#look i know its not that long but it is for me and im really proud of how it turned out

[jeongin-lvr]

hi hru? i hope you're ok 💓

i saw that your requests were open so if its ok, id like to request a fic with husband!taehyun. the plot is up to you, cause i love your fics and how you perfectly balanced a soft smut. tysm if you read this request. and take your sweet time, no rush! (:

hi cutie pie im so okay :P and tysm ur so sweet genuinely love getting asks like this ☹️ cw. trad-leaning relationship, breeding kink.

trad husband! taehyun that begs you to carry his babies— literally begs. he practically loses his mind whenever you tell him to cum inside. everything about it is so intimate, so erotic. his favorite place to cum is right in your gushing pussy, as deep as he can go. taehyun tends to let out soft breaths and groans but when he cums inside of you is borderline pornographic breathy moans. high pitched but brief; every time he does it you savor it. cumming as he tells you how pretty you’ll look full of his babies, how you’re gonna be a perfect mama and how he’s gonna be so good to you both. you really don’t need convincing anymore, simply letting him make his claim in you whenever he got pent up. if hubby wants a baby give him a baby <3

trad husband! taehyun who lets you cock warm him as soon as he comes home from work. you’re sure he’s had a rough day from the bags under his eyes and the messiness of his usually well kept hair, so you offer him something he can’t refuse. when you sit on his lap with his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your fingers intertwine in his hair, combing the styling mousse out and kissing his jaw as he rants about a long day. being a business man has his downsides and as a good wife you’re always willing to listen!

trad husband! taehyun that buys you gifts— jewelry, lingerie, dresses, anything —just to fuck you in it. that new pearl necklace and earrings set he got? he wants to watch the precious jewel bounce as you ride his dick. that new floral patterned dress is perfect for easy access so of course he takes advantage of it; bending you over the kitchen counter mid-dinner prep and using you as he pleases. he buys you new panties and asks you to model them for him, knowing damn well it’d be much more than that. if he’s gonna spend money on you (gladly) he’s also gonna get a tiny bit of payment back. even buys new lipstick or mascara for you just to kiss it off, or make you cry on his cock.

trad husband! taehyun who never cums before you. sex feels unfinished when it’s just him cumming, so if he finds himself getting too close to the edge he’ll pull out, opting to play with your clit, teasing you by rubbing just his leaky, red tip along your folds. he doesn’t tell you he’s on the brink of explosion, too focused on dragging you along with him. it’s honestly not hard at all to get you there, though. a few whispers of praise into your ear, breathy and hot, already get you going for him. taehyun has a fetish for your pleasure; honestly, he can’t cum happily if you haven’t yet. he’s so sweet about it too, “c’mon, my pretty wife, give me what I want. you’re close aren’t you? love when you cum on my dick, baby, so give it to me.” you swear you go brain dead when he does this.

trad husband! taehyun who eats you out from behind while you talk about your day. it could be mundane as “I cleaned the house today” to random gossip about your friends or neighbors or whatever. taehyun, honestly, isn’t listening wholly. he’s too busy burying his nose against your throbbing clit and scissoring you open with his slender fingers, wedding band rubbing against your folds. he holds your hips down, enjoying the stutter in your voice when you get close to cumming even though you’re in the middle of your story. he mutters into your core “that’s nice, sweetie” and “yeah, babe.” you’re too blissed out to realize he hasn’t heard a single thing you said this whole time.

trad husband! taehyun who’s favorite version of you is when you wear his big white button ups and nothing else. draping over your smaller frame like curtains to a window; dripping just below your hips. it makes him so hard; blood rushing to his cock the moment he sees you like this. when you have no panties underneath and raise your arms, revealing the soft flesh of your ass his mind short circuits. he can’t help but want to fuck you in any and every position in his button downs.

if this is absolute garbage I’m so sorry I’m so deep into a writers block

[liliapleasesteponme]

Avis Amberg nsfw alphabet

Avis amberg x fem!reader

Summary - an nsfw headcannon for each letter of the alphabet

This whole thing is a warning

NOTE i will be making more of these for different characters !!

Taglist - @delusionalforolderwomen @lilia-calderus-pet-goat @bravewithacapitalb @live-laugh-love-lupone @lemz378 @emilynissangtr @sapphic-girlss @mgruiz @multixfan @angeliccs @ilovepattilupone @renyfisher @tinnisamy @thegoddamnfeels

Aftercare

She loves when you give her aftercare, complimenting and praising her on how good she was. It makes her feel extra special. She does try to give aftercare but she's not as good at it as you

Body part

She adores your fingers. The way they caress her body, the way they can give her such pleasure

You love her face, its amazing to look at and sit on

Cum

She can cum alot and when she does she becomes VERY vocal about it.

When you cum she always licks it all up, wanting to savor your taste as long as she can

Dirty Secret

During her first time with a woman, she was embarrassed by how inexperienced she was so she tried to bury her face into the pillows to hide her moans but instead they became louder whimpers instead. She thinks about that alot

Experience

Obviously she's no stranger to sex but she is very inexperienced in sex with women so you end up teaching her a few new things

Favourite nicknames

She loves being called mama and when things get more intense she sometimes likes being called mistress.

For you, she uses a wide range of nicknames but she always adds 'my' to them just for a little reminder of who you belong to

Goofy

I dont think she'd be one to make jokes while the two of you are being intimate, she would maybe make a joke or two during foreplay though

Hate

I think she would be one to indulge in hate sex (but only as roleplay), often. with you saying things like, "oh you're such a bitch" And her replying with, "i don't hear you telling me stop."

Intimacy

She always tries to be as intimate and passionate as she can, wanting to make you feel about her the same way she feels about you (you do but she second guesses herself)

She somehow even manages to make quickies feel intimate and romantic

Jack Off

Ok im just gonna say it―i think she masturbates ALOT. You make her very horny and who is she not to indulge when she can't have you to take care of her ?

Kink

1000% has a praise kink. She loves loves loves being praised (it makes her feel validated)

I think she would also like trying orgasm control, hear me out, because she sees it as a challenge. She often finds it really hard not to cum so she enjoys the thrill it gives her

Location

She prefers the bedroom because it feels more personal but she's down for doing it almost anywhere as long as its not too public

Motivation

She's always horny for you. Wearing something revealing ? She's horny. You casually praise her for something ? She's horny. You compliment her ? She's horny. Honestly just seeing you turns her on so ...

NO

I don't think there would be much that she's opposed to and if you say a new thing she'll be down to try it, if she doesn't like it she will tell you

Oral

It would take her a while to get comfortable with giving oral since she's not used to it but once she is OMG is she amazing at it !!! Girlie knows how to work that tongue

She loves receiving oral cause she is always amazed by how incredible your tongue makes her feel

Pace

She likes to start slow, savoring the moment, but once she gets going its FAST. She's being pounded at brutal paces and she loves it

Quickie

Like I've said she prefers to be intimate to savour the moment but if she really needs it she'll give tou a certain look of longing that makes you understand exactly what she's asking

Risk

Risk is thrilling to her. Leaving a door open so someone could walk in ? She's down, loves it. It adds an element of suspence into her life and the thought of getting caught turns her on massively

Stamina

Mama has crazy stamina ! She can go round after round for hours on end, she'll keep going until you're tired or want to stop

Toys

I can imagine she has a drawer full of toys. Vibrators, straps, clamps and everything else you could think of

Unfair

She can be unfair at times, focusing more on her pleasure than yours but once she realises she's been onky focusing on herself she feels bad and does everything she can to make you feel just as good as she does

Volume

LOUD. SOUND-BARRIER-BREAKINGLY LOUD

Wild Card

She likes people to think she's a dom but she's really a power bottom

eXtreme

As she becomes more familiar with being with women, she does like to experiment with some things that are more on the extreme side

Yearning

She definitely has an intense desire for you, she always wants you, even when ita not for sex, but just to be in your presence

ZZZ

Normally, she'll wait for you to fall asleep and then she'll let herself wind down. She has a routine concerning her hair and makeup both morning and night that she needs to stick to so she waits for you to be comfortable before completing her routine and relaxing herself

[bat-gwuck]

Okay so this is my entry for @drizzledrawings competition!! Get ready for a whole ass fucking wall of text…whoopsie!!

anyway drizzle i love u and ur cowbians they me goofy-grin-on-my-face-kicking-my-feet happy — u and ur art are such an inspiration mwah!!

—

I present to you my entry: Adelaide Forsythe – a travelling scholar and astronomer who’s shifter form is a magpie!

So, starting off with the animal choice. I chose a magpie for two reasons: one, I’m a bird nerd and two, I felt like the symbolism attached to magpies really fit her character??

As a member of the Corvidae family, Magpies are known for being quite intelligent, as well as having a love for shiny objects (get it, get it, she’s a scholar and she loves stars which are SHINY…I’m so smart guys)

BUT BUT BUT there’s a lot of folklore attached to them which I thought was also fitting – my Mum is like *really* superstitious and growing up she always had me salute magpies and you had to ask how its “wife” was doing if it was on its own bc (apparently) if you didn’t you’d be inviting bad luck – there’s a little song/poem that goes “one for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told” so the idea is that if you see a lone magpie its an ill omen so you salute it n stuff to ward all that away bc you don’t have to salute a pair of magpies

Or maybe its just smth my Mum does idk BUT ANYWAY

I thought I could play with this a little bc in some cultures magpies are acc seen as signs of good luck and fortune, which brings me to Adelaide: she is an academic in an untamed land, an outsider among both frontier folk and the scholars who dismissed her, she longs for scientific recognition, yet finds freedom outside of its rigid institutions, she is a woman in a world that has no clear place for her—too independent for England’s high society and yet too refined for the lawless frontier. Like the magpie, she adapts, moving in a space that both welcomes and rejects her.

THEN, you have the “seven for a secret never to be told” which I felt was fitting for a shifter who doesn’t want to be found out AND THEN the “three for a girl, four for a boy” fit a bit as well, as she often poses as a man to further her academic pursuits (bit a stretch, maybe?? but idc im rolling with it)

In addition, magpies were almost hunted to extinction because people were so afraid of them, which I felt also fit with her place as not just a woman, but a woman in academia AND a shifter who’s trying her best not to get found out and skinned or smth. They’re ALSO associated with witchcraft, which fits too!!

Anyway enough about magpies, onto the actual character lmao.

—

Adelaide’s defining trait is her insatiable curiosity. She is a woman who cannot look at the night sky without wondering what lies beyond it, who cannot hear a folk tale without questioning its origins, who cannot witness an injustice without demanding to know why the world is the way it is. She does not simply observe the world—she dissects it. Whether it’s the trajectory of a comet or the migration of birds, she sees patterns and logic in everything. Even when confronted with superstition, she doesn’t scoff outright—she analyzes, compares, and tries to understand why people believe what they do.

She does not downplay her knowledge for the comfort of others. When a man tries to explain something she already knows, she listens politely for about ten seconds before cutting him off with a far more detailed explanation. Her sharp tongue has made her enemies in both academic circles and the rugged frontier. She is rather exacting in her speech, rarely mincing her words. She dislikes vague statements, preferring specificity in all things. When others say "a bright star," she responds with, "Do you mean Sirius, Betelgeuse, or Vega?" This can make her seem arrogant, though in truth, she simply values accuracy. Besides, if anyone has earnt the right to be a bit arrogant, Adelaide would say it’s her.

Yet, for all her logic, there is an undercurrent of childlike wonder beneath her nose-stuck-in-a-book personality. The moment she gazes through her telescope, or rides the wind bathed in starlight, all pretense falls away, and she becomes a child staring at the heavens for the first time again.

Adelaide has always been an outsider, whether in Oxford’s elite intellectual circles or the rugged towns of the West. She does not belong to any one world, and she has long since given up trying to fit in. While she values solitude, there is a quiet ache of loneliness beneath her independence. She spends many nights staring at the sky, comforted by its constancy, yet knowing that the stars cannot speak back to her. In Oxford, she was too bold, too opinionated, too unwilling to be a wife first and a scholar second. In the West, she is too refined, too intellectual, too ignorant of the ways of outlaws and bounty hunters. She is always “too much” or “not enough” for the world around her.

Adelaide does not easily trust others, not just because of her “little secret”. She has met too many people who have either underestimated her or tried to use her intelligence for their own gain. When she does form connections, she values them deeply, though she often struggles to express this in words. Instead, she shows her care through small, practical gestures. Yet, despite her walls, there are moments—rare but profound—when someone earns her trust, and the walls crack just enough for light to slip through.

She keeps meticulous journals filled with astronomical calculations, weather patterns, and folk stories she gathers from the people she meets. Her saddlebags are filled with star charts, old books, and curious trinkets.

Once she sets her mind to something, she will not be dissuaded. If someone tells her a mountain is impossible to climb, she will reach the peak just to prove them wrong. It is both her greatest strength and her biggest flaw.

She has little patience for those who exploit others, whether it be a professor stealing credit for a woman’s discovery or a wealthy rancher cheating his workers. She does not take kindly to men who assume they can buy her loyalty or silence.

Though she claims she prefers to stay out of trouble, she has a habit of stepping in when someone is being mistreated. She does not pick fights often, but when she does, her words cut deeper than bullets. Adelaide does not resort to violence unless absolutely necessary, but she will ruin a man’s reputation, expose a fraud, or leave damning evidence where the right people can find it. She believes in the long game – vengeance is best served cold, calculated, and with irrefutable proof. She did learn some things from her upper class upbringing, after all.

Beneath her sharp intellect and hardened exterior, Adelaide has a deeply buried, fragile softness – one she rarely allows herself to indulge. She denies being sentimental, yet she cannot help but stop to admire a field of wildflowers or the way the Milky Way stretches across the sky. She has a poetic way of describing the cosmos, though she would never call herself a poet. Though she claims she does not care for fame, a small part of her fears that when she is gone, her work will be erased, her name lost. She has spent her life chasing knowledge, but in the quietest moments, she often wonders if anyone will remember her.

—

Born in 1871 in Oxford, England, Adelaide Forsythe was the only child of Dr. Reginald Forsythe, a respected academic who specialised in mathematics and astronomy, and Margaret Forsythe, a woman of high social standing whose primary concern was ensuring her daughter’s successful integration into elite society. While Margaret sought to mold Adelaide into a proper young lady—one who would marry well and host extravagant dinner parties—Reginald saw his daughter’s keen mind and indulged her curiosity, albeit discreetly.

The Forsythe line carried old magic, ancient and restless, passed down in blood and bone. It was not the magic of spells or incantations, but of transformation—of slipping between forms, of becoming something other, something free.

Adelaide had been standing on the balcony of their estate, staring up at the night sky, when a sudden pull overtook her. Her skin burned, her bones ached, and before she could cry out, the world tilted. The next thing she knew, she was plummeting through the air — not falling, but flying. Tiny wings beat frantically as instinct overrode panic, and she soared above the rooftops, free in a way she had never known before.

And then she crashed, hard, into a chimney stack and tumbled ungracefully to the ground.

Her mother found her shivering in the garden at dawn. There were no screams, no hysteria — only a cold stare, a tight grip on Adelaide’s wrist, and a warning whispered with more force than any slap:

"You will never do that again. Do you understand me?"

Frightened by her parent’s stories of torture, death and other such things, Adelaide was keen to agree with her mother.

But nature does not forget so easily.

—

As a young girl, Adelaide would sneak into her father’s study late at night, pouring over his scientific texts by candlelight. The first time she glimpsed Saturn’s rings through a telescope at the age of ten, she was transfixed. The chaos and expectations of human society seemed so small compared to the great, unending vastness that was the universe. She devoured every book she could find, often pestering her father’s academic colleagues with endless questions during social gatherings.

Her precocious nature made her an outlier among other girls her age. She had no interest in embroidery, courtship, or fashionable gossip. When she was fifteen, her mother caught her sneaking into her father’s lectures disguised in her brother’s old coat and hat. Furious and humiliated, Margaret demanded her father put an end to her academic pursuits, fearing that no reputable man would ever marry a woman who thought herself equal to scholars. But Reginald, torn between duty to his wife and pride in his daughter’s intellect, found a compromise — he arranged private lessons with an old friend, Professor William Crenshaw, one of the foremost astronomers of the era.

By the age of twenty, Adelaide was unofficially assisting at a local observatory, analyzing star catalogs, observing planetary movements, and even drafting papers under her brother’s name (Adam, who had wholeheartedly agreed to the plan) to bypass gender restrictions in scientific publishing. She developed a reputation for being fiercely intelligent but also unyielding, unwilling to temper her opinions for the comfort of her male peers.

Her greatest challenge, however, was not the task of unravelling the mysteries of the universe but the narrow minds of her peers. While some admired her brilliance, others saw her presence as a scandalous threat. When a comet she helped chart was credited to a male assistant instead of her, Adelaide protested openly. “If a woman’s eyes can see as far as a man’s, then her name should reach just as far,” she argued. Her defiance earned her both admiration and ire.

In 1891, her growing reputation secured her an invitation to travel westward to Lemoyne to observe a rare solar eclipse. This would be her first real taste of life beyond the confines of academia and upper class English society.

Lemoyne was unlike anything Adelaide had ever known—rugged, lawless, and ungoverned by the rigid structures she was so used to back home. The journey was treacherous; the expedition was plagued by broken equipment, aggressive wildlife, and even an attempted robbery by outlaws. Adelaide, having never fired a gun in her life, was nearly helpless, relying on the protection of local guides and her quick wit to survive.

Despite the hardships, she made her way to the observation site and witnessed the total eclipse—a perfect black void swallowing the sun, a fleeting moment of cosmic wonder. As she gazed at the event through her telescope, surrounded by untamed wilderness instead of university halls, something within her shifted. The American West was a world of mystery and discovery in its own right, she thought.

When she returned to England, she found herself restless. The constraints of her life now felt suffocating.

It was misfortune that eventually spurred her onwards. During a risky midnight flight, Adelaide had injured her wing, and as such, was stuck in her form for a while. A colleague of hers had found her near the University and had taken it upon himself to care for her — much to her horror, and her gratitude. Adelaide had hoped to escape before he found out but it was not to be. Upon finding not a freshly healed magpie, but a grown woman in his kitchen, the man understandably freaked out. He threatened to expose her secret — stating that she was to step down from her post if she wanted to (quite literally) save her skin.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Adelaide set out for the Americas once again — this time alone. With nothing but a collapsible brass telescope, a collection of notebooks, and a revolver she barely knew how to use, she sailed westward, determined to document the night sky from places few had ever studied before.

She traveled from town to town, funding her journey by selling star charts, lecturing at any schools that would take her (which were few and far between), as well as a sizeable fund from her father, who had helped her flee. She often sought out high ground, camping alone in the mountains or vast plains, sketching the heavens by firelight.

But the frontier was dangerous, and a woman traveling alone is easy prey, especially one of “her kind”. She learned to navigate both the celestial sphere and the lawless lands beneath it. She bribed hunters to look the other way, outwitted charlatans who sought to take advantage of her, and, after a close brush with a gang of highwaymen in New Austin, reluctantly learned how to use her revolver. Though not a natural fighter, she became adept at using her intellect to survive, talking her way out of most trouble before bullets were needed.

By 1899, the world was changing. The frontier was vanishing, swallowed by railroads and industry. Scientific institutions back east were growing in prestige, but still refused to fully recognize women.

Eleanor found herself caught between multiple worlds — too independent for the constraints of academia, too refined for the lawless plains of the West and too wild, too different for all of them.

She had spent years mapping the stars, but her greatest challenge remained: carving out a place where she, and her work, could live and be remembered.

She would never be a wife waiting at home, nor a delicate lady confined to parlors and polite conversation. Nor would she be held down and restrained because of the blood that ran through her veins.

She was a scholar, an explorer, a collector of knowledge and forgotten stories. A woman with a revolver in one hand and a telescope in the other, chasing the stars and riding the wind before the West faded into memory.

Because the world will change, the frontier will disappear, and one day, even the names of its greatest outlaws will be forgotten.

But the stars will remain. And so will she.

Either way, Adelaide would continue to look skyward, seeking answers in the infinite dark.

—

Okay so that’s the end (so far)!! Hope you enjoyed!! I might expand on her and give her some friends (maybe even a girlfriend…heh) later but idk??

P.S. Adelaide would def be besties with that palaeontologist you meet who gives you that dino bone quest

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Tim falling for you

Tim Bradford x reader

warnings:

a/n: im gonna be so honest i love him your honor

prompt: @sacredwarrior88: “May I please request headcanons for Tim falling in love with a female detective who's also a veteran and swore off love and relationships after her divorce?”

you’d just transferred to mid wilshire a few months prior

and from the moment tim heard you complaining about discipline and rookies needing a kick in the ass—he was head over heels

you were also a veteran, he felt a connection with you for that

he’d always make small talk with you

“so, where’d you serve?” -tim

he was cute and all, you just weren’t ready to fall in love again—or ever

“you know, i think tim really likes you, l/n” -lucy

“oh, i know” -you “you don’t become a sergeant in the army and not be able to tell when a boy has a crush on you”

“so? you don’t like him back or something. he’s a great guy, he was my TO. i mean, he’s a hard ass, but like, he’s a great guy” -lucy

“i appreciate you trying to help, but i’m not here looking for a relationship, chen” -you

harper and lopez would rag on him constantly for not making a move

“they just got here, i’ll give it a few more months” -tim

“it’s been a few months, what’s really going on?” -lopez

“yeah, bradford, i never took you for a shy guy” -harper

“we’ve been out for a few beers, it’s just…” -tim

“well, spit it out!” -lopez

“y/n just got divorced and told me they don’t want to get into anything serious—ever again” -tim

“wow, your dream partner just walks into your life and is unattainable by means of hating all men” -harper

“well, you thought you’d never find love again after your divorce and look at how far you’ve come, tim. at least give it a little time” -lopez

“isn’t that what i just said?” -tim

“i get where y/n’s coming from, though. i mean, after i got divorced i was over all men forever. now i’ve got a husband and another beautiful daughter” -harper

tim felt really discouraged, he thought you were perfect for him but he understood that dating a coworker was complicated. so was divorce

but instead of trying to get you, he tried to be there for you

“how’ve you been. new station, new city, new start?” -tim

“it’s fine. taking it day by day” -you

“you know, i could give you some good restaurant recommendations or something?” -tim

“no thanks, lucy beat you to it” -you

“of course she did. you know, she used to be my rookie” -tim

“she told me right after she told me you have a crush on me” -you

tim got red in the face very fast

and you made sure to keep your composure just long enough to make it awkward

“she…she did, did she?” -tim, through clenched teeth

“yep” -you, starting to laugh

“you’re messing with me” -tim

“i’m not, actually. i just think its cute you’re embarrassed” -you “but you already know my story”

“i do. and i hope you can take the time you need before you agree to go out with me, because i don’t think i’m gonna get you out of my head anytime soon” -tim

“ooh, sergeant bradford, i didn’t think i’d get to see this side of you. you’re always tripping over your words with me” -you

“well, i had a helpful talk with some meddling detectives” -tim

“i can take a guess who you’re referring to” -you

“i’d love to grab a beer with you sometime if you’re not ready to date yet, but i’d love to grab dinner with you if you are” -tim

“i’ll give dinner a thought, but for now drinks will do” -you

tim started treating you mostly normal and getting his confidence back since spilling his guts to you over drinks, and the girls were cheering him on every time you were within 20 feet of each other

he started treating you professionally, with a few winks and sly comments here and there

“so, you’re giving bradford a chance?” -lopez

“i’m giving a chance to giving him a chance” -you

“i feel you there, after my divorce i couldn’t imagine dating again, but i’m glad i found it in me to give my husband a chance” -harper

“he’s a good one?” -you

“eh, i’d give him a solid 6 out of 10” -lopez

“yeah? well i’ve been debating taking him up on that dinner, but that six rating really convinced me” -you

you finally found caught tim after shift and gave him the good news and he couldn’t be more excited

really, he’d been planning this date for weeks

and it went amazingly

“can i kiss you?” -tim

“only if you want to” -you

taglist: @summersimmerus //

[nanami-is-nanamean]

Hi. I have seen a nerdjo fanart and went a little insane.

I specifically saw this art--

and like LJKHFGLKJSHLDFKhGKLSD i know its satosugu or some kind of self insert bUT HEAR ME OUT OKAY--

the thought of a nerdjo nanago where GOJO is the straightlaced person in the relationship while NANAMI is the "bad influence" rough and tough bad guy iS SO GOOD TO MEEEEEEE

BECAUSE LIKE--

we all collectively hc nanami as being some kind of emo punk in hs or at the very least got into some bullshit during his uni/college years when he got out of juju tech and this is just its Natural Conclusion OKAY-- IM NOT INSANE BUT I WILL ADMIT THAT I AM GOING FERAL

Because like-- imagine a college au where gojo and nanami are assigned to be each others tutors in their respective fields (gojo with physics and nanami in economics). Gojo is painting this picture of a mean, money focused economics student that would rather look at the stock market than entertain theoretical physics, a subject that wont really affect his life before meeting him

But then they actually meet each other for their study session for the first time and oh god gojos never felt this gay before-- other than the time that gojo discovered he was gay, dear LORD he didnt feel that bad before KJLGSDGDL

Because while yeah, nanami did show up rockin the stereotypical hoity toity econ student fit-- glasses, collared shirt, watch, shined shoes-- he didnt expect him to be built like a brick shithouse, okay. And even as he fell back on his tried and true method of getting back into focus (which is breaking things down using physics to figure out how they interact with the world), even that failed because he started wondering about the physics of fabrics and how they didnt rip yet from such huge rippling muscles

He does manage to get through the tutoring lesson safely and, thank god it was the physics lesson first because if he had to sit there listening to nanamis voice talk about literally anything for extended periods of time, he may turn into a puddle. As gojo packs up, both his materials and his thoughts that are steering WILDLY into inappropriate territory, he resigns himself into being the fushiguros babysitter for the next 3 weeks because cleaning up baby diapers are the fastest way to get rid of a boner and he cant be popping those everytime hes around nanami

So imagine gojos surprise when nanami hesitates a bit before he leaves. "Are you busy tonight?" "...what?" "Are you busy tonight." "Uhm..."

Is this it? Is his 1 to 2 hour long crush discovered? Is nanami actually straight, found out his gayness, and decided to destroy him????

"...I noticed you didn't have anything down on your planner. A friend of mine got sick, so now im kind of going alone to this concert." "...Oh! Aren't you gonna--" "Sell the ticket? No, its... not really a concert, its an underground diy venue. its more live music in a bar, than an actual concert you buy tickets to. you get to find a lot of small starting artists. its pretty good." "...so youre saying is, there's no ticket to sell?"

gojo's breath hitches, as his deep chuckle graces his ears. "yeah, no tickets." his face is warm, and he has no idea if it shows. nanamis eyes tear themselves away from wherever they roamed and met his again. "you wanna come?" "y-yeah! yeah sure, im down."

he really fumbled the delivery on that one, but thank god nanami seems to like clumsy people because that just widened the small smile on his face. "that's good. see you 8 down at the lawsons?" "8 at the lawsons, yeah sure okay--" a nod, a grin, and he walks off.

Triple Threat Tokyo Groupchat

Sight Impediment: @/Dr. House Kinnie @/The Ball Vorer help what should i wear to an underground bar Dr. House Kinnie: wtf happened on that tutoring session gay boi The Ball Vorer: what else dude, he was being gay Sight Impediment: YOU GUYS ARENT HELPING

[elliezlils11utt]

i couldn’t see if you were taking requests are not anywhere, so if you aren’t just ignore this and i’m sorry!!

i wanted to request an ellie x reader, maybe like college!au where reader has internalised homophobia. angst or comfort, whichever you like more 😋

love youu have a good day💗

hi hi ml! sorry this took so long to get out! im finally clearing out my inbox, so if youve sent me a request it will be out by valentines day weekend! <33 this is short and sweet. ive never experienced internalized homophobia so this was a bit tricky but hope you enjoy.

~~~

“baby, you know its okay right?” your jaw clenched at the pet name. ellie’s voice rings through your phone as you lay sprawled out on your dorm bed.

“please stop calling me that.”

“okay, look im sorry.”

silence.

“i have this powerful magnet in my tummy pulling me towards you, but its wrong ellie. im not- you know.. like you.”

“like me?” she snaps.

“ellie c’mon. don’t be like that. you know what i mean.” your sat at the edge of your bed now, free hand raking through your hair.

“mhm. you like me though?”

“well. yes.”

“but you don’t like girls?”

“elli-”

“right. i get i, i really do. but i can’t keep doing this with you. call me when you figure your shit out y/n” her voice so bluntly cuts off as she hangs up. your left with your thoughts just as fucked as they were at the start of the call. if not worse. ellie has been on your ass ever since the first kiss. when you initiated it. your confused is all, you couldn’t like girls? i mean that’s wrong. its not you. so how could you like ellie? its a fluke. you can like ellie and not be queer. right? god your entire world is being flipped upside down just thinking about any of this. everything you thought you knew about yourself being rewritten by this fucking loser brunette that you cant seem to get out of your head. tears spill from your eyes lightly falling onto your phone.

you: “i like you. i like girls. i just hate myself for it.”

els: “dont y/n, your perfect. okay?”

els: “im omw. i need to see you.”

els: “door unlocked?”

you: “for you?

you: “always.”

when ellie clicks the door open your balled up on your bed. she swings her bag onto the floor.

“oh baby.” with her words comes her quick arms pulling you close to her.

“im sorry,” you sob.

“i know. i know.”

“liking you, means hating myself.”

[g3tinl0ser]

Masterlist

🦇

im not really sure how i feel about this chapter. i feel like I just rambled on but maybe its good? i kept getting discombobulated. LMK

<<<Previous

The warehouse was dimly lit, the flickering overhead bulbs casting long, jagged shadows along the cracked concrete floor. The air was thick with the scent of oil, blood, and something distinctly rotten. And at the center of it all was you, on your knees, the Joker’s arm curled around your shoulders like a twisted embrace, his knife pressed cold and sharp against your throat.

Batman stood a few yards away, every muscle in his body coiled like a wire stretched too tight. Nightwing and Robin flanked him, their usual unwavering confidence shaken. This wasn’t just another hostage situation—this was you.

The Joker cackled, the sound grating and wild as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, Batsy,” he cooed, twisting the knife just enough to make you inhale sharply. “I can feel how mad you are. This is delicious.”

Batman didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. But under the cowl, behind the cold steel of his voice, he was afraid.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were never supposed to be caught in this world.

“Let. Her. Go.” His voice was a razor’s edge, controlled but deadly.

The Joker sighed dramatically, tilting his head. “Oh, come on, you don’t even wanna hear my big reveal? I mean, I worked so hard to put this little puzzle together. Had to do so much digging.” His grip on you tightened, making you wince. “But I know, Batsy. And so does she.”

Robin—Jason—shifted beside him, his fists clenching at his sides. His father’s tension was infectious, sinking into his bones.

“Ohh, Little Bird,” the Joker grinned, eyes flicking to Robin. “Don’t look so tense! This must be fun for you, right? Seeing Bats all desperate for once?”

Nightwing took a slow step forward. “Joker,” his voice was smooth, steady—practiced, “if you know who he is, then you know you’re not walking out of here tonight.”

The Joker grinned wider, his grip tightening on the knife. “Ohhh, I know that,” he purred. “But the real question is… what’s he willing to do to stop me from spilling?”

Batman didn’t react. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Because the moment he gave anything away, it was over.

Joker laughed again, shaking his head. “See, that’s the thing. You can keep playing pretend all you want, but she—” he yanked you closer, your hair in his tight grip, making you suck in a sharp breath, “—she already knows. She’s seen the man under the mask.” He turned his head slightly, whispering against your cheek, “And tell me, sweetheart… is he as good as everyone thinks?”

The knife pressed just a little harder, a single drop beading at your skin and Batman moved.

It was a blur, faster than the Joker expected—faster than anyone expected. His hand shot forward, grabbing the Joker’s wrist in an iron grip, twisting it back at a sickening angle until something cracked and the knife clattered to the floor.

Joker howled in pain, but his laughter bubbled up beneath it, delighted and manic.

“Touched a nerve, did I?” he wheezed.

Batman didn’t answer. He tore you away from the Joker’s grip, pulling you behind him with a gentleness that betrayed the rage boiling just beneath his surface.

The moment you were safe, the boys moved.

Robin struck first, his blade flashing as he kicked the Joker’s legs out from under him. Nightwing followed up in perfect tandem, slamming a fist into his jaw with enough force to send him sprawling.

Even as he lay there, groaning in pain, the Joker laughed.

“You know I’m right,” he cackled, looking up at Batman with bloodied teeth. “This changes everything.”

Batman loomed over him, fists clenching at his sides.

Then, slowly, he crouched down, his voice dropping to something only the Joker could hear.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

The Joker’s grin faltered for just a second before it was wiped away by Robin’s boot slamming into his ribs.

The fight was over. The GCPD would be here soon.

But as Batman turned to look at you—shaking, gripping the place on your neck where the knife had been—he knew the damage was already done.

This was the first time his two worlds had truly collided.

And it terrified him.

The room was silent as the video ended. The grainy security footage of that hellish warehouse flickered off the screen, leaving only the tense air that settled over the Avengers like a heavy weight.

Natasha’s jaw was tight, arms crossed over her chest as she processed what they had just seen. Steve exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face, while Sam and Bucky shared a look. Thor’s grip on Mjolnir tightened.

And then, of course, Tony broke the silence.

“Well. That was interesting.” He turned away from the screen, pacing slightly before spinning on his heel and pointing at the blank monitor. “She knows who Batman is.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “That’s what you got from that?”

Tony scoffed. “It’s not just that she knows, Red. It’s that she’s obviously close to him. Very close. And let’s not forget who she’s married to.”

Steve frowned. “You think she betrayed Bruce Wayne?”

Tony threw his hands up. “I’m saying it’s convenient, don’t you think? Wayne’s wife gets taken hostage, and Batman just happens to show up? He’s willing to work with us because of her? Maybe Batman has a little soft spot for Mrs. Wayne, huh?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch it, Stark.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh, turning back to her. “Oh, come on, Natasha. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it! She clearly knows exactly who’s under that mask, and you’re telling me that doesn’t strike you as suspicious? She gets taken, Joker hints at knowing Batman’s big secret, and suddenly the League is playing nice with us?” He tilted his head. “You sure your friend isn’t playing both sides?”

The slap of Natasha’s hands hitting the table echoed through the room. “You really wanna test me right now, Tony?”

Tony arched a brow, unbothered. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re just talking out of your ass,” Natasha snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.”

“She’s married to Bruce Wayne!” Tony shot back. “You know—the guy funding half the League? The billionaire playboy who’s never been tied down? And yet she’s got some deep connection to Batman? That doesn’t scream a conflict of interest to you. Its not like it would be out of her wheelhouse to sleep above her job station.”

“You are so damn arrogant,” Natasha seethed. “You think you can just say whatever you want and not deal with the consequences? She has been my friend for years. She’s a good person, Tony. Better than you on your best day.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “All I’m saying is, if she knows, then she’s keeping secrets from her husband. And if she’s keeping secrets from him, then what’s stopping her from keeping secrets from us?”

Natasha’s hands curled into fists, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to lunge at him.

Steve finally stepped between them, holding up a hand. “Enough.” His voice was firm, cutting through the tension. He turned to Tony. “We’re not jumping to conclusions. We don’t have the full picture, and assuming the worst is only going to make things worse.”

Tony shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned away.

Natasha wasn’t done, though. She stepped forward, her voice lower but no less venomous. “You don’t get to talk about betrayal, Stark. Not after the way you treat people. Not after the way you treated HER! If she’s keeping a secret, it’s for a damn good reason. And I trust her a hell of a lot more than I trust you.”

Tony didn’t reply. He just stared at the blank screen, his mind turning.

Because no matter what anyone said, one thing was crystal clear—

You knew who Batman was.

And Tony Stark was going to figure out why.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you stood in front of the gathered Avengers, all geared up like they were about to storm an enemy stronghold. Well—except Bruce. At least one of them had some sense.

Still, the sight of Tony Stark standing there, smug as ever in his suit, made your blood boil. If it weren’t for your duty to Bruce, you wouldn’t be here, playing glorified chauffeur to people you could barely tolerate. But this was part of the deal. Part of your responsibility.

Didn’t mean you had to like it.

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Alright, children, listen up. Everybody grab a hand and hold on tight. No letting go, no wandering off, and maybe hold your breath unless you want to find out what interdimensional travel feels like in your lungs.”

Sam frowned. “Wait, what?”

But before anyone could protest further, you activated the transport. The bright flash of light engulfed you all, and a second later.

You landed in the Watchtower, you had to plant your feet firmly on the ground to keep from swaying. You’d done this jump enough times that the nausea barely registered, but some of the Avengers weren’t as lucky.

Bucky gripped the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright, Sam muttered something about “never getting used to this damn space magic,” and even Steve looked like he was recalibrating his balance. Thor adjusted quickly—because of course he did—but Tony, ever the loudest in the room, groaned dramatically.

“Jesus, remind me why we couldn’t have taken a nice, normal Quinjet?”

"Sorry," you said lightly. "I'd say you get used to it, but… sometimes you don't."

Once everyone had straightened up, you turned to lead them toward the meeting room. They tried to take in as much as they could, their heads turning as they walked, but the Watchtower wasn’t designed for easy prying eyes. The halls were clean and sleek, giving away nothing, which clearly frustrated Stark.

“So,” Tony said, falling into step beside you, voice laced with faux curiosity. “Where’s your husband, Mrs. Wayne?”

You knew that tone. He wasn’t just asking where Bruce was—he was implying something. You could feel the weight of everyone’s attention shifting toward you.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.

"Why?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Tony smirked, but his eyes were calculating. “Just wondering how much Mr. Wayne knows about how close you and Batman seem to be.”

There it was.

Bucky’s gaze snapped toward Stark, his expression darkening. Natasha inhaled sharply through her nose, already bracing for your reaction. Sam muttered something under his breath, shaking his head. Even Steve looked uncomfortable.

You, however, just smiled.

"You mean the Batman who’s saved my life more times than I can count? The one I work closely with because my husband is a major financial backer of the League?” You tilted your head, voice calm but sharp as glass. “Tell me, Tony, do you get this weird about Pepper working with superheroes, or is it just me?"

Tony’s smirk faltered for half a second before he recovered. “Hey, I just call it like I see it.”

"And I call it like I see it," a deep voice rumbled from up ahead.

Arthur Curry—Aquaman—stepped into the hall, golden eyes locked onto Stark with clear disapproval.

“Is he bothering you?” Arthur asked, voice casual, but his glare anything but.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Relax, Fish King, just having a friendly chat.”

Arthur’s gaze didn’t waver. “Should I toss him in a tank or out an airlock?”

You smiled sweetly. “As fun as that sounds, let’s save it for later.”

Arthur grunted but didn’t back down, still staring at Stark like he was weighing whether or not he was worth the effort.

You patted Arthur’s arm before turning back toward the meeting room. “Come on. The faster we get this over with, the sooner you all stop testing my patience.”

Tony scoffed but didn’t push his luck further.

Natasha, however, smirked as she followed you. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

The doors slid open, and you strode into the meeting room ahead of the Avengers, your patience already thin from the trip up here. The Justice League members were already gathered around the large circular table, the Watchtower’s vast windows making the space feel both open and imposing.

You made a beeline for Black Canary, who was standing near Green Arrow, arms crossed and looking only mildly interested in whatever was about to happen. This was only her second time here, and you could tell she was still adjusting. You gave her a quick smirk.

“Welcome to the madness,” you murmured.  “You should have seen them when they landed. Half of them nearly lost their breakfast.”

She huffed a soft laugh. “I’ve been in fights that were quieter than this.” her arms crossed, expression amused as she took in the sight of the Avengers in full battle gear.

Before you could say anything else, a rich, melodic laugh echoed through the room.

Diana.

She leaned against the table, arms folded, wearing a simple fitted sweater and dark jeans—practical, casual, comfortable. Like many of the League members in attendance, she was dressed as a civilian. Only those who protected secret identities were in full gear.

Her gaze swept over the Avengers before settling on Steve, her lips twitching. “Tell me,” she said, tilting her head, “why are you all in battle armor when the world already knows who you are?”

She, like many of the League members, was dressed down—jeans and a soft sweater, looking entirely at ease. Only those who had secret identities—Batman, Robin, and a few others—were in uniform.

The Avengers hesitated.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. Bucky just sighed. Steve looked vaguely embarrassed but stood tall.

Tony, of course, had to open his mouth. “Well, excuse us, Princess—”

“I’d advise against finishing that sentence,” you muttered under your breath, but he ignored you.

“—but we actually like to be prepared. Unlike you guys, some of us don’t have fancy alien muscles or magical lasso tricks to back us up.”

Diana raised a single brow, entirely unimpressed.

Diana arched a brow, utterly unimpressed. “The world knows who we are. There’s no need for theatrics.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, because Iron Man is completely defenseless.”

Before the conversation could spiral, a deep voice cut through the chatter like a blade.

Batman, standing at the head of the table, didn’t so much as flinch at the growing tension. He merely leaned forward slightly, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

“Enough.”

The single word carried weight, and the room silenced.

Bruce’s eyes locked onto Tony’s. “You wanted a meeting, Stark. Get to the point.”

Steve looked frustrated, arms crossed over his chest as he turned to glare at Tony. “You told us Batman called this meeting.” His voice was tight, barely restrained. “That he had stipulations to wanting to work with us.”

Tony shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “Yeah, well, I might’ve embellished a little. But come on, Cap, you think Gotham’s very own cryptid would willingly reach out first?”

Steve’s jaw tensed, but before he could argue, Tony continued, his tone shifting to something far too casual. “Honestly, while we’re on the subject, I don’t think there should be secret identities. We’re all supposed to be on the same side, right? We fight for the same things, so why the hell are some of us still playing hide-and-seek?”

A few murmurs spread through the room, some from the League, some from the Avengers. Diana sighed, Oliver muttered something under his breath, and J’onn simply observed.

You, however, were already shaking your head. “No.”

Tony turned to you, brows lifting in mock surprise. “Oh, here we go.”

You took a step forward, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “I didn’t help broker this agreement between the League and the Avengers just for you to come here and stir up drama, Tony. You agreed to this alliance, so act like it.”

He scoffed, throwing a hand in the air. “Oh, please, don’t act like I’m the bad guy for saying what everyone else is thinking. If we’re really working together, then we should all be honest with each other. No masks. No secrets rendezvous`. No—”

CRACK.

The sharp sound of Batman’s gloved hand slamming against the table echoed through the room, cutting Tony off mid-sentence.

Tony froze. Everyone did.

Then, slowly, Batman stood.

The room seemed smaller with him standing. His cape barely shifted, but his presence alone felt heavier, darker. He wasn’t raising his voice, wasn’t even looking at Tony directly—just through him.

“You don’t get to make demands here,” Batman said, voice low and cold. “You don’t get to dictate how the League operates.”

Tony, for all his bravado, hesitated.

Batman leaned forward slightly, placing both hands on the table, his cowl casting shadows over the lower half of his face. “If you have an issue with how we do things, then you’re free to leave.”

Silence.

Tension crackled like a live wire.

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it.

No one moved.

And then, finally, he scoffed, looking away with an eye roll. “Jesus. Fine.” He threw himself back into his chair, arms crossing. “No need to get all batty about it.”

Batman didn’t sit. He didn’t even acknowledge the attempt at humor. He just stayed exactly where he was—looming, unyielding.

And just like that, Tony didn’t have another word to say.

As the meeting wrapped up, patrols were assigned, and territories marked for joint operations. The League made it clear—there were other heroes, other forces at play—but trust had to be built before the Avengers would be privy to anything beyond this initial partnership.

Batman sat motionless, absorbing every word, yet his gaze never wavered from Tony. He processed the strategies, the schedules, but underneath it all, he was planning. Scheming.

Because Batman couldn’t deal with this right now. Not like this. Not in this setting.

But soon, Bruce Wayne would handle it.

The Avengers began to break into their own conversations as the tension in the room dissipated. Natasha and Bucky had drawn you into a quiet conversation about their wedding—Nat smirking, Bucky shaking his head as you laughed.

Across the room, Diana’s melodic laughter echoed as Thor animatedly spoke with her, likely attempting to make amends for the battle gear comments earlier.

Meanwhile, Steve hesitated for a moment before finally making his way toward Batman.

“I shouldn’t have let it get to that point,” Steve admitted, standing beside the chair Tony had vacated. “Tony’s…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s Tony. He thinks he’s helping, even when he’s making things worse.”

Batman didn’t move.

Steve continued, keeping his voice low. “I just wanted to say—I appreciate you hearing us out. And I get it. Trust takes time.” His eyes flicked over to where you stood, listening intently as Natasha showed you something on her phone. “But… I hope this alliance can work. That we can work.”

Batman finally turned his head, just enough to glance at Steve. “That depends on Stark.”

Steve let out a quiet breath, nodding. “Yeah. I figured.”

Batman gave nothing else. No reassurance, no confirmation—just an unreadable stare before shifting his gaze back to the room.

Steve didn’t push for more. He’d done what he came to do.

As the Avengers prepared to leave, Batman remained exactly where he was, unmoving. His mind was already elsewhere, already planning the next step.

Because this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Leading the Avengers back into the hall, you kept your head high, ignoring Tony’s grumbling and Wanda’s amused side-eye. You just wanted to get this over with.

But then you made the mistake of glancing back.

Bruce was still at the table, leaned back in his chair, manspreading like he had no care in the world. His thick, delicious thighs were tense beneath his suits, one hand gripping the armrest tightly, the other lazily propping up his head as he watched you.

Heat curled up your spine.

You should care. You should worry about what the others were going to say, about the way they’d been side-eyeing you both throughout the meeting. But you didn’t.

Because you saw it.

You saw the way Nat smirked knowingly, the way Wanda’s eyes flickered between you and Bruce, the way Bucky and even Steve had stolen glances at your man.

And Bruce? He didn’t even pretend to hide it—his sharp, burning gaze locked onto you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.

“See ya later,” you said sweetly, watching his lips twitch and his eyes soften just a fraction.

The doors shut behind you, and as soon as they did, Nat and Wanda pounced.

“Oh, you are in trouble,” Wanda teased, linking her arm through yours.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you?” Nat smirked. “Like he was starving.”

You giggled, warmth still lingering in your chest as you led them away, already knowing this was going to be a very long conversation home.

As soon as the doors slid shut behind the Avengers, the room was silent for a beat. Then, Arthur let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mused, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Out of all of us, you were the biggest worry, Bats.”

A few others murmured their agreement, smirks and knowing glances passed around the table. Even J’onn, normally unreadable, looked faintly amused.

Bruce exhaled through his nose, unimpressed but unsurprised. He slowly stood, “I’ll be fine,” he said simply, his voice calm and measured. “As long as Stark is respectful of the League… and respectful of my wife.”

The weight of that word settled over the room. His wife.

Diana smiled knowingly, her arms crossed as she watched him. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say it like that in the suit.”

Bruce didn’t acknowledge it. He just pushed his chair in.

“If we’re done here,” he said smoothly, “I have somewhere to be.”

Barry snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Go home to your wife, Bats.”

Bruce didn’t dignify that with a response. But as he turned to leave, there was a slight curve to his lips, the closest thing to a smirk they’d seen from him in years.

The Batcave was dimly lit, the glow from the monitors casting sharp shadows across the space. Bruce sat in his chair, dressed down in sweats and a fitted black shirt, his socked feet resting on the edge of the console as he watched the feeds from patrol. Jason and Dick were out, their voices crackling through the comms as they bantered back and forth. It was a quiet night.

Still, you could tell he was wound tight. His jaw was clenched, his fingers tapping against the armrest in agitation.

Without a word, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the crease in his forehead. He groaned, exhaling heavily as his arms instinctively curled around your waist.

“I hate him,” Bruce muttered, tilting his head back against the chair.

You giggled, fingers brushing through his hair. “You hate a lot of people, babe.”

“This is different,” he grumbled. “He’s obnoxious.”

You hummed in agreement, but as you thought back to what Tony had implied earlier, your amusement faded. Your fingers traced the seam of his shirt absentmindedly before you finally sighed and fully sat on his thighs.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Bruce’s grip on your thighs tightened slightly, his thumbs moving in slow, soothing circles. “What is it?”

You swallowed, hating the way your chest tightened. “Tony was insinuating that I was cheating on you.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“With Batman,” you clarified, voice thick with frustration.

His hands stilled. “He—”

“He doesn’t know, I know..” you cut in quickly. “But he thinks I’m sneaking around behind Bruce Wayne’s back with Batman, and that’s why the League is willing to work with them.”

Bruce inhaled sharply through his nose, trying to stay calm, but you could feel the tension rolling through his body.

You shook your head, voice cracking slightly. “Like I’m just— Like I knew he was engaged when I got pregnant.” You clenched your fists against his chest, willing the burn in your eyes to go away. “I didn’t know. I didn’t do anything wrong, and yet somehow I’m still the one who—”

Your voice broke, and Bruce was quick to reach up, gently wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know you didn’t.”

You leaned into his touch, exhaling shakily.

Neither of you noticed the small figure standing just a few feet away, listening.

Damian had come down quietly, drawn by the sound of your voice. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but as he stood in the shadows, hearing your pain—he felt something in his chest tighten.

He’d always known the facts about his biological father. But hearing you like this? Hearing the weight of it in your voice?

He turned on his heel and left as quietly as he had come, fists clenched at his sides.

Tim barely had time to react. One second, he was hunched over the open hood of the car, adjusting a few components. The next, a weighted ball came hurtling through the air straight for the windshield he had just replaced.

“Shit!” he yelped, diving to the side, barely catching it before it made impact. He landed on the concrete floor with a grunt, holding the ball against his chest as he blinked up at the ceiling in disbelief.

Stephanie, who had chased Damian out to the garage, winced. “Okay… that was a bit of an overreaction.”

Tim pushed himself up onto his elbows, narrowing his eyes at Damian. “Dude, I just replaced that.”

Damian stood a few feet away, his chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. His face was flushed from the effort of his throw, but more than that, he looked angry—his eyes wild, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

Tim sat up fully, tossing the ball to the side before he slowly dusted himself off. “Alright,” he muttered. “What’s your problem?”

Damian didn’t answer.

Stephanie crossed her arms, taking a slow step closer. “Come on, Dami. Talk to us.”

“Why?” Damian snapped, voice sharp and bitter. His hands clenched even tighter, nails digging into his palms. “Why should I? It doesn’t change anything.”

Tim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d seen Damian upset plenty of times before—but this? This wasn’t just anger. This was something deeper. He kinda wished Jason was here.

“What happened?” Tim asked, this time gentler.

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose. He turned away, gripping the edge of the nearest workbench so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I heard her,” he muttered.

Stephanie and Tim exchanged a look.

“Heard who?” she pressed.

Damian’s jaw tensed. “Mother.”

Realization dawned on Tim’s face, he must had overheard you talking about something private, that wasnt meant for him for a reason. His expression softened as he carefully placed the wrench he was holding onto the table.

Damian swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the wood. “I heard her talking to Father about him.” His voice dropped, but they could still hear the anger simmering beneath it. “About how Stark is spreading lies. About how he’s making it seem like she did something wrong—like she knew about his engagement. Like she’s cheating on dad—” He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. “She didn’t even do anything, and she’s the one being judged for it.”

Stephanie frowned, stepping closer. “And that’s what’s bothering you?”

Damian whirled on her, eyes burning. “Of course it is!” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “Why does MY MOTHER have to justify herself when he was the one who abandoned us? Why does she have to suffer for a mistake that wasn’t hers?”

Stephanie’s heart ached for him.

Tim was quiet for a long moment before finally sighing and stepping forward. He reached out, gripping Damian’s shoulder firmly.

“For what it’s worth, you’re not wrong,” he said. “And I know it doesn’t fix anything, but you’re allowed to be upset.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, his breathing still heavy.

Stephanie gave him a small, reassuring smile. “For what it’s worth, I like your mom. She’s probably one of the best things to ever happen to me. And I don’t think anyone who actually matters would believe anything Stark has to say about her.”

Damian swallowed, looking down.

Tim gave his shoulder a small squeeze before stepping back. “Come on, Demon Spawn. Wanna help me with the car? I could use an extra set of hands.”

Damian hesitated before nodding stiffly. “Fine.”

Stephanie grinned. “And then after, we can make cookies. That always helps when I want to punch something.”

Damian let out a small huff—almost a laugh. Almost. But that was good enough.

The morning was unusually quiet. Too quiet.

The Wayne family was rarely loud—years of training and vigilant habits ensured that—but there was always something filling the air. Jason grumbling about being up too early, Tim sleepily stirring sugar into his already over-caffeinated coffee, Stephanie trying to prank Damian. Even Bruce, when he was home, had a way of filling a room just by existing.

But this morning, the silence was heavy.

You stood at the stove, your back to them, flipping pancakes with careful precision. The sleeves of Bruce’s oversized sweatshirt hung past your fingertips, and your hair was hastily tied back, as if you hadn’t had the energy to do more than shove it away. The boys could see it—the pinkness in your eyes, the exhaustion in your movements.

Jason’s grip tightened around his fork as he shot a glance at Damian. The younger boy was unusually still, his hands resting on the table rather than reaching for his utensils. He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t speaking. Just watching.

Bruce, on the other hand, was attached to you. He hadn’t stopped touching you since he came downstairs. A hand on your waist, fingers ghosting over your wrist when you passed him a plate, pressing a slow kiss against your temple as he reached for his coffee. His voice was soft, murmuring something just for you, his eyes darker than usual with unspoken concern.

When you finally turned to the boys, your smile was small but genuine. “I’m staying home today,” you said gently. “Just wanted to see you all off and wish you a good day.”

Tim hummed around his coffee mug, pretending not to stare too hard.

Jason frowned, his stomach twisting. Like hell he was leaving you alone today. He was already cycling through excuses in his head, trying to find the perfect way to get himself out of school. Fake a fever? No, Alfred had thermometers everywhere. Stomach bug? No way they’d buy that with his appetite.

Damian, however, was watching him.

Jason didn’t say it out loud, but they all knew—Jason hated leaving when you were upset. His separation anxiety was quieter these days, but it still lingered, clawing at him whenever something felt off.

And Damian? Well, Damian wasn’t one to let things sit.

By the time breakfast was over and Jason was still fumbling for a plan, Damian had already made his decision. Jason was wicked smart.. But Damian is genius level theres nothing he cant plan out. 

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone when, hours later, a taxi pulled up outside of Stark Tower.

And out stepped Damian Wayne

Tony let out a low whistle, setting his drink down on the glass table beside him as Damian Wayne stepped into his office. “Confidence. I like it. Arrogance? Even better. You must be a real hit at school.”

Damian didn’t so much as blink. “I’m not here for pleasantries, Stark.”

Tony leaned back, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “Yeah, I figured. You look about five seconds away from either throwing a tantrum or throwing a punch. I gotta warn you, though—throwing punches usually doesn’t end well for people in this lounge.”

Damian ignored the jab. He stepped closer, placing both hands on the table between them and leaning in slightly. “I heard what youve said about my mother.” His voice was low, controlled—but there was a storm brewing underneath it.

 Tony had seen the kid before—at the gala, hovering near Wayne, sharp brown eyes taking in everything. There had been something familiar about him even then, something Tony had pushed to the back of his mind, locking it away behind sarcasm and ego.

But now? Now the kid was standing in front of him, fists trembling, voice steady but furious, and Tony couldn't ignore it anymore.

“You’re a coward.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, forcing himself to lean back in his chair, forcing himself to be unbothered. “Oh? Do tell.”

Damian’s eyes burned. “You abandoned us.”

Us.

There it was.

Tony felt his stomach drop, but his face didn’t change. He had spent a lifetime perfecting that. So instead of letting the words settle, instead of acknowledging what they meant, he scoffed. “Look, kid—”

Damian took a step closer. “You didn’t know she kept it. Fine. But instead of facing that truth, you’d rather paint her as some kind of liar. As if she knew about you, as if she chose to interfere in your life. You insinuated she betrayed Bruce, that she was unfaithful. You tried to drag her through the mud just to protect your own ego.”

Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. His fingers itched for a drink, but he curled them into a fist instead. “Okay, first of all—”

“Don’t.”

The command was sharp, almost authoritative, and Tony shut his mouth before he could stop himself.

The kid’s hands were clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms, his breathing controlled but measured, like he was fighting to keep himself still. “You will listen to me,” Damian said, his voice deadly quiet. “You don’t get to talk your way out of this. You don’t get to charm your way out of being a coward not to my mother.”

Tony wanted to snap back, to deflect, to turn this into something he could handle.

But all he could hear was that single word, us, rattling in his skull.

Damian took a slow breath, grounding himself. “My mother raised me. She didn’t ask for anything from you. She never came looking for you. And now that you know the truth, she still hasn’t asked for anything. But you?” His lip curled slightly, his next words dripping with quiet disgust. “You’d rather slander her than face what you did. That isn’t just weak, Stark. It’s pathetic.”

For the first time in a long time, Tony didn’t have a comeback.

He just… stared. He swore his father was standing in front of him.

Because no matter how much he wanted to deny it, no matter how much he wanted to bury the thought, there was no ignoring the way the kid’s brown eyes burned with the same fire he had seen in the mirror.

And for one, stupid second, he wondered.

Tony blinked, the words catching him off guard. For a moment, his mask slipped, but he quickly covered it with a dry laugh. “Oh, I get it now. You’re one of those kids with a chip on their shoulder, huh? Daddy issues? Sorry, not my department. Bruce Wayne’s the one with the orphan trauma kit, isn’t he?”

Damian’s expression didn’t waver. He simply took a step closer, his sharp green eyes cutting through Tony like a scalpel. “Bruce doesn’t know I’m here,” he said, voice steady, deliberate. “This isn’t about him. This is about you.”

Tony’s grip tightened around his glass, but he forced himself to keep his face neutral.

Damian tilted his head slightly, watching him. Calculating. “You had doubts,” he said, quieter now, almost like he was speaking to himself. “At the gala. I saw it in your face when you looked at me.”

Tony scoffed. “Kid, you’ve got a hell of an imagination.”

But Damian didn’t stop. “You saw it, didn’t you? The resemblance.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression locked down, kept the smirk in place, even as something uneasy settled in his gut.

“Whatever fantasy you’re spinning, it’s—”

“I did, too.” Damian cut him off effortlessly.” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply through his nose. His hands curled into fists. “I see it now. I see it in the way you deflect instead of confronting me because you realize that im just as intellegent as you, I do the same with my father. In the way you’d rather joke your way out of something than feel it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, congratulations, kid, you just described half of Manhattan.”

Damian didn’t laugh. “I don’t need anything from you.” His voice was cold, precise. “Not your name. Not your wealth. Not your approval. But you will stop.”

Tony leaned back, rubbing his temple, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to do?”

Damian straightened, adjusting his posture with the kind of poise Tony had only ever seen in people who had been raised to command a room.

“Be better.”

For a second—just a second—Tony felt something crack. But then the walls slammed back up, and he forced out another laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “Cute speech, really. You practicing for debate team? Because I gotta say, the dramatics are a little over the top.”

Damian stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head, a quiet sort of disappointment in his gaze.

“I expected as much,” he murmured, more to himself than Tony. “I hope you can grow up.. For your daughter.” Damian nodded to a picture on the wall as Tony froze.

As the elevator doors slid open, the hairs on the back of Tony's neck stood up. There, standing in the doorway, was Bruce Wayne. His gaze immediately locked onto his son, and Tony could practically feel the weight of the moment shift in the air.

Damian stiffened for a moment but didn’t say anything. Bruce’s eyes softened when they met his son’s, but there was a sharpness there—an edge that made Tony pause. Bruce stepped forward, and without a word, he knelt down in front of Damian, his movements controlled, as always.

“I understand why you did this, Damian,” Bruce said quietly, his voice low and steady. “But I’m disappointed you disregarded your safety so easily.”

Damian said nothing, his jaw tight, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes was enough. Bruce reached out, pulling him into a hug. A firm, strong embrace. There was no hesitation, no anger—just a quiet understanding between father and son.

Tony stood frozen, unable to look away from the scene. The sight of Bruce holding his son in such a rare, intimate moment hit him harder than expected. He hadn't seen that kind of tenderness in a father before, and it struck him with a wave of realization.

For a moment, it was like he wasn’t even there.

“I want you to wait in the car,” Bruce said softly, pulling back just enough to meet his son’s gaze. Damian didn’t protest, simply nodding, his expression unreadable as he turned toward the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Bruce’s expression shifted, his face morphing into something darker—fury burning in his eyes. The calm, composed facade he'd worn for so long, especially in front of Tony, crumbled in an instant. The tension in the room thickened, and Tony could practically feel the weight of it settle over him like a storm cloud.

Without a word, Bruce pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he sent a text. His jaw clenched, his gaze flickering to Tony only briefly before he started walking toward him. Every step was deliberate, every movement a reminder of the man he was—calculated, precise, and more dangerous than anyone realized.

Tony straightened slightly in his chair, trying to project an air of confidence, but it was clear the mere presence of Bruce in full boss-mode’ rattled him. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that look—the one that could tear apart the bravado of even the most powerful people. He usually is on the receiving end of the god I hate that Im breathing the same air as you, you annoying fuck look.  And yet, as much as he wanted to push back, he could feel the knot tightening in his chest.

Bruce stopped just a few feet away, his posture rigid, eyes locked onto Tony’s. There was nothing friendly in his gaze.

Tony's frustration reached its peak, as he desperately tried to manage the chaos unfolding around him. The noise from his phone ringing, the continuous alerts flooding in, and the endless barrage of messages, all grew louder. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him as panic began to take root. He swiped through his devices, trying to make sense of what was happening, but nothing made sense. All of his stocks were plummeting, people were demanding answers, and the door to his office was being hammered with urgent knocks.

"What the fuck... WHAT THE FUCK?!" Tony cursed, his voice rising with each new blow to his empire. His fingers moved frantically over his phone and tablet, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but the more he tried, the worse it got. The magnitude of the crisis unfolding before him was suffocating, and he couldn’t understand how it all came crashing down in an instant.

And then, through the whirlwind of chaos, he looked up. His eyes locked onto Bruce, who was sitting across from him, a smug, almost amused expression on his face. Bruce wasn’t even fazed by the whirlwind surrounding them. He wasn’t scrambling or flustered. Instead, he just sat back in the chair, completely calm, and it drove Tony crazy.

Tony’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. "What the hell do you want, Bruce?" he spat, his voice strained from the pressure.

Bruce's lips curled into a knowing smile. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching Tony squirm as his world fell apart. And then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he raised his phone and held it up in front of Tony.

"Want to fix it?" Bruce asked, his voice smooth, confident.

Tony's eyes narrowed, disbelief mixing with rage. His gaze dropped to the phone in Bruce’s hand, and for the first time, he saw what was really happening. There, on the screen, was evidence that Bruce had orchestrated this entire mess. It was a simple text—one that Bruce had sent to the right people at the right time, carefully and strategically—and it was enough to collapse everything Tony had spent years building.

The realization hit Tony like a ton of bricks. He was in no position to fight this. 

The frantic phone calls, the screaming, the utter chaos—Bruce had planned this. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Tony opened his mouth to protest, to somehow deny what was happening, but Bruce’s smirk deepened, and the glint in his eyes told Tony all he needed to know.

"You want me to fix this, Tony? Then maybe it's time you start acting like you actually have something to protect," Bruce said quietly, each word deliberate. "But don’t worry... I’m sure we can work something out. After all, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans."

Tony clenched his fists, his teeth grinding as the situation dawned on him. The tables had turned in a way he never saw coming, and now he had to decide either to play by Bruce’s rules or watch his empire crumble further.

He exhaled sharply, hands running through his hair as he tried to steady himself. But deep down, he knew the real question wasn’t about fixing it—it was about whether he could ever get out from under Bruce’s thumb.

The tension in the room was thick, the power dynamic shifting irreparably. And Bruce? Bruce just waited, a calm presence amidst the storm, as if he already knew exactly how this would play out.

The air in the room thickened, a suffocating weight pressing down as Bruce finally leaned forward, planting his hands firmly on Tony’s sleek, high-tech desk. His shadow stretched across the space between them, swallowing Tony whole. The easy smirk Tony usually wore was gone now, replaced by something tight, something wary.

Bruce’s voice was low, almost gentle—but there was nothing soft about the words that followed.

“You’re arrogant. Careless. A man who never learned the difference between power and responsibility.” His eyes, cold as steel, locked onto Tony’s, pinning him to his chair like prey caught in a trap. “You think your money, your tech, your goddamn wit can keep you untouchable. That you can say whatever you want, do whatever you want, and walk away without consequence.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly, studying Tony as if he were something small. Insignificant. “You know what the real difference between us is, Stark?” he continued, his voice still disturbingly calm. “You play at being untouchable. I am.”

Tony swallowed, shifting in his seat, but Bruce didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“If I ever find out that you so much as whisper my wife’s name, if you so much as breathe about my son —” His voice dropped lower, turning into something darker, something lethal. His fingers curled slightly against the desk, the tension in his arms coiled like a predator waiting to strike.

“I will dismantle you. Piece by piece. You think this is bad?” He gestured vaguely at Tony’s still-vibrating phone, the frantic pounding outside the door. “This was me being polite.”

Bruce leaned in even further, his presence swallowing every inch of the room, and for the first time in a long time, Tony felt truly small.

“You won’t even see it coming,” Bruce murmured, his voice now barely above a whisper. “No headlines. No explosions. No grandstanding. Just one day, you’ll wake up and everything will be gone. Your company. Your empire. Your reputation. And you’ll know it was me. But you won’t be able to prove it.”

Bruce let the words settle, let the silence stretch between them until it became unbearable. Then, as if a switch had flipped, he smiled.

A perfect, dazzling, Wayne Enterprises CEO smile. The kind that graced magazine covers. The kind that fooled entire boardrooms into thinking he was nothing more than a polished businessman.

“So,” he said pleasantly, straightening his suit jacket as if he hadn’t just promised to rip Tony’s life apart at the seams. “Do we have an understanding?”

Tony exhaled sharply, barely aware he’d been holding his breath. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

Bruce watched him expectantly, waiting.

Tony forced himself to nod. Just once.

Bruce’s smile widened just a fraction, a glint of something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

“Good.”

And with that, Bruce turned, adjusting his cufflinks as he walked toward the elevator. He didn’t spare Tony another glance as he pressed the button, the doors sliding open in eerie silence.

But just before he stepped inside, Bruce hesitated. Just for a second. And then, without turning around, he delivered his final warning.

“Oh, and Stark?”

Tony barely managed to lift his gaze.

“Be a coward all you want. I got it.”

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing Bruce and his smirk away, leaving Tony sitting there—pulse pounding, body rigid, and for the first time in a long, long time... utterly speechless.

[qoldenskies]

Sorry if you already answered something related to this.

But how do you think CC! Donnie!to canon Donnie?

Asking for creating fanfiction of your fanfiction reasons.

like what they'd think of each other/how they'd interact? c!donnie would initially find cc!donnie extremely uncomfortable to be around (knowing that was once him, seeing how gutted and vulnerable he is) and then probably develop a pretty intense protectiveness of him. its kind of hard to be disgusted by the most fragile parts of yourself when they're reflected in another person who can hear what you say about them. maybe it'd teach him to be a little kinder to himself, actually (i do know in the crossover comic ive been doodling its going to really change the way he thinks about his brothers, and how much they actually care about him, at the very least)

and i think cc!donnie would be caught between crippling envy that he's angry at himself for feeling and a little bit of admiration. it resurfaces a lot of those "im never going to be what they want me to be (happy)" wounds that he's been carrying around, but really i think most of that pain would be in the way that he looks at how happy c!donnie's brothers seem (meaning that he is a burden, and that is unavoidable). i could actually see him following him around like a little puppy after a while lolol, especially if this is at a point in the timeline where things have diverged for so long that they're practically different people (like post-movie).

[squiddy-god]

Headcanons on Mr Scarletella with a touchy and flirty ahh soulmate? 😰(both sfw and nsfw) pretty please with a cherry on top (WOULD lick and bite that hemoglobin looking mf from top to bottom if I could get my hands on him 🤭)

I too would absolutely devour that man, his spooky ass is not safe. No requested gender for reader so this is gender neutral 

Cw : scarlettella, obsessive behavior, horny thoughts, i mean like really horny thoughts, sweet loving spooky fluff, he's a creep, he's a weirdo, smut and fluff, the first half is fluff the latter is smut, freaky nasty ghost sex. Gn reader nothing specified 

Oh 

Oh this is a little too perfect 

Now i don't know if you literally meant soulmates so i did not focus on it but encase you did mean truly soul mates he will never let that go lmao 

Especially if like we are talking about red stings of fate style soulmates

Spends so much time just looking at the little string that binds you to him PERMANENTLY 

Mr delulu absolutely loves that you are touchy because he wants you to touch him and keep touching him 

Now you mentioned soulmates specifically and oh boy never explain that concept to him because it will only make his delusions so much worse because you are his soulmate

He adores how you cling to him, how your hand fits in his and how you let him engulf your smaller form 

Lets you touch his hair, afterall why should that creepy crawly get all of your headpats 

Truly this is his ideal, letting him touch you and you touching him back is a dream come true

Literally

Like this creep dreams of you, dreams of having you with him always and feeling the softness of your hands on him

Your lips pressed against him

It fills him with a giddy kind of elation that has his grayish skin blushing a deep bloody red

 And the fact that you are flirty??? Hnnngngghhhh spare this man

At first he doesn't get it, he doesn't understand flirting but he understands that this is good attention

But once he catches on, and he catches on quickly, he is overjoyed that you flirt with him so ple do continue 

I think mr sarletella could be described as flirty in his own way, in his own creepy way 

“You like me…very much…desire me…us together very much long time”

You are driving this many crazy tho

He already takes all of your actions as being flirty towards him, so the fact that your personality leans into him delusions is not helping 

Nsfw 

Hmmmmmggghhhhhh 

Run lmao 

Oh wait…haha you can't 

You cant because this man will be turning your legs into jello one way or another, if it isnt because the way he fucks you into the nearest surface its because he is doing it every chance he gets 

Im personally a big fan of the umbrella jokes and the hc that he can feel touch through the umbrella so i'm going to use that

He can feel the slide of your hand against the umbrella, he can feel the way you touch and hold it and he is shuddering in the corner because of it

Your every touch is literally tourcher to him because he wants nothing more then to shove his hands up your shirt to feel you better

 Cums in his pants and i will die on this hill this man is so desperate if you flirt with him at all he is bricked and god forbid you like idk wisher in his ear and plant kisses along his face and jaw

Hes cooked 

He is not lasting if you show him affection

Dont worry tho because nasty freak ass ghost man in red doesn't know what the words take a break or refractory period are 

I said it in my other ghost sex post but i think he is like the #1 fan of bloody sex, he likes it when it's your blood or someone else's (i don't think he has blood) 

Yk what i think would break him? If you had blood on your hands and then like blew him a kiss or something to that effect 

FATALITY 

He thinks you look so pretty in red 

In his colors 

As his 

HIS

And opp hes hard again 

I think he would like to tugg on the red string of fate while hes pounding you into whatever surface he has you pressed against, that way you can feel the little tugg deep in your soul and know its him<3 

[pinkpalaceblogs]

How sbsf!chris and bsf!LS met blurb! (?)

Warning! Mentions of underage drinking (dont do this!), cursing, sharing a bed for the first time. Lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i made up a fake school name bc im to lazy to look one up.

November 23rd, 2020 (we are just gonna pretend covid wasn’t a thing)

“Aren’t you supposed to be the older mature one?” You say as you half ass carry your sister out of the long awaited over hyped party thrown by one of the lacrosse boys. “God you fucking reek of cheap vodka” you add letting out a sigh.

“Y/n…. Did… did i ever tell you how much i looooove you!” She exclaims throwing her arms around your shoulders. “Yes many times but your drunk and I need to sneak you in before mom and dad realize im gone too and we both end up grounded.” Turning your sister to her side as you drape one of her arms over your shoulders and wrap ur arm around her waist.

Your struggling to even walk with how drunk she is. She finally takes you both down. “Goddamn lys, your too fucking drunk. You cant even walk straight. You cant go home like this.” You let out a huff brushing your hair out your face. Sitting in the ground contemplating life at this point. Your stuck you dont know what to do.

“Yo lys?! You good?” You hear a guy call out. Looking up you see him. Christopher Sturniolo. Sure you know of him. You know he’s friends with your sister, and some of the girls in your school have hooked up with him, you’ve just never met him in person or spoke to him. That also maybe because you don’t even go to the same school as your sister. You wanted a better education and talked your parents into letting you go to a private school.

Chris leans down and helps her up. It takes your sister a minute but once she realizes its him she lets out an excited squeal wrapping her arms around his neck “CHRIS! Where have you been?! Ive been looking for you all night… oh my god were you with one of your slu- okay kid your talking to much” he cuts her off. He looks over at you raising an eyebrow.

“And who are you?” He asks looking you up and down. “Y/n… Lys’ sister.” You answer bluntly. He looks at you like you have 3 heads. “OH YEA! Chris i forgot to mention it. Like ever but this is my sister y/n! Shes in a private school so shes like never home but shes home for thanksgiving break! And i missed her so much. You little shit why did you leave me here?!” She reaches out to you now crying stumbling causing you both to fall again.

“Fuck!” You yell out as she lands on top of you heads clashing together. “Lys get off of me dude. Cmon get up. You cant go home like this. Fuck am I gonna have to sneak you into grans?” You push her off of you standing up again. This time Chris helping you stand her up straight. “She can stay at my place. She usually does when shes like this. My parents dont mind. They always help make up an excuse when it comes to your mom and dad. You can stay too if you’d like.” He says draping lys’ arm over his shoulder looking at you.

“I dont know… shes like messy drunk… i wouldnt want anything to happen.” You say looking up at him. “Hey shes been to my house worse. She broke my moms favorite vase once. Its okay. You guys can sleep in my bed ill crash with one of my brothers.” He says as he looks around finally he spots a boy that looks just like him? Twin maybe?

“Yo Matt we gotta go. Project get Lys inside before she runs off is a go. I’ll start the car get Nick.” Matt sighs walking over looking at Lys “you really need to lighten up on the alcohol kid.” He says brushing her hair out of her face. “Nick went home already. Something about having to finish his project for the yearbook.” Matt finally looks your way “who’s this? Chris your not bringing a random girl back to- Nah bro its Lys little sister apparently” Chris cuts Matt off.

“Maaaatttttt I missed youuuuuu” Lys says giving the boy a peck on the lips your eyes widen Lys looks at you “y/n… remember the guy that i told you about that ive known for a very long time and thought he was cute and sexy and hot and i wanted to date him. Its Matt. Hes my boyfriend now. Been for like a year now!” She beams over at you grinning ear to ear.

“Ohhhh so your Matt, she talks about you A LOT. Didnt know you were brothers with him.” You say pointing at Chris “let alone twins” you add. They both snicker “Twins? Nah were triplets kid. The other one just went home early.” Chris laughs. Triplets?! “Hate to burst yalls convo but i reallllyyy have to pee and i wanna sleep in matts bed y/n can sleep with Chris!”Lys exclaims.

“Uhm no its okay. Ill just sleep on the couch. Im gonna follow behind you guys in my car.” You say pointing back at your 2018 Chevy Malibu. “No our mom would light us on fire if we let you sleep on the couch. Did you drink? How much? Chris can drive you.” Matt speaks up. “Ive had like 3 seltzers. I should be fine.” You say pulling your keys out of your bag. Chris snatching them out of your hand. “Yea im not letting my best friends little sister drink and drive. C’mon plus its better than driving alone” he shoots you a small grin.

The car ride was silent. The faint sound of pyramids by Frank Ocean playing in the background. “So what private school do you go too?” Chris speaks up breaking the silence. “Oh uhm i go to St. Marias all girls school.” You say as you dig in your bag looking for your phone. “Ahhh thats pretty far. Like a 2 maybe 3 hour drive from here?” He says “wouldn’t you know” you mumble back.

“What did you say?” He says looking over at you “I mean for it to be as far as it is from Somerville you sure do got a rep there.” You say. This time taking your seatbelt off and turning the light on in the car searching for your phone. “So youve heard about me?” He asks. Still looking for your phone you lean into the back over the middle console not really paying attention on how chris gots a full view of your ass.

He takes in a sharp breath looking back towards the road. “I mean its really not that hard to hear about you when all the girls on campus FOUND IT!” You cut yourself off in excitement turning back around and putting your seatbelt back on. “But yea all the girls in campus talk about you.” He lets a little hum. “What do they say?” He asks.

“I mean im sure you know, that your you know good at stuff.” You say scrolling through your phone. “What kinda stuff.” Hes nudging the answer out of you. You know he is. Your not dumb. “Im not answering that. Im sure you have context clues. Unless you’re some brainless jock of a senior.” You say shaking your head looking towards him. He lets out a little laugh.

You guys finally make it home and see that Matt and Lys have already beat you guys there. Heading inside tiptoeing up the stairs you walk into Chris’ room. He grabs a pair of plaid pants and a white tee and hands them to you. “You can change in here ill step out.” He says. “Thanks” you mumble back. After getting dressed you tell him he can come back in.

He grabs a pillow and a blanket off the back of his gaming chair throwing them on the floor. You assumed its for you so you kneel down. “What are you doing?” He says “going to sleep?” You question. “Nah you can sleep on the bed. Ill sleep on the floor.” He says “oh okay” you say getting up and climbing into the bed.

After about 30 mins of hearing Chris huff and puff and stir around on the ground you finally sit up. “Chris. Just sleep in the bed. I dont mind. Its yours anyways” you say. “Are you sure. I dont wanna make you uncomfortable” he says. “Yea just stay on one side ill stay on the other.” You say as you lay back down and turn facing the wall. He crawls in behind you. “Goodnight y/n” he says. “Yea goodnight Chris” you say closing your eyes. Drifting to sleep.

BOW!

I feel like this was very long idk. But update wooooooo.

🏷️: @grace-sturnz , @matts-girlfriend , @courta13 , @r0set0y , @chriss-slutt

[gorgynei]

reading the sixth extinction for a class and ive started nihilistically waxing poetic in my reflection assignments:

When someone is faced with the idea of everything suddenly dying much, much more quickly than normal, they’re more likely to ignore it than embrace it with open arms. This is a very human reaction, of course, but it did also hold Darwin back from perfecting his theory. It really makes me think about what kinds of fears modern scholars have and how we may be held back by ours. I’m reminded of the grim reality that Kolbert (2014) tells of conservation attempts in chapter I—in our fear of losing everything, are we prioritizing the wrong things? Is our fear preventing us from seeing something obvious in retrospect? Is the fact that I am so afraid of the idea of it being “too late” to save a species evidence that it already is?

(for context, im talking about how charles darwin believed sudden mass-extinction events were impossible and extinction always happened at a fixed, extremely slow rate. obviously this is contradicted by the fact that many species went extinct in his lifetime)

like ohhh brother get a load of this guy. i know the TA who grades them is sick of me

its depressing to think about the stuff the book is getting at and im really trying to look at that critically and why its making me feel that way and what i can actually DO with that emotion. its just at the same time ive been having a lot of complex thoughts about wildlife management and prioritization and long term conservation. things that i will need to really have solid ideas about when it comes to my career in the field! the idea that eventually we might have to just give up on certain species because attempting to save them is a sisyphean battle and might end up just giving the remaining individuals a poor quality of life or wasting resources we need elsewhere is! really hard to stomach! but ive been chewing on it.

anyway sorry ace being a college student and yapping about what hes learning and thinking about moment

[p5-apotelesma]

Hello!

I wanted to share with you my thoughts about Persona 5 Royal because I love your rants!

So, Ryuji sees Ren as his bestie and hates Akechi for attempting to kill his friend and hurting the group in general. But then, Ryuji has to see how Ren is kinda becoming a rlly good friend with Akechi and he must be so confused on what to think!

Like he knows Akechi was an a**hole but now he is Ren's friend and kinda taking the place Ryuji had in Ren's life!

He must have felt a lot of conflicted emotions, and I want to see your thoughts about this

hi!!! very cool that you like my ramblings and thanks so much for saying so. and for sharing your thoughts with me!! i enjoy the chance to chit chat,, though i might struggle to gather all my thoughts together coherently

ryuji and goro have very VERY different relationships with ren. and each holds their own place in rens heart. and theyre both so precious to him. ren met ryuji and it was like standing in the warm sun after being cold and in the dark for so long and flowers bloomed in their chest. and meeting goro was a different kind of thrill. it was a game of wits. it was heart pounding and motivating. whatever souls are made of yours and mine are the same (for better and for worse)

ryujis relationship with akechi has a TON of potential. they have a lot in common.,, ryuji starts off seeing goro as some snobby bootlicker who would sell them to satan for a cornchip. and goro sees ryuji as a tactless fool with hot air between his ears. but while working with them. he, against his better judgement, and despite ryujis reservations as well. they start to see each other a bit different.

goro is not immune to Ryuji Charms and Ryuji is more emotionally intelligent than most give him credit for and he can stand in solidarity with goro as someone else who has suffered greatly at the hands of adults who should have helped him. and yeah, the whole thing is very conflicting.

i dont think ryuji would see goro as a threat to his place as rens best friend, mostly because it. isnt really clear if the gang knows just how close ren and akechi become until later. how much they regularly talk and hang out and understand each other. like,, the gang might think its a keep your friends close and your enemies closer sort of thing. that its all pleasantries. that this is all part of them playing goro as goro tries to play them. and be varying degrees of surprised at how much ren seems to grieve him after he disappears.

i think when goro joins the team theyre surprised by how familiar they act with each other. (what do you mean you gave him a Thieves Club bracelet and a cute endearment MONTHS AGO ren this is the enemy!!) of course ren and goro try to keep things low key. cause they both know whats coming. but. it becomes clearer. just how close ren has allowed himself to be to the resident backstabbing shitbird. and ryuji is like. hey ren whats the deal. what the hell. because hello?? look at what goro has done and what he plans to do. (hes worried for rens wellbeing moreso than anything else)

at that point, i can see him being very curious about their friendship. ren says theyre rivals but just how close are they? what do they do when they hang out and what do they talk about? he doesnt expect ren to spill a lot cause hes a private person. and then he asks. hey. but im still your best friend, right? and ren is like firefly my bruhloved no one could ever take the place of you. and ryujis like. alright cool. love you too, mia. be careful... (im here for you.)

and ryuji and the rest of the gang try, as their comfort dictates, to bring goro into the fold and be friendly with him. ryuji wants to know why ren likes him so much as much as goro wonders why ren likes ryuji so much. and the only way to find out is to try and hang out with the guy. ryuji is surprised at how athletic goro is and extends invitations to run or bike with him. they dont really get much chance to know each other better except as team mates on the battlefield. they sure arent what one another would consider friends. and yet by the end ryuji is the guy to tell a broken goro "man, youre more than special." and "youre your own person, you gotta know that" because thats the kind of guy ryuji is. and goro cant wrap his head around it (this is why hes rens second!!! and the heart of the pt!! dummy!!!) ryuji didnt want goro to die! he pounded on that door and called him an idiot!! they can be friends!! i see the vision!!! and this is my city!!! and like. post games i very much see goro and ryuji as like. coworkers at Loving Ren Inc. SDKHFSDF and ren has two hands. the thing is. ren is the kind of friend goro wished he always had, too. and goro takes a Long time to realize that ren is also his best friend. so its very much a chain here. goro: this is my idiot, ren. and this is their idiot, ryuji. (<< pictured, goro getting sucked into the polycule, circa 2018)

also like. ryuji and ren have their own friendly challenges with each other a lot. if anything i think goro is far more likely to get all huffy and be like thats MY rival THANK YOU VERY MUCH!! YOULL NEVER CHALLENGE HIM LIKE I DO. but this fact also acts as a gateway to goro becoming closer to ryuji. like. when they bring goro into their own friendly challenges as a third. it. makes goro feel included. and they bond more. goro finds another rival in ryuji in a completely different way from ren. and theyre both so aggro for rens love and attention. like jealous puppies. and ren has to kiss them to calm them down LMAO

i can go on about them but its shippy this is really long orz

[lacucarachapisser]

give me your honesty colin zabel x f!reader

warnings : smut, oral sex fem! receiving, make up sex, fingering, fluff slash angst, cringe lol, edging i guess, pwp? reader have pubes leads to insecurity, overstimulation, um yeah pretty much thats all. 1.3k wc.

a/n : im trying to get back into writing and ngl this is actually um for me since yknow, somebody has to keep writing for him. i decided to write for part two of this fics, you can read the first chap, but this could stand alone so you dont have to read the first, suit yourself. every like, comment and reblog are very appreciate, i hope you all enjoy this. and apologies if its suck. sorry.

colin holds your body tight, his fingertips pressing onto your back, afraid that his grip might slip if he loosens it even scarcely a little. your fearful thoughts, about his feelings possibly changing, his silence, and the thousand excuses he’d given are nothing compared to his fear of losing you. not again. he doesn’t want to be left again.

“i should be the one who say sorry. i was so stupid.”

you gently stroke his back with your hand, drawing gentle circles against his broad back before slowly pulling away from his embraces, however still in the same position, sitting side by side on the couch.

“you know i love you,” his voice sounds like a whimper, sad and desperate. do you know he loves you? for a split second, your mind assure you that he does, but the rest is filled with doubt about whether his heart is still truly yours.

“i got so caught up,” he crouched closely beside you, clearly unbothered about the fact that you just draw back from his body. “it’s been a really terrible time at work, i’m exhausted and became such a complete ass when you’re certainly trying to be just there for me, i’m so ungrateful. never thought about making you feel left out. i never meant to. i’m really sorry.”

you let him continue his monologue, listening and nodding all along. colin gently moves a strand of hair away from your face, slips it behind your ear. his gaze fixed on you, as if waiting for you to say something. “baby, look at me,” he says.

his brown eyes are flickering. even the lines at the corners of his eyes make him seems even more woeful. “i’ll take a day off, and we can do anything you want, together. what do you think?” you didn’t respond but it put a small smile on your face, and he returns it.

“maybe we can go to the new coffee shop with all the puppies you mentioned earlier, hm?”

no. it doesn’t feel exciting anymore.

“anything you want,” his grip on your waist becomes a little firm, lips lightly starts traveling your face, planting soft kisses on your cheeks and the tip of your nose. you remain silent. colin’s apologies have always been like this. his sorry was just like a routine, continuously repeating. there’s a long pause after those kisses drift across your face. you stay still, fidgeting with the thread in the edge of your shirt.

“let me make you feel better, yes?” he asks, slow and soft as possible. you haven’t even respond at that yet he makes another assertion “come on let me make it up to you” his eyes hungrily scanning your body and face, as if he tries to expose you. “baby, say something.” he sighed and took your face in his hands and turned it towards him.

hearing him saying how he wanted you for making a voice makes you frustrated. now that he talk. where was him all along?

“what do you want me to say?” your silky voice came out like a whisper.

“say you want me,”

he shoots you with his big brown eyes, serious but gentle. his hands start grabbing your hip making their way up slowly to your waist.

“…i want you,”

the smile emerges like a blooming flower, his eyes shone like someone actually got their first jackpot. colin pushes you slowly on the couch to make you more relax. his eyes never leave yours as he gets down and sit on the floor so now that his body perfectly wrapped in between your spread thighs.

“wait, here?” a short hesitation vibrates through your voice.

the unwillingness of waiting sparks through his expression. he nods and quickly unbuttoning your pants, working hard to pull it off. at that moment, the only thing that troubled your mind was, are you clean? like down there? and suddenly never in your entire life you have wanted to take a bath so bad.

in a blink, you have no idea where’s those fabric that supposed to cover up your private. he shamelessly leans his right cheek to your bush. it somewhat abashed you to witness him this way, clinging onto your thin curls and delicately spreading butterfly kisses across of it.

using his skillful jaw, he begins to get your thick lips apart to another. passionately making out with your fold in a very slow motion. he relentlessly hold your labia in his mouth, slightly biting and creating the most obscene sounds you have ever heard. there’s nothing you can do besides squirming and moaning, listen to the slurping sounds he made with your aching cunt.

he grasps your both thighs to prevent you from moving, face pressed to your abused pussy. he starts to add his talented tongue to play around, kitten-licking your clit causing you to jolt in surprise with intense pleasure. the smooth and sweet chuckle which leaving colin’s lips sending a sweet buzz inside, body jerking while gripping his shoulders hard.

“baby, stay still..” he speaks softly, lips still connected to your pussy which criminally doesn’t help to make you stay still at all.

“relax, enjoy it,” he continues to drown his face.

“c-colin…” body arching even more as you writhe, and that didn’t make him stop. he breaths a moan while vibrating his tongue inside you, and it feels like your head is consumed by a huge clouded cyclone.

his eyes flickering back and forth from your core up to your face, watching your reaction when he brutally gobble it up, sucking you as if a baby is suckling at their mama’s.

he starts pushing his two fingers inside you, pumping you slowly. the ecstasy sensation makes your toes curl once more, legs instinctively close, worry you might crush his head between your thighs.

“mm’ taste so good..” he mostly sounds so sweet and cute when talking, but this activity surely make him a bit different. he enjoys every respond you have made. your eyes light up and roll back uncontrollably, imagining those fingers as a violent flesh entering you with a sharp blow, touching your sweet spot over and over. thus makes you grab his hair hard and scream even harder.

“ah colin.. i’m close..”

he quicken the pace and the orgasm feels so much better when he does that. even after the long orgasm, colin still kissing you there. tasting every drop of your honeyed hot syrup that can cause him high, he definitely doesn’t wanna waste it.

“too much.. too much..” you choked and its like an electric shock escalates in every part of your body, hitting hard on your sternum. he smiles and slowly pulls away.

“i’m taking such a good care of my little girl,” he whispers, more like talking to himself rather than to you. the admiration sculptured on his face, another art that he proudly created. “you’re doing amazing, sweetheart,”

it almost makes you work up again listen to his mesmerizing voice, lips so close to your tired pussy, deliberately blowing the hot breath. he did that effortlessly, he always managed to get you work up so easily. the soreness ate your limbs and muscles you can’t move your body properly. the only thing you can do is just draw up a sluggish lazy smile.

“you okay? how was it?” still with a soft smile, a gazing wide brown eyes concerned towards you.

“hm..’mazing like always,” you both let out a little chuckle and he looks exceedingly satisfied.

“let me take you to bed, okay?” you nod and with a last strength you had, you open your arms to welcome him. he places your hands around his neck as he slips his big arms beneath your body, grab and scoop you up in one swing whilst he gets up. he affectionately kisses you on your temple before walking to your shared bed.

“good. i need to get you more comfortable,” you come up with nothing as you think about what’s gonna happen next, whether he’ll let you rest or he’ll take his turn, either way you’d end up take it gladly.

•

•

•

another notes: yes i do remember someone asked me to do pt 2, literally only one person and of course why not. this is for you jazzy @lockedxroses not sure if you remember hehe but yeah this also for all colin’s wives out there. love yall sm<3

[starberriemilk]

ok. ok. i hope you understand how much sinclair being transgender fits in with his character. you probably do better than me, but i want to rant about how good of an idea it is.

like, first. his symbol. a cracked egg. for a long time, eggs have been used to symbolize those strugling with gender disphoria without any way to identify it as something outside the norm. (child sinclair probably struggled with that a lot.)

his entire motif is "between two worlds" from his splashscreen, to his base EGO art, to even kromer's boss theme literally being called "between two worlds"

of course it's referring to his transitory state between coward and hero, but this major theme of change passes through the entirety of sinclair's life. i would not be surprised if he actually is canonically transgender.

like... everything about him seems to SCREAM transgender.

if you have more, please rant it to me as well!

YES I fully understand it and IM SO HAPPY THERE'S ANOTHER PERSON WHO GETS IT TOO! YES! I AGREE WITH YOU SO MUCH! I really want to make a BIG BIG post that'd be transgender analysis of Sinclair, and the only reason why I'm not doing it is because I'm 1. nervous that people would be upset I didn't mention a possibility of him being transfem (sorry I don't like that hc/interpretation :( it makes me kinda uncomfy since I see him 100% as a trans man!) 2. HOW DO I WORDS (im so bad at wording stuff and putting thoughts into text)

But either way I AGREE SO MUCH WITH YOU! I like to think that the reason why his symbol is a cracked egg specifically is because he is starting to figure himself out and presents as masculine because he realized he's comfortable with it much more, so its a start! AND OF COURSE YES YES I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT HOW BETWEEN TWO WORLDS CAN REFER TO HIM BEING TRANS TOO... But then I look back at the book and I realize how much sense it makes. The whole point of between two worlds in the book is that nothing truly is black and white and that includes Demian's gender identity (it's said so many times how he resembles both a man and a woman and clearly. transgender too), and I like to think Sinclair finds himself in that "between two worlds" state of gender identity too, seeing that he's different, between the world of cis women and cis men - transgender. If that makes any sense!

I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS FOR DAYS I SWEAR! Because you're right, everything about him screams transgender and it makes me incredibly happy. I genuinely think that Sinclair is transcoded, with how much feminity he shows in his character. And I know people will say "but feminine cis men exist" but I don't care because one way to show a character is transgender, is to make them have traits of their opposite gender... And obviously PM can't make it more obvious with queerness because we all know what Korea is like, but this? What we already have? It means a lot to me

Since I want to make a post about this one day, I want to say something from myself too:

Sinclair is the only male sinner who has a soft, feminine face, one that is usually drawn on women in PM games. Even other more feminine/twinkish characters like Yi Sang and Hong Lu have more sharp features, but Sinclair's are completely soft. And I think this includes his body too, like you can't really see it in his LCB sprite because he wears an oversized coat but in other identities he clearly has small shoulders and more of a.. feminine figure, I think, which again to me feels like he's a trans man that binds to hide his chest (if anyone asks about Boatworks- he had top surgery and his scars faded, and there's probably tech in the City that lets you have get rid of your boobs without any scars left)

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas

[choccy-milky]

⭐ HL x animal crossing ⭐

something for fun bc why not......i have free will their personality types?? maybe?? : seb = smug clora = peppy poppy = normal/sweet imelda = snooty ominis = lazy (or cranky tbh) leander = jock natty = sisterly