#standards really are falling everywhere

[vaguely-concerned]

do you think an angel would be a bit miffed if they did the whole 'BE NOT AFRAID' schtick and the person they revealed themselves to was like 'oh it's alright I wasn't :)'. like. you can be a little afraid they got all dressed up for this. c'mon man

[sucrose-soymilk]

hadn’t really regressed in a While and i didn’t realize how much i missed/dareisay needed it until i had the free time and ability to do so over the last few days and i have to say. i’m feeling a bit better

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐑𝐚𝐰 — 𝐌.𝐒.

Synopsis: all the first-times in your relationship with Matt that are so pure — so raw.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, doll .ᐟ reader, soft dom Matt, this has a LOT, but it's soft and romantic.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Matt couldn’t believe he met a girl like you, someone so brutally soft. 

Silence spoke volumes between you two. Ever since the first date, it never felt awkward. The quiet air never made either of you scramble for words to say. It was so soft, so calming – so delicate. 

Neither of you rushed into intimacy. Long nights were always spent cuddling, watching the moonlight pool through his window as your limbs tangled in his silk sheets. Kisses had been exchanged with such a passionate and slow rhythm. Neither of you wanted anything else but to bathe in the velvety aura of something so soft and pure. 

It was like rocking a baby. Falling didn’t seem scary – it seemed inviting and peaceful. The sweetness of the love never deterred. Fears were buried by each push further and deeper into the relationship, every word and action guaranteeing the dream-like reality. 

There was no rush. Since day one, it’s always been so slow – so sacred. Something so delicate that neither of you could dare to push too hard, following each other with calm, light footsteps down a new path of something foreign yet nostalgic. 

00 . . . the first time he kissed you. 

You felt like a puddle in his gaze. It’s so easy to follow him down the sand, listening to the waves as stars glisten on the water. Normally, you wouldn’t let a guy take you out this late with no one around. But, you feel like you can trust him. 

“I have to take you home soon, but…I really like spending time with you,” Matt says. 

Usually, butterflies of excitement would be in your stomach. But they’re everywhere. Especially in your chest. 

He’s taken you on three dates. Your friends had pestered you about the ‘third date’ standard – sex, but you had told them he hadn’t even kissed you yet. There didn’t feel like there was any pressure for anything. You both just liked each other’s company. You didn’t need some physical connection to prove something here was worth exploring. You already knew. 

“I like spending time with you.” Your toes dig into the stand as you both pause to stare at each other. 

There’s something about his eyes. Something so familiar. It feels like you're looking at the moon, something so untouchable. 

Kiss me.

Your eyes peer into his with the silent plea. Words aren’t forced, a silent understanding makes him lean in closer, his hand holding yours as his other wraps around your waist. 

His breath is fanning on your lips, his eyes searching for permission as you feel something within you completely collapse, no walls or guards up as you let him truly look at you. 

“Can I…” his hand moves from your waist, fingers softly brushing your hair behind your ear as he looks at you with curiosity. “-can I kiss you?” he breathes, his hand tangling in your hair as you nod your head, your chest tightening with anticipation as he starts to lean down.

It feels like a dream. 

You don’t remember your eyes closing. You don’t even remember how cold the air had become. 

There’s nothing but him. Only him. 

His lips land on yours so gently, a type of tenderness you’ve never felt before. It’s a kiss, but it’s so much more than that. There is no spark scaring you away from intensity. It’s just this – it’s just him. 

Matt’s lips are appreciating yours, the way it just feels so natural, so comfortable. The sand seems to sink beneath your feet. You’re held hostage in the feeling of vulnerability. But you don’t even wanna run. You don’t care however much sand the wind is blowing into your hair. You don’t care about anything except for how welcomed you feel, how cherished you feel. 

And it’s just a kiss. 

But there’s no rush. 

01 . . . the first night.

Swarms of anxiety – something unfamiliar for how you typically felt spending time with Matt, but it’s uncharted territory. He’d never asked if you wanted to stay over for the night. You’re not sure what this means, what’s expected of you. 

Did it mean that he wanted more?

You shared long kisses, but nothing quite pushed past a soft moan humming between your lips from how passionately he always kissed you. 

Matt can feel your uncertainty. You’ve both gotten ready for bed, but he can see the slight reluctance in your posture, prohibiting you from completely relaxing. 

“Okay – what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Your eyes stare at the wall nervously, your hands playing in your lap as you feel Matt sit down next to you on the edge of the bed. 

“I…um, nothings wrong–” Matt cuts you off, taking one of your hands into his before placing his lips on the back of your palm. “Somethings wrong. Just talk to me, I can practically hear you thinking,” he remarks. 

Your shoulders sink. The anxious babble of words is racing through your mind, but you don’t know how to say it. 

“I just…you want me to spend the night, Matt. We’ve…we’ve never... just, ugh,” you sigh, frustratedly helpless in expressing the vicious thoughts consuming your mind. 

Matt tugs on your hands, grabbing your attention as your eyes shift over to his. You can see the same moonlight as always, a reassurance washing over you as he starts to speak. “I just wanted to cuddle you. You…you’re more than enough just being next to me, okay? We don’t need to do anything. There’s no rush.” 

Your head falls onto his shoulder as you let out an exasperated sigh. 

It’s Matt, why did you think anything else?

“I’m sorry. I’m just…just getting in my own head,” you explain. 

“I do it too, it’s okay,” Matt reasons, hanging his arm around your shoulders as he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

“-it’s just me, remember? There’s no rush.” 

02 . . . the first of something more. 

Your lips are addicting to him. He can’t get enough of the feeling, the comfort and relief he gets from it, how he can make you feel his devotion through his lips desperately chasing yours. 

“Matt,” you whisper, breathlessly as he slowly devours you, your lips tingling from how long you’d been kissing for at this point. 

But you can’t get enough of it – of him. You love the way he pours himself into you through his lips moving against yours, a pattern completely lost and forgotten as you both succumb to such a natural rhythm of movement. 

His hands rest on your hips. He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t realize what has made you so breathless. “-hm?” he hums into your mouth, a vibration of your moan making his chest pound with a loud drum of his heart. 

Your hands clasp into his shoulders tightly, your chest pushing into his as your back arches slightly. 

And then he realizes. 

He had been so drunk off you, so intoxicated by you, he hadn’t even meant to roll his hard bulge up into you. But he did. And it felt good. 

Matt tries to be more mindful, his kisses getting even more desperate and sloppy as he reminds himself to stay still. “-’m sorry, sorry. Just…can’t get enough of you like this, princess,” he rasps.

You’re more than comfortable. In all honesty, you didn’t mind in the slightest. Heat pools between your legs, a pulse becoming painfully recognizable as he keeps himself contained, only his lips showing all his desperation. 

“No, I,” you gasp, your mouth falling open as his lips start to venture to your neck. He’s just so hungry – so viciously romantic with each passionate kiss. “-more.” Your hands tug on his hair. Matt loses his composure, his hard length grinding up against you as his lips fall flat, a moan vibrating against your neck. 

“God. Are you sure? I – fuuccckkk,” he groans, his teeth nibbling onto the delicate skin of your neck as you grind your hips. 

His hands clutch onto your waist. He’s not pushing you down, he’s simply holding onto you tightly, a desperation to hold you and reassure you making his hands stay planted against your skin, heavy breathes falling from his mouth and onto your neck covered in his saliva. 

“Matt,” you pant, your head falling into the crook of his shoulders as he takes over, grinding himself up into you as your hands pull on his hair. 

One of his hands slides down to your hip, keeping you in place as he slowly circles his hard cock through both your clothes, relishing in the heat radiating from your core. His other hand slides up, cupping the back of your head as he soothes you.

“Shh, I got you, sweetheart. I – mhm,” he whines, his thighs tensing more and more with each movement. “-fuck, is this okay? Does my princess feel good?” he purrs, his head leaning further over your shoulder as he feels your legs tense over and over, the whines spilling from your lips into the crook of his neck telling him you feel good, really good. 

“I – yes, it’s,” you shriek as your gut tightens even further. Matt coos, holding you even tighter and continuing the same lazy grind of his hips. “-’s so…so,” you gasp, clutching onto him even tighter. He’s sure to keep his movements the exact same. His cock twitches every time the whimper falls from your lips as he presses himself hard against your clothed heat. 

“Thaaat’s it,” he says, petting over the back of your head as he feels your body go rigid. “-just let go, baby. I’m,” his words get cut off from a groan ripping from the back of his throat, “-’m right there with you, fuck.” 

It’s so warm between your bodies. Every motion is so addicting, the feeling of him so close to you absolutely consuming you. A harsh, deep noise is ripped through his lips as he feels your legs shake on either side of him. Somehow, it gets even warmer, even more addicting as he feels his dick pulse while sticky cums spurts from his tip and soaks his briefs.  

Your heaves for air are concerningly shaky, your legs still quivering on either side of him as he pets through your hair, trying to catch his own breath. “Fuck – can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers, hugging you closer as his hand sitting on your hip moves to hug around your waist. 

You whine as you feel his hips rock one more time, the feeling of your panties sticking to your dripping heat so overwhelmingly euphoric. 

“Did so good for me,” he soothes, “-letting me have you like this. Fuck – I love it. I love you.” 

03 . . . the first time.

The same thing had happened so many times. Grinding on his clothed cock until you were both heaving for air. But this time it wasn’t enough, this time you needed more. 

“Fuuuuccckkkk,” Matt’s head drops, his lips brushing against your ear as he lets his hard length rub against you, the only barrier being your panties. 

You can barely see anything. The lack of distractions makes the pleasure consume you even more. 

“Matt, please. I – I want more,” you cry, your hands tugging in his hair brutally as he tightens his muscles to push himself even closer against you. 

Your statement is more than enthusiastic, an obvious desperation in your voice making it clear that you need more this time. Matt’s elbow supports his weight, caging in your head as he loops his fingers around the waistband of your panties. He nearly falls as his hips continue to mindlessly sputter into yours. 

“Are you…are you sure?” he asks. 

You’re left with nothing but desire, your hips lifting as you mumble another plea. Matt slides your underwear down your legs, the hot air gathering beneath the blankets making you even further aware of just how wet you are. 

The lack of fabric makes you whine as you feel the slick drip down. Your legs go to close shut, pulling Matt closer as you feel his bare length brush against your folds. 

An embarrassingly loud moan echoes from the both of you. Matt reaches over, grabbing a condom from his nightstand drawer before standing on his knees and sliding it on. 

“You’re…” he’s hypnotized as he runs his fingers through your wet pussy lips, nearly drooling at the sight of you writhing from the simple touch. You’re pulsing for him. “--you’re so wet, sweetheart.”

“Please.” you beg, dignity seeming to disappear as you lock your legs around him, pulling him against you. 

“Yeah?” Matt purrs softly, caging your head with his arm as he keeps himself propped above you, his lips tickling your ear as his other hand guides his tip along your wet slick. “Want me to fuck you, princess? Fill you up?” he husks, hissing as your hips move, desperately trying to suck him in as his tip glides right over your entrance. 

Your nails digging into his shoulder tell you how much you need him. “Please, Matt. Please, please–” 

“Shhh, shhh,” he coos, letting his tip line up with your dripping hole. He’s too sweet to torture you any longer. The pleas spilling from your lips were beyond thrilling, but all he wants to do is give you everything and more. “Relax for me, okay?” 

It’s hard to relax. Your muscles are tensing with anticipation and need. The second you feel his cock slipping into you, you’re a puddle of euphoria. It’s not even just the physical sensation. You just feel so close, so vulnerable and safe. 

“Oh,” your mouth drops open. The sensation of him stretching you open is blissfully perfect. So slow, so tender. 

“Yeah, god – just – just gonna fuck you nice and slow, okay? Just,” he starts to slowly rock his hips, pulling out after only half his length is buried in you. “-fuck, princess. You’re suckin’ me in,” he strains, gritting his teeth as he feels just how tight your walls are pulling him in. 

“-’m sorry, I,” your babbling nonsense. Matt huffs at your blissful state, a sense of pride from your vulnerable state making his dick sink deeper into you. He’s so close, he’s a part of you right now, carefully plunging his length into you slowly. 

“Oh – oh my god,” he breathes, hesitantly pushing himself deeper with each thrust, the twist of your hands in his hair giving him endless encouragement. 

Your mouth falls open, your head digging into the pillow as you let yourself be utterly consumed by every sensation. 

Matt’s cock is digging into you passionately. Every slow thrust is gliding right against such sensitive nerves inside of you, your walls gushing against him from how excessively wet he had already made you. 

“Shit,” he seethes, his elbow supporting his weight shifting as he lets his hand slide under your head, pulling you into his shoulder as he fucks you sweetly, romance oozing from his passionate movements with each rock of his hips.

You claw into his back. It all feels so intimate, so raw. 

“Matt, I — I,” you breathlessly heave, his motions faltering as a whimper falls past his lips. 

“Tell me. Please,” he cradles your head even closer into the crook of his neck. “-tell me how good I make you feel, sweetheart, I — need it, god,” he rasps. 

A sharp gasp pulls from your lips. He’s so deep, crawling into you with care and desperation to be closer – to make you feel good. 

“-so good, it’s—” 

Your words are cut off by a loud cry pushing past your lips. The sound of his pelvis smacking against yours as he completely bottoms out is everything. Pure devotion leaks through his aura as he clutches you impossibly closer, his hips unsteadily and sloppily fucking into you. 

“Mmmph, yeah…just…just wanna make my girl feel good, my – my pretty girl,” he hisses, your walls taking his length greedily. 

His intentions are displayed with nothing but love. His hips digging into yours over and over again as you feel a warmth spread inside your gut and your chest. 

“Matt, I’m –’m,” you swallow, completely blinded by waves of pleasure as he sinks into you over and over again, his whines becoming more frequent as his pace becomes more erratic. 

“I, please,” he begs, his fingers tangling in your hair as he hugs you even tighter, “-cum with me, princess. Need it, need you – need, oh, oh my,” he breathes your name over and over again, completely entranced as your pussy pulls him in, clenching and convulsing around his cock. 

“Matt!” you cry, completely stricken with vicious pleasure pulsing through every pore in your body, the overwhelming sensation making you feel so emotional as you cry his name. 

“Oh – mmmm,” Matt’s voice is completely strained. His cries and hums are muffled, his lips pursing as he focuses on fucking you so deeply, his love pouring from his mouth as he whispers sweet praises while riding out his high. “--fuck, so good, princess. Always so perfect for me, I – fuck,” his voice cracks, a cry of pleasure and raw emotion leaking from his heart, “-I love you. So much. Love, love, love you,” he repeats, heaving as he slows his hips to a stop, letting his weight rest on you as you both gasp for air. 

Matt can’t help but breathe his devotions. The words spill, making your chest tighten and relax at the same time. 

It’s just so pure.

So raw. 

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad

Woke up to see my phone open to my notes app and all it says on it is:

Jason is a Teenage Dad

- Jason is 15 and fucking dies.

- Clockwork shenanigans

- Jason drags his body out of the Lazarus

- Meets the eyes of a 3 year old Danny playing with the Joker’s decapitated head.

- Jason takes the child home. It is his now.

So, obviously, I gotta write about it. Enjoy this post based on the vision of delirious 4 am me.

……………….

Clockwork was bored. You would think the ability to see everything everywhere all at once would be overwhelming but it’s actually boring. There’s no suspense when you always know what’s going to happen. But that was all part of his job as the Ancient of time.

Every universe was scripted out. Each one was slightly different from the last, but it still had the same major things in there. For instance, there was always a Gotham in every universe. Sometimes the city itself, sometimes a comic book about the place as if it were fictional. The same with Amity Park except that one universe made it an anime instead of a kids show which was…. A choice.

Most of the time Clockwork just had to make sure that catalyst events happened no matter what the timeline. Like the adoption of Jason Todd. Or the death of Danny Fenton. The meteor that killed the dinosaurs. Stuff like that. Universes that didn’t have enough catalyst events like that tended to implode on themselves if some new event didn’t take its place.

Clockwork was looking at a universe at the moment that was definitely close to being expired. Could he let it happen? Sure. He could. But that wouldn’t have been much fun to watch.

In the universe he was looking at currently, Danny Fenton has all but disappeared at least according to the locals of Amity Park. Which wasn’t that bad. Easily fixable. However the much larger problem was that Jason Todd just died the wrong way. In most universes where his death took place, it always happened that same way as it was a catalyst event for that universe. Jason gets beat up by the joker and then dies in an explosion. Then he gets revived and healed by some assassins in a pit of really fucked up ecto. Standard procedure.

However in the universe Clockwork was looking at, Jason died due to the crowbar. There was no bomb. Infact, Batman didn’t even arrive to the scene until much later than he did in every other universe. The strangest part though, was that after killing Jason Todd, the Joker threw him into the Lazarus himself. There was no downtime or buffer. This kid was going to be alive again by the end of the week and unless Clockwork did some timeline adjustments, it was enough that the entire universe was inevitably going to fall apart.

Obviously fixing it wouldn’t be hard to do. If he did it the easy way. To rewrite Jason’s death. But that was kind of boring. So, Clockwork had a better idea.

…

Jason gasped suddenly and he felt liquid enter his lungs. He opened his eyes to see green. All around him. Shit, if he inhaled anymore liquid he could drown. So he started to try to swim towards what he thought was the surface. His body felt odd and disconnected from his brain making it hard to move but he kept going. He had to keep going. He didn’t want to die.

Finally, he felt his hand break the surface and latch onto a ledge. He pulled himself out of the green glowing Lazarus, trying to cough up as much liquid as possible.

Memories started to flood back to him. The fight. His mom. The Joker. The fucking crowbar. And most notably, no Batman. Batman never came. He was going to kill B for that.

Jason took a few deep breaths and let himself look around. His eyes immediately locked onto a child. Looked to be about 3. Pale with black hair and blue eyes. The boy was sitting with his legs crossed, covered in blood. He was playing with… something?

Jason couldn’t help but worry for the kid, hoping he did t fall into the pit. It was a dangerous place to be especially alone. Jason sat up to get a better look.

The moment he did, he saw the toddler’s eyes dart right into his own, the blue overpowered by a sudden glow of green. Lazarus green. A look of fear ran over the boy’s face as he froze in place.

Jason felt something in his chest churn, almost as if he could feel the fear dripping off of the child. He didn’t want to scare him. He didn’t want to hurt him. He wanted to get them both somewhere a bit more safe.

Jason stared at the boy, trying to not look menacing. He wanted him to know he could trust him. He felt whatever that new something inside his chest was also try to reach out. Jason didn’t notice when his own eyes turned green, but he did notice that the boy’s attitude shifted very quickly.

The toddler’s eyes went back to blue as the look of fear mostly washed out of his face. There was still some apprehension but it seemed that the two of them had silently come to an agreement of sorts that they were not enemies at least.

Jason looked down from the boy’s eyes and into his hands and whatever animosity Jason had within him was completely washed away. This kid had been through something horrific. In the toddler’s small arms was the decapitated and now decaying head of the Joker. Jason’s murderer.

Jason suddenly felt like this child in front of him was more important than anything else. Whatever he had gone through to land him in this place with that head was fucking over. Jason was going to protect this kid until the day he fucking died. Again. This child had gone through unimaginable things and Jason inherently knew that even though he knew nothing about this kid’s story, he was was going to be one of the very few who could really understand what he was going through.

“What is your name?” he asked as softly as he could.

The boy quietly responded in almost a whisper, “Danny.”

This kid was his kid now. To hell with wherever he came from. Jason was now a dad.

…

Bruce was distraught. Devastated. Completely inconsolable. Jason, his son, was dead. The Joker had confirmed it with a video of him laughing over the dead body. That was a week ago now. Bruce didn’t know what to do. He failed Jason. He wasn’t there when he should have. He couldn’t save him.

He had gotten delayed when he found out where Jason had gone and tried to go after him when a kid he’d seen at a few galas before, Tim was dropped out of the sky landing right on top of him with a post it note safety pinned to his back. He ignored it at the time as he was a little preoccupied.

After he got up again after the initial shock and realized it was just a kid, he tried to calm the nerves of young Tim who described watching his die and then being teleported into the sky and dropped. There was a chance that if Batman’s body hadn’t cushioned the fall, he would have been seriously injured.

He knew he couldn’t leave the young kid there by himself. And he knew that he had to find Jason. He didn’t want to bring him along either but the boy insisted that he wanted to come. Was it smart? No. Did he end up bringing Tim with him? Well yes. He was running out of time after all.

But Batman didn’t make it. The place was empty except for the dead body of Jason’s mother and a lot more blood that was undoubtedly his son’s.

Bruce was currently lying in his bed. He hadn’t gone out to do anything except for patrols. It was the only thing he could focus on. It was the the only thing he could bring himself to do. Bruce Wayne had the time to grieve for Jason Todd. Batman on the other hand did not have that. He had to remain vigilant and consistent. More importantly he had to find the Joker and send him away for killing Jason. Which would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t completely disappeared.

Bruce stared at the nightstand. It had the post it note that Tim had on his back when he fell. He had read it hundreds of times. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was just more proof that Jason was dead.

He took the post it note from the nightstand and read it again, hoping it was different. It was not.

Take this kid home. He’s Robin now :)

…

Tim didn’t really know what to do. His plans had come to fruition much faster than he had anticipated. After watching g his parents die, he had sworn to himself that he would find Bruce Wayne, the Batman, and convince him to let him help fight the evil of the city. But he didn’t expect that the moment he made that decision he would he plucked off his feet by unseen hands and then suddenly dropped from the sky.

That was over a week ago. Now, he was sitting on a large sofa in Wayne Manor. He was thinking. All he really had time to do was think. He had seen his first crime scene at Batman’s side and afterwards was brought back to the manor. He was left alone. He hadn’t seen Bruce hardly at all.

He wanted to do more. Go out and help with something. Anything. But Alfred wouldn’t let him go anywhere. So all he could do was think.

Did anything that had happened since his parent died make any sense? No. Joker deviated from his MO. But why? It was so different than anyone would have expected. There was no spectacle or epic battle with the Batman. He was just gone with a dead body behind. Nothing else.

And that was AFTER Tim was teleported into the middle of the sky. If he just had more resources, maybe a computer or some books that he could dive into to, he could figure it out. There had to be SOME reason. Right? But he had already checked the books in the manor library and Alfred wouldn’t let him into the poorly hidden Batcave. He only had his own thoughts.

He would grieve his parents with that time but he could also just as easily do that later. Besides, he had already decided he was going to become a vigilante and help the Batman. And most importantly, there was a puzzle in front of him that he wanted to solve more.

…

Jason knocked on the door the manor. He was nervous to see B again. Since according to newspapers he had been gone for a week. He knew his dad was gonna be mad that he went to see his mom. And mad he was gone so long. Jason knew he was going to get chewed out for it but he just wanted to be home. Especially since he was going to need help raising Danny. He didn’t know how adoption worked and Jason was only 15 but he was sure B knew how to do all that.

Danny was currently in his arms. He was so small compared to Jason now. Before he had died, he was wasn’t nearly this big. Jason had muscle sure but he was still relatively lean. Now, Jason was built more like a brick house. His shoulders were wider than a typical doorway and he was much taller, at least 6’4.

Danny was sleeping at the moment. He still had the Jokers head in his arms. He hadn’t been able to convince the kid to let it go. Which was fine. Jason didn’t really know what to do with it anyways.

Some shuffling was heard and then the door opened. Alfred was staring back at him.

“Hey sorry I was gone,” Jason said, not really sure what else to say.

Alfred looked from Jason to Danny to Jason, double take on Danny. His face was hard to read. Jason was kind of nervous.

Alfred stepped out of the doorway. Behind him was B.

“Jason!?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

Part 2 Part 3

[pomefioredove]

having a crush on you

summary: how they would act having a crush on you type of post: headcanons characters: pomefiore (vil, rook, epel) additional info: reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, not proofread, hi I'm insane and I love pining, I NEED to write another fic but with rook. might write this same prompt with other dorms

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

don't take his calm and collected facade as apathy

he's slowly losing his mind about this

"pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself, falling asleep thinking about you" kind of losing his mind

it's my personal belief that Vil hasn't been in love before this

hasn't even really thought about it

so when you enter the picture it kinda throws him off balance

and with the exception of Rook, no one can even tell

he is an actor, after all, he can play the part of "totally platonic friends with room for Jesus"

(maybe a little too well)

but Vil isn't entirely emotionally repressed

he keeps things to himself, yes, but he's quite conscious of his own wants and needs

so when he realizes he's been craving your presence more than usual he does acknowledge it

in his head

and then does nothing about it for months

...what? he's busy

things like this can wait for him, and he doesn't want to put a rift between you two in case it might be a passing feeling

well... it doesn't pass

he becomes keenly aware of how much he wants you around him, how much he thinks about you, how much your very presence is enough to make him happier than he's ever... really felt

and you know what?

he is totally cool about it.

just kidding. he drives himself insane trying to think of the perfect way to confess, something that will impress you and meet his standards

he's dropping hints left and right and you don't seem to be picking any of them up

which again, just makes him crazy

(some days he really wants to ask you how oblivious one person can be, but he restrains himself)

I mean, how many times can he send you red tulips before you finally get the hint? he's practically spelling it out for you!

there is... a tiny, little part of him that worries you don't reciprocate

is he not your type? are you interested in someone else? perhaps he'd been too harsh on you, after all...

the fact that one little potato can make him so worried absolutely drives him mad

he is the vision of poise and grace and you are ruining him

and this sort of mood comes and goes in waves

just when he thinks he's pulled himself back together, you'll smile at him or say something cute and suddenly he's back to square one

(you're so adorable it's annoying -_-)

while he's sorting out a good way to express his feelings properly, he'll be spending all his free time with you

you need some new things? he'll be glad to take you shopping

you came over to see Epel? oh, well, he's not here, but you should stay for some tea, anyway!

your afternoon is free? he has some new lip gloss he's been dying to test out...

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

contrary to popular belief, I don't think Rook would be so open about it

he still compliments you, of course, and sings praises of your beauty and elegance, and has little regard for personal space, as always

but he's like that with a lot of people, so it's hard to really tell when he likes someone

the truth of the matter is that Rook Hunt can be just as reserved with his feelings as anyone else

when he really, really likes someone, he keeps it to himself

why?

he's hunting you he's learning more about you before making his true feelings known

he feels it's necessary to have an adequate amount of information on his target before making a move, after all

for reference: you catch his eye at orientation, and do not have a single conversation with him until after winter break

(of course, after that, you start mysteriously running into him everywhere)

is he kinda weird about it? uh. yeah.

this is Rook we're talking about

on the other hand, he's completely lovesick about you and it's almost cute

he's definitely the type to write your initials in a journal with a glitter pen while kicking his feet back and forth and giggling

seeing if you would sound better with his last name or he with yours...

definitely has a very weird photo collection of you somewhere in his room

along with stacks of poems, pressed flowers, and little gifts he intends to give you once he's won you over

(when, not if. Rook is nothing if not patient)

you may find a rose left outside Ramshackle every so often

or a few cans of tuna for Grim

all while acting like the same old eccentric Rook, no discernable difference

except when you can feel his eyes on you at random places in the middle of the day

Ace and Deuce call you paranoid but you can't shake the feeling

though, every once in a while he'll get a little grumpy

Rook is easily jealous, and while that sort of possessiveness never extended to untouchable idols like Vil and Neige, he's already decided that you're his prey

and he'd kindly ask everyone else to find their own, thank you

he hasn't exactly planned the confession yet, but just know it's probably going to be the sweetest and craziest you've ever heard

𝐄𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫

first of all he's going to fight you for making him like you so much

second of all he's going to beg for a chance

maybe not in that exact order

Epel is constantly at war with his own emotions and having romance thrown in the mix is. uh. not optimal

not only does it ruin the stoic, strong male persona he's been trying to build, but it's also making him feel all soft and gushy

suddenly he cares about looking nice

(much to Vil's approval)

and now he wants to do nice things for you?

he's gonna bite you

how dare you make him think about kissing and holding hands!

don't you know he's supposed to be above all this romantic stuff? what is he, Rook?!

then, after his initial temper tantrum, he starts coping. hard.

he might be able to stomach the idea of being an item if he gets to wear the pants in the relationship

...yeah, right? right.

if you let him be the man, if you let him protect you...

he might be okay with it!

obviously he starts trying to show off his manly strength (seriously) every time he sees you

starts making comments about how tough practice was on him

will literally never let anyone else carry anything for you ever again

he even provides for you (in payments of apple juice)

obviously this backfires 'cause the second you do something that gives him butterflies he's back to giggling

(you'll have to ease him into the idea of being soft and romantic together, but he'll get there)

but, to his credit, he'd be the first out of all the above to confess

super suddenly and out of nowhere (and he ends up shouting it cause he didn't want to sound chicken) but it's sweet in its own way

[notaplaceofhonour]

A reminder that Anti-Israel doesn’t mean “Pro-Palestinian”.

The militant faction referenced here is Ansar Allah (aka The Houthi Movement, commonly known as just “the Houthis”), a totalitarian theocracy that does not mince words about hating not just Israel, but the Jewish people. Their slogan, which they display as the symbol for their movement, is “God is the Greatest; Death to America; Death to Israel; A Curse On the Jews; Victory to Islam”.

Also no, the Houthis didn’t risk jack shit for Palestine. They’re one in a long line of militant factions who are directly responsible for the humanitarian crisis in Yemen. Abandoning their own people’s humanitarian needs to wage war isn’t a “risk” for them; it’s standard operating procedure.

The people obscuring this fact to position them as heroes for opposing Israel are engaging in dishonest, manipulative, and immensely antisemitic propaganda. (Also, like, “puppets”? Really? That’s not even subtle.) You do not even have to scratch beyond the surface of just “who is this referencing, and what is their slogan that they plaster everywhere on everything?” to know this. The fact that anyone would fall for it demonstrates gross negligence & a deep & unserious lack of curiosity on their part. There’s no excuse.

But what if you did actually spend more than 5 seconds to know more than 2 facts about the government of Yemen? Well, you might find:

There is a long history of antisemitic violence in Yemen. It culminated in 1949, and roughly 47,000 of Yemen’s 50,000+ Jews fled to Israel. A few remained, but the Houthi regime (which formed in the 90’s and is the one that is now attacking Israeli ships) is so openly, explicitly, & genocidally antisemitic that it forced even that remnant to flee.

The last Jew in Yemen, Levi Salem Musa Murhabi, is currently rotting in a Houthi prison where he has been illegally detained & tortured for the last 7+ years. Our last sign of life was in 2022, so we don’t actually know if he’s still alive.

The country that tried to murder all their Jews & continues to torture the only one that remains is now attacking the country where all those Jews went, all the while chanting “death to Israel, a curse on the Jews.” Do the math. They didn’t “show up” for Palestinians. They pulled up on Israel because that’s where all the Jews they’ve been trying to murder for years live.

[fudgeez]

Imagine Kim Min-jeong (WINTER), CEO of AESPA Industries, is a force to be reckoned with. Known for her icy demeanor, ruthless efficiency, and impossibly high standards, she's burned through personal assistants like kindling.

You, Y/N, are the exception. You've somehow managed to survive, even thrive, in the chaotic whirlwind that is Winter's work life. Everyone else sees a cold, narcissistic tyrant. You see a woman who, behind closed doors, is surprisingly sweet, clingy, and utterly devoted to you.

masterlist

Imagine CEO Winter,

exhausted after a long day, letting out a rare, frustrated sigh as she unbuttons the top of her blouse. She’s still at her desk, papers scattered everywhere, but when you walk over and silently begin massaging her shoulders, she immediately melts under your touch.

“You’re too good to me,” she mumbles, her voice heavy with sleep as she leans into you.

“Only because I love you,” you reply. And for the first time that day, Winter smiles.

Imagine CEO Winter,

livid over a miscalculated project, her sharp voice slicing through the conference room as she glares at the trembling employee in front of her. She’s on the verge of firing them, the tension so thick you can hear a pin drop—until you calmly step beside her and place a hand on her wrist.

“Relax,” you murmur softly, just for her to hear. “Everything is fine. Let them fix it.”

She exhales sharply, her jaw tightening as she looks at you, the only person in the world who can tell her what to do without consequence. After a long moment, she relents, waving a dismissive hand. “Fix it. Now.”

The employees are stunned. You’re the only one who can rein her in, the only one she actually listens to. They assume you have some sort of supernatural influence over her.

What they don’t know is that the same ruthless CEO who just struck fear into an entire boardroom will later be curled up in your arms, quietly asking you to play with her hair until she falls asleep.

Imagine CEO Winter,

publicly untouchable, always perfectly composed. But behind closed doors, after hours, she’s sprawled on the couch in her office, her head resting on your lap, mumbling sleepily as you run your fingers through her hair.

“I think I like this more than running a company,” she whispers, her voice drowsy, her walls completely gone. And you only smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Imagine CEO Winter,

known for her ruthless efficiency and cutting remarks, pausing in the middle of reviewing an important contract to glance at you. She doesn’t say anything—she just watches as you type away, her usually cold expression softening ever so slightly. Then, as if it never happened, she returns to her work.

You pretend not to notice, but later, when you bring her coffee, you find a sticky note on your desk with a simple,

handwritten message: I miss you :(

Imagine CEO Winter,

infamous for being impossible to please, smirking when she sees you scolding her for skipping lunch. “You’re really bold for an assistant,” she teases, leaning back in her chair. You roll your eyes, setting her food down with a pointed glare.

“Eat love.” She chuckles, amused, but the moment you turn to leave, she grabs your wrist, pulling you down to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Kim” she whispers just for you, before finally digging into her meal.

Imagine CEO Winter,

seated at the head of a long conference table, her cold gaze fixed on the client sitting across from you. The meeting had been going smoothly—until the client made the mistake of getting too friendly, their compliments toward you becoming increasingly bold.

You were about to brush it off, but before you could speak, Winter’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

“I suggest you remember who you’re speaking to.” Her tone is calm, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it, her fingers lightly tapping against the table in warning.

The client chuckles nervously, trying to play it off, but Winter isn’t amused. Her eyes darken, and she leans forward slightly, her presence suffocating. “Flirt with my assistant again, and we’ll reconsider this partnership.”

The entire room falls silent.

The client stammers an apology, their confidence crumbling under Winter’s icy glare. After the meeting, as soon as the door closes, Winter pulls you close by the waist, her lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” she whispers possessively, her voice low and unwavering. “And I don’t like sharing." Later that night, she makes sure you really understand just how much she means that.

[littlelovelunette]

hiii i’ve never requested anything b4 so idk but i wondering if u could do one where sevika mentions love the light freckles and beauty marks (i have both🤪) on readers face and reader being shocked that someone would notice such small details about her since no one had ever made her feel seen and cared for before (idk if this makes sense but🤷🏻‍♀️)

Little Bits

You and Sevika had only started dating and every single date would be a test of your makeup skills because you would take atleast an hour to settle the concealer on your face, hiding your freckles and beauty marks.

It wasn't that you were insecure but you just wanted to look like everyone else who didn't have freckles or beauty marks. Just to fit the beauty standards.

With a sigh, you reached forward and uncapped the tube of concealer and began your makeup. Where would Sevika take you today? You both were relatively shy about the entire relationship and you knew Sevika wasnt one for grand gestures but that's fine.

You put on some lip tint to end your makeup and brushed your hair, doing a loose braid. Your phone chimed and you instinctively smiled at the screen seeing Sevika's text. "Where are you?" You walked to the balcony that was curtained and peeked a little and there she was.

Sevika stood by the pavement in front of your apartment, eyes on her phone's screen and mechanical hand holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

"Come inside." You texted her back and saw Sevika walk into the apartment unit. You opened the door before she could knock, greeting her with a smile.

"Flowers for m'lady." Sevika said giving you the bouquet, you laughed. "Where'd you learn that from?"

"Nowhere." She grumbled you had the gist she learned it from Jinx who was the matchmaker afterall. You stepped aside to let Sevika come inside the apartment, "It seems like it's gonna rain." Sevika said as she took a look out the window and up at the grey clouds.

You put the flowers in a vase, taking in a small whiff, smiling.

"Mhm. You agreed and quickly put away the concealer tube you were holding, "I just have to put something back in my room, I'll be right back." You said hurriedly and made for an awkward half-run half-walk to your room.

You stuffed the tube hastily into your makeup purse and walked back to Sevika.

"You have a nice apartment." Sevika looked around, eyes fixing in the decorations of the spacious apartment. It was minimalistic and you liked it that way.

"Thanks." You blushed a little but tried your best recompose yourself.

"You live alone?" Sevika asked, finally turning to meet your gaze.

"Yeah, why?" You inquired

"It's just— it's not the safest to be living alone in a place like Zaun, I mean it is but that's only if you're good with self defense." Sevika rubbed the back of her neck.

"Are you saying I don't know how to defend myself?" You smiled, a little teasing tone picking up with your words.

"Do you?"

"You bet your sweet ass I do."

You heard the dripping outside, you knew it was raining. The soft scent of rain filled the air making you rush to be window like an excited kid. "It's raining! It's raining!"

Sevika chuckled coming up behind you and holding your waist. "You like the rain?"

"A lot! Let's go out!" You made for a run but were held back by Sevika.

"You'll catch a cold." Sevika grumbled under her breath but watching you stare up at her with those pitiful puppy eyes really had an effect on her. "I guess a few minutes in the rain will be fine."

As you stepped on the rain, Sevika followed you there. You smiled up, letting the rain droplets soak your face, dancing around happily and splattering water everywhere.

Sevika laughed at the side, a full and hearty sound, something you were glad to be the one to hear. Sevika held you by the waist to ensure you didn't slip and fall. Everything felt perfect, until...

Your hair came up instinctively to rub your face because the water was getting into your eyes, once you withdrew your hand there was your concealer on your hand. It was smudging off due to the water...

Panic stroke your brain and you tried to gesture Sevika to go back inside but she didn't let you. "We just got here, what's the deal?"

Once Sevika's grey eyes locked onto your face she smiled, "You have freckles." She raised a hand and cupped your face with her flesh hand, stroking the side lovingly. "And they're so pretty."

Your heart almost stopped beating. "They're p-pretty?" You stuttered making Sevika chuckle, eyes softening as she gave you a nod of affirmation.

"Very," Sevika pushed your hair out of your face, "So are your beauty marks."

"No one's ever said that to me," you said looking down as water droplets fell out of your hair and lashes. You looked so beautiful right then if Sevika could take a picture of you, she'd keep that in her wallet.

"Others don't matter, you and I do," Sevika said before slowly tilting your head up for a soft, tender kiss. A kiss in the rain for you.

[iridescentrays]

warnings: spoilers from the manga! (+ my brainrot form of writing..)

a/n: oh my gyatt thanks for the support for last chap 😭

prev chap ꩜ next chap

It was supposed to be a normal day

The cafeteria was loud, with students and gunshots being heard everywhere in the building. That was the norm of the JCC.

Sakamoto chewed his rice while watching his two (and only) “friends” fight over something stupid.

Again, the usual.

Rion was pulling on Nagumo’s ear, nagging him about what happened yesterday.

“JUST GO DO IT ALREADY”, she tried prying him off his seat.

Sakamoto knew Nagumo was a well rounded person (no matter how hard he tries to deny it).

His skills proved to be valuable in any situation, even helping Sakamoto score an ‘A’ in that one self-defense class last semester (he stills owes him one for that).

His smug personality was born from all those qualities. Unfortunately, Sakamoto has learned (the hard way) Nagumo still hasn’t got an ounce of shame.

That was the standard up until now.

“It’s too scary”, Nagumo laughed and surprisingly held on to the table (that was on the edge of collapsing). ‘well thats nagumo for you…’

But failing to talk a girl was the most abnormal Sakamoto has ever witnessed.

Sakamoto continued eating as Rion kept smacking the former spy’s head, ignoring the two.

“DON’T BE A WIMP! Hey Sakamoto!! Help me out!”

He kept chewing.

“This is why you two are going to die single…”

Nagumo smuggled his way out of Akao’s grasp, “C’mon now! It’s not that big of a deal”, he flashed a smile.

“Shut up you bum. You had a crush on her EVER since last semester. I’m really surprised she hasn’t caught you staring…”

“Hey!”

Sakamoto sighed and sat his chopsticks down, “Shes right over there”, he pointed.

All of them whipped their heads towards you, attempting to get your meal in a mob full of student assassins.

“Nuh uh you guys aren’t going no where”, Rion held them still, as the two of them tried running away. Both of them sighed, but made no move of retaliating.

“Sakamoto, you’re still helping”

‘There goes my normal day….’

‘can they hurry up…’, you groaned.

Honestly, this was not the time to be waiting around for these biggies blocking the way. It was rush hour, with all the students raving about the special item of the day.

It was strawberry cheesecake, one of your favorites.

Obviously, you didn’t bother getting it. The hassle was too much, and all the other guys who wanted it might beat you up!

Expecially those guys from yesterday…

You shivered, just thinking about them made you more wary.

Usually, you paid no mind to Nagumo’s gang when they were coincidentally in the cafeteria with you. But ever since yesterday, you started to feel more “bloodlust” emitted from them.

You took note of their position, and which they were still staring. ‘man, what did i do….’, you sighed.

Quickly maneuvering your way to the front, you tried grabbing your tray. Unfortunately for you, no one in the vicinity seemed to have any spacial awareness. You yelped as you stumbled backwards, praying for some miracle to save your food.

“Woah there, you almost fell!”

Lo and behold, the worst possible person caught you at that exact moment.

As you scrambled back up (and dusting away the likely chance of his stalkerish germs), his boyish grin sent shock waves through you.

‘he’s definitely gonna kill me…or!! maybe make me do something for him since he had to catch me—’

“Hey, are you okay?”

No you were not.

“Yes! I’m fine, uhm..thanks for saving my food…”, you awkwardly chuckled.

Nagumo smiled in response (the smirk of the devil one may say). “Here’s your tray! I’ll be there to catch you next time you fall!”

What.

Was that a warning? Nagumo waved goodbye, after he plopped your tray of food into your arms. He pridefully marched his way towards his friends who just stopped hiding around the corner. They both held their thumbs up as he arrived.

‘Definitely a threat’

This school was absolutely horrible. You huffed and walked away.

Literally what have you done to be picked on? You just wanted to be left alone and finish this stupid assassin school quietly. ‘Does this school even have a policy against bullying..?’

Finally escaping outside, there was the refreshing sound of silence. Sighing in relief, you looked at your food…only to find most of it crushed.

‘I’m not surprised…’ you groaned.

The napkin was crinkled up, the rice was now cold and mushy, and the cheesecake—

‘Strawberry cheesecake? How did that get there…’

It was wrapped up cutely like someone had specially ordered it for you. The cake itself remianed unscathed, with none of the frosting or strawberries touching the packaging.

“What a nice gift!”

Life recently was just too much. It was nice having an award after all what happened. Maybe you should even thank the mystery person who gifted you this!

After taking a bite of the dessert, you remembered how stressful yesterday and today was due to that Nagumo crew…

wait was this from him?

You stopped mid-chew. Was this planted? How did he know? Does it have poison?!

You immediately spat out the cake and threw it away. No one was gonna kill you today! Those people think they’re soo smart trying to poison you with sweets, but they’re just amateur assassins!

Wait, this all started since Nagumo couldn’t stop staring at you in class. Eventually, his friends picked on and started ganging up on you as well! Maybe if you would just evade the source, they would leave you alone!

And so, the mission began:

Avoid Nagumo at all costs.

“I think she likes me already!”

“Maybe you should be more bold…to take her attention away”, Rion hummed.

“I still don’t think she likes you…”

“How mean! Sakamoto, you’re just a hater!!”

The man sighed, not wanting to deal with Nagumo. They were lounging on the roof, watching over where you were sitting at (in support of Nagumo’s one-sided crush)

“Wait, look she’s gonna take a bite!”, Rion pointed out. Nagumo rushed over, “accidentally” pushing away his other two comrades in the process.

They stood in silence, watching everything.

“uh..”

“Nagumo…you sure she likes cheesecake—”

“Sakamoto, it’s probably not best to talk to him while he’s mourning…”, Rion sighed.

MISSION STAUS : UNSUCCESSFUL

[fallinqstxrs]

buttoned up.

content - caitlyn x autistic!reader. suggestive (ish?). 1k words. reader and cait are a bit younger than in act ll.

a/n - hihi so first fic ive ever posted on tumblr!! lmk if i should make a part 2 to this because i lowk love it and i hope you guys like it too :)

to the contrary of what others may have thought, caitlyn kiramman hated social events. sure, she was raised in ballrooms and galas with good posture and pretty dresses, but it really wasn’t her scene. the people were absolute assholes who were only concerned with being self-righteous and pompous, and they all got off on making money and discriminating against anybody who didn’t fit their standards of perfection. it made caitlyn’s stomach turn with utter disgust.

however, she found herself stuck at one of those said events tonight. it was quite frankly a dumb gala for piltover’s council. her mother had dragged her to it with a harsh tone and sweet nothings consisting of status and a ‘good appearance’ for the kiramman family. that had led her to now, donned in a floor-length black dress and swirling a champagne glass idly in her perfectly manicured hand. caitlyn gazed around the room, looking for anything that was remotely worth her time. there was cassandra, talking with other council people, whom she didn’t particularly care about enough to know their names. there were a few other girls talking and laughing in a corner, pointing and laughing at something. caitlyn followed a girl’s pointed finger in her line of vision and - oh. oh. 

those girls were laughing at a person. you. you were sitting on a high stool at the open bar, talking to the bartender who had a kind yet… slightly pitying smile on his face. you had a glass of sprite on the counter close to you, and something was sat in your lap. caitlyn couldn’t quite tell what. she sighed softly, downing the rest of her champagne glass in one gulp - a gesture cassandra would say was ‘unladylike’ - and started to stride towards you, heels clicking against the floor.

she pulled out the high stool beside you, sitting down with little difficulty because of her 6’1” frame, accentuated with the heels. “can i have a glass of champagne?” she asked the bartender in a soft tone, her british accent lilting at the edges. the man scurried away, seemingly thankful for another task to do.

caitlyn looked at you, observing without judgement. you were certainly very pretty, hair slightly falling in your face with gold jewelry adorning your ears, neck, and wrists. you had a strapless navy blue dress on, which was very pretty (albeit very short, but caitlyn didn’t mind the view of your creamy and soft-looking thighs). however, there was one thing that surprised her - you had a small stuffed bunny in your lap, your hands playing with its ears as your lips quirked up in a smile.

caitlyn was slightly surprised when her own voice interrupted her thoughts. “i like your bunny. does it have a name?”

you looked up, eyes drifting towards caitlyn. “are… are you talking to me?” 

caitlyn noticed that your gaze rested on her cheek, never quite making eye contact. she smiled softly, not wanting to scare you off. “yes, i am.”

“oh. well… his name is button. i bring him everywhere.” you were slightly chewing on your lip, smudging your pretty lip gloss that caitlyn definitely didn’t want to taste.

she shook those thoughts out of her head. god, was her libido really that high? “i like that name. it’s very cute. i’m caitlyn.”

you looked back down at the stuffed bunny in your lap, smiling softly. when you said your name, caitlyn almost fainted at the way the word rolled off of your tongue. she snapped out of the slight trance she had fallen into when she heard a soft “it’s nice to meet you” escape your mouth.

“how old are you?” caitlyn turned herself more to face you, getting a better view of your face and your upper chest, which was slightly revealed due to your dress. caitlyn filed that thought away for… other purposes.

“i’m eighteen. how old are you?” you turned towards caitlyn a bit, almost an imperceptible amount. she could feel your gaze on her collarbone, still not looking her in the eye.

“nineteen.” caitlyn smiled softly, drumming her nails on the counter.

 you were enthralled by caitlyn’s smooth voice, its tendrils coating your skin and soothing it from the itchy dress that your mother had made you put on for this event. you remember tears prickling at the edges of your conscience and threatening to spill in fat, wet streaks down your cheeks. you never liked being told what to do and straying from your routine, but this new girl didn’t seem like an… unwelcome difference.

“that’s cool. are you friends with those girls over there?” you pointed to the corner from earlier, caitlyn’s eyes traveling to the girls who were still standing there, whispering and staring with what she knew were snarky tones. her gaze traveled back to you when you continued your question with the soft words “they were laughing at me earlier. i’m not sure why.” your grip tightened on button as caitlyn’s heart ached for your naivety. 

“no, no, sweetheart, i’m not friends with them. i’m sorry, darling, they seem mean.” caitlyn’s eyes didn’t miss the slight redness that colored your cheeks as the pet names carelessly spilled from her lips.

“okay. it’s nice to have someone to talk to who isn’t grown up.” you smiled into your lap, still not looking directly at caitlyn, playing with button’s stuffed limbs.

“yeah. you’re nice to talk to. button is also nice to talk to, too.” caitlyn reached out her hand to tap on the stuffed bunny’s head. your breath became slightly irregular at caitlyn touching your bunny, but you decided to let it slide because your brain didn’t think she was being mean. more like hoped.

your voice slipped from your lips at a higher pitch, but you managed to even it out halfway through your sentence. “button doesn’t talk, but he’s really good at listening.”

“oh? i like to think i’m good at listening too. maybe button and i have something in common.” caitlyn grinned, showing off her tooth gap that she knew made girls melt.

you let out a soft breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “yeah. maybe.”

[humanjarvis]

lads LIs as iconic pop albums

sylus as dangerous woman

edgy on the surface, soulful & charming on the inside

knows their worth, stepped on the scene ready to prove a point

feigns nonchalance but cries and throws up over relationship

jack of all trades: can be dark & mysterious, wistful, flirty, fun & lively, or rebellious

xavier as 1989

bright lights, big city, bigger emotions ​

vibrant but soft enough to be comforting

simple aesthetic, but witty & profound underneath

overcoming the past to move forward with love

zayne as 21

shows, doesn’t tell: doesn’t need to be flashy to win hearts

the standard. the ones you’d introduce to your family. massive appeal to the general public

speaks indirectly at times, but there’s an underlying sincerity that tugs at your heartstrings

warm hug on a rainy day

rafayel as ARTPOP

sensual (both overtly and in ways you don’t realize until it’s too late)

artistic integrity above fame

melodramatic

chronically misunderstood (NOT EVERYBODY GETS IT. but the ones who get it, get it)

caleb as teenage dream

corny but in an endearing, nostalgic way

innuendos everywhere

inexperienced with relationships but trying really hard

star of the show, had all the potential in the world only to fall from grace (katy perry flop era, caleb plane crash then explosion then fake death)

[ms-demeanor]

Man. I'm doing research on FOSS stuff for a class and that means I've found myself a couple of old (ten years, is that really that old?) books to read and. You know. I'm not *old* but there's a definite time vertigo in the realization that young people getting into computing today likely don't remember 9/11 or the rise of the post-9/11 security state, which was a MASSIVE driver for change in privacy standards and the need for encryption. That time vertigo got EVEN WORSE when I opened up an article in this book that said "It has been more than a decade since the wall fell."

I am not really old enough to remember the fall of the Berlin Wall but I am *just* old enough to remember end-of-history discourse and when the wall was the historical frame that everyone used for discussing modernity.

Now it's pre/post-covid and it's making me curious how that framing will impact the way things are seen simply because globally there was so much more stake in it than in previous framings (not that there wasn't global *fallout* from shit like 9/11, but people saw real local responses everywhere on the planet as a result of Covid and we now have handy dandy comparisons to make between the extremely visible results of those responses).

Anyway, no matter what era of history we're in, information always wants to be free.

[serpentface]

!!!!!RISKY POST INCOMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE'S ILLUSTRATED EXAMPLES

Erotic art forms in Wardi culture largely center around a variety of visual arts and poetry.

Visual erotic art falls under a wide swath of materials, purposes, and uses. It ranges from art that exclusively intends to be pleasing to the viewer (while not necessarily outright Arousing) to art with utilitarian ritual functions. While Wardi culture has very strict standards and regulations around interpersonal Acts of sexuality, Depictions of sex (including acts that are frowned upon or severely taboo if actually performed) are not considered inappropriate or something purely for a private setting, and are something the average person is entirely accommodated to. As such, erotic art commonly has a place in everyday objects- drinking vessels, plates, oil lamps, pottery, etc- and in decoration- statuary, frescoes, textiles, mosaics, etc. It's not a Predominant theme, but most well-decorated homes will have at least a few erotic art objects.

There isn’t really a concept of 'pornography' in the sense of uniquely explicit art exclusively for the purpose of sexual gratification, but there are (often subtle) measures that distinguish a sort of ‘highbrow’ erotic art appropriate for public viewing (either in literal public areas, or in common areas of the home where guests can visit) and ‘lowbrow’ erotic art that is reserved for private areas of the home (and sometimes brothels).

This distinction revolves less around the explicit nature of the sex act, and more around What in particular is shown. Actual depictions of a spread vulva in a sexual context tend to be ‘lowbrow’ (note the distinction of the sexual context- some of the most common apotropaic motifs directly depict or heavily invoke a spread vulva). Visible depiction of the human anus is virtually always ‘lowbrow’, and is very rare in erotic art in general. Both organs are conventionally regarded as ugly, though the vulva has highly positive connotations of abundance and renewal while the anus is, at absolute best, a hole you can stick a penis into.

Depiction of sex acts seen as taboo or disgusting, inappropriate, (mutually) emasculating, or otherwise undignified occupy an ambiguous middle ground- too lowbrow for common public spaces, but appropriate in certain semi-public contexts due to their usually humorous and entertaining intent. Depicting shocking or widely mocked sexual practices often (at least ostensibly) seeks to elicit a comedic response from the audience. (Some examples on a diminishing scale of perceived severity- bestiality, rimming, a woman penetrating a man with a dildo, a man masturbating with a dildo, mutual fellatio between men, a man performing cunnilingus.).

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The element of voyeurism is VERY significant to the Wardi concept of erotic art. Some art that wouldn’t even slightly be read as erotic by an outside viewer is squarely so by means of depicting people (usually women) in highly private domestic spheres which no one but close kin/spouses typically has access to. This can be evoked more easily and directly with women, who are expected to veil outdoors and in fully public settings, and to keep the hair braided everywhere outside of the private spaces of the home. This norm is strictly enforced among the upper classes and is followed fairly uniformly across class lines outside of the most extreme poverty (and some heavily rural settings). In a lot of instances, the only women any given person sees both without a veil and with unbraided hair on a regular basis (outside of their immediate family, or their wife) will be sex workers out in public. The depiction of a desirable, upstanding woman unadorned heavily implies the viewer's presence into a controlled domestic space (with undertones of sexual vulnerability), and has a distinctly erotic component.

It’s less the unbraided hair in of itself that is sexual (though this norm certainly leads to more people than average having sexual fixations on hair)- women in public with loose hair tend to be regarded more as lowly and unkempt than as objects of desire. The specific fantasy is that this is a woman of good standing in a private place and You are there, watching her.

In more explicit art, the hair being half braided during sex is a very common motif. It suggests that the process of the woman undoing her hair has been interrupted for sex, which can be compelling for viewers. It can imply her lover is so revved up that he could not wait once they both entered a private setting, as well as functioning as wish fulfillment in contrast to the tamer voyeuristic art- the viewer is no longer just looking in on the scene, but rather is invited to participate.

Depiction of a young woman noblewoman unbraiding and combing her hair, executed by a highly skilled pottery painter. While there is nothing overtly sexual in this image, this would be considered erotic art. The viewer finds themselves looking in on a highly private scene of an upstanding, sexually desirable young woman, in a physical state that would likely only be seen by a husband.

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Art objects depicting actual sex acts are common and come in great variety. The vast majority depict men with women, but all gender combinations Can be within the sphere of 'highbrow' public art.

More work from the same painter depicting an older man and a beardless youth, who (for the sake of keeping this post up) could just be in a charged, artistically nude embrace for all you know. The youth is heavily implied to be a sex worker- he wears a short haircut typical of a teenage boy, but the presence of full sideburns indicate that he is well beyond puberty, possibly shaving a beard and keeping his hair short to maintain a youthful appearance. This visual performance is very typical of male sex workers, as means of attracting clientele predominantly interested in very young men. Though on the older side of the 'beardless youth' spectrum, his body is still conventionally desirable for a male partner. Neither the presence or the older man's cloak around his waist nor the youth's distinct lack of arousal is a desperate attempt to keep this post from being nuked (though my choice of this subject matter to begin with is), and instead represents actual artistic conventions. The older man's partly clothed state serves to dignify him in comparison to his partner and emphasize their difference in status. An unmistakable clarity of power differential is common in depictions of male homosexuality made for a mass public audience, allowing the image to be conventionally pleasing and attractive. Similarly, squarely 'highbrow' depictions of male homosexual acts tend to imply no sexual gratification on the part of a receiver, as the position is emasculating and shameful and this act is often described as being exclusively pleasurable for the top. The youth's function in this image is mainly to be a desirable male body and to glorify his partner in comparison. Depictions of more amorous/more power-ambiguous male homosexuality are conventionally acceptable, but largely relegated to the semi-private sphere, and are often intended and/or received as humorous in nature.

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The above examples serve primary functions of pleasing the viewer with their imagery, but a wide swath of erotic art has simultaneous aesthetic and ritual/magical functions. Imagery in of itself is thought to have a degree of metaphysical power, and depictions of sex (and pregnancy/childbirth) on utilitarian objects often seeks to spiritually benefit the user in its use.

A decorative ceramic oil vessel featuring a coupling man and woman. The imagery of this vessel has, aside from the typical blank expressions, a distinct sense of tenderness, with the couple positioned close together and holding each other's bodies. The smear of white on their foreheads represents amenchalme, a sanctified substance used to give blessings. This heavily implies that this is a wedding consummation (as a full blessing of the couple occurs at the end of the ceremonies). The wife appears to be pregnant, which is unlikely to be an implication that she was married while already carrying (which is generally shameful outside of cases of remarrying widows), but rather intends to show the act and its successful result simultaneously. Lotus flowers (symbols of renewal and fertility) and a stylized version of the abundance character (here doubling as roots) decorate the body of the vessel. This is a multi-purpose erotic art object. It has aesthetic beauty but does not intend to be titillating. Its imagery evokes the hope for a happy marriage and the fertility of the couple. While not a specific ritual object, it may serve ritual and/or folk magic functions regarding fertility and childbirth in its usage. It might hold oil rubbed to soothe a pregnant belly, or to give in home offerings during prayers, all while imparting a sense of the blessings it suggests onto the user.

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Other erotic art serves entirely ritual functions, with no concerns for pleasing or titillating the viewer. Genitalia in complete isolation is almost always squarely apotropaic in function- the phallus is a symbol of masculine protection and transformation, the vulva symbolizes abundance and renewal, and imagery of both are thought to have protective natures.  

Some simple imagery depicting human or animal mating has a sympathetic magical function (especially in folk magic, but also in some doctrinal religious practice) intending to compel fertility, conception, healthy pregnancies, and safe childbirth. The folk magic variants tend to be made by everymen who are not technically sophisticated artists. The concern is not aesthetic quality, but the magical functions of what is being depicted. These objects are also usually not intended to be actually seen, as they will be buried or hidden in a relevant location to work its intended effects.

A pottery shard used for folk magic. The artist has little technical artistic experience and is partly literate. They have drawn their best representation of mating horses, accompanied by logograms that translate to 'horse' + 'abundance' and '(animal) fertility'. This will likely be buried within the pasture they graze their horses upon, in hopes of influencing more matings and healthy pregnancies in their livestock.

Clay figurine used for folk magic. It similarly hopes to encourage conception, this time for humans. It could be for a specific pair of humans (in which case it may have their mingled blood baked into the clay, or be tied with their hair), or intended to benefit many. Writing may be present at the bottom- depending on the artist's literacy, it may contain anything between common logograms broadly communicating their wishes or a very specific idea (ie: "May my beloved wife Tsimanse Hippinoube conceive a son by me, and not by my wretched dogcunt of a neighbor Odebidinai Jannes (cursed be his name), and may her pregnancy be healthy and her birth be swift and safe, Odomache protect her and give her strength").

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Wardi culture has a long history of poetic traditions, with its main two facets being epic and lyrical poetry (erotic poetry generally falls into the latter category). Being a talented lyrical poet is highly esteemed. Successful poets will have their works permanently recorded and disseminated for general use- read for entertainment at social events, weddings, ceremonies, and in private. Being a performer of poetry is its own field, and can be highly lucrative with skill, resources, and luck. Most professional performers are men, but learning to recite and sing poetry is a standard part of the education of most upper class girls as well as boys.

Erotic poems are generally a subset of love poetry, extolling the beauty of an object of affection or the speaker's desire (fulfilled or not) for them. Most erotic poetry revels in wordplay, avoiding direct descriptions of sexual acts in favor of cleverly implying them through careful wording and use of metaphor. These poems are considered entirely appropriate for public performance, though (unlike visual erotic art) the VERY high esteem of the poetic practice limits most conventionally accepted poetry to "highbrow" subject matter (it can be entirely explicit, but the acts and relationship dynamics it describes are relegated to cultural norms).

There's a separate subset of 'dirty' poetry (usually intended as comedic, though sometimes a form of invective poem), which mixes conventional flowery language with graphic sexual descriptions and heavy use of slang. Opinions are largely split on this variant, with the most socially conservative swaths of the population finding it to dishonor such a virtuous artform, with the less uptight response being "but its kinda funny tho"

The vast majority of successful poets are men, and most erotic poetry focuses on conventional targets of male attraction (primarily women, secondarily akoshos and beardless youths). However, erotic poetry can be one of the most accessible outlets to genuinely express un-socially accepted desires, especially due to the stylistic tendency to partly obscure its subject matter.

[andbreakmynose]

he won't go away

he's haunting you. am al.

WARNINGS: p-in-v, he's possessive and a bit mean, feelings, references to drugs/drinking, technically cheating but not really

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

Being a young woman in the 21st century had to be torture. You thought the breakup would be the hardest part; moving all your stuff out of the shared apartment was incredibly sad; sometimes you still got sad when you saw his shirts in your closet. But it turns out the hardest part is actually trying to get back out there. The apps of hell.

It was practically impossible to find someone who matched your standards. Alex, your ex, was so perfect in (almost) every way that everyone else paled in comparison. Seriously, how were you supposed to fall back in love when your last boyfriend was a global phenomenon rockstar?

He was almost everywhere you looked, practically inescapable. Every shop you went into was selling his newest record or playing one of their songs. His face was in every magazine at every store. The month you spent traveling in the states didn’t even help; Arctic Monkeys had finally crossed over, and he was big there too.

The worst part of it was that even when you scrolled Tinder to move on, you’d see him. Someone would have them as his favorite band; they’d have a lyric in their bio; they’d be wearing merchandise; or you’d check their Instagram to see concert photos. It was a frustrating cycle of constant reminders that he didn’t want you anymore.

That’s what he said—that he couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with you anymore. That he was moving on to “bigger and better things,” and you weren’t a part of that. You had sensed it was coming; he had started to become cockier; he was drinking and smoking more, and you even thought he might be taking something stronger. You didn’t blame him though; he was on top of the world, and you were just his hometown girlfriend who worked a 9-5.

You didn’t mean to keep up with him, but you read the headlines: ‘Arctic Monkeys Announces Massive UK Tour’, ‘Arctic Monkeys Sells Out Madison Square Garden’, ‘Arctic Monkeys To Headline Reading and Leeds.”

Those were tolerable; you knew he’d be big. The ones that bothered you were the personal ones. ‘Alex Turner Seen Wasted After Big Night Out’, ‘Alex Turner Seen With Another Mystery Blonde’. That was frustrating. You envied him in a sense; he didn’t have to worry about seeing your name anywhere. He was able to move on as quickly as possible and never look back. He had all the money, all the girls, and everything he could ever need at his disposal.

It was obvious you had become bitter; your best friend had remarked that you ‘just hadn’t been yourself’ since the breakup and “needed to get laid soon” or you’d “become a criminal case.” Maybe she was right, and that's what put you on the apps. You wanted to find a nice, normal man, someone who wasn’t performing at the Olympics.

The guys were nice for the most part. You had seen a few cute ones and had a few good conversations. There was even a date once! He was a nice guy from the north side of town who worked at a bank. The dinner you had with him was good, but the chemistry just wasn’t there.

For every match there were at least 50 strikeouts, but you were hopeful about this current guy. His name was Rob. Rob was tall and had pretty blue eyes and worked a well-paying job in finance. He liked nature and Oasis and had two dogs. He was the type of normalcy you craved. He asked you on a date, and of course you said yes; maybe you’d finally move on.

-

The two of you decided on one of your favorite pubs on a Saturday. And when Saturday came along, you pushed your nerves to the side and tried to look as presentable as possible. You felt a bit guilty about wearing a dress that Alex bought you, but you had to wear it at some point. You cover yourself in perfume and slip on your finest lace lingerie, just for the confidence. Today is supposed to be the day you become the new you.

Rob was already there when you arrived; he wore a nice outfit and looks good, but you’re not immediately head over heels. Maybe this would take time; that was fine. He gestured to the open bar stool next to him and the pint waiting for you. You smiled and walked over to him.

“Hey! Thanks for... this.” You pointed your head towards the pint and took a seat next to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiled at you, giving your body a once-over. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

His compliment doesn’t fluster you as much as it should, but you still smiled and thanked him, attaching your lips to the glass and taking a drink.

The conversation was easy; he told you about what it’s like to work in finance, and you told him what it’s like in your occupation. He showed you pictures of his three dogs whose names you could not remember, and you showed him pictures from your trip to Italy last year, neglecting to add the piece of information that you went with Alex.

Things seemed to be going really well; your bar stool had ended up closer to his, and his hand brushed across your knee a few times. Maybe the night would end well and you’d get to go home with him; you hadn’t been fucked since Alex and your vibrator weren’t doing the job anymore. In fact, it was going so well that you were about to ask about a second date when his head perked up and his eyes darted to a corner.

“Holy shit! Is that the guy from Arctic Monkeys?”

Your first thought was that somehow he knew that he was fucking with you and wanted to get you upset. But then you noticed the genuine surprise and shock in his face—a lump forming in your throat. Maybe he got his people confused?

The split second glance you turned in Alex’s direction is all you needed to know it was him. He was carrying himself the same way he had been, and you could almost hear the boom of his voice from the other side of the pub. Christ. Your stomach suddenly felt like you could throw up any second.

“I think it is.” Your voice was barely above a mutter, but Rob heard it all, his face perking up even more.

“That’s so cool! I saw them last time they came here!”

You nodded and said you saw them too. You didn’t tell him that you also saw them in London and Paris and New York and Tokyo, and that he dedicated a song to you on your birthday at a show in New Jersey. It felt like years of memories were flooding back, but you just had to repress that.

It seemed that Rob wasn’t that big of a fan because he quickly diverted his attention back to you and started talking about some hike he took a few months ago. You’re sure it was lovely, but your mind couldn’t really focus on anything but the man who hadn’t even noticed your presence. You kept nodding and attached your lips to your drink.

After a bit of one-sided conversation, Rob patted you on the back and excused himself to the restroom. He leaves you alone. Alone with Alex, only half a room away. You ordered a second drink to try and distract yourself, but that’s no help.

You swear you hear your name come from his lips, echoing in your eyes in an almost painful way. It’s just a hallucination; you’re just remembering stuff. That’s what you tell yourself.

“Her? Yeah, she was my bitch ex. Too uptight for me, if you know what I mean.” His voice booms through the room, like he’s purposely saying it as loud as possible because he knows you’ll hear. Fuck.

You couldn’t help it; you had to check. When you turn your head to the side to see him again, his dark eyes are staring right into you, that cocky smirk he adopted in the last months of your relationship present on his face. He caught you.

You didn’t recognize the guys he was with; they were probably figures from his new life. You also didn’t recognize the blonde girl he conveniently had his hand on the ass of. You couldn’t tell rather to be flustered or pissed that his attention was on you and not whoever she was. He still stared directly into your soul; something between anxiety and sorrow filled you up.

Rob returned after a minute, snapping you out of your trance and pulling your attention back onto him. Right, your date. You smiled and tried to focus on his face—his face that was nowhere near as attractive as Alex’s.

“So, what was it you were saying about hiking in Ireland?” It was a copout, but it was safe; he was more than happy to talk about himself. He went on and on about the cows and the grass and his sister Emily.

Every few minutes you’d hear Alex say something else. Something about the ‘pretty lady standing next to him’ or the ‘total fucking bender’ he went on last week. Was he trying to rile you up? Get a reaction? Well yeah, it worked. You could feel your blood start to boil while you drank more and more.

That caught up; after maybe your third drink you had to pee, really bad. You stood up and apologized to Rob before excusing yourself in the ladies room. Your head was starting to spin, and it would be lying to say you weren’t overwhelmed. You did your business and took a second to breathe.

You opened the door to head back to your date that was going very well. Thank you. The door creaked open and then shut just as instantly, your back against the door and your body back in the bathroom. Him.

He wasn’t a big man by any means, but his presence took up the entire room; it made you feel small. Alex was staring down at you, and it was hard to tell if he was really bored or really turned on.

“We need to talk.” Is all that he uttered? His voice was surprisingly monotone for him.

“In the ladies room at a pub?”

He nods.

“I have a date. He’ll get worried.” You crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground even though all you wanted to do was fold.

“Yeah. That’s why we need to talk.” He backed away from the door and leaned against the wall, very obviously checking himself out in the mirror. He ran a hand through his quiff and turned back to you with a scoff. “I don’t like him. He’s a twat.”

You scoff back, “Yeah? Well, last time I checked, you didn’t like me either.” Alex winces at this.

“I never said that,” he corrected you, his face slightly less smug. “I said I wanted to explore. Try new things. Spend the rest of my tour living like a real rockstar.” He pauses for dramatic effect, staring you up and down. “But I’m over that, baby; I want you back. I want to be us again. Please.”

You couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not; he probably was. He was probably drunk and didn’t know what he was saying. But goddamnit, these last months of pain came back, and you couldn’t help but feel for him. You wanted him back too.

“What about your new life? The fucking benders. All your new friends out there... the new girl you were fondling earlier.” You needed to stay strong; you couldn’t cave like that. You made sure that all your mockery and frustration with him for the last months came out in your voice.

He sighed again, his hand returning to his quiff. You couldn’t tell if he was that obsessed with himself that he wanted to perfect it constantly or if it was a nervous habit.

“What about your new life? Chad from finance is telling you about the stock market and his university days.”

“Rob, actually. And he’s very nice. Nicer than you’ve been this past year.” An eye roll.

Alex guffawed at this, nodding his head in a way that reminded you of a movie greaser.

“And yet you still want me more than him, don’t you? You want me again just as bad as I want you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was the alcohol, but yeah, you were getting hot and bothered. The rockstar act was obnoxious, but it was also sexy as hell.

“I can’t just leave. Rob’s a nice guy; I don’t want to destroy him.” Even if you were about to throw yourself at your ex, you still had enough morals to think about Rob.

Alex hummed and thought for a second; he wasn’t going to let you just run away from him. He needed you to come back home.

“Go up to him and say ya got your period or something. You need to go home and take care of it. You’re a smart girl; figure it out.” Condescension laced his voice. He brought his hand up and ran it across your arm just to watch the goosebumps it elicited. “See, you want this. Come home with me.”

You couldn’t fight it anymore and nodded. You were weak for him; he was your weakness. He was perfect, and you couldn’t go without feeling him again.

“I’ll meet you out front,” the smirk reappeared on his face, and he gently guided you out of the bathroom with his hand on your ass. He went right towards the exit and left you to go right towards Rob.

“Hey Rob. I’m sorry it took me forever. I have some lady problems going on, and I need to run home and grab a pad. I’ll text you about a second date, yeah?” You smiled at him but gave him no time to respond before you were out the front door and Alex was wrapping his big hands around your back. You had a long night ahead.

He kept his hand on your shoulder the entire way home; no words fell from his mouth. There was this feeling he was giving you, like he was disappointed beyond words even though he was the one that ended things.

The drive to his place was painstakingly familiar. You had done this very same trip back and forth more times than you could count. One of your first dates had been him taking you here and then kissing you while the band played a Stone Roses song; maybe you had fucked with fate by returning to the same location.

You felt a sharp pain searing through your heart when you saw the brick exterior of his flat. That was your home. Your home for two years that you had been shut out of only within the last 5 months. And you were back.

He made a whistling noise followed by a click, as if you were a dog. You’re embarrassed in the way you immediately folded, hopping out of the car and walking up the familiar stairs to the front door. His keys opened it up, and you took a step inside, the sight of it all flooding your senses.

The flat was redecorated, but it was still yours; there was your old sofa in the corner, the painting you bought with him at the market, and his collection of leather boots sat at the door. The smell was also different; it was no longer you and Alex. It was just Alex. Musky cologne and cigarette smoke replaced what was once the smell of your baking and your combined scents.

Alex watched you take in the sight; a humorless chuckle left his lips. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same pain; he missed you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes flicked back over to your body, scanning you in. Fuck, that dress.

“Why are you wearing my dress?” It was basically a bark, an accusation. All pain he felt was met with anger. You were wearing something he bought you to see another man.

“It’s not your dress. It’s mine.” Playing dumb never worked with Alex, so you were unsure why you did it. Maybe it was a defense mechanism that led to your relationship's downfall.

“Don’t be a bitch. I bought that dress with my money for my eyes to see you in it. It’s my dress.” His voice was harsher now; the frustration of months without you and the alcohol clouded his head.

“I thought it made me look pretty. And until an hour ago, you wanted nothing to do with me. I figured game was game.” There’s a truth to your words, but it still elicited a deep scoff from the back of his throat. He took a step towards you.

“Does make you look pretty. You’ve always been the prettiest baby.” You started to take this as him softening in a way; he was complimenting you instead of getting mad again. But then he took another step forward and, in one swift motion, pulled the dress over the top of your head, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and panty set. A deep blush covered your face, and a groan left his mouth.

“Fuck. You’re killing me, baby.” His hands started to travel up and down your body, making your body shiver when he ran by your chest and hips. “You expected him to take you back home? You wanted him to fuck you and make you forget all about me?”

“I tried,” but before you could even begin to explain the complexity of emotions running through your brain, he threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was simultaneously the most degrading, humiliating, and hot thing you’d ever experienced.

He brought you over to the bed, your old shared bed, and threw you down on it, looking down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“I tried. I really tried. But I just can’t fucking get over you. Been looking for you everywhere, hoping to make you mine again.” The confession made your heart stop, but not for long until his hands started to remove your bra. All the heat and tension of the moment made your panties start to feel wetter, and your nipples perked up. Alex licked his lips.

“You were looking for me?” You tried to manage your cool and not give in too easily. You hadn’t been fucked in so long, but he was supposed to be your ex; he kicked you out, and now he’s begging for you back.

“You were looking for me too. Don’t lie.” He said it like he knew it was a truth, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. His hands slipped off your underwear and slipped it in his pocket. “You’re not wearing these for someone else again.”

After seeing how you bit your lip to hide a moan, he smirked and ran two long fingers through your folds. Nothing could compare to his touch; you had tried so many different vibrators, and yet you hadn’t felt pleasure like this since the last time he touched you. A small whimper escaped your lips, and thats when he knew he won. You were his again.

He started to circle his fingers around your entrance, brushing against your clit a few times before entering you. The first moan of the night escaped your lips, and he gave a knowing nod and chuckle. His free hand worked to dispose of his leather jacket and then started to work at the buttons of his shirt.

“I’ll fuck you if you say you’re mine again. If you promise to come back to me. Be my baby again. Me and you.” He rasped, voice pooling with desire, dominance, and genuine affection. It was an odd combination, but so was Alex. It all made you miss him more. He bent his fingers inside of you and started to move them faster.

“SHIT! Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be yours again. Please Alex.” You felt pathetic at how easy you gave in, but the sight of the bulge pressing against his jeans was enough to show that you weren’t the only one desperate. And it was nice to know he wanted you back for more than just a fuck.

“Atta girl.” He smirked and then removed his hand from inside of you, bringing it to his lips to taste the distinct and vaguely sour-sweet juices from you. The sight was pornographic, and while you whined at the lack of contact, you moaned at the sight. “Missed your taste,” he added before he used his hands to slip his jeans and boxers off in one solid motion.

And there you were, back to old times. Two naked figures in a shared bedroom. Most of your nights pre-breakup were spent fucking until you both passed out. You were sure tonight would be no different.

He pushed you back on the bed slightly, angling his own body so his throbbing would line up with your leaking cunt. The sight made you salivate; he was big, and the head was turning red in desperation. It was like his cock missed you just as much as the rest of him.

He leaned down to meet your lips in a searing kiss, not even bothering to ask you for permission to slip his tongue in your mouth. He let this dance go on for a bit, the kiss becoming sloppier and teeth starting to collide. He let you get totally preoccupied in the kiss before he shoved himself inside of you with no real warning, his entire length puncturing your hole.

You were definitely tighter than last time you two fucked, the result of the absence of him. He smiled at that; it felt better than it ever had, and it was a confirmation you were really holding yourself back for him.

“Tight baby. Thank you for not sharing my pussy with everyone else.” He chuckled a bit at his own words, as if they were funny, before he decided you had had enough time to adjust to his stretch and began to move.

Just as he did, the moans began to fall from your mouth, the pleasure beginning to build up in ways you forgot were possible. Every movement stretched your tight warmth out more and more, filling you up with such deliciousness that you couldn’t help but cry a stream of ‘Alex!”.

His breath started to become a bit shallower, and he reached out to palm at your tits while he thrust. It was like a teenager seeing them for the first time, but he had missed them so much. His fingers pinched at your nipples, his cock hit every nerve entrance in your vagina, and his mouth returned to yours to envelope you in a passionate fire. Every part of you felt hot, and every part of him felt hot. Just how it was supposed to be.

A pace was set after a minute; he was fast and hard because he needed this and he knew you did too. You knew he wouldn’t last too long out of the sheer intensity and desperation of it all.

As his grunts became louder and his movements faster, you brought your hand down to circle around your clit, the little movements causing a full-body shiver to run down and a stream of obscenities leaving your mouth. He grinned at this but didn’t move your hand; he’d usually help you out, but he was too preoccupied with your perfect tits. Every sense of yours was activated, and on full sensitivity, it was just too hot. Your vibrators couldn’t compare to him, and he realized then that your pussy had ruined every other girl for him. He spent months seeking pleasure, but you’re the only one he wanted.

It was the hottest feeling in the world when you felt his dick begin to twitch inside of you; the addition of this made everything just the hotter. You sped your hand movements up and your back arched slightly, your mouth falling open and your eyes turning white. You two were both close.

It was a sudden snap of the coil inside your stomach that had you cumming, practically exploding in bliss. It was an orgasm to an extreme you hadn’t had in a while, maybe since even before the breakup.

The feeling of you cumming just turned Alex on more, and he was soon to follow after, making one final thrust before he pulled out and covered your stomach in warm lines of milky cum. He stared at it for a second, finding it the most beautiful sight in the world, before collapsing next to you, catching his breath.

The two of you layed like that for a while, chests returning to normal speeds and minds trying to process what just happened. His cum was still on your stomach, but all you could think about was how you had just crossed a line you were never supposed to cross with an ex. As if he could sense this, he lifted his head up and wiped the cum off your stomach with his shirt from the floor. It was laundry day tomorrow anyway.

“That was... incredible. I missed you, baby.” He said, and his voice returned to a softness you only remembered from your most intimate moments.

“I missed you too.” You giggled a bit at his choice of cleaning material but smiled at his words, moving your body a little closer to his when he laid down again.

“Good. I want you to be my girl again.

“I want to be your girl again. We’ll figure this out in the morning, I guess.” You were both too fucked out to make logical, rational decisions.

“Yeah. We’ll get through this. I won’t be a twat again. I promise.” And then he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, almost like a silent promise that he wouldn’t. At the moment you trusted him, but maybe it was just the sex lingering in your brain. At that moment, what you knew was that the man you had loved for years was back next to you, and Rob from finance was someone you’d never have to worry about again.

A/N: this is shit again but i felt like putting something out. currently in the process of applying to transfer universities so i'm pretty out of time.

[ronearoundblindly]

Idk if you’ve done this before but how about assigning the cevans character to their love language?

Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Giving/Receiving Gifts, Quality Time, and Physical Touch (and/or any you can think of)

I’m curious for your takes on who loves what 😆💕

I'm going to split this into how they give and how they receive love--which I'd like to mention are not the only ways each does, but we'll limit it to the most predominant.

*Oh dammmmmn, this was kinda difficult to narrow down but I hope I explain myself well...

No warnings. Just fun and feels!

Ari Levinson

Gives: Acts of Service

Ari feeds off the idea that being with him makes your life easier not harder; in fact, that is extremely important to him, so he prides himself on doing small (and big) things to help you out as often as he can.

Receives: Quality Time

He's a fast-paced dude who loves to do stuff: lots of excursions and new experiences, lots of hanging out with various friends he knows from a bunch of countries and very different times in his life. Being quiet, calm, and close to you is a blessing to him, something he appreciates down in his soul.

Andy Barber

Gives: Physical Touch

His job is very intense and garners him mild (if not vicious) hate. He craves closeness and is usually a little desperate to hold you after his workday. His go-to move is a hug from behind while you pour two glasses of wine, and he needs you snuggled up to him to fall asleep.

Receives: Words of Affirmation

Obviously from that description, we know touch is high on how Andy also feels love from a partner, but the top one is actually getting praised and reassured. He chose to have a career that pays well, yes, but it also requires the majority of his time and energy. Andy's heart soars when you tell him he's doing well and making you happy, when he hears you say you think his efforts are worth it.

Jake Jensen

Gives: Gifts

Tchotchke and knickknacks beyond your wildest dreams! Jake thinks about you all the time. He usually picks up small trinkets from everywhere so he can tell you the story of where they came from and what he was doing.

Receives: Physical Touch

If one of you so much as tries to argue with me on this, you will be blocked lol. You know our twitchy, touch-starved nerd is so desperate to be loved on that he absolutely requires it when you get to be together. Jake will also accept being told how much you want to touch him, via text, voicemail, or video chat, the more graphic the better...

Steve Rogers

Gives: Quality Time

Um, another 'duh' one. Steve never gets TIME, so of course he'll spend any and all that he can with you!

Receives: Gifts

Wild card for his second half though: Steve was very poor as a kid, and he was never much better as an adult--big or small. Living frugally is just...standard practice for him. However, he's a sucker for meaningful presents just for him. Secret hoarder, here, when the gifts are from people he cares about.

Bucky Barnes

Gives: Acts of Service

Bit of a two-birds-one-stone situation, but it's very important that Bucky choose what he does and who he does it for now, bonus points for it being a kind gesture for a loved one, perfect points if it's for you. I have this idea that he would actually bend over backwards to do something for you that used his abilities in a non-violent way, so you want every piece of your furniture rearranged for fung shui? Let him do it, please. And again the next month? Don't threaten him with a good time now! He's in.

Receives: Quality Time

In that same vein, someone else choosing to spend their precious time with him is more valuable than gold. He will never take a moment of it for granted. Nope. He's so grateful.

Lloyd Hansen

Gives: Words of Affirmation

If Lloyd truly, actually, really likes someone, he will say nice things to them. Not gonna lie, makes me tingle a little bit to think of this man getting to that point with anyone because it still probably sounds so damn dangerous even if he's telling you he loves you and you're perfect.

Receives: Gifts

Specifically, he only feels loved if the gifts are good and stuff he'd want or like. (Joke gifts are fun, but Lloyd just rolls his eyes at those. He find some meaning in well-thought out presents.)

Ransom Drysdale

Gives: Quality Time

The 'tell' for Ran falling in love is that he will voluntarily do stuff you like. This counts for quality time, sure, but it's all the more meaningful that he will make an effort to experience those things with you.

Receives: Words of Affirmation

Another unsurprising one, but since he did not hear very many genuinely nice things about himself growing up--aside from the fact he was a piece of crap and bully anyway,--Ransom melts like butter on hot toast.

Jimmy Dobyne

Gives: Acts of Service

Very busy, very tired, very passive when caring for himself. Jimmy will summon up energy he doesn't have to do at least one small thing for you everyday. He'll warm up your towel in the dryer while you're in the bath. He'll do the 'handwash only' dishes before you two watch some TV. He'll pick a couple of wildflowers from the back yard to put in a vase on the table for breakfast. It may not be much--he's does big things when he can but mostly it's the little things--but Jimmy is devoted to being worthy of you.

Receives: Words of Affirmation

His dad's a drunk has-been and his mother is mentally unstable; Jimmy hasn't ever had a lot of emotional support at home. Being open, encouraging him, and reassuring him all serve to bond you two closer than any blood family he knows.

James Mace

Gives: Quality Time

After all those stints training and in space, Mace will gladly be glued to you whenever he can be. The trick is that anything is quality time when he's paying attention to you, even grocery shopping.

Receives: Acts of Service

He is perfectly capable of being a self-sufficient man, no question, but there is something almost unspeakably caring about you doing something for him. The idea that anyone would help him with laundry on a terrible and packed week? Crazy. That you would water his lone plant while he's away? Shocking. You, knowingly setting up a substitute bed on the floor that's similar to his ship cot just so he can transition to sleeping for real again? Mace might cry, but you can be damn sure he'll make it comfortable enough for you to snuggle there with him.

Curtis Everett

Gives and Receives: Physical Touch

The only one on the list who has the same language for both categories, but it's not for reasons of deprivation. He's actually used to being very close and crammed with a lot of people; the difference with you is that he is purposeful in keeping you close to him and in sheer bliss when you stay connected to him even by a finger's tip.

Johnny Storm

Gives: Words of Affirmation

Johnny's are interesting because they are both things he gives to and gets from everyone to a degree, yet he does not mean them sincerely or with the same intensity to anyone but you. He's always personable, and though some of jokes might seem a little cruel or cutting, Johnny caters to getting a rise of reaction out of everybody. He doesn't necessarily care about kindness; he's looking to be memorable.

With you, however, aside from the occasional quip, never mean-spirited (but he'll outright fight if yo two a're fighting), Johnny likes to be sweet and praise you every opportunity he has.

Receives: Gifts

Again, he gets stuff all the time. He gets endorsement goodies and swag, stuff to promote. He gets gifts from hundreds of people he doesn't know for every holiday. The fan mail is a little crazy. Johnny will ploy through a crowd of people to grab his gift from you: at his birthday, at Christmas, any time at all. He appreciates that your gifts just have to do with him and not his 'persona,' all the interests he's had since he was a boy, or just a trainee, or just a NASA washout. He likes getting thoughtful but deliberately average presents, like a keychain from a band he likes or a t-shirt from each vacation.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Hi! Just learned about you blog and whatnot and had a request. Jason Todd x Reader where Reader has been kidnapped? Maybe by Joker or Black Mask or someone else from his past?

Safe Again

Jason Todd x Raeder

wc: 1.9 K summary: Jason saves you from being captured from Black Mask warnings: kidnapping, injuries, standard Gotham violence, blood a/n: SUCH A COOL REQUEST!!11!!!1!!1 thank you for the request, it was so much fun writing about it

You feel your head pounding aggressively, making it hard for your eyes to focus on anything in the small room. It‘s cold and weird, you can‘t really remember how you got here. The sounds of chains being dragged on a cement floor made your breath hitch, finally starting to feel the aches in your limbs. You must‘ve been hurt badly in several places, especially in your knees for some reason.

»Awake?« A deep rumbling comes from the gates, looking up from the already bloodied floor. The smell just makes you sick, already feeling worse than you already are.

»Don‘t worry, he‘ll be here in a while. But not to come and save you,« what seems to be Black Mask circles your chair, hands behind his back, »but to fall into my trap. You‘re just a distraction, sweet girl. He should have known better than to fall in love. How foolish.«

You can‘t exactly focus on his words, fighting against the dizziness. The room feels incredibly cold but you are sure it isn‘t really that chilly. First, your legs start to tremble before it builds up from there, becoming a shivering mess.

»Oh, poor thing. Scared? Don‘t you worry.«

He stands in front of you, some bigger figures standing in the back and possibly watching.

»It‘s just for a little longer.« A creepy face comes in your view, never having seen him up close or in person before. The mask brings another wave of danger into your brain, holding in your breath. Your body is all tense but you can‘t stay still, trembling everywhere.

Finally, the room spins and you process his words. Before you fall into unconsciousness you realise… Jason will die when he gets here.

He should have seen it coming. All the terror attacks on innocent civilians before, now getting to his loved one. Bruce and Dick told him he should keep a clear head and not blame himself, but he can‘t afford listening to them when he knows that it‘s all his fault.

It seems like too much, he can‘t catch a break. He won‘t allow himself to do so. Once he got into the abandoned warehouse, he can hear the distinct sounds of voices. Jason stays stealthy on his feet and keeps Oracle and the rest updated as best as he can. Through all the thoughts racing in his head, he can only focus on one thing. Getting you to safety and killing Black Mask. He had enough of his antics.

»Stay low, we are guarding from outside. Three guards approaching the entrance.« Nightwing calls into the communications, alerting Red Hood of any activity.

The three guards walk in, oblivious to the vigilante watching them in a vent from above. Once they are close enough, he jumps out of it and attacks them violently, but quietly. The three men are down in a matter of few seconds, Red Hood updating Nightwing afterwards.

He lets the guards rest on the floor and makes his way down the hallway, following the distinct chatter. A few sounds of metal clanking together are heard, which only makes Jason‘s blood run colder than before. He doesn‘t want to imagine what they‘d done to you already or what they are about to do. Either way, they won‘t get to have you for any longer.

»Red, be careful. If they see you, this will bow up.«

»I know.« Jason almost interrupts Oracle. He doesn‘t know why he decided to tell them in the first place. Of course, he needs their help because he can‘t risk fighting against Black Mask on his own. He can‘t risk dying for you. He has made a promise to you, that he will be more careful in the future. But clearly, he wasn‘t careful enough. Getting you captured was something he thought was possible but he didn‘t think it would happen. Now, being so close to just snatching you away and killing everyone who blocks his path, he couldn‘t just leave and wait for the rest to be ready.

Making sure he won‘t get into the view of the enemy, he catches a peek at you in the cell. His breath hitches. Fists clenching. All the sounds are drowning out from around him, but he has to keep himself together.

Eventually, he manages to pull himself out of his thoughts and hides.

»I‘m in my spot, where‘s the rest?«

Jason speaks almost speaks in panic into the comms, trying to calm himself down one last time.

»We are ready. Waiting for Oracle‘s signal.«

Batman answers back almost immediately.

Jason‘s never been this impatient before, but he knows he can‘t afford being sloppy. This is your life being at risk. No one knows what Black Mask‘s actual motive is, but he is sure he wants revenge for Red Hood‘s earlier mistakes and actions. A typical man who still lives in the past and can‘t move past mistakes or memories. So he has to take it out on others.

Once Oracle announces that they can launch their attack, no one wastes their time on doing so. Batman and Nightwing are storming in from the outside while Jason focuses on securing the area and getting Black Mask. They locate you in a dingy cell, bloodied and unconscious. Chains around your wrists and tied to the chair. It‘s a stark contrast from how you usually are. Soft, kind, the total opposite of Jason. But now is not a time to grieve or get distracted.

With quick hands, Nightwing secures you while Batman joins Red Hood on getting Black Mask. He finds him beating up the bad guy. Hovering over Black Mask, the punches only getting more powerful and deadly. Batman gets to his side and tears him away, afraid he will kill him out of pure rage.

»Stop! We need to find out what happened and why.« Bruce tries to get some sense into him, only with a little success. He manages to get him to stop punching, but not from going mad. His head is a complete mess. You can see it from the way his breathing is ragged and body trembles with fury.

»Can you stand?« A familiar voice rings through your senses as you‘re slowly awaking, the loud sounds from outside the cell bringing you back to earth. You shake your head in response, the dull ache in your knees becoming worse in waves.

Even when you can‘t properly respond, Nightwing knows what to do. One thing he promised his brother is to keep you safe. And he won‘t let anything hurt you now, not when his brother is in such a bad state.

He picks you up swiftly and gets a safe route from Oracle, getting outside before you know it. You keep fighting your consciouness. Constantly dizzy and in pain. It‘s hard to tell wether you‘ll stay awake or faint again, but Nightwing gets you quickly to the clocktower and sets you down onto a soft surface.

Damian is already there, ready to assess any damage taken on you, thanks to his medical skills. Your eyes have difficulty focusing again, but you can feel everything around you. At least you can feel how bad your legs and head are hurting.

Turns out you have deep bruises around your knees, most likely for the case you'll try to escape the cell. It wouldn‘t even be possible, considering the heavy chains that were keeping you seated on the chair.

As if that wasn‘t enough, Damian realises you got a pretty serious concussion as well. That explains your constant dizziness and sluggish state. It‘s almost impossible to talk to you, only getting a few random words from you before you fall back into unconsciousness.

Oracle keeps the two other men in the warehouse updated, telling them you are in a stable condition and that the area they‘re in seems to be empty. It‘s strange, Batman knows something is wrong. It shouldn‘t be empty. Black Mask shouldn‘t be so weak at the moment, he would at least fight back or start some monologue that‘s suppposed to upset them and get under their skin. But no, none of that is happening right now.

Jason is still not in the right headspace, mind clouded with pure rage and fury. But luckily, Batman notices someting strange in the Mask of the enemy.

»Wait,« He crouches down in front of him and gently takes the mask off of the villian, »this is a decoy.«

They managed to get you into a peaceful nap while Oracle is busy controlling the situation and getting Batman and Red Hood out of the building as fast as possible. The moment they found out that Black Mask was actually some goon working for him, Oracle also found out about a bomb located inside the building. Now it was only a matter of time when it will explode and the clocktower is filled with heavy tension.

Waking up was probably the hardest part. Every of your limbs feel heavy and numb, peeling you eyelids open. You are still in the clocktower, knees bandaged up and clearly still under some heavy meds. The sun is just rising outside, it being quiet besides the light ringing in your ears. It‘s a moment later you realise the hand in yours, recognising it shortly after. The comforting weight and warmth rests in your palm, making you look down at it.

The couch you are laying on feels way better now after that rough cell, shifting lightly to adjust on it. Even with the light movements, Jason stirs awake by your side and tightens his grip on your hand.

»Sweetheart?«

»What happened?«

You ask back, fosucing on the several bruises littered across his face and dried blood on on his suit, his hands still gentle but rougher.

He sighs out and doesn‘t respond yet, carefully hugging you as he kneels next to the couch, his arms enveloping you safely.

»Black Mask captured you. We got you now. Batman is making sure he doesn't escape.« He whispers back after a moment while he keeps you in his arms. It feels safe again. You can‘t really remember what exactly happened in there, but you are more than grateful that everyone seems to be safe.

He doesn‘t talk much about what happened as well, just savouring the moment of being safe. Once you got into a safe house, he made sure to take care of you as best as he could. A warm bath, patching up your knees and some cuts across you body again. Being as careful as possible, he lets you rest on the bed as he cooks something up in the kitchen.

Somehow, it still feels a little strange. Not able to move your legs much is something you‘ve started to hate only a few moments later.

But at least there‘s always an excuse to be carried around by Jason. He walks in with two plates of steaming soup, setting one of them down onto your lap with a spoon. A small TV plays a random soap opera in front of the bed as you both start to eat together. It‘s warm and filling, having missed his cooking skills and presence.

You end up craddled in his arms as he reads you from some book he still had in the safe house, falling asleep to the familiar lull of his voice. The sleep you get is peaceful and full of rest, getting the perfect amount of rest and comfort in his arms. He also rests plenty, although he mostly looks over you during the night.

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