#reflections for your heart and soul

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.09

Frank's entrance.

[danmeichael]

getting a piercing from your partner is so crazy. "my body is permanently altered by your hand, there is a part of my flesh that will never be the same because of your influence" shut the hell up. that's love.

[yyoon5]

느루

@우리또한동물이다 via Postype.

[harmonyhealinghub]

All Souls' Day: A Time for Reflection and Remembrance Shaina Tranquilino November 2, 2023

Every year on November 2nd, people around the world come together to observe All Souls' Day. This solemn occasion is a significant part of the Christian tradition, particularly in Catholicism, where it serves as a day to remember and pray for the souls of departed loved ones.

Originating from ancient customs and beliefs, All Souls' Day has evolved over time to become a day of introspection and remembrance. It follows All Saints' Day, which honors all known and unknown saints recognized by the Church. While All Saints' Day celebrates those who have attained heaven, All Souls' Day focuses on those still undergoing purification before entering paradise.

The concept of purgatory plays an essential role during this observance. Purgatory is seen as a temporary state where souls are cleansed from their sins before they can fully enter God's presence. On All Souls' Day, Catholics believe that through prayer, they can assist these souls in their journey towards eternal salvation.

One of the most common practices on this day is visiting cemeteries to pay respects to deceased family members and friends. People often clean and decorate gravesites with flowers, candles, and personal mementos as a way to honor their loved ones. The atmosphere is permeated with a sense of reverence as individuals reflect upon memories shared with those who have passed away.

In addition to visiting cemeteries, attending special Masses dedicated to the departed is another significant aspect of All Souls' Day. During these services, prayers are offered specifically for those souls in purgatory. The intention behind these prayers is not only to help them but also to acknowledge our connection with them as members of the same spiritual family.

All Souls' Day reminds us of the importance of gratitude for life while acknowledging mortality's inevitability. It encourages reflection on our own actions and relationships – both past and present. This day prompts us to remember not only our loved ones who have passed away but also those we may have lost touch with, allowing us the opportunity to reconnect and heal any unresolved feelings.

In a world that often moves at an increasingly fast pace, All Souls' Day offers a moment of pause for introspection. It allows us to confront our emotions surrounding loss and mortality while reaffirming the bonds that transcend death. Through prayer and remembrance, we can find solace in knowing that the souls we hold dear are never truly gone from our lives.

While All Souls' Day holds religious significance for many, it also serves as a reminder of the universal human experience of grief and longing. Regardless of one's faith or belief system, this occasion provides an opportunity to honor the memories of loved ones and cherish the connections we share with them.

On this day, let us come together as a community – both locally and globally – to remember those who have left this earthly plane. May we find comfort in their continued presence within our hearts, and may their souls find eternal peace on their journey towards heaven.

[theskyexists]

Really wanna work on my multiplayer game idea again.... Hmmrrm.

[rosehearrt]

tag revamp pt. 3.

[unm4skd]

tag dump .

. face claim . › cloaked in shadow .

. open . › mutuals only .

. meta . › holding the name of warriors .

. character study . › a soul unshackled .

. npcs . › no followers ; only reflections .

. dash prompts . › unhollowed silence .

. about . › the tide knows your name .

. aesthetics . › silhouette's carved from dusk .

. musings . › surrendering to your own heart .

[starberry-cupcake]

not to talk about flow again, but the thing is, a lot of people talk about independent film making and its importance etc, but it's hard to get more independent than flow this year

not only because it was made with a free and open source software anyone can use, not only because it beat competitors from major studios with an average of 3% of the budget they had, not only because it represented a country that had never won an oscar before, not only because it didn't have any star power involved, not only because it didn't come from a filmmaker with past history, not only because it was made by a small team...

but also because it's an animated movie

animators often get the short end of the stick in the entertainment industry and, for the past years, it was starting to look as if the only way to make an animated project happen was to sell your soul to a major studio and see your work transformed into what they need and how they want it marketed

especially for movies from outside the US, from non-English speaking countries, where insanely talented animators tend to be used as freelance cheap labor for major US studios or have to adapt as much as possible to fit into their market in order to find work

passion projects for animation seemed to only be reserved to the shorts category, or needed to be as high brow as humanly possible to be perceived as "high art" to be valued and, even in the spaces of the industry dedicated to the genre, the way in which awards are distributed are a poor reflection of the vast work animators do

it's major for this film to win awards, let alone the oscar, an award which is notably judged badly for animation and often prefers the marketable easy way out of voting rather than genuine interest

this movie used a resource that is open to anyone and, with good storytelling, made an oscar winning film

in a world in which art is constantly being attacked by capitalist greed, I'm happy that a movie with heart and little resources could do something like this, whether or not people care about the oscars anymore

[mystiika]

adrian tag drop

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

[wickedzeevyln]

The Gift of Inner Peace

For the mighty tree of peace is deeply rooted within. Your thoughts seek the soothing sound away from the troubled world, for a time. Let the water stream in your mind’s galaxy dance like a whispered melody through the tranquil air. Each drop cascades in harmony, a soft percussion that lulls the senses into a state of peaceful serenity. The rhythmic flow creates a symphony of nature, a seamless…

[okwonyo]

I CRUMBLE COMPLETELY ꣑୧ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗋𝗒

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗉

𝟏𝟎𝟔𝟏𝒾──── enhypen 𝗑 f!rea ✿ comfort 𓂋 kissing skinship crying ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡ ⠀

𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

LEE HEESEUNG doesn’t know what got him out of his deep slumber yet. his head is still deep in the clouds when he scratches his eye open. he is confused when he hears muffled sounds coming from next to him but he is quick to distinguish his sweet girl’s sobs. it’s an heart-rending sight, sad yet beautiful, with the light of his nightstand’s lamp reflecting on your face and you tears-filled eyes widened at him. he can tell from the look on your face that you are too shaken by your nightmare to talk about it. he is quick to pull you in his embrace, your face buried in his broad chest, your fingers gripping onto his shirt as he lays the both of you down. his heartbeat goes faster as your tears fall onto his cloth and he can’t do anything else that give you a soft kiss ok the top of your head, holding you close.

PARK JONGSEONG “angel, c’mere,” he shushes you. you feel like a kid with your hand wiping your eyes, your tears falling on the back of your hand, your lips quivering. jay’s hand is wrapped around your free one. he pulls closer as you sniffle, unable to look up to look him in the face. he continues to drag you close to himself, your wobbly voice pulling his heart strings. he makes you sit on his laps in a smooth motion. you hide your face in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck. his hand strokes your back in the greatest hope of soothing your pain. “princess,” his voice is pleading. “look at me, please.” his chest is heavy with pain when you look up. he rubs your tigh with his thumb, “it’s okay, sweetheart,” he rests his forehead against yours, “i’m here.”

SIM JAEYUN feels his entire body getting weaker. when he steps into the kitchen to see you on the floor, head in your hands, sitting on the couch and shaking. his pulse rate goes so high, he can feel his heart beating in his head. he doesn’t think before rushing towards you, slightly in distress. his knees get fragile and he falls right in front of you. “my love,” he rests his hand on your thigh. he shushes you as you hiccup, messily apologizing for your state, “it’s okay, don’t apologizing.” his voice is a tad bit wobbly as he says so and he doesn’t really know what to do. he tries to get up to bring you some water, wishing that it could calm you down a little but you hold his wrist. he is unable to get off his knees when your teary eyes lock with his. when you fall in his arms, his soul feels your pain like its own.

PARK SUNGHOON it’s like his breath is being taken away from him the more he watches your face crumble into pieces. he can’t do anything but look at you, at your tears falling on your reddened cheeks, at your teeth biting your lower lip in utmost despair to stop crying. he catches you in his arms when you completely fall under the pressure of your sadness. he admits it, his eyes got a little teary when you started to cry and even more when you wrapped your arms around his neck so strongly. sunghoon decides that you need some rest—therefore, your feet are off the floor in a minute and he is walking towards the bedroom. you whine when he slightly lets go to put you on the mattress; “shh, i’m here,” he assures before laying next to you.

KIM SUNOO knows there is something wrong as soon as he comes back home. your puffy eyes and you sad smile tells him everything that he needs to know— yet, you insist on telling him that nothing his wrong. he doesn’t when the love of his life hides her pain from him, but he doesn’t want to be too punchy so he doesn’t press. “okay, i love you,” he whispers without expecting a response. he just lets it out, as a gentle reminder, a quieter way of saying that he is there for you. but he didn’t expect for you to cover your mouth to hide a sob in your throat. sunoo reaches to you immediately, distress displayed on his face as obvious as the ache of his heart. he brings you closer to his circle of warmth ever so gently. his shoulder welcomes your forehead without complaint and his hand pats your head. he doesn’t let you go until you swear you are okay.

YANG JUNGWON his hands cup your face. he puts his face so close to yours that you let out a teary giggle. “you are always so pretty,” he whispers, his thumb wiping the falling tear under your eye, “even when you cry, doll” ridiculously enough, his sweetness makes you want to cry even more than a few moments prior. yet, you still smile at jungwon, whose smile is so bright that it could light up an entire city. your tears wet your face without your permission and when he leans in to give you a peck on the mouth, his lips after salty. he comes back for another, though. he aims for everywhere: on your nose, on your cheeks, on your forehead. your giggles are wobbly and confuse themselves between many of your quiet sobs—but they are here. and he thanks god for that.

NISHIMURA RIKI does completely crumble whenever he sees you cry, or when he does as much as thinking about it. he doesn’t know what to do or what to say. your boyfriend stumbles over every surface of the apartment to find tissues for you. “hey,” he whispers, voice shaky due to his worry and his heartbeats being so fast. he sits on the edge of the bed, next to your body laid on the bed. he frowns when you look at him, desperately trying to wipe off your tears. he takes one tissue and brings it closer to your face. “no,” he says as you try to grab the tissue, “let me take care of you, baby, hm?” he cleans your damped and gorgeous face. there is a limp in his throats when you let out a shaky whisper, when your soft body shakes as you hiccup. he tucks you under the covers and gives you a kiss on the forehead, “rest a little.”

분지 ܃ i wrote this in a rush, i still hope you enjoy <3

© 𝖮𝖪𝖶𝖮𝖭𝖸𝖮 ୨୧ 𝟐𝐎𝟐𝟓 ── taglist open 。

[fushiguruuzzzz]

satoru loves when you coddle him, and that satisfaction only heightens in the times you do it after he gets all scarred up.

maybe it is because of the fact that he cares most if you still think he is pretty (he knows he is, but hearing it from your lips makes it feel so much more meaningful; something more than a remarkable face, something to be appreciated and loved by the eyes of the affectionate rather than feared by strangers on the street). maybe it it because you are one of few that appreciate the things he had to do to end up with them at all — the hatred branded into his skin, not just a sign of survival, instead a reflection of the many who seek to end a life that was pushed upon him. in the end, none of it matters, because he grins and tilts his head into your touch the moment your knuckles ghost over his cheek all the same.

his skin is a pattern of silky smoothness and rough, scarred skin that create a rhythm speaking of his existence as you trace them. it is like reading your own form of braille, the words unintelligible but pouring the comprehension of his strength into your soul. he is so strong. even as his eyes soften and a boyish sigh leaves his lips, even as his shoulders ease and his lashes flutter in a matter that is so mortal, he is strong.

“can’t keep your hands off me?” he asks, but truly he has been waiting for it all day. he surely would have jumped your bones and forced the caress to his face if you dared to not touch him. but satoru does not say that, not right now. for once, he lets himself be quiet. he lets himself not feel a need to fill it, knowing that not every weakness must be cloaked by wit when he is in your presence.

you smile. his heart jumps the same way it did when he was a teenager. “more or less,” you say, and he cannot help but snigger.

his own hand comes up, digits bracketing your own between the plane of his cheek and his palm. he holds it there for a moment, staring up at you with such intense sapphire eyes that have softened to a powder blue as the tranquility overtook them. he watches, and he does not need six-eyes to see the look in your eyes. you are cherishing him. loving him. seeing him for what he is: a man. and although he is strong and confident and cocky, the heart does not speak of humour or intelligence or other likes of the brain. it only calls out for something to beat for. right now, he has found that, and he has never felt more human than he does in the midst of it.

scarjo 🩵🩵🩵🩵

[ofbatsandballads]

recently got reminded of Jason’s “hello bed, hello pillow,” line and how deeply I feel that reflects his character and his longing. so here’s some yearning!jason because that boy loves deeply and profoundly down to his very soul. have I mentioned I love him? also once again the romanized arabic at the end translates to “my life” and it’s quickly becoming one of my favorite terms of endearment for Jay to use.

Thinking about Jason Todd and how deeply he yearns for you. He’s waited so long to be loved in the way he craves, has been so hungry for it that the ache in his belly has never really gone away. He’s been a wraith, a corpse, a man starving for affection and sweetness. And then you come along and change everything for him. How couldn’t he yearn for you? How couldn’t he long for you every moment that you’re not in his presence? Revere you and worship you every moment that you are?

Thinking about Jason Todd who treats you like something divine, something holy. He kisses the bruises you get from bumping into countertops or tripping along the crooked cobblestones in Gotham Heights. He ghosts his thumbs over your closed eyes when you lay down with him to sleep in the early hours of the morning. Jason Todd who holds you so, so close to him. He knows you run cold and he runs burning hot, so it’s only right that he wraps his entire body around you to keep you warm and safe. It’s proof to him that the two of you may be something fated, something that life and death can’t touch. How perfectly you suit each other. His fire to your coolness, his strength to your gentleness, his storm to your clear shining day.

Thinking about Jason Todd who clings to everything he’s ever loved and lost with bloodied fingers from how tightly he holds on. His fingers aren’t bloodied with you though. He doesn’t have to dig his nails in, bite down with his teeth, and force you to stay. You remain peacefully in his arms. You lie there content like you trust him, like you love him. That’s what makes his yearning all the more fierce—it’s returned by you. He used to doubt it, used to think he was unworthy and undeserving and that no one could possibly pick him out of all the people in the world. But you’ve stuck around and proved him wrong. So when he yearns for you, it isn’t with the pain of clawing into something bound to leave him. It isn’t with the bone-deep terror of loss. He yearns for you with the peace of coming home.

Thinking of Jason Todd who comes back from patrol just before daybreak. The sky is the same blue-green as his eyes and exhaustion weighs down his body. Still, his soul lifts when he sees what he’s been longing for for the past three hours. A warm bed, a soft pillow, and his heart snuggled up under the blankets.

“Hello, bed,” Jason says as he pulls his helmet off and sets it on the dresser.

“Hello, pillow,” he greets as he lays his gear on the balcony railings to be cleaned tomorrow.

“Hello, hayati,” he whispers with a kiss to your hair as he climbs into bed and pulls you into his arms.

Just…thinking about Jason Todd who yearns for you.

[bouqette]

jock!vi had just finished washing up in the locker rooms when you walked in. she turned around at the sound of the door opening, a towel hanging dangerously low on her hips. vi raised an eyebrow as you shuffled in timidly, the corner of her mouth curling up into a smirk when she took in the tight fitting, bedazzled cheerleading uniform you had on.  

vi raked a hand through her damp hair, before tilting her head towards you. you froze, lips parted and eyes wide.

you didn’t know where to look.

was it her thick biceps that looked even wider than your own face? the dark tattoos adorning her skin? or the way the water droplets seemed to glimmer off her defined abs, and—

“like what you see?” 

the sound of her low, teasing voice almost sent you right off the edge. you averted your gaze, body growing hot with embarrassment. 

“s-sorry! i…” you mumbled, trying to come up with an excuse, but the way the pink haired jock was staring at you made your throat tighten, any semblance of coherent thought disappearing from your brain.

“no worries, sparkles.” vi chuckled as she took a step towards you. she made no effort in securing the loose towel on her hips, and you thanked whatever deity above that she had a bra on, because if she didn’t, you don't think you would have survived to see another day.

“so, what are you here for?” vi asked, blue eyes watching you intently.

you blinked. right, the reason why you came into their locker rooms. 

“oh—” your voice cracked, and you awkwardly coughed to clear your throat. 

shit. okay, breathe. 

you willed yourself to focus on the tiled wall behind vi, because just acknowledging the existence of the ridiculously attractive woman in front of you was enough to make you brain short-circuit.

“i was told there were spare pom poms here.”

“oh? i think i know where they are.” 

vi turned around, and you physically felt your heart stop for a second. 

the wide expanse of her back was completely exposed, tatted, and mouth-wateringly hot. you watched her reach up to one of the cabinets above a locker, back muscles contracting under her still damp skin. you’d sell your soul to have the image ingrained in your brain forever.

“hey, sparkles?” 

you snapped out of your thoughts, finding vi watching you with an amused smile. “y-yes?”

“you going to take ‘em?” vi stretched her hand forward, offering you two pom poms. 

you took the two tufts of fluff from her, hands clenching tightly on the fuzzy material as you muttered a quiet thanks. your eyes flickered up to hers one more time, and you immediately regretted your decision. vi was staring down at you through heavy lidded eyes, powder blues watching you so intently you could feel a heat starting to pool in your stomach. 

you quickly looked away, heading for the door before you were really going to lose your mind. 

“see you in the match later.” vi called out. 

you didn’t have the guts to turn back around, opting for a small nod before you hurried away from the locker rooms. 

jock!vi who winked at you when she ran out into the field for the afternoon game. you could barely focus on the routine, the image of the pink haired footballer kept resurfacing in your mind, her muscles, her smile, her teasing voice — just thinking about her was enough to turn your cheeks pink. 

but you weren’t the only one who was distracted. 

“vi, i need your head in the game, yeah?” the coach said to her sternly during half time.

vi nodded, only for her eyes to trail off the second her coach started talking to her teammate. she smiled a little when she spotted you in the stands with the other cheerleaders, seriously wondering how she had never noticed you before.

“vi!”

vi flinched, tearing her focus away from you. “yes, ready!” she jumped up to her feet, jogging back up to the pitch. 

jock!vi who couldn’t take her eyes off you during the afterparty. she should honestly be reflecting on her subpar performance, but the dress you were wearing was just a little too distracting. the fabric hugged your curves perfectly, the dark maroon complementing your complexion perfectly, revealing the perfect amount of your skin. vi watched you from a distance, staring in a trance as you talked and laughed with your friends. 

for the first time ever, vi found herself desperate. 

she was desperate for your attention, desperate to run her roughened hands over your soft skin, to kiss those plump lips of yours until the makeup you perfected became smudged all over. 

vi downed another shot, and pushed past her teammates, weaving through the crowd to finally get to your side. 

“hey, sparkles.” 

you turned around, smiling at her. “hi, violet.” the soft way you uttered her name had her melting. 

vi leaned into you, resting a hand on your shoulder. your friends sent each other a few knowing looks, slowly inching away from the two of you. 

“enjoying yourself?” vi was so close that even under the dim lighting of the party, you could see the smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

“yeah.” you breathed out.

she was so close, way too close. you could feel her hot breath on your cheek, smell her smoky cologne … in your moment of distraction someone shoved past you, making you lose your balance. your hand flailed out, spilling the contents of your drink over yourself, soaking the front of your dress.  

vi was quick to catch you, wrapping an arm around you and steadying you against her chest. 

“easy there, princess.”

you could feel your heart hammering against your chest as you regained your footing. “shit…” you mumbled, feeling the damp liquid seeping through the fabric of your dress. vi seemed to have noticed that too, given that her arm was pressed up against your ribcage. your face burned with embarrassment, and you pushed yourself away from her. 

“sorry, i—”

“don’t apologise.” vi interrupted you, her voice firm, but her touch remained gentle. “let’s get you cleaned up.” 

jock!vi who honestly did not plan on kissing you in the bathroom. it just… happened. she was pressing toilet paper on the damp spot of your dress, and — okay, maybe she did graze her fingertips over the top of your breasts on purpose, but it was hard not to tease you, when you’d jut your lower lip out into that adorable pout. she never would have thought that you would pull her down, slotting your lips over hers.

despite her surprise, vi was eager to reciprocate. 

she moved against you desperately, one hand resting on the back of your neck, holding you in place, and the other roaming slowly down your body to rest on your waist. her lips were hot and eager, pressing against yours in a delicious frenzy. 

vi pulled you closer, groaning against your lips when your chest pressed up against hers. you shivered when you felt her fingertips teasing the hem of your dress, moving just upwards slightly, grazing the lace hem of your underwear. 

“hurry the fuck up!”

a loud bang on the flimsy wooden door made the two of you jump. and vi was quick to turn around with an annoyed frown. she opened her mouth, about to cuss out whoever was outside, but the touch of your hand on her bicep stopped her. 

vi looked down at you, and you thought she looked so pretty like this. lips swollen, eyes glazed with desire. 

the door rattled with another thump of a fist, and much to her dismay, you hopped off the sink top, straightening out your dress.

“w-we should head out.” you mumbled.

vi wanted to argue, but the pleading look in your eyes shut her up instantly. 

jock!vi who could not get a wink of sleep that night. every time she closed her eyes, the sight of you, face flushed, plump lips reddened, would plague her mind like a sweet, tortuous curse. vi wanted to hear your sweet moans against her ear, to have your body trapped between her hands. but most of all, she wanted to have you beside her, to fall asleep with her face buried in the nook of your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as she hugs you close. 

oh. fuck.

jock!vi, who finally realised that she was completely and utterly smitten.