#oof poor baby

[mrsoharaa]

Men spreading their thick muscular legs, leaned back super comfortable on the cushioned sofa while tilting their head back to exhale a long, weighted sigh of distress or relief-- with their voluminous arms stretched out along the top of the couch.

[trafficlightsarethenewkickass]

So I've been reading a lot of fics where Tim thinks he's just a business partner instead of a family member, and while I love those fics it's so much angstier if he does believe he's family. Maybe he has absent parents, maybe he has bad parents, but I think either way he believes in love and family as good, precious things. Things he doesn't really understand.

(This got really long and very sad.)

So Tim reasons like this: Bruce is dad-shaped, when he's not grieving. So it's okay if he hurts Tim while he's grieving, because he'll love him later. His sixteenth birthday was just a test to make sure Tim can stay safe. It was love.

When Jason breaks into the Tower, Tim doesn't think he's mad at him for stealing his job. He isn't really listening, he's thinking You're my brother? Nice to meet you. He's thinking You love through pain? I can take pain.

When Damian tries to kill him, Tim thinks he loves like Jason, and sure, Jason gave him injuries that still hurt sometimes, and Damian prefers to make him fall which has terrified him since he watched the Grayson's fall. But it's okay, it's love. He knows it's love, because they're family.

And then Bruce 'dies' and Tim finds a pattern, and he tells Dick. The brother who loved in a way that's... softer. A way that wasn't scary or painful. And Dick doesn't believe him.

But that's love, right?

Because they're family, so this disbelief must be some type of love, way of caring, connection.

And then Damian comes out as Robin, and Tim finally listens when he's called an interloper. A thief. A charity case.

And Dick wants him to be Nightwing to Dick's Batman, when years ago he told Tim Nightwing would never belong to Batman.

Disbelief isn't love, it's part of something else.

So Tim goes away, and he rescues Bruce, and Dick catches him as he falls out a WE window. And the family is mending, so they want Tim back. And Tim accepts because there's no disbelief. So the love must be back.

But Jason and Damian stop hurting him physically. And Bruce doesn't test him. And Dick barely even asks him questions now, as if stopping opportunIties to disbelieve (he's actually just overcompensating by believing literally everything Tim says, including 15-energy-drinks-by-11-am Tim).

And Tim doesn't understand, because they're family. And his family doesn't love him like this.

Cue breakdown and tearful laying-out of his evidence that they don't love him anymore. Everyone else is horrified because yes we love you, but that wasn't love please tell me you understand-

[sunkty]

[sharonisthebettercarter]

big prostate ouchie OW--

y'all, spoiler confirmation of homie as a canonical 'top or die' straight up?? not what i expected--

enlarged prostates can be fuckin' rough for sex in general, but especially a bottom (also DEF not comparable to any legit potential medical procedures, like gais, def be mature and respectful about that cause let's not let enlarged prostates be the next peyronie's--curved *painful* erections due to scar tissue, *little* itty bitty curve is *okay* and *normal*, but an extreme curve is a medical problem), leik??

ooh boi, throw in all the fuckin' MILK (MAH BOI--) he's not givin' up any time soon and--

[wistfulwatcher]

YELLOWJACKETS | 2.06 “Qui”

[imogenkol]

— OCS AS CHARACTER TROPES

tagged by the lovely @corvosattano to do this uquiz! Thank you 💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

THE DISQUALIFIED

the disqualified [noun, origin unknown] refers to a character who's became too numb to the concept of the world, to the point of deeming oneself not able to express any sort of emotion, whether positive or a negative one. this state is usually the one to follow after feeling too much, as if to balance out the overwhelming sensation of human emotion. living up to their title, they often consider themselves 'disqualified' from being a human, forsaken and unloved, abandoned by the world they've never had interest in. they don't know where they belong or where should they go - every second of breathing air is a waste of oxygen someone worthier could use. the disqualified symbolize the constant state of feeling nothing but tiredness, state where all is merciless but the end. this is the one and only test outcome where i as the writer shall personally interfere - please, my most beloved disqualified, keep longing to feel again. there's so much you've never felt and so much you'll desire to feel again. in the words of Osamu Dazai (who's the creator of the title 'the disqualified' I so happily stole) - "Everything passes." a statement as short as it is true - everything passes, even the numbness. after it, you'll experience so much more beauty of the world - beauty that might pass just as the numbness did, but in it's temporary and unique nature lies the reason why it's to be cherished. so, please, try to hold on a bit. sometimes, holding on is the best we can do and most of the times, it's just enough. - a (former) fellow disqualified

THE ICARUS

[noun, greek origin] refers to a character, first curious and childish, who got so bored of the world's rotten nature they lost all hope in living. as the last resort to find the spark in the world of dying stars, the icarus may have attempted numerous times to touch the blazing surface of the sun, hoping to see any kind of redemption in the reflection of their face in the sun's flames. as a result, their wings were melted down and their bones broken by the harsh landing, yet that still didn't stop them from trying all over again. the people of icarus' nature often believe their place is with the stars and their desire to burn amongst them causes them to forget the beauty of the land they've abandoned, merely flying over it - the world has stored so much beauty for them they often struggle to see through the rays of sun and yet, it is still there. the most beautiful of flowers grow upon the lands their feet haven't even touched and maybe, just maybe, if they spared a bit of their time to give the (them forsaken) world another chance, they'd see that sky might not be the home they truly desire, but one they ve seeked just because they have seen only the worst of the world. - a fellow icarus

THE FALSE MUSE

the false muse [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that attempts to be perfect in order to receive certain amount of praise, or to inspire others to go in their footsteps. they tend to seek the spotlight, the podium, the gaze of the people looking up to them, with praise and validation being what keeps them pursuing the way of living they did before. the false muses surely have their goals, but the biggest one is to simply be better than yesterday and worse than tomorrow, to be in a constant state of self improvement they'll never deem enough. this is what leads them to the ocassional state of burnout, state one may describe as trying so hard to please the artist you become the opposite of a muse - hence why they're called false ones. the false muses might be tempted to think that they’ve never achieved perfection, but the truth is, there's no such thing as perfection, nor is there a way to achieve it. all muses could long for is merely the perfect version of themselves and they’ve achieved that already, over a thousand times.

THE SAINT

the saint [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that has taken upon themselves the role of saint via listening to prayers, concerns and troubles of others. characters falling under this cathegory are obviously merely metaphorical saints, which is a quality many people struggle to realize. the saints are said to be helpful and caring under any circumstance, believing that making themselves useful increases their self worth in the eyes of people they care about. they often forget that they are indeed humans in roles of saints, that they still have human limitations and problems that can potentially pile up until they fall from the metaphorical heavens they occupy...yet mostly, this doesn't stop them from taking burdens from people and putting it on their own back in hopes of being more responsible in taking care of them. there's strange naivety in the good they do, slight hope that they can take everything and anything they try to fix and help out with. this naivety is often replaced with denial and regret as soon as one realizes that sometimes, it's impossible to pose as a saint. but that's just the tragic cycle of them - trying to help out, getting dragged from heavens by the burden they voluntarily stole, falling, laying on the ground wide-eyed and tired before climbing back into the clouds again. as of now, there's no cure to being one of the saints - it is up to them to realize that they are not responsible for anyone's happiness apart from their own and that it's not selfish to put them before others. it's natural and - as much as they want to stray away from it - human. - a fellow saint

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

“Michael,” he named the first, because although he was not a believer in God, William Afton saw himself as a high power. This would be his archangel, herald, right hand, who would be stretched out into the dark fighting for his causes (and one day, he knew not, against them.)

“Evan,” he named the other, denoting his grace and mercy in giving the boy any place in his plans. Another interpretation of the name was “young warrior”. Clearly the little whelp was no fighter (but it was half right; he would be forever young, never allowed the chance to grow up.)

“Elizabeth,” he named the girl, a promise, a pledge unto himself. Her father was her oath to live by and live for—and for such loyalty, she would be blessed to abundance (and one day, he knew not, she would reach eagerly for more and lose herself to it.)

[angry-brony]

pfft oh no snicker you hate to see it.

people would rather play a good game over nv i guess.

womp womp.

[thiziri]

Commander Tim Laurence being questioned harassed by the press at his front door, in 1989.

[qiqi-guai-guai]

qi heng sweetie I'm sorry you're so heartbroken but did you expect her to wait for you forever - beautiful sincere idiot :(

[setsunasknife]

I’m still in my watch of Shippuden and with every episode all I keep thinking is:

Damn these people need therapy

[antihcroes]

sam carpenter’s guilt complex runs ten miles long and that’s the tea

[biconic-disaster25]

😭😭😭😭

i have a headcanon that when Silver is back in his future, he always does research on his friends.

every time he changes history, he goes back and tries to find out what their lives were like, who they ended up being with (if anybody), if they're still remembered over a hundred years after their passing, that kind of thing. and every single time, he finds out where they are buried, because he doesn't want them to be forgotten. he doesn't want anybody to forget who they were or what they did for the world. if he finds their grave sites abandoned and overgrown, he cleans them up and maintains them. if he finds that their contributions and heroics were forgotten, he puts up fliers and stuff around cities so that at least someone will know the truth.

and when months pass without any portals to send him back, when he starts to wonder if he finally won for good this time, he goes and he just spends time at their graves. he talks to them. he cries. he prays that something, anything, will happen so that a portal will appear and allow him to see his friends again, just one last time... he hates himself for feeling this way, because he believes that he should just be happy that everything is okay.

but he misses them so much. the only people who truly understand him all died over a hundred years before he was ever born.

[suksatoru]

here with me ⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ keigo x you

keigo's real laugh is nothing, if not music.

there's a front keigo uses when it comes to other people—a barrier he wasn't even aware existed. his faux laugh was easygoing. it was short, and it was charming. he used it whenever he was talking to the higher ups or his colleagues. hell, he used it when he spoke to anyone. he's never been able to share the intimacy of a real laugh with another person before.

secretly, he was envious of those strangers he'd hear every once in a while. whether it was on patrol, or if he was just strolling into a coffee shop—ordinary citizens, people, humans, we're always laughing around him.

it could be huffs of air, odd squeaks or giggles—people with heaving chests, people chuckling, people snorting, people wheezing—but keigo knew a real laugh when he heard one.

which was odd, because he hadn't heard his own real laugh until you.

you're tucked into keigo's side, half awake and half asleep as you stumble forward. your eyes are barely open—and you're so drunk that keigo can already imagine the headache his poor baby is going to have tomorrow morning

"c'mon songbird, up up up."

he takes off your clothes and makeup, changing you quickly into your nightgown as you talk. you babble on about anything and everything that comes to your mind as he works—keigo kneels in front of you, smiling softly as he slowly unravels your dress and takes off your silvery shiny heels—he pulls on your nightdress, and grabs your favorite fluffy socks before tugging them up and over your feet

"kei baby," you whisper, and he glances up at you as he finishes taking off the last bit of your jewelery. he places your earrings into the little gold box you have on his desk as his warm hands wrap around your waist. he hums quietly as you suddenly place your palms flat on his chest, shoving him

he falls onto the bed with a soft oof! before sending you a confused smile

"shh...let me think, kei."

keigo folds his legs, amusement shining bright in his eyes as he watches you. your hair falls from its updo in wisps, framing your face as you stand in deep thought near the edge of your shared bed—hand on your jaw as you tilt your head

your smirk forms slowly. it's small, sly, silly and so drunk as you suddenly kneel onto the bed. you crawl towards keigo and fasten your knees on both sides of his hips—straddling him as he blinks up in surprise, not expecting your warm mouth to begin trailing kisses up his neck

sexy, is all keigo can think as a soft sigh escapes his lips. he's just about to kiss you back—when suddenly, you speak up.

"are you my appendix? because i have this funny feeling riiiight here that makes me feel like i should take you out." you whisper seductively, gliding his palm towards your tummy and under your nightgown

keigo blinks once. twice. before he stutters with his response. he tries to form even just one word—but he can't. and suddenly, he's falling apart—he's laughing so hard that he can't fucking breathe.

you blink in response, tilting your head adorably in confusion. you thought that was a good pick up line! but keigo's face is flushed for an entirely different reason other than being flustered, and his lips are stretched into a toothy grin. you're concerned for the lack of oxygen in his lungs when he's suddenly wheezing, and god, his eyes are shining with tears.

"oh-oh baby, i fucking love you."

you're slapping his arm, whining and pouting about how he ruined the moment. but your tone—your very serious face while uttering the absolute worst pick up line keigo has ever heard has him struggling to breathe in his fits of laughter

but you can't even try to be mad. because keigo's eyes are crinkling with genuine joy, and his hands are pressing you to his chest, and this laugh is so authentic—it bubbles all the way from his belly, so heartfelt and silly that you can't help but giggle along with him

"it was good, right? are you feeling—heh, turned on?"

keigo's smile is breathtaking. no wonder he's on so many magazine covers every month. finally—he leans forward, pressing his warm mouth against yours in a soft kiss as he cradles your face with both of his palms

"yeah, baby. never felt more hot and bothered... you know, 'm gonna marry you one day." he murmurs against your lips as you squirm in his lap

"nuh uh. who said i'll say yes?"

he laughs again. it's softer this time, and he maneuvers you carefully back into bed. you look like an angry kitten when you glare at him, but he only grins in response as he tucks you in—tugging the soft comforter up and over your body before getting into bed himself. he pulls you on top of him, gliding his hand up the back of your thigh all the way up until he's at the base of your spine

"you make me very happy, ya'know that songbird?"

you hum in reply, eyes already drooping close as your hold on keigo tightens just the slightest bit. his wings naturally fold to wrap around you—cocooning you in his hold.

he can see you're too tired to respond, your eyes are already slipping close when he presses a kiss onto your forehead

he admires you quietly, thanking the cosmos for allowing him to have this one good thing in life. you're drooling all over his shirt, and keigo wouldn't ever wish to have someone else laying beside him at night.

[godzexperiment]

thinking about nix and angelic enhanced senses (him just 100% joking at some point like 'ah the torture is neverending it operates itself i am merely the puppet')

-nothing is scentless, unless he messes up his ability to smell for till it heals itself *sometimes he'll just sniff at some peppermint oil as it hurts less than smelling that the candy he is eating was made exactly 134 days, 2 hours and 5 seconds ago*

-the actual consideration if somebody were to be like 'k here is all the i know not so scentless scented lotion etc what one makes you the least nauseous' (or just inquiring/considering him in general)

-you think as an result he'd favor soft, quiet music etc but no he's very much 'chemically smelling as hell candles, metal on hardcore speakers' comfortable surprisingly *it varies though*

-sunglasses on hand for light issues/various measures for every little possible sense that could go haywire and if something happens when he has no solution he'll just probably curl in on himself like 'k cool suffering it is'

-'you were near an candle store 2 weeks ago and have probably showered countless times but the smell of it lingers upon you to make me dizzy apparently'

[hoshigray]

Request! Geto never had to worry bc reader basically never interacts with guys. That 3we until he saw her hugging her male coworker and now he has to put her in place if ykiwm😋

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh yikesss, possessive sugu incoming, oof. lmao this is lowkey like the one i did for my kinktober, but what the hell

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; Geto is a jujutsu tech sorcerer - shibari; rope bondage (cross-chest box tie, frogtie) - sex toys; use of a vibrator - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - pleasure denial - mild possessive behavior - pet names (angel, baby, pretty girl, my love, sweetie) - cameo: Gojo - mention of drool/saliva.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

“Hahhh…ahhaa, Sug’ruu, I can’t…Mmm!”

“Aww, are you feeling well, my love? You look awful.”

And whose fault would that be?

Geto removes his jacket to put aside one of the chairs of the many desks. He stretches his sides and cracks his neck, releasing a massive sigh after a long inhale. He’s now relaxed that he’s back in his classroom. 

However, he isn’t the only one here. Someone he knows is here with him — waiting for him to return. And Geto’s lips curl into a smile once he looks down to see someone on the cold wooden floor.

You were in nude form, clothes sprawled to the side of you. A long red rope contorts around your body, binding your arms behind your back with your wrists tied together. Your thighs and ankles were restricted together; the red ropes tied the leg together to that of a frog-like position. And a red blindfold covers your line of sight. You were whining and writhing in this bounded position. Why? 

Geto slowly walks around you to take in the view, noticing that the vibrators he placed on your body were still where he had left it. Your nipples had a vibrator taped on to each, and the buzzing noises made Geto’s skin crawl. There was another set of bullet vibrators buzzing down south. Three white wires are connected to a remote lying on the floor, and they seem to be stuffed inside the wet entrance of your chasm. So, five vibrators are teasing your body all at once. What a hell. 

He comes down to your level, bringing you up with a hand to lie on his propped knee, and your breathing so low and hushed. “How are you feeling, angel?” He lifts the blindfold to have you peek at him, noticing your eyes are puffy and wet. Poor thing was crying for him.

“Sugu…” You called him by his nickname, a tool in hopes of getting on his good side. “Can you…please…”

Dark eyebrows raise, “Please what, pretty girl?” He shields your eyes again and slithers his hand down from your chin to your neck, and he loves how your breathing lessens when he approaches your breasts. He pulls off one taped vibrator to free the bud. For a moment before he blows on it, “What do you want from me?”

“Can I—Ohh!” His tongue flicks your nipple; it’s so sensitive and sore! “Can I please…cum…?”

“Ahh, what a dirty girl,” Geto chuckles to you as he kisses your mound, his hand now traveling further down to the three wires on the floor. He gently pulls one, a loud noise of one vibrator bumping into another. “You were doing so well being patient for me. I have one more meeting, baby; why can’t you wait after that?”

Your breathing gets shaky, leaning towards his frame to get through. “Because...Mmmm, I want you to make me feel—Ohh…! Good...”

“Is that right?” More laps around your nipple before he sucks it in. “You want me to make you feel good? Not Satoru?” You gulped at the mention of the other’s name, feeling Geto’s intense, indigo gaze on your face. 

In all honesty, Geto admits he can be a jealous man — especially regarding you, his sweet angel. The reason why you’re in this situation is because your partner saw you hug another man yesterday. Satoru Gojo, the dark-haired man’s best friend of all people! Granted, it was because you were only giving a gift of sweets to the tall sorcerer because he came back from a terrible, dangerous mission with Geto. And the white-haired fool, oblivious to personal space as always, brought you in for a hug as he thanked you for the bag of sweets you handed him. 

Putting his hands on you did make Geto unpleasant, yet this was Gojo we were talking about; the guy acts like personal boundaries don’t apply to him. However, what did upset the man more was you reciprocating the embrace with a cheerful smile — a smile only Geto was to bear witness to. It twinged his heart – cliche, but it did. You toyed with his feelings, and he had to correct you for such behavior. 

The man increases the intensity of the vibrators inside your cunt, and your body jerks unexpectedly. He then slides a finger inside your vagina to play around your walls with the toys, and you have to remind yourself not to scream as his fingertips scrape the velvet texture. “You hurt my feelings, sweetie,” he listens to your whimpers get higher and higher as he increases the speed of his finger. “You know I’m not one for sharing — especially with Satoru.” 

“Hahhh, Sugu’uuu, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ You press your lips together to suppress a moan once Geto takes your nipple back into his mouth, pushing the nub to the roof of his mouth and skimming it with his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes your frame at the addition of another finger inside you, and more tears well up from how much stimulation is happening. “Nmoohh, please, I won’t do it again…”

“You promise?” He whispers into your ear, slowly removing his fingers to increase the intensity of the vibrators inside you. Those same fingers now go to your clit where he swipes in slow circles, and you nearly choke on your spit. “Tell me, who’s my favorite girl?” 

“Mee! I’m y’re favorite…!” Despite the ropes tightening around your ankles and thighs, your lower half still jolts to his touch on your delicate pearl, trying to sway your hips to move with the friction. 

“And who’s your only favorite man in this world?”

“You, Sugu!” Oh, the way you desperately said his nickname was so pathetic to hear — so sweet. He couldn’t stop the sneer from flourishing on his face. “You’re my favorite—Mmmph! Always…”

Good girl. “You wanna come so bad, baby?” His thumb and forefinger rub against your clitoris, evoking cute squeaks to fly out your drooling mouth. You nod hastily; that’s not what he wanted, so he pinches your clit. “Words, pretty girl, words.”

“Yessh, please let me cum, my love…!” Now that’s what he wanted to hear, being all cute and pitiful for him to grant you what you’re craving. And you can feel it coming, your nerves heightened with the climb of your orgasm.

But then, you sense his fingers gone from your clit, the cold air occupying their absence. Instead, he puts the vibrator that once teased your nipple back and rests your figure onto the cold wooden floor once more. Your brows screw together with quivered lips, “No, pleaseee! Don’t leave me again!” You whined.

Too late, he was adorning his jacket and heading out for the sliding door of the classroom. “I’m sorry, angel, but I gotta get to this meeting first. Don’t make too much noise while I’m gone, okay?” God, you pulled his heart the way you helplessly laid there. “Don’t give me that look, my love. I’ll be right back when it’s done.” He steps outside and closes the door behind him, swiftly locking it while checking for his surroundings.

And it was a good thing he did, too. Because right around the corner came his best friend, Gojo, the blindfolded sorcerer, retrieving the raven-headed other. “Yo, there ya are, Suguru! The meeting’s about to start; don’t slack off before Yaga comes for our heads.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he walks alongside his companion, heading to the other side of the hall. 

“Hmm, by the way, where’s Y/n?” The white-haired man inquires while scratching his ear. “I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

Geto hums to the question, the shrug of his shoulders to seal the deal. “They felt sick all of a sudden, went to go see Shoko to check.”

The taller sorcerer tilts his head with a scoff. “Who said you were a good liar?”

“You’re one to talk.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.