#really have no idea what to put here but I guess there's not exactly a wrong way to do this so

[cosmos-kitty]

Do you have any tips for painting with gouache? like how do you get it to stay a nice solid color over a large swath of paper? and how do you blend it so seamlessly?

Of course, here's a few pointers off the top of my head:

1. I've used gouache for this in the past so it's possible, but the flat backdrop on my latest WIP is actually acrylic! A nifty thing I've found about putting a layer of acrylic down, is that it creates a barrier once dried and essentially makes the paper waterproof. This means you can work in gouache on top without it mixing with the background, and you can wet a section and completely wipe it clean with a cloth/tissue and it won't disturb the acrylic layer underneath. It also makes the paper more resilient, and you don't get as much pilling/tearing from the moisture

To get an even wash it's mostly getting the right consistency, I add just a little water - enough that the paint is less "tacky" as you drag your brush along paper, but not so much that it's runny or translucent. It takes a couple of attempts sometimes!

2. Also for the current WIP that I posted earlier, like the vast majority of my traditional pieces, keep in mind that it's mixed media. So I assume you're referring to the blue-green gradient on the bird and wondering how I got the gouache to blend like that - it's actually colouring pencils! I'll often switch between dry and wet media, even layer them back and forth, whatever makes the most sense to get the effect I want 😁

3. On that note, when you're working with paint, or any medium really, I can't recommend enough having a "test" sheet that you do both before and during a traditional piece. It allows you try out different medium combos, see what shade your gouache will dry into, and catch any issues before it ends up on your artwork. I often see artists being encouraged to just Bob Ross their way through a piece, the idea being that you'll just have happy little accidents that you'll naturally work into the piece - maybe, but you'll also possibly irreversibly wreck your hard work and have to start again. I don't know, I'm just a methodical person I guess, but seeing someone just directly apply something to the page when they're not sure what it's going to do makes me wince - no two art supplies are the same! All of those paints and pens have different chemical makeups, there's an unlimited number of ways what you're using could interact, good or bad.

Since it's already there, I usually reuse one of the leftover failsons from the process of making the wash background, then test everything on top of that. That way you can see exactly what shade the paint will dry on top of whatever colour the background is:

Doesn't need to look good, nobody sees it (usually) and you can also test the thickness of your brushstrokes while you're at it.

Anyway, I hope this helps!

[twink-woman]

I’m kind of confused as to why we’re even drawing a distinction between people who self-identify as trans women/fems and people who self-identify as femboys (but notably not trans women/fems) in the first place, because, like… Yeah, if you’re a transfeminized person, you’re going to be TMA, regardless of what you call yourself.

But the way that I’ve always understood the process of transfeminization (how individuals’ identities* become transmisogyny-confined) is that it necessitates a rejection (at least to a certain extent) of one’s assigned maleness and a simultaneous transition towards femininity/womanhood, even if one doesn’t specifically label themselves as a woman or fem.

*(Btw, I’m not trying to play idpol here, I’m just using the word “identity” to mean “the category into which a stratified society places you based on certain characteristics like gender”)

It’s both of these things in tandem that creates the intersection between oppositional and traditional sexism that we know as transmisogyny: transitioning toward womanhood invalidates the idea that “man” and “woman” are distinct, unchanging categories, and rejecting male assignment invalidates the idea that manhood is inherently superior to womanhood.

So, with that said… Are GNC cis men TMA? Are they only TMA if they specifically call themselves femboys or sissies?

They’re certainly discriminated against, in the same way that femininity is always viewed as lesser, no matter who embodies it. But proximity to transfemininity, being mistaken for a trans woman, does not a transmisogyny-confined identity make.

To put it another way: I’ve seen trans men call themselves femboys before, and I think we can all agree that they are not TMA, but they are still feminine men. It’s just that transfemininity, the way it���s defined by and marginalized within a transmisogynistic society, is not treated the same as being a feminine man (see: the third-gendering/degendering of trans women), and I do believe it’s because of that rejection of male assignment that it’s not.

I don’t think whether or not someone calls themself a femboy or a sissy is entirely irrelevant to whether or not they’re TMA, of course not. But I also don’t think the two are inherently interlinked. I don’t think these identities are inherently transfeminized because, at the end of the day, they’re just words that some people call themselves, rather vague identity labels, and what you call yourself is not what makes you TMA, as you said.

Does that mean femboys or sissies aren’t/can’t be TMA? Of course not. But I also don’t think that GNC cis men (regardless of what specific labels they use for themselves) being interpersonally discriminated against for their proximity to transfemininity makes them TMA — makes their identities inherently confined by the entire system of oppression that is transmisogyny — anymore than TME trans people’s proximity to trans women makes them TMA.

So, I guess my real question is just: What exactly is this post about? Because if it’s not about GNC cis men who call themselves femboys and sisses, if it’s only about femboys and sissies who are neither cis nor transfem… Then, again I have to ask, why does a line need to be drawn when the only distinction between these two groups of TMA people, transfems and non-transfem femboys/sissies, is the particular words they choose to label themselves with?

And I really want to stress, I’m not asking this to be inflammatory or contrarian or anything, I am genuinely curious because I feel like I’ve missed out on some crucial context here.

I have seen TME people time and time again insist that “actually everybody is TMA,” and then use this talking point as a subtle ploy to just get transfems to shut up about transmisogyny. So I will fully admit that I reflexively dismiss arguments about how “GNC men are TMA” or “all intersex people are TMA” or “[whoever else they decide to tokenize this week] are TMA” when I see them because of that prior experience. But I don’t want to do that with this post since I don’t feel at all like that’s what it’s advocating.

I may be way off the mark here, but I figured I’d just ask, ‘cause it’s an interesting discussion either way.

it’s low-key kind of crazy when people say “femboys aren’t TMA and if you need proof just see how little people care about XYZ femboy since she came out as transfem” because this is literally just the same “closeted/stealth transfems can’t be transmisogyny affected” argument all over again. like explain to me how y’all can agree that closeted/stealth trans women aren’t transmisogyny exempt but femboys/sissies are? it isn’t a privilege to have to sexualise yourself and present your identity a certain way to get work or recognition. just because any person assigned male at birth asserting their identity as a woman specifically results in a specific kind of transmisogyny doesn’t mean that people assigned male at birth who present femininely but don’t identify as women aren’t transmisogyny affected. and just because some femboys/sissies only present femininely because of a kink doesn’t mean they wouldn’t lose their jobs, homes, families, friends & partners if somebody found out. transmisogyny is not determined by our personal identities for fucks sake that’s why we can’t identify out of it. we need to quit the idpol shit for real.

[lavandulawrites]

Autonomy Of a Free Soul

Chapter 1: Wonderland

Repost

This is an yandere genshin men x reader that will have multiple chapters. This will be cross posted on ao3. It will partially follow the plot of genshin impact.

Synopsis: You find yourself in the meadow by the giant oak tree at Windrise. You have faint memories of falling into a well which is deeply hidden inside a cave by your home. You get captivated by the tune a green clad man plays on his lyre high up in the tree.

Masterlist

Warnings: female reader

Word count: 4227

Light peered through your eyelashes as your eyelids fluttered. A pleasant warmth enveloped you. The fresh breeze caressed your cheeks. The surface underneath you was soft and you would have thought that it was a bed had you not smelled the fresh air of the outdoors.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked at the sun. You slowly sat up and let your eyes roam your surroundings. You were laying on a green meadow filled with various delicate wild flowers. A few birds flew across the clear sky. A few dandelion seeds blowed with the wind towards you. To your right were a huge tree, who’s branches reached for the blue endless sky.

After a while you rose to your feet and began following the little stream up to the tree. A couple of fishes swam happily along the stream and a few frogs hopped in front of your path.

Despite your confused state, you were filled with tranquility. Had you not known better, you would have thought you had reached heaven.

As you stopped by the large tree you heard the soft melody of a lyre. You walked around the thick trunk in search of its source.

On one of its thick branches sat a light green clad man. His long and slender fingers gently strummed the strings of his lyre, creating a beautiful melody. Though the melody had no words, you could feel the heavy emotion it carried.

You had no idea how long you stood underneath the tree listening to his song. The man opened his eyes and revealed his stunning cyan irises. He was around your age, early twenties, but his big eyes revealed wisdom beyond your imagination.

His gaze met yours and you were stunned by his beauty. He hopped down from the branch with playful elegance.

He bowed before you, his lyre behind his back. “Hello my beautiful maiden. What an honour it is to have such a stunning lady to be my audience. I am truly a lucky bard” he smiled and winked at you playfully.

You were taken aback by his flirtatious words. “Hello” you smiled back. “Your music is really beautiful. Does the song you just played have a name?”

“Not yet” he shook his head. He tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner before he lit up “What if I name it after you? What’s your name sweetheart?” his tone gleeful.

“[Name]. What’s yours?”

“Oh my, what a lovely name! I am Venti the bard” he took of his hat and bowed deeply, with his feet crossed. He spun his hat in the air before he put it back on. “I haven’t seen you around before and believe me when I say that I know everyone in Mondstadt. So [Name], where exactly are you from?”

At his question your eyes widened. You had almost forgotten how you woke up suddenly in the flowerbed. Before you had woken up in this unfamiliar landscape, you had been on a walk in the woods by your home. You had explored a cave and had tripped on a root and fallen down into an ancient well. When you opened your eyes you found yourself here in the meadow.

“You are right I’m not from around here” you sighed. You hesitated. Was it wise to tell him about the well? You couldn’t be too sure if he was to be trusted or not. After a moment of thinking, you chose to tell him all the details. Maybe he could help you? “I fell into a well inside a cave back home, but strangely I can’t remember everything else. My memories from my home is there, but they’re glossy” you prayed that he wouldn’t think that you were crazy.

“I see…That’s really unfortunate. I don’t think I can help you with returning home” Venti smiled sadly.

“It’s okay. I guess there is no helping it…”

His hand slipped into his shorts and pulled out a cloth that was round in shape. He opened the flowery cloth and revealed the reddest apple you had ever seen. “Do you like apples? I myself absolutely love them. I can’t ever seem to get enough” he laughed.

“I love apples” you nodded and returned his smile.

Venti skilfully broke the apple in half with his fingers. He gave you one of the half’s. The aroma of the apple reached your nose and you hummed in delight.

“Smells good? It will taste even better” he took a bite himself and closed his eyes in delight.

You followed his example. The taste did not disappoint. The apple was juicy and sweet. It was perfect.

“Do you know where you’ll stay tonight?” he asked as he wiped his fingers in the cloth. His apple completely vanished.

“No…” you smiled sheepishly.

“I see… The city is quite far away. A couple of hours walk in fact.”

His eyes got a certain glint in them. “But I have another way of transportation” he winked.

You tilted your head at his implication. “Another way of transportation? What might that be?”

Venti turned his back slightly towards you and pointed at a round crystal decoration. “I’ll use this! The power of anemo sure is amazing!”

“Anemo?” you blinked at him.

Venti quickly spun around. His expression one of shock. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what visions and elemental powers are?”

“Umm… I don’t… Sorry” you winced in embarrassment. You really didn’t understand a thing.

“I guess you really aren’t from around here. Worry not! Visions are amulets that let people control the elements. Anemo is the wind element. Mondstadt, where we are now, is the nation of anemo”

“Ohh… I see” you nodded, but you found it difficult to believe in amulets and elemental powers. Was he playing tricks on you?

“I can sense your hesitation. Let me demonstrate”. The bard held his hand of for you to take. “May I?”

You nodded as you took his hand. His skin was soft and warm.

Wind engulfed you both as Venti wrapped his arms around you. “Hold on tight!”

The wind lifted you both up high in the air. You two soared fast in the air and you clutched your hands at tightly as you could onto his arms. “Don’t be scared! Trust me! We will not fall down!”

The landscape became almost blurry underneath your feet as you moved as fast as the wind. You had never felt as free as you did soaring high in the air with a man you just had met. It felt like a scene from one of the fairytales your mother used to read you.

A city could be seen in to horizon. When you two got closer, you could faintly make out three large windmills and a large cathedral.

“That’s Mondstadt city. The city of freedom. Home to many bards such as myself” Venti’s breath ghosted your air softly.

“It’s beautiful” you said in awe.

Venti laughed at your comment. “It really is isn’t it?” he sounded almost like a proud father.

The two of you landed in front of a big stone bridge which led up to the city.

The cobblestone clicked underneath your shoes as you made your way over. A small boy was standing by the edge of the bridge feeding a couple of pigeons. The birds fled at the sight of the two of you, earning you both an earful from the little boy.

When you reached the gates, you were greeted by two knights. Venti only smiled and greeted them, which they returned.

The city was lively and music filled the streets. Multiple street vendors were littered across the streets.

Venti led you up to a more quiet part of town. “This hotel is both cheap and nice” he told you as he opened the hotel door which was painted a lively red colour.

The walls were of dark brown panesl and the red rug with a forest motif that led to the staircase was well-loved. The lobby was decorated with different nicknacks. On the walls hung paintings of the city.

The owner of the hotel was an elderly man with blond hair with greying streaks. When he smiled his eyes crinkled with crows feet. He looked like someone’s grandfather. He smiled at Venti from behind the reception desk that was cluttered with various papers and an comical large flower vase filled with tulips in the colour of the rainbow. “Hello Venti. What can I do for you today?”

“Hello Meier. Do you have any rooms available for this young lady?” he smiled at the man. Venti had told you on the way to the hotel that Meier owed him a favour. “She doesn’t have anywhere to stay tonight and I thought since you owe me, that maybe you had a spare room for her?”

Meier’s smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry Venti, but I really don’t have any spare room. The whole hotel is booked. You see a couple of diplomats from the other nations have come here and they have taken all the rooms in the finer hotels”. He turned his eyes round you “I am really sorry miss. Perhaps you could try some of the ins close to the city?”

You bid your farewells to Meier before you exited the hotel.

You sighed as you sat down at a bench near a fountain. You were far from home, in a whole different world given the unfamiliar city and the weird creatures or rather monsters you had seen, and you had absolutely nowhere to stay the night. Money was also something you completely lacked.

Venti was staring of into the distance, deeply lost in thought. After a while he turned towards you. “As Meier said, the other hotels are absolutely packed so it’s not worth to even check. ” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Here I was trying to be a good Mondstadt guide too” he shook his head, causing his braids to gently flap against his cheeks in a rather cute manner.

“No, no. Don’t apologise. This isn’t your fault. Not in the slightest” you tried to reassure him. “But what about the ins? Maybe they have some rooms available?”

“They might have some rooms available, but the roads outside of the city is filled with monsters lately. It’s simply to dangerous for someone without a vision. And I take it that you don’t have any training in combat?” his voice was serious and his eyes intense.

“I see. I don’t have any combat skills” you sighed.

After a moment of silence Venti spoke up again. “What if you stay at my place? There’s space and I will sleep on the couch” he looked at you with something you recognised as hope. His large eyes glittered and the way the soft light from the sunset hit them made them absolutely breathtaking.

You were so in awe of his beauty that you almost forgot to answer him. “I would love to. Thank you very much Venti. I really hope it isn’t too much of a bother for you” you smiled at him with gratefulness.

“Not at all! Let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Venti’s home was in a apartment building in the livelier part of the city. His apartment was on the top floor (the fifth floor). The walls were covered in a pale green wallpaper with dandelion seeds motifs. It consisted of a bathroom, a bedroom with a queen bed, a open kitchen and living room, a closet and a balcony. The balcony overlooked a little stage with rows of chairs in front of it. Venti told you that it was a place where amateurs could preform, be it music or plays.

Venti led you to the kitchen which he began rummaging through the cabinets. “It’s late so I’ll cook us some dinner. It won’t take long.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked as your eyes trailed hai movements. Despite his human appearance, he moved like he belonged in the sky. His every movement was fluid and his movements looked like dancing steps.

“No. Sit back and relax. You’re my guest after all” he smirked.

You hummed at the delicious taste of the pasta bolognese. “Wow Venti! You’re a really great cook!”

“Thank you, though I’m only an amateur” he smiled as he took a bite himself.

The dining table was of light wood. It was cowered with a white table cloth with embroidered light blue flowers. A candlestick was lit in the middle of the table, creating a cozy feeling. At the end of the table were various note sheets which Venti had tried to hastily clean up when you first entered the apartment.

“How does one obtain a vision?” you asked as you took a sip of the dandelion wine he had poured in your glass.

“It’s a favour from the gods. Those that reside in Celestia. It’s a sing of great ambition. The anemo vision is given to those who value freedom in a great deal” he nodded towards his vision that were laying on top of the countertop.

“Ahhh I see. How many types of visions are there?”

“Seven. All the seven nations are the homes of different elements. Mondstadt as you know is the nation of anemo, Liyue is the nation of geo, Inazuma is electro, Sumeru is dendro, Natlan is pyro and Snezhnaya is cryo” he spinners his fork in some spaghetti before he lifted the fork to his mouth. “Each nation have their own archon, god if you will. The one in Mondstadt is called Barbatos.”

“I see” you nodded. “Quite fascinating.”

“Yeah, I guess you can indeed say that”. He noticed your empty plate. “I’ll go and clean the dishes, then I will make your bed” he rose form his seat and collect the empty dishes.

“I should help you” you stood up and carried the empty wine glasses to the sink.

“No it’s okay. You’re my guest” he said reassuringly.

Venti’s bookshelf’s were filled with various works of poetry, fiction, song lyrics and historical books. You ran your fingertips over their backs. Your fingers were coated in a light veil of dust. You took out a book on Mondstadt’s history out of the shelf. You sat down in the light teal sofa. A few strands of treads were sticking out of the seems, making it clear as day that this sofa was well loved.

Your eyes went to the kitchen were Venti was humming on a tune while he scrubbed a pot clean. His voice was angelic and you hoped you would be so lucky that you would be able to hear him sing sometime. Venti was so kind and welcoming. He had told you the history of Mondstadt as you had walked among the streets of the city. He had told you so much that you felt like you knew Mondstadt like one would with a childhood friend. Yet, you knew absolutely nothing about Venti. You knew of his profession and his love for dandelions and wine, but that was it.

Venti’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m finished” he stood in front of you on the soft rug. “It’s getting late, so maybe we should get some sleep. I have made your bed. Don’t worry, I changed the sheets too” he smiled. The sun from the sunset casted a warm light on Venti’s features. His eyes glittered more than ever before and he looked like someone straight out from a fairytale. He didn’t look human.

“Yes we should. Thank you Venti. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m extremely grateful” you smiled sweetly up at him.

He chuckled. You swore that you could see a faint blush lightly dusting his cheeks.

Venti’s bed was comfortable and the duvet soft. You quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.

Your dreams were of wells and deep caves. You tried to wake up, but to no avail.

After a long night filled with night terrors, you finally woke up to bird chirping. Sunlight were shining through the white curtains, warming your skin.

You lazily sat up and stretched your limbs. You still felt helpless regarding your situation, but it was little you could do. At least at the moment.

You turned on the shower and let the warm water hit your skin. Venti’s soap had a slight smell of apples and you welcomed the faint fragrance.

After your shower you got dressed and went to the kitchen.

Venti was sitting by the kitchen table while reading a newspaper. His black brows furrowed in concentration. On the table were a basket of bread and strawberry jam and apple jam. He had poured two glasses of apple juice which looked refreshing. His eyes flickered up to meet yours. He smiled gently. “Good morning sleepyhead. Slept well?”

You took the seat opposite of him. “Good morning. Not really. I had a nightmare” you sighed. “But thanks again for staying here. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t” you laughed slightly.

“Nightmares are an awful thing. Unfortunately I can’t seem to get rid of them myself” he smiled sadly before his expression changed into a jovial one. “You’re very much welcome.”

You two talked about everything and nothing while you ate. Venti was easy to talk to and you felt you could tell him everything. It was almost like you were compelled. It was a peculiar feeling.

“We need to get you some new clothes.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any money…” you sighed. Your situation really was unfortunate.

“I will pay. Consider it a gift from me” he smiled.

“But you have already done so much for me. I feel guilty.”

“Please don’t. Believe me when I say that it’s my pleasure.”

“Okay. Thank you” you smiled at the bard.

He returned you smile. “I know of another outlander that is here in Mondstadt. I can introduce you to her. Maybe she will be able to help you with your predicament? And if not, you will have made a new friend. Friends is something you never can get too many off.”

Angle’s Share was rather empty given how early it was. Some patrons were playing a game of cards as they sipped on their beer steins.

The bartender by the counter greeted you as you entered. His hair was red as fresh blood, giving a stark contrast to his pale skin. He was handsome and you could easily understand why he was the bachelor of Mondstadt (that was Venti had told you on your way there).

He grunted at the sight of Venti. “Here to pay your tab?” his voice deep and velvety.

Venti laughed awkwardly. “No, I’m actually showing my friend here, around Mondstadt. Diluc this is [Name], [Name] this is Diluc” he gestured to each of you.

“Nice to meet you [Name]” the red head smiled.

“Nice to meet you as well Diluc” you smiled back.

“Oh by the way. Have you seen Lumine today?” the bard asked Diluc who was polishing a wineglass.

“She’s upstairs” his answer curt as he continued to work.

Venti nodded before he led you upstairs.

The second floor was empty save from a blond girl and a fairy-like creature that was floating beside her. The girl turned around and smiled when she saw Venti. The fairy followed her example. “Tone deaf bard!” she said she waved her little hand. Her voice was high pitched and nearly gave you a headache.

“Hello ladies” Venti playfully greeted. “This is [Name]. [Name] this is Lumine and Paimon. Lumine was the one who saved Mondstadt from the incident I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you. Though I couldn’t have done it on my own. I got help from my friends” Lumine smiled. Her topaz coloured eyes shone in the sunlight that peered through the open window. “Why don’t you two take a seat?”

“Nice to meet you Lumine. I must say your strength, from what I have heard, is truly admirable” you smiled as you took a seat on the wooden bench. Venting followed suit and took a swipe at besides you. His knee brushed against yours as he made himself comfortable. You could smell his scent which smelled of fresh apples and wildflowers. It was a pleasant scent that suited him perfectly.

“You flatter me” Lumine smiled. “Should I order anything for you? Some dandelion wine? Or maybe some freshly pressed juice?”

“Dandelion for me if you would be so kind” Venti said. You could see his excitement from the mere mentioning of dandelion wine. His love for the wine was kinda cute.

“I would love some orange juice” you said.

Lumine nodded before she rose and ventured downstairs. The stairs creaked under her steps.

Paimon turned her gaze to you. “So, how did the two do you meet?” she tilted her head in a a childlike manner. Sparkles sparkled around her.

“We met at Windrise” Venti answered.

Paimon nodded. Her brows were furrowed in thought. She was about to say something more when Lumine came back with two glasses. One with orange juice and the other with dandelion wine.

You and Venti thanked her before you both took a sip. The orange juice was fresh and a little sweet, but not too sweet. You hummed in delight.

“So where did you two meet?” she asked as she took a sip of her half full glass of grape juice.

“Windrise” Paimon answered. Lumine shot her a look. “They told Paimon while you were ordering. Don’t give Paimon that look!” the little fairy stumped her feet in the air.

“Windrise… that’s quite far from the city. What were you doing out there?” the blond woman asked you.

At her question you froze. Venti noticed your hesitation. “She’s an outlander just like you Lumine.”

Lumine’s eyes widened. “Oh really? I have never met another outlander. How did you end up here in Teyvat?” her eyes curious.

“I am not too sure actually… I just woke up in a field of flowers by the oak tree” you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Ah… I see. I myself lost my brother. We were travelling from world to world before we ended up here. I am on a mission to find him again” her voice filled with determination. Lumine was a truly remarkable woman and you found yourself in awe at her. You wished you had her bravery. “Paimon here is my companion and guide” Paimon smiled wide at her words.

“Maybe you want to join our journey?” Paimon asked.

“Maybe… I am not too sure yet. I’m still trying to process everything” you smiled sheepishly.

Lumine nodded. “Understandable. We are gonna stay here in Mondstadt for a while before we go to Liyue.”

Your conversation with Lumine and Paimon was pleasant. Paimon had a lot to say and her eagerness was quite adorable. After a while you and Venti bid them goodbye as you headed two a boutique in search of some new clothes for you.

The boutique’s interior was pink and rather feminine. The walls were cowered in murals of pink flowerbeds. The owner was a sweet young woman who was quick to help you find something that suited you.

You ended up with a couple of different outfits and some underwear. You thanked Venti for his generosity. The bard only smiled gently. His eyes brimming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

As the blue sky turned a pinkish colour you ventured up to the cathedral. The building was massive and you felt at its mercy as it towered over the city. In front of the cathedral stood a statue of Barbatos. The statue was tall and made of marble. It was clad in robes and it had large wings on its back. His hands stretched out in a form of prayer. He had two twin braided on the said of his head. You admired the statue for a while. It looked familiar. There was no doubt about it. It looked an awfully a lot like Venti. You turned to look at the bard which was staring out at the city. He was lost in thought and did not notice your staring.

“This statue is really beautiful” you said as you gazed up at its face.

Venti turned to face you. “Yeah… The sculptures did an excellent job.”

“The same goes for the cathedral. Its architecture is absolutely breathtaking. Do you often attended services in the cathedral?” you ask the dark haired man.

“I agree. The craftsman is extremely impressive”. He shook his head “I usually don’t, but I sometimes swing by. The organists are really talented.”

“I want to attend a service some time. Just to see how it is” you gazed up at the looming building.

“We can go together sometime” he looked at you softly.

The soft bed was welcoming after all you walking. You pulled the duvet over your shoulder as you burrowed your face into the pillow. Venti had insisted on you staying as long as you needed. He would take you to the Adventures Guild tomorrow in search of some jobs you could do in order to earn some Mora.

Sleep wrapped you in its warm embrace and you feel into a deep slumber. This time your dream was filled with cyan coloured eyes and white feathers.

[draconicred]

Experiences in the Alterhuman Community (and Beyond) as a Fictive

It's a weird experience being a fictional character, especially dealing with fandom, the fact that your source is fictional, and interactions with people based on that--including some of the dehumanisation that's so common toward fictionfolk. I'm gonna go into that here because I need somwhere to collect my thoughts, so this might get long. I'll be talking about my experiences as a fictive, but this could very well apply to anyone who identifies as a fictional being--fictionkin, fictionlinkers, etc.

So, I see the version of me on the screen as an AU version of me, in short. I mean, I'm me, and I don't think I even looked exactly 1:1 with my canon self--so naturally, even though events line up pretty closely, I see my source as... Almost like a fanfic of my life? Like sure, that's decidedly me, and decidedly a lot of the things that happened to me and my friends, but also not me. I'm not that guy on the screen, he's what represents me.

Even though I fully believe I got here by dying in a literal past life, my source media here is absolutely fictional to me and I just... Don't look at it in really any other way. Which I guess makes sense if you put it into my perspective--what else would it be? It really is like reading a fanfic based on your life though, or reading an article about yourself in the news. A bit of a shock, a bit of "why did they include THAT?" sprinkled in here and there, a bit awkward sometimes, and it does tend to resurface bad feelings. But overall, it's not that personal to me. I'm largely fine with it existing.

On the other hand, what is shocking is that people see me as fictional. I'm a fictional introject, from a fictional source, from the perspectives of a lot of people here. But I look at my source and I go well... Yeah, that's fiction of course, but my life is an actual thing that happened to me. Realistically I know that not everyone has spiritual beliefs and not everyone even accepts fictional identities as something "real", but man is it weird to just... Have it be spun in such a way?

I'm used to being in the media, I'm used to having cameras on me and being in the public eye. I'm used to articles and stories and posts on the internet. I'm used to fans even! But this isn't your regular, run-of-the-mill experience of people wanting to know you because you're a hero. This is people who see your life and experiences as a fun story they saw in a book or on TV, coming up to you with the idea that you're their favourite character, and not... A whole entire person. It's so damn weird.

There's still that level of disrespect that comes from people who are a little parasocial with you, but it almost hits deeper here because a lot of the time, you know they're not seeing a hero or the things you've literally done in your memories. They're seeing that guy on the screen they think is cool, and while he represents you, he's not you. And they're treating you like a celebrity because of that weird fanfic version of you on the TV or in that book.

There's usually little acknowledgement of your life or experiences as "real". When you're presenting as your fictional identity around others, you tend to get put into one of a few camps:

Cool Character from Media who I love and adore and want to talk to (and will probably get fanperson excited about it). I will probably get dispraportionally upset if Character tells me to back off a bit because I don't want my blorbo to be mad at me.

Character from Media I'm in love with and will immediately start asking invasive questions to or outright flirting with. Could get real gross real quick.

Problematic Character or Guy From Problematic Media that I instantly dislike because that's so Problematic how dare you show your face. I'm reporting you for being Character, you should change your identity if you want to exist so bad.

Character from Media who is disabled/queer/mentally ill/has any soft personality trait ever and I will now be treating you like a sweet little babyboy cinnamon roll who could not hurt a fly.

Person who identifies as Character? How interesting! I'm going to really pry and question everything from your actions in-source (to get unique perspectives from Character) and question literally everything else. Because this is Science and I'll get mad if you don't tell me everything, you need to tell me everything or you're rude.

Of course there's nuance and there's absolutely times where you'll be treated as a normal person, but the above are... So damn common. I've been here for a few months and I've already had some weird stuff happen to me simply because I'm Kirishima and people feel entitled to give me cutesy nicknames or whatever. Even without knowing me or my system at all beforehand. It's just.. So different from anything I've experienced before? Being treated like a celebrity is dehumanising enough, but being treated like a character.ai bot or just generally a form of free entertainment and not a person is so perplexing to me.

There's also that if you're from a popular source, you see stuff about yourself everywhere. Posters, plushies, advertisements, posts on social media--all of it. Some of that I'm used to already, but it's kind of weird when you're mentally aware that this is all for that twisted-mirror version of yourself and not you. And if you get a little uncomfortable at some fanart showing up out of the blue, or someone making a source related joke... You're kind of just expected to brush it off. Which yeah, I get it! It's about the source, not me, but it's still just... A weird feeling. A feeling of not being allowed to be upset because it's about the source and not literal you.

I think there needs to be a line, maybe. Not saying that fictives should be putting a stop to any media or fandom ever, just.. That maybe respect toward us for being uncomfortable with fan content due to being a fictive or fictionkin should be more normalised. It should be more okay to say "hey, I'm Character, please don't joke like that" to a friend, or "don't send me fanart of this thing, I'm Character and that's weird"--which it normally is! But there does tend to be a sort of layer of "Oh, it's because you're Character. You know that's not you, right? You shouldn't be upset, you need to source separate more."--when if most other people were to set a boundary like that, it would usually be respected. Source separation can be great, but if someone hasn't separated or doesn't want to, why is it okay to still send them material they're uncomfortable with--or at least, why do people tend to argue that the fictive should "just separate from source" instead? It... Just boils down to alterhumisia toward fictionfolk, honestly. It sucks.

There's a lot of problems with basic respect toward fictionfolk of all kinds--hell, even in the alterhuman community where it's meant to be safe. I don't know if this rant is entirely coherent or not, I don't know if there's anything noteworthy to take from it--but if you do take something from it, let it be that fictionfolk want to be treated like people. Source separated, not source separated, canon divergent or compliant, hearted, linker, 'kin or 'tive--we're people. Don't let our identities change the way you instinctually treat us. Let us be openly us, and treat us as you would anyone else.

[gh7stly]

EPILOGUE — poly 141 x immortal gn!reader

<not proofread or anything, been sitting in my draft for the longest time! i hope someone'll enjoy>

The blood that painted your body itches, you noticed. It irked you, really, so the idea of spending one more hour on the same clothes you had on when you left for this mission was a torture by itself. As the helicopter shook one last time while landing, you immediately started making your way to the community bathroom, ignoring every greetings of other soldiers, previous mission partners and privates in the way. Muppets. 

“I thought the military taught basic etiquette, soldier. Been looking forward to making it home?” A voice not so strange called after you, slowly turning around as if scared to scare it away, Kate Laswell enters your vision. “Happy?”

You make a false discontent face. “Last time I saw your face I had 7 less lives in my hand, happiness is not the right feeling…. More like a bad omen?”

“I’m glad You're here and alive, then. You even taken a bath yet? There's subjects to be taken care of and I need you available as soon as possible, and, yes, I'm making the proposal again”, you take notice of how she avoided the responsibility and somehow proved your “bad omen” point, Kate's proposal didn't mean good things to come. “This is not the place to talk about it, Spook, but it is the right time. We need y-”

You bark out a laugh. “Fuck no, Laswell”, patting her on the shoulder, you turn around and start walking. “Coronel is not agreeing, plus, I have no interest in your suicide inhibitions against the US. Give up!”

“Spook. The time is running out. You know why you'd be the most important thin-”

“Thing?” 

Laswell makes a disapproving sound from getting interrupted again. Aware of the sudden seriousness of the moment, she grabs your arm to go further into the corridor away from the crowds and recruits.

“You are not a 14 year old girl, Spook. You are a soldier, a soldier responding to one of the biggest special forces in the world, and you have the ability of doing what I could only wish to do”, she stopped walking abruptly and stared down into your soul, this discussion is your least favorite one to have. “You can fuck up. Has this not internalized into you yet? Dead boys are sent to their mamas everyday for a tiny mistake but you have the ability of throwing it all into the air and walking away unharmed, so why not use who you are for the better cause? We need you”

Her words punctuated your gut, your frustrations boiled up deep in your stomach and revealed itself by the shaking in your hands; they've gotten worse recently, you've come to notice. There wasn't much to do about it except put them into fists and dig your nails deep into the palm of your hand until it made you grounded enough to find your voice, stuck in the back of your throat. This subject, this proposal and its implications had enough force to make you crumble easily, Laswell of course knew nothing about it – just that you were stubborn and kept refusing. 

“I am here because you asked me to make you useful, because you wanted to help. I know you're a human, Spook, but you're in the military and not a playground. What you want is not what you're getting sometimes, not because you don't matter, but because you are a useful trick we could have up our sleeve. So I'm going to ask you again, are you going to fucking help or not?

Staying in silence, you bit your tongue to stop from getting an insubordination letter. Part of you, the human part you guessed, felt talked down still. Did you ask for this life? Who made you this way? Wanting to help didn't mean killing yourself on purpose on missions, didn't mean getting used by superiors like an unbreakable toy. You're here because you wanted to be a hero, but right now, you're afraid of having more blood on yourself than the villains.

The other part, the freak one as you called, knew that that's exactly what you were. A puppet. From the moment you joined the military, it was better to devoid yourself from feelings, needs, or any basic thought. You liked it, even. Getting pushed to the limits of morality, treated like a piece of a big chess match. A cold air passed through you both until you finally had swallowed enough ego to speak.

“Let me at least change clothes and then you can go through your little plan." That was the closest thing to a yes you could've gotten before puking bile, but it was enough for her.

“Thank you, Spook. 1700 sharp” nodding, you let out a sigh you weren't aware of holding.

“You're a bad omen, Laswell. After today, I hope it'll be a long time until we meet again.” Even with the harsh words, a project of a smile showed in your face. Kate Laswell was probably the closest thing to a mom you'll ever have in your life. “I agree.”

[jellofish-plant]

Shadows and Smoke

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Master List

Summary: Jason’s mission takes a dangerous turn as he finds himself face-to-face with Gotham’s underbelly once more. Meanwhile, you’re left waiting on the rooftop, grappling with the quiet worry that comes from loving someone who’s always walking the line between shadows and smoke. When Jason returns, bruised but alive, the bond between you deepens as words unspoken linger in the chill of the night air.

Warnings:

References to violence (Jason confronting a gang).

Mild language.

Mentions of Jason’s protective nature and underlying emotional struggles.

Gotham’s usual grittiness and crime-related atmosphere.

Author’s Note: Hi again, lovely readers! 🖤 I’m so excited to share Part Two of Shadows and Smoke. If you’re new here, welcome! This blog is a safe space for everyone.

prev || next

The rooftop was quiet again, save for the distant sounds of Gotham below. You paced to keep warm, your coat pulled tight around you as you glanced at the alley Jason had disappeared into. He hadn’t been gone long, but long enough for worry to creep into your chest.

You hated this part the waiting.

Jason was reckless; it was one of the things you admire about him, but it also made nights like this unbearable. You trusted his skills, his instincts, but Gotham wasn’t kind to heroes or anti-heroes, in Jason’s case.

A loud crash from the alley snapped you out of your thoughts. Without thinking, you rushed to the edge of the rooftop, peering down.

"Jason?" you called softly, trying to spot his familiar figure among the shadows.

A few tense moments passed before you saw him, stepping out from the shadows with his helmet under one arm and a grim look on his face.

You sighed in relief. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think I’d have to come down there and save you."

Jason looked up, and despite the distance, you caught the faintest smirk. "You? Save me? That’s cute."

"Keep talking, and I’ll let the next thug knock you out," you shot back, but the teasing in your voice couldn’t hide your relief.

He scaled the fire escape with practiced ease, landing beside you in a smooth motion. Up close, you could see the blood on his knuckles and the dirt smeared across his jacket.

"Rough night?" you asked, nodding toward his hands.

Jason shrugged, wiping his knuckles on a rag he pulled from his pocket. "Nothing I couldn’t handle."

You gave him a look, one that said you weren’t buying his nonchalance. Jason had a habit of downplaying things, especially when he didn’t want you to worry.

"Did you get what you were after?"

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Some low-level thug running guns for Black Mask. Not the jackpot, but enough to keep him on edge."

"Good," you said, your tone firm. "Now maybe you can take a break before someone breaks you."

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "You sound like Alfred."

"Maybe Alfred’s got the right idea," you shot back. "You’re not exactly indestructible, you know."

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw the look on your face. With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck, his bravado fading.

"I’m fine, okay?" he said, his voice softer now. "You don’t have to worry so much."

"That’s rich coming from you," you muttered, crossing your arms. "You act like you’re the only one allowed to care."

Jason froze, your words cutting through his usual defenses. He looked at you then, really looked at you, his blue eyes searching yours.

"You care too much," he said quietly, almost like it was a bad thing.

"And you don’t care enough," you shot back, stepping closer. "But that’s why we work, isn’t it? I keep you grounded, and you... well, you drive me crazy."

Jason laughed, a real one this time, and it made your chest warm despite the cold night. He reached out, his hand brushing yours before he intertwined your fingers.

"I guess we do balance each other out," he admitted, his voice tinged with something softer. "You’re the only one who puts up with me, anyway."

You squeezed his hand, your thumb brushing against the rough edges of his gloves. "I’m not going anywhere, Jason. But maybe let me take care of you for once, okay?"

Jason hesitated, his walls wavering for a brief moment before he nodded. "Okay. But don’t think this means I’m going soft."

You grinned. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

As the two of you stood there, hand in hand, Gotham’s chaos seemed a little less overwhelming. For all its shadows, there was still a flicker of light and for Jason, that light was you.

[sqrkyclean]

ok heres the first quarter of it

Dissociative amnesia.

That’s what his therapist had said. Dissociative amnesia. Something about complex ptsd and adaptive survival methods.

It had taken years for Timmy Turner to eventually agree to seeing a therapist at all. There had been a lot more stigma around the idea back in the day— that it was something only crazy people needed to do. And he wasn’t crazy, he just…

Dissociative amnesia. 

Derealization. 

Complex PTSD.

There were all these new buzzwords in his head. They were supposed to mean something, supposed to mean that there was hope for him to get better, to feel… different from the way the last twenty years had felt. 

“And how have the last twenty years felt, Tim?”

His therapist, a younger-than-him blonde woman, fresh out of college. She always liked using his name, and she always had this… oddly casual way about her. She was the fifth therapist he had tried talking to, and honestly, it was going better than it had gone with any of the quacks he had seen before her. 

“Like… It’s… y’know the feeling when you’re watching a movie, and you recognize an actor, but you can't remember his name? Like, you know you’ve seen the guy before, but you can’t put… words to it. And no matter how hard you try to focus, it feels like it keeps getting further away?”

He made illustrative hand gestures, unable to look her in the eye as he rambled. 

“I’m… familiar,” she nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”

“It’s kinda like that, but— but that’s what it feels like whenever I try to think about where my life is supposed to be going. What I’m supposed to be doing,” Tim gestured vaguely. “Like there’s this big piece of everything that I can’t quite…”

He sighed, leaning back on the sofa. As much as he liked her as a therapist, her office layout was awkward. She would sit at her desk with her back to the laptop placed on top of it, facing towards the sofa. It made everything feel… lopsided.

“That makes sense,” she nodded, resting her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward. “You went through a lot of traumatic stuff as a kid. A lot of the time, when we spend so long in survival mode, once we get out of those situations it feels like you either need to keep being in fight-or-flight, or you end up kind of… listless.”

“Listless,” Timmy nodded. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

“Do you ever feel like… the opposite of that?” She tilted her head at him. “Like you know exactly what you want, and exactly how to get it.”

Timmy opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then it just… fizzled out. “I—... I don’t… know.”

“What did you do as a kid that made you feel better when you felt out of place? I know your parents weren’t really an option.”

He tried to remember. He really, honestly did. There was that almost-memory sensation again, and then it was like it was swallowed up into the darkest corner of his mind.

Whenever he thought about this stuff, his head always went kind of… echoey. 

The synapses just wouldn’t connect, like a cord had been severed. Like he was going to sneeze but his body wouldn’t let him. Like his vision wouldn’t adjust. 

The silence was deafening. The absence of the memories that should have been there felt larger than anything real that he had left. 

“I’d… hang out with my friends? But then something… happened. I don’t know. I stopped seeing them, stopped hanging out with them. I guess it happened around the time I started 5th grade… A couple new kids joined my class halfway through the semester and…”

No, that wasn’t right. Was it? 

“You don’t have to remember all the details,” his therapist assured him, giving him a genuinely sympathetic smile. “What about now? Do you have any friends you can hang out with that might be able to give you some ideas?”

—

Remy Buxaplenty was doing pretty well, all things considered. His parents passed away and left him… everything. And he hadn’t run the family name into the ground yet, so that was nice.

does anybody wanna read my work in progress fairly oddparents fanfiction. its G rated and gen and about timmy coping with his lost memory as a 35 year old in therapy.

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[m0e-ru]

it sucks that p4's final antagonist had to be a woman. it sucks that p4's final antagonist had to be trans. it sucks that p4's final antagonist had to have an ambiguous gender identity. it sucks that p4's final antagonist had to be inhuman. it sucks.

[callioclops]

Woah, a pinned post

Figured I may as well start using Tumblr as an actual blog rather than a promotional tool for streaming that I no longer do and letting it just sit here and occasionally reblog something funny from my friends, so I'm making a introduction post.

Hi, I'm Calliope or Callie for short. I'm an autistic trans woman and I use she/her. My primary interests include structural analysis of TV and anime, and getting way too deep into the mechanics of various video games inevitably resulting in an attempt to flawlessly optimise whatever it is I'm meant to be doing. As you can imagine this draws me to roguelikes a lot, but also fighting games, RPGs, etc.

If you fall under any of these groups kindly fuck off: Homophobes, TERFs and other transphobes, and honestly just as a general catch-all if you harbour a hatred for any group of people for no reason besides their appearance or the way they refer to themselves.

Quick pre-emptive Q&A:

Why do you have anon asks turned off? - Simple answer is that I don't want anon hate. I think if you want to be mean to someone online you can at least have the courage to stand by what you said without hiding behind a circle with sunglasses. If you want to send an ask but don't want it to be public that it's you, put "[/p]" somewhere in the ask. If you aren't being hateful I'll respect your want to be anonymous. Obviously I'll still know but that's the best I can give.

What TV shows/anime do you usually talk about? - That's very dependant on what I'm watching at any given time. I'll try to keep this up to date (no promises) with what I'm currently interested in. At the time of writing (23/12/23) the two main ones are Rick & Morty and My Hero Academia. These two specifically I have heard are a turn off for a lot of people due to the fandoms, personally I don't really interact in that space.

What posts can I expect? - Probably not that many in all honesty. I'm writing this at 11pm and it's entirely possible that I'll just forget about this for weeks on end. But if I am to post it will likely be short rants about any of the above mentioned media. Either talks about specific episodes of a show or mechanical intricacies of video games. I like to imagine that it will be educational in a way that is completely incomprehensible in an academic capacity.

Why a cyclops? - Initially, I was attempting to 'transition' my online persona at the same time as I was transitioning in real life and wanted a pun or portmanteau based on my new name. Callioclops was the only one I could think of and I stuck with it. Over time though it really grew on me, I had design ideas for an icon (Thanks to @caeruluspirit for the profile image), I really just became engrossed in cyclopes and monocular creatures in general. I think part of this fascination also stems from an irl friend who has depth perception issues and once tried to explain it to me by saying "The sky is in front of the trees." I've been thining about that every so often ever since.

So yeah, I'm going to try and be a bit more active on here. Share a piece of my autism with a wider audience. If that interests you stick around, if not then by all means keep on moving.

[waybrightgender]

google how to get someone to stop reading about crypto and using degenerate

[fingertipsmp3]

Sometimes I really need to keep my mouth shut

[arminsumi]

ADULT STORE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."

1.5k words

Pt. 2

Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)

Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈

Playme : wanna know what it's like?

The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.

The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.

"Yo."

Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.

He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.

"Ah, h-hello..."

He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.

"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.

"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."

Yeah, that's what I thought.

He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.

"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"

His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."

Aw, of course.

"M'kay... then let me assist you."

He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.

"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"

"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.

I know exactly what she needs...

"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."

His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.

Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.

"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"

Aw, she's flustered.

"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."

Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.

"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."

There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.

He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.

"This one's got ten functions—"

"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."

"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."

The two of you share a long look, then laugh.

"But it really is an excellent product."

"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.

"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."

I could make her squirt.

He's running his eyes up and down your body.

"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.

"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."

He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.

"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.

A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.

Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...

He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.

"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.

You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.

He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.

"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.

"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.

He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.

"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."

"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."

Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.

His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."

After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.

He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.

He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.

"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."

He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.

"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?

"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"

"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"

He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.

Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.

He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.

She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.

You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.

"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.

You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.

"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."

"Fuck, okay."

And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.

"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.

Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.

His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.

This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.

"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.

Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.

"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."

And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.

Please cum on my face. Please please please.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"

You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.

He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.

"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"

Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 | eddie munson x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | based on a request from the lovely @ultraintrovertedgryffindor ; getting stuck in an elevator with his best friend (and secret crush) was absolutely not on eddie's morning agenda, but it leads to one of his most wild fantasies coming to life.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 3.8k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT (18+ only!! semi-public sex, oral m receiving, kinda pervy eddie but also slightly pervy reader with a balls fixation gee I wonder where that idea came from), best friends to lovers (but very very limited plot haha), pretty much exactly what it says on the tin y'all not sure what to say

Eddie laughed as he pressed his hands to the elevator doors, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement— it was exasperation, frustration, an is this really happening? laugh.

"Soonest we can get a crew out there is uhh... noon?" the voice on the emergency phone informed you.

"Noon?!" you yelped. "It's not even half past eight!"

"What did I tell ya?" Eddie recalled, hanging his head in defeat for a second. "Nothing good happens before ten."

"Just try to stay calm and we'll be there when we can," the operator suggested, like it was so simple.

You didn't even reply to that, just scoffed and hung up.

It wasn't like he'd been looking forward to his GED exam, in fact he'd almost been hoping for a way to put it off or get out of it... but this was definitely not what he was imagining. Of all the elevators to get stuck in, this generic government building where he was supposed to have his big test proctored was probably the most boring option.

He glanced over at you, and stopped himself from making a dirty joke: you heard that Aerosmith single, right? Love In An Elevator?

That probably wouldn't have gone over well. He used to say stuff like that when you were both a little younger, but he'd since given up hope of it ever actually... inspiring anything.  You two were probably better off as friends anyways; or, that’s what he told himself to make it sting a little less.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck in here for a while…” he mumbled instead.  “Did they say what the issue is?”

“Some kind of power failure?” you recalled with a shrug.  “It’s gonna take a while to fix, that’s the important thing.  Do you think they’ll call the fire department?”

“Who knows,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the wall as you sank onto the floor and dropped your head back against the wall.  “I guess we should just try to get comfortable.”

Which was easier said than done, but at least he was stuck here with you— you were generally pretty fun to talk to.  Of course, you weren’t exactly in your best mood due to the circumstances…

At 8:32, Eddie checked his watch.  “I’m officially late for my exam,” he noticed.

At 9, you checked your own; “And I’m officially late for work.  We'll see if I even still have a job when we get out of here," you groaned. "I was on pretty thin ice already."

By 9:14, the stuffiness of the elevator was becoming harder to ignore.  Eddie slipped off his jacket and vest in response to the heat, but resisted the urge to take off his Ozzy shirt. You'd seen him shirtless before, of course, but he figured out would be weirder without the right context.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," you whined quietly.

"I guess the power issue affects the A/C, huh," Eddie noticed.

"You think?" you scoffed, reaching up to unbutton the top of your shirt.

For some reason, he kinda liked when you were condescending like that; of course he loved it when you were sweet like usual, but when you got frustrated and sarcastic and looked at him like he was crazy... for whatever reason, it worked for him. And it was definitely working like never before when combined with your hasty efforts to open your shirt.

He expected you to stop after a couple buttons, but you just kept going, exposing more and more of your chest glistening with sweat. His eyes were glued to it, until you got low enough for him to see a glimpse of your bra, and he coughed as he turned his head quickly.

"Woah, hey, uh--" he stammered out awkwardly.

"Oh whatever, you've seen me in a bikini, it's the same thing," you rolled your eyes.

But it's not the same thing, because you were stripping, untucking the button-up from your tight skirt, fanning your flushed skin...

And he was tugging the crotch of his jeans down a bit when you weren't looking, trying to keep his oncoming boner from being too obvious. 

Leaving your shirt open, you sighed and sat down on the floor, splaying your legs out on the ground.  He could see how uncomfortable you were, and it made him press his lips together while he sighed through his nose.  Though he was a little afraid you weren’t in the mood for any friendly behavior as your frustration and stir-craziness increased, he walked across the elevator and sat down next to you.  “I was probably gonna flunk the test,” he decided.

“What?  No you weren’t,” you scoffed.  “You studied so hard!  I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Just ‘cause we’re stuck in here doesn’t mean you should get all sappy with me—” he started.

“No— ‘cause we’re stuck in here I’m not gonna put up with you trying to be down on yourself,” you decided sternly with a little glare at him.  “You were gonna fucking ace it, I know you were.  You worked your ass off.  I know you wanted to act like you didn’t care, but you actually got your shit together and did it.”

“You… you helped me a lot,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Please, I hardly did anything— mostly just kept you from getting too distracted,” you denied, blissfully unaware that he actually found you more distracting sometimes, but never minded it.  “Can you stop being a pussy and just admit you’re actually smart, and dedicated, and more than capable of nailing this?”

He blinked quickly and looked down into his lap, feeling his face warm up— not just from the heat.  How could you be so mean and nice at the same time?  

“And now it’s gonna go to waste, ‘cause of this godforsaken elevator,” you sighed, dropping your head back; a pessimistic end to a pep talk, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Think of it this way: it couldn't get any worse!" Eddie offered with a faux-upbeat tone.

Right then, the lights in the elevator flickered and turned off, plunging you both into darkness. "I fucking hate you," you announced after a short silence.

He heard a whirring sound from somewhere else in the shaft, and a dimmer orange lighting came on inside the elevator; some kind of emergency back-up generator thing, probably. It was enough to see decently well, especially as his eyes started to adjust, but still made it feel like you were both in an even more perilous situation.

“I didn’t sleep enough last night,” you admitted, “I might try to catch up on that.  Maybe if I can sleep this will go by faster…”

“I like that plan,” he decided, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do the same.  Eddie had a hard time keeping still and quiet, but he managed to do it so you could get your rest.

He suspected you had fallen asleep when your breathing seemed to slow down a bit— but he knew you had when you limply slumped to the side, your head gently landing on his shoulder.  This happened every once in a while, a sign of how comfortable you were with him. He supposed he should be thankful for it, but sometimes it just made him furious. Because what cruel punishment was this, to have you lay on him like this when he can't put his arm around you and kiss your head and tell you how perfect you are?

The half-boner he’d wound up with earlier when you unbuttoned your shirt had never really gone away, and it noticed your proximity with renewed interest.  Maybe it was just because he was so bored with literally nothing to do but think about you, but his mind kept coming up with all these fucked up ideas based on the eyeful he’d gotten.  

What if you’d taken off your bra as well and let him see the tits he’d been fantasizing about for longer than he cared to admit?  What if this had happened in winter instead and the elevator was brutally cold and you two had to hold your naked bodies together for warmth?  What if that guy on the phone said this thing was airtight and two only had an hour to live and you decided you wanted to go out with a bang, literally?  

He wondered if he’d be brave enough to tell you how he felt about you, if either or both of you only had an hour left.  For better or for worse, this elevator shaft had airflow, so you were more likely to die of boredom than anything.

He shifted slightly, stuck in a somewhat awkward position, but it didn't help much— though thankfully it didn't wake you up, either.  He just wished he could get some relief, somehow.

Obviously, he knew it was a bad idea. But the thing about his dick is it usually talked him into some pretty bad ideas…

He tested the waters with a whisper of your name, but you just kept breathing slowly— you were out cold. Maybe you were even more nervous for him than you'd let on, if you were that underslept.

Reaching up with his free hand, all he had to do was grip himself through his jeans to get some relief; he sighed through his nose, shutting his eyes.

His cock flexed impatiently as he unzipped the jeans as slowly as possible to avoid making too much sound. But god was it worth the wait— as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers he had to bite his lip, it was so good just to get some attention for his poor, lonely dick.

This was far from the first time Eddie had jerked off to the thought of you. But he was sure he'd never done it while you were this close.

He did it once or twice in your bathroom while you were on the other side of the wall, that was probably the closest he'd come to this before. And that was chump change compared to this-- this was so risky it made his heart race and his hands shake with adrenaline, but it only made him more desperate for whatever reason.

He wouldn't have swiped his thumb through the precum at his slit if he had known how good it would feel— or maybe if he'd known how good it would feel, he would've been able to prepare himself for it. But the anxiety of getting caught had made him even more sensitive, so he hadn't really seen it coming, and when he did it he let out a little moan through his teeth that he couldn't stop.

You stirred again and he froze; when you lifted your head off of his shoulder, he hastily shoved himself back into his jeans, trying to cover up the open fly with the bottom of his shirt.

“Were you… jerking off?” you realized, and he felt sick with fear as his heart raced like never before.

“W-what?” he scoffed incredulously.  “I— are you crazy?”

“Ed,” you warned firmly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I— sorry—”

“Are you that bored?” you mocked with a snort, and he felt even more flushed; it made his cock flex under the mediocre covering of his shirt when you degraded him like that.

“N-no— well, yeah, I just— you put your head on me and I—”

“It was because of me?” you realized, and his mouth fell open.  He hadn’t realized that you hadn’t actually put that together yet; of course he’d ended up just digging himself deeper.

“W-well, uh— I mean, no, no I— well.  Kind of?”

“Kind of, as in…”

“Completely,” he blurted out.

You were quiet for a long time, and he couldn’t see your face well enough to even try to guess what you were thinking.  Although you probably could’ve given him a thousand guesses and he never would’ve guessed what you ended up saying: “You want some help with that?” you offered.

But before he could even answer— not that he really could, he was too busy having a short circuit in his brain— you were reaching for his lap.  And even if his mind was blown, his body knew to just lift his hands up and out of the way and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

You pulled up the bottom of his shirt and sighed a little when you saw his cock, still hard and leaking and curled up against his stomach.  You carefully wrapped your hand around it, and he swallowed thickly, wondering if he was dreaming or something— you were so… soft.

“Like this?” you asked gently, making his hips twitch up into your hand for a second.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, eyes glued to the way your hand looked wrapped around him.  If only the lights weren’t out, he wanted to see it even better.

He looked at your face, moving your hair a little to make sure he could see you, but from what he could tell your eyes were trained on his lap.

“Fuuuck,” he whispered when you stroked him a bit more confidently.  He wanted to shut his eyes from how good it felt, but he didn’t want to look away from a moment of this in case you, you know, came to your senses and stopped.

“S’really thick,” you said, under your breath, a little bit shyly.  He groaned and ran his hand over your back, trying not to do too much in case it startled you but also totally helpless to how badly he needed you.  “I wonder if I can…”

You trailed off, and before he could decide if he should ask what you were going to say, you 

As soon as you leaned down and put your mouth around him, his back arched and his legs kicked a bit.  “Fuck, baby,” he choked out, melting into the warm feeling of your lips, your tongue— god, he couldn’t believe you were doing this to him.  He actually had to fight the urge to tell you so, to admit how much he’d imagined this; he settled for whining out your name and running a hand over your hair encouragingly.  “S’fucking warm, oh my god—”

You hummed around him, sucking a bit harder, swirling your tongue around the tip; who the fuck taught you that?  It made his chest burn with some targetless jealousy even while it made his cock flex proudly. 

Your hand still gripping the base, you took him a little bit deeper, moaning a little bit once again while you did it.  No way you actually enjoyed this, right?

You pulled your head up a bit— he took his hand away quickly, not trying to hold you down or anything— and just when he wondered if you might stop, you dropped down lower so you could run your tongue up from the very bottom all the way to his leaking slit—

“Jesus,” he laughed thinly, “what are you doing to me, baby?”

“Whatever I wanna do,” you replied— if he was a little braver, he would’ve asked what made you want this, how long you wanted this— but he was more than content to let you do whatever you wanted, so far you had some pretty fucking good ideas.

Your head sank even a little bit lower, and he pushed his jeans down just a bit in case they were getting in your way.  Boy, was he glad he did.  “Fuck,” he gasped, watching in shock as you looked up at him while your tongue ran over his balls.  “Sorry, they’re, uh, kinda sweaty…”

“Even better,” you purred; what the fuck were you doing acting so dirty like that?

“Baby,” he laughed thinly, “is this some kind of claustrophobia-induced psychosis or something?  Who are you and what have you done with my prude best friend?”

“Prude?  That’s unfair,” you laughed.  “Just ‘cause I don’t advertise every dirty thought that goes through my mind doesn’t mean I’m not as much of a freak as you…”

“Freak is an understatement,” he sighed, struggling to keep his voice even when he was literally watching you lick all over his balls like this.  “You’re a proper fucking slut.”

You hummed proudly, eyes getting a little heavier— when you looked up at him like that, he was totally helpless.  “It’s slutty to wanna taste your best friend’s balls?”

“F-fuck, of course it is,” he whined, cock flexing in your hand again when you licked a stripe up between then.

“Well then yeah, guess I’m a slut,” you agreed. 

“G-god, I— I’m gonna—” he tried to warn you, but it happened so fast— it happened the second you started to gently suck on his balls, in fact.  What was he supposed to do when you did that?!  How could he not shoot cum all over his now-definitely-ruined shirt?

“Oh shit,” you giggled— his cock was still flexing and you were already mocking him.

“What— what the fuck,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “made you wanna do that?”

But you were already straddling his lap, pulling up your skirt to your waist.

“F-fuck, baby, I— are you seriously—?”

He cut himself off and whimpered when he got a good look at your panties, the cute lacy kind— and pretty fucking soaked already.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he warned you, cursing himself inside for finally throwing out the one in his wallet thinking he would never end up needing it.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, pulling your panties aside and guiding his tip right up to your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s—”

He was gonna say it was insanely hot, but you hardly noticed; you were already sliding down onto him, taking him in one motion right to the base.

“Oh fuck!” he nearly shouted, gripping hard onto your thighs.  “F-fuck, you’re so tight, fuck…”

You started moving right away, grinding on top of him for a second before lifting your hips and bouncing up and down.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “so deep…”

Was it wrong that he loved the way you were basically just using him?  You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence, you didn’t ask if he could handle it right after coming— you just started riding him, and far be it from him to complain about that.

“Take this off,” he pleaded, tugging at your unbuttoned shirt and trying to push it off your shoulders.

You helped him get it off, and before you’d even tossed it off to the side he was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.  The gods of bra clasps smiled down upon him that day, because he was sure he’d never gotten one open so quickly, and if there was any time he really needed it, it was now.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he got a good look at them— not good enough in this dim orange lighting, but it would do— and instantly got a hold of your chest.  You didn’t seem to mind the clammy hands, considering the way you whimpered a little and clenched inside around him.  “God, baby, your tits…”

As much as he’d been waiting ages for a chance to see you naked, he couldn’t deny you looked way too good with the skirt, stockings, and heels still on.  He could already tell this was going to give him a complex.

He ran a hand up your leg as you moved just to feel the silky nylon; god, he hoped you didn’t get fired for the unexplained extreme lateness, if not just for your sake then so that you would keep dressing like this every day.  “So pretty,” he sighed, wondering if you could see in the dark how totally in awe he was of you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, in that way he’d always imagined you would in a time like this.  Your head fell back and he couldn’t help but reach up and grab your neck— not applying much pressure, just holding you there, just admiring how goddamn perfect his hand looked wrapped around you.  

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Eddie sighed, “fuck, look at you go.”

You smiled a little, he could see it even with your head tilted back like that, and it was just amazing seeing you so… free?  So relaxed and totally shameless, giving in to your pleasure.  But it wasn’t enough: he wanted to see you lose all your composure, he wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted to make you shake and cry and beg— that was why he grabbed a tight hold of your hips and pulled you down onto him, bucking his hips up to meet you halfway.  It forced his cock even deeper and you yelped a little.

“Not too big for you, is it?” he taunted.

“No, fuck, s’perfect,” you moaned, your voice deep and rough and so fucking beautiful like this.  “Fuckin’ perfect, Ed, o-oh god—”

“Keep saying my name,” he ordered.

“Eddie,” you said, again, but this time all needy and cute; it just made him fuck you harder, biting down on his lip to muffle some of his own noises— he just wanted to hear you.  He pulled you down and hugged you close, keeping you still so he could fuck up into you exactly how he wanted; you moaned right by his ear, fuck it was too precious.  

“I’m already close again,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “Fuck, look what you do to me.”

You whined louder, clenching on his cock— he seriously did not know how much more of this he could take.

“Wanted you so bad,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, “wanted this for so long.  Wanted to fuck you— I wanna make you come, fuck, please, please come.”

He felt you nod against his shoulder as you gasped, and he shut his eyes tight, just focusing on his movements and trying his best not to speed up too much just to chase his own high.  He needed you to come more than he needed his own pleasure, even if everything in his body was screaming for a chance to come inside you. “So close,” you panted, “fuck, Eddie, don’t stop— please don’t stop— yes!”

The lights turning back on suddenly startled you both, making him freeze and look around (and squint a little from the brightness), but that was nothing compared to the shock of the doors opening.  Behind them was mostly just concrete, the space between floors, but up top was about two feet of the eighth level, where a crew of firefighters could be seen peering in.

“Are they alright?” someone from the building asked as Eddie scrambled to grab his jacket from the corner and cover you up with it.

“Yeah, looks like they’re doing just fine,” one of the men announced as they broke out in surprised laughter.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.