#my lower upbringings

[artcalledcinema]

When I When I am Czar of American words To be paid too, do During these crisis I chose my words carefully Say the mostest I I can write The Smallest And Mean The Mostest It’s an Antietam, battlefield On the land here on U S of A From here around a Globe It’s great big wide World I I I Think strategically Thee Colonel of American words II Began humble Lower steps of American words I Ran through experience When I Am labeled (smart code) I I can write The Smallest And Mean The Mostest Outsmarted I’m just WordsbyMM||MMysbsdrow A Future Title Civilian In Demo-Blue4Democracy Office of SMMS of American words Small & missed Paladian of American words I I can write The Smallest And Mean The Mostest How bout? Office of Poetic’s & Words of America Under thee title a small list of 18 personnel When I Get my demands Who know’s At @ the theater 3:00pm/1500 Be in line Grab your seat When I

[faustodisco]

Actually if we want to talk about the lilienne/joyce ship I would like to bring up that it plays into the bourgeois woman’s fantasy of class dynamics in a relationship (à la lady chatterley), as well as the upper/middle class idea that their identity as women supersedes said class dynamics (and therefore they believe themselves to be in no position to oppress women of the working class) in a way that lends itself to reactionary movements like TERF ideology. As someone who lives in the uk and has been heavily affected by said ideology, joyce actually put me on high alert just by her voice and appearance.

I think it’s a mistake not to acknowledge that joyce is heavily thatcherite coded (the hair, the posh accent etc) especially when compared to lilienne who plays into the working class british woman archetype: she sounds welsh (considered a ‘lower’ accent), has young children, is a widower etc. It is fairly common to see the ‘confident mum who has to single-handedly support her young family’ in soap operas and other media, and she definitely plays into that stereotype.

Anyway, the ship is on the surface level a fun one, but let’s not overlook the framing as a one-sided and rather sinister set-up.

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[5-htagonist]

the boondocks is so good. i dont know what black american archetypal character is missing from that show other than ahhh favorable portrayals of black queerness but 2005 (presumably) cishet man creation so you know how that goes.

[sadesluvr]

TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing. 

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother. 

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.  

You were simply no different. 

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.  

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart. 

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.” 

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”  

“You’re a girl.” 

“Sexist, much.” 

He chuckled. 

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.” 

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest. 

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.  

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks. 

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you.  “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.” 

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.  

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.  

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.” 

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch. 

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene. 

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.  

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips.  “You and I are more alike than you think.” 

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core. 

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.” 

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.” 

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look. 

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation.  “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.” 

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit. 

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.” 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more. 

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.” 

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle. 

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.” 

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly. 

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.” 

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.” 

Kraven furrowed his brows. 

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?” 

“He was a bad man.” 

“He was my brother.” 

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys. 

Then why did he turn you on so much? 

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.” 

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words. 

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.” 

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit. 

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge. 

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.  

“Kra—“ 

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.” 

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air. 

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet. 

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you. 

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh. 

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.  

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...” 

“Say it again.” 

Words evaded you. 

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you. 

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. 

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.  

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.  

There was no going back. Nine months began now. 

Would it really be all that bad? 

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary. 

FIN. 

[isagispuzzle]

it's two am, and you call reo to pick you up because you're tipsy and none of your friends have a ride home. although reo always has a driver available, he picks up the car keys himself and drives to the bar you were at.

your friends thank reo, giggle about his nice car, and coo about how lucky you are. in response, you slur, "right? reo is the best. i'm the luckiest person on earth to have him as my best friend!", and fall asleep once it's just the two of you left in the car.

reo turns up the heater and lowers the intensity of the massager built into the passenger seat, just how he knows you like it. the rest of the car ride is silent, and reo starts to think.

he thinks about how you always grab onto his hand in crowded areas, how you're never afraid of asking him for help, how you never shy away from comforting and accepting him even when he tells you about his mistakes. he thinks about how your judgement of him has never once been clouded by his wealth and status, how you're always willing to call him out on his bratty ways and tease him for his sheltered upbringing, how you never fail to challenge him and push him out of his comfort zone. he thinks about how your friends trust him just as much as you do, how even nagi is willing to get out of bed to help you when reo's unable to, how his parents stopped setting him up on blind dates after seeing the way he smiles around you.

he thinks about you, and all the memories you've shared, and of the future together that you occasionally discuss. he thinks about how well your hand fits into his, how well you fit into his life. he thinks about how everything has always been given to him on a diamond platter, but despite his ability to get everything he wants, you still sit in his passenger seat, less than an arm's length away and out of reach.

"best friend, huh," reo mumbles, and perhaps he truly is a spoilt brat, because he doubts he can stay content with what he has for any longer.

[oblique-lane]

Spy tf2 and his identity

Character analysis (or at least my vision on him, if you believe my reasoning)

What do we know about Spy? He's a disguise mastermind. He can pretend to be anyone in order to infiltrate into the scene to do his job - quite literally, stab people on the back. But when he's not in the battle, what is he to his teammates? A suave Frenchman, a gentleman with taste, somewhat a leader.

At least, that's the persona he prefers to show. But is he really..?

What if I tell you that this person never drops his disguise?

For a man who always wears a mask and who's identity being secret is a sacred part of his role in this job, isn't this persona too much to show if it is real? Frenchman, rich, ladykiller... Wouldn't it be too easy to decipher his identity with so much clues provided? Wouldn't it be dangerous?

While Miss Pauling and the Administrator definitely know Spy's real identity, hiding it is a major thing for whatever reason. One could assume it might be because of Scout (obvious guess) but I doubt he's a sole reason. Spy very much enjoys being the Spy all by himself. Do what's the deal?

Let's start from the beginning.

Why did Spy join Mann Co. in the first place?

Let's take this assumption as a fact: people come here out of desperation. They are professionals in their field, yet in their past/casual life there is a pattern of them having difficulties that push them into joining this service. I don't see why Spy would be an exception.

The reason for joining is usually money. Some people question why Spy, a wealthy man from higher society, would join Mann Co. if he has it all already.

Well, probably because he really does not.

Have you ever met an aristocrat? Wealthy people don't get so protective about their expensive suits, they can afford cleaning or a new one. Regardless, rich people don't usually get stingy about material goods, especially if they're mass produced.

At least, not those who were born into wealth.

Spy's defensiveness about his "wealthy stuff", his pomp-ness, disgust and arrogance towards "plebs" gives off a man who knows what it means to live in poverty and who doesn't want to be associated with it ever again.

(Not even talking about his own filthy habits such as not washing his mask and pissing on walls? Jesus Christ)

Dare I even guess that he might be not French at all? His French is so broken. (Although, so is Medic's German, but at least he uses his language much more frequently and in more complex sentences, while Spy only uses French to say some basic expressions, occasionally confusing them with other languages). Definitely not a native.

If anything, he's not giving "rich man" at all, he's giving con man. And that fits my picture perfectly.

So, poor upbringing. How old is Spy? If he's Scout's father (and he was young when he was conceived), I'd say he's no less than 20 years older than him. I'd give him a few more years actually. So, approximately Spy is around 50 at the events of the game (1968-1972). Let's assume he was born somewhere in the 1910s.

Even if he's not French, I still agree that he's probably European. Hmm, what was happening in Europe at the time Spy was a kid?

Oh yeah. The Great Depression.

See my picture: imagine, a child from a lower class family during the Great Depression, his parents were most likely to not take good care about him (both because of the economical situation AND as an echo to Spy's struggles with his own fatherhood). He has to run away from home early and start to make money. Any way possible.

Unavoidably, it leads to crime.

Petty theft, blackmail, scams. Changing identities. Selling low quality products and services. Changing identities again. When older, seducing rich women to stay at their homes overnight, be fed and supported. Running away from the police. Walking into a trap of the mafia, and then joining them as their goon.

In this nightmare of a life he just had to keep pretending to be someone else, someone better and stronger, in order to his ego to not completely shutter. He had to imagine he was an invincible mastermind trickster of some sort, not just a poor boo-hoo victim of poverty who has never knew normal life and care.

And if you pretend for long enough, you become your role eventually... Right?

His true self was long lost forgotten under many layers of new identities. Worse, his true self was never known. And he didn't want it to be known in its ugly and disgusting vulnerability. Narcissism became his lifeline.

It's so much better to be Spy. To be rich and elegant and respected. His ego rebuilt.

[nerdynikki94]

Man, I'm still bothered by DTAMHD last night. Afterwards, I had to watch MFHP (I watched the dance 3 times) just to remind myself that once upon a time, Sunny actually took serious risks for character growth. Like, i just sat there, crying with my wine, saying "Remember when they fucking did that".

I hoped it would make me feel better about the prospect of Dennis' possible growth in the far off future, but honestly, the more I ruminate on it, the less invested I feel. Dennis isn't going to get that moment. I think RCG have related Dennis too much to their shitty fans (you know which ones I'm talking about), that they've decided he gets no emotional relief. (Which is so fucking counterproductive and harmful, because we are fucking constrained by a patriarchy that is getting worse and more controlling, filled with men who Dennis embodies, and it's just going to get even worse until those assholes get therapy.) Point being, giving up on Dennis' character growth will mean more harm than good for Sunny.

I literally woke up in a bad mood thinking about watching the ep last night. I even took today off (because it's my bday) to re-watch and analyze. But I just can't get myself to. I've rewatched every single episode of S16, at least 3 times each (even TGGB-which was painful), but I'm too letdown to watch DTAMHD a second time.

Maybe I'm coming across as a bit dramatic, but DTAMHD just confirmed my biggest fear that Dennis will never get that same chance to grow. His character is who he is, and he won't ever be held accountable for his actions, and he'll never acknowledge the fucked up trauma that he's gone through.

Great! Thanks, I hate it. Worst birthday present ever.

[princessbellecerise]

The Sowing of Seeds

Summary ✩ Ulf the White was an imbecile in Jacaerys’ eyes. A drunk and an unworthy dragon rider. However, the Prince finds that his sweet daughter might not be so bad…

Warnings ✩ Smut, mean!Jace, Jace being an ass, classism, self doubt, loss of virginity, innocent!reader, creampie, oral sex, unequal power dynamics (reader is smallfolk and Jace is a Prince), slight mentions of blood

Despite your father’s sloth and drunkenness, you were a sweet little thing.

Jace could not help but to notice you. He tried not to, gods he really did, but with your innocent smile and kind laughter it was hard not to notice the girl who was the complete opposite of your dragon riding father.

You see, when Ulf the White answered the call to Dragonstone, he hadn’t been alone. You his daughter had come with him and it was only natural since you’d been taking care of your father all your life.

You weren’t sure who your mother was exactly, but Ulf always told you that she had long silver hair, purple eyes, and—depending on how many drinks he had that night—skin as pale as the moon or as dark as rich chocolates.

Whichever it was, your father was known for his embellishments, and often times his lack of manners. It wasn’t as if you’d had the most fancy of upbringings in Fleabottom, but you still liked to think that you had some class.

Your father, of course, had no care for such things. As long as he had a drink in hand and a listening ear, he could make himself comfortable anywhere. And unfortunately, right now he had both of those things.

You shook your head disapprovingly and frowned as you saw him seated at the war table, feet propped up and blabbering to Hugh about some tale or another.

You tried to warn him, you really did.

“This kind of behavior is not acceptable here,” You had hissed at him. Like always though, your father didn’t listen. He did as he pleased and now that he had a dragon, he felt entitled to do so.

So when the Prince Jacaerys marched in angrily and settled his fiery gaze onto your father, all you could do was wince and think,

I told you so.

“My Prince.”

You lowered your gaze and refused to make eye contact as he passed you. Suddenly, your worn down shoes became the most interesting thing in the room and you could feel Jacaerys’ stare on you briefly before it turned back to your father.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His accusing tone was not lost on you and your father quickly stood up, a grin on his face as he approached.

“Ah! There he is. Prince Jacaerys in the flesh!” He chuckled as he reached the Prince, not seeming to know or care that he was pissed.

“That’s my mothers’ seat you were sitting in,” Prince Jacaerys hissed, and the only thing he got from your father was a full-fledged laugh.

“Oh, it was just a bit of fun, my prince! I meant no harm,” Ulf waved him off. “You could use a bit of that round here, couldn’t you? All that handsome face is missing is a smile. Look at you—those lovely dark curls. I bet you get all the women with those looks eh?”

“Father!”

You sharply gasped as he carelessly ruffled the Prince’s hair, only stopping once Jace grabbed his arm and squeezed.

Your father winced, probably not expecting the Prince’s grip to be so tight. Briefly, you saw his fingers inch towards the sword that was seated on his hip, and the idea to cut in so that he wouldn’t cut off your father’s hand quickly reached you.

“Forgive him, my Prince. He is not familiar with the manners of court,” You quickly explained.

Jacaerys scoffed. “Or any manners at all, I’d say,” He said. His gaze once again traveled back to you, standing quietly as second hand embarrassment from your father washed over you.

You could tell that his actions irritated the prince more than he already was. He had a habit of looking down on you from the moment that you arrived, and now it seemed that his belief that none of you were good enough was validated.

“And you…” You flinched as Jacaerys’ amber gaze settled on you, breath quickening as a frown appeared on his face.

“How could you allow this? I thought you were better than this.”

The words stung more than anything you could’ve imagined. The implication that the Prince thought highly of you before this encounter made you both want to cry and strangle your father.

You opened your mouth to explain his behavior, to apologize for Ulf like you’d done so many times before. But suddenly,

“I’ll need a word with you to discuss the issue of this behavior,” The Prince suddenly said. You froze. “There is clearly a conversation needed to be held about how to behave yourselves at court.”

Your eyes widened. “But, my Prince—”

“Now.”

His harsh tone left no room for arguing. And neither did his glare. Quickly, you bowed your head in understanding and you tried not to cry as you locked eyes with your father.

Ulf stared at you as you followed the Prince, a hint of something that might have been guilt in his eyes. Whatever it was, you didn’t linger long enough to decipher it before you were gone, following Jacaerys and his guard until you reached another room.

You had to walk nearly halfway across the castle to get there. Briefly, you took in the sights of Dragonstone’s interior and figured that this must have been a place Dragonseeds were forbidden to enter.

Queen Rhaenyra had told you upon arrival that there were only three. The dragon pits without permission, the war council chambers, and the floor of their personal chambers.

Your eyes widened when you realized that this was latter.

“Leave us,” Jacaerys ordered that the two of you be left alone as soon as you walked into his room, making nerves practically explode in your belly.

You wondered if maybe this conversation was that serious to where he didn’t want anyone around to witness what he had to say. Again, your breath hitched as the thought of him bringing you here to privately tell you that you were being hanged or kicked off of Drgaonstone crossed your mind.

You prayed that neither would happen as fear struck your heart.

As the Prince Jacaerys turned to you with a disappointed gaze, you felt like you could hardly breathe. You tried so hard to avoid his gaze, but it was moot as Jacaerys placed a finger your chin and made you look at him.

“He cannot keep doing that,” Was the first thing the Prince said to you, and you were quick to agree as you nodded your head.

“I apologize, my prince. I really do! As I said, my father did not have the most civil of upbringings, and it is hard for him to adjust to all the new ways we must conduct ourselves.”

“And yet somehow, you’ve somehow grasped them just fine, despite being raised by him. Have you not?”Jacaerys mused.

You did not know what to say as you stared into his kind amber eyes. Compared to the look he had given your father, his gaze was considerably softer and you wondered why as you cleared your throat.

“I try…I try not behave as unruly as my upbringing, my prince,” You told him. Trying to ignore how your heart skipped a beat, noticing how handsome he was and how difficult it was to make eye contact with him because of it.

Jacaerys was easily the most attractive and the most important man you had ever met. With full lips, long lashes, and a dashing smile, he looked just like the prince’s you used to dream of rescuing you when you were a girl.

You had not been lying when you said that your childhood had been unruly. Often times, it consisted of taking care of your drunk father and working as soon as you were old enough.

You did little things here and there, enough to keep food on the table and afford shelter amongst others. But the streets of King’s Landing weren’t kind to any children, let alone little girls.

Often times, the only way to earn a decent living was either to leave or stay and sell your body.

No matter how hard times got, you vowed to yourself to never do the latter. No matter what, you just wanted to maintain your dignity and survive, which why you why you were so afraid of being kicked out.

Your father might’ve been too absorbed in his cups to remember what it was like, but you didn’t. You remembered every cold night, every threat of starvation and death.

Here on Dragonstone, those kinds of things didn’t exist. You could eat as much as you wanted, drink so much that your head didn’t throb from the lack of water.

You did everything right here to avoid going back to that place, but was your father really going to be the one to mess it up for you both?

“Hm.” Jacaerys let his eyes roam over you for a few seconds before responding. “You are different from them, you know. You are not like the other…mongrels my mother has invited into our home.”

You swallowed thickly as he took a few steps closer, trying to ignore the sting in your heart at the insult. “How so, Prince?” You managed to ask.

You were ever aware that the things you were thinking about could get you hanged. But gods, Prince Jacaerys was just so pretty that you almost wanted to be like your father and run your hands through his hair.

You wondered what it would feel like to touch a prince. To feel him on your fingertips, and the mere thought had you shivering as his eyes bore into you.

“Well for starters, none of them are as pretty as you,” The Prince smiled.

You reeled back at the compliment, not used to hearing any sort of praises from a man, let alone a Prince. His words had your cheeks growing hot, thankful he could not see the blush creeping on your skin as he continued.

“They are not smart like you are, nor courageous. When Vermithor released his rage you did not flee like the others, did you? You stood your ground to protect your father and it made the dragon deem you worthy. Now that is something I can admire. That is what makes you special.”

“M-My Prince. I—”

“Shh. Call me Jacaerys. Please?”

You shook lightly as he stepped forward, resting a hand on your face and stroking your cheek. You swore that you felt ready to pass out as the Prince rested his forehead against yours, his lips so close that you could feel his breath as his spoke.

“Tell me Dragonseed, and don’t lie. Have you thought of me the way that I’ve been thinking of you these past few weeks?”

“I…Jacaerys!” You let out a gasp, eyes wide as his lips brushed your ear. The sound was so sweet to Jace that he couldn’t help but to smile wider, liking the way that you shivered at his touch.

“I cannot get you from my mind, Y/N,” He confessed quietly. You tried to stop your heart from falling out of your chest as you stood there, stunned. “You plague me like a disease that will not go away. I’ve tired, but I’ve concluded that no remedy will rid me of this ache until I’ve tasted its cause. Until I’ve tasted you, sweetling.”

You stopped breathing momentarily as his pink lips brushed over your neck.

“M-My Prince, Jacaerys, we shouldn’t. I—”

“Do you not want to?” Jacaerys pulled away to stare at you quizzically, waiting for you to give any indication that you wanted him to stop.

While you didn’t, and while you couldn’t ignore the way your body lit on fire form his touch, you still couldn’t deny that a part of this wrong.

“I…You are a prince. I’m just a girl from Fleebottom. A bastard,” You told him weakly, reminding him of his position and your own. “I’m not…I’m not very worthy of you, my Prince. You said it so yourself.”

Quite ashamed, he remembered when you had accidentally walked in on a conversation with his mother and heard him call you that.

You had apologized to no ends for it, but even then Jace had felt guilty when he saw the hurt look on your face.

“I regret deeply what I have said, and I wish I never said it,” He confessed. “I admit, upon seeing strangers claim the birthright I’ve always been entitled to, I grew resentful. I did not think any of you were worthy enough but the dragons themselves have proven me wrong. You…” He shook his head as he smiled. “You are more than worthy of it Y/N, and I believe you are worthy of me. Do you accept this?”

It took only half a second for you to nod, and then giving into your desires, you allowed Jacaerys to kiss you again, feeling yourself getting lost as he guided you to his bed.

The sheets made of velvet and silk were the second softest thing that you had ever felt. The first was Jacaerys’ touch, feather light yet still intoxicating as he ran his hands down your body.

They roamed where no one else’s hands had roamed before, pinching and squeezing and clawing at the fabric that hid what he really wanted. All the while, his soft mouth moved against yours, urgency and desperation in his kiss.

You wondered how long he had desired this for. How long had the Prince laid in bed, thinking of having you like this while you simply had no clue. Had it been weeks? A month? The entire time you’d been here?

That thought alone had wetness pooling between your legs, the excitement of knowing a Prince desired you turning you on like no other.

Eagerly, you allowed Jacaerys to pull away in order to pull your dress down, the flimsy cotton easily giving away to his harsh pulling.

It wasn’t like you were a lady, so no corset or small clothes masked your body. Instead, your breasts sprang free the moment the fabric was pulled down, and Jace licked his lips hungrily as he dipped down.

“Oh!”

He started by taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and sucking like a babe desperate for milk. His soft lips wrapped around the bud until he was satisfied with the mark left on your skin, and the gasps that left your lips

Then, the prince carried on.

He kissed eagerly down your body, pulling and ripping at the fabric without a care in a world. Never mind that this was the only ‘nice’ dress you could afford, neither you or Jacaerys cared.

Your body was too busy reacting to the feel of his lips, jolting whenever he kissed a sensitive spot on your belly. The further down he got, the more it seemed like the pleasure and sensitivity increased.

Finally, the Prince managed to wiggle your dress completely off and you blushed as you were exposed.

Never before had you revealed yourself to a man, and Jacaerys’ reaction did not disappoint.

His amber eyes lit up as he spread your legs, using one hand to keep you from covering yourself. You were a bit shy about being on display in front of him, but Jacaerys shook his head every time you tried to curl away.

“Do not hide from your Prince, dragonseed,” He said firmly, running a finger over your most intimate parts. “That is an order.”

Fire licked at your body as the Prince smirked, liking the way you obediently nodded your head at him and moaned when he touched your cunt.

It was cute and painfully obvious at just how inexperienced you were. You whimpered nearly every time Jace’s finger teased you, gathering your wetness on his fingers and seeing how you reacted.

Every time you panted out his name, looking at him through your eyelashes, he swore he was going to make a mess in his pants.

The ache was nearly killing him, and he desired to feel some type of relief before he took you.

You looked at him, confused when the Prince pulled you up and made you get off the bed.

Naked and shy, you stood before him with your arms wrapped around your gorgeous body, unsure what to do until the Prince approached you and said,

“Get on your knees, bastard.”

You gasped at the foul name that had left his lips, not expecting him to be so…bold. His own status seemed to be forgotten in his mind, and his dark eyes peered down at you smugly as you did what he wished.

Shaking, you kneeled down in front of him and whimpered when Jace took ahold of you cheeks, squeezing them before lightly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When he got back up again, you could see him fumbling with the belt of his tunic, loosening it before stripping altogether.

The Prince stood before you, naked and aroused and you had never felt so unworthy of seeing such a beautiful sight. Your mouth drooled, your cunt throbbing at the idea of his pretty cock being inside of you.

“Open your mouth.”

Immediately, you did as he commanded though you weren’t sure why. You thought coupling was done a different way, but you were shocked when Prince Jacaerys rubbed the tip of his cock against your lips.

He teased you for a little bit, shoving the tip inside of your mouth before taking it out. He loved seeing the way you gasped lightly, obviously not used to this.

This foreign act had your heart hammering in your chest, no clue what to do as the Prince eased his cock in your mouth.

He went slow at first, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation but that didn’t mean he was all that nice. Once he felt the way your lips wrapped around him, so soft and so unsure, he couldn’t help but to thrust deeper, chuckling slightly as you mewled.

He grabbed your hair, and it took everything inside of you not to pull away as his cock slipped down your throat.

You gagged as his tip triggered your reflex. Almost instinctly, your hands came to grab his hips so you’d get better control, sniffling when his cock finally settled all the way in. You could taste his preseed combining with your own spit, making it easier to suck him off.

Though you were a novice at sucking cock—and he could tell—Jace still tried to guide you as best as he could. He used your hair as a way of telling you how you were doing. He squeezed to the point where you cried out if you did something wrong, and he stroked it lovingly if you did it right.

He loved seeing the way that you gagged, you cheeks puffed and wet with tears. In his mind, there was no better position for a bastard like yourself than on your knees, taking your Princes’ cock just the way he commanded.

It made Jace feel powerful to see you cry, obviously struggling but unwilling to disobey your beautiful Prince.

By the time he pulled out, your throat was raw and Jacaerys was on the brink of his peak. Surprisingly though, he held back, giving you moment to breathe before helping you up.

You had just barely caught your breath before the Prince’s lips were on yours again, and you melted into the kiss and tried to hold him tight.

The Prince allowed it, liking how desperate you were to feel him. Of course, it was your naïvety that lead you to act this way, the need to be held by the man who would be your first strong.

You were happy enough when Jace set you down on the bed again. This time, he wasn’t so mean to you as he laid down, grinning as he guided your hips towards him.

It was safe to say that you were confused all over again when he lined your cunt up to his mouth, not to mention, horrified.

“Jacaerys, I’ll…I’ll smuggle you,” You panicked as he grabbed your ass and guided you down, but the only response you got from the Prince was a chuckle.

It sent rippling vibrations against your cunt, making you gasp. You trembled as Jace’s tongue darted out to taste you, crying out as the Prince sucked on a spot you never even knew existed before.

The sheer amount ecstasy that filled your body couldn’t be described, only cherished as Jacaerys got to work.

He lapped at your cunt, making sure to pay attention to your pearl. He loved the way you squirmed as he did, out of breath and desperate as you rode his face.

Your previous worries about possibly suffocating him went away as the pleasure distracted you from caring. You grinded your cunt against the Prince’s sharp nose without a care in the world. Eagerly taking his mouth, and greedily chasing the sensation that was beginning to build in your belly.

It had your legs shaking and your frustrations at an all time high when Jacaerys suddenly pulled away.

He pushed you from his mouth and licked his lips, ignoring the way you whined and reached from him.

Gentle yet firmly, he wrapped an arm around you and flipped you in your back. Now, Jacaerys hovered over you with a hungry look in his amber eyes, smirking lightly as he saw the eager look on your face.

You must have known what was coming as he rubbed his aching tip along your folds, feeling that you were now well prepared enough for him to fuck you. It was with this thought that the Prince finally pushed in, keeping your hips steady and groaning as he sank in.

Instantly, you screwed your eyes shut as he pushed through your barriers. Jacaerys had no clue, no idea that a woman could have been this tight. You seemed to squeeze the very life out of him which threatened to made the Prince cum faster than he wanted to.

In order to savor it, he went slow and you were grateful for it. The pressure between your legs only seemed to grow the more that he pushed in, and finally Jacaerys was forced to acknowledge your maidenhood as you cried out.

He felt something break inside of you as you did, and when he looked down, he cursed at the redness that coated his cock.

“You’re a maiden?” He asked softly, looking more guilty than he ever had as a small yet subtle tear ran down your cheek.

You nodded, your cunt throbbing as you squeezed him desperately.

“Y-Yes,” You sniffled a slight pain spread through your body, wigging to alleviate some of the discomfort. “I’ve never even kissed a man before you, my Prince. I swear!”

Jacaerys moaned as he sunk further inside of you. Kissing both of your cheeks as if to soothe you, and allowing you to bury your sweet face into his neck as he held you. “Gods, how is this even possible? How can a mongrel like your father sire someone so perfect?”

You did not have an answer to that, too caught up in the feeling of being fucked for the first time to respond.

In the beginning, Jacaerys took it slow, letting you adjust to him whilst he peppered your neck with kisses and brushed any tears away. He let you decide when he moved, and once the sting in your lower regions faded away you gave him the okay to do so.

Slowly, he pulled out of you only to sink back in. You whimpered as Jacaerys filled you to the hilt, wrapping your legs around his back to keep him there and capturing his mouth.

As you kissed, you suddenly felt emotions overcome you like never before. Lust, passion, love—it was all too much. It made your head spin in the best ways possible, loving the way Jacaerys used your body, loving the way he fucked you.

It got better the more you began to relax, and eventually your cunt didn’t strain as much to take him. In fact, all of the wetness between your legs allowed Prince Jacaerys to slide in and out with ease, fucking you balls deep every time so that you could feel every thrust. Savor every vein and every inch of his delicious cock.

It had you moaning pathetically and tugging at his hair. Just like you predicted, it was soft underneath your fingertips; silky. The smell of his body and his gorgeous locks could be traced back to the oils he had used this morning, and his scent was just as intoxicating for you as yours was for him.

“Fuck. Tell your Prince how good his cock feels inside of you. Tell me,” Jacaerys demanded. You cried out as he pounded into you harder, feeling him repeatedly hit a spot inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

It sent jolts of pleasure through your belly, making you squirm and cry out underneath him.

“It feels…it feels amazing! Gods, Jacaerys!” His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, the sound of the bed creaking as he fucked you echoing through his room.

You held on for dear life, trying to chase that slow building, euphoric feeling in your belly. You weren’t sure what it was, but it had you seeing the stars the moment the tension snapped, wrapping you in a pleasure so hot it momentarily made your body go weak.

Soon enough, Jacaerys’ pace began to grow sloppy, and his hips stilled as he cursed. With the feeling of you cumming and squeezing around him, he couldn’t have lasted longer if he tried. Warm seed spilled inside of you as he also reached his high, muttering incoherent words as he fucked it into you.

You could feel it coating your walls, thick and heavy. It surprised you that he was so careless about finishing inside of you.

After all, he was admednet that all dragonseeds were nothing but bastards and mongrels. Unworthy of his sacred inheritance and bloodline, but now there was a possibility that he could have sired one of his own.

When he rolled off of you, you were afraid that he would kick you out and simply order a Maester to bring you tea. Never to speak of this again, never to hold you again.

Tears pricked your eyes at just the thought of being cast aside so easily, your heart aching. You sniffled as you watched him pull his trousers up, but to your surprise, he did not kick you out.

Still breathing heavily, the Prince poked his head out of the door and called for a maid to clean you up instead. When your dazed and slightly confused eyes met his, he merely smirked.

“I don’t intend to shun you, Y/N, only take reparations. You and your father have my dragons and now I have your maidenhead. I do believe it has been a fair exchange, ānogar hen issa ānogar. Don’t you agree?”

You were too distracted by his lips to respond, but even if you had, you would’ve agreed.

You had a dragon, and now you had the Prince. If that wasn’t enough to keep you satisfied and loyal, then the babe that grew belly certainly would.

Jacaerys thought about this as he pulled away. Quickly, his lips attached themselves to your cheeks, then your neck, and then playfully around your body. When you giggled at the ticklish sensation, pure joy filling your veins, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as well.

I hope you’re proud, mother. The seeds of loyalty have been sowed tonight indeed.

—

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

@callsigncrushx

@smithieandy

[mostly-imagines]

Damian was unwilling to even consider accepting your presence. He’d been sure that you were a passing source of entertainment for his older brother, who couldn’t possibly hold positive regard towards anyone other than himself.

Jason had brought you to the manor with him while he dropped in to discuss some things with the old man. You’d told him you’d be fine to hang out with Damian until he was done, to which he scoffed and wished you luck.

So you approach the couch tentatively and smile despite the lack of attention on you, “Hi Damian.”

He merely side eyes you and says nothing.

Having expected this from him, you continue, “What are you watching?”

“The Discovery channel.” He says shortly.

You frown, furrowing your eyebrows.

He glances at you, unamused. “What?”

“Why are you watching the Discovery channel?” you ask him.

“It’s educational.” He tells you, like it’s obvious.

You nod slowly, “Yes, but…what else do you watch?”

“The Discovery channel has many different series’,” he tells you with discernable disinterest.

You tilt your head at him, “Don’t you watch shows for kids?”

He glowers hearing that, “Why would I do that?”

“…Because you’re a kid.”

He shakes his head, basically waving you off. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”

You’re not really sure why Damian is the way he is just yet. You know he only came to live with Bruce relatively recently and before that lived with his mother somewhere far. Jason’s mentioned in passing that his upbringing was a bit unorthodox and his mother is a sore subject. You don’t know Bruce well but you can take a guess that his parenting priorities don’t necessarily lie with letting kids be kids.

You shake your head, “It’s not a waste of time. Not if you enjoy it.” You pause. “It’s okay for you to be a kid, Damian.”

He looks at you like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

You sit up more, turning to face him completely. “I can’t imagine pushing yourself so hard all the time is good for your brain. Or your body.”

That gets his attention. “…What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I mean a part of normal human development involves fostering happiness through recreation and leisure. Entertainment like that functions as a stress reliever which is necessary for you to operate at your highest capacity. It’s like recharging your body and it’s important to do, especially when you’re young and can burn out quickly.”

He frowns deeply, furrowing his eyebrows, “Oh.”

You nod, thinking. “I can’t imagine your diet is any different than your dads, then.”

His posture straightens, “I eat to make me stronger. That is good for my body.” He says it like it has to be.

Your brow furrows at that as you nod, “Yeah, it is, but do you like it?”

He grimaces, “What does that matter?”

You pull back a bit, blinking at him. “Do you eat snacks, Damian?”

“Snacks are for—” he cuts himself off. “No I do not.”

“What if we watched a movie and made popcorn or something?”

He considers this with an obvious great hesitance, looking you up and down like he’s expecting you to pull out a knife any second.

“You could be wrong,” he says eventually, quiet.

You nod for a moment. “But what if I’m not?”

He eyes the rug on the floor, chin still held up. “What…do you suggest?”

You pucker your lower lip and shake your head, grabbing the remote. “Anything you want,” You flip the screen to the children’s movies, scrolling through the options. “You might like The Rescuers. Or Robin Hood. It’s about someone who steals from the rich and gives the money to the poor.”

You hand him the remote and he slowly moves through the list. You watch him look over the selection, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“What about “Bambi”? It has small animals in the picture.” He points to the little icon on the left of the screen displaying the baby deer and friends.

Your movements stutter. “Oh, uh…I don’t think that’s the movie for you.”

He tilts his head at you, “Why not?”

You take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make popcorn, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You smile and nod encouragingly and stand before making your way to the kitchen.

Damian watches you go before thoughtlessly standing himself and trailing slowly after you. By the time he gets to the kitchen door frame you’ve already opened up a packet and are placing it into the microwave. You don’t stop at that, opening up the fridge to pour out a small glass of coke.

The popcorn is nearly done when Jason approaches from the hall, stopping next to Damian and peering into the doorway to see what’s so interesting.

He’s surprised to find that the thing Damian had been staring wide-eyed at was you, making snacks.

He looks again at his little brother, heeding how his gaze was somehow closer to fear than skepticism. But he’d seen that look before, when he’d first come to live at the manor it was the only expression he conveyed for at least two months. That look of shock that he was being treated so kindly, with such thought behind it. Jason hadn’t seen that look in a while, but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised that it was you who brought it back out.

For someone as trained as he is, it takes Damian an embarrassingly long time to register his brother's presence. He tries to play it off as though he’d always known, adjusting his posture to stand taller, chin up. He turns to face Jason, suddenly somber. “She is an adequate choice of a partner.”

Jason’s face contorts, looking him up and down, “…Thanks?”

[psychoticallytrans]

Many conversations about atheism don't consider the existence of the second generation atheist, let alone more. Atheism is almost universally framed as some kind of personal rejection of one's upbringing, culture, family, and/or society, to one degree or another. There is not much widespread awareness of the fact that some atheists were raised that way.

But second generation and more atheists already exist, and as open atheists grow as a demographic, for more and more of them the answer to "Why are you an atheist?" is not going to be a long, involved story of self discovery or a bitter rejection, a principled decision or a sharp retort, but simply "Well, that's how my family was." Does your concept of atheism account for their existence?

How does the concept of children being raised by atheist parents make you feel? If it makes you feel uncomfortable, or like the children are missing out on something, you may need to unpack that. What responsibilities do you feel that atheist parents have to their children's religious education, and do you apply those same standards to religious parents? If you find yourself with a double standard, ask yourself if the higher one or the lower one is more reasonable to apply broadly.

The big question here is this: do you consider atheism to be an idea that can be held independently, or a solely reactive concept?

[melzula]

My HC is that since Zuko is royalty, the heir, and also commanded his fleet on his hunt for the avatar, he’s used to taking charge. But the way I’m thinking of it is him being casually dominant with the y/n. Things like using a soft but firm voice to make sure they eat enough, that they’re warm, putting his hand on their thigh to keep it from shaking, etc. the gaang would start to notice how it takes one look from Zuko and y/n complies. Wrapping his hand around their hips to bring them down to sit in his lap, subtly tugging their skirt down when it rides up, stuff like that.

Could I please request some of your amazing writing for casual dominance with Zuko?

pairing: Zuko x reader

notes: okay so this was actually pretty challenging to write just bc i had to be careful about not making zuko come off as too controlling while also still fulfilling the details of the request. however i think it came out pretty good !

summary: Zuko shows his love for you the only way he knows how to

To those on the outside, your relationship with Zuko appeared to be… odd.

No one could quite determine whether he saw you as an equal or as someone who needed to be taken care of. Everyone knew you could handle your own; you’d been a skilled swordsman during the war and a master at hand-to-hand combat. No one doubted your ability to fend for yourself, but it seemed once you began dating the Fire Lord there was no longer any need for you to do so. Zuko took care of you, and being with him meant never having to lift a finger and never having to worry again. You were his prized jewel, and he took it upon himself to care for you in the only way he knew how.

Growing up, the Prince had never properly learned how to show affection or lovingly nurture a relationship. His parents weren’t the greatest example, and his father’s coldness left much to desire. However, his upbringing as a royal and his time commanding a fleet during his search for the Avatar allowed him to grow into a leader. In his younger years he’d been hotheaded and impulsive, but with time he had learned to be firm yet fair. He was a benevolent leader who only wished to do what was best for his people, and this same thought process extended to you.

You’d missed dinner one night and left him waiting in the throne room, too engrossed in your studies to realize how much time had passed or just how hungry you were. Your stomach growled incessantly and your head was beginning to ache, but you were adamant about finishing your book. Having recently been proposed to by the Fire Lord, you took it upon yourself to read up on the history of the Fire Nation and your expected duties as Fire Lady. You were overwhelmed, and eating dinner was the last thing on your mind.

“Y/n,” he had called, startling you out of your focused state as you rested your gaze upon his figure in the doorway. “We were supposed to have dinner together, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” you uttered bashfully, using your book to shield your embarrassed features. “I must have lost track of time. Let me just finish this last page and then I’ll-“

“Y/n,” he repeated with a pointed look, one that had you slowly lowering your text.

“Yes, Zuko,” you had finally relented. You couldn’t ignore your growling stomach any longer, and so you’d tossed your book aside and taken the arm he’d offered for you before allowing him to escort you to the dining room.

Zuko wasn’t strict, wasn’t cruel, just firm. It was his way of showing he cared for you, and you took no offense to how he so often liked to be the one in charge. Whether it be in his actions or in his tone of voice, he took the lead and you followed. This wasn’t to say that you didn’t have a mind or will of your own, but often times Zuko took it upon himself to step in whenever he felt you weren’t taking care of yourself the way he believed you should be.

His love could be conveyed through mundane actions such as wordlessly slipping your shawl over your shoulders without you having to ask to ensure you won’t be cold during a stroll in the palace gardens or resting a comforting hand on your thigh to stop the nervous bouncing of your leg during an important meeting. Anyone and everyone could see the influence he held over you, the dominant role he’d taken in your relationship, and you happily fell into place with him.

“Don’t you think it’s just a little weird?” Sokka had noted once to his sister after watching Zuko carefully wrap his fingers along your hips and delicately pull your figure into his lap as if he were handling a porcelain doll. You looked radiant in your silk robes and ceremonial makeup, a look picked out by Zuko to ease your anxieties over your lack of knowledge of traditional Fire Nation fashion, and as the Fire Lord’s fiancé you were the talk of the ball.

“Maybe it does seem like Zuko is usually the one in charge,” Katara had agreed thoughtfully, her gaze carefully resting upon your features to search for any sign of discontent or restlessness. Of course, she found none. “But I know y/n, and if she had a problem with it she would have stood up for herself and said something about it.”

The siblings watched as you conversed with various guests, your smile sincere as you spoke with the people you would soon help rule over as Fire Lady. Shifting in your seat as you crossed your legs, Zuko took note of the way the slit of your skirt had partially opened to reveal your bare leg. Wordlessly and without interrupting your conversation, the Fire Lord shifted the fabric so that your skin was kept from prying eyes. He didn’t care in the slightest if anyone saw, but he knew you would be embarrassed if guests began to question your way of dress, so he took it upon himself to fix the problem for you.

“I think it’s a love language thing,” Katara had explained after removing her attention from the scene and returning it to her brother. “He’s showing he cares through actions instead of words. Maybe it’s the only way he knows how to.”

“I guess you’re right,” Sokka relented, though his features still displayed a mild sense of disgust. “But that doesn’t make it any less oogier.”

Maybe no one on the outside ever truly would be able to comprehend the dynamics of your relationship with Zuko, but it wasn’t for them to understand. He took care of you and loved you in the only way he truly knew how to, and you appreciated him endlessly. With Zuko as your soon-to-be husband, you knew you’d always have someone looking after your best interests. All the same, Zuko knew he’d always have someone to love and accept him for who he was.

You were a perfect match.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu @heartfully10 @creationcitystreet-em

[vampirenocturno]

TITS OR ASS?

summary: which part of your body do the hp boys find most attractive?

includes: harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, neville longbottom, fred & george weasley. all depicted as 18+

diary entry: omg my first post! i hope you all like it ^^ i have another one of these planned with the marauders era boys, and then another with the girls. send an ask if you want to see someone specific!! also, my requests are open if you have thirsts, prompts, or ideas :3

part two (marauders). part three (gals).

HARRY POTTER

harry loves your legs. he loves to stare at them, touch them, massage them. his hands are constantly running up and down the expanse of your calves, pulling your legs across his on a sofa in the gryffindor common room. he loves to see you in short skirts, tight jeans, leggings, even sweatpants.

RON WEASLEY

boobs guy, definitely. he’s always got his head between them when you cuddle, more often than not his face is pressed into them to the point you aren’t sure he’s breathing. ron always makes his way back up, though, trailing kisses from your collarbone to your earlobe.

DRACO MALFOY

shoulders. maybe it was the strict malfoy upbringing, but nothing turns draco on more than seeing a slip of shoulder. you often tease him for getting worked up over something so simple and innocent, and he can do nothing but take your teasing and gulp as he watches your bra strap fall tantalizingly down your arm.

NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

tummy. neville would spend all day with his head pressed into the pudge of your lower stomach if he could. he’d trace kisses from your pantyline to your bellybutton without batting an eye. when he pulls you close to him, his hand automatically flies to your belly, pressing you against him with his warm palm.

FRED WEASLEY

ass. he’ll pull pranks that get you to fall over or trip just so he can watch your skirt fly up. you’re aware of this habit, of course, and you indulge fred by skipping spandex under your uniform in favor of frills and lace.

GEORGE WEASLEY

thighs. he wants to be between them all the time, feeling the flesh suffocate him and make him go lightheaded. george would make you squeeze his head harder as he lays between your thighs. if he has to die, he’d prefer it be by your glorious thighs.

[fazedlight]

“You didn’t jump,” Kara said.

Lena glanced up from her lo mein container, chopsticks in hand. “Jump?” Lena asked curiously.

Kara nibbled her lip thoughtfully, staring down at her potstickers. The evening had been a quiet one - a welcomed change of pace, after a wonderful and chaotic afternoon at Alex and Kelly’s wedding. When all was said and done - after the couple had left for their honeymoon and the party had quieted, after Eliza had taken Esme home for a fun week making chocolate chip cookies with her grandmother - Kara and Lena had found themselves in Kara’s apartment, settling down in their pajamas with a dinner of Chinese takeout.

“For Kelly’s bouquet,” Kara said. “You didn’t jump.”

Lena shrugged, digging into her food with her chopsticks again. “It wasn’t heading towards me.”

“You could’ve used magic,” Kara suggested, thinking of how a certain other super had used her powers to yank the flowers midair.

“And start a duel with Nia?” Lena grinned. “Seemed unwise. Besides, she has a likely candidate.”

Kara smiled. 

“At least I was there,” Lena teased softly. “I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

Kara shrugged. “It’s a human tradition.” 

Lena tilted her head. “What did Krypton have?”

Kara grimaced. “Genetic testing. AI matching. Rules about guild marriages,” she said, “My uncle destroyed the AI, at least. But romance was secondary on Krypton.”

“What about now? On Argo?”

“Romantic love is… still an alien concept, on Argo,” Kara said thoughtfully, popping another potsticker in her mouth. “It existed in some of our stories. But our upbringing, our culture- we had to squash a lot of that down.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s like…” Kara’s voice had lowered to a murmur, and Lena noticed a pink tint rising in her cheeks. Kara cleared her throat, staring into her food. “Now it’s like they’re marrying a close friend,” she continued. “I wouldn’t say they have romance like Earth does.”

“Like marrying a friend,” Lena mulled.

Kara quietly picked at her food.

“And what about you?” Lena said, partially curious, partially… well. She knew Kara could hear how her heart had started pounding, as much as she wished she could hide it.

“Me?”

“You grew up there. But you’ve been here for so long. Where do you fall?”

Kara’s brow crinkled. “I think I…like all the little things,” she murmured. “Giving flowers and chocolate. Kissing. Holding hands.”

“But?”

“Not a but,” Kara said as she glanced up - still avoiding Lena’s eyes, but looking thoughtfully ahead. “It feels so alien to me, but in this wonderful way. Exhilarating. Strange. I feel like I have this chimeric type of romance in my head - not Earthian, not Kryptonian. Like romance is…”

Kara grew quiet, turning her head to her food again, staring silently as the blush on her cheeks seemed to deepen. 

Lena watched for a moment, taking in the unmoving kryptonian - the hint of tightness in her posture, the unusual muteness and stillness. “What is romance for you, Kara?” Lena whispered.

Kara slowly tilted her gaze up to meet Lena’s. “My perfect partner at a game night,” she confessed quietly. “Knowing someone so well that it feels like magic when we’re together.”

Lena let out the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

Kara nibbled nervously at her lip. “You- you don’t have to see it that way,” Kara said, her voice cracking. “It’s not- it doesn’t have to change anything. But I’ll understand if it’s too much…”

“I feel it too,” Lena whispered. “When I’m with you. It always feels like magic.”

“Really?” Kara said. “You could want- you-”

“I didn’t want to catch the bouquet unless it was for you,” Lena confessed. “I just- all I want is to be with you.”

Kara smiled wide, and Lena watched on as the tension seemed to melt away from the still-blushing kryptonian’s frame. “I love you, Lena.”

Lena smiled back. “I love you too.”

[tiyawnyana]

Hi. I saw u have requests open and i wanna request Vander x neutral reader making outtt …. maybe perhaps :] have an awesome day

Lowkey adored this- had so much fun writing for younger Vander since I've been dying to oop

A/N: i headcannon that Vander was a FLIRT when he was younger bc look at that man and tell me he doesn't know he's a hunk

Characters: Younger! Vander x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: slowish build up, making out, maybe a teensy bit ooc but honestly? No i think he was a flirt

Children DNI

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Vodka Tonic

You had met Silco down in the mines originally, you were lost and he had helped you find the rest of the group.

That same evening, he had invited you out to have drinks with he and his friends.

That's where you met sweet Felicia, with her soft voice and cute dances, and Vander.

Vander, all muscle and large and gorgeous. Smooth, deep voice, that quite honestly could lull you to sleep.

"Got yourself a buddy now, aye Silco?" He has said eyeing you for a moment.

"Found him down in my section of the mines," Silco nods, patting your back.

You nodded weakly, a slightly strained smile on your lips as you wave awkwardly.

Felicia paid it no mind, smiling all too friendly at you as you walk in behind Silco.

"What's your poison?" Vander had asked, and you quirked a brow in question.

He lifts a bottle of liquor wordlessly with a faint smirk.

"Oh! Oh- uh," you think for a moment,"Vodka tonic," you managed to murmur under his curious gaze.

He nods with that same smirk,"You're after my own heart," he had stated, turning to make the drink.

Your cheeks warmed much to your dismay before shaking your head quickly.

You attempted to make conversation, but ended up just listening to Felicia talked about, well, whatever she was talking about.

You couldn't get your eyes off of Vander.

Vander with those thick arms. Vander with his gorgeous eyes. Fuck.

Over time, your presence became a constant. You had cooled yourself down, insisting that Vander wouldn't take interest, you were Silco's friend. Therefore, Vander's friend.

Until you found yourself alone in their little apartment with none other than Vander- Felicia wasn't feeling too hot and Silco.. well, Silco just sometimes disappeared, figuring out work or other things alike.

You almost left, feeling awkward and bumbling out apologies but Vander patted your back. Kind as ever. Insisting you stay and have another one of his drinks like any other night.

"C'mon, I don't bite," he has teased with a smirk,"Hard-"

The last part was muttered as he turned around to walk over to their liquor cabinet, and you did a double take, not believe he had said it.

You let a snicker tumble out and Vander grins over at you, relieved that his joke stuck.

The night had been... surprisingly nice.

He had joined you this time, nursing his own vodka tonic as he sat beside you at their little bar.

He asked about you. Your childhood, your upbringing. Turns out you had basically grown up of opposite sides of the Lanes, just associating with different kids and teens.

Vander kept eye contact, listening with his entire being as he cracked jokes or laughed about something you said.

You had ended up entirely too drunk, leaning against the bar and blatantly flirting with him.

Your cheeks were rosy, and Vander was chuckling as you complimented his eyes.

"You're drunk," he laughs, patting your knee.

"Doesn't take away the fact that you're handsome," you drunkenly chuckled.

"I'll take you seriously when you're able to tell me sober," Vander fixes you with a teasing pointed look as he stands. He stretches, a little sliver of his lower stomach showing as his shirt lifts before he's grasping your elbow and helping you up,"You can crash here for the night, can't have ya leavin' like this."

"Oh- it's okay, I've been piss drunk and made it home," a lie,"I'm fine-"

Vander doesn't say anything besides another pointed look, not leaving you any room for argument.

You grumble beneath your breath before being dragged off to a small room with an old, worn mattress.

He's quiet and it's almost serene. Intimate, even, when Vander hands you one of his worn shirts to wear for the night.

Laying in Vanders bed- alone, wearing his shirt, gazing up the ceiling as your vision swirls about gives you ample time to fantasize about the man currently crashing on the small couch out in the living/dining/main area.

The next day, you had woke with a shock, a thumping ache in your head as you sit up with a groan.

The sound and smell of food has your stomach rumbling.

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you step out of the room to be greeted with Felicia animatedly chatting away with Vander who seems to be cooking up some breakfast- eggs and bacon?

Felicia must have heard you, eyebrow raised as she turns before smiling in delight as she calls your name with a side hug.

"I'm sorry- feeling a little sick-ish, didn't want to give ya any illness," she suddenly smirks as she eyes the shirt you're wearing,"Nice shirt."

You look down in confusion before the memories of the night before rush to the surface, a hot blush of embarrassment covering your cheeks.

"Oh- um," you clear your throat before grinning sheepishly,"Thanks."

You watch Felicia wander into Vander's view and smirk at him as if she knows something.

You idly stand there for a moment before deciding to sit, feeling woozy.

You lean forward, elbows on your knees as you rub at your temples while willing yourself not to dart out of the small apartment.

Vander wanders over, old socks coming into view as he places a plate of breakfast on the small table.

He crouches before you as you lean back in surprise,"Got a headache, aye?"

He's there- unbelievably kind eyes peering at you as he hands you a glass of water.

"Yeah," you murmur, taking the glass with a thankful albeit awkward smile.

He stands, going back to the food and asks Felicia if she wants any before she's declining with a smirk, taking her leave.

After a moment, Vander comes back, pulling a small stool up to sit across from you with his plate in hand. It's almost comical, the stool is so small beneath him and the plate looks equally small.

"Food will help," he hands you a fork.

You take it, nodding in thanks as you begin to eat quietly.

You find your gaze trailing over to him as you both eat, quickly averting them when he looks back at you.

He carefully takes the plate from your hands when you're done, going back to the sink to clean them off.

You're moving to the bedroom to fetch your shirt, carefully folding Vanders as you step back out.

"I'm.. gonna go," you murmur awkwardly,"Got a shift down at the mines at noon."

Vander swings his rag up onto his shoulder after drying his hands, turning to look at you and leaning against the sink.

He eyes you for a moment, taking in your awkward fidgeting as you hold his shirt.

"Please don't... feel awkward about last night," he reassures carefully,"You were drunk. We can.. chalk it up to that."

You swallow thickly, nodding in embarrassment.

Taking your leave was even more awkward, somehow; placing his shirt down on the small table before nearly darting out, as if your tail were between your legs.

A week passes. Silco grows annoyed with you as you respectfully decline his invites to Vanders and his place.

You throw yourself into work, working longer hours until you hit a pipe, a burst of the grey shooting straight into your lungs.

You're dragged out of the mines, told you're to rest and take a few days, much to your dismay.

Silco hears of it, meeting you on the surface and scolding you.

On the second day of rest, Silco finds you at your dingy apartment, dragging you out and ignoring your groans and before you know it, you're at a bar.

The Last Drop.

You don't recognize it, finding it brand new and nearly empty, save for Felicia and Vander who converse at the back of the building by the bar.

"Hey!" Felicia waves to you both with a grin, patting your arm with a softer smile,"I heard what happened in the mines, I'm glad you're okay!"

Vander looks over at you, surprised to see you after a little over a week of nothing.

You're sheepish under his gaze, embarrassment written on your face.

"Glad you're alright," he says softly.

Felicia talks about her job, groaning about her sector of the mines while cooing about her spouse. Silco remains quiet as usual, writing into his journal and sipping the whiskey Vander had poured for him.

Wordlessly, Vander places a glass in front of you. Vodka tonic.

"Thank you-" you manage to say genuinely.

He smiles and nods at you, turning back to listen to Felicia.

After a little while of nursing your drink, Felicia yawns, stretching her arms above her head before side eyeing you, then Vander.

"Silco- can you walk me down to the Lanes? Connol works later at the mines tonight," she murmurs with a pointed look.

Silco looks at her in confusion before something dawns on him, nodding as he downs his drink and closes his journal.

Felicia kisses you on the cheek, bidding a Goodnight as she leaves with Silco.

You open your mouth, preparing to leave too- until another glass is placed in front of you.

It's not a vodka tonic, much to your surprise.

You look up at Vander in confusion, shock wracking your belly as he leans closer to you from across the bar.

"Try it," he nods to the drink.

You hesitate before shrugging, surprised at the taste- warm and light, a drink you're unfamiliar with.

"That's my favorite drink," Vander murmurs, eyeing you carefully.

You raise a brow,"Thought vodka tonics were your favorite."

Vander smirks slightly,"They're... good, but not my favorite."

You hum in response and he continues before you can say anything.

"Said it was my favorite to connect with you," he says that softer, turning to grab another glass and pours himself a cup, ending up with a vodka tonic.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion,"wh- huh? Why?"

He fixes his gaze on you again then walks around the side of the bar to sit on the stool beside you.

His thigh brushes against yours as he settles in, resting his elbows on the bartop.

He sighs, shrugs, lifting his drinks and sipping it as he side eyes you.

Your cheeks warm, a feeling of almost hope bubbling up beneath the surface. You don't dare say anything.

"I told you- that night- that I'll take you seriously if you tell me sober," he murmurs, eyes locked onto his glass.

You clear your throat,"Yeah- I remember.."

He only gives you a narrowed look as he turns to face you. His thighs frame yours as he turns you in the stool to face him.

"Well?" He smirks.

You narrow your gaze in disbelief.

Curse Vander and his kind eyes, his gorgeous face and large hands that now hold a soft grip over your knee.

You swallow thickly, cheeks reddening.

"I- uh.." you struggle to speak, laughing in surprise,"Wha-at is happening-?"

Vander just gazes at you wordlessly, a faint smirk on his lips.

You're unable to speak- wishing you could form the words that you know you said when drunk-

Luckily, it seems Vander understands your trouble.

Suddenly, he's lifting his hand towards your face. You flinch slightly, and you don't miss the hesitation in his eyes but he licks his lower lip as he gently cups your cheek.

"Easy," he murmurs as he carefully tugs you closer, free hand taking your clenched one off your thigh and thumbing your fist open, thumb rubbing your palm soothingly.

"Vander-"

"Tell me to stop," he locks his eyes on yours, waiting.

You don't say anything, your eyes flicking down to his mouth before trailing back up to his eyes.

He smirks. Then leans in, slotting his lips over yours.

This kiss is awkward, initially. You're stiff, surprised and still in complete disbelief.

Vander pulls back to look at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and lidded gaze.

He brushes a strand of hair from your forehead. His palm moves down from your cheek to the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your pulse point and that smirk returns as he feels your heartrate.

"You alright?" He murmurs, gaze flicking back down to your lips.

You lick them, nodding quickly before moving closer, nose brushing against his as you begin to breathe the same air.

He chuckles and fuck, it's attractive, but he finally presses his lips against yours again.

You sigh into him, nerves rattling into your bones but he feels good.

Vander leads the kiss, gentle and sweet, typical.

His thumb moves to your jaw, pressing slightly to silently tell you- open up.

You listen- mouth opening just enough for him to press his tongue in.

"Nnh-" you hum softly, shivers rolling down your spine as his tongue tangles with yours.

You're almost squirming in the barstool. Free hand clenched into a fist perched on your thigh, other in Vanders grasp. Spine straightening then slouching.

Vander sighs into you, turning your head slightly to kiss you deeper. A low moan escapes your mouth and you almost pull back out of embarrassment but he hums a 'no,' refusing to stop kissing you.

You lean closer, unclenching your free hand and placing it on his thigh.

He releases your hand, now carefully gripping your thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth higher up. A tingle blossoms in your belly- dozens of butterflies spawning in as Vander groans into your mouth, panting softly. He pulls back for a split second, just to tilt your head the other way and he's back to pressing his tongue into your mouth.

You inch closer, hand rising up on his thigh with a surprised moan as he nips your lower lip-

Suddenly the barstool wobbles and you yelp, pulling back from the kiss and he grasps your elbow, stabilizing you.

You gaze at him- your lips tingling and breathing slightly ragged. You manage a soft laugh, tilting your head forward and leaning against his shoulder to cover your blush.

He cups the side of your neck, urging you back with a fond smile.

"Want to crash here tonight?" He asks softly, gaze lingering on your eyes.

You peer up at him before returning his soft smile with a nod,"I'd like that."

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A/N: yippeeee!!! Lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list :)

[inamindfarfaraway]

An experience I tire of having on Batman comics AO3:

Fanfic Writer: Here’s a story about a character dealing with the trauma of childhood sexual abuse.

Me: Ah yes, a goldmine for angst. Who’s the character? Selina Kyle or Holly Robinson, who were forced into prostitution at a young age while homeless and desperate? Stephanie Brown, who was groomed for molestation as a kid, barely escaped and then had a creepy relationship with an older man that resulted in a teenage pregnancy?

Writer: Actually, it’s Jason Todd.

Me: Oh. Huh. Jason has never been sexually abused in comics canon.

Writer: Yes, but we don’t know that he wasn’t. He was homeless and desperate as a kid! He could have been a prostitute!

Me: Well, that’s… just Selina and Holly’s backstories, but okay. What else you got?

Writer: I have a fic about a character learning to feel secure in a home and found family after an unstable, abusive, impoverished childhood.

Me: Cool! That applies to all the aforementioned female characters and Cassandra Cain, who was a homeless vagrant for ten years after fleeing the absolute hell of her upbringing. It’s part of why I enjoy their arcs so much.

Writer: I also have one where a character is acting as the protector of the poor community they grew up in, with a special focus on looking out for kids in similar situations to them, wanting to be there for them in contrast to how the adults in their own life had failed them. They reflect on their past and stuff. You know, how they have hope for this community against all odds. Even if they They might have been part of the systematic problems keeping these underprivileged people down earlier in their career, but now they want to atone for that.

Me: This is exactly why Selina become a vigilante instead of just a thief! She did some self-reflection and realised that having made her own fortune, she’d abandoned the lower classes to indulge herself like all the complacent social elites she hates. So she vowed to protect and support the East End, her old neighbourhood (which happens to contain Crime Alley). She and Holly both later ran the Alleytown Kids, a gang of needy children that Selina had been a member of in her day. She even renamed it to the Alleytown Strays. And the idea of becoming what your childhood self needed, both for yourself and all the kids like you today, is foundational to why Stephanie ascending as Batgirl feels so right to me; she went from being a girl sitting on her roof wishing a Bat would save her to being the Bat saving and inspiring kids.

Writer: Yeah, but how does this sound? A hero’s war with depression, self-loathing, even suicidal ideation. They wonder if they can do anything but kill. They carry the pain of being violently murdered, thanks to their own long-lost mother no less, resurrected and later separately healed in a Lazarus Pit.

Me: I love it! Are you referring to Cassandra?

Writer: Um. Ooh, how about this fic? It has a gritty, tragic, tormented antihero wrestling with the moral complexity of their lethal actions, their fraught relationships with the Batfamily, and how closely they veer to embodying the very evil they seek to destroy. They’re true vengeance in a purer, sharper form than Batman, who they at once emulate and scorn. A hunter stalking Gotham’s worst souls in the night. They go on a beautiful journey to discover some degree of idealism, build stronger bonds, navigate emotional vulnerability and dare to believe that they are not damned or broken, and are still capable of healing as well as hurting. There are also themes of religion and spirituality.

Me: …What religion?

Writer: The antihero is Catholic.

Me: Oh my God. That has to be Helena Bertinelli.

Writer:

Me:

Writer:

Me: All your stories are about Jason Todd, aren’t they?

Writer: No! Some of them are about Dick Grayson or Tim Drake!

I love Jason and Dick and Tim. I adore many fics that revolve around them. But not every story needs to do that. Female characters have just as much grounds for interesting fanfiction, and often decisively more grounds for specific tropes that I often see assigned to the guys.