#so he just sort of assumed how small he is

[buckets-and-trees]

boop Minotaur!Bucky on his lil snout

How about a birthday boop?

Arrangement

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Minotaur!Bucky x curvy!Millennial Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson. Now that you've agreed to your fate, what comes next? SEQUEL TO SACRIFICIAL

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK themes: lulled into a trap, human offering, willing but dubious consent, "no choice" consent to be kidnapped/taken; explicit smut: vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse and ejaculation, rough fucking; use of pet name: lamb/little lamb; slightly possessive behavior; praise kink; dirty talk; size kink; terato/monster fucking

Notes: Well, well, well... if it isn't the return of the mysterious Minotaur!Bucky who it's been so long since I've written or even mentioned him that nearly everyone gave up and stopped asking... BUT FOR MY BEST FRIEND FOR HER BIRTHDAY? I simply had to! So, birthday boops to @vonalyn!

Additional Notes: Part of the the Valentine Storygrams and also a humble offering for @the-slumberparty's Year of the Snake challenge.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You awoke with a start, disoriented and groggy. The first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you - a plush bed covered in silken sheets. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you realized you were in a spacious room with wooden walls and many windows that opened up to trees. It was twilight, and if you weren’t mistaken, you were in some kind of tree house.

Attempting to stretch, you found your movements restricted. Looking down, you saw your arms bound in front of you with wide silk ribbons, woven up and down your forearms. Your legs were similarly bound, ribbons banding your thighs together and encircling your ankles. The bindings were snug but not painfully tight, allowing some movement while keeping you securely restrained. The rest of you was still laid bare after the beast had rid you of the lingerie the villagers had offered you up with as their sacrifice.

You closed your eyes again, your mind flitting back through the ordeal of being prepared as a sacrificial lamb to slake some need the minotaur had - initially it was a primal one, clearly, but some of what was said had you suspecting there was more to it than that.

A rustle of movement behind you caught your attention. Turning your head, you saw the minotaur - Bucky - shuffling through some boxes.

You watched Bucky silently for a few moments, taking in his massive form as he sorted through what appeared to be your belongings. The large shipping crate and traveling bag you'd packed for your supposed research trip were there, along with some unfamiliar packages.

"You're awake," he rumbled, not turning to look at you. "I was beginning to worry you weren’t as sturdy as I’d assumed and I'd been too rough with you earlier."

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Your mind was still reeling from everything that had happened.

Bucky finally turned, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. He approached the bed slowly, his massive form looming over you. "How are you feeling, little lamb?"

You tugged lightly at your bindings. "A bit... restrained."

He chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. His large hand came to rest on your thigh, thumb stroking the silk ribbon there. "Just a precaution, for now. Wouldn't want you wandering off and getting lost in the jungle."

"Where are we?" you asked. “What's happening? Where am I?"

Bucky's lips curled into a small smile. "So many questions, little lamb. I suppose that's to be expected from a scientist." His hand continued its gentle caress of your thigh, the touch both soothing and unsettling.

"We're in the heart of the jungle," he said, gesturing to the windows. "Deep in the Ecuadorian Amazon, just as your research grant promised. Though the exact coordinates aren't quite what you were led to believe."

You craned your neck to look out the nearest window. The lush canopy of trees stretched as far as you could see, an endless sea of green. Colorful birds flitted between branches, their calls mingling with the constant hum of insects and the occasional distant noises of other unseen creatures.

"This treehouse," Bucky continued, "is my home. And now, it's yours too.”

You glanced around the treehouse again, taking in more details. The walls were adorned with an eclectic mix of items: shelves of books, strange artifacts that looked ancient, but there were also modern touches like solar-powered lanterns.

"But where exactly-" you began, only to be cut off by Bucky.

“I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky stood, moving to one of the windows. His massive form filled the window frame as he gazed out at the darkening jungle. "Even if I told you our exact location, it wouldn't matter. This place is not on any map. The jungle here is ancient, wild, and unforgiving."

He turned back to you, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light. "The trees themselves seem alive, their roots shifting beneath the earth, changing paths and landmarks. Compasses spin uselessly, their needles drawn to some unseen magnetic force deep within the earth. GPS signals can't penetrate the dense canopy."

You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, his voice low and ominous. "And that's just the beginning. The jungle is beautiful, but it's also deadly. Poisonous frogs with skin that can kill you with a single touch. Jaguars that hunt in the night, silent and lethal. Quicksand that can swallow you whole before you even realize you're sinking."

He moved closer to the bed, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting. "And those are just the natural dangers. There are other measures I've implemented. Traps that even the most experienced hunters wouldn't detect. Pitfalls lined with venomous snakes. Invisible trip wires that trigger darts coated with poisons.”

Bucky's voice softened as he continued, "But those traps aren't for you, little lamb. They're to keep others out, to protect us. I've spent decades perfecting these defenses, ensuring our sanctuary remains undisturbed."

He sat back down on the bed, his weight causing you to shift slightly towards him. "I don't want you to feel trapped or like you need to escape. But make no mistake, you will be in danger if you try to escape, and I will not be happy with you if it comes to that,” he declared, his voice and his eyes growing colder for a moment.

Then his large hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek, and his voice softened again. "But you'll have everything you need to do your research, as outlined in the terms of the agreement you signed. I've prepared a state-of-the-art lab for you, filled with equipment that would make your former university colleagues green with envy. There are specimens here that have never been catalogued, flora with properties that could revolutionize medicine."

He gestured to a corner of the treehouse you hadn't noticed yet. "That's your lab."

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight. It was a fully equipped botanical research station, with microscopes, gene sequencers, and other high-tech equipment you'd only dreamed of having access to. Shelves lined the walls, ready to be filled with any and all kinds of specimens.

Bucky watched your reaction closely, a small smile playing on his lips. "I see that spark in your eyes, little lamb. Your passion for your work is part of why I chose you."

As you continued to look at the lab, your mind reeled with the possibilities. Despite the circumstances, a part of you thrilled at the prospect of studying undiscovered species, of making groundbreaking discoveries. Your eyes darted from one piece of equipment to another, recognizing some and marveling at others you'd only read about in cutting-edge journals.

Bucky's voice pulled you back again from your scientific reverie. "You'll have everything you need here, little lamb. I'll take care of you."

His massive hand trailed down your arm, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "And in return, you'll take care of me as well."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "What... what do you mean by taking care of you?"

A slow smile spread across Bucky's face, his eyes darkening with desire. “You know exactly what I mean, clever scientist.”

His large hand slid down your body, tracing the curves of your breasts and stomach before coming to rest between your thighs. You shivered at his touch, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you.

"You'll satisfy my needs," Bucky growled softly, his fingers teasing your sensitive flesh. "Just as you did earlier. But more than that, you'll be my companion. My partner in this isolated paradise."

He reached for a knife that had been bound to his enormous bicep, then sliced through the ribbons binding your legs. You sighed in relief to have mobility of your lower limbs again, but then you gasped as he slipped a finger inside you, your body responding eagerly despite your conflicted emotions.

Bucky's skilled fingers stroked and teased, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Such a responsive little lamb," Bucky purred, his voice deep and filled with desire. "Already growing so wet for me."

He withdrew his fingers, leaving you aching for more. With an attempted gentleness he didn’t fully have for his massive size, he rolled you onto your stomach. "Up on your knees," he commanded, guiding your hips upward.

You complied, trembling slightly as you rose to your knees, your bound arms supporting your upper body. The silk sheets beneath you were cool against your heated skin.

Bucky's large hands grasped your hips, positioning you how he wanted. "Wider," he growled, nudging your thighs further apart. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet a thrill of anticipation coursed through you.

Bucky lowered himself to kneel on the floor behind you, his massive form still towering over your prone figure on the bed. His large hands spread your thighs even wider, exposing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. You shivered as you felt his hot breath ghost over your sensitive flesh.

Without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. You gasped at the sensation, your hips instinctively pushing back against his face. His tongue was larger than a human's, rough and textured in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you with each pass.

Bucky growled appreciatively at your reaction, the vibrations adding another layer of stimulation. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he began to explore your folds in earnest. Bucky's ministrations were methodical, almost clinical. He lapped at your entrance, probing your entrance with deliberate, teasing strokes.

He explored every fold and crevice, mapping out your most intimate areas with meticulous attention. His rough tongue rasped against your sensitive flesh, sending shivers up your spine. You could feel the slight scrape of his teeth against your outer labia as he worked, adding a thrilling edge of danger to the pleasure. He alternated between broad, flat strokes that covered your entire sex and pointed, precise flicks that targeted your clit.

Your thighs began to tremble as the pleasure built, and Bucky's tongue only delved deeper. He lapped at your entrance, circling teasingly before plunging inside. The rough texture of his tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body as he fucked you with it, pushing in and out with increasing intensity.

His large hands kneaded your ass cheeks, spreading them wider to give him better access. You could feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin, punctuated by occasional grunts and growls of satisfaction. The vibrations from his vocalizations added another layer of sensation, making you tremble and moan.

Bucky's tongue was relentless, probing deeper than you thought possible. It curled and flexed inside you, reaching spots you didn't even know existed. Just as you were teetering on the edge of release, Bucky suddenly withdrew his tongue. You whimpered at the loss, your hips instinctively pushing back, seeking more.

"Not yet, little lamb," Bucky rumbled, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

You felt the bed shift as he stood, his massive form looming over you once more. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your entrance, already slick from his ministrations. He'd prepared you much more thoroughly earlier, and you had to acknowledge your cunt still felt a pleasurable ache from the earlier fucking, but you tensed slightly at the prospect of taking his enormous cock again.

Bucky sensed your apprehension and ran a soothing hand down your back. "Relax, little lamb. Your body was made to take me."

He began to push inside, the thick head of his cock stretching you open. You keened at the intrusion, your body struggling to accommodate his size. But Bucky didn’t move slowly, only smoothly, forcing your cunt to accommodate as he sank deeper.

"That's it," he growled, his voice strained. "Open up for me."

You whined, head dropping forward as Bucky's massive cock stretched you to your limits, sinking deeper, inch by agonizing inch. The burn of the stretch mingled with the pleasure, creating a heady mix of sensations that left you gasping and trembling. Your fingers clawed at the silk sheets, seeking something to anchor you as Bucky's relentless invasion continued.

"So tight," Bucky groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Your tight pussy is squeezing me so perfectly, so desperately, lamb."

You felt impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with his enormous length. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Bucky's hips finally met your ass, signaling he was fully seated within you. He held still for a blessed moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Good girl," he purred, one large hand stroking down your spine. He rutted his hips against you slowly for a moment, back and forth, the coarse hair over his lower body so foreign and unexpected against your smooth skin.

His large hands went back to gripping your hips, and he began to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with force.

The pace he set then was relentless. Each powerful thrust drove the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and clutching at the sheets. The sound of your bodies slapping against each other filled the room, punctuated by your breathless cries and Bucky's deep grunts.

Bucky's powerful thrusts drove you forward, your bound arms struggling to keep you upright. Each time he bottomed out inside you, it felt like he was reaching impossible depths, touching places within you that had never been reached before. The stretch and fullness were overwhelming, bordering on painful, yet your body sang with pleasure.

His massive hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he used his preternatural strength to pull you back onto his cock with each thrust. The force of his movements made your breasts sway beneath you, nipples grazing against the silken sheets with delicious friction.

"Such a greedy little cunt," Bucky growled, his voice rough with lust. "Taking me so well, like you were made for minotaur cock."

You moaned in response, beyond words as the pleasure built within you. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body with each powerful thrust.

Your entire world narrowed down to the sensations Bucky was eliciting from your body. The stretch and fullness of his massive cock, the bruising grip of his hands on your hips, the coarse fur of his lower body rubbing against your thighs - it was all overwhelming in its intensity.

Bucky's pace increased, his thrusts becoming more frantic. You could feel the tension building in your core, a coiling pressure that threatened to snap at any moment. Your bound arms gave out, and you collapsed onto your chest, face pressed into the silken sheets as Bucky continued to pound into you from behind.

Bucky leaned over you, his massive chest pressing against your back. The heat radiating from his body enveloped you, his musky scent filling your nostrils. You felt small and fragile beneath him, completely at his mercy.

"That's it, little lamb," Bucky growled in your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck. "Take every inch of me. You're mine now, and I'm going to fill you up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your inner walls clench around his massive length. The added pressure seemed to drive Bucky wild. He reared back, gripping your hips once more as he started to rut into you with renewed vigor.

"Fuck," he growled. "So tight. So perfect. Gonna fill you up, breed you full of my seed."

The primal nature of his words should have frightened you, but instead, they sent a thrill of arousal through your body. Your mind was hazy with pleasure, rational thought long since abandoned. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensations Bucky was eliciting from your body.

Bucky's thrusts became erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared his peak. One of his large hands snaked around your body, thick fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubbed it in tight circles, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me, little lamb," he growled, his voice strained. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock."

His words and the relentless stimulation of your clit were too much. With a keening cry, you tumbled over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of intense pleasure. Your inner walls clamped down on Bucky's massive length, pulsing and squeezing as your body shook with release.

Bucky roared as your climax triggered his own. He slammed into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he began to pump you full of his cum. You could feel the hot spurts deep inside you, seeming endless as he continued to grind his hips against yours. His massive body shuddered above you, his grip on your hips tightening to a painful degree.

As the waves of your orgasm began to subside, you became acutely aware of just how much of Bucky's seed was filling you. The sheer volume was overwhelming, and you could feel it starting to leak out around his still-hard cock, dripping down your thighs.

Bucky remained buried inside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. One of his large hands stroked down your spine, almost soothingly. "Good girl," he murmured.

Bucky's large body draped over yours, pushing you flat against the mattress, his chest heaving against your back as he caught his breath. The weight of him should have been crushing, but somehow it felt right, like a heavy blanket of security enveloping you. His cock remained buried deep inside you, still twitching slightly with aftershocks.

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky slowly lifted himself off you, his softening length slipping free with a wet sound. You whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty and bereft. The overflow of his seed dripped out freely now, and you gasped when his tongue quickly lapped at your mixed spend.

He chuckled, then drew away. “I’ll draw us a bath, and then feed you before putting you to sleep tonight,” he said. And before he walked away, he rolled you on your side, reached for his discarded knife, and released your arms.

You winced and began to rub at your arms. You wanted to sit up, but your body was too spent.

He leaned down over your shoulder and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to your temple. “I’ll always take care of you, little lamb,” he vowed - and you still didn’t know yet whether to deem it as a threat or a promise.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: More Than Enough

Marshall had been deep in album mode for weeks now, and you understood. You always understood. When he was in that space, nothing else existed—not time, not sleep, not food unless you physically put it in front of him.

But what you hadn’t expected was how his team would start leaning on you.

At first, it was small things—grabbing coffee, handling small errands, answering calls when Marshall was too busy. You didn’t mind helping. But then it became more.

"Hey, can you run out and grab lunch for everyone?"

"Mind handling the studio schedule? Paul’s swamped."

"Can you make sure the deliveries get sorted? We’re behind on inventory."

And it wasn’t just errands—it was the dismissive way they spoke to you, like you were supposed to do these things. Like you were just there to help them.

Like you weren’t his wife.

The first few times, you brushed it off. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Marshall was in his creative zone. You didn’t want to bother him with stupid complaints when he was making something brilliant.

But after a while, it started to weigh on you.

You weren’t just being helpful—you were being used.

And the worst part? Marshall didn’t notice.

He barely even looked at you most days, too caught up in the music, scribbling in notebooks, pacing the room while he worked through lyrics. You were just there, silent and waiting.

So you stopped going.

You didn’t make a big deal out of it—you just found excuses. Told him you had things to do at home, or that you didn’t want to get in the way. And at first, he didn’t seem to notice.

Until today.

Marshall came home earlier than usual, his hoodie slung low over his face, his hands in his pockets. He found you curled up on the couch, watching some random show you weren’t even paying attention to.

"You mad at me?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

He sat down on the armrest, facing you. "You’re mad," he repeated. "You haven’t been at the studio all week."

You shrugged, looking away. "Just needed a break."

His eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

You sighed, your fingers tightening around the blanket in your lap. "It’s nothing, Marshall."

"Obviously, it’s something." His voice was sharp now, frustration creeping in. "Talk to me."

You hesitated. "It’s just… your team. They—" You swallowed, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "They kind of use me for shit."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Like, I get it, you’re busy, but they just assume I’ll do things. Errands, scheduling, handling stupid crap they don’t want to deal with. And I didn’t say anything because you were working, and I didn’t want to bother you with—"

Marshall stood up so fast the armrest shook.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You flinched. "Marshall—"

"Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?" His voice was low and dangerous now, his fists clenching at his sides. "They’ve been using you?"

You bit your lip. "I didn’t want to be a distraction."

His head snapped toward you, eyes flashing. "You think you’re a distraction?"

You looked down. "I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it."

Marshall let out a sharp breath, running a hand over his face before crouching in front of you. He reached for your hands, prying them away from the blanket.

"You’re my wife," he said firmly. "Not their assistant. Not their goddamn secretary. Mine."

Your chest tightened. "I know, but—"

"No." His grip on your hands tightened. "No buts. You don’t hide shit like this from me, you hear me?" His voice softened, but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. "You don’t just deal with it alone."

You swallowed, guilt creeping in. "I didn’t know how to bring it up."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Baby, you don’t gotta know how. You just gotta say it."

You nodded slowly, and Marshall stood, pulling you up with him before wrapping his arms around you.

His chin rested on your head, and his voice rumbled against your hair.

"They’re gonna learn real fucking quick who they’re dealing with."

You smiled into his chest, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift off your shoulders.

Marshall wasn’t just listening now—he was handling it.

[halcyon-writings]

nav.

; vague descriptions of a panic attack/the aftermath of one, hurt/comfort (very few spoilers for his second myth)

— It doesn’t come to you as some sort of revelation, nor as any sort of spiritual experience. Instead it comes over you like a rushing wave, and all you can do is try and brace yourself before it crashes over you.

Sylus is no light sleeper. His arm is protectively around your waist as his back faces the bedroom door. You know it’s more for his sanity than anything, in the off chance that if someone even made it past the security of this home, then he could field the blows. His nose is squished against your cheek as the usually more nocturnal man snores without any hesitation.

You almost feel bad for being the cause of disturbance to his peaceful sleep, if it weren't for the fact that you were too focused on not falling on your own self as you shoot up from the bed with a sharp gasp, a hand over your heart.

Immediately he is wide awake as well, only this time a hand is cautiously raised towards the doorframe, having assumed that someone was there. Wisps of red and black swirling energy surround his fingers, before confusion sets in. His brow furrowed becomes more confused than perturbed. What just...?

"What happened? What's wrong?" You hear him sound so distant, even as Sylus is right next to you. A hand gently tilts your chin upwards. As your eyes, unfocused and dazed, move about the room in a panic.

His blood coats your hands. Blood? Your hands, as they tremble, sinking the blade further into his chest- his heart. And yet, he looks at you like he loves you; like he forgives you.

His lips part, blood dribbling from his lips as a clawed hand cups your cheek, A thumb wipes away tears you didn't even notice that began falling. You beg for him to save his breath, that if he did, he could somehow save himself.

Then nothingness, you're alone in an empty field, flowers are dying, the earth is cracking beneath you. You begin to wish you had been taken with him.

You feel an uncomfortable tightness in your chest as though you were the one that had gotten stabbed, your trembling hands clutch the blanket that fell to your lap, but they weren't bloody. Lips parting and closing, like some kind of attempt to take a breath to steady yourself. Yet you are not falling, you're not even moving.

"-you alright?" His voice sounds far away, and yet the familiar red irises that you've seen soften with amusement at your antics, suddenly sharpen with narrowed focus. But it is not an upset expression, not upset with you.

Unsure of how long you're simply staring at the wall, eventually you feel yourself nodding. But Sylus is not convinced. His hands cup your cheeks, his palms are calloused from the years of his work, to things you haven’t uncovered yet., but they’re no less warm.

And then you choke out a name. One he would never have thought he’d hear again.

Staryus.

His eyes grow wide. You hear his breathing catch, and for a moment you think you’ve said something wrong.

But then his expression softens, the creases in the corners of his eyes begin to melt, as his hands remain on your face.

“Well,” Sylus says, sounding more choked off than what you’ve ever heard him say before. “You always know just how to surprise me.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. And eventually, he joins you too.

[lightlycareless]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8L9nuR5/

I saw this and I thought what if something similar happened with Naomi and Naoya while he played the piano for her 🥺 Do you think Naoya would play frequently for his kids?

Heya anon!

Awww, this is so cute 😭😭😭 AND YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS he would!!!! Of course!!!! akghagkaga ok let's get to the good part.

warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya have 4 kids. a happy marriage do not come for me

Happy reading!

Undoubtedly, Naoya plays the piano to his kids.

But it wasn’t like that in the beginning; in fact, he was quite unsure if his kids would find enjoyment in something he once considered tedious. Weren’t children supposed to be all for energetic, exhausting activities?

However, Naoya’s quickly proven wrong after you encourage him enough to consider otherwise: you just had to tell him it would be another excellent opportunity to bond, get to know him a bit better, and of course, show off just how cool their papa is (once again).

“You think they’d like it?” Naoya quietly asks one last time, just to be sure. “I do not wish to bore them, I’d rather—.”

“Of course they will. They’re my kids.” You smile, referring to the day he serenaded you when feeling under the weather. Naoya could be extremely romantic when it came to it, holding this moment very dearly in your heart.

So, taking that into consideration, it was safe to assume they would love it too.

Besides, it wasn’t that hard to please your kids when considering just how happy they were to spend time with their often-absent father. The same man that always went above and beyond to make up for all the time days he’s missed when away for work, thus, an opportunity they could not dare waste.

And Naoya loved every single one of those moments too, he really did. To be with his children earned him a kind of fulfillment no title, nor promotion, or successful mission could ever provide!

… But spending time with them while playing the piano, though, might just be the exception.

Sure, he loved seeing their starstruck faces whenever showing what a particularly talented musician he was (just like in everything else he put his mind into), followed by their chubby little hands trying to jump from one octave to the other, earning him the title of giant! And why are your hands so big? And of course, watching them to play along him…

Yet, those moments became scarce once they found out they could use him as their own personal musician, someone they could dump all their song requests, and he had no other choice but to oblige. From the theme song of their favorite tv show, to whatever tune crossed their mind, Naoya became the kind of dejected servant that would place all his efforts to fulfill their every whim.

Even going as far as agreeing to join their small band of sorts, one that seemed to run on a tight schedule when it came to rehearsals (Rehearsals!!) evenfor such a casual thing.

“Come on, papa!! We have to practice if we want to get the song right this time!!” Naori exclaimed, grabbing him by the hand and running towards the studio. Naoya… well, he didn’t have many options, did he?

“Did you practice?” Naoko asks. “Because last time you got all the notes wrong, and that's unacceptable!”

His children were undoubtedly taking this activity far more seriously than anything else they’ve indulged in the past, and Naoya didn’t know whether to be impressed by their dedication, or slightly concerned…

But he supposes it wasn’t all too bad. Not when he still got to see their big, round eyes slowly growing heavy once their exuberant rehearsals began to take a toll on them, falling victim to his calming music that lulled them to instinctively gather around the couch, lay down, and finally fall asleep.

A smile can’t help but part his lips, admiring the sight of his tired yet well cared for children, and all that it represented on a bigger scale.

“I guess they do like it when I play the piano.” Naoya murmurs to you after putting the kids to bed.

“How couldn’t they? It’s their loving papa who’s playing for them!” you smile, standing on your toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “But as much as I enjoy seeing all of you get along, I still gotta talk to them about cutting you some slack, you don’t look too… well when you’re done.”

“Whatever gave you that idea? I’m fine!” He asks, perhaps genuinely oblivious of the bags forming underneath his eyes, or the occasional twitching of his left eyelid. Is this the first time the great Naoya Zen’in has ever faced the possibility of disappointing his children?

Certainly so, but, well—such are the joys of parenthood.

🥹🥹🥹 naoya would play to little naomi when she was a baby, you'd just carry her while she's all fuzzy, unable to sleep, and then your husband starts playing and she's completely knocked out. 😭😭😭it's the domestic things y'all....

Anyways, I hope you were able to enjoy this little thing hehe. I'm trying to write more of the rest of the kids you two have, not that I don't loooove Naomi, but I think the others deserve a bit of the spotlight 🙈

Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[tobyisave]

Character analysis: Why does Kokichi lie?

I think lying is more than just a means to an end for Kokichi, so this is my personal understanding of Kokichi's habitual lying, centered on the headcanon that he experiences his own emotions very weakly.

In a vain attempt to make this post more streamlined, I've isolated most textual examples into footnotes at the bottom; probably only read them if you don’t buy what I’m saying in the sentence prior. Lastly, if you disagree with something I say here and choose to make it known: probably read the footnotes first, and regardless please just be nice about it :')

"If I wanna become closer to Shuichi, I probably shouldn't lie so much... But that's my shtick... or more like, my way of life..." (Kokichi's inner thoughts from Salmon Team)

Small lies vs Big lies

To start this off, I need to clarify that there's (at least) two very different kinds of Kokichi lies. First are the “big” lies, like being the mastermind or lies about the nature of DICE. Big lies are consistent, told with a “straight face,” and well thought-out, because they usually serve some kind of strategic purpose [e.g. footnote 1]. But those aren't the kind of lies I'm aiming to explain here, because they're already well discussed and follow a pretty understandable logic.

I'm focusing on what I call "small" or compulsive lies: trivial claims & performed emotions that are usually not believed for long, either because they’re too outlandish or because he or someone else disproves them. For example, sobbing that he hates coffee and then asking for a cup of coffee; or telling the seance participants he's "actually super duper strong," despite knowing full well they're about to watch him struggle to carry the iron cage [more ex. in note 2]. Most of Kokichi's lies fall into this category imo, especially in low-stakes environments like Salmon Team and UTDP. Unlike big lies, "small" lies are somewhat unique to Kokichi, he tells/performs them constantly regardless of context, and they don’t serve a very clear purpose.

Masking

I think Kokichi got very good at performing emotions from a young age in order to mask the fact that he doesn't experience empathy or other emotions very strongly. And maybe that sounds like a very specific headcanon, but just stick with me here... [and/or see note 3 for one line of evidence]. Failing to emote convincingly would’ve not only made it difficult to exist in everyday society, but it probably would’ve put an even bigger target on his back as a criminal, too… So yeah, he learned.

But as it turns out, spending an (admittedly very short) lifetime pretending to have emotions you don’t actually have is a fantastic way to:

Start feeling detached from the people around you,

Start seeing everyone else as suckers for buying it, and

Very quickly lose any moral qualms about lying — after all, people would attack him from every direction if he was honest about his feelings towards them (or lack thereof), so how is it fair that they want to punish him for lying, too? There’s just no winning!

My interpretation boils down to this: Kokichi lies compulsively because he is deeply bored, and the kick he gets out of deceiving people is one of the only things he finds consistently rewarding about talking to them. Most social interactions already feel like lies to him because he is constantly forced to mask, so he might as well tell fun lies about being a supervillain instead of boring, easy lies about wanting to be friends with everyone.

(Continued under the cut)

Not all lies are strategic

I think it's easy to assume at first that the only reason to lie is for some sort of material influence: changing others' behavior or hiding undesirable truths, either for your own selfish gain or the greater good. Definitely, there is a purpose like that for most of Kokichi's "big" lies, and even some of his "small" ones (e.g. the kind of short-lived lies both he and Shuichi tell in order to advance the Class Trials). But even in retrospect, not every lie he tells can be explained with an external motivation like that, selfish OR unselfish.

I think telling "small" lies is more of a habit for Kokichi than a strategic choice, something he can't quit even when it becomes an actively bad strategy (hence "compulsive"). But if you’re already with me on this, feel free to just skip to the next section :P

A. Small lies aren't meant to be believed.

I don't think Kokichi tells lies in order to actually mislead people most of the time — because if he wanted people to believe his small lies, then he wouldn't be constantly retracting them. Many (or even most) of his small lies are soon followed up with “It’s a lie!”, either literally or by demonstrating/implying that it’s untrue [e.g. note 2 again]. [For some possible exceptions to this rule, see note 4].

Fig 1: Kokichi struggling not to give himself away after Monotarou believes his outlandish lie (V3 manga anthology). While I think this instance is a bit exaggerated, it nicely draws attention to the fact that he enjoys revealing his own lies.

By Kokichi's own doing, there is often a net 0 change in what people believe by the time they reach the end of a conversation with him. E.g. Kaede doesn't walk away from their FTE thinking Kokichi is her long-lost companion, Shuichi doesn't walk away from Salmon Team thinking Kokichi is obsessed with dumpster diving, etc. This suggests that Kokichi's not trying to change the perceived truth, he's just interested in the momentary act of tricking people.

B. Kokichi doesn’t tell small lies to alter his social standing, for better OR for worse.

I think the first half of this is self evident — I mean, if he was trying to gain status, he's doing a terrible job! He is aware of what behavior is required to make people like you and listen to you, and he is patently not doing that. 

You might then argue that he’s doing the opposite: intentionally bombing his reputation to build up to Ch.5 so that people would readily believe he’s the mastermind. While I do think his annoying lies ended up helping on that front, I don’t think his mastermind plan is the cause of this behavior, because...

Firstly, we still see him lie constantly in contexts where there's no clear advantage to being hated (UTDP, Salmon Team).

Secondly: Crying wolf is one of many great strategies to make people hate you... but it is a uniquely terrible strategy to make people believe you. If you were really going to create an evil mastermind persona out of thin air, "pretending to be a lying attention-seeker" is just not the most logical way to go about it; that would only make it harder for you to convince people that you're actually being serious when you do the big reveal that you're the mastermind [for a note on Junko, see 5]. That's why I don't think the compulsive liar thing is an act; instead the evil persona we see in game is just the result of leaning into traits people already disliked about him. The reason he tells so many meaningless small lies during the killing game is just that he already was, and is, a compulsive liar.

Again, there are some "big" lies, lies he doesn't go back on, that he tells in order to tank his reputation (e.g. "The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it"). But those big lies aren't enhanced at all by the fact that he walks around telling people the sky is green, you know? That might make people hate him, but it's not the wisest way to do so while still maintaining control over people.

Finally, regarding the argument that he tanks his credibility in order to mask his own emotions, see note [6].

So, with all that said... Why even tell these lies, if they don't give him more control over the situation, his classmates, or the truth?

Boredom

I believe Kokichi’s small lies are primarily driven by boredom. Yes, his complaints of boredom are probably meant to tie him to Junko (narratively) and justify enjoying the killing game. But I do think he’s also genuinely, chronically bored. Just because he doesn’t have vivid emotions doesn’t mean his brain isn’t expecting him to have vivid emotions, if that makes sense, so there’s just a constant lack of stimulus that leaves him restless.

On that note, I think it's difficult for him to maintain interest in everyday conversations. There's not usually a lot at stake for him, because he doesn't feel much about the people around him, and isn't interested in pretending that he does just so they can feel "connected" to a version of him that doesn't actually exist [but see 7].

It doesn't matter to him which path he takes when navigating everyday social interactions, so if he has to get through those interactions anyway, he's going to take the road less traveled. Pointing fingers, confessing to murder, and spontaneously bursting into tears… it’s not usually to accomplish anything in particular. It's more like doing backflips in an empty prison cell: equally as useless as rotting on the floor, but marginally more entertaining.

Fig 2: Kokichi consciously using lies to entertain himself. His dissatisfaction with the lie appears to be unrelated to whether or not it was believed; I suspect this is because the claim was so mundane that convincing Shuichi of it wouldn't have been very impressive in the first place.

But what's actually fun about lying?

I think this constant need for entertainment is what motivates a lot of Kokichi's social behaviors, not just lying. But he clearly has a special relationship with lies in particular. I think this is partially because of his perception of himself as "fake" (in the literal sense), but more importantly because lies are a versatile, challenging, and (relatively) harmless way to get reactions out of people.

Lying poses creative and intellectual challenges: Introducing lies basically doubles the amount of social calculations required to participate in conversation [elaboration in note 8].

Lying creates artificial stakes by reimagining ordinary conversations as competitions. By playing a game of "how many times can I fool this person in one sitting?" he creates an internal motivation to engage in conversation and perform social behaviors convincingly (at least, for short periods of time). External pressures like “being liked” aren’t usually enough to motivate that.

Lying allows him to emotionally occupy extreme scenarios without actually creating extreme scenarios. If he wants to raise tensions high enough that he can actually feel them, lying is one of the less destructive ways to do so, because it's entirely verbal (including body language, that is) and thus avoids material risk/harm. Now that's not to say it doesn't hurt people [e.g. note 9]. In fact, that's often the point; I wouldn't call him a sadist in the traditional sense, but there is something gratifying about triggering twinges of guilt and empathy in yourself if you don't normally have access to those feelings.

All this to say, Kokichi's habitual small lies aren't driven by a desire to create genuine misunderstandings, or to make people do what he wants [note 10]. I think what he actually seeks from social situations is little bursts of catharsis from witnessing other people’s emotions, and the feeling of control or "winning" that comes solely from being able to deceive them and get those reactions. 

Going "it's a lie!" right after is a really important part of this. It's a punchline, a tiny power trip, a kind of "Bingo!" he can use to declare victory. He doesn't necessarily want people to believe what he said, he just wants them to know that he totally got them and he'll do it again. Because what’s even the point of coming up with all these lies if people are just going to believe them and obliviously move on?

Lying as satire

Finally, and I’ll admit my thoughts on this aren’t quite as fleshed out, but I almost imagine Kokichi's lies as a form of satire, given that one of the few things he seems genuinely (?) passionate about is his right to lie. That is to say, it means something to him, in addition to being internally rewarding. He's had to present a false persona of himself from day one, after all — but now that he's a self-proclaimed bad guy, there's a lot less pressure to do it well. Performing those social behaviors in random, nonsensical patterns, and telling lies that feel just as true as the "honest conversation" he's learned to fake... it's like a form of indignant social button-mashing. It doesn't really matter if his performance conveys a coherent image of a person or not, because it was always arbitrary to him in the first place, you know?

….And I think I'm just going to stop myself there before this gets any longer. Tysm for reading!!!! <3

Disclaimer

…Actually that was a lie, let me get on my soapbox real quick. I think it's safe to say this essay hinges on Kokichi having some form of neurodivergence, however you want to label it. Personally I see him as having some antisocial traits, but I didn’t want to make that a silver bullet, and I thought it’d make more sense to just take the specific traits I see in him and work backwards from there. With that in mind, I want to make it abundantly clear that I don’t mean to assign any moral value to emotions. I can’t say this headcanon is entirely based on my own experiences, but there's a reason I connect with it, and I don't think anyone should be judged or labeled inhuman for emotions they do or do not have.

Moreover, while I explicitly take the stance that his emotions are morally neutral, I am explicitly NOT taking a stance on the morality of his behaviors. My intention here was just to explain them logically. Between you and me, just trust that I'm a Kokichi enjoyer and I did my best to consider things from his perspective.

Credits

Game screencaps from justonegamr and JakkHearts on Youtube. Manga screencap from Mangadex.

I also want to plug this analysis by @/g0nta-g0kuhara — I'm honestly not sure how much of my analysis aligns with/borrows from theirs, but it's definitely one of the posts that informs my current understanding of Kokichi, so it'd feel weird not to at least mention it. Consider giving it a read!

Footnotes

These were mostly off the top of my head, so if I got anything wrong, feel free to (again, nicely) point it out ^^;

 “Big lies serve a strategic purpose” Big lies are also what I'd call the "normal" type of lies, just like Maki's Child Caregiver lie, or Komaeda's fake bomb threat — they're meant to be believed and to influence people's decisions. Examples of Kokichi's "big lies": those he tells in order to impersonate the Mastermind (e.g. claiming he loves the killing game); lies to Miu (being oblivious to her murder plot) and Gonta (believing the Killing Game Busters is a good idea) for his Ch.4 scheme, and debatably DICE lies to protect himself and his Ultimate title (though for these I also think he just gets a kick out of trying to juggle such a big lie for so long).

“Small lies” An example of an "emotional" small lie is the times he bursts out crying; he's not necessarily making false claims, but his actions communicate feelings he doesn't have, and most of the time he'll follow up by reverting to a bored expression thus implicitly confessing to the lie. His claim that he can’t taste food is also a pretty good example of a verbal lie: it’s random, difficult to believe, and he immediately follows it up by saying he likes sweet and spicy things. (That last part was definitely intended to imply he was lying, but whether or not he was lying about lying depends on your hc… I personally choose to believe that he has a weak sense of taste and relies on “interesting” textures like carbonation, because I think it parallels my take on his reduced emotions in a fun way.) +++ For further examples, the majority of Kokichi's Salmon Team events are just him spouting random bullshit and then immediately taking it back.

"One line of evidence for reduced empathy/emotions": His thought process often reads to me like someone with low empathy; and his ability to rapidly switch between extreme emotional performances and total flatness suggests that, in his natural form, his internal reactions are either dull or don’t automatically reflect on his face. For example, when Kokichi "gets real" during trials, his expression often goes blank and he comes off as overly blunt/pragmatic (“Everything you said is total BS… You didn't give two shits about Tenko when she was alive." "How do you expect to find the culprit when you're all worried about each other's feelings?" "Why do you guys hate lies so much? […] And some of them are only white lies, or lies to be kind to people…") They're delivered flatly (voice/sprites, and phrasing to a lesser extent) and express frustration with people's hypocrisy around social norms. To me these are moments when he gets so fed up with the social dance taking everyone in circles that he has to step out for a second and drop the mask, even knowing that his true self will make people see him as inhuman. (I probably shouldn’t have to clarify, but for the record I say all this as someone with low empathy myself.) +++++ALSO: I want to credit @/g0nta-g0kuhara's meta for pointing out that Kokichi's expression goes flat in (different) honest moments - linked in credits above - although I ultimately interpret this in a slightly different way for his character.

"Some exceptions to the 'it's a lie' rule": His own thoughts and feelings, which are often kept ambiguous. Lies he doesn't need to retract because they're obviously false ("I hate liars!" or "I was born from the big tree behind Hope's Peak Academy..."). Small *non-compulsive* lies that serve a strategic purpose, like perjury to further the trials (though you could argue these too are "obviously false" and basically retract themselves after a moment of critical thinking; e.g. claiming he killed Angie (ch3), or debatably telling Himiko she mentioned the brick handrail (ch4) because he intentionally casts doubt over the lie by telling it very badly). And of course, he doesn't go back on his "big" lies or the lies that serve to support them.

“Compulsive lying isn’t the best way to impersonate the mastermind”: Although I think his lying is very connected to his boredom, and his boredom connects him to Junko Enoshima, I want to point out that he is unaware of Junko. To the viewers of Danganronpa 53, his behavior absolutely looks like the behavior of a mastermind… but there’s no reason for Kokichi himself to think that “someone pathologically bored who constantly switches personas” is the most believable caricature of the mastermind. I think that’s a coincidence that was engineered by Tsumugi, and from Kokichi’s perspective it’s just part of his personality.

"Tanking his credibility to mask his emotions": As some have pointed out, being constantly dishonest does make it easier for Kokichi to dismiss his own moments of vulnerability and keep his thoughts/feelings ambiguous (e.g. gracefully backing out of his love confession to Shuichi during the love suite by pretending he was joking. The idea that it's a prank is only believable to Shuichi because he already knows Kokichi likes to pull his leg in other ways). I don't disagree with this interpretation of Kokichi's lies, in fact it's a really fascinating angle and part of what makes interpreting him so challenging. However... I still don't think that's the ONLY reason he walks around telling people the sky is green. Its usefulness is pretty limited to cases like the love suite, where he's trying to 'test the waters' and back out if the first approach fails. A superficially similar example is when he cries for Gonta's execution and then whirls around with whole "I don't want to, stupidhead!" bit — he's not actually testing the waters here, because he never intended to go forward with the story 'I'm really sad about Gonta and I regret doing that;' even if you think the tears were real, the plan was always to retract it. What actually saves face for him here is the fact that he's able to stop crying and go on a straight-faced villain monologue afterwards — and all that was *required* to make that believable was his acting skills (admittedly helped by his "evil" reputation, but not necessarily by his "liar" reputation). In other words, I'm inclined to think it would have worked even if he had presented as 'honest but mean-spirited' up until this point. It's the same way Tsumugi can convince us in Ch.6 that she's evil and her grief for previous victims was an act, despite never having presented herself as a liar until now; Kokichi is lying about being a heartless villain, while Tsumugi (ostensibly) is not, but they have the same effect in the moment because their ability to switch rapidly between 'good' and 'evil' personas proves *in itself* that they're good actors, and that one of those personas must be false, regardless of how their honesty was perceived beforehand.

"Kokichi lacks emotional stake in other people": This is simply a headcanon I am positing because I think it has interesting implications for his relationship with lies. Please don't be mistaken when I say that Kokichi doesn't care about the people around him (all of the English words for "caring" are frustratingly ambiguous, in my opinion). I don't think Kokichi experiences "care" as an emotion very often, no, but that doesn't mean he can't take interest in people, have opinions on them, or "care about" them through his actions. Now, whether or not he actually does that.... is not the topic of this essay either!

"An intellectual challenge": To lie, you have to continually generate a false narrative (rather than just regurgitating the truth), you have to track which routes you've left open based on what you've already said, and you have to assess whether or not they believe you (...which are all similar to calculations you'd already be used to doing if you don't have empathy). If you want to win, you have to do all of this on the fly and do it really, really well. And once people know you're a liar, it not only gets harder to convince them of your lies, it also gets harder to convince them of the truth; once lies are introduced, the pressure to perform well pervades every part of the conversation. Of course, this is way more fun with bigger lies (like DICE lies, in my opinion), but the little ones still take a modest amount of effort (an amount he can afford to expend on a daily basis) and yield a much more immediate reward.

"Lying still hurts people": e.g. Kokichi accuses Kaede of strong arming everyone during the Death Road of Despair, then accuses everyone else of attacking her the following morning. This one is a complicated example because it was such an obvious lie that I really have trouble believing that he wanted anyone else to buy it (I really think the point was to annoy people and raise social tensions), but even though the lie was quickly pointed out, it still actually made everyone gang up on Kaede, to the point she leaves to cry in her room afterwards.

“Lying isn’t to make people do what he wants”: Again, I'm just talking about his everyday compulsive lying here. While he does use DICE related lies to make people do what he wants (e.g. make Shuichi hang out with him), I consider those part of his "big schemes" rather than his habitual behavior, since his claims about DICE are consistent, well thought-out, and long term. Not to mention, the veracity of those claims isn't too important to me, since he's already very transparent about the fact that he's trying to threaten people into doing his bidding in these cases.

[bibookdemon]

My headcanons surrounding these two:

-MBJ had been making advances on this idiot for fucking YEARS but SQH fails to notice simply because he's used to the human way of flirting + his king could never be interested in someone like him, right??

-When he finally realizes what's happening and they get together, he assumes he's going to be MBJ's cute lil hubby and also the bottom of the relationship

-Imagine how surprised he is when he realizes this giant, strong, and intimidating DEMON KING wants to command SQH's every word. 'You are *my* king, and I want it no other way.'

-Bro actually kneels one day and holds out a leash and collar to SQH and then presents his neck. And he never takes the collar off (though the leash stays in their room - the collar can be written off as a stylistic choice, but the leash would make him lose face)

-SQH takes a hot minute to get used to it but once he does, it becomes the norm. Of course he still respects and loves his MBJ, he still acknowledges the power he holds and etc etc. But at the same time, he's fallen into the position of MBJ's dom very easily, and it shows pretty much everywhere. When in front of demons, he tones it down, so all they see is his boosted confidence and their king fawning over a human. Nothing horribly crazy. They definitely don't realize their king obeys every command SQH gives him, no matter how small, and he *gets off on it*.

-SQH's pleasure comes first, MBJ's always comes second, and MBJ wouldn't have it any other way. 99% of the time, SQH is ruthless and teasing and etc etc. Occasionally he has a day or two where he sets aside their dom/sub (master/servant?) dynamic because he needs to become the small human dominated by his giant demon king. MBJ is more than happy to do that for him, he still sees it as a command of sorts he needs to obey + he wants to pleasure his king.

-'My king' becomes completely reversed. MBJ forbids SQH from saying it ever again, and instead starts using it to refer to SQH himself.

My art style and Mobei-Jun:

-Every single time I've read about him, whether in the novels or in fics, this is how I see him. (Well, not his hair, but I was rushing stuff lol) The multi-pronged antlers (which I may add more onto + add strings of jewelry) the deer legs and hooves, the demonic tail. It's just the way I always saw him. So I'm always gonna draw him like that lol

-I might make a 'ref sheet' with my headcanons later on

-Also, for SQH, I always imagined him as short and very, very round. He's just a soft lil guy. (And he's trans - I will always write him as such) He's had top surgery + is able to use his magic to essentially act as T ;3

Bleh I woke up too early - so Moshang cheebs

Warning vary scary (kidding. It's implied suggestive)

The king and his loyal dog. Yes, you heard me right. That's their dynamic and I stand by it. No, of course the other demons don't recognize SQH as their king. But MBJ DOES!!!!

MBJ: I want to be your bitch

SQH: HUH.

MBJ: *hands him a collar and leash* Please make me your bitch.

SQH: *nosebleed* Fuck that's hot

I'll reblog this with more hcs in a bit *bites all of you* it is 6 in the morning and I hate mornings so I'm going back to sleep

And yes I will explain my reasoning behind MBJ looking that way in my art

Also maybe I'll clean line this and make it a sticker. Will reblog with a poll ig

[darkfluffydragon]

Woo! Phantasmagoria! Shadow Milk Cookie :D (also known as Phantas when it comes to AUs)

It may be messy, but I've spent too long trying to come up with a design for jester man over here. Let's just embrace the chaos SMC style. This is also the guy who designed Pure Vanilla and Wind Archer's outfits by the way. He does not like his hair.

[elodieunderglass]

And what if they grew old and were happy!! And what then!!

[eatzyuu]

silly little headcanon that, as Robin, each of the Batboys were trained to go limp when being lifted from areas of danger, sort of like how kittens go limp when mother cats grab the scruff of their neck. it just makes so it’s easier for Batman to grab the little Robin from a particularly dangerous area.

i imagine that, even after his Robin days, Nightwing still has going limp trained into him. one time, when he and Starfire were in a particularly dangerous battle and cornered by a cliff edge, Starfire grabs hold of him and he just limp. Starfire assumes something has happened to him and panics, but finds that Nightwing is fine. he’s a bit embarrassed, seeing that he still has his Robin training instilled deeply within him somewhere.

but where it gets even funnier is with Jason. as Robin, it’s always a little cute to see Batman grab him by the scruff of his neck and to see the small child go limp and get carried off into safety. but when Batman and Red Hood get into disagreements during the rare missions that they do come together to take down a common threat, seeing a grown, 6’0” man going limp and then realizing he did so is miraculously laughable. Tim doesn’t let him forget about his Robin habits only to get grabbed and go limp as well.

[kxllerblond]

Again, he rolls his eyes, menu discarded with little effort put into reading it. ❝ I don't know if you're being patronizing to me or telling on yourself in regards to your own poor taste or masochistic tendencies. ❞ genuinely, he couldn't discern if there was sarcasm present or not. He could assume there was if only because no one with any sense would have considered his company pleasurable.

If Oz was an acquired taste, Clark was one of those food challenges you only partook in if you hated yourself or had something to prove.

Having the exorcist assist him would be the best call, despite how it disgruntled him so. Clark could pick apart intricate situations and problems with ease and with pleasure, but sit him in the middle of one he had no interest in and he could drag his feet and whine like an absolute child over it. He had no interest in this scheme or the workings of it, cared little for the game and the dance of unraveling it; he wanted it over and done with and wanted to commit as little energy to it as he possibly could.

And while trying to brute force his way to a solution sounded the easiest and the quickest, he knew from experience that it was always better to outsource problems you didn't want to bother with to other people. At least partially.

Cool eyes follow to the window, plat audience to the short exchange. There was familiarity there that made the cambion squint, his head tilt just slightly with curiosity. ❝ Is this a frequent spot for you? ❞ he takes the bottle with a curt nod, looks over the label for a beat or two, and tilts it to his lips.

For once, he ached to cling to the meaningless small talk. Wanted to wrap himself up in it and continue their little hardly subtle game of cat and mouse. But this couldn't be avoided if he wanted it to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

❝ How would you suggest going about confirming which family has ties to this bullshit that's on my ass? They're childish and petty enough to delve into such costly things over a fucking vase set, allegedly. I can't imagine they're the sort that's very subtle about much of anything. ❞

The exorcist is hardly discouraged by the pedantic dissection, instead? He rewards his company with a flash of pearly whites and disarming acquiesce. "You'd know best." Charm is a dangerous weapon in deft and capable hands, he rarely partakes in the hopes of avoiding potential headaches. Alas, this is a special occasion. Clark is blurring the line rather than toeing it outright. Crafty creature of habit. 

"Impeding your progress would be just as tasteless." The implication being distraction. He, being the glaring qualifier. It's easy enough to hold blue eyes, even with the world split in two. A caricature of reality, and bleak truth in tandem, gray & roseate. "Then again? Who am I to deny myself the pleasure of your company." Compliments to the chef and the lull is broken. 

Oz nearly hums his agreement, instead. He pauses. Allows both the praise and exasperation to lap at his very being as he sits with a menu in hand, perusing but not remotely invested in the task. It's not the Lord testing him, they're currently on an extended break. Instead, the under study is a temperamental halfling with a masochistic streak miles wide. "The better to ensnare you with my dear." Engaging, but hardly an answer. Things are never so simple, and a 7 pm trauma dump isn't on the menu. 

Lips twitch with poorly contained mirth as he leans back in his seat. "Dos Cubanos con todo Madga." Two fingers up, and a quick glance to the small window where a pair of dark wizened eyes are barely peeking over. "Malcriado." a tut in heavily accented Spanish, but the telltale sounds of cooking commence. Oz meanwhile slips out of his seat and eases over to the ancient cooler by the main counter for two glass bottles of soda. It's quick work to pop them open with the bottle opener hanging from a chain directly beside. "Fridays are usually slammed so she stays in the back, and it's self-serve." Manicured fingers place one bottle in front of the blonde upon return, before he eases down into his side of the booth with his own drink. "It's still pretty early for the night crowd but we're familiar." She wouldn't gut him for entertaining himself. 

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[getvalentined]

An open letter to @staff

I already submitted this to Support under "Feedback," but I'm sharing it here too as I don't expect it to get a response, and I feel like putting in out in public may be more effective than sending it off into the void.

The recent post on the Staff blog about changing tumblr to an algorithmic feed features a large amount of misinformation that I feel staff needs to address, openly and honestly, with information on where this data was sourced at the very least.

Claim 1: Algorithms help small creators.

This is false, as algorithms are designed to push content that gets engagement in order to get it more engagement, thereby assuring that the popular remain popular and the small remain small except in instances of extreme luck.

This can already be seen on the tumblr radar, which is a combination of staff picks (usually the same half-dozen fandoms or niche special interests like Lego photography) which already have a ton of engagement, or posts that are getting enough engagement to hit the radar organically. Tumblr has an algorithm that runs like every other socmed algorithm on the planet, and it will decimate the reach of small creators just like every other platform before it.

Claim 2: Only a small portion of users utilize the chronological feed.

You can find a poll by user @darkwood-sleddog here that at the time of writing this, sits at over 40 THOUSAND responses showing that over 96 percent of them use the chronological feed*. Claiming otherwise isn't just a misstatement, it's a lie. You are lying to your core userbase and expecting them to accept it as fact. It's not just unethical, it's insulting to people who have been supporting your platform for over a decade.

Claim 3: Tumblr is not easy to use.

This is also 100% false and you ABSOLUTELY know it. Tumblr is EXTREMELY easy to use, the issue is that the documentation, the explanations of features, and often even the stability of the service is subpar. All of this would be very easy for staff to fix, if they would invest in the creation of walkthroughs and clear explanations of how various site features work, as well as finally fixing the search function. Your inability to explain how your service works should not result in completely ignoring the needs and wants of your core long-term userbase. The fact that you're more willing to invest in the very systems that have made every other form of social media so horrifically toxic than in trying to make it easier for people to use the service AS IT WORKS NOW and fixing the parts that don't work as well speaks volumes toward what tumblr staff actually cares about.

You will not get a paycheck if your platform becomes defunct, and the thing that makes it special right now is that it is the ONLY large-scale socmed platform on THE ENTIRE INTERNET with a true chronological feed and no aggressive algorithmic content serving. The recent post from staff indicates that you are going to kill that, and are insisting that it's what we want. It is not. I'd hazard to guess that most of the dev team knows it isn't what we want, but I assume the money people don't care. The user base isn't relevant, just how much money they can bring in.

The CEO stated he wanted this to remain as sort of the last bastion of the Old Internet, and yet here we are, watching you declare you intend to burn it to the ground.

You can do so much better than this.

Response to the Update

Under the cut for readability, because everything said above still applies.

I already said this in a reblog on the post itself, but I'm adding it to this one for easy access: people read it that way because that's what you said.

Staff considers the main feed as it exists to be "outdated," to the point that you literally used that word to describe it, and the main goals expressed in this announcement is to figure out what makes "high-quality content" and serve that to users moving forward.

People read it that way because that is what you said.

*The final results of the poll, after 24 hours:

136,635 votes breaks down thusly:

An algorithm based feed where I get "the best of tumblr." @ 1.3% (roughly 1,776 votes)

Chronological feed that only features blogs I follow. @ 95.2% (roughly 130,077 votes)

This doesn't affect me personally. @ 3.5% (roughly 4,782 votes)

[tojipie]

asshole toji who says he’s too big for condoms <3

“i swear it’s still in here,” you huff, leaning halfway off the bed to rummage through your nightstand for the box of rubbers you bought on a whim last month. 

warm, thick hands rub up and down your naked torso, sliding up to play with your breasts from where you sit straddling his lap. you can barely see in front of you with how strong the need in your core burns.

a quick search through another drawer blesses you with your prize, the blue box just out of view underneath a ball of old reciepts.

“here, quick,” you sigh, handing him the item before clambering off the bed to shuck the rest of your clothes off. it had been a long time since you'd hooked up with someone, embarrassing as that was. sex had been the one and only thing on your mind from the moment you’d met this man at the bar. 

the near-stranger shakes his head fondly, turning the box of rubbers over a couple times like some sort of alien artifact.

“i only wear XLs, sugar,” he laughs, tossing back the pathetic box of rubbers. the exasperation in his voice feels like a punch to the chest. like he simply can’t believe you’d ever assume he would fit into anything less than the largest size. 

you disregard the thought, attention snapping back to toji slyly palming himself against your bedframe. scar stretched wide around smiling lips.

“you gonna come over here?”

you’re humiliated at how fast you scurry back into his lap.

˚ ✧ ─────

you almost don’t believe him until he unravels the latex onto his length, seeing it fall about 3 inches short of the base. 

okay.. wow. so he was too big.

toji lazily toys with himself atop your sheets. long, hard, and flushed red from base to tip. 

he’s nearly bursting out of the thin material, stretching it so tight and so thin that the milky latex almost looks like it’s melting into his skin.

the older man shucks the rubber off with a chuckle that says “i told you so.” he pulls you closer to him by the small of your back, fist reaching down to pump his newly freed length.

“i’ll pull out, you think i won’t?” he promises, voice barely a whisper. you don’t have to take in the smirk gracing the corner of his mouth to know he’s lying.

[karinasbaby]

sim jaeyun — sense.

P. spiderman!jake x fem!reader (17+) | W. unprotected sex, sir kink, somewhat hard dom jake, tying up, pet names, making out, jake is desperate and needy, breeding kink, creampie, cursing, other filthy shit | WC. around 3k im assuming | A,N. wanted to write smth for spiderman jake so here we are ! pls read a,note at the end !

in which.. jake gets affected by an unknown aphrodisiac potion in the middle of a fight.

limping towards your apartment building at two am wasn’t the ideal situation jake was hoping to find himself just a few hours ago.

yet here he is. right hand pressed against the bleeding gash on the side of his waist while his left hand loosely wrapped around his red mask. an unfavourable situation really. seeing the friendly neighbourhood spiderman walking funnily down the streets of queens.

crimson red leaking between his fingertips and bleeding through his suit, multiple small cuts adorned his legs and angles, ripping apart the high-tech suit that was crafted by mr.stark for him only, weeks of hard work wasted down the drain in the matter of a few villains.

yet none of those tragedies were processed inside of jake’s foggy mind. as ridiculous as it sounded, he felt all the blood rushing from his body to the middle of his legs. adding more to his lightheartedness overall.

he couldn’t figure out what the fuck the stupid robber threw at him in that filthy glass bottle of his. the glass shattering right next to jake’s jaw letting the liquid seep into his suit and before he could even realise it, he had ingested way too much of the unknown liquid mid fight due to his stupid habit of licking his lips and heavy breathing.

tongue pressing against the dampened fabric that was soaked with what he assumed was a potion of some sort because it fucked him up entirely.

he was rock fucking hard. in the middle of the street. with multiple injuries. at two am.

to say that he was sexually frustrated would be an understatement. his body was aching in every way possible. his senses heightening further than they normally should be, hearing his heartbeat drumming loudly in his ear drums as he dragged himself closer and closer to the brick wall of his favourite building.

he almost moaned when he lifted his head upwards to face the windows of the apartment, throbbing, tortorous pain pulsing all throughout his veins and body. he could barely remember all the scenes from the unnecessary assault, from the stinging kicks to his abdomen to the tenderness he felt in his knuckles due to his calculated punches that had the guy knocked out on the floor after hours.

knowing your tendency of asking him countless questions from his fights and encounters with criminals, he tried to prepare himself to relief all your confusion. key word: tried. because he felt his legs beginning to shake under him. breaths turning heavier with each passing second.

he inhaled a deep breath to ground himself just for the next few minutes. eyes focusing on the sight of your window still open, you were still waiting for him. jake’s fingers loosened in relief before he lifted his right arm upwards to shoot a long, thin web. connected himself from the ground to the side of the brick wall.

the translucent web kept his weak figure balanced against the pull of the gravity, feet lightly pressed under the rough ridges and corners before he finally pressed his knee against your window sill.

jake’s half lidded eyes desperately searched for your presence, widening in complete delight when he spotted your figure laying on the bed. one hand wrapped around your favourite novel while the other adjusted the volume of your headphones. your fingers instinctively pressing against the negatively symbolised button before a blur caught your attention. the sight making your heart drop.

your gaze quickly met jake’s exhausted one. “jaeyun?” you whispered in surprise, taking in the appearance of his battered body. shit, how did he get hurt so bad when he left not even an hour ago?

before you could realise it your feet carried you away from your mattress and towards your lover who was now holding onto his stomach in pain. eyes closed and head lowered to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat at the pure anguish his body was going through.

he felt each nerve pulsing with white hot heat. ache circulating his body stemming from the cuts and punches along with his confusing boner that made his head spin in need.

“i’ll go get the first aid kit.” taking off your headphones, you rushed towards the door of your bedroom before disappearing. unaware of the way jake was desperately reaching forward to just stop you. to tell you that his cuts didn’t matter at the moment. and that if he didn’t have you under him in the next few minutes his mind might erupt.

his body ran on his impulse at this current second. head pushing away all his pain and burn from his small cuts and bruises (in comparison to his previous injuries) to focus on his leaking cock that pulsed between his unusually tight boxers.

he felt ridiculously hot and warm. it was uncomfortable to stay in his suit when his body ached to hold yours, he was struggling. so much.

“sit down on the bed, baby.” you walked back inside the room carrying the small box in your hands, attention caught on the ointment that was in the middle of the box surrounded by the multiple bandages that you mentally counted in your head, they seemed like a good amount.

“how did this even ha—?” your words got cut off when jake wrapped his arms around your waist and harshly pulled you against him, the sudden movement causing the first aid kit to fall out of your hands and clatter quietly on your carpet, “get on the bed right now.” jake practically whined into your ear, breath hot against your skin as his desperation was evident in every word.

you were confused, bewildered to say the least. how was he even able to move with such horrendous injuries that were probably excruciatingly painful for him right now? “baby wha—“ “please, baby. i’m begging you. please strip and get on the bed.” he groaned, hands loosening around you as they pushed you gently against the bed.

“but jake your inju—“ rip!

a punch of pieces of fabric just fell onto the ground as jake harshly ripped your clothes off. you didn’t even have the time to process what happened before he buried his face into your chest, hands cupping your breasts that were decorated in his favourite dark red lacey bra. he adored the sight of his favourite lingerie on you, but at this current second he loathed every fabric that was on both of your bodies.

“fuck— baby, i need you so bad. i-i don’t know what’s going on, i got hit with this random liquid by this stupid fucking— oh my god—“ he cut himself off when he felt you leaning closer to him, the slight brush of his dripping cock against your thigh made him almost cum in his suit. “i need you so fucking bad.” he whined before pressing his lips desperately against your lips, relief washing down his body when you reciprocated and stopped asking questions.

truth was you were more than confused at the moment. but with the way your lover was a few seconds away from getting on his knees to beg you so you allow him to fuck you was… an experience indeed.

you really loved seeing this side of jake. functioning on nothing but pure desire and need.

he quickly pushed you towards the bed, falling right after you on top of your soft mattress before he connected your lips again, sucking on your tongue needily while he humped your thighs. his breaths were heavy, soft whimpers of your name and how much he needed you left his pretty plump lips while you felt your panties growing wetter by the second.

you brushed your fingers through his fluffy hair while he tried to kiss you and hump you while simultaneously trying to remove his suit. the frustrated fucks and shits leaving his mouth when he would pull away to get a quick breath before kissing you again.

once his suit was off he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. pushing his body on top of yours, burning skin on skin as he felt countless beads of sweat roll down his body. his body was completely on fire. a depraved urge to fuck you till sunrise centered itself in his head. and before he knew it he was ripping your panties in half and spreading your legs wide open.

you moaned in pleasure when his dripping cock settled on top of your cunt, the precum running down his base almost like he had already came. he cursed under his breath before he used his strength to move you around to his liking.

“you know i’m not the type to do this, but today i just can’t baby. i’ll make it up to you.” he rushed out as he lifted your wrists up above your head, you confusedly look at him before he shot multiple webs around your wrists and the bed. trapping you under him entirely.

your heart dropped to your stomach as jake was the complete opposite of whoever was on top of you right now. he never truly fucked you, he made love to you every chance he got. wrapping himself around you and gently pleasuring you because your pleasure was his. he was so tender and loving. a drastic contrast from the man that used to kiss your wrists when you were coming down from your high to the man that just tied your wrists by using his web fluid. and you can’t say you weren’t excited.

he settled onto his knees, taking in the breathtaking sight of you sprawled out on the bed in front of him, legs spread widely with your cunt dripping. your hole practically begging him to fill you up. he slapped his cock against your soaked folds a few times. riling you up further as you squealed under him at the jolts of shock rushing throughout your body from your clit.

“look at you baby… you looking so beautiful. so pretty for me.” he breathed out dazedly, a soft smile carving its way onto his lips as your pretty eyes glossed over while your bottom lip got trapped between your teeth, “gonna be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” he teased as he brushed his pulsing length between your folds, dipping the tip just in slightly before pulling away and enjoying your mewls of his name.

“yes— yes, yes! i’ll always be your good girl, please.” you choked out, the need for him pulsing throughout your body. “please what?” he paused his movements as his eyes pierced into yours. “please, sir.”

“such a good girl for me.” he chuckled when he pushed his length in, you gasped as he thrusted in deeply, brushing against all of your sweet spots in one go. you were seeing stars at the way he filled you up, his thick length always stretching your walls out just right. he was perfect.

“fuck— baby, you feel so fucking good.” he moaned, his pace becoming completely out of control as he felt his need and desire becoming more intense, his emotions stirring with his thoughts while the only thing he knew his body needed was to release. to fill and stuff you full of his cum and hopefully the effects of the potion will come off.

you moaned his name so sweetly for him, hands struggling against the webs as he spread your legs wider against your bed, his eyes entranced on the way his length disappeared inside of your soaked cunt before it came out glistening, multiple threads of wetness connecting you both as the wet sounds began to echo in your room. “sir— i’m so s-so close.” you mewled out as he continued to pound into you.

at your words jake switched his position, from balancing himself on his knees on your mattress to hovering above you, placing your legs back atop his shoulder as he sank in deeper this time.

broken moans of his name left your mouth as his tip kept abusing your sweetest spots over and over again. eyes rolling to the back of your head when jake slipped his hand between the two of you and used his thumb to rub tantalising circles on your swollen clit, coaxing your orgasm out.

“wanna cum for me baby? cum all over my cock like a good girl?” teasing you, he leaned down to leave bite marks over every inch of skin he could access, his body jolting with electricity and excitement when you arched your back against him, jaw going slack as the coil in your abdomen tightened more and more.

jake felt his mind reeling when you finally tightened unbelievably around him to the point pulling out almost felt painful. he relished in the way your body convulsed while he switched from rubbing your clit to landing slaps against it. each wet slap resonating in the room accompanied by your desperate moans while you creamed around his cock so prettily.

he felt like he was floating through a cloud of euphoria at the view of you shaking beneath him, because of him. his hips continued to pound into you, dick pulsing in need inside of you as his own climax was right around the corner.

you desperately pulled at the webs, twitching under jaeyun as he continued to fuck you through and overstimulate you from your orgasm, your body felt like it was lit ablaze as he pleased you while he chased his own release. “feels good baby?” he asked as lowered himself this time to kiss along your chest, smiling against your skin when you nodded with a soft “mhm”. unable to produce any coherent response.

jake’s other hand came up to rip your bra off, swiftly and with ease the thin fabric landed on the floor next to the other garments while one of jaeyun’s hand came up to massage your breast as his lips wrapped around the other.

you threw your head back when his tongue and fingers played and pulled at your sensitive nipples teasingly. the sensation of him fucking himself so deep inside of you while he toyed with your breasts shocks of pleasure travel across your spine. every nerve ending blasting with ecstasy as jake overstimulated you.

“shit— baby i’m so close.” he moaned against your chest, swollen lips wrapped around your nipples while he absentmindedly thrusted his hips sloppily, his body running on his impulse to get him off as soon as possible, his own abdomen tightened in pleasure as he could taste his orgasm on the tip of his tongue

“please fill me up, please sir. i need you so much.” you moaned out in need, craving the feeling of his warm cum spilling inside of you. “yeah? how bad do you need me?” he breathed, littering kisses down the middle of your breasts as his mind spun continuously. “so fucking bad. i need you to breed me and stuff me full with your cum, sir. please please give it to me.” he groaned as your words seemed to push him right down the edge.

his body jerked above you while his cock twitched, spilling out rope after rope deep inside of you. you both moaned in euphoria at the feeling, so fulfilling and satisfying for both of you as jake began to grind against you, riding out his release before falling on top of your body.

the two of you were catching your breaths, basking in the blissful aftermath when you realised jake was unusually silent. “jake…?” no response.

“jake i swear to god if you fell asleep and left me in these fuckass webs i will chop—“ and then you heard him snoring.

.. on the brighter side atleast he’s no longer affected by a sex potion.

a,note. this is not proof read or edited and will 100% be rewritten when i have the time cuz i hate how it turned out its so fawking rushed like this came out from 30 mins but pls take this as i try my best to write my full heeseung fic im trying my best thank you !! ♡

[fanaticalthings]

Most children, once they've grown up and moved out, sometimes come back to visit their parents to use their house as a sort of personal grocery store

And with Bruce being a literal billionaire whose house is always stocked with food and supplies, the batkids (that aren't living in the manor) definitely visit just for the purpose of taking shit for themselves.

---

For Dick, it's just small things, food and maybe some utensils. Bruce is barely in the kitchen so he never notices dishes go missing, and there are like 10 other children in his house so literally any one of the younger kids could've stolen food in the middle of the night, so he doesn't bat an eye at all.

Babs probably steals Bruce's hardware or his tools from the batcave. Sometimes, if she's nice, she'll leave a note.

Steph probably takes shit that no one will notice at the time but will absolutely be annoyed about when they need said thing. Stapler, soap bars, the microwave plate, etc...(Taking after Jason, she steals the hub caps off the batmobile's tires)

However, for Jason, once his relationship with Bruce is somewhat decent, of course he's gonna be petty and start stealing the more expensive shit in the manor for his apartment. Jason's microwave is broken? The next day, the cave's self-made and enhanced microwave made by Bruce for convenience is just gone.

Jason's feeling a coffee maker for his place? The one in Bruce's study disappears, too.

---

At first, Bruce thinks he's just sleep deprived, but then much bigger things start to go missing, like the whole TV and couch set in the living room. He assumes the younger kids are just playing pranks on him (sounds like something Stephanie would do) but then Bruce notices that the thief deliberately avoids stealing things from the kitchen, which is where Alfred is most of the time, and suddenly Bruce has an irritated clue on who the culprit is.

At first, he doesn't say anything, until one day he comes back, tired from a patrol, and is about to log in all the info on the computer only to realize his batchair is gone. That's when he texts Jason a blunt "If you really need things for your place, you can just ask me. I'll buy them for you." (As if Jason himself isn't loaded from his totally legal activities)

---

So now Jason's pettiness levels increase tenfold, and oh, wouldn't you look at it, his bike needs some new tires, and he knows a great place to get some more.

One night, Bruce is just blearily getting up for a late night snack, only to see Damian scamper away with a...lamp? So Bruce immediately follows him into the foyer only to see ALL of his kids (sans the ones not living in the manor), trying to haul two arm chairs out the window, and they just stop dead silent to stare at him until someone whispers a nervous "Crap"

Bruce doesn't even have any energy to fight, he just pinches his nose and is all "What is the meaning of this" in his tired dad voice. And Duke meekly responds with "we wanted more chairs at Jason's place"

And suddenly it all makes sense. Not once did Bruce wonder how the HELL Jason managed to lug a whole 60in TV and a full couch set on his own in one night. Of course, he had accomplices. Bruce just turns right around and goes right the hell back to his room to sleep. He'll deal with this in the morning.

[dreamsteddie]

There is an AITA out there that I can't find but it's been haunting me for weeks with visions of semi-angsty Steddie that I need to release onto the world. (If anyone happens to know what I'm talking about hit me up and I'll link it)

Edit: @jazzathebunny found the original AITA from Reddit linked Here for anyone who wants to read it. I'm definitely not doing exactly the same premise but this was my jumping off point 😊

Part Two! ------

Modern AU, Eddie and the guys are a moderately successful local band in the Chicago area playing gigs on the weekends and doing small tours whenever they all have the time. Gareth and Jeff are both in college while Eddie and Freak are both working part-time at a game store. Eddie managed to lock down that assistant manager position that lets him work 30 hours a week with weekends off for gigs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal and they can't complain.

Eddie had sworn off dating after a small handful of disastrous relationship attempts in their first year in the city. He dismisses any advances from people who attend their shows and tries not to think about how much he wants to make a genuine connection with someone and have something real. He's been burned one too many times to try and make something with someone he met in a bar or at work.

He knows the guys talk about it behind his back sometimes, he catches Jeff and Gareth fervently whispering to each other and stopping when they catch him entering the room one time too many to not suspect they're talking about him and he can't think of anything else going on in his life that they would feel the need to whisper about.

The fervent conversations take a slight uptick one day and about a week and a half after they do, Gareth hits him up and tells him he wants to set Eddie up with a guy from one of his classes. At first, Eddie is skeptical and cites all the reasons why he doesn't want to try with anyone right now but eventually, Jeff jumps in to plea the case and Freak jumps in on top of that and under the combined weight of his best friends he agrees to meet up with this Steve guy.

The guys set up the whole thing and before Eddie knows it it's Saturday night and he's wearing his best black jeans and a gray button-down, untucked, to go on an honest to God blind date like his life is some low-budget romcom.

Steve is not at all what Eddie thought he would be. Not the kind of guy he thought his friends would pick out for him given they know he usually goes for other alternatives like himself. Steve, who is shyly waving him over and getting out of his seat to great him, is the very epitome of prep. Well-fitted polo, light blue chinos, and what Eddie assumes this guy thinks are casual loafers. He's handsome to be sure, a 12/10 at least with perfect hair and defined biceps but Eddie is fairly sure he's being punked.

But, Eddie doesn't want to be rude so he goes to meet Steve at the table, confirming just in case that he's actually here to meet with a guy named Eddie. Steve gives him a bit of a confused look, saying that Gareth showed him a couple pictures of Eddie before he agreed to meet and figured he'd done the same for Eddie off Steve's Instagram. Gareth had, in fact, not done anything of the sort but they both dismiss it and get on with their date.

In all honesty, Eddie is expecting it to be a complete wash, but it turns out that even if Steve is not at all what Eddie would have previously said what his type, Steve is damn near perfect. He's funny, kind, a little bitchy, and even though he proves himself to be every bit the sports nerd he looks like he doesn't turn his nose up at Eddie's own much more classically nerdy interests. By the end of the date, Eddie has a new type and that type is Steve Harrington. He's quick to lock down a second date for the next weekend which Steve happily agrees to. They exchange numbers and Steve gives Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek that has him floating all the way home.

Steve texted him that next morning letting him now he had a great time and is really looking forward to their next date and Eddie thinks this might be the start of something big for him. When he gets to practice he's clearly still floating on cloud nine and in his own little world designing their marriage invitations and matching tombstones so he doesn't notice the sly grins on his bandmates' faces.

"So...how'd it go last night? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Gareth asks, a strange glint in his eyes that Eddie doesn't clock.

Eddie goes on and on about how nice Steve was and how he might be The One, thanking Gareth profusely. Freak looks pleased for him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder in congratulations but when Eddie finally tunes back into the real world he's greeted by Gareth's livid expression and Jeff's overly concerned one.

He asks the guys what the fuck is up and it turns out that Gareth and Jeff set this whole thing up as a prank of sorts. Eddie was never supposed to hit it off with Steve who Gareth selected specifically because he's a "totally brain-dead prep" and as far away as someone could get from Eddie's previous relationships. He was supposed to be someone Eddie could go on a date with and not form a connection with without getting completely burned at the end like all his previous relationships in the hopes of getting him out of his slump.

Jeff was in on it as well. He wanted to get Eddie back out there, so when Gareth presented the plan he sat in on a couple of Gareth's general credit business class sessions to help pick the guy out.

After Jeff and Gareth finish explaining he does a complete 180 and just...leaves. In any other situation, he would be raging and verbally tearing his friends a new asshole but instead, he completely disengages and walks out the garage door, ignoring his friends' shouts to come back.

He goes back home, socked and hurt and so very confused about how the hell he found himself in this position when his phone lights up.

New Message: Steve H.

Fuck.

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Part two coming soon??? Maybe???? We'll see.