#sensitive boy in a tough world !

[cybertron-after-dark]

Blades x Bumblebee good.

Blades x Heatwave also good.

But for your consideration:

Blades x Boulder.

[viciousins]

' i've been losing my mind for the last week because the girl i love has vanished from my life without an explanation . ' feels the lump in his throat threaten to escape , voice on the verge of shattering . ' after everything we've been through — don't you think i at least deserve an explanation ? '

[joyfulwinnerdonut]

George Pickens on his take with Greg Newsome, "I don't even know who that is."

Date: December 6, 2024 The Steelers take on the Cleveland Browns are playing this Sunday, and there is already trash talk going around as this rivalry is heating up. On Friday, Steelers wide receiver George Pickins responded to reporters about Greg Newsome, "I don't even know who that is," Pickins responded to the reporters, Pickens and Newsome fighting in the endzone after the Hail Mary attempt during their Week 12 matchup against the Cleveland Browns; Pittsburgh lost 24-19 "I don’t really think the Cleveland Browns are a good team at all.” the Steelers wide receiver told reporters after their loss to Clevland. Pittsburgh is 9-3 and stands in the first place of the AFC North, searching for a playoff spot, while the Browns are 3-9, looking to either win as many games as possible or play for draft picks. Both teams play this Sunday, and the Browns have an opportunity to sweep the Steelers for the first time since 1988...(Read More)

[espresso1patronum]

megumi is your boyfriend, and he believes he cannot appear vulnerable in front of you. he just can’t. he doesn’t want you to see the things that have scarred him, the memories that have utterly traumatized him. even though you’re the person he trusts most in the world, the one he’s more open with than anyone else, he hides his pain. he doesn’t want you to see that he gets hurt, even though he does—deeply.

you know this about him. and it breaks your heart.

all megumi ever wanted was a peaceful life, but life rarely grants such wishes. he has lost loved ones, broken apart, pieced himself back together, and endured unimaginable pain. but now, he has you. and he doesn’t want to risk it—losing you would be worse than losing his own life.

maybe that’s why he clings to you so tightly when you’re sitting on the sofa together, watching a movie. while your focus is entirely on the screen, megumi isn’t paying attention to the film at all. instead, his dark eyes are studying you—your face, the way your emotions shift with every scene. to him, you’re like a sacred book he’s determined to memorize.

his long fingers intertwine with yours as he lets out a soft sigh, leaning in to bury his face against your neck.

“gumi, is something wrong?” you ask, sensing the tension in his embrace.

he exhales again, pulling you closer. “mmh,” he hums, his voice low and noncommittal.

you chuckle lightly, running your fingers through his hair. “you know, if something’s bothering you, you can always tell me,” you say gently.

he lifts his head, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he looks away. “yeah, i know,” he mutters, the words lacking conviction.

frowning, you reach out to cup his jaw, turning his face back to you. “i mean it,” you insist, your tone firm yet filled with warmth. “and don’t you worry—i’ll always stay with you.”

megumi’s eyes widen slightly at your words before softening, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. for all his tough exterior, he’s still your little grump—the boy who, deep down, is far more sensitive than he lets on.

he sits up suddenly, his expression sincere as he gazes at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. “that’s why i love you,” he says, his voice quiet but unwavering.

without waiting for a reply, he pulls you into a warm embrace, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in his world. and to him, you are.

[gladiatorcunt]

Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

[lilislegacy]

i think that when annabeth and percy move to california for college, they start having dinner with annabeth’s family once every 1-2 weeks. it’s probably a little tense at first, and annabeth is likely anxious about it. percy could either be pissed off and angry with them about how they treated her, or he could be really nice and trying to diffuse the tension to make things easier for annabeth.

but either way, i think one thing would be abundantly clear: percy is her family. not them. at least, not in the ways that matter.

mr. and mrs. chase have probably only ever seen annabeth with her walls up. never letting her guard down. she’s always tough around them, and never lets herself become trusting of them. because she has to protect herself from letting them hurt her again. as a young child, she felt unloved and resented by them enough that she preferred the cold dangerous streets to being with them. so even if their relationship begins to grow better - and i really do think it gets good eventually - she’s careful around them. she protects herself, and therefore isn’t super warm and fuzzy around them. since she’s grown up, there’s a good chance they’ve never seen her show true emotion. they’ve probably never seen a true smile from her. they’ve probably never seen her lean on someone.

but then she brings percy. they would see that the 14 year old little boy who they once met grew up into a tall, striking, intimidating young man. he has the same look in his unique sea green eyes that makes you know he’s been through horrible trauma. he’s carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. (literally). the rest of him may appear 18, but his eyes look 100 years old. he’s the first person they’ve really known who is like annabeth in that way.

and here’s the thing: percy and annabeth are a team. there’s an unbreakable bond between them. they move and fight as one. they are best friends in the whole world, and it’s clear to anyone who sees them. but they are also hopelessly in love, and that’s also clear to anyone who sees them. so imagine annabeth’s family, who’ve only ever known her to be distinctly independent and closed off, seeing her and percy holding hands. seeing them sit so close together that they’re nearly on top of each other. seeing her put her hand on his arm and kiss his cheek, or seeing him wrap his arms around her and gently kiss her forehead. and nevermind the touches, imagine them seeing her just look at him. a look full of vulnerability and adoration and complete trust. full of love and warmth and emotion. because that’s who annabeth really is. she’s emotional and sensitive and warm. but she’s always had to be someone else around her family, because in her mind, the true her wasn’t good enough for them.

but now they see her, all grown up, and with this young man by her side who is clearly her everything. and i think it would be a punch to the gut seeing them together. because it would be the first time they realize that she doesn’t think of them as her family. percy is her family, and percy alone. annabeth does not regard them - her own dad and step-mom and brothers - as her real family. percy fills that role all by himself. and it’s entirely their own fault.

[princessbrunette]

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃a continuation from the rafe and puppy universe…(click me) ࣪

rafe doesn’t always treat puppy!reader so nicely. infact, sometimes she really tests his patience.

he drags you through the front door to tannyhill with a hand wrapped around your arm — thick gold rings wound round his fingers undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake as he yanks you inside. you can’t keep up with his long strides, tripping over and having the eldest cameron repeatedly carry the entirety of your weight with his hand everytime you stumbled— wrenching you back to your feet.

whilst this occurs, he lectures you through grit teeth — at the end of his tether. “what’d i tell you huh? what’d i fuckin’ tell you ‘bout manners?” he asks and you’re not sure if it’s rhetorical, letting him march you up the stairs to his bedroom.

“its no big deal—” you hiccup through pained whines as you try to pull away from his stern grip, only making him tighten it.

“nah, nah — you knew exactly what you were doing at the country club. running that mouth when i — i specifically told you to behave today.”

there had been a very high class event, ward forcing rafe to take you along to get you accustomed to the kook-lifestyle after so long of slumming it at the other side of the island. you were ditsy, but not dumb — you saw the way the camerons looked at you, with pity — like you simply weren’t made for this world. thats why you got so attached to rafe, he didn’t pity you. it was tough love, so you assumed — the boy constantly lecturing and berating you but would be the first to save you from any potentially damaging or dangerous situations, and god forbid anyone spoke to you as poorly as he did.

the afternoon was unsavable from the start. you may have been responsible for the large chocolate fountain at the food table falling, you’d accidentally insulted the president of the country club to his face, you’d mistakenly smeared food on the back of rafe’s shirt, and when rafe was rightfully lecturing you for that — you bit him. you bit him infront of one of the important businessmen he had been trying to impress. you understood his anger for once, you’d messed up.

he tosses you onto his bed making you stumble onto it, turning around to watch the way the boy angrily rifles through his dresser drawers, furiously continue to ramble at you. “you know i’ve been saving this, yeah — saving this from when you really messed up. ‘cos i knew you would. you’re a pogue, and you’ll always be one. and — and i’ve been here, tryna look after the runt of the litter — and yet you still disrespect me.” he shakes his head and you watch forlornly, watching him find what he was looking for and begin to pull it out.

“well you wanna run that mouth? wanna— wanna bite me in public? i’m gonna have t’treat you like the dirty pogue puppy you are— okay? didnt wanna have to do this kid but you leave me no choice. s’gotta be me to discipline you, alright? c’mere.” in his hand, you instantly recognise to be some form of muzzle. like the type you’d see on a dog, but this time perfectly crafted to fit a female face. you’d had no idea where he’d got such a cruel item, he had to have had it custom made just to shut you up, a sick fantasy he’d been sitting on. you cower, and he’s unphased.

he undoes the buckles on the side so that he can put it on you, but not before yanking your hands to his belt and leaving them there. “undo this. you’re gonna wear this, n’then you’re gonna let me take what i want from you. a’ight? i’m in charge. you’re gonna learn your damn lesson whether you like it or not.”

you whine as you obey him, trembling fingers fumbling for his belt. the worst part about this, was that you couldn’t deny your arousal. the manhandling, the degrading — you were a sensitive girl, who had sensitive needs, but something about the boy you had such a crush on, the same boy who would deny reluctantly cuddling you to sleep when you had a bad dream that one time, treating you so mean was making your cunt ache with need.

“i’m not gonna bite, i just want to kiss again.” you wail weakly as he brings the muzzle to your face, scoffing out a chuckle that read directly as ‘fat fucking chance’. rafe had kissed you a few times. moments of weakness. he couldn’t deny his feelings for you but — well, actually yes he could. he did deny his feelings for you, and often too. he was head over heels and he didn’t like that.

“kiss? you— you think you deserve a kiss after the way you behaved today?” once the muzzle is fastened and you’re staring up at him with big watery puppy dog eyes, he finishes up with yanking off his belt and undoing his zipper, trying to ignore how your pitiful expression looked. rafe was mean but he wasn’t an idiot— he knows you didn’t mean to be the way you were. you were innocent, naive — but god if taking advantage of that didn’t get him off.

his heart twinges at the sorry look on your face so he flips you over onto your front on the bed, body sprawled out and bouncing from the force. “nah…” he answers his own question as he tugs your dress up your back to reveal your soaked through panties between trembling thighs. he thumbs at the wet patch above where your hole sits meanly, scoffing. “you’re gonna shut up and take this dick. maybe then you’ll get your damn kiss.”

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one. 

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready. 

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?” 

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago. 

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy. 

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary. 

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting.  “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course. 

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant. 

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say. 

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?” 

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again. 

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!” 

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to. 

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth. 

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday. 

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class. 

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

 After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged. 

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes. 

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were. 

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real… 

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself. 

[bunni-v1]

Thanking that anon who asked if Lighter have weird fetishes or something along those lines,

Not a request— just a thought to share about Lighter, sub! Lighter. 👁️👁️🍷

Him to be known as a strong man, who never loses. Losing on the damn bed, crying for you to let him cum, the way his hands shakily reaching out to your wrist that prevents his cock to let out that white liquid out. Only for you to press down harder by the tip making his body arched beautifully, his hands gripping on the bedsheets his knuckles turning white.

"please— please let me c— ah— wait wait wait, no stop!— d, don't press harder— n, no nngghii—!?!!? "

Like—?? HWBDHENNDFF— LIGHTER—

Using the sound on his cock too edge him is also— chef's kiss. Watch him cry and writhe begging for you to take it out.

Ahem.

Mdni

Sub Lighter is such a cutie, y’know? He really is a tough guy, honestly. He’s all sharp edges to the outside world, which is perfectly fine! But god breaking his mental sounds fun, doesn’t it?

On the VERY RARE occasion he lets you top — at least, actually top and not just has you on top while he’s still in control — it’s so much fun getting back at him for all the torture he puts your through.

Strip him down, slowly of course, you can’t rush such a rare opportunity like this. First his jacket, then his shirt, kiss all around his chest (pay close attention to his scars, he melts like butter in your hands when you mumble how pretty they are). Make sure your free hand is fondling him through his too tight jeans, those moans are delicious. It’s important to note you must keep your clothes on here, it’s part of the fun.

Press warm, slow kisses down his abdomen before working his belt and pants off. Then slowly inch his boxers after and watch his cock spring out and smack his abdomen with an audible thump. Don’t touch it yet, though, he might get too eager and take back control if you’re not careful.

Tie him up with pretty red ribbon, oh or his scarf, he’s less likely to tear his scarf apart. Maybe handcuffs or rope — though he could easily break those too. He’ll complain as you tie his hands to the bedpost, annoyed that he can’t touch you too. The whiny tone out of place from him, but oh so delectable.

When you pull out the cock cage he knows it’s game over. He fucking hates that thing, but he doesn’t do more than grumble because he’s such a good boy. Tell him he’s such a good boy as you turn the lock on the horrid thing.

Now that you have him all restrained you can take your sweet time. Start with his nipples, they’re very sensitive. You could ghost your fingers over them and he’d buck his hips already. Scratch your nails over one while you suck on the other, looking him in the eyes while he whines like a slut.

Your other hand should scrape over his sides as you do so, nice and slow so he squirms. Go nice and slow, spend at least a good few minutes doing this. Then, once you’re satisfied, kiss and suck your way down to his thighs. Leave pretty purple marks into the muscled meat there. Coo at him about how cute he is, how pathetic he is, how you like him so much when he’s whining and squirming.

Listen to him beg you, “P-please~ I wanna fuck you. Lemme fuck you baby, lemme make you feel good~”

And who are you to deny him that? Just… not the way he wants. He’s so excited when you slip your pants and panties off, practically wagging his nonexistent tail. But you don’t take the cage off, and instead of untying his wrists you position yourself over his head.

He’ll pout a little, then he’ll get a good look at your glistening pussy and moan like a whore. “Gonna make me feel good, pretty boy?”

“Mhm~” Is the last thing he gets out before you sit on him, and then the room is full of nothing but desperate slurping and sucking. He needs to taste you more than air, has to get you off and drown in your delicious pussy juice. It’s all he wants. All he needs. Fuck his face hard, don’t hold back, he’s a strong guy he can take it. And even if he can’t this was probably the best way he could go out.

But, don’t give him what he wants, that would make things boring. Edge yourself, just as your about to cum, pull off of him to hear the most precious whine you’ll ever get out of him. His eyes will be blow wide and his face covered in your slick, be careful cause he will press up and chase after you.

“Wanna make you cum, please—“ He’ll cry, voice breaking. Do not humor him.

Return to your previous ministrations, slow and steady wins the race after all. This time, though, when you get to his thighs reach for that little key and slowly remove the cage and you leave more pretty marks. He’ll sigh, throw his head back in relief as his poor tortured member twitches excitedly at the freedom.

Kiss it, smack it around a little, run your fingers along those pretty veins just to hear him hiss and watch his hips jerk. “So desperate~” You’ll coo, and he’ll whine a “Shut up…” back. It’s all so cute.

Finally, give him what he wants. With a little kiss and a sweet smile, take him all down in one go. He’ll jerk up into you, so smack his thigh as a reminder of who’s in charge here. Throat fuck him all the way up to climax, and then full stop the second you feel him tense up.

Return back to his thighs for a moment, then jerk him off in the same process, stopping right at his peak. He’ll beg, oh he’ll beg, “Gotta cum— please lemme cum~ Baby, please, please, please-“

If he gets too annoying just squeeze his balls nice and tight, that’ll get him to choke on his words. Threaten to take out the sounding tools if he keeps it up — he hates sounding when you do it, you’re so mean to him~

Edge him until he’s so red and swollen and covered in pre-cum that he’s hardly even present to answer you. All he can think about is how much he wants one of you — he doesn’t even care if it’s him anymore — to cum.

Climb back up his body, and finally kiss him. He still tastes like you as he swallows up the affection, practically consuming you whole. Rub your pussy against his lower abdomen as you let him tongue fuck you. You can feel his muscles tense as he tries and fails to get some kind of friction for his swollen cock.

When you pull away he’ll no doubt whine again — he can’t ever decide what he wants more when you’re torturing him like this. Your pleasure or his. Too much for his mushy little brain to think of.

“You wanna fuck me, wanna make me cum.” You’ll ask, positioning yourself over his achingly hard dick.

He nods dumbly, very distracted by your hand jerking him off just below heavens gate. “Gotta use your words.”

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby. Gonna— gonna make you cum as much as you want, please lemme take care of you~” He begs, pouting like a child at you.

“Okay~” You coo, sinking all the way down until he fits to the brim. He moans your name out like you’re some kind of god, but stops short when you don’t move. He’ll look at you angrily, tugging on the restraints once. A warning.

“You said you wanna fuck me,” You whisper, crawling up his chest to his ear, “So fuck me~”

So, like the very good boy he is, he does his very best to get off with you not moving on top of him. He fucks up into you like a bitch in heat, whining and crying all the way — “You’re so tight, can’ take it—“ “Feels s’ good— so fuckin’ good.” “Lemme cum baby, please move.”

He just can’t get off without you, though. As hot and tight as your little cunt is, he can only do so much when you’re giving him nothing to work with. No moans, no movement, just little kisses and whispers of “Good boy”. It wasn’t enough.

“Baby~” He’ll cry, and you’ll take his face in your hands, wiping away tears he didn’t know was falling.

Take pity on him here, he’s so spent and so broken now. All he wants is you. Give him a little break. Move your hips in time with him and watch his eyes roll back. He jerks in his restraints again and that’s your second warning to hurry it the fuck up.

Fuck him, hard. Slam your hips down into him, over and over unrelenting and watch him writhe and mutter “Thank you” over and over. He only knows that and your name at this point. Oh, and don’t be a hardass, let him cum inside. He’ll take care of it later, he warned to fill you up with his cum deep inside.

But… don’t stop moving even after he’s cum. Roll your hips in the same brutal pace, and listen to him whine and beg you to stop. Don’t stop.

“N’ more…” He huffs out, trying and failing to pull away from you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You’ll coo.

He shakes his head, “‘s too much.”

“C’mon pretty boy, you can give me one more~” And he’ll look at you with the cutest pout until — snap. That’s the sound of his restraints breaking. One of his hands grabs your smug face with a nasty scowl and the other is grabbing your hip in a vice grip.

Guess you flew a little to close to the sun, huh. Good luck!~

[cologona]

The thing about Bruce making Dick Robin is that it can be read as empathy. Bruce and Dick both lost their family in the same way, and so Bruce tries to help Dick by giving him what he wanted as a young orphan. Justice, closure, power, meaning. Something to make the world right again, some way to move forward, someone who understands.

But that same reading is not as easy to apply to Jason

If I were to read Bruce in a particularly unflattering light, I'd say Bruce fundamentally saw Jason as more expendable than Dick. He was so afraid of losing Dick that he totally sabotaged that relationship, but he's fine with this much younger kid playing the same dangerous role? Jason is a tough street kid sure sure, but is he tougher than 18 year old Dick motherfucking Grayson??? No.

If I were to read Bruce in a more sympathetic light, I'd say that in Bruce's mind orphan = craving-for-justice-that-can-only-be-satiated-with-vigilantism, and since he found out Jason's father was dead he was trying to give Jason the same guidance and empowerment Dick got. He genuinely thought it would work. He did this at the same time that he was actively hiding the death of Jason's father, because this intense self-projection is happening at the subconscious level. He simultaneously wants to comfort the orphan and prevent the orphan from becoming "real" by hiding the truth. It is not logical but it is well-meaning.

(This self-projection is also the source of Bruce's bizarre assertion that Jason has anger issues- he isn't a classist asshole he's just sensitive! 👉👈)

Either way, there is clearly an instability to the concept of Jason's Robin. Batman and Robin requires suspending one's disbelief about child soldiers to degree higher than other superheroes, but there's not quite enough to support that suspension here.

Because how exactly is being Robin supposed to help Jason? What about Jason's supposed anger issues lend themselves to being helped by vigilantism? Jason could've just been Bruce Wayne's son, so why is he also Robin?

...Would Jason have just been Bruce Wayne's son?

I.. don't think so. I don't think Bruce adopted him just to offer a good home- not really. Bruce certainly wanted Jason to have a good home, but that's what sending him to Ma Gunn's school was supposed to be. Ma Gunn didn't work out sure, but it's not like she was the only option. Bruce could've just done more research the second time around. If Jason had rejected becoming Robin, would Bruce have still adopted him? If Batman had not intended for Jason to become involved with hero work, could you see him still sending Jason off to Wayne Manor to be adopted?

Bruce didn't just want a son, or even just a Robin. He wanted something specific- he wanted the feeling of having Dick back. Bruce praises Jason for how similar he is to Dick in his head, and based on Alfred's warning and Jason's own behavior, he apparently compared Jason to Dick quite a bit during training. When Dick himself eventually comes to confront Bruce about why there's another Robin, he pretty much lays it bare: Jason is Robin because he missed Dick. That's the core of it.

Now on one hand this is flattering for Jason! It means he was chosen for the Robin mantle because he demonstrated the good qualities similar to the original. In another universe maybe Jason Todd's Robin isn't the angry one or the dead one, maybe he got to develop and he could've become the Robin that came from sharing laughter and life rather than grief. A Cinderella? A little lotus boy.

On the other hand that's not the universe we live in and this reason has absolutely fuck-all to do with Jason.

As for Tim, parentification is straight up the basis of his Robin. It’s impossible to read his “Batman needs Robin” spiel without reading it as a meta statement because in-universe it’s just an extremely frgiggi depressing scenario.

I think Dick might be the only person for whom Bruce's intense self-projection kinda worked out. Not that their relationship was good, but the core of it was okay? Cassandra comes close but Bruce sorta… lives out his dreams of being all-Batman all-the-time through her. He pushed his bad impulses onto her and she didn’t understand the value of not being Batman so it came off really creepy. He was encouraging her to rely him. Like a tool.

[nickybloodhead]

I wanna make early 90s James my bitch. Like he’s tough and arrogant but for me? He’s the sweetest, most caring man. Something about manly men being soft af for you gets me weak on my knees.

Anon you're right, making that big man all soft for me is one of the things I want most in this world.

James is an imposing, tall, huge man, isn't he? And in the 90s he was fucking arrogant looking down on everyone with superiority... But when he comes home to you he becomes a docile puppy, looking to be petted and cuddled by his girl.

If you two are watching a movie he MUST have his head in your lap so you can play with his hair which would set him purring.

At bedtime he enjoys being the little spoon although he won't tell anyone that, it's kind of funny for you to be the big spoon because you're practically wrapped around him and yet you can't cover his whole body.

He follows you around the house like a baby duckling when you are doing anything like cooking, cleaning, reading; no matter what you are doing he will be there watching you with all the love in the world; then he will get tired of not getting attention and start bothering you until you only have eyes for him.

In bed it's no different, yes, he may take control when you are going to fuck most of the time but when he is in needy mode you will be the one taking the reins. You would push him onto the bed and climb on top of him to kiss the expanse of his body, from his lips to his thighs because you know how shaky he gets when you nibble on his sensitive skin there, after foreplay you would ride him so hard he forgets how to talk, he would lie there on the bed watching you reverently as you take him and make him lose his mind.

In the end, when you both cum he would be in your embrace for a little aftercare.

"You took it so well my love, what a good boy standing still while I rode you" You'd murmur against his hair all this praise as he hums contentedly, hiding his head in your neck to sigh happily.

I also want to make that man my bitch

[venusdotcomm]

fuck-up

noun vulgar slang

noun: fuck-up; plural noun: fuck-ups; noun: fuckup; plural noun: fuckups

• a mess or muddle.

a person who has a tendency to make a mess of things.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ content index; i was very inebriated writing this. s1 rafe cameron x cam girl reader, masturbation, porn sites, mentions of cocaine & weed.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𝓥: i know i abandoned this blog but i'm back (cue the crickets.) i don't even know if this fandom is active on here? if it is, hello there. if not, let this fade into obscurity. it's not proofread either saurrr....sorry <3

rafe cameron is a certified, class a fuck-up.

it's not like he knew this is how people thought of him. no one's ever said it to his face— not yet anyhow. but, he just knew.

yknow?

it was somethin' about how people looked at him, right?

the long hidden stares of sheer, colossal disappointment from kooks, pouges, and tourons alike. the eyes were the windows to the thoughts weren't they? he could see it, he could fuckin' see it, he knew he could.

but then again, that's sorta the effect being blitzed out of his mind on blow had. the whole hallucination thing during the comedown wasn't exactly his favorite thing in the world— but god did it make him feel so. fucking. good.

the high of it all. the way it made his heart race and his fingers feel tingly.

it was sorta the same thing with you, now that he thought about it. you were his nose candy personified and wrapped up in pretty lingerie, he fuckin' loved it.

he found you on accident— yes on accident, and he swears on it alright? rafe cameron wasn't some dirty fleabagged incel okay? he had fuckin' class.

but he just— he happened to see an ad for a specific site with a specific pretty lady plastered on the front and boy, did rafe like pretty things.

now here he was.

locked in his room, long legs spread out awfully wide across his bed with his eyes focused on the laptop screen like his life depended on it. he just wanted to unwind, okay? to just chill the fuck out, smoke a joint, hotbox his room a lil. that was the plan...

but something about sativa man, it always made him sensitive. he found that out at a party when a girl in— too short of a skirt if you asked him, brushed past him so she could cut into the kitchen. something about the friction...jesus. he had never been harder.

that was sorta the problem now, and all he did was brush his hand down his shirt to smooth out a wrinkle. he always did get carried away didn't he? but that was later rafe's problem.

now rafe just wanted to cum, the tent in his shorts pretty much gave that away with how his cock strained against his boxers. the only thing soothing his impatience as he hastily logged into his account was the way his hand palmed at his aching hard-on. faint moans and sighs leaving him as his eyes flickered shut, then open, then shut again while he scoured the favorites tab just to find you.

he only had a few girls on there...again, rafe cameron had class. he had specific tastes and preferences and good god did you meet them all. if he were a lesser man he would've cum the second he saw you were already online and live.

but, he didn't, okay? he has class, remember? he wasn't even the 'pay for pussy' type. not usually...but interacting with ladies was a hit or miss sorta deal— and that wasn't to say he never hit, he could spit game if it came down to it...but girls weren't necessarily a fan of the whole...cokehead...deal, so there's that...

either way, he was glad he had you to turn to when the going got tough. there was nothing like the sound of you fucking yourself dumb on a dildo to ease his mind. the sloppy sounds of moaning and— panting, and whining like you couldn't take it. rafe knew that was a damn lie, he's seen enough of your content to know that, and he'd bet cold hard cash that you'd take him like the goddamn angel you are, lord knows he's got plenty of it to spare. perks of being a cameron, am i right?

he'd empty his fuckin' pockets just to see you bent over his bed, taking his cock like the good little slut you are. just the idea of it, it made his eyes roll back while his hips snapped upward again, and again, and again. his hand forming a tight fist for his cock to slam into— about as tight as he imagines you to be.

sometimes he wonders if you're a swallower or not, he knows he'd pay you $100 extra just to see you do it though. sue him. he had desires.

desires to see you spread out pretty for him while he thrusts into you all disorganized and reckless. desires to see your lips wrapped around his cock the same way they're wrapped around that dildo you seemed to love so much.

desires to—

“holy— fffuckk yes-”

the sound came out louder than he truly wanted or expected to, and he hopes rose pays it no mind, as thick ropes of white coated his abdomen and knuckles while his body shuddered and his heels dug into his mattress.

he was just so out of it...he just couldn't help himself. he just couldn't think straight. maybe he won't ask barry for the strongest shit he had next time...or maybe he will. who knows?

what he did know though, was that you were getting a nice, fat $300 tip as a thank you for your services. even if you weren't wearing the heart shaped leather garters he loved so much,

all was forgiven whenever it came to you.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ 𝓥: if you stayed till the end of this shit show, thank you.

[joyfulwinnerdonut]

Football!Bo’s family life was so good, healthy, and wholesome because I wanted her to have a nice period in her life where she was stable and as normal as a gay millionaire celebrity monster with 7 kids can be. No crime except maybe minor shoplifting! Her kids were mostly pretty agreeable and REALLY clicked with her style of parenting, they all never doubted her love for them and she was very supportive and understanding. They could go to her for advice and she actually gave sound reasonings, when usually she would advocate for like murder. For once in her life she got to old age as mostly human, her hair turned grey and she got (minor) aches and pains and absolutely loved every second of it. She hoped she’d die as human and that would be permanent, unfortunately all good things come to an end and she had to watch her husband and kids die and break away from her grandchildren permanently (they thought she long since passed but she had a distant cousin persona).

...(Read More)

[sulumuns-dootah]

What WHB characters would wear in the human world: Abyssos

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

At first wasn't exactly sure what this chaotic king would wear

But then it struck me, that this snacc would deff embrace that bisexual underboob he's got going on in his selfie card

Also a lot of funny and ironic prints (so relatable - I have a whole pinboard on pinterest of them)

   ༺☆༻

Even in human world, Bael can't help himself but to try and keep up with Beel's fashion

But you'd never see him in as much revealing outfits

Also the funny prints are less unhinged

   ༺☆༻

Dead Poets Society coded

Carpe Diem; O Captain! My captain! and all that

The epitome of Dark Academia right here

I mean, he's literally called The Class President

Lots of dog symbolism and long coats

   ༺☆༻

Ah, our little edgy man

The embodiment of everyone's teenage angst

Ripped jeans, band tees, maybe even a leather jacket bc he's tough?

(Oh boy, this description just reminded me of puppycat ^^)

   ༺☆༻

Some of ya'll are gonna hate me for this, but Amon to me looks like he'd enjoy e-boy clothes

The whole 'I'm edgy but actually really sweet and sensitive inside' aesthetic

I've also read some fic on ao3 where he was a guitarist in a band and I absolutely agree with that, so I'm making it part of this hc too

[caffedrine]

Yves Kloss - Beyond the Connection Between the Past and the Present – Event Translation

A big thank you to @candied-boys for providing a recording of the event.

This is a poor attempt at a fan translation, so take everything with a grain of salt. For a better translation, buy this when it comes out on the ENG server.

The first thing I saw when I woke up was not my beloved fiancé, but a sleeping face of a child who looked just like Yves.

Emma: “... Looks like a doll.”

Yves: “No, this isn’t the time to be entranced! It’s an emergency!”

Emma: “Ah, you’re right. I can’t get lost in how cute he is.”

Yves: “Wait, this child’s clothes... Ah, they’re the clothes I wore when I was a child!”

Yves: “Since they were made by my nanny, there should only be one in the world.”

Emma: “So that means, rather than resembling you... Could it be that this is you as a child?”

Yves: “For now, when this child wakes up, let’s ask their name and why they are here.”

??? “Mmm...”

Emma & Yves: “!!”

??? “Huh, is it morning already...?”

Emma, Yves & ???: “...”

??? “............”

(Oh. Their eyes are glistening—)

??? “Ugh, waaaaaah, a suspicious person......!!!”

Yves: “Quiet... That’s not a voice to hear in the morning!”

(A vibrant crying voice that could burst my eardrums... This isn’t a dream!)

Yves: “I’ll stop him from crying. We’ll talk after that!”

One hour later—

??? “Ugh, uuu... sniff”

(Phew, phew... how tough.)

Yves: “Hey, if you have a face that looks like mine, you should stop crying by now. You're a boy, right!”

??? “Waaa... This big brother is a... a suspicious person... ugh, waaaaaah.”

Emma: “Yves, come on! You’re just scaring them with that kind of remark!”

Yves: “It’s just that it feels like I’m looking at my past self, and I feel like my dark history is being exposed!”

Yves (as a child): “sniff... Is your name also Yves?”

Emma: “So, your name is Yves too!?”

Yves (as a child): “Eeep...”

Emma: “Oh, I’m sorry for raising my voice. You got surprised, right? It’s okay, it’s not scary!”

(If the name is the same, then the theory about Yves as a child might be correct.)

Yves (as a child): “Ugh, ueeeh...”

(Still, it's been about an hour, and though I’m trying to comfort them, they’re still scared.)

(Ugh... this is quietly painful.)

Yves (as a child): “...”

(? What happened? Suddenly quiet...)

(Oh, they’re getting closer.)

Yves (as a child): “Are you really... not a suspicious person?”

Yves: "Of course. We’re confused too. When I woke up, you were sleeping next to me in bed."

Yves (as a child): "I see... I'm sorry."

Emma: "Huh?"

Yves (as a child): "I was trying to explain, but I was scared the whole time and ended up crying."

Emma: "No, you don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be surprised if they woke up to a stranger."

Emma: "But thank you for believing us, little Yves."

Emma: "My name is Emma."

Yves (as a child): "Nice to meet you, Sister Emma... I’m Yves."

Yves (as a child): "... (fidgets)"

(Is he shy? How cute.)

(He stopped crying, probably because he noticed that I was feeling down.)

(If this really is Yves as a child, he must have always been sensitive and kind to the nuances of feelings...)

Yves: "...."

Emma: "Ah! Yves, you suddenly pinched my cheek!"

Yves: "Your cheeks have been drooping since earlier, so I fixed them. You should be grateful."

Emma: "Thank you...? "

Yves: "Hmph."

(He’s acting like a grumpy cat.)

Yves: "Hey, why are you in this room?"

Yves (as a child): "This is my room... Huh? But it looks similar, yet at a closer look, it’s different..."

(Oh no, his eyes are welling up again... If he cries any more, they’ll puff up!)

Emma: "It’s okay! I’m sure if time passes, you’ll be able to return to your original room. Can we stay together until then?"

Yves (as a child): "... Is it really okay?"

Yves: "We’re not the kind of people to abandon a child."

Yves (as a child): "Ah, thank you... I’m scared when I’m alone, so I want to be together."

(Wow, his small hand is holding onto my sleeve tightly... How cute.)

(....Back then, Yves was resented as someone of mixed blood from two nations...)

("I’m scared when I’m alone”... This carries a different meaning than just the typical loneliness children feel.)

(Thinking that, I want to stay together even more.)

Emma & Yves (as a child): "Ah..."

Yves: "That’s quite a loud stomach growl for the morning. And it's a double growl."

Emma & Yves (as a child): "... Hehe."

Yves: "Well, it can't be helped... First things first, we need to have breakfast. I’ll specially prepare breakfast for you."

Later . . .

Emma & Yves (as a child): "Wow... that was delicious."

Yves (as a child): "Big Brother Yves, you’re really good at cooking!"

Emma: "That's right! He can even make sweets and sew clothes too!"

Yves (as a child): "That’s amazing..."

Emma: "Yeah, Yves is amazing! My proud fiancé!"

Yves: "Hehe, that’s just normal for me."

Yves: "Here, enjoy the dessert too."

Emma & Yves (as a child): "Wow, it looks delicious...!"

(It's orange mousse. It's so beautiful that it seems like a waste to eat it.)

Yves (as a child): "... I want to become a magnificent prince who’s told how amazing he is."

Emma: "You can definitely become that, little Yves!"

Yves (as a child): "Really? Is that true?"

Emma: "Yes, it’s true."

(Because the Yves I met is like that.)

(Despite having a painful past where he was resented, he persevered and worked hard for his people to protect the kingdom.)

Emma: "And that feeling of sincerely thinking someone is amazing,"

Emma: "will become a great power that pushes you to try hard."

Emma: "I'll also cheer for you a lot so that you can become an amazing prince, too."

Yves (as a child): "Big sister Emma... ah, thank you."

Yves: "...."

Yves: "Alright, enough chatting. My special mousse is getting tired of waiting."

Emma: "Hehe, that’s true. Then..."

(Huh, there’s no mousse in front of Yves. Could it be that he made it for just the two of us to share?)

(If that’s the case...)

Emma: "Yves, should we share it?"

Yves: "Is that okay? Then I’ll take just one bite."

Emma: "I’ll give you the special service of feeding you. Okay, say ahh~."

Yves: "Seriously, you say things like that without a hint of embarrassment."

(But he opens his mouth obediently, and he doesn’t seem to mind.)

Yves (as a child): "....."

Emma: "Hmm? What’s wrong, little Yves?"

Yves (as a child): "Big sister Emma, I’ll give you a bite."

Emma: "Really? Is that okay?"

(Maybe he wanted to mimic me?)

Yves (as a child): "Here, say ahh~."

Emma: "Thank you. Then I'll take you up on that...."

Yves: "...... (om-nom...)"

Emma & Yves (as a child): "Ah...." "Oh!"

Yves: "...... (chew chew)"

Yves (as a child): "Ugh...."

Emma: "Come on, Yves, don’t be so mean."

Emma: "Here, little Yves, I’ll give you a bite. Okay, say ahh~."

Yves (as a child): "Ahh~."

Yves: "...... (nom...)"

Emma & Yves (as a child): "Ah...." "Oh!"

Yves (as a child): "Hey, hey! Don’t interrupt us!"

Yves: "If my fiancée is flirting with someone else, of course I’ll interrupt."

Emma: "Flirting...?"

(Could it be that he pinched my cheek earlier out of jealousy?)

(Feeling happy and cute about the fact that the other person is his childhood self... it makes me want to smile.)

Yves (as a child): "But there’s still mousse left, so next time... Big sister Emma—"

Yves: "Okay, Emma, ahh~."

Emma: "Mmm... delicious! Thank you!"

Yves (as a child): "I was trying to feed you!"

Yves: "Too bad. I was faster."

Yves (as a child): "Uwaah, you’re so mean! Mean fiancé!"

Yves: "Always."

(It feels like I’m caught between two angels.)

(I wonder if ‘sacred’ is what they mean by this moment...)

As I watched the arguing angels, I savored the rare happiness of being alone—.

[tojiphile]

JJK MEN + SUBMISSIVE & BREEDABLE (PT.1)

a/n. jjk brainrot. i got a lil carried away and made them longer than expected so i split this into two parts… sob. part 2 will be up soon! comments appreciated <3

cw/ tw. dom f!reader, submissive men, bondage/rope, blindfolds, begging, overstimulation, teasing, praising, breeding, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex

GOJO SATORU + BDSM !

“look at you, all tied up.” you stand back, admiring your handiwork. red rope bound satoru’s slender figure, tight enough that, if he moved, red marks would line his body tomorrow. of course, the faux god isn’t really trapped. if he really wanted to, he can get out of this predicament. you know, though, that he won’t. he likes this too much.

he whimpers, pretty cock untouched, flushing red and throbbing. your fingers graze down his body and he arches into your touch, desperate for more. his breath goes ragged as you reach his pelvis, but you stop before touching him where he do fervently needed it. “please…” he begs, under his breath.

you hum, “have you been good?” he nods, eyes squeezed shut. a tear slips past his blindfold, and you laugh lightly, teasing him, “you cryin’?”

without warning, your cool hand wraps around his thick cock. he lets out a gasp, every cell in his body sensitive to your touch. you start moving, pace quick and relentless, giving him no time to adjust to the sudden affection. hot angry tears spill down his face, “t- too much!”

you raise your brows, hands not slowing down. “but baby, you asked for this.”

GETO SUGURU + PRAISE !

you run your fingers through suguru’s long hair as he kneels between your legs, willing for you to let him move. his eyes are blown out, mouth hanging open like he’s a starving man. he can see your heat, smell your scent, and god, what he would give to just get a little taste.

he looks so gorgeous like this. as he gazes up at you with adoration, cheeks flushed red, you can’t help but fall in love with the man even more. at home, the tough exterior he displays the world falls away and he’s putty in your hands.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” you coo, running a finger along his jawline, “don’t you know that?” he whines, shaking his head, eyes shutting in embarrassment. you tsk, leaning up to squeeze his face between your palms, kissing his cheeks between words, “my precious, pretty boy. my kind, thoughtful, smart boy.”

you lay back down, “tell me you’re pretty.” he shakes his head, burying it between your thighs. you pull away, causing him to whimper. “you can taste me…” his eyes light up, “…when you tell me you’re pretty.”

he flushes an even deeper shade of red. “i..” he gets out, hesitantly.

“go on.”

“i’m… pretty.”

you can’t help but smile seeing his head hanging in embarrassment, ears burning. “that’s right,” you push your hips towards his face, “can my pretty boy take care of me?”

he nods earnestly, hands moving to grip your waist. licking his lips, he buries his head between your thighs once more, working to please your pretty cunt.

FUSHIGURO TOJI + BREEDING KINK !

toji’s aching cock buries itself deep as you ride him like a bitch in heat, tits bouncing obscenely. a large hand on your hip assists your movement while the other runs up and down your body, groping at your flesh.

his gaze is fiery with carnal desire, consuming you whole just with his eyes. “’m close,” he grunts, “gotta pull out.”

he tries to sit up, but you push him back down roughly, your hand resting firmly on his abs, as you continue to fuck yourself on his thick cock that threatens to spill any second now.

“wha- what’re you doing?” a rare moment of shock from the normally stern, stoic man. a small smile plays at your lips after hearing him stutter. you collect yourself, doe eyes round with a feigned innocence.

“daddy,” your mouth finds his ear and you whisper, “let’s give ‘gumi a little brother.”

in all your time with toji, he’s never shown you any sign of weakness. he fucks with unwavering dominance, throwing you around like a rag doll, his handsome face never contorting, always serious, determined, as if completing some sort of mission. but here, his brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth open in an ‘o’ shape, he almost looks… cute.

he mutters something under his breath. you find balance in gripping his tousled hair, grinding down on him, “what’d you say?”

“don’t…” he grits his teeth, “…say that.”

you can tell he’s close by the way his stomach tenses. “c’mon, daddy, wanna be a mommy.” toji covers his face with his hands, letting out a small whine, and the unfamiliar noise eggs you on even more.