your dainty fingers wrapped around his cock, wants to see how you use those digits inside of yourself while- hopefully- thinking of him.

“How’s school?” he feels like an awkward uncle at an even more awkward Christmas party. Is this what it's come to? Him having to ask about your college life because that's your main focus because you’re young… er.

A small scoff escapes you, and you immediately cover up with a cough.

“I’m not seven,” you tease, hand held out to shove him but you immediately withdraw it which makes him frown.

“You look it.” it's your turn to frown.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“You’re an ass,” you fold your arms across your chest, nose scrunching in feigned irritation.

Miguel clicks his tongue at you, head cocking to the side in disapproval. “Language, princessa.”

You mutter a feeble “sorry”, a forced waver to your voice that makes him chuckle lightly.

You turn your head to face him, his dark, almost curls illuminated by the neon orange of his numerous monitors. His eyes meet yours, deep maroon paralysing you in place, peeking fangs slowing your breathing, chiselled features pinking your cheeks.

And you smile. A sickly sweet, beautifully innocent smile. Any other person would look away, grow red with shame, and maybe say something embarrassing. But you? You just smile.

Because you're painfully naive.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“Really?” you turn your head to face him, neck craned back so he gets a perfect view of your soft skin. “Do I look seven?”

Of course, you don't look seven. You look twenty, which you are. But you're mature and not in a creepy way. No one else would think twice about seeing if he's okay, and no adult would have their panties organised by colour like you do either.

The sound of his chewing eventually fills the bleak room. You can see him looking straight ahead through your peripheral.

“No.”

“A man of few words,” you grin.

“A girl of far too many.”

You aren't a girl. You’re a woman. You don't spend time chasing boys, you enjoy literature, and you have your whole life planned out. Kids don't do the things you do. Kids don't want a life with a decent man, with him.

“School’s boring,” you cut through the silence, voice soft, quiet, shy.

Relief washes over him like the first rainfall in the Sahara. He swallows- quickly, and brings his attention back to you- not that it ever really left you.

“It shouldn't be, you're smart, princessa, and if your professors are doing their job you should be engaged with their subjects,” he hates that he sounds so parental and demanding when he speaks to you but it's like a default setting. He expects the best from you because he knows you can achieve it.

You scoff and this time you don't bother hiding it at all. “Thanks,” you mutter dryly, “I’ll keep being smart and then school will be more exciting.”

He grimaces at your dull tone. He's used to your sparkly side, the smiles and the giggles and now you're acting your age, all attitude and sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant,” he groans, his voice harsher than before.

“What did you mean then, Miguel?” you press on.

“I meant that you're smart enough to entertain yourself, unlike other people.”

And in its own strange way, his ‘complisult’ makes you smile. He sees who you are, that you aren't some immature child.

It feels nice not being viewed as a child for once. A slow, steady warmth travels through you. He's being nice to you, not a rare occurrence but uncommon enough to mean something.

Slowly, you edge your hand closer to his, fingers gently nudging against his own. You pause for a moment, knowing you’re pushing it and waiting for his reaction but when he doesn't pull away you give his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks,” your gentle voice making his cock harden beneath his suit, “in its own way, that was sweet.”

And you grin at him again. Soft lips beaming up at his plain expression as he tries not to think about how badly he needs some relief.

Against his better judgment, he squeezes your hand back. And the soft, nervous, almost squeak that escapes you makes it all worthwhile.

“It’s true. When I went to your universe,” not to jack off while you shower, “I saw your study notes. You work hard, princessa, and it's good, admirable,” hot.

All your life you be craved words so sweet. Someone to tell you that all those years of dedication to being the best and coming second is too, better than good. Someone to tell you that when they saw your study notes they didn't see you as dumb you have to revise but studious enough to want the best.

You don't even think twice about him being in your universe, just putting it down to an anomaly or another perfectly innocent reason.

He can smell it again, that dopamine rush. You pull yourself closer to him, taunting him unknowingly and let your head rest on his shoulder.

You do this often, allow yourself to lean against him, intertwine your fingers with his, plant endearing kisses to his stubbly cheeks when he helps you out. And you do it so secretly that it's almost sexual but the innocence you perform these acts with makes it feel painfully platonic.

All he can do is ride out this moment of pure torment. Cock stiff and thighs burning.

Deep down he knows he shouldn't be like this, savouring your innocence that he can so easily capture on cameras he can use later. You're so pure, sacred almost, that it feels wrong to even have his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Migs?” that nickname that only you get to use because if he gets to call you princessa its only fair.

Your hand slips off of his and moves to rest on his thigh. “Migs?” you say a little louder this time. He hums dully.

“Princessa?”

Sometimes you wonder if he knows how wet his voice makes you. The low rumble that passes through his chest, the silky smooth movements of his lips, the slight tinge of an accent that makes your cunt flutter.

You let your thumb travel over the ridges of his fingers, smooth over the peaks of his knuckles.

His hand is so big compared to yours, something that the two of you haven't ignored.

He wonders how the rest of you feels, past the tight lycra of your suit as it covers your wrists, against the fresh cotton of his bedsheets, flush against his chest.

The dull humming of the monitors accompanied by your heavy breathing and the subtle whirring of the random machinery warms up the silence between the two of you.

You shift yourself to face him, pretty lips pursed and brow furrowed.

Maybe it's because he's so safe right now. Or maybe it's because you failed your paper and his praise is all you need. But he looks painfully handsome.

Broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Soft lips parted in hunger. The sea of deep sepias and carmines that is his eyes.

Miguel has always been there for you. Well, maybe not always, but often enough. Your roommates being assholes? You can sleep at HQ. Suit ripped? He’ll make you a new one.

And in this moment, you can't see past that. He may be older, grey strands peppering his umber locks and worry lines framing his features, but that doesn't matter.

So you lean up close to him, faces inches apart. Just to smell him, just to see him, just to be near him, just to feel him.

He flinches at first, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. His gaze runs up and down your figure, trying to figure out what you're doing, your innocent expression leaving far too much up for interpretation.

For a moment the two of you just stare at each other, arousal burning white-hot in your core and bodies thrumming with desire.

A calloused hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you closer. Miguel lets out a low sigh, hot breath tickling your face and making your nose scrunch in a way that can only be described as perfect.

Your breathing slows and your heart hammers. He's so close, soft lips just within reach.

“Can I?” his voice is almost a croak, a desperate plea.

He can't tear his eyes away from your quivering lips. He wants to feel them against his own, taste you, have your mouth in his possession.

You don't get time to finish your feeble “please” before he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's soft at first, the two of you gradually warming to the sensation of each other. But when you let out a soft sigh something inside him switches. All morals and guilt go completely out the window and his senses are filled with you.

His tongue probes hungrily at your lips, seeking access to the warmth of your mouth and you happily agree. His hands slide down to your hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh crudely hidden beneath your suit.

“Need you,” you groan, hands gripping his chest with desperation. He silences you with another kiss, tongue immediately attacking yours, too impolite, too hard, too impatient to wait for your sanction.

He's blinded by lust, a desire that's been building up inside him for too long. His arm snakes to the small of your back, protruding talons catching on the material of your suit. He pulls you into his lap and you nearly gasp at the sensation of his erection brushing against your clothed cunt.

You lean back slightly so you can look at him, chest rising and falling with each pant. “Say something,” you pout, his mutism making your head swarm with confusion, “let me hear your voice.”

The neediness of your tone makes him smile, a boyish, cheeky one that makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you want me to say?” he questions, fingers tracing up and down the bridge of your spine.

“Just… talk me through it,” you pause, cunt fluttering and thighs tensing, “it’s my first time,” you admit quietly. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It's something you've never admitted, viewing virginity as a burden more than the blessing men do.

“Who said I'm gonna fuck you?”

Oh.

You purse your lips, your smile faltering and skin prickling with embarrassment as you fidget on his lap. His cock strains against his suit, hips threatening to buck up when you unintentionally grind against him.

You look down and a smirk forms on your face. You press the heel of your palm against his erection, eyes widening with arousal at the whine that escapes him. “This did.”

You swear that for a moment you can see a glint of red in his eyes, much darker, meaner, than his usual cool mahogany.

“Don't,” he grunts, hand gripping your wrist.

The excited grin on your face brings him back. He can't do this to you. He can't take your innocence, be the one to steal what makes you so pure. He's done things he's ashamed of, killed, lied, hated. He isn't deserving of the sweet bliss that’s you.

Your lips fall into a disappointed pout. Have you done something wrong? Maybe you’ve been too eager?

“I… I'm sorry?” you pose your apology as a question, unsure of what's actually going on. You’re inexperienced but this… this isn't normal.

“No, mierda, no, princesa,” and his hands back on your cheek, thumb tracing over the curve of your vermillion. “No digas lo siento.” your brow furrows in confusion but he doesn't elaborate.

He wants to ruin you, corrupt your pretty pussy with his hot cum and watch it seep out in think dribbles before he can stuff it back in with his fingers. But he can't.

That sweet innocence in your eyes, lashes fluttering with arousal from a simple kiss. He can't do this to you.

“Look at me,” he commands and on instinct, your eyes meet his.

“Good Girl,” he croons.

“I'm confused, Migs,” you push his hand off your cheek softly, head cocked to the side, “you’re confusing me.”

He brings a hand to your cunt and he cups it, the heel of his palm digging into your cunt. “Let me do this instead, hmm?” you nod in agreement, head too fuzzy with the strange mixture of arousal and bewilderment to even process the jolt of pleasure that shot down your spine.

The sound of ripping draws your attention down to your arousal-slick folds but he clicks his tongue. “Eyes on me, chica,” his tone is slightly harsher now but his eyes are still warm.

You don't know what he's doing. If he's coming or going. If he's teasing you or allowing this to go further.

“Mi-” he presses his index finger to your lips, not that he needed more than his intense gaze to silence you.

“You said this is your first time?” you nod again.

“No one else has touched you?” his fingers part the tear in your suit, your damp panties on show for him.

“No one.”

His thumb starts to slowly circle your cotton-clothed clit eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princessa?”

Your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs but he doesn't flinch. A sharp talon nips at your weeping bud and you nearly cry. It sends a jolt of pain fused with sickly sweet pleasure coursing through your veins. “Asked you a question didn't I?”

You nod your head again, not knowing how to answer.

“Use your words.”

Your cunt is dribbling its juices all down your thighs- and he can smell it. His mouth is practically drooling at the scent it your arousal. He's trying so hard not to rip your suit all the way and split you open with his cock. But you're gentle, soft, sweet, delicate. So he has to be as well.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you nod your head again, “I want you to touch me, Miguel.”

“Muy bein, princessa,” his thumb slips under the waistband of your panties and comes to rest on your clit but he doesn't stimulate you. Just leaves it resting on the hardened nub.

You whine at the lack of friction, hips trying to grind against his hand but his free hand holds you down.

“Migs, please,” you know you sound pathetically needy but you don't care. The man you've been lusting after since he first recruited you has his hand in your pants.

“Then keep looking at me,” he instructs, “wanna see your pretty face. Can you do that for me?” he grins at the twitching in your cunt caused by his words. That's all the confirmation he needs.

His thumb begins its slow pattern around the hood of your clit while his other hand rests on your waist, keeping you planted firmly on his lap. And maybe so you can feel how big he is.

His hands are surprisingly gentle. You've seen him kill before, seen the plethora of blood he can draw from someone with one fell swoop. Yet he's always been so careful with you, right now being no exception. Maybe that's what’s drawn you to him, the idea of him viewing you as something so sacred that he can't bring himself to damage your fragile body.

The tedious speed he's using is purposefully slow. He wants to draw this out for as long as possible, keep you a squirming mess on his lap, your sweet nectar running down to his thighs. But you want more; you’re too shy to ask for it but you want it.

You press your lips to his again, tongue slipping into his mouth almost sloppily. He's taken aback at first by your sudden burst of confidence but he doesn't protest. The hand that was resting in your hip moves to the back of your head to press you deeper into the kiss.

You whine hungrily and he rewards you with a faster pace. Your thighs clench around him, not actually expecting your plan to work. Your eyes flutter for a moment but he grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

“Princessa, I'll stop,” his warning is heed enough.

Your mind’s a foggy blur of arousal and pure bliss. He keeps toying with your clit, slowing down when your gaze falters but speeding up and rewarding you if you've kept eye contact.

“Please, I'll be good, so good for you,” you mewl, craving his kind words of praise again.

“Will you? Will you let me see those pretty lips of yours smile so sweetly for me while I make you feel good?” you nod your head excessively, mumbled “yes I will”’s and “good for you”’s spilling from your lips.

The hot coil of pleasure tightens with each flick of his distal. More and more sweet moans spew from your loose hanging mouth which are just music to his ears. Your leaky hole clenches around nothingness but you're too shy to ask for more. Miguel’s thumb is good enough but what you really crave is that hard cock that's pushing up against your stomach.

Soft, sticky clicking sounds mellow in the warmth of the rooms atmosphere, arousal blending in smoothly along with the scent of your nearing climax. He can sense it, your hips stuttering and your nails digging into the meat of his chest. But he can't let you go just yet.

“Hold it for me,” its a command, not a request.

You bite your lower lip, eyes nearly watering as you try you hardest to hold back. Your poor cunt throne needily while it continues to pump hot juices all over his hand. “I-I don't know how,” you blubber, thighs trembling and hands twitching.

Your body runs white hot with pleasure while your mind teeters on the edge of climax.

“I know you can, be a good girl, princessa,” he pressed earnestly, two-toned lips falling into that signature smirk.

You let your head come to rest in the crook of his neck. He flinches at the warmth of your breath and grabs the back of your hair roughly. You whine at the sharp tug but don't protest further.

“Fuck did I tell you ‘bout looking away?” his voice is almost harsh but you don't care. Your whole body is tingling with so much euphoria, blood pumping hot with pleasure, that you don't even care about his talon catching on your clit.

You’re so close to cumming, to reaching that paradise he's dangling in front of you like a carrot on a stick. “Let me, I-i can't, Migs.”

He frowns.

Once you're done that's it. He has to let you go, push off his lap and keep you at arm's length. But he can't bring himself to do that, get rid of your warmth and tiny frame.

“Migs? Please, let me…” you cut yourself with a silent moan.

Your mouth falls slack, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed. Warmth washes over you, trickling down your spine like honey from a jar. And for a moment you think you've gone deaf because Miguel’s lips are moving but you can't figure out what he's saying.

Your arousal spills from your cunt and all the way down his hands in a warm, blanketing trinket of your pleasure.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment but lets you ride out your high with his thumb remaining on your pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking in a way that only makes his cock harden.

“Mmmm, did my princessa enjoy herself?” you look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust.

Your orgasm took enough energy for you to be exhausted now. You can barely lift your head let alone reply to him. When you try to smile your eyes just roll back slightly, your lashes fluttering and your nose scrunching.

You’ve come before, plenty of times, but this feels different. This time it feels all warm and gooey like it's going to stick to you forever. Maybe it's because it's Miguel’s fingers instead of your own toying with your cunt or maybe it's because you got to hold onto him. Either way, you've just cum all over his hands and can't form a proper sentence now.

Miguel smiles down at you, revelling in your blissed-out expression. Knowing that he's drawn this pleasure from you makes his insides churn.

“Pretty Girl,” he coos, hand smoothing your spine, “so pretty for me, hmm? Cumming just from me playing with her pretty pussy.” as if to prove a point, he spreads your sticky folds open with his thumb two middle fingers, a soft gooey sound catching your attention.

“Wonder if your cunt is just as pretty?” be slides a harsh finger inside with a grunt, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, “want me to fuck your tight hole, princessa?”

And you nod. Too fucked out, too tired, too needy, too in love with him without either of you knowing it yet, to push him away.

[ofourlee]

megumi x reader

you and megumi were like "🤞" you were constantly together. at the school canteen, on the school roof, or wherever. any group projects that need pairs? you and megumi. you two are virtually inseparable.

they say "puppy love," but you had no idea what you were to megumi. he doesn't know what he is to you either. in short, you're simply two ignorant high school students, worried that if one of you confess, the friendship will become uncomfortable. you couldn't risk anything, right?

while you're busy delivering hints to megumi, he's being oblivious and indifferent. (as if he isn't also head over heels for you.) ugh. is he too stupid to understand? or is he simply choosing not to see? you didn't know.

megumi enjoyed taunting you. he always got under your skin. but who are you to complain if you've fallen for him? he was always so chatty when he was with you; it was like a never-ending conversation between the two of you.

you two were polar opposites. you enjoy romantic comedies, romantic animes, romantic literature, anything romantic, and kittens. he enjoys action movies, informational books, sports, and dogs. but hey, opposites attract, right?

as you two walked home together, as usual. the rain began to fall hard.

he glances up at the sky, a little groan escaping his lips as he notices the black clouds accumulating above.

"crap…it started raining suddenly, didn't it?" he mutters, his tone tinged with frustration and resignation as he looks around for cover.

as you both seek cover, he notices children playing in the rain.

he looks out at the children playing in the rain, a tiny grimace on his face.

"those kids are going to catch a cold, playing around in this weather," he mutters, shaking his head in distaste. despite his initial displeasure at being caught in the rain, he can't help but feel a tinge of youthful jealousy as he watches the youngsters play and giggle freely in the rain.

"aw, but they look so cute. i used to play in the rain when i was little." you burst out.

"you played in the rain? seriously?" he says, his tone alternately mocking skepticism and dismay. he finds it difficult to envision you, who is normally so collected and put together, playing in the rain like a carefree child.

"yeah! you don't?"

he shakes his head, a little sneer coming from his lips.

"no, definitely not. I've never played in the rain," he says, his tone scornful and condescending. he can't fathom himself willingly getting wet and muddy, let alone enjoying it.

"gumi, that's kinda sad." you mutter.

he recognizes the real disappointment on your face and feels guilty about his harsh reaction.

"what? It's not that sad. i mean, it's just rain. why would anyone want to play in it?" he attempts to explain, his tone defensive as he dismisses his lack of childhood rain memories.

"why do you always have to be a moodkiller?" you asked him.

as he hears your charge, he sighs, his tone tinged with irritation and resignation. it is not the first time he has been labeled a'mood killer' by someone.

"i'm not trying to ruin the mood or anything; i just don't see the point in getting all wet and muddy," he says, with a tinge of defensiveness in his tone.

"you know what? whatever. you can stay here."

he raises an eyebrow at your remark, expressing surprise and unhappiness with your tone.

"what, really? you're going to go play with the kids or something?" he says, his tone alternating between amusement and irritation. he can't tell if you're sincere or simply attempting to get under his skin.

as you lay your bag down, you say, "the rain is extra heavy, and that's a rare occasion, so I'm not passing up the opportunity. stay here if you still refuse."

he observes as you drop your bag on the floor and get ready to walk out in the rain again. he is filled with irritation and resignation, and your insistence makes him roll his eyes.

"fine, go have your fun in the rain if you're so damn eager," he says, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.

"oh, i will!" you protested.

he watches with surprise and subtle adoration as you move away from the gazebo's protection and gladly allow the rain to soak through your clothes.

he can't understand how someone could find delight in something as simple as getting drenched in rain, yet he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy for your carefree and unconcerned nature.

"woooow!! this is so fun!" you shouted.

"are you sure you don't want to join me, gumi?" you try to persuade him again.

he pauses for a while, conflicted between his customary snarky and distant demeanor and a slight flutter of curiosity that he can't seem to ignore. he sees you twirling around in the rain, your laughter filling the air, and something in his chest tightens.

with a slight huff of resignation, he murmurs beneath his breath, "oh, what the hell…"

he rises up and walks out into the rain to join you.

"yay!" you screamed again.

he attempts to keep his normal cool and controlled exterior, but he can't help but feel a slight pleasure when the cool raindrops touch his skin. he looks across at you, his normal poker mask breaking slightly when he sees your delighted grin.

"you know, you're crazy," he mutters, a sneer forming at the corners of his lips.

"see? it's not so bad, right?" you try to comfort him.

he can't help but acknowledge that there's something wonderfully liberating about standing in the rain and letting the water wash over him, washing away his worries for a time.

"i suppose it's not as bad as i thought," he confesses, letting out a tiny sigh of despair. "but I'm definitely getting a cold now, thanks to you."

as you stand in the rain, you can't help but notice his wet face. his nose, long lashes, and plump lips.

he sees your stare, and his cheeks warm slightly as he thinks how he must appear right now, with his hair and clothes soaked from the rain and water droplets sticking to his eyelashes and skin.

"what…what are you looking at?" he says, his tone guarded and embarrassed.

"do i look like I'm looking at your hands?" you ask simply.

he flushes even more, startled and perplexed by your remark.

"what? no, that's not what I meant. i just… " he fumbles over his words, his typical calm sliding as he attempts to come up with a solution.

"you're so cute, megs."

the rain continues to pour hard, chilling the air and reminding him of the gravity of the situation.

"we're… we're going to catch a cold, you know. drenched like this, in the rain." he adds, earning him a mournful expression from you.

he softens as you make a disappointed look, his concern for your well-being taking precedence over his previous sentiments.

"hey, don't look so sad," he says, his tone a blend of sympathetic reassurance and kind reprimand.

"i'm just saying, you don't want to get sick, do you? i can't have you sneezing and coughing all over the place."

"but," you begin. "but i still haven't tried kissing you under the rain yet…"

there were a few seconds of stillness. seconds turn into minutes. he was speechless, and so were you.

you didn't realize what was going through your mind after saying that. you don't seem to hear yourself at all. but you can't let this opportunity pass, right?

he waits for a bit while a concept forms in his thoughts. he looks at you, his eyes skimming your wet form once again, the contours of your body plainly apparent beneath the clinging fabric of your shirt. his heart flutters again as he struggles with his own need and discipline.

a few moments later, he finally speaks up. "so, you really want to… you know, kiss in the rain?" he inquires, his voice low and little huskier than normal.

your eyes brightened. "yeah! it's like experiencing rom-coms in real life."

he gives a little, delighted giggle at your excitement.

"only you would think something like this is like a scene from a rom-com. you really do live in your own world sometimes, don't you?"

despite his remarks, he admits that the prospect of kissing you in the rain is strangely appealing. a chill goes down his spine as he imagines the feelings and emotions that would accompany it.

"yes, it is!" you protest.

he rolls his eyes again, but his lips show a trace of a grin.

"i should have known. you probably watched a dozen rom-coms recently and now you're craving some romantic experience you can reenact."

he can't help but notice how your clothing clings to your body, and the sight causes his thoughts to blank for a few seconds. he swallows hard, his eyes reflexively tracing your figure's contours and lines, which are clearly delineated by the moist cloth. he swears beneath his breath, and his cheeks flame up again.

"i… um, yeah, I know you love rom-coms and all. you love any kind of cheesy, romantic stuff like that."

he attempts to remain composed, but his gaze is drawn to your physique, the moist shirt giving little room for imagination. his thoughts are a jumble of yearning, restraint, and a hint of humor at your penchant for romantic clichés.

"so, uhh, you really want to do this, huh? kiss in the rain. like a scene straight out of a rom-com."

"yes, i want to."

he lets out a sigh, a combination of despair and exhilaration running through his veins. in this moment, he can't seem to refuse your demands; your passion is too contagious for him to ignore.

"fine, fine… you win. we'll kiss in the rain. just like some cliche romantic scene you've watched in a dozen movies."

you were overjoyed right then.

the rain continues to pour steadily, creating a continual background noise that adds to the intensity of the scene. he takes a step closer to you, narrowing the distance between your bodies. his gaze settles on your face, then gently moves down to your lips, which are slightly parted in anticipation.

"are you sure you really want to do this? right here, in the rain? it's kind of cliché, don't you think?"

ugh. he wouldn't stop talking.

"just shut up and kiss me already."

with that, he draws you in closer, his hands softly resting on your hips, the moist fabric of your shirt on his fingertips.

his breaths are short and ragged, and his heart races in his chest. he leans closer, his stare fixed on your lips, a mix of eagerness and something more whirling through his dark eyes.

"you're really something else, you know that? demanding to be kissed in the rain like it's some romantic movie moment. but I guess it sort of is, isn't it? In a—"

you've decided you've had enough. you held his face and kissed him yourself.

he's taken aback by your unexpected gesture, but he soon relaxes into the kiss, his eyelashes fluttering close as he responds to your lips. his hands tighten around your hips, drawing you closer to him, and his tongue reaches for yours, the taste of rain mingling with the kiss. his head is filled with sensations, the sound of rain merging with the hammering of his heart and the feel of your body on his.

he deepened the kiss, his tongue entwined with yours, the flavor of you feeding his mounting hunger. his body is pressed close against yours, the moist fabric of your shirt on his chest, and the heat of your skin through the thin cloth causes his thoughts to wander.

he pulls away for a minute to gather his breath before returning your look, his eyes darkened with desire and a hint of astonishment at your entrance.

you giggle to yourself. dammit! you finally touched those lips for the first time.

he gives out a breathless chuckle at your reaction, his hands remaining firmly on your hips, bringing you close to him.

"that good, huh? you couldn't wait to kiss me so bad." he adds, his voice somewhat cocky as he attempts to control his rapid heart rate. the rain continues to pour around them, and the world appears to have faded away, leaving only the two of them in this moment of closeness and desire.

"that was your fault for always talking."

he huffs in faux indignation of your words, yet there's a smirk on his lips.

"my fault? how is it my fault that you can't wait for me to finish talking before pouncing on me and kissing me?" there he goes again.

he pecks your lips one more time before pulling away, catching you off guard. what are we, megumi? you think to yourself

as his gaze moves over your face, he notices your features and how the rain has rendered your hair somewhat unkempt and your clothing cling to your body.

suddenly, your attention was drawn to the dog, who was also in the rain and playing by himself. you petted him.

he looks at you with a mix of astonishment and enjoyment as you quickly switch your focus to the dog, a faint giggle escaping his lips.

"of course, you'd notice the dog before anything else, even after that kiss."

[lottiesgrl]

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲, 𝗻𝗮𝘁, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲!

cw: n/a

𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗘

*̥˚✧ anthropology major with a minor in media studies (kinda self-indulgent because of the pictures of courtney with her camera...)

*̥˚✧ criminally rich, offers to pay for literally anything you need. textbooks? don't even worry about it. supplies? she's already bought them.

*̥˚✧ also brought her car to campus and has no shame in driving you anywhere and everywhere

*̥˚✧ takes you to the fanciest places around campus, often with little warning. you'll wake up to a message from her offering to take you to a five-star steakhouse that night and you're like ???

*̥˚✧ for all her grand gestures of love, she enjoys more subtler displays of affection, like giving you flowers she finds on walks or writing you love letters

*̥˚✧ looves to study with you - you two have a favorite study spot on campus that's just secluded enough for you two to steal occasional kisses

*̥˚✧ comes to frat parties with you to make sure you're drinking safely (and to occasionally drag your wasted ass back to your dorm)

𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗘

*̥˚✧ undecided but taking courses for like 4 different majors

*̥˚✧ always knows where the best parties on campus and keeps an eye on you the whole time to make sure no assholes are hitting on you

*̥˚✧ bikes everywhere so when she takes you out the two of you have to walk everywhere... that is until she invests in a two-seater so she can ride you to classes and dates

*̥˚✧ you never see her studying but somehow her grades are perfectly fine?? meanwhile you're out here studying 3 hours a day and still can't manage an a in biochem...

*̥˚✧ stealing all her clothes because you like them better than your own. she sees you across campus wearing her leather jacket and texts you to ask how you're enjoying being a thief. she always pretends like she cares but they look better on you anyways

*̥˚✧ you two end up in the same classes and every time you look back at her, she's looking at you

*̥˚✧ asking to come over to "study" but you and her both know it'll end in you making out on her twin xl bed

𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗔

*̥˚✧ english literature major with a minor in woman gender and sexuality studies

*̥˚✧ lives in a single after her plans with jackie fell through and you cannot be more grateful. the one time you made out in your own room, your roommate came in and kicked her out. both of you have since learned your lesson.

*̥˚✧ always in the library; if you need her, chances are she'll be there, face buried into a book

*̥˚✧ loves to walk you to classes, even if it means being late to her own class. those who say chivalry is dead clearly haven't met shauna shipman

*̥˚✧ kevin car-nold did make it to college, but he's a little worse for wear. driving in shauna's car feels like a near death experience every time

*̥˚✧ quality time is incredibly important to shauna. her schedule is often so busy that she cherishes any time the two of you get together

*̥˚✧ wakes up FREAKISHLY early, and you have no idea how she does it. when you wake up at 7 am for class, she's already wide awake, laptop in her lap, working on coursework

𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗘

*̥˚✧ business major

*̥˚✧ plans her classes so she can spend the most time with you. you're free from one to three? funny, her next class doesn't start until three too! (she planned it that way)

*̥˚✧ takes you out on a million picnic dates. sitting on the quad on her cutesy picnic blanket feeding each other strawberries and she doesn't care who sees

*̥˚✧ if she finds a bug in her dorm, she'll call you over to take it outside, even if you live all the way across campus. and you do it every time

*̥˚✧ survives on sweet treats. she'll pout at you for ten minutes straight if you don't go with her to get a treat after class

*̥˚✧ INCREDIBLY jealous when other people get too close at parties. it's ten times worse when she's wasted. someone could ask you where the bathroom is and she'll be stink eyeing them until you two leave

*̥˚✧ is insistent on living with you off campus later on and has an organized pinterest board for every part of your future space together

[yunohentai]

night lights. warnings: noncon/cnc ?, pervert heeseung, boob guy hee, reader's older (like 2 years?), reader's shy and sophisticated, virgin reader + experienced hee, dumbification, she says no (which is like noncon) but is enjoying it so its cnc, clicking pics and recording sex too ig??, indication of blackmailing towards the end, he masturbates alot. this is like real filth with some wild kinks. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK + minors dni please.

Lee Heeseung has huge secrets, everyone thinks he's a perfect boy with great grades and a promising future ahead... but little do they know. He's the biggest pervert you could come across. Just 19 yet he's obsessed with sex. He lost his virginity at the age of 17 to a 20 year old girl who rode his dick in a huge crowded party. he was so obsessed with the feeling that since then he's been having sex every week, different pussy every time and well he got blessed to have a huge, thick cock which he knew how to use well, oh and his amazing looks... got all the girls on his dick, ready to let him ruin them.

While you, Y/F/N... knows only the main thing. 'Sex is done to reproduce.' without too much of an idea, and neither you've ever felt any "dark" desire. Innocent little sweetheart who is focused on building up a career and leading a stable life. You love shopping, studying English literature and posting on Instagram. Your tits are so huge. It's as if your tits are honey and boys are bees, they want you and your body so much... but you don't wanna give it up.

Heeseung and you were in the same college but have never crossed ways until today. You were wearing a sage green dress till your knee, which showed alot of your cleavage, your sister always bought you outfits like those in hopes you'll finally have a boy in your life.

You were on your way to class while reading through your 'Wuthering Heights' notes quickly, not noticing your way as you bumped into a guy, falling on top of him. It was obviously none other than, Heeseung. It was a very bad collision. You fell in his lap, your arm hurting as he just stared at you with his mouth wide open, eyes on the main attraction, the huge tits that were almost slipping out of the dress.

Unknowingly his hand moved towards your chest, fixing your dress as you gasped softly and looked into his eyes. he felt your cleavage and the softness made him harden a little as he got up and helped you up too. "I'm so sorry." he apologized and bowed, eyes stuck on your milky white legs. "I'm sorry too! Please forgive me!" you felt really shy and guilty as you bowed, your breasts coming all out again as he moaned lowly and made you stand straight again, "hey it's fine. anyways, I'm heeseung. Freshman." you smiled at him while fixing your dress.

That fucking smile. His heart fluttered, and butterflies filled all of his stomach and he smiled too. "I'm Y/n, Junior." he nodded his head as her cheeks burned with shyness. "I hope we become friends." he winked and walked away, leaving you a mess because of how well that handsome boy treated you and even cared about how your dress revealed your private parts! so considerate!!

He had left straight for the bathroom as he then sat in cubicle, gasping to himself. " Oh wow" he said to himself as he then started wanking, he couldn't help thinking of her. Heeseung tries to use his negative emotions like, anger and all because he works his ass off all the time. So he mostly channels those emotions sexually, kinda hot.

~ ~ ~

The day had ended as you were by your locker, putting in your books and taking the one you're gonna study at home. as heeseung came running to you. "Oh my god- listen y/n do you major in English lit. ?" he asked her, acting all worried. as you nodded your head in confusion. "why?" you asked and he leaned on the lockers. "Okay so our teacher is making me get tutored by a very annoying girl so I told him I'll find someone else, and while looking for someone else I saw you. Do you mind?" he told her with a pout on his lips, and the look in his eyes, that could make everyone melt. "Hmm... I'm not that good at it but I can help."

heeseung smiled. " thanks alot!! btw, your number?" he asked with a pretty smile and you nodded while softly blushing as you both exchanged numbers and shook hands.

~ Timeskip to a month or so later ~

You and Heeseung sat in the hallroom of your rented apartment as you helped him out with the freshman English lit syllabus, wearing shorts and sleeve less top that barely kept your tits inside. "Okay let's take a two minute break." you said and took your phone scrolling through your instagram. you were wearing a really soft shade of pink which highlighted your hard nipples because of cold and your cleavage. Heeseung pulled out his phone and subtly clicked alot of pictures of them, from even different angles.

"hey, i'm gonna use the bathroom." he said and you nodded, very busy on your phone as he quitely went towards the bathroom but sneaked into your bedroom. he knew you won't look for him for the next 10 minutes, so he went into your wardrobe for like the 5th time this month and stole another pair of your panties, it was a lacy white one as he sniffed it and moaned. "Like always. even her fucking panties smell heavenly." he said and put it in his pocket as he went back outside.

he was a bit shocked to see you stretching from your spot, your complete breasts visible and ass in the air, as you lazily tried to grab the charger and your earphones. your hard pink nipples rubbed on the wool carpet getting harder as he felt his dick harden, he looked down and saw the boner. he sighed and coughed, making her gasp and sit back up, fixing her clothes. "Are you alright?" he asked and you nodded. "Let-let's get back to work!" you said and he shook his head. "Wait y/n let me help you." he said and smirked, he knew you were gullible and he could atleast get to touch your tits tonight.

He sat down, way closer to you than before. "Straighten your back." you were about to question but he shushed you and you nodded, giving up. You followed his command as he then leaned down, now his face was almost buried in your chest and your eyes widened. "Hees-" he silenced you and grabbed your tits using his hands. "Heeseung stop!" you said in an angry tone. "just let me do it, y/n!" he said and removed your shirt with one hand and held your hands tightly with the other one. he was so ecstatic to finally see the tits.

he hooked his lips on your nipple and started sucking on it aggressively while caressing the other one, you could feel wetness spread down between your legs. Confusion was what you felt, what's happening- why am i loving it..? she let out a string of hot moans as he grew harder and harder, he then sucked her tits really good, the nipples un-hardening slowly. he then pulled away.

"see. that's how they un-harden" he rolled his eyes and you looked into his eyes. "oh... thank you... heeseung.. can we conti-continue?" he shook his head. "I'm going home." you nodded as he left.

you didn't know or understand this feeling between your legs, as you went into your bedroom, touching between your legs and gasping. "Oh god- i'm just gonna sleep-" you gasped and hugged the pillow between your legs falling asleep.

And well in your sleep, you humped that pillow, thinking it's heeseung's thigh. oh your first wet dream!

while heeseung thrusted his dick into your panties, and also wanked himself off, moaning and grunting your name. how you moaned, your scent, the smell of you in the panties, your tits, your innocence, your beauty.. everything turned him on so bad as he grabbed his phone and wanked himself more and faster, watching you boobs.

~ The next week ~

For the full next week you were acting weird. turning red whenever heeseung was around, and not even avoiding him at all, trying to get closer to him. While heeseung enjoyed the attention and continued to secretly steal your panties and click lewd pictures of you.

For example, He dropped his fork down on purpose and went down the table, where you sat with your legs open wide and enjoyed the food as he clicked a photo. Then when you were busy looking for something under your bed, he got a picture of your perfect round ass. Oh and when you thought he was in the bathroom and sheepishly pushed your hand inside your shorts, feeling and caressing her clit. that photo made him feel so fucking turned on. he litreally caught you touching yourself, he thought. And last, when you had left your main door unlocked and he got in, you had taken off your lens and were showering, you didn't even see him when he got the most lewd of all pictures and videos. Photo and video of you squeezing and scrubbing your tits and them bouncing etc.

He was in love with your body and with sexualizing you. He was excited to fuck you and feel your pussy.

Today you went over to heeseung's so you could help him out with the work and studying as his exam was approaching. you wore the tightest and revealing dress today. it was till your thigh and super tight on the breast region making them pop out more. you had no idea why you were doing this but dressing up for him was fun.

you rang the bell and smiled as he opened the door. "hey y/n, welcome" he greeted as you walked in, taking of your jacket and hanging it. heeseung was done with life now, you're wearing a peach dress till your thighs which was flying everywhere because of the fan, showing him your black underwear and the fact your tits were spilling out and your nipples were visible, you weren't even wearing a bra.

he was now almost offended, she acts innocent? and then dresses like that? is she fooling me.. he pushed away the thoughts and led her into his bedroom as the two sat down and today you were helping him finish his sketches for submission. his arm was pressed in the region between your breasts as you led his hand and helped him sketch. "see, that's how you do it. you're bad at this." you said and continued to lead his hand, as your tits then rubbed on his arm.

That. drived him insane, but he held back and decided to play the same game with you. you giggled at his bad drawing and made fun of him. "Oh yeah? You're so mean" He said and started to tickle you as you giggled and fell backwards onto his bed as he was on top of you tickling you while you giggled and bounced. His eyes were stuck on your tits. "OKAY STOP STOP NOW."

He stopped and you looked into his eyes, seeing a certain look on his face which scared you and brought that same feeling between your legs. "Y/n, Can I?" he asked leaning in to kiss you as you let the thoughts leave your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and let him lead.

His hands were next to your head as he softly kissed you, slowly speeding up and biting your lips. His hands ranged lower while touching your thighs and touching you sensually as you made out with while breathing heavily. Soon the reality hit you as you pulled away and tried to push him off of you. "heeseung no no-"

You were resisting him but the soft look in his eye had now been replaced by something darker, something more scary. Chills went down your spine and your pussy fluttered. "Shh" He whispered and started to leave a trail of harsh bites kisses from your chin to your shoulder blade. "I've been waiting for this moment. Don't fuck it up for me."

"Heeseung stop, let me go." you said as a few moans left your mouth too. He rolled his eyes and slapped your face as you gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. With one swift moment he threw everything that was on the bed away and pulled you closer to him.

"Are you nicely gonna take it off or should i tear it off?" He asked as you looked at him with doe eyes hoping he'd stop but the need in your eyes stood out to him more. "Fine." And there was your dress, left only in shred around your thighs.

Your tits fell out with a small bounce as he licked his lip at that view. He shimmied off the shreds and your panties to the side as you tried to stop him, few tears forming in your eyes. I want to feel more.. you thought but tried to kick him off of yourself. "Please stop this!!"

His hand moved between your legs harshly as the other one held you down, he rubbed your clit harshly and waited for your wetness to grow so he could put his fingers inside your walls while you complained and cried. His lips were abusing your tits like an animal, biting, pulling the nipple and kissing them. You were moaning and rubbing your hips against his fingers while he thrusted them harshly.

"It- hurts.." You cried out with your eyes closed and he smiled. "Just the way my dick used to hurt watching you in those tiny clothes love." He said and continued abusing your tits and pussy. The tears weren't there because of disgust or any negative feeling, you were crying because you were actually liking it. You knew your dad would kill you if he found out you consummated before marriage.

He was just there admiring your beauty as you threw your head back and moaned softly to his touches. He moved a bit away and stopped touching you as you looked at him. He was rummaging through his side table cupboard as he pulled out a vibrator. You were confused as you watched his click a button and put it into your pussy. "OH GOD-" you moaned and threw your head back.

He then took off his own clothes and started to rub his tip while watching you get off. "Need to get my dick wet myself because you're too dumb to do it for me." He tsked. He noticed how the area around her breast and her face had turned, there was drowsiness in her eyes. "M-my belly-" you moaned as he then stopped to pull the vibrator out.

"Please stop it heeseung... this isn't r-right" You whispered as his hands moved behind your head, and he grabbed your head by your hair. His lips were inches away from yours as he whispered. "I don't care." and there he was, pushing both of your hands above your head and pushing your legs wide apart.

You could feel it, all too much. Even the smallest of touch and the smallest sound in the nearest area, you could feel it all, hear it all. You closed your eyes tightly, slowly fighting the grip his hand had on your hands while he just slid his penis inside you, your faces inches away as a few more tears fell out of your eyes. "I hate you" You whispered out as you felt rippling pain with his soft motion. "D-DON'T!" Heeseung stares at you as you complain about the slight pain.

"Be a woman, Y/n." He whispered as he slowly started to move, taking his time and let the pain turn into pleasure. The moment it did change, it was too clear. You couldn't protest anymore as your hands moved to his shoulder, scratching and wanting him to increase his speed so bad but no word left your mouth except the moans.

"Fuck. this feels so good. so so good" he panted out like an excited child, but in a deep voice. You could feel the shivers on your back as you shook underneath him, letting your breasts bounce and jiggle with each and every hard thrust. Heeseung continued to pound into you senselessly, his eyes stuck on your breasts well it shifted to see your face twist into a pleasure-ful expression. "Gorgeous"

His hands were free now so they dived lower, rubbing your clit while he moved his hips graciously rubbing against THE stop. You felt these overwhelming feelings for the first time in your life, you knew you could just explode anytime and then there came the tickles in your belly. "My belly!" you gasped as you felt his pace increase, it was indicating your coming orgasm and well also how deep his dick was into you. It could be seen when he thrusted inside. "m-my god-"

"You're all mine now" he smiled, watching his cock create the bulge in your belly, proudly. He groaned when you clenched a little too hard on his dick. It twitched inside of you, as you felt him paint your insides white. That feeling broke your control too as you felt all of your tension and stress evaporate along with the "liquid".

You felt free, but little did you know by putting that small camera right in the correct corner... he might have changed everything, and made sure that you stay with him and only him.

[chocsra]

idk abt others but yes i do eat up every single one of ur hs au bc it's so silly and yes i am looking at you with a chuuya plushie in my hand to ask for a dazai x reader hs au fanfic

✧ "YOU ARE THE CITY OF MY HEART"

☆ synopsis ↺: skipping class with your classmate, dazai yet again. but this time, you explore the ocean of your feelings together.

☆ content ↺: HIGHSCHOOL AU 15ZAI, musical prodigy! dazai, photographer! dazai, introvert! dazai, slightly ooc, fluff

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: UNDERSTAND — keshi

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

you don't think you have ever lived without noise,

ever since you were a kid, you were talked your ear off by your parents, lectured by several adults, and screamed plentifully with friends. when there was silence, there was music to mask it. good or bad noise, it existed, survived, and was a huge part of your life.

but you,

Dazai Osamu, are probably the quietest person you've ever known.

the only sound you could associate with him was the shutter of a camera taking a picture—the same sound you've been continually hearing.

It was a regular school day, both dressed in full uniform, baking under the bright rays of the morning sun. There wasn't anything particularly wrong about this day. you could pick off the reddening leaves from bark-ridden tree branches and soak in the imprint of tree stumps, looking ever so similar to that of a fingerprint. it was a pretty autumn day; you just so happened to get to see that. you think, taking a withering leaf into the palm of your hand.

shutter.

"osamu, stop taking photos of me." —you chide, gently swatting the pointed camera out of view. the brunette in front of you, currently crouching, laughs boyishly as he removes his face pressed against the camera, gaze now overseeing the autumn sight before him. "sorry," dazai whispers, tinkering with a few buttons to review the photos he took. "you don't have to skip class with me, y'know." he murmurs, eyes glued to his camera.

he was a photographer, a pretty one at that. quiet and mysterious, you were rather surprised to learn that a boy reads fine literature and other classical means. sometimes, he picked up a violin or combined delicate fingers to gracefully waltz with a grand piano. his most prized possession was a camera, freezing the most beautiful of the intricacies of nature and people. but who was he? the boy who read books instead of taking notes in lectures, wavy chocolate brown hair that sun rays adored to find a home in, and a tall and slim build fitted in a school uniform and bandages. to capture the slope of his cheek, the deep hazel in hollow irises, and his olive skin. he was Dazai Osamu, a walking mystery.

so, you'd like to know where you stood with him in terms of relationship and if he even likes you at all. skipping class together, sneaking in your window at night, pretending to hang out with friends if it meant seeing him—it didn’t feel like something close friends did, like he was a secret you wanted to keep for yourself. but you couldn’t tell if that greed was reciprocated, if he was bored, or even considered you a close friend, a best friend. but instead of worrying too much, you only watch how his fingers work with a bulky camera, capturing nature's highs and lows.

“i know,” you twiddle with your fingers, grumbling, “class is boring anyway.” the brunette furrows his brows at the photos, brushing your excuse off, “this is shit. i think i’ve taken enough photos around the school.” he groans softly; you could practically hear his creative mind burning in the process. “did you delete the picture of me?” you question, standing over the lanky boy’s crouched form. “no, that one is good. i mean, the actual background, it's all repetitive.”

you tap a finger on your chim, “ahh,” you hum, pretending to understand his perspective. “winter should be here already.” the teenager grumbles under his breath before letting go of the camera to let it hang off his neck. you pace around slowly, feeling the surface of leaves crushing under your heels. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in school if you’re already skipping class.” you mutter, watching as a boyish grin lights up on his face. “you’re right, [y/n]! let’s go!”

a cold hand wraps his fingers around yours before dragging you to the nearest exit—"dazai!” you whine as the brunette drags you, “it’s cooooolllddddd!” you complain, your scarf nearly falling off as you run and run. hand in hand. this rather rushing feeling brings you a taste of memories you barely remember you had.

no one understood Dazai Osamu,

because he was a prodigy, he was something. something big, something great, something that made other geniuses seethe in envy. the boy had extraordinary intellect but a weak mind. no, dazai wasn't weak. he was just always unwell to a certain degree, and to most, it didn't take much to figure out—wearing long sleeves in summer, loving bandages for the comforting feelings even if he didn't need them, and reading books guiding the suicidal. dazai never hid it—that he was unwell, almost like a cry for help.

but for the genius that he was, nobody understood that.

but you did, in seventh grade. you were sniffling, pacing in remnants of snow as tears blurred your vision. though in your hazy field of sight, you outline the figure of one of your classmates approaching you, his tall frame catching the snowflakes from hitting your face. slowly, a boyish voice calls out.

"...are you okay?"

it was dazai, the stone-faced boy and talented prodigy. he wore a black trenchcoat, a little too big for his figure, and covered one of his chocolate brown eyes with bandages. you shook your head, a throbbing pain added from the tinge of snowflakes collecting in your hair. his stoic gaze never left you, standing there in the middle of a snowstorm, crying. the boy himself couldn't muster a feasible reason for walking outside in a snowstorm at this hour, so out of courtesy and a slight tinge of nervousness, he whispered, "let's go for a walk."

suddenly, nimble fingers reach out to grab yours; your fingers are used to originally wipe snot and cover your face. but dazai had no reaction to anything gross like that—like snot and tears. instead, he took shaky fingers into the cold ones of his own, pulling you gently along the sidewalk. you could barely make out his face or your feelings at the moment, only focused on his broad shoulders covered by that raven trench coat, soaking up snowflakes and the well of your tears.

from there, you walked and walked. hand in hand. soon running together with no particular destination—only feeling your body starting to warm up, sore feet clashing against snow, and his hand that never let go of yours.

Dazai Osamu never knew why you were crying, nor did you know what ever went through his head that day.

but from that moment forward,

you understood him.

soon, you were led by that same hand past pretty autumn leaves and into a foresty meadow, closed off from the rest of the world. several forms of wildlife scrapped by, followed by a murky pond under the sun's wake, surrounded by trees of reds and oranges. it perfectly provided what the school's campus couldn't—a sense of divergence reeling in the soft convolutions of your brain. "pretty, isn't it?"—the brunette chimes, panting from the long distance you two ran. "why'd you do that?" you grumble, rubbing your abdomen from an incoming sharp pain, "don't you have asthma?"

he immediately backtracks, shooting you an unamused glare, "that's.. enough." dazai huffs, before removing the strapped camera around his neck, "here, maybe you can take better pictures than i can." the boy chuckles shyly, a very drastic verbal response than his usual arrogance.

"hmm," a gentle hum slips past your lips, squinting one of your eyes in order to press the machine against your face. "i can try." after scouting the area with his camera for a few seconds, you began to snap a few shots at the darkening lake, carrying several leaves in its wake.

and as you paid full attention to the awaiting winter, dazai's gaze stayed on you, his autumn. his gaze softened and his slightly chapped lips parted in a momentary surprise, taking you in with every breath he took. Dazai himself loved photography; he loved capturing moments that would soon get lost in time. the brunette, with a talent for many things, found solace in photos. he loved to take photos of resting cats, dark sceneries you'd only find in an alleyway of a fantasy novel, and candid pictures of random couples on dates. dazai loved taking photos but detested that he didn't have a camera on hand at the moment—for he wanted to freeze this divine sight of you in the confines of his brain. your face, fingers, the dip and curve of every facial feature, and how the lighting kisses your skin and hair.

"how's it like? being a total genius?"

you were rather familiar with all your classmates, just curiously getting to know the mysterious musical prodigy, dazai osamu. it was a work period, and everyone in class already begun to slack off, especially since there was a supply.

and you knew that the lanky boy was eerily quiet when the school's athletic hotshot, Chuuya Nakahara, wasn't around. so, asking stupid questions won't exactly result in stupid answers, or so you thought.

"why? wanna be like me?" — he smiles teasingly, tilting his sharp jaw in your direction. "don't think someone who cries in the snow can do it, sorry." you freeze up and scoff, slightly embarrassed from the former interaction you had with him. "dick." a peaceful but awkward silence fills the air between both of you before the boy clears his throat awkwardly. "But i'd be willing to talk about it if you let me bother you at lunch.?"

the question itself caught you off guard. looking around at the chattering students, "i—" the brunette backtracked, hiding his face slightly with gauzed fingers. "Actually!—I am going to bother you. you're friends with chuuya, aren't you?" you shrug, eyes fluttering to the ground, "..i guess so, but i don't eat with him or his friends."

A breathless chuckle slips past the prodigy's lips before covering his mouth softly, completely ignoring you, "alright then, see you anyway, crybaby."

he hates himself for not knowing what to do with you, but he loved you more to let hate consume him, like usual. dazai wanted you; he didn't know what yearning was until he saw pieces of you in sunsets, rain and snow. he's felt destiny with his childhood friend, chuuya nakahara. but he's never felt something so desiring, pining — like he wanted to be with you every day. and maybe one of those days he'll feel you without the stupid gauze wrapped around his fingers. maybe one day he can hold your hand without the excuse of dragging you somewhere new. maybe one day, dazai will figure out how to ask you to be his, how to love you, because he's sure you're the one he wants to love.

"ahh, wait.."

you cock a brow at his shocked face, grabbing onto your sleeve as if the prodigy were reaching for the stars.

"I wish I were a painter, instead." the boy pouts, holding your sleeve childishly, pulling a chuckle from your throat, "why is that, huh?"

dazai's eyes, ever so empty and unfilled, now gleam, pretty and gentle. Softly reaching out to part a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, gazing up at you feverishly. "usually, I'm so prideful about these things, photography.."

The prodigy clears his throat, his fingers threading through soft strands of hair tucked behind your ear. "But your eyes, they are really pretty." Your lips part bashfully surprised, overcoming your ability to move.

The boy continues as if his mouth was switched on autopilot: " So I wish I could paint them instead. I guess just looking works, too, though."

He smiles cheekily.

all you ever knew was noise,

but you, Dazai Osamu, had that kind of silence to keep you awake at night. Whether that'd be holding hands in a snowstorm, or the few moments he'd stare into your eyes.

Little did you know, that was the moment he fell in love. Or rather, the time it took him to realise you don't fall.

That love has grown before you can even realise it.

✧ chocsra™

[ceilidho]

This is in no way of hating but i want to know why do you enjoy writing noncon/rape? When I first downloaded tumblr which was couple of months ago i was surprised by the amount of noncon fics here. I eventually came to enjoy them which makes me question myself. Whenever i read a noncon fic and enjoy it i feel like im betraying women who actually went through those traumatic events. Plus I actually don't really like dark romance books? I love cod dead dove and that is mainly because i really love the characters and the authors are so talented. I rambled so much and i hope you don't get this in the wrong way i don't mean to hate AT ALL i love the stuff you write. Maybe i shouldn't think too much and let myself enjoy what im reading lol

first of all, no worries! i wasn't sure about your tone/intentions at first, but by the end i was totally fine with the question.

i actually don't mind talking about this stuff - i just sometimes avoid it on main because i prefer chatting about it privately.

second, i'm no psychologist or sociologist, so i probably won't be able to give you the most satisfactory answer, but i think there are a lot of different reasons. i can only name a few. one thing i should mention right off the bat is that rape fantasies are very normal (and this is true whether you're a survivor of SA or not) and writing/reading fiction can be a safe way to process those thoughts/feelings.

one of prevailing reasons is, of course, that many survivors of SA use noncon/dubcon literature/art as a way of processing their experiences and taking ownership of their trauma.

and look, people are going to go back and forth on this point (i've seen it all before - many people refuse to believe that engaging with noncon lit/art is helpful, and in fairness, it's NOT helpful for everyone because every person is different), but at the end of the day, if a survivor tells you "writing/reading this was helpful in my recovery" then that's that!

additionally, for many women and non-binary folk (i can only speak as a cis woman, but i'm sure this is a shared lived experience across many different people), we're also taught from a very young age to suppress our sexual desires / that being open about our sexuality is morally reprehensible and shameful. and a lot of people carry that shame for years, impacting them well into adulthood. so dubcon/noncon fantasies can be a way of being able to enjoy sexual scenarios where you don't have to be the initiator, thus taking away some of the emotional weight and shame.

plus, at the end of the day (and im sure many people will disagree with this take, it's something that i'm still figuring out myself), there is a kind of weird underlying consent implicit in dark fics. like, you might be reading a fic or novel that's ostensibly noncon, but you're also actively seeking out that literature (hopefully it's not just sprung on you - i do very much agree with tagging to the fullest extent and my lukewarm take is that I think all books, even traditionally published ones, should come with content/trigger warnings too).

there are a medley of reasons why someone might write or read dark fiction/dark romance. again, i'm just one person and i can only speak from my own experience!

i think at the end of the day, the important thing to realize is that fiction is fake, and as long as the writer appropriately tags their work and ensures that the audience is aware of what they're getting into when they start reading, they're not coercing the reader into something they aren't prepared for.

and it's totally fine if you have limits (like, you can read and enjoy dubcon, but not noncon) or can't engage with the material at all, but it's also unfair to say that it reflects someone's real life values - the same way that we don't say that the people who enjoy crime fiction must love murder.

and the last thing i want to say because this got a bit out of hand lol, is that, yes, for some people dark fiction is genuinely harmful, whether or not they're a survivor. it's not for everyone and that's completely fine and i'm aware of that, which is why i agree that you should tag as much as possible (even if you feel like you're overdoing it sometimes), but someone else's discomfort doesn't give them the right to tell you how to process your own emotions/experiences/desires/etc.

as long as no one's getting hurt, there's no issue as far as i'm concerned. and sorry but, no one's getting hurt by reading a fic or a novel unless the author didn't give proper content warnings - if you "forgot" to read the tags or read anyway DESPITE being warned, im sorry but that's life.

[milliesfishes]

Coryo freaking tf out and taking off work anytime his wife has a like a headache or like breaks a toe PLZ😭

⋆౨ৎcoryo being worried about his wife⋆౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

Coriolanus kept his loved ones as close as allowed, sparing no expense keeping them safe and happy as possible. You were the chief example of this, the longtime subject of his purest love and adoration reserved solely for you.

Though happy as a woman had ever been, you had a tendency to fall into accident-prone ways. He called you from his swanky office downtown one afternoon, voice tight with worry because he'd heard you had taken a tumble down the stairs.

"I'm fine," you assured him dulcetly, shifting the receiver to the other hand. "The doctor already examined me. It'll be nothing more than a bruise or two. It's my own fault for wearing heels and not holding the railing."

But even your promises couldn't satisfy him. He was pushing up the hem of your skirt the instant you were within reach, fingers tracing the purpling mark dented in by the hard plane of the wooden step.

"Darling, this doesn't look good at all," he frowned, brow creased like the marked page of a book. It was a chapter you were often turning to, the literature of his concern nearly poetic where it was highlighted with love. His eyes narrowed at the severity of your bruise. "You need to be more careful with the woman I love."

You couldn't help but smile at his concern, letting him poke and prod at your leg, afflicted like an apple that had been dropped to the floor. The tide loved the moon and so it bent to its will, and it was much the same with Coriolanus and you.

The event of him calling during the day was vastly common. He made an effort to check on you so often that you wondered if he was neglecting his duties at all. But remembering how diligent a worker Coriolanus was, the question never passed your lips.

One of these times, you mentioned casually that you had a headache, and Coriolanus voice tensed. "Are you alright? Did anyone bring you medicine-"

"Yes," you cut him off, shaking your head fondly at his concern. "It should take motion soon, don't worry. I'll be fine."

But no more than ten minutes after you hung up, he appeared in your doorway, taking you in his arms and asking about your condition. "Sweetheart, are you well?"

Laughing slightly and burying your face in his chest, you nodded. "I am. There was no need to fuss." Indeed, the pounding of your skull had been quieted by the pills delivered to you by a maid.

"Still," he insisted, guiding you over to your bed. Before you knew it you were nestled in his arms, and he was quietly insisting he'd done enough work for today, that he'd much rather spend time with his beautiful wife instead.

"You're far more important than any report," Coriolanus murmured into your hair, planting kisses at your temple. "No matter how little you believe your afflictions are."

[yoru-exe]

⊹₊ DON'T MESS WITH WHAT'S MINE ₊⊹

in which he found out that someone had been messing with you, and he wouldn't tolerate it

featuring: inui seishu, kokonoi hajime, hanemiya kazutora

a/n: i'm held captive by my literature writing and i need comfort :'(

inui seishu

you trembled there like a leaf, telling him about how that man in the room wouldn't respect the rule of the place, whispering in fear that he might hear and come looking for you. seishu's long fingers softly caressed your reddened wet cheeks, but you knew he's extremely furious from the pulsing vein on his forehead. "please don't be too hard on him, i don't want you to get hurt. he looks tough-".

he stopped you with a kiss, "i'll be fine, don't worry. go get back to you room now. i'll tell koko you're taking the day off today". when you wordlessly looked at him with a concerned look on your face, he just smiled, "i'll come over after i'm done". one last kiss on your forehead and he left, ready to unleash hell.

it was stupid of that man to not behave at toman's property, but it's all the more brainless to mess with his woman. seishu took his time with him, making sure that he learned his lesson so thoroughly he wouldn't even think of repeating the same mistake twice. later that night, he arrived at your room blood-stained and unharmed, just as he promised.

kokonoi hajime

he knews how to manage his resources and set his priority straight. so when his underlings reported to him about what happened to you, he gave his order for them to deal with that nobody on reflex, telling them to have fun with the beating, while he thought of ways to comfort you. all the moves perfectly calculated, afterall, he's not bonten executive for nothing.

koko found you at the balcony of your penthouse when he arrived home. your hair and dress swayed gently with the wind, but your usual smile wasn't as bright as it usually would be when you greeted him. carefully, he wrapped his arms around you, comforting you with his presence, "long day?". you just melt against him as you hummed.

he always find it so cool how you managed to keep your composure despite everything and he really respects that about you. alas, that didn't stop him from wanting to spoil you at every opportunity, "anything you need?". "just you". it made him thought how great it is to come home to you like this, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as he can. from his pocket, his phone buzzed to a short text from his men, "he's been taken care of".

hanemiya kazutora

man doesn't need you to explain. he just knew, through some kind of wild instinct, that someone had bothered you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. as an adult, kazutora is much more matured compared to how he was when he's still a teenager. alas, he can't help himself, "who?".

if made you shuddered, and it pulled rationality back to himself. "i just want to know, so that i can protect you next time", he cleared his throat. when you hesitated, he pulled you gently by your chin and said the magic word he knew you're weak for, "please?". and weak did you feel. he heard the anxiety in your voice as you told him all about it.

"everything will be fine now", kazutora promised, and he meant his word, because there will be no next time. after he sent you home from a ride around the city, to distract you from that event, he tracked the man down through his connection, and did everything he planned to do with him. although, if you're to ask him what he's up to last night, he's going to playfully tell you that it's a secret.

[magicians-abode]

(This is my first time writing NSFW, and a over 2k words, so I'm excited to see if you guys like this)

"Hungry Love. Let us Feast"

[Laios Touden x gn!reader]

Warnings: NSFW content below - long fic? - mentions of reader having AFAB genitalia - mentions of cannibalism (nothing gory don't worry)

Laios liked monsters. And he liked eating them. He had an... odd fascination with them, but who were you to judge, when you liked the idea of cannibalism as an analogy for love? Exactly, you were in no position to judge your partner.

You hadn't told him that, though. That you liked the idea of "consuming each other", or that you wanted him to bite each other as you were in bed, treating each other like a fine dish.

—Is everything okay, love?— Laios placed a gentle hand over (y/n)'s shoulder, stirring them away from their thoughts.

They nodded, smiling up at him softly.— Yeah, just thinking— he sat by their side, crossing his legs. He had taken off his armor, wearing the clothes from underneath. They couldn't help their eyes traveling down towards the v-neck of their shirt, the strings loose for comfort.

—Thinking of what?— he asked curiously.

—Just...— should they tell him? No...— about us— they kept their soft smile as they talked for a while about different topics, relating one with another, love, food, monsters. Ugh, monsters. Don't eat them, eat me (y/n) thought to themselves, unable to hide the expression of slight annoyance on their face as the topic was brought up.

He noticed this and mid-rant stopped— Are you alright? Are you tired? We've been walking a lot today, maybe you should rest— if there was something he liked more than talking about monsters in this world, that would be you. He cared about (y/n) more than anyone could imagine or describe.

—Ah, yes... well— they hesitated, looking at their hands, then at his face, and then back at their hands as they fidgeted with their fingers in an attempt to calm their nerves.

They wanted to say how much they wanted to be... consumed, devoured. But would it be weird? Maybe for Laios not too much?

—I've. .. wanted to tell you something for a long time— they mumble— I– It's nothing bad... I think— they waved their hands as they tried to not scare him with their seriousness. Laios looked at (y/n), silently waiting for them to speak.— Have you ever heard of cannibalism as a metaphor or analogy for... love? Or sex even?— they closed their eyes as they said that, bracing for something bad that never came.

Laios put a finger to his chin in thought— Well if I'm being honest, I think I heard of it once or twice, when I was younger and studying literature, but I never delved in much deeper than the fact that it's a thing— he answered with their usual tone.— Why do you ask?— Laios looked at them for an explanation, curiosity clearly sparked in his honey eyes.

(y/n) gulped, trying to ignore how their cheeks started to burn with an incoming blush. Were they really gonna talk about this? They had already told Laios and piqued his curiosity, and he probably would try to pick up the subject sooner than later if they decided to just leave it at this. So gathering courage, they spoke.— I would like for us to– uh– how do I put it?— (y/n) searched for the right words to voice their ideas— to treat each other like a meal when we have intimacy— they blurted, trying to finish the sentence as soon as possible.

—Treat each other... like a meal...— he echoed, raising an eyebrow— so you mean you want me to eat you?— he concluded.

—Ah– well, yes and no, I mean it not in the literal sense, but in a figurative one obviously— they explained— you see, I'd love it if you spoke to me more...no– I...— they sighed again. Gods above was this difficult.— I want you to describe or treat me like a meal. I want us to enjoy ourselves as if we were... "feasting on each other"—.

Soon enough their explanations worked their way into Laios's brain, and he understood exactly what (y/n) was asking for. He smiled, already coming up in his brain with a few ideas. He'd have to think more about the subject though, after all, he always wanted the best for you.

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep in the rooms of the abandoned house they had chosen to pass the night in, Laios approached (y/n) from behind as they were getting into bed.

—Sleepy?— he whispered in their ear, their strong arms hugging them by the waist. They froze at the sudden interaction and slowly relaxed.

—Not really, but we need the rest, don't we?— they smiled, trying to turn around to hug them back, but Laios didn't budge in their hold. —Uh, dear?— they mumbled, this time trying to look behind them.

That's when they felt his lips softly spread kisses on their shoulders, going to the back of their neck and ending their path under their ear. His breath was warm as he spoke— I'm hungry...— he mumbled against their skin. His voice didn't sound like it usually did. This time it sounded... dominant almost.

(y/n)'s breath hitched at this, suddenly feeling themselves grow hot in the cold of the night.

—Should I see if Senshi has any leftovers?— they asked despite their nerves.

—What for? I've got a whole meal right in my hands already...— he let his hands wander, one going down to grip and squeeze at their thigh. The other one traced its way over their neck and up to touch their lower lip.— It would be a waste if I didn't eat you, don't you think? ...so much to delight myself with—.

He let go of them and guided (y/n) to lie down on the bed. They obliged, excitement and pleasure already cursing through their veins as Laios crawled and watched from on top of them how they looked at him with a shy expression, their hair all messy over the soft pillow, a few strands on their face.— Oh how beautiful you are...— Laios whispers, licking his lips and moving the strands of hair away from their pretty face. His lips softly collided with (y/n)'s, who returned the kiss as they tangled their fingers at the back of his honey haired head.

Licking at their bottom lip, silently asking for permission, (y/n) parts their lips, allowing their tongues to dance lovingly. One of his hands stays by the side of their head to keep himself up, while the other moves the spread their legs a bit further, allowing him to come closer, his chest now pressing against theirs.

A string of saliva connects their lips when they break the kiss, and they're both left already panting, thinking about what's next. Laios stutters for a moment as his fingertips touch slightly under (y/n)'s shirt— May I?— he looks up at them through lidded, yet soft eyes.— I'm dying to discover what my meal is for tonight— he let's his hand further under their shirt once (y/n) gives them the okay to go ahead.

His big and somewhat calloused hands cup one of their breasts, massaging it for a moment, his index finger reaching for their nipple and flicking lightly at it. —Mhh... you're so perfectly soft, my love— he uttered, peppering kisses all over their collarbone.

(y/n) sighed, a hand coming up to their lips to contain the moan that wanted to escape from their lips, caused by all the attention they were suddenly receiving.

—Don't...— Laios said firmly, looking up at them from their collarbone.— I want to feast your flesh, and I want to listen to the way you feel when I'm devouring you. So don't— his hand traveled slowly down from their chest to the hem of their pants, feeling the goosebumps on their skin.

Laios felt his erection twitch in the captivity of his own pants, but he bit his lip, focusing once again on the task at hand. Eating.

He slid their pants off easily, underwear gone along with them, taking the opportunity to get rid of his own shirt as well. His breath already agitated, he gulped down the sudden urge to just dive in between their legs and taste them without a word. He continued to gently massage one of their breasts and kissing their neck. Lips starting to trail downwards, he pinched softly at one of their nipples, kissing his way down towards the other breast and sticking his tongue out to play with the nipple of the other.

When their legs twitched, threatening to close in the slightest around him, he moved his hand to hold their thighs open with a strong grip. It wasn't enough to hurt, no. But it was strong enough to let them know, without a word, that it was not happening under his watch.— Can't have a feast without the main course, can we?— he chuckled, trailing kisses down their body and finally positioning his face in between their legs. (y/n) looked away, but quickly looked right back down at him, embarrassment and excitement mixing in their stomach.

He slid a finger over the slick of the entrance, watching mesmerized at their juices as he heard a soft gasp of surprise come from their lips.

Kissing both of their thighs for a few moments first, he looked up to them and whispered— Thank you for the meal, my love— and closing his eyes, his tongue stuck out to lick in an upward motion, testing the waters. Once he heard another gasp, accompanied of a soft whimper, he pressed his face right into their cunt, tongue lapping at the juices as his nose pressed against the soft bundle of nerves slightly above.— Gods, I've been starving— he mumbled against their clit, his warm breath making them shiver.

Sticking his tongue inside of them, then swirling it around their clit, their flavor stuck to Laios's tongue and lips, smearing itself around part of his cheeks and nose as he hummed eagerly against their pussy.

It went on for a while, a long while. And he seemed thrilled at their reactions. What if he licked like this? What if he bit their thighs? What if he raised their legs and pressed his face as much as he could into the sweet liquor of their pussy? What if he held your hips in place with enough strength to make you unable to stop yourself from being completely devoured by him?

He shifted his gaze up towards their face— Gods you sound divine. You're so perfect— lidded eyes looked at them, as one of his hands moved towards the entrance his tongue was just exploring.— Can I?— always so polite, he asks for permission to keep exploring more.

— You shouldn't play with your food— (y/n) says in a breathless whisper. Looking back down at him— but... I'll allow it— Laios smiled softly at their words.

His finger teased the clit first, procuring they were even more wet than before as he slowly pressed kisses all the way back up their abdomen and across their chest until they reached their lips.

Gently teasing the entrance and then pushing his middle finger in, he was met with the warmth and the tightness of their insides as they moaned into his mouth.

—Relax sweetheart...— he whispered near (y/n)'s ear, moving to press a kiss on the space between their ear and their jawline— We're going to be here a while. I like taking my time to enjoy a good banquet— his finger pumped in and out of their pussy beautifully, their slick only providing them with lewd sounds everytime he dipped his finger back in or out. Laios bit down onto their neck, procuring to leave a hickey that everyone was most probably going to be able to see in the morning, and (y/n)'s hips stuttered upwards against his fingers.— You sound so delicious sweetheart— he praised, moving a second finger up to their entrance and penetrating them with both now, eliciting a rather loud moan to escape from them.—Take your time, I'm not stopping until I get to taste your sweet release— Laios mumbled against their jaw.

Gods was that night going to be a beautifully long one.

[rad-roche]

Pulp Covers And How To Paint Them

With the rise of cheap printing in the early twentieth century, mass-marked paperbacks swept the world, each offering lurid thrills for obscenely low prices. Sex, sadism, and incredible violence for as little as ten cents. An easy purchase to slot in between fifty cigarettes a day and enough bourbon slugs to kill a small garden.

Pulp fiction is where some of the greats of American literature cut their teeth, including the big three, Raymond Chandler, Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett. The contents of these stories, both the dizzyingly good and astoundingly terrible, have been absorbed and digested and remixed and regurgitated in nearly every permutation imaginable, fuelling pop culture some one hundred years on. This isn't an essay on that. Nobody likes to open a tutorial and be greeted with a wall of text. The history is for another time.

But it is about how to paint it.

Don't let the pre-amble intimidate you, it's not as hard as it sounds. You will need:

Painting software with some image editing capabilities. You don't need all the bells and whistles of Photoshop, but I wouldn't recommend something like MSPaint, at least not to start with. I'm using Clip Studio Paint.

A really beat-up paper texture. The grungier, the better.

A lightly-textured brush. Here are the specific brushes I use, 99% of which is the well-named rough brush. Try and avoid anything with any impasto elements.

Go to your colour-picking tool and use the 'select from layer' option. Doing all the painting on a single layer is going to make your life easier.

A complete willingness to make mistakes and, instead of erasing, painting over them. It generates much more colour variation and interest! Keep your finger off the E key.

Good reference! That painting is a master copy of Mitchel Hooks' art for Day of the Ram. Find a style you really love and want to learn? Have no clue where to begin? Do direct studies!

Let's not worry about whatever is happening in the background. It's probably fine. Let's get started! Pulp magazine art is a lot more varied than you might first think, so don't agonize over having a style that 'fits' or not. I'm also specifically aiming for something you'd see on the cover after printing, not the initial painting they would use for printing. The stuff I'll show here is a pretty narrow band of it, but here are some general commonalities. This is a painting by Tom Lovell.

Let's dig into this.

The colours are very bright and saturated, but the actual values, the relative lightness and darkness of them, are actually grouped very simply! You can check this by filling a layer full of black, putting it on top and setting its mode to colour. If the value of a painting looks good, you actually get a lot of leeway with colour. But here's what I think is the most important thing to keep in mind.

The darks aren't that dark, and the lights aren't all that light! Covers are paintings reproduced on cheap paper. Anything you wouldn't want to happen in the printing process, you lean into. Value wash-outs, lower contrast, colours getting a weird wash to them, really gritty texturing. So let's get painting! Here's my typical setup.

That bottom folder is the painting itself. The screen layer is the grungy paper texture. To get the effect you want, put it down, invert its colour, then set it to screen. That washes out your painting far, far too much, so to compensate, I put a contrast layer up on top. Fiddle around with the settings, but this is where mine ended up sitting.

Note I'm saying this before even starting the painting: you want to do this as early as possible. This is where the 'select from layer' colour picker comes in handy. You can paint without worrying about the screen or contrast layer. Something not looking right? Enable your value check layer and keep painting. When you turn it off, it'll still be in colour. Here's a timelapse so you can see what that looks like.

And when you check the values...

They're pretty simple! This isn't a be all and end all, but I hope it serves as a decent primer. I want thirty dames on my desk by Monday!

[wonsiwon]

No more fuel | S.J.Y

paring | Jake x reader

summary | Y/n is in a secret relationship with her professor, Jake, but when a viral video exposes them, Jake pushes her away to protect their futures.

genre | angst

based on the series Strict Professor by ZSakuVA.

You were a college student secretly involved with Jake, your literature professor. Keeping your relationship hidden was essential, especially to protect Jake's reputation, as he was well-respected and admired.

In the beginning, your meetings were limited to his office, safe from prying eyes. But a few days ago, you both took a chance and met outside for the first time. Jake brought you to a museum he'd been excited to visit, wanting to share the experience with you. It felt special, stepping outside the routine and discovering a shared appreciation for something new together.

Jake's passion for art and history came alive as he explained the details of each piece, his voice low and rich with that thick accent that seemed like it was meant only for you. It was a side of him you rarely got to see in class, and you found yourself captivated—not only by the art but by the way he spoke about it, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

It wasn't always easy. You both knew the risks, and sometimes the weight of secrecy was heavy. Despite of that, you couldn't bring yourself to care about what others might think. With Jake, it felt right—even if the world would never understand. You wanted to experience everything with him, to just be happy, without worrying about rules or expectations. But after that day at the museum, something shifted. Jake had dropped you off at home with the same warmth as always, but when the week began, things felt... off. At first, you tried to brush it aside, but slowly, the changes became too clear to ignore.

Jake started avoiding you. In class, his eyes no longer sought yours, and his once-frequent texts became sporadic, almost formal. Every time you tried to reach out, he seemed to pull back just a little further.

You couldn't ignore this feeling any longer. You had just gotten out of class a few minutes ago so as you walk through the hallway, you scrolled through your contacts, quickly pressing Jake's number when you couldn't find him in his classroom.

The phone rang once, twice, and then his familiar voice came through. "Hello?"

"Hey, how's it going?" you asked, keeping your tone as casual as always.

"I'm doing fine. And you?"

"Good... I'm good. Are you free?"

"Well, I'm rather busy right now, so—"

"Are you still at the university?" You stopped in your tracks, waiting for his answer.

"I'm still at the university, but I'm about to leave. Are you on your way home?"

"I am." you lied smoothly.

"Alright, then study well—"

"Where are you now?" you cut him off, quickening your pace down the hallway.

"At... at my car, but..."

"We need to talk." Your fingers gripped your phone tighter

"Can it not wait?" he sighed, sounding a little frustrated.

"When?" You raised an eyebrow, starting to feel impatient.

"Until the weekend...?" His voice trailed off, hesitant.

"Are you serious?" You stopped walking, confused and a bit annoyed .

"Yeah. I don't want to talk about this over the phone," he explained, his voice quieter now. "I'd much rather talk face to face."

You sighed, glancing around. "Then I guess I'll give you that." You pushed the door open, stepping outside. The cold wind hit your face, and your hair blew back.

"Huh? What do you mean?" he asked, clearly confused.

"I'm outside," you said, your tone flat. "Since you've been avoiding."

There was a long pause. "I haven't been avoiding you... it's just I've been a little busy with submissions and paperwork, so I thought it'd be best if—"

He stopped talking abruptly when he saw you standing right next to his car. You ended the call, tossing your phone into your purse.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. He was wearing his glasses, suit, and bow tie, just like he had been this morning in class.

"We need to talk."

"I told you we should wait until the weekend," he said, taking his keys out.

"You said you wanted to talk face to face."

"We are face to face..." He stared at you, but then quickly added. "...but we're still at the university. It'd be better if we plan this for another day, when we're not in full view of the student body." He unlocked the car.

"Jake, what's going on?" You blocked his way, standing firm in front of him.

He ran his hand over his face, rubbing his nose bridge and letting out a heavy sigh.

"I've just been stressed." he said, his gaze meeting yours.

"About what?" you asked, your voice soft. "Is it about our date?" you added, referring to the museum.

"No, the date was—" He stepped back, letting out a frustrated groan. "We can't talk about this."

"Then when? Because every time I try to talk to you, you always seem to be busy or something."

"You really want to talk about this?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, his eyes narrowing as he sighed and turned away, clearly trying to stay composed. "Get in the car.” For a moment, you didn't move, unsure. He gave you a pointed look and repeated himself more firmly, "Get in the car."

You walked around the car, he quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then both of you jumped into the car.

"You need to have some awareness. Our private life shouldn't be a topic of discussion in public." He began.

"Then tell me what's wrong." you repeat, trying to catch his eyes, but he kept avoiding your gaze.

"I told you, I've been busy with submissions and marking assignments," he sighed, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as he put on his seatbelt. "Put on your seatbelt. I'll drive you home," he added, starting the car.

You clicked your seatbelt into place and then stole a quick glance at him, but the silence hung thick between you two as the car rolled forward. “What is there to talk about?" he muttered, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "This week's been busier than usual with someone leaving the department. I've had to take on more work. Julia's agreed to more duties in the literature department, so I've been given an assistant."

You tightened your grip on your skirt when you heard her name. Julia. One of Jake's coworkers. You'd never met her before, but lately, she seemed to be spending a lot of time with him. She was tall, smart, and had a great body—everything that made you feel uneasy.

"She's quite clumsy and skittish, but she's doing well so far.” Jake finished, his tone lighter as he even cracked a small smile.

"Do you spend time alone together?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, and the question seemed to freeze the moment. Jake's smile immediately faded.

"What? What made you ask that?" he glanced at you, clearly thrown off guard. "I do spend time alone with her, but she's just an assistant.” he explained.

"Is she new? I've never seen her before..." you crossed your arms defensively, still unsure of how you felt about her.

"Yes, she started this week. But that doesn't have anything to do with why I've been so busy." Jake clarified. You could feel your face betray a little insecurity, and he noticed.

"You think there's something between me and her?" he asked, his eyes flicking to you.

"Maybe." you muttered, playing with a strand of your jacket nervously.

"You want the truth?" he sighed. "She's stunning, and I won't deny that I can appreciate someone else's looks. But I only have eyes for you. I don't think of her in that way."

You barely breathed, trying to process his words. You hadn't actually cared about Julia that much, there was something else happening—something that Jake had been holding back. And now, it was spilling out.

"Haven't you seen the video?" Jake asked, his voice a little tense, eyes flicking toward you.

"What video?" You turned to him, a sudden wave of confusion and curiosity washing over you.

"We were seen at the museum by more than one student. Apparently, they took it upon themselves to follow us for a good while and recorded it all.” he explained, his tone tinged with frustration. Your mouth opened slightly, a lump forming in your throat. “You remember when we parted at the stairs, and I held your hand, just for that moment?" Jake continued, his gaze softening as he turned his attention to the road. You noticed his eyes were distant, as if he was lost in the memory.

You replayed the scene in your mind: the beautiful silver staircase at the museum, the brief but intimate moment when you both held hands, feeling like it could last forever. But it was just a second—a fleeting connection that now seemed to have been captured and shared with everyone.

"That one moment where I actually gave in—they filmed that too, and now there's no way to pretend that we randomly bumped into each other." Jake muttered, clearly frustrated. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if trying to hold himself together. You could feel the weight of his words, the gravity of the situation settling over you. He continued, his voice lower now, almost regretful. "Even when I watched it, anyone could tell it wasn't just a coincidence. I didn't even realize how I looked at you."

Jake took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "The comments were—shall we say—not approving. There were some that argued we're both adults who can date whoever. But most—" He paused, his voice faltering. "They were tearing you apart. Saying you were only doing it to sweeten me up for a higher grade. Others said you were doing it for extra credit."

You dropped your eyes to your lap, the words stinging harder than you expected. So that's why people were staring at you. You had felt their eyes on you all week.

Jake's voice broke your thoughts, his tone more somber now. "When I walk around campus, I see students and staff staring, like I've done something abhorrent." His jaw clenched as he stared ahead, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "When people don't have enough entertainment in their lives, they gossip and tear others down. They like watching the fallout of rumors, and even stoke the flames if they're bored enough. We can't give them more fuel."

Your eyes flickered toward him, a sense of confusion crossed your face. "What do you mean?"

Jake took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. "I'm saying that this needs to end," he said firmly, his voice hard. "You have to stop. We have to stop."

You stared at him in disbelief, your mind racing as the words sank in. "What do you mean, 'we have to stop'?" you whispered, struggling to understand.

"I'm saying this... whatever this is between us, it needs to end. The way you've been persistent, the way you've been holding on, it's not good for either of us anymore. We can't keep doing this."

"But Jake, you said we could get through this together," you replied, voice trembling. "You promised."

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "I know what I said before. I know... But the reality is different now."

You shook your head slowly, still trying to process everything. "But you said... we could pass through this together."

Jake met your eyes, his face hardening. "I don't think we can. This video, it's out there. And while the university might not do anything about us, the damage it can cause? We can't come back from that."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything went silent. Your heart sank as you finally understood what he was saying. The weight of his words hit you like a brick, and the reality of what was happening came crashing down. You weren't sure if you could breathe for a moment, the air feeling heavy in your chest.

You felt the weight of his words crash down on you, your heart tightening with every syllable. "What? Do you expect that by coming clean, it will just be accepted?" Jake's voice was laced with sarcasm, his frustration clear. "I don't care about their acceptance of us, it's not their business."

"Then what?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

"What really irritates me is what they're saying about you," he muttered, his voice rising with anger. "Things that aren't even true."

You shook your head, pushing your hair behind your ear, trying to steady your breath. "Jake, I don't care what they think of me. I told you from the beginning," you said, a faint tremor in your voice as you glanced at the house, you were home.

He stopped, eyes fixed on the pavement in front of your house. "Listen," he began, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. "it was good while it lasted. We had some fun together. But now... this should come to an end."

You froze, the words hitting you like a slap. "Why are you doing this?" you asked, disbelief creeping into your voice.

"Because I've realized that my view of this whole thing was only driven by the forbidden nature of our relationship.” he said, looking at you. "It wasn't real."

"Don't you like me anymore?" you asked, your heart ached as you spoke, as if each word was a plea.

He exhaled sharply, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "I am attracted to you." he said, his eyes darting toward the road as if he couldn't quite meet your gaze. "But is it really worth it? Is my attraction and my need to have someone more important than your future? No. It can't be. I became a professor to nurture curious minds, not to mess with people's lives."

"The words cut through you like a knife. You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. "Jake, please... let's think about this again." you pleaded, trying to reach he's hand, arm anything "I—"

"No." he interrupted brushing you off, his tone colder than you'd ever heard before. "We can't continue this. I can't let you endanger yourself because of me. Now go. You're home."

You didn't want to leave. You couldn't leave. Your heart was in your throat as you reached out, desperate to close the distance between you, but his words kept you frozen.

"I don't care about what people think of me, Jake! I only want you, and only you." you said, your voice breaking as your hand reached for his. But as you tried to touch him, he recoiled, stepping back from you, his face twisted with frustration.

"What do you want from me?" he shouted, his voice growing louder. His eyes flashed with anger and something else—something you couldn't decipher. "My attention? A confession? I've given you that! I think about you so much it's almost unhealthy!" He took a breath, his voice lowering as his expression hardened. "It's not something I can't forget but it's something I can end, and that's what I'm doing right now."

You stood there, paralyzed by his words, the weight of the moment crashing over you. “I don't understand! Why, Jake, why?" You raised your voice, the tears falling freely now, your chest tightening with each sob.

"I'm doing this for you." he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with a heavy sadness. "So you can cruise through your education without distractions. No bullying, no threats..."

He let his head rest against the back of the seat, his hand covering his eyes. He rubbed them softly, the weariness evident in his expression. "I should have never given in to this... What was I thinking?"

And finally, those words hit you like a punch. Your heart clenched, the pain radiating through your chest. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, just feel.

"So you regret liking me?" You whispered, your voice trembling, the mix of sadness and anger making your words sharp. "You regret all of this?"

"I didn't mean that." he said quickly, looking at you with intense eyes. "Don't put words in my mouth, Y/n." His voice was stern now, a stark contrast to the pain in your own.The car was silent for a moment. You could hear the soft hum of the engine, but it felt like the world had stopped around you. "I thought I was better than this." he muttered, almost to himself. "I can't give you more than I already have. I can't let you burn for something I need to control. I'm sorry."

"Jake, please, we can make it work—" you started but he interrupted you before you could say more.

"I can't give you what you want!" he snapped, his voice harsh, louder than before. The force of his words made you flinch, a chill running down your spine. "Not when you're robbed of your reputation because of me. I won't allow it. This is my choice. I'll learn, as I should have done from the beginning, to only admire you from afar."

His eyes were different now, colder, harder—something in them made you feel like you didn't recognize him. You shook your head, the tears blurring your vision. "No more... now please, leave." His voice was firm, almost desperate.

"Are you fucking serious, Jake?" You gasped, the disbelief clear in your voice. You couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"I have nothing else to say!" Jake shouted, his voice filled with frustration. "You can go back to flirting with your peers, but not with me! We're to have a strict teacher-student relationship from now on, nothing more." His words were cold, barely looking at you, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

"Have you lost your mind?!" you shot back, your voice rising in anger. "Are you listening to yourself right now?

"Explore your options!" He yelled back, his voice harsh, almost desperate. "I simply can't be one of them. I've said what I've said, that's it. Now leave, please."

You glared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are you sure about this?"

"We can't go back. We're done!" he replied, his tone final, almost as if he had already made peace with it.

"You're a damn coward.” you spat, the words like acid in your mouth. With a sharp motion, you opened the car door and slammed it shut with all the force you could muster, the sound echoing in the air.

You stood there for a moment, feeling the air sting against your skin. Tears running down your cheeks and the weight of Jake's words pressing down on you with each passing second. You wanted to scream, to run after him and demand answers, but your body felt like it was paralyzed, unable to move.

His car was already disappearing into the distance, the sound of the engine fading away until all that was left was silence. The reality of what had just happened settled over you like a heavy blanket. You couldn't believe it—this was how it ended?

You wiped your eyes quickly, everything felt like it was spinning out of control. Slowly, you took a few shaky steps toward the door, your body moving on autopilot. You reached for the handle, but your hand paused. You stood there, the cold air biting at your skin, feeling like everything you thought you understood had been ripped away.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you opened the door and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind you. The house felt oddly empty, too quiet. You sank onto the couch, pressing your face into your hands as the tears came freely. You didn't know what to think anymore, didn't know what to feel. All you could do was sit there, the silence surrounding you, feeling the weight of the day events crashing over you.

[lazycats-stuff]

can i request a scenario where the reader, who has been trained as a weapon for most of their life, struggles with expressing their emotions. The reader has been adopted by the Batfamily and is injured during a mission. They try to hide their injuries, but Dick or Jason (or both) find out and scold the reader for keeping it a secret. The reader responds by saying that they didn't think it was a big deal. it was a big deal. So it’s fluff and angst. The scenario can end with the Batfamily having a movie night after patching the reader up to help them feel better. If the scenario crosses any boundaries, please feel free to change anything necessary.

Don't worry, everything is well within my boundaries. And also, thank you for 500 followers! I still don't know how I managed that with what I call writing.

Summary: (Y/N) hides his emotions. After an injury, Jason and Dick can't stand it.

Warnings: medical inaccuracies, mentions of training before the batfam, Dick and Jason being good brothers, (Y/N) being emotionally constipated, Bruce trying to get closer to (Y/N), angst, fluff

Also, this is such a cool gif, (V/N)= Vigilante name

A weapon. That's all that he was taught. That's all he could remember. A weapon has no emotions, he remembers them saying. A weapon needs to fit in wherever they are. He was always told that his emotions don't matter, that the missions matter more. The goal was more important.

For a long time that's what he was told. His chances of fighting against his handlers are non existent. His chances at normal life were non existent.

That was until a mission in Gotham.

Batman and his birds somehow managed to capture him. (Y/N) still doesn't know how they managed to find him in Gotham. He blended with the shadows, just like he was taught. (Y/N) then realized why Batman was called the detective and why he was so respected and feared in their world.

(Y/N) also didn't expect to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, a man who turned out to be Batman. And more so, (Y/N) didn't expect to have choices. What to wear, what to eat, even when to wake up.

(Y/N) was never given a choice.

It felt nice knowing that he had some sort of control over his life. For the first time ever. And everyone introduced him to a lot of his firsts. Disney movies and cartoons, different kinds of candy since he wasn't allow sugar, books that are not literature classics and playing sports like basketball, football, but not American.

And it was great, but one thing that his new found family couldn't do was make him show emotions. (Y/N) still struggled with that. No matter how much he was told that it was fine and that it wasn't a sign of weakness, he couldn't do it.

One more thing they noticed how he was dismissive of certain things. They couldn't get him to rest, not even when he was sick. Not even the flu could keep him resting. Bruce had to put his foot down when (Y/N) said he wanted to go on patrol while he had a flu.

Bruce was going to maim the people who raised him in that way. Jason and Dick are going to help him too.

(Y/N) emotional unavailability hit a breaking point when he was injured. They were out on patrol and all of a sudden, they were ambushed by Deathstroke and some of Ra's assassins. (Y/N) see a fight from a mile away.

He still didn't know how Deathstroke managed to freelance for Ra's al Ghoul. Deathstroke watched him with his good eye, clearly interested in him for being a new member of the Batfamily. But there was also some sort of familiarity.

"Good job detective. You managed to adopt (V/N), a living weapon. " Deathstroke said, parading up on the railing. (Y/N) didn't say anything to that, but he could sense Bruce's anger rolling off him in waves.

Dick gripped his batons tighter and Jason gripped his gun tighter. (Y/N)'s eye were back on Deathstroke's and the two locked eyes once more.

" (V/N) is not a weapon Slade. " Jason jumped to (Y/N)'s defense.

" Well, the rest of the criminal world doesn't think so. (V/N) was known as the boogeyman, the one thing you don't want to find in the dark. " Deathstroke said, taking his blade out of his holster.

" I, up until now, never had a chance to fight against (V/N). But I will have a chance to kill him. " He finished, jumping over it. The other assassins followed his lead and jumped right after him.

(Y/N) had some experience with Ra's al Ghoul's assassins. Thankfully, Ra's had enough respect for (Y/N) and decided to leave him alone and not kill him. But it seems that the tables have turned on that matter.

The family tensed up and Jason pushed (Y/N) behind him a little bit.

" What does Ra's have with (V/N)? Why do you need his help to kill him? " Batman questioned, also moving to the front to cover (Y/N).

" It doesn't matter detective. What matters is that he is dead tonight."

Batman went after Deathstroke, not going to allow him to go after (Y/N). The young vigilante wanted to go after Deathstroke, but the two assassins jumped in front of him and (Y/N) was forced to deal with them. What a nuisance.

He fought alongside Jason, before moving to fight alongside Damian. Bruce and Slade still fought with all of their might. (Y/N) said screw it and jumped into the fight with Deathstroke and Batman.

He wasn't going to allow Deathstroke to win. And if he wants to kill him, why not give him a fair shot. Deathstroke's good eye locked with (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) went at it.

Batman wanted to stop (Y/N), but once (Y/N) got into a fighting mode, it was impossible to stop him. Bruce and (Y/N) worked together, but Deathstroke was just as equally good.

(Y/N) was thrown back with a nasty kick to the stomach, making him cough and spit out blood. He grunted, ready to strike back regardless. He was always taught to suppress the pain and just keep on going.

He dodged a punch before landing a punch on Deathstroke's mask, knocking off of his head. Batman swopped in and finished him off. (Y/N) got back into a fight Ra's assassins, dodging through their blades, helping others finished them off.

After it was all said and done, they called the GCPD to pick them up.

" Good job everyone, lets get home. " Batman said, gathering them all up.

" Thank God. We spent way too much time here anyway. " Jason said, already going out. (Y/N) couldn't agree anymore. He feels like something is off with himself. He could always tell, even before it hit him out of nowhere.

" Come on, (V/N). " Dick said, passing by (Y/N).

(Y/N) managed to sneak up out of the cave. He hoped that he was unnoticed. He knew that something was off. He knew that his ribs were fractured, but not broken.

He didn't want to do this in front of anyone and besides, he knows how to treat them. He has done it time and time again. He went to his bathroom and squatted down to get the tapes. Thankfully, it didn't hurt this really bad.

Then he opened the mirror and took a pill for the pain. He put a shirt on and was ready to go out for ice, but a knock on his door made him freeze.

" (Y/N)? We know you are here, you didn't get checked out by Alfred and you suffered a nasty kick to the stomach. " Jason said, voice muffled by the door.

" I'm fine, suit absorbed the kick. " (Y/N) lied, putting the tape away.

" (Y/N), I have a great bullshit detector and you just activated it. " Jason said, opening the door of his room, Dick following him. Jason and Dick looked at him before Jason pointed at the shirt.

" Come on. Off. "

" Nope. "

" (Y/N). Please don't tell me you are hiding an injury. "Dick said, hoping that it wasn't true.

" It's not a big deal. " (Y/N) mumbled.

" It is! I mean, we can patch you up! Is it a question of vulnerability? " Dick said, moving closer to (Y/N).

" Also, if it's the stomach or the ribs, you need to check it out. " Jason added, trying to deescalate the situation.

" Guys, I'm fi- "

" (Y/N), I swear to God, say that you are fine and I will manhandle you and patch you up roughly. " Jason said, rubbing his forehead.

" (Y/N), injuries here are a big deal. We patch each other up and that way we help each other out. I know it's not easy to forget the habits that were installed in you, Damian is a living proof of that. But you have to let others in. You are our brother and we love you. Some might not show it, but they do. " Dick said, putting his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" And when we patch each other up, we strengthen that love and trust. We protect each other and trust each other. And again, I know it's hard to go against everything that was installed in you, but this is a safe place. " Jason added, helping Dick with his point.

" Come on, lets get you checked out. " Jason said, opening the bedroom door.

Dick told everyone about (Y/N) hiding his injuries and suggested a movie night to make (Y/N) feel better. The others didn't like that fact. How come they didn't notice it before? How many times was (Y/N) in pain and they didn't notice?

" How about a movie night? Maybe a Harry Potter marathon? " Jason suggested, already taking the blankets and extending the couch that will make sure to fit them all.

" Okay, bring more pillows Tim. " Jason said to Tim.

" Somebody can bring some snacks. Some chocolate for (Y/N). " Jason said, arranging the blankets. Tim got up and started walking to the kitchen.

" Damian, you are going to give him talk later about hiding injuries. " Jason said, making Damian huff.

" Don't huff at me. " Jason warned. Tim came back with the pillows and put them all around.

Dick, (Y/N) and Alfred came back a few moments later. Dick was all smiles as he led (Y/N) to the couch. " Now (Y/N), lay down. "

" They know, don't they? " (Y/N) said, looking at the all smiling Dick.

" We told them, but they are not judging you. " Dick answered.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, instead he laid down on the couch, taking a blanket, covering himself. Bruce laid down next to him and the other followed quickly. Even Alfred joined.

Bruce laid down next to (Y/N), moving his arm to put it behind (Y/N). Then he put his arm around (Y/N)'s shoulder, bringing him closer to him. (Y/N) was a but startled, but relaxed into the touch. Even more, he leaned his head down on Bruce's shoulder.

Everyone noticed it and everyone was happy. Maybe he will be finally be happy and less emotionally unavailable. Maybe (Y/N) will be able to let go of the demons hunting him.

[v4mpgutz]

Daylight, Ethan Landry [ DRABBLE ]

— and i can still see it all, all of you, all of me

ghostface ethan landry x bimbo gf reader

warnings — (hinting at) dark ethan, minor corruption, petnames (sugar, baby, sweetheart), fem reader, reader is a bit of a crybaby (same), mildly suggestive, mentioned murder.

note: THIS IS SHORT i'm sorry but it's my first time writing ethan like this and can i just say, *moaned*

ethan's favourite thing to do in his free time was tease you. one notable time would be when he gently tapped his middle fingers against your forehead as you told him a math problem you didn't understand.

"awe, too hard for you, sugar? not much of a brain up here, hm? that's okay, that's why you have me. right?" he'd said as you sniffled and gave a nod, pouting your glossed lips.

he wasn't always so mean though, sometimes he'd reward you for getting answers right while he helped you study!

"that's right, sweetheart," he whispered lowly into your ear as he kissed below your lobe. "doing so good f'me, huh?" his hands creeped dangerously far up your inner thighs as your breath hitched and you looked up at him with doe eyes.

"are you sure this is okay? 'm a little ner—" ethan interrupted you with a kiss before placing a finger to your lips, his other hand coming up to place a firm but not asphyxiating grip on your throat.

"hm? 'course it's fine, baby. don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

one night ethan came back from butchering a boy in your english literature class who decided it'd be okay to ask for your number. ethan had a scowl on his face before it softened at the sight of you, sniffling and crying softly as you pouted.

"baby?" he called with furrowed brows and sat next to you on your bed. "why're you cryin', huh?"

you looked up at him like a kicked puppy before muttering softly, embarrassed. "nothin'... just a sad movie."

he glanced beside you to your journal that was open, displaying an unfinished entry in hot pink glittery gel pen. his lips quirked up into a smirk as he snatched the little thing from your covers and read it.

he chuckled and threw it back onto your bed. "awe, you sweet thing. you were cryin' 'cause you were worried about me?"

you whined and looked away from him, insisting it wasn't true. but of course, ethan knew better — especially when it came to his pretty little girlfriend.

"whatever you say, baby."

posting early AHHHHH IM BACK BABY !!!!

[the-kr8tor]

I love love love your work!!!! This is my first time sending a request so I hope I’m doing it right 😭,, I was wondering if you could do reader x Hobie Brown,,where the reader is a HUGE bookworm and loves talking about current reads/ literature in general. The reader is worried about annoying Hobie while talking because they think he doesn’t care about books or the topic is boring, so she stops yapping about her books and Hobie finds it weird or something 😭😭🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

Hihi! Thank you so much!! Hope you like it ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF.

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“—and you know what happens next?” You exclaim, tone high and excited. Hobie sits comfortably in between your legs, his hands tinkering with your broken clock whilst you ramble on about a new read. You answer your own question a mere second later. “She fucking fell of the tower, taking down the villain with her!” Fingers kneading softly at his nape, it's more for your pleasure than his (he loves it anyway)

You can't see it but Hobie has a huge grin on his face. He, like usual, would always sport the same smile whenever you talk about your books. He'd always find himself enamored by the plot just from you talking about it. Whether it's romance or horror, he loves it when you share your stories with him. He'd let you ramble on for hours if you want to. The clock in his hand was repaired by him thirty minutes ago, but he'll be damned if he interrupts your pleasant chatter.

His vision is filled with your face a second later, eyebrows knitted together, and a pout on your pretty lips. He resists the urge to kiss it away.

“Are you okay?” You ask, and he quirks a brow at your question.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?”

“I've been a chatterbox all day, your ears must be ringing from my voice.” You clear your throat nervously. “Sorry, Hobs, can you tell me about your day?” You rhythmically tap his clavicle, a nervous habit of yours that he finds endearing.

“Love, my ears are perfectly fine at listening to you talk.” Hobie slithers his hand up to the back of your head, not pushing or pulling you away, just comfortably holding onto you. “And you know I love my chatterbox.”

You sigh, arms laying still on his torso, chin tucked atop the crown of his head. “I haven't given you the chance to talk, I've been blabbering the entire time about my book. You must be so bored, do you want to turn the telly on instead?”

“Love?” He calls tenderly as he leans his head down so he could see you in all your glory.

“Yeah?” You answer back with the same softness, and a small smile on your lips when you see through his lopsided smile and hazel eyes that are practically in the shape of hearts.

Hobie chuckles, hands leaving the clock to hold the side of your thighs, squeezing lightly. The pads of his calloused fingers glide down to your knees, laying there comfortably like you're a seatbelt on a rollercoaster.

“You could talk about how paint is made and I'd listen to you for hours on end.” Your cheeks warm up at his comment, it's your turn to resist a much needed smooch on his handsome face. “I'm just lucky that you're into more interesting things.”

“You're okay with me talking about my stories?”

“I'll do you one better.” He twists around on the floor to loop his arms around your waist. Pushing you close to him, chin laying on your thigh, he tilts his head, knowing that the simple act makes you melt. With a proud smirk, he taps the small of your back. “Read the book to me? You're killing me with anticipation here, love, what happens next?”

You hide your quickening heartbeat with a huff. “Okay, but don't hate me if you don't like what happens next.” You practically leap off the couch to fetch the book when he nods at you. His laugh echoes and follows you around as you rummage through your piles of books.