#you don’t have to interact with it either

[greengoblinswifey]

Can I request a Nicholas Chavez smut? Pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏😫 I was thinking maybe something where they have A LOT of sexual tension, and like they flirt and that stuff

Lovvvvv u💗

Just Friends— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— lots of flirting and sexual tension, oral(f), hand job, praise kink, ass slapping and grabbing, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, L bomb, fluff?

a/n— love you too, hope you enjoy my interpretation. yes it’s very long as usual, i had to capture the essence <3

Nicholas had been your friend for years, the type of friend who felt as familiar as ‘family’ but kept you on edge with the kind of sexual tension that always lingered just under the surface. You’d been there through his rise in the acting world, tagging along to premieres and red carpets as his “bestie.” Of course, all of your friends saw the way you two interacted, flirting that went far beyond innocent banter, lingering touches, and the looks you exchanged that seemed to say everything except “just friends.”

The first time he backed you up against a wall was at one of his movie nights. The rest of your friends were in the next room laughing over some game, but you and him had drifted to the kitchen for snacks. Somewhere between grabbing popcorn and pouring drinks, he leaned in close, his arm resting above your head, caging you in.

“You know, you’re a terrible influence,” he whispered, his face just inches from yours.

“Oh really?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who’s about to be on his third cup of vodka.”

“No,” he murmured, voice low as his gaze fell to your lips, “I mean, the way you look at me.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Your breaths mingled, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in closer, his lips an inch away from yours. But then he smirked, as if breaking the tension intentionally, and stepped back.

Moments like these happened all the time. Like the photoshoots you’d both do just for fun, candid snaps and Polaroids capturing the way you looked at each other. In one, you were staring at him, your hands on his shoulder while his was around you waist, pulling you close, and in another, he was giving you a look that made you feel like the only person in the world. Anyone who saw them would have sworn there was something going on, but you always waved it off.

In one instance, the two of you were back at his place after an event, still dressed up, the excitement of the night still thrumming through you. Nicholas loosened his tie, watching as you kicked off your heels and stretched out on his couch, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you teased, “and I might start thinking you’ve got a little crush.”

He scoffed, but there was a glint in his eye. “Oh, please. If anyone here has a crush, it’s you.”

You laughed, pretending to scoff, but leaned forward. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you were the one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves tonight.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to,” he replied, his voice dropping, and he took a step closer until he was standing over you. He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. “And what if I said I don’t want to keep my hands to myself now?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, but you weren’t about to break eye contact. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He lingered, his eyes scanning your face before dropping to your lips. “Just making sure you’re as ready as you’re acting,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through you.

You felt a spark ignite, leaning up just enough so your lips almost touched his. “Nicholas, if you’re going to do something, now’s your chance.”

He grinned, biting his lip as if savoring the moment, but he pulled back, leaving you on edge. “Oh, I will. When you least expect it.”

Another night, you were at a friend’s place for a get-together, squeezed onto a crowded couch beside Nicholas. Someone made a joke about the two of you potentially being a cute pair and you rolled your eyes, but Nicholas just smirked, sliding an arm over your shoulder.

“Guess they’re onto us,” he whispered, leaning close to your ear so you felt the warmth of his breath. “Or maybe you’ve just made it too obvious you can’t resist me.”

You raised an eyebrow, nudging him lightly. “Resist you? Please, I’m just letting you hang around so I don’t break your heart.”

He chuckled, playing along. “Oh, yeah? Because I seem to remember a certain someone texting me at two in the morning, needing ‘company.’”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you shot him a quick, mischievous smile. “Company,” you retorted, “doesn’t mean anything more than a little late night fun.”

He tilted his head, giving you that same intense, teasing look. “Oh, so I’m just ‘late-night fun’ now?”

You shrugged, looking back at him with a challenging smile. “What can I say? You’re good for a laugh and a distraction.”

Nicholas laughed, pulling you a little closer. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

The “late night fun” you spoke of was just Nicholas helping you re decorate, watch your favorite tv show with you and continuing the banter.

Another time, you were at your apartment, watching a movie he had starred in on the couch. At some point, his arm settled across the back of the couch behind you, his fingertips lightly brushing your shoulder.

“You’re comfortable, right?” he asked, his tone smooth but a little too casual.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Unless you’re planning to do something that’d make me, uncomfortable?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. “Only if you ask nicely.”

At a party, you’d both been teasing each other all night, throwing playful glances across the room. Later, in a quiet corner, he slid his hand down to your lower back as you leaned in close to talk.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think you like it when I drive you a little crazy.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, maybe. But it’s nothing compared to what I could do to you.”

His eyebrow arched, a grin spreading across his face. “Is that a promise?”

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out,” you shot back, biting your lip.

“Dancing, huh?” you teased again as he pulled your flush against him to the rhythm of the music, meeting his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

He shrugged, but his grip tightened ever so slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold you.”

Your heartbeat quickened, but you kept your cool. “You don’t need an excuse.”

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping lower. “Good to know.”

Another time, late one night after a fun evening, you and Nicholas were walking back to his car together. Your fingers brushed as you passed each other on the sidewalk, a simple touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine. As you both approached the car, he stepped in front of you, blocking your way for just a second before he opened your door for you.

His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it. “Are you sure you want to go back home alone tonight?”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, and said, “Why? You worried about me?”

He stepped even closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just not ready to let you go yet.”

After this, you were standing near a group of people at a Hollywood party, but Nicholas was leaning against the wall just across the room, watching you, his eyes following every move you made. When you turned to meet his gaze, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you staring at me?” you asked playfully, your voice carrying just enough edge to tease.

He didn’t break eye contact, his gaze darkening as he took a slow step toward you, his tone low. “Maybe. I’m just trying to figure out if the rest of them can see what I see.”

You took a step closer. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re mine,” he said, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he leaned in close. “And I’m not sharing.”

“Yours?”

“Y-yeah, you’re my best friend after all.” You’d never seen him this flustered and you both just laughed it off.

The two of you kept playing that game, a series of almosts, leaving you both hungry for the moment one of you would finally make the move neither could take back. Then it happened.

The after-party of the event Nicholas invited you to was alive with flashing lights and the low hum of conversation as he scanned the crowd, searching for you. When he spotted you in the corner, his jaw clenched. You were backed against a wall, leaning into a conversation with some actor whose name he didn’t care to remember. Your gaze was all doe-eyed and captivated, the same way you looked at him whenever the two of you got a little too close.

Before he knew it, Nicholas was striding across the room, sliding between the two of you and placing a firm hand on your waist. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer, pulling you away with that possessiveness you’d never quite seen before.

As soon as you were away from the other guy, you couldn't help but tease him, looking up with a smirk. “What was that about? I thought we were just friends?”

“Friends, huh?” he murmured, a challenge glinting in his eyes. He didn’t let go of your waist, keeping you close as if daring anyone to interrupt again.

The two of you spent the rest of the night practically glued to each other. On the dance floor, you found yourselves moving in sync, his hands on your hips as you swayed, flush against each other’s body.The warmth and closeness, the way his fingers skimmed your skin, left you breathless.

By the time you left and climbed into the backseat of his car, both of you were a little tipsy, laughter spilling between flirtatious exchanges and you could feel your pulse racing.

As you stepped inside his house, you threw him a mischievous look, lips curling into a smirk. “You know, for all your big talk, you never actually follow through,” you teased, voice light and playful. “It’s almost like you’re scared.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening as he backed you up against the door, one hand braced beside your head as he looked down at you, his mouth curving into a smirk of his own. “Careful now,” he murmured, his tone low and challenging. “Are you asking me to prove something?”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart hammering as you nodded slowly, almost daring him.

He leaned in, his voice a low growl against your ear. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

And then his lips crashed against yours, and suddenly, every ounce of that simmering sexual tension between you two exploded. His kiss was intense, consuming, and you found yourself melting into it as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you felt him press you harder against the door. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you tangled together, caught in the heat of the moment.

He scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward his room, lips barely parting as he navigated the hallway. You could feel the rush of his breath against your skin, hear the steady, quickening beat of his heart as he laid you down.

As you both caught your breath, you looked up at him, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and managed to say, “Wow. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Nicholas chuckled, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Likewise.”

His gaze softened slightly as he admitted, “I’ve waited way too long to do that.”

You smirked, leaning up to brush your lips over his again. “Well, you can do more.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned back in, capturing your lips in another feral kiss. His hands were on you, warm and steady, slipping beneath your top and easing it off, then slipping off your mini skirt, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. He paused for a moment, taking you in, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Wow,” he murmured. “Who’d you dress up for like this? Someone in particular?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Just—someone.”

“Who?” he pressed, a knowing glint in his eye.

You met his gaze and replied softly, “You.”

He smirked again, his fingers grazing over the straps of your bra before unclasping it, letting it slip from your shoulders. His eyes lingered as he gently pulled off your underwear, murmuring, “Lift your hips for me.”

As you did, he carefully slid it down, leaving you both breathless and wrapped up in each other, feeling that intensity settle into something unmistakably real.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, all naked for me, fuck,” he breathed, taking in the sight before him.

He leaned down, his mouth taking in your nipples and you gasped, feeling his tongue swirl and suck on it. Your hand went to his hair as he kneaded the neglected left breast and all you could do was moan as he continued.

“Mm— you like that baby? Yeah? You like when your best friend sucks on your juicy fucking tits?” he asked, in between sucking.

“Shut up and keep going.”

He did as he was told, then you felt a hand on your thigh, caressing you as you spread them open, practically begging him to touch you. You were soaked for him. A soft whimper left your lips as his fingers dipped inside your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, we’ve barely started and you’re soaked. You’re making a mess on my sheets, look.” Looking down you realized there was a large wet patch on his sheets and you closed your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks and between your legs.

“That’s okay baby, it’s gonna get even messier when I make you squirt all over it.”

You gasped and he took the opportunity to kiss you, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. His fingers began moving inside you rapidly, his palm grinding against your clit and making you feel pleasure beyond what you’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was the level of attraction and sexual tension between you finally overflowing, you didn’t know, but you were certainly enjoying it.

“Nicholas, I- I’m gonna—”

“Shh, I know baby, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my fingers, cum for me.”

His mouth moved to your tits, suckling as his fingers curled inside you and you finally let go. You moaned his name as your pussy soaked his fingers, your orgasm taking you over so intensely that you were shaking.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it,” he praised, “finally being obedient for once.”

You rolled your eyes but they immediately rolled back, as Nicholas fell to his knees, his tongue on your clit. He laughed at your cockiness merging into pleasure, continuing to suck on your sensitive clit. He was a man starved, his mouth engulfing your pussy, making sure every part of it felt his tongue.

“God, Nick, I’m gonna cum again,” you whimpered.

“You taste like heaven sweetheart, cum again for me, I need to taste everything.”

He gripped under your thighs, slurping and sucking and soon, you granted his request, squirting in his mouth as he drank everything you had to offer. His fingers slipped inside your pussy and his tongue flicked your clit, guiding you through your high as you soaked his sheets, the patch growing larger and larger.

“I knew I could make you feel better than anyone else can,” he chuckled, sucking off his fingers.

Smirking, you leaned over to stroke his hard cock. He was decent. Oh, who were you kidding, he was fucking huge. Of course he was.

“Like what you see? You’re practically drooling baby,” he smirked. Soft whimpers left his lips as your warm hands stroked him and you spread the pre cum that was oozing from the tip.

“F-fuck, oh my god you’re hands feel so good around my cock,” he moaned, “as much as I’d love for you to stroke and suck me, I need to be inside you, now. I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

Your arousal grew as his body went between your legs, your eyes locked on each other with the whole world ceasing to exist. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your folds, the sound of your pussy squelching filling the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw because you’re mine, is that okay?”

“More than okay.” A cocky grin tugged at his lips and your jaw fell open as he pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you moaned in unison.

Nicholas moved slowly, his touch tender but full of that same intense energy that had been simmering between you two for so long. As he pressed into you, it was like the culmination of every teasing look, every playful comment, every stolen moment, all building to this point.

You gasped softly, feeling the thrill of finally crossing that line. He stilled for a second, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, “You feel so perfect.” His hand found yours, fingers interlacing as he held on tightly, grounding you in the moment.

You exhaled shakily, barely able to form words. “Worth the wait?” you managed to tease, a small smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Better than I ever imagined.” He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his voice soft but full of meaning as he added, “You’re everything I wanted.”

With every thrust, the intensity built, the shared glances and flirting making each moment feel like the answer to everything you’d both been waiting for. It felt like more than just a moment, it felt like finally, the reward for all the pent-up desire and all the time spent dancing around what had always been between you.

Nicholas began moving with a more intense rhythm, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. The pleasure seemed to crest with each movement, both of you lost in the heat of the moment. His voice came out low and husky as he murmured, “You feel so damn good. I knew you would, with that fucking mouth of yours.”

A shiver ran through you as you whispered back, breathless, “And you— mm, you look so hot above me.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned down, his hand sliding to your hip, steadying you as he picked up the pace even more. “Cum all over my cock,” he urged, his voice barely a whisper but filled with a mix of tenderness and demand. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure built up, and with one final hard thrust, you let go completely.

“Nicholas,” you moaned, biting his shoulder in the rush of release.

“Ow— I’m so attracted to you,” he said, kissing your neck, “I’m not done with you yet, I want you to ride me.”

Without another word, you switched positions and you straddled him as he sat up, his back pressed against the large bed frame.

“You are breathtaking, you know that?” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I need you so bad,” you whimpered, sliding your pussy along his cock.

“I need you even more baby, now sit.”

Slowly, you sank on his cock feeling him slowly fill you up.

“You’re s-so big, god, just stretching me out,” you gasped.

You began riding his cock, your tits bouncing and his eyes went to them, mesmerized by the view before him. His lips went to your nipples, sucking as he grabbed your ass, guiding you to take his dick deep.

“Keep bouncing on my dick baby, just like that, don’t stop.”

Your bouncing sped up, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you.

“I’m close, I- I can’t hold it,” you screamed.

“Don’t hold it beautiful, let go for me, cum on my cock,” he demanded.

With a moan of his name, you draped your arms around his neck, grinding against him as your orgasm washed over you. He held onto you for dear life, his hands grabbing your ass as your pussy clamped around his cock and your juices soaked him.

“Good girl, that’s my baby,” he moaned, “I want my baby to cum one more time, turn around and ride my cock again so I can see that fat ass bounce.”

You whimpered as you turned around, his cock still inside you, the feeling of it swirling inside you making your head spin. He slapped your ass, startling you.

“God, this fucking ass. Could you tell when I’d let my hands brush over it? How I’d have my hands on your lower back teasing lower and lower?”

You couldn’t even form coherent words, the feeling of him so deep inside you was the only thing you cares about.

“Bounce that ass on my dick,” he added, slapping your ass harshly.

Your ass slammed onto him, little moans leaving your lips as your hands were on his legs, propping yourself up.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, oh my god Nick,” you cried out.

“That’s it baby, moan for me, scream my fucking name. You waited so long for this, make it fucking worth it.”

His hips began thrusting up, meeting your ass as he kept slapping your ass cheeks moving from left to right, willing you to bounce faster.

“This tight pussy is just gripping my cock. I’ve got such a good view. It’s just sucking me in, so tight around me,” he moaned, watching your pussy glide on him.

“You feel so good, filling me up so much,” you croaked out.

He grabbed your ass, his hips still slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping making his cock even harder. Suddenly, your knees gave out and he continued thrusting up into you.

“Give me one more sweetheart, cum on my cock, soak these fucking sheets,” he demanded.

Your fingers dug into his legs and you soaked his cock and the sheets, your orgasm ripping through you like a sharp knife.

“What a horny little girl, so good for me, now it’s my turn.”

He held you down, his hand going to the back of your neck and pushing you into the mattress as you arched your back. He slammed into you harshly, slapping your ass and moaning your name as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, where do you want my cum princess?”

“Inside me, please Nicholas, I need your cum inside me,” you begged, gripping the soaked sheets.

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m s-sure, just please, I need your cum in me, now.”

You didn’t have to tell him a third time, he pressed you into the bed, his cum filling you up, the warm feeling making you both moan in content.

“Yes, yes, shit,” he whimpered, his voice shaky.

He flipped you over, your body landing on top of him and he quickly plugged your pussy with his cock again, preventing any of his cum from leaking out.

The two of you lay there, bodies entangled, your head resting on his chest as you both caught your breath. Every unspoken word, every stolen glance over the years, had led to this moment, and the weight of it felt as satisfying as it did intense. The quiet between you was comfortable, filled only by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

Nicholas’ hand trailed gently up and down your back, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “That was a long time coming,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through your hair. “All that teasing, all those ‘just friends’ glances, guess it had to break eventually.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling his warmth and the closeness of the moment settling around you. “Guess you’re not as good at resisting me as you thought.”

He chuckled, pulling you a little closer. “Can you blame me? You’re impossible to ignore.” He paused, then pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his expression growing a bit more serious. “You’re amazing, you know that? And, that was amazing.”

As he spoke, his eyes softened, and he looked at you with a depth that made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, but carrying the weight of everything he’d been holding back.

Your breath caught as you met his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. But the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held you close, made everything fall into place. “I- I love you too, Nicholas,” you replied, your voice just as quiet but filled with certainty.

He smiled, his hand cupping your cheek as he drew you in for another kiss, one that was slow, tender, and filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

[wonderjanga]

Warfare

You see, Marvel’s mentioned the Wisdom of Solomon before. The JL never really thought much about it. As a result, the JL just thinks Marvel has all these… interesting ideas but just never says anything about them. Though, there are a couple times the ideas are actually voiced. (They don’t know Billy is just parroting whatever Solomon or occasionally another God with tell him)

Like the time Batman and Marvel got stranded on a planet that was stuck in the middle of war. They were promised

Rebel Leader: “Do either of you have any ideas to bring to the table?”

Batman: “No. Marvel?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh uh… well I could magic a plague into the water near them. You said they’re using it for their water source, right? Then, when they’re weak, we can go around and take them out.” *sounds hesitant*

Batman: “Hmm… That could be a good idea, but what sort of plague are we talking about?”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “What.”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “Marvel, that’s fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “Well, if we’re quick, it we can get to them before they die.”

Batman: *stares for a bit, holding back a sigh* “We don’t even know if Cholera will affect their biology the same way it does humans.”

Rebel Leader: “What is this Cholera?”

Batman: “It’s a deadly waterborne disease.”

Rebel Leader: “I see… And you’re unsure whether it will work with our physiology… might I propose a different disease?”

So yes, biological warfare, that’s our first thing. Batman proceeded to spend a lot of time convincing the Rebel Leader not to nearly kill an entire group of people with their version of Cholera.

Then there was the time Bruce and Marvel were working together and got held up in a shootout at a lab.

Marvel: *looking at the various chemicals in the lab* “Gosh, I remember my first exposure to chlorine gas.” *getting nostalgic* (He’s from the 1940s in this one, guys)

Batman: “You’ve been exposed to chlorine gas?”

Marvel: “Yeah, and let me tell you, those dang Nazis were horrified when it didn’t work on me. Don’t worry though, we’re gonna be making mustard gas instead.”

Batman: “Captain, we are not doing that.”

Marvel: “Why? We have all the available ingredients.”

Batman: “Marvel.” *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Mustard gas can be fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “My bad.”

*more silence*

Batman: “Is this why you always let others plan?”

Marvel: “Are you gonna look at me weird if I say yes?”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Yes, but it won’t be visible through my cowl)

This incident checks chemical warfare off the list. Bruce is now concerned as to why most of Marvel’s ideas are either nearly fatal or just fatal.

Then there was the time Marvel went undercover with Bruce Wayne, not Batman for whatever reason. They then got attacked by pirates while on a ship trying to gather information about some supervillain.

Bruce and Marvel: *taken cover under a table while the pirates fire cannon balls at them*

Bruce: “Any ideas?” *peaks over the cover only for a cannonball to whiz right past his head*

Marvel: “I think I have one. So here’s what I’m thinking. I take out their mast, steal all their oars, and then push them out to sea and let them drift wherever.

Bruce: “That’s… Intense. Wouldn’t they starve if you just let them drift?”

Marvel: “I guess. If they’re not saved, I mean.”

Bruce: *stares with the most deadpan face* “How about I come up with a plan instead?”

Marvel: “You got it boss.”

And last but not least, the physical warfare.

By the way, Billy doesn’t know Bruce is the Bat. No, no, no, he just thinks the guy is someone Batman wants him to work with. He was a little surprised to see the dude act all brooding like Mr. Batman when he had heard from others that he was a party boy. Oh well, not his business. Meanwhile, Bruce doesn’t know Marvel thinks he’s just interacting with a capable civilian.

That last part was inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s reblog of this post. Thanks for letting me write with your idea :)

[unlikelycupcaketrash]

You want more?

I gotchu

(It’s all Danny and Lancer with the Waynes crack) (probably)

New rare pare just dropped??? Why do I kinda love Bruce/lancer

what is Mr lancers first name?? *one google search later* we don’t know but it starts with an L :/

I dub thee: Lucas

Lucas “Luke” Lancer (hell yeah, alliteration!)

So anyway Tim and Danny meet and are suspicious of each others odd behavior but ultimately end up with a more or less “I don’t ask questions about where you sneak off to and your spontaneously unimportant injuries and you don’t ask about me and mine yeah? Alr.” Type relationship, and actually hang out a lot.

The first few times Tim asked Danny about that Danny would always say that “you haven’t unlocked enough of my backstory” and move on. Tim doesn’t like this but he gave up on trying because he cant find anything weird about his paper trail and Danny’s a chill guy so it’s probably fine, I mean it not like he’s a vigilante right?

In the show his top speed was 112 mph so ima say he keeps improving his speed as he goes back n forth from Gotham to amity because let’s be so fr Valarie is handling most of the ghosts but there are some nights where it gets too much and she hast to call in backup, and by some nights I mean twice a month at least. What can I say? Amity park ghosts are mean and don’t care about your education

After Jason gets back whatever plot shenanigans you want make it so that lancer is checking up on Danny at the same time Jason has to pick up Tim for whatever and Jason recognizes Lucas but he doesn’t recognize jay yet (he will later), see where I’m going with this? Ok so they get talking (the literature nerds) and Jason decides to double down on shipping Luke with Bruce. Bruce could seriously use the normal and positive influence and hey he’s good with kids so why not? It’ll be funny!

How could he do this the most efficiently, effectively and flamboyantly?? A gala probably, but first Bruce and lancer need to be to the level of friends where they would interact/maybe even seek each other out at a high society event, so *sigh* I guess he’s going to have to invite Danny and lancer to a family dinner or something, but he’s not close enough to either of them do do that without it being weird! His whole plan is falling apart!

Oh Timmy!!!!!~~ has Jason ever mentioned that your his favorite brother?? and he’ll give you his desert at the monthly family dinners for three months if you do this one little thing for him?

So Danny ends up being invited to a Wayne dinner and oh Mr. Lancer you come in too, you came all this way, we insist! (He realizes Jason is Jason Wayne at the dinner btw)

Tim is floundering around Danny because this is the first time Danny looks well rested and with actually styled but also messy hair and what the fuck that’s his roommate! He has no right to look this cute! Tim can see his freckles instead of the ever-present eye-bags and-! wait what why is his heart beating so fast, he’s been trained by the bat! A cute boy should not be able to affect him as much as it is. He need to do some more heart rate exercises because why is Danny so cute all of a sudden and maybe it’s one of his meta powers? No they’re roommates, they live together, he would’ve noticed, and now he’s spiraling but he can’t really stop and-

Bruce is similarly struggling but he can deal with it by being such a clueless bimbo and tired dad because why are so many of his kids here? It’s not even the monthly dinner yet? Is it because of Danny and Lucas? It probably is, he should invite them over more, jay is here and talking passionately about whatever lit thing with Lucas and he will totally invite Luke over more, I mean see how much he cares about his kids? Gah he’s just so perfect- wait what?

DCxDP: The Roomate

Despite all their madness, it's no secret in Amity Park that the Fentons are certified geniuses. When Maddie and Jack Fenton first move to town, they are all anyone can talk about.

Maddie was well known among women because, at the time, women in STEM were rare, and it was even rarer for them to actually gain recognition for their efforts. Her work, confusing to most of the public, meant a lot to the women in Amity Park.

Before she arrived, she had been featured in three separate magazines: one for science, another for sponsoring a scholarship for STEM women, and the last for her inventions of self-defense accessories to arm young women. Yes, most didn't know about her until they learned that she was moving into their small town, but that was beside the point.

Her husband was a little less known, but it came as no surprise that he was also said to be rumored as a well-educated man. He had two PhDs. Two.

At the time, almost everyone in Amity Park had a high school diploma, the highest degree level of the masses. Sure, some well-off families could send their children four towns away to the closest college, but it was rare.

It was also a privilege—a means to show off at the annual street market, where the proud mothers would smugly describe their children's dorm rooms or majors to the tightly smiling neighbors.

In the early eighties, having a higher education made people appear more respected, and here was Jack Fenton, a man who had two Ph.D.s and was rumored to be working on his third. The man who had bought out the old Steward faculty building by the main street was having a crew removed into a home/laboratory.

Everyone buzzed for weeks about the new neighbors, and sharing any new details about them was exciting. It may be strange to people outside their little town, but with a population size of at least five thousand (at least in the eighties when the Fentons arrived. and the population grew well into the thousands when Axion Labs was built), news of changes was rare and few in between.

Amity Park didn't have big-shot names on their roads, much less stay to live. Heck, they only recently started getting a carnival to go by, and that was at least seventeen years since the Fentons moved in.

So, it was no surprise that Fenton's daughter showed just as large a brain as she did. Yes, the Fentons were less academic types than they were expecting, showing a rather odd obsession with the paranormal, but no one could deny their ability to build anything.

The Fenton boy was the only one who didn't live up to the family name. Danny was on the right path until Freshman year, when his grade rapidly dropped to the bottom of his class, he vanished for hours on end and went into destructive fits randomly.

He has been found among enough rooms ripped apart to know that Fenton was out of control. School staff spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton often, and the two parents genuinely seemed to take their conversations to heart, attempting to instill better behavior within Danny.

Nothing seems to work. No grounding, detentions, community work, or group meetings seem to get through the boy's head. The Fentons were at their wit's end with their youngest. Mrs. Fenton, fretting that her son had never behaved like this.

Then, ghost attacks started appearing around the same time to make things worse. While the town laughed at them at first, everyone quickly realized the Fentons were one of the few who could provide defense against the ghosts. Throughout more and more attacks, the people started to defer to the Fentons in times of crisis.

The people who once booed them now rallied around them, and it took no time for everyone to acknowledge that the Fentons were now among the highest in the town's social ladder.

That came with some benefits.

"Are you sure this would help Danny?" Maddie asks, staring at the pamphlet in obvious doubt.

"Mrs. Fenton, I assure you that I would not have recommended Daniel for the program if I didn't think it would help him," Mr. Lancer responds with great patience. "It is apparent that he is dealing with something that needs more support than the school staff can provide."

"But to send him away?" Jack cuts in, looking close to tears.

"Don't think of it as sending him away. Think of it as putting him in an environment that can help him. Frankly, Daniel is struggling here. He's been having more and more destructive fits, his teachers have noticed he's paying less and less attention in class, and a few students have even approached me saying he seems to be hiding weapons in his bag."

"Weapons?" Maddie gasps. "Our Danny?"

"Rest assured, we have done searches and investigations as these accusations are not accepted without reason. Daniel does not seem to have any on him, but I worry he may be facing severe bullying if children were willing to lie about something so serious." Mr. Lacner sooth swiftly. He sighed, leaning back in his seat as neither adult looked particularly happy by his words. "The staff and I attempt to step in when we can, but bullies always find ways to slip past us. For example, bothering him off campus. I just think Daniel will be better away from those causing him harm, especially if he really is dealing with a previously unknown mental illness."

He pulls out more pamphlets, one with testimonies from previous program participants. When Lancer left Amity Park for college, he never planned to return. He got his teaching degree alongside his associates in English and History.

Lancer had taught at a different school, a more well-known and better-funded school, but he missed his small town. He missed the neighborly people, the less noise, and Amity's clean, crisp air. He found himself quitting his Gotham Academy job in Grades six to eight, moved back home, and attempted to drag Casper High out of its failing pit.

He still struggled as the school couldn't find enough teachers. He taught four different subjects—math, History, English, and Science—whenever he could, and there was almost no funding.

But Casper High was slowly getting better every year due to the connections Lancer had made in his seven-year tenure as a Gotham Acadamy Professor. One of these connections was the father of his favorite English student.

Bruce Wayne.

Mr. Wayne attended every single one of Jason's plays, and as the Drama Club sponsor, Mr. Lancer would chat with him. Most people knew Wayne was an airhead, but Wayne was delightful to be around. Like Mr. Lancer, he cared deeply about education and always took the teacher's suggestions to bring up at PTA meetings.

When Lancer chose to move back to Amity, Jason was devastated and insisted he had Bruce's number. It was heavily implied that the board wanted Lancer gone due to his "questionable" teaching plan—he tried to teach empathy a little too much, according to some parents—and the boy thought his sudden departure was due to this.

Mr. Wayne assured him if he had been let go or pressured into leaving, he would provide Lancer with an entire team of lawyers. Touching as it was, Lancer assured them he was leaving on his own accord.

He contacted Mr. Wayne, asking for advice on how to apply for school grants or any other tips the billionaire could give him. The man was the most involved Father Lancer had ever met, including fundraising and supporting art programs.

Casper High had been this close to removing Band, Drama, Cheerleading, soccer, and Baseball because it needed more money to afford them. Not to mention all the other clubs that had vanished when Lancer was a Casper student. Bruce was happy to help him save the programs for the students.

It was the main reason Lancer was made vice principal so quickly. He was basically keeping Casper High running.

Two years later, he heard the news that Jason had been murdered. It shattered Lancer's heart. He went to the funeral and watched Mr.Wayne slowly fall apart. Even as he returned home, he tried to reach out to the man whenever he could.

It may have felt different to the other man, but Lancer always thought they were friends. Eventually, Mr. Wayne bounced back—never forgot—from Jason's death, and slowly, the gap between them was reconnected.

The reason for Mr. Wayne's mental recovery was the one that suggested this program. He had personally invited Mr. Lancer to send Daniel.

"Tim Drake is a brilliant boy," Mr. Lancer continued, watching the two couples struggle to decide. "His team is filled with trained psychologists, he has the facilities to deal with Meta children, and Daniel won't be uncomfortable rooming with him as a teenager himself."

Maddie looks at Jack, but while she sees the hurt in his eyes, she also sees his resolve. "Alright, we'll send Danny to the Meta Mentoring Program. It's what's best."

"I'll let Mr. Drake know he'll have a roommate."

[z4rph1m]

Platonic Yan!Batfam X dazai!GNreader X Yandere DC

Mix of neglected batfam and based of port mafia dazai with a small slice of ada dazai

Forgotten child

Prologue

A bastard is what you are

You were a result of a one night stand between Bruce Wayne and your mother who you don’t or will ever know the name of.

How’d you know his your father? A simple DNA test.

Who would’ve thought that a child of a billionaire Bruce Wayne would ended up in the mafia.

As much as you want to know more about your mother, it was quickly dialed down by one sentence.

“Traitors doesn’t deserve to have their name pass down”

Mori isn’t really the best person to look up to

You were at the very least 5 or older when the GCPD took you away, you don’t remember.

Alfred was the one who pick you up from the investigation.

He remembers that day as if it was yesterday.

You, a malnourished child who stayed still, staring into the darkness with no light in their eyes, bandages covering you.

It was a pity sight.

A few calling of your name to realized it time to go to your new ‘home’

You move as if you’re not even human, instead a doll who was abandoned and left to rot.

With what left of your belongings, if you even had any, Alfred with his gentle nature guided you to the car.

You didn’t even made a breathing sound, only blinking and constant fidgeting to your doll.

He tried his best to struck up a conversation with you, such as “how are you?” Yet only to be replied back with either a deafening silence or words barely above a whisper.

You were a child yet have suffered so much beyond to see the light of hope.

Only when you’ve arrived at the manor is when you started clinging more to him. Maybe it your nature as a child to be nervous to go to your new home.

With what left of your innocence, you looked up to him with a pleading look , “don’t…. Don’t let go please….”

Your voice was hoarse and dehydrated but it still sounded as if you were afraid of being left alone.

Probably the effect of losing the only person whom you know and trust.

When you cling onto him is when he took note of your entire appearance.

Yes you were covered in bandages but those bandages were not only dirty but also covered in red streaks of blood and was layered below the fresh white one.

Your clothes had some torn at end, hair being messy and full of knots, sections of your skin having bruises.

Alfred was more than ready to hold your hand while guiding you to wherever you two go together.

Yes the absent of your family was saddened you but Alfred company was what you wanted.

You didn’t care for the others, not when they ignore you 90% of the time and not when Alfred is there with whenever he has the chance.

In your mind, Bruce Wayne is not your father no, instead it was Alfred Pennyworth.

But even that doesn’t stop you from being what you are now.

Bruce Wayne, the man who is your supposed father. Do you hate him? Not really.

You can’t really hate a man you barely know your whole life.

And it wasn’t hard to learn what does he do for a living other than being a man whore.

He bare- actually never even had a proper conversation that lasted more than 3 seconds.

The dude didn’t even notice the increasing amount of bandages when you first stared in the port mafia.

Richard Grayson, the second person to talk to you after Alfred. Do you also hate him? A mix feeling really.

You know about him more than you know about Bruce, on what he doing when he’s Nightwing, what he’s favourite food, and just the minimalist stuff.

You don’t exactly have the right feeling to describe your relationship with him.

Do you talk? Barely. Do you have a proper conversation? Never. Spend time together? Nope.

In short, you don’t think the two of you are fitted to be considered siblings.

Jason Todd, was probably the closest to you.

You saw him being taken in as a robin and died as a robin.

Yes you two mocked eachother in terms of whatever you can remember but at the very least there was interactions between the two of you in comparison to the others.

As much as you hated it, you did infact miss his presence when he died.

Timothy Drake was the most distant than all of them combine. The two of you didn’t have a single conversation or even a single sentence to eachother.

You knew well he’s a fan of Batman and probably didn’t even knew you existed or just didn’t care since you’re not one of the vigilante.

Not that you care, you never identify yourself as a Wayne anyway

Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon…… how should you describe them….

Just like Tim, you don’t exist in their world, but instead a background character.

You were sure that they can’t even remember your name properly without mispronouncing.

But You do sure as hell do love it when you’re given a nickname by someone

Last of all, Your half Brother. Damian Wayne, as much as the two of you barely talk, the first meeting wasn’t very welcoming.

Almost being impaled doesn’t give out a nice first impression after all.

You mostly try your best to ignore the insults and the degrading words from him.

The little kid barely met you yet for some reason hold a deep hatred for you like you did something illegal.

You’re currently standing in front of a grave….. someone who was there to take care of you in the port mafia.

You stare blankly at the grave, not knowing what to do, wether to breakdown and cry or to leave it alone.

You were trembling, sweating and on the verge of actually breaking down yet something is holding you back.

Oda Sakunosuke

Your father figure after Alfred is dead.

Ango is right by your side trying his best to comfort you.

As much as you were a demon prodigy, he knew that deep down there’s a child who’s unable to act like one.

You shrugged him off before walking away to do a phone call.

“Alfred….? I know it’s a sudden but…. Please clean up my room…… I no longer staying at the manor from now on”

You try your best to held in your tears but your voice betrays you, and Alfred knows that.

He swallow a lump in his throat before replying, “don’t worry Master [N], I understand. But do please remember that I will always be there to welcome you”

He was the only one who knows about your work in the Port Mafia and the only one who you trusted to told it too.

He knows about the people you met and the people who you befriended.

He understands how a death of one of them can put you on the verge of losing what left in your humanity and to live.

And he knows that the death of your second father figure can cause you distorted in many ways.

Inspired by @-acid-ixx again & again series and @-marcyvampire silly little bat.

[phregnancy]

can I just say I don’t think Dan and phil have ever had sex and I’m being so serious when I say this. I’ve said this before to other people and was asked if I’m trolling but seriously think about it. People talk and theorize about that part of their lives but they’ve never really said anything that could lead me to thinking that they have (or do??) and I think it’s crazy that it’s so widely accepted as fact. If they have before (in the far past) I certaintly don’t think they’d do it now. I get the vday vid proof but honestly even then who’s to say that was referencing sex?? I don’t think they’d do that (or even kiss.. different conversation for a different day) so close to the first time they met. If they did I doubt it was before the vday video

do you not think they’re together at all after dan confirmed they are a normal gay couple in the wad interview and everything he said in big? because otherwise what is your mental process here. two men who we definitively know experience sexual and romantic attraction, choosing to be together forever, but not touching each other? do you think pj and sophie have never kissed or had sex either because they don’t reference it on camera? do you go outside and interact with couples who you do not know intimately and if they don’t reference sex with each other or kiss in front of you do you think they don’t do those things at all? what are you expecting them to do to signal to you personally that they have sex?

[littlereddream]

Of Whiskey and Venom

A/n: cowboy Jason Todd x Reader, f!reader, there will be multiple parts to this because I can’t help myself.

Owing debts to outlaws means playing dangerous games. You know that, well and true. When Carmine Falcone finds out that you don’t have the money to pay him back, he offers you one final method of payment. Your debt would be forgiven in its entirety, so long as you walk yourself to the notorious Red Hood’s camp and surrender yourself with the claim that you’re part of the Falcone’s.

In Gotham, big of a town as it is, word gets around to people fast. Whether it was through gossip or the newspaper boys hard at work, most things never stayed secret.

Usually, it was annoying. Last year, some nosy neighbor had discovered that you’d managed to get your hands on some quality eggs, courtesy of a friend of yours down South. Within the week, almost half of your neighbors had collected at your door at some point or another to ask for some. Would be a shame not to share, they’d said.

Usually, the knowledge of any of your personal business getting out would set you on edge. It’s never been any good to you, only ever causing trouble.

Today, you find cause to be grateful for the quickly spread word. If not for Gotham’s tendency to whisper in each other’s ears, your neighbor would never have come to knock on your front door that morning, all out of breath with urgency all over her.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” she’d panted. “Run. Run and don’t come back!”

You’d quickly invited her inside, checking outside left and right before shutting the door.

“Mary, the hell’s gotten into you?”

But all she’d done is deliver a soft smack across your shoulder.

“Take this seriously! Darlin, it’s Falcone.” You still remember the ice that had trailed its way down your spine. “My husband, Rupert, told me that he’d overheard some of his boys talking about it. He’s lookin for you.”

You forced yourself to shake your head, pushing back the instinct to freeze up entirely.

“Mary, it just ain’t possible. Falcone and I, we- all of my business with him has been settled.”

“Yes, well, he doesn’t seem to agree. Now, go on! Pack your things. I’ve taken a horse from the stable for you. She’s a fast girl, just old. Won’t nobody come looking for either of you.”

In the end, you’d had enough sense to listen to her, but there was no packing your bags fast enough to escape Falcone. Midway through packing food for your trip, long after Mary had left, you’d heard a different kind of knock at your door. Demanding. Angry.

That whole interaction felt like ages ago to you now, including the conversation you’d had with the man. He’d explained it to you simply, tone so light you’d hardly believe the weight of the words he cracked into your skin, like a cane to a horse.

Apparently, all that time ago when you’d paid back your debt to the man who’d come to collect it from you, there had been a breach in loyalty within Falcone’s gang. Your debt collector had taken the liberty of deciding his own pay, stealing nearly half of the money you’d paid for himself rather than handing over the full amount.

Despite it being an error within his own system, Falcone refused to hear your bargaining. You’d even gone so far as to promise him that money again, all you’d need was a month.

He’d shut you down quicker than you could finish making the offer.

Instead, Falcone offered you a counter proposal.

It’s that counter proposal that has you currently making the solo hike to the Red Hood camp, handcuffs digging uncomfortably into your wrists set in front of you.

What Falcone offered to you went as such: After one of Falcone’s newer men went out and shot a man from the Red Hoods, Hood demanded to be delivered one of Falcone’s own as a leveling of justice and show of goodwill. A gesture to calm the waters between them, since the last thing anybody in town wanted was for the two most dangerous gangs to have it out for each other.

Your job is to be that token of goodwill, to march your way into that camp and declare yourself as a surrender member of the Falcone’s to fulfill their demands.

Do so, and he’d make the kind decision not to take the life of the neighbors that tried to aid in your attempted escape.

The camp is far into the woods, well outside Gotham itself, causing your dress to catch in every grown out bush and twig. Your feet ache from walking so long in the wrong shoes, while your hands haven’t stopped shaking since you were forced to leave home.

There is no getting out of this, you know that. If you run away now, if Falcone finds out that you didn’t settle this debt for him, there would be no corner of the earth far enough for you to hide. It’s either he kills you, or you take your chances with a gang so successfully underground, not even law enforcement knows the real name of its leader. Doesn’t mean they’re any less brutal, though.

You’re going to die, all because Falcone’s men can’t do their jobs, whether that be collecting debts or not shooting the wrong damn people.

There’s a point where the path you walk narrows out, becomes thin and difficult to follow. At some point, you can hardly tell which direction you’re supposed to head, saved only by the spots of recent horseshoe markings in the dirt.

It feels like any second, you’ll be surrounded by people with rifles pointed right at your head. With each step, your breathing further shallows into something unintentionally quieter. A bush rustles to your right, and you feel like an idiot for flinching back when a rabbit runs right out and past you.

After so long walking, you’re starting to think that Falcone could’ve been wrong about the location of the camp. After all, this part of the woods look completely wild, utterly untouched if not for the occasional broken twig or trail marking.

“Who’s there?” A voice shouts out.

Then there’s a gun being pointed to the side of your head. Well, at least you know that if there’s ever an award for jinxing yourself, you’d win it. Or maybe not, considering you’re very likely to be killed within the next few minutes.

“Carmine Falcone’s debt,” you say simply, proud that you’d managed to keep the waiver out of your voice.

There’s a pause in the air, before you can see the man’s mouth pull into a grimace out of the corner of your eye. “That so?” He mutters. “Right. Well, you’re going the wrong way. Come on.”

The redhead, whoever he is, takes great care not to spook you. His rifle, attached to a belt over his shoulder, is exchanged for a single handgun, one just within reach tucked into a holster. The hold he has on your forearm is surprisingly careful, less there to keep you from running and more to guide you through the confusing twists and turns of the woods.

“Watch your step,” he warns. “Hood is gonna be pissed.”

“Why?” You risk asking.

So long as the debt is settled, it seems to you that Hood would be getting everything he specified in his deal. You’re the one being screwed over here.

“Cause, it looks to me like Falcone sent over somebody he doesn’t mind losing instead of an honorable trade.”

You raise a brow. “Who says I ain’t a high value exchange?”

The redhead snorts. “Are you kiddin? You don’t got a single gun-wielding callus on you. We lost one of our best that day, and Falcone sent us you.”

A pause.

“No offense.”

“None taken,” you grumble, bitter for reasons you don’t even know yourself. Maybe it’s because you’re being completely screwed over here, but who’s to say?

It’s not long before the overgrown woods level out into a large clearing, the man weaving you past hitched horses to reveal a large camp. It’s nothing like what you’d expected, hearing what you have about the Red Hoods. Vile, vicious, and mean.

Come to find out their camp looks like an isolated meadow, sun shining down on their colorful tents. From where you’re standing, you can see a young child playing with an even younger puppy. Just past that, there’s a table of people gathered around two women who look to be playing five finger fillet.

The redhead calls out to an older woman to your left who you hadn’t even noticed, sitting quietly as she polished a hunting knife on her pants. What you’d do to be wearing pants instead of a dress right now.

“Ma Gunn,” he greets. “Got a moment?”

“Depends, Roy. More of your trouble?” She says pointedly, but Roy only laughs.

“Not this time. Just got some business to discuss with Hood. Mind keeping the young lady here some company?”

Ma Gunn waves Roy off with a free hand, sheathing the knife and standing.

“Go.”

And then you’re alone with her. Ma Gunn’s eyes are fixed on the metal binding your hands together.

“In some trouble with the law, dear?” She raises a brow. You’re not quite sure what to say to deny it, but some part of your face must look panicked because she breaks out into a quiet laugh. “Relax. We’re hardly the kind of people to judge you for having lawmen after you, not that we’d have any right to.”

Right. Outlaws.

“Besides, you don’t seem like the gunslinging type.”

“Roy said the same,” you tell her.

She snorts. “Course he did. How’d you end up here anyway? Tell me you’re not thinking of joining in. I’m telling you, it might seem nice at first, but it’s nothin worth putting up with Bizarro’s cooking.”

“No, not joining in. I’ve got a debt to settle between Mr. Falcone and Hood.”

It’s within an instant that the woman’s face changes, much more grim than just a moment ago. She looks at you like you’ve already been damned, no shot at survival left to you.

Roy’s back already, tipping his hat in thanks towards Ma Gunn, whose eyes still haven’t left your cuffed wrists.

“Hood wants to see you. Come on, I’ll take you over.” Roy doesn’t touch you this time, just hovers his hand over his lower back like he can force you to move telepathically. You do.

Together, you’re approaching one of the biggest tents in the camp, far in the back. Entirely red, though what else did you expect?

You stop in front of the fabric curtains.

“I think it’s best if you head in alone. Good luck.”

Right. With a final deep breath, you duck into the tent. It feels like stepping into your own casket.

You find that the inside looks bigger than the outside, complete with a large cot, a table surrounded by chairs, and a small bookshelf. At the table sits a man you can only assume is Hood himself, feet resting on the wood as he leans back in his seat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, gambler hat set on the edge of the table just by his boots.

He’s surprisingly handsome, sharply contrasting all the stories people tend to spread about him. When he’s not wearing a bandana, he’s said to be grotesquely scarred, some even say to the point of deformity. The man is front of you is very much not that, all sharp features with the only visible scars on his face being one over his lower lip and the other down across his brow.

You step forward into the tent, and the wood beneath your feet creaks. Quick as gunfire, narrowed green eyes level with yours. There’s a hint of disbelief in them, like he can’t quite believe his eyes.

“By Gotham, that fool was telling the truth.” You hear him say, gruff and mumbled.

It takes more effort than you’d ever admit to speak without breaking down right there. You’re practically speaking to your executioner right now.

“Hood, right? Carmine Falcone sent me to-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know why he sent you.” Hood drags a hand down his face. “Well, isn’t this just a mess.”

With a tired sigh, Hood calls you forward with a beck of his fingers. Once you’re at the other end of the table, he motions for you to take a seat. You do, albeit on unstable legs. It’s a miracle your knees don’t just buckle when you move to sit.

“So, tell me. This Carmine’s idea of a joke?”

“No, I-“

“He think it’s funny to send me a girl he picked up from who knows where? Send her to her death just to get off clean?”

“If you’d just-“

“Come on, doll. I wanna know. Why the hell is Falcone sending me you instead of what I asked for?”

Hood’s eyes are cold as steel, but you’ve got the strange feeling that his anger isn’t entirely directed at you. Still, better not to assume.

“I am what you asked for. You weren’t cheated.”

Hood snorts, entirely humorless. “You? Now, forgive me for my doubts, but I’m having a hard time-“

This time, you’re cutting him off. “I am,” you insist.

Hood pauses to look at you. Really look at you. There’s an amusement settling in his posture that you don’t like, one that promises nothing good for you.

“Right. Well, who am I to tell you what you are or aren’t? Far be it from me.”

He’s reaching for his hip, unholstering the revolver strapped there and setting it down on the table. You watch the motion as he does it, staring down the weapon between the two of you like it could shoot you without its handler ever touching it.

“This gun here? This is one of my most prized possessions. If this whole tent were to catch fire right now, everything I hold dear tucked inside, this gun would be the only thing I’d bother savin.”

He’s watching your reactions carefully, so you're just as careful to keep your expression back. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, so better he not find anything at all.

“Now, I personally believe actions speak much louder than words. I won’t sit here and call you a liar for telling me you’re a gunslinging outlaw straight from Falcone’s best, but I will tell you to prove it to me.”

Hood nudges the gun closer to where you’re sitting. “So go on and prove it. Take my own gun and shoot me. Eliminate any threat I pose to you within seconds, selfish and brutal.”

You can do nothing but sit there in stunned silence, hands tightly gripping the fabric over your lap. “Hood, I don’t-“

“I insist.”

Your hands shake when you bring them up with a sheepish grin. “Can’t exactly do that with cuffed hands, mister.”

Hood waves you off. “I’ve done worse things than shoot a man with my hands cuffed. Come on, Miss, prove it to me. Unless you can’t.” He tilts his head at the end.

To kill a man, to take a life. You can’t just do that. As is sensing your inner turmoil, Hood offers you a sarcastic pout.

“Weighing on your conscience, is it? Well, if it helps you any, it wouldn’t be a good man you’re killing. I’ve committed too many crimes to be clean of anything. All you’ve gotta do is put a bullet between the eyes of a man who might just kill you unless you do. Not so much of a choice, is there. I sure know what I’d do, if I was you.”

Hood is egging you on, pushing you to prove him wrong. He wants you to do this, wants you to pick up that gun and send a bullet straight through him. He wants you to because he knows you won’t.

The worst part is that he’s right.

You turn your head away from the gun, away from him. It’s answer enough.

You see Hood nod slowly out of the corner of your eye, reaching for his gun to holster it with a rustle and a click. He sets his feet back down to the ground, crossing his arms over the table to lean forward.

“Alright. So tell me again now. Why did Falcone send you?”

The change in tone has you thrown for a loop. Within seconds, the pressing intimidation from before is gone, now much softer in comparison.

So you tell him everything. From your neighbor at your door, from your debt to Falcone, the threats he’d made, all the way to the present moment. This time, Hood doesn’t interrupt you once. He listens carefully, nodding at all of the right places to each relevant point. When you finish, he simply asks you if there’s anything else worth mentioning. At the shake of your head, Hood stands.

“I’ll have someone let Falcone know that his exchange has been well received. So long as he thinks you’re with us now, no one you know will be bothered. As for you, you’ll be free to do whatever you want with your days, just as long as you’re here during the nights. How’s that work for you?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare. Then, ever so cautiously, you dare to ask, “you’re not gonna kill me?”

Hood shrugs. “I have no reason to. This way, you’ll be safe and I won't be bothered by Falcone trying to buy back my truce.”

“But what about your whole…you know.”

Hood raises a brow at you, urging you to continue.

“You know. The whole ���eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ thing.”

Hood grins, toothy and predatory. “Trust me, doll, I’ll still be getting something back from Falcone. I tend not to forgive easy. Hands out for me.”

Quicker than you can process his intentions past putting out your hands, Jason is drawing out his revolver and shooting the chain between your cuffs quicker than you can flinch. He ignores your stunned expression, clipping his weapon back to himself.

“I’ll ask the girls to get you some decent clothes and set you up a tent. Pleasure meeting you.”

Without another word, he’s exiting the tent and leaving you to stare at the chain that used to link your wrists, now scattered into tiny pieces of metal across wood.

[084thoughts]

THANK YOU. seasons 7 and 8 have such different pacing than the other seasons.

they also dropped a lot of supporting cast members that fleshed out the world 911 is in. all the recurring characters at dispatch are gone. (sue, terry, linda). they had lena, taylor, albert, lucy, ransone, the other detective guy i don’t remember, carla, toni, hen’s med school peers, jonah….allowing the main cast to have obstacles and new interactions instead of just the main cast retreading the same thing for 2/3 eps.

athena’s entire family was written off, which is v weird bc her storylines have always focused on her relationship w may, harry, and micheal, and integrating bobby and david into it.

ravi is missing. they intentionally wrote half a season without christopher, like for what? eddie’s arc in 8x06 could’ve been dealt with 3 fucking episodes ago, either in one ep or throughout several (a scene in 8x01, maybe something in 8x03 post-plane crash, and then wrap it up in 8x04!).

Story lines aside, 911 has got to fix its pacing problem this season because no matter how enjoyable a lot of the scenes might be, too many episodes are starting to feel like an extremely polished production of tiktoks stitched together.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 30

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,855ish

Summary: You and Logan still struggle with your relationship. The two of you make a decision to help ease the struggles.

Warnings: Emotional, Angst, Injuries

Notes: crossing my fingers that you guys will be okay with this chapter...

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

“So, how are you and Logan doing?” Ororo asked one morning at breakfast.

“Fine,” you responded with a shrug. “We have a lot of work to do, but we’re working through it.”

“He does seem a little more on edge around the kids, as do you.”

You sighed. “I’ve actually been thinking… I think Logan and I should go away for a while.”

“Wait, you two want to leave?”

“I haven’t brought it up to Logan yet, and it wouldn’t be forever… we just need a space where we can focus on just the two of us. We’re constantly thrown every which way with classes, missions, and world-ending scenarios. Logan and I need to simply be us for a while and figure out what that means.”

“I… do whatever you have to do.” Ororo stood up. “I’ve got a class to teach.”

“Ororo, please stay and talk.” 

But she slipped out of the room. You sighed, hiding your head in your hands. That was the position Logan found you in. He quietly came up behind you and rested your hands on your shoulders. He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered against your neck.

You leaned back into him, looking up at him. “I made Ororo upset.”

“What did you do?” You sighed, looking back down. “Hey.” He sat down beside you. “I thought we were doing better with the talking shit.” He hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face to look at him. “Tell me.”

“I told Ororo about something I was going to talk to you about.”

“And that was…?”

“About leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“I was thinking that we need some time to ourselves. To figure things out and just be us.”

“But this is your home. Would you really be okay leaving it?”

“Logan, you’re my home. And you were long before this was.”

Logan studied your gaze and could see that you were telling the truth, but he worried that after a while, he wouldn’t be enough. You at least had people here, other mutants, to lean on when the two of you were struggling. If it’s just you and him? Then you’d have no one. Logan was okay with that for himself but not for you.

“I thought that we’ve been doing well here,” Logan said, trying to see if he could get you to change your mind. 

His words took you back. “You want to stay? You’re constantly trying to run.”

“I just want you to really think about it, sweetheart. I don’t want you to leave and then regret it.”

“You think that I’d regret being with you?”

“That’s not what I said—“

You pulled away, standing up. “But it’s what you meant, right?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He stood up as well, growing angry. 

“Do you not want this long-term, Logan? Am I just your person until a new, better one comes along?”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“Morning! Oh—“ Bobby stopped in the doorway. “I can see that this is not a good time, so I—“

“No, Bobby, we’re done here,” you told him, rushing off.

“Y/N!” Logan yelled after you, hurrying to follow you. He followed you into the gardens. “Now, who’s running?!”

“Oh, please,” you spun around. “You’ve wanted to run since the moment you got here!”

“Yes, but I stayed for you!”

“Oh, I feel so honored.”

“You know what, maybe I should go. Since it’s clear that I’m unable to hit the high expectations you have set for me.”

“You are the reason for those high expectations.”

“Ugh! I’m not that person anymore! And I’m sick and tired of feeling like shit all the time about that!”

Logan’s hand flew out as he was talking, his claws accidentally unsheathing. Before either of you knew it, the claws were cutting against your cheek. You gasped, stumbling back as your hand came up to hold your cheek.

“Oh my God,” he sputtered. He hid his claws before reaching for you. “Sweetheart—“ You stepped back, breaking both of your hearts. Logan’s fingers were tingling. If you didn’t let him try to fix this—if you didn’t let him touch you, Logan would never trust himself to touch someone again. “Please let me—“

“No,” you shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks. “Just… leave me alone.”

You rushed off back into the mansion. You knew that Logan didn’t mean to hurt you, but you needed time and space. 

Logan was frozen in his spot. The high emotions had gotten the best of both of you, but especially his claws. He had hurt you, and he was fully conscious for it. This was different than him having a nightmare. This was much worse.

~~~

You had sat in front of the mirror, watching the three cuts along your cheek heal into scars. Tears streamed down your face the entire time while you thought of Logan. Both of you were in the wrong here, and this was a complete accident. You were thinking about what to say to Logan when you started to hear drawers slamming in Logan’s room. Rushing out of your room, you looked into his room to see him stuffing his clothes into a bag.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

Logan spun to face you. Slowly, his hand reached out to brush against the scars on your cheek, but he didn’t let his hand actually make contact.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” his voice was completely broken, tears lining his eyes. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you… yet I keep doing it.” He shook his head and got back to packing. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep hurting you. I can’t be the person you need… The person I was before…”

“And this will make it better? I’ve messed up in this relationship, too. This is not just on you. I’m sorry for making it seem like I’m forcing you to be that person again. I know that you’ve changed, so I have, and that’s okay. I still love you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Stop that.” You slipped in between him and the dresser. He kept his head down, not willing to make eye contact. “Fine. Tell me you don't love me, and I’ll let you walk away. But you have to look me in the eye and be honest with me.”

You nibbled your bottom lip as you waited for Logan to make the next move. You could tell that there was a war waging in his mind. His eyes suddenly snapped to yours.

“I… I can’t do that,” he murmured. “I love you.”

You quickly pulled him by his shirt to kiss him. He dropped his bag and slid his hands to the small of your back.

“If you really want to leave,” you whispered against his lips, “then you have to take me with you.”

“Okay,” he replied. 

~~~

“It’s not forever,” you said as you hugged Ororo. “We’ll stay in contact and visit. Logan and I just need to figure things out.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ororo responded, pulling back. “I’ll miss the both of you.”

“You ready?” Logan asked, coming up from the truck he had just packed. 

He had already said goodbye to Marie and Bobby before packing the truck, knowing that you would need some time with Ororo.

“I think so,” you responded. “See you later, Ororo.”

“See you,” she replied.

You took Logan’s hand, and he led you to the truck. He opened the door and helped you in before going around to the driver’s seat. You turned back and watched as the mansion grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Logan placed a hand on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, clearly concerned. “We can turn back around.”

You laced your fingers through his and scooted closer to Logan, very thankful for the bench seat. “I’m okay,” you told him. You kissed his shoulder. “Where are we headed?”

“I have a place in mind.”

“Care to tell?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you get some rest?”

“You sure?”

He leaned over and kissed your head. “I’m sure.”

You hummed in content as you rested your head on his shoulder and let yourself relax. Logan’s lifted up in a barely-there smile as you tried your best to cuddle into him. 

~~~

You didn’t bother to ask Logan where the two of you were headed again. You kept yourself occupied with books and naps when you weren’t talking to Logan. It was already proving to be worth it, as the farther the two of you drove from the mansion, the less tension there was. Logan insisted on driving the whole way, and so far you’ve had to beg him to stop to sleep in motels for the three nights you’ve been on the road so far.

It didn’t shock you when the two of you crossed over into Canada. You figured that Logan would always feel a call back there. The shock factor was later as the two of you drove up an old, familiar road in the Canadian Rockies.

“Logan, where—“

“Just patience, okay?” He cut you off. “I’ll explain soon.”

You simply nodded, focusing on the trees you were passing out the window. Your heart started pounding the closer you got to the top. Before you knew it, the small house appeared and Logan was pulling up to it. It looked just how you remembered it. You were too busy staring that you didn’t realize Logan had gotten out of the truck and walked around to your side. He opened the door and took your hand.

“Come on,” he urged, tugging you out of the truck. “Let’s go inside.”

“Inside?” You repeated. “It’s probably a disaster. We—“ Your eyes widened as Logan pulled you inside. The place was clean, updated, and furnished. “What? How?”

“Charles. We had a conversation about when Jean died, and I got part of my memories back. He knew that we would need a place to start over and found where we used to live. Before I could stop it, he had people here fixing it up.”

You let go of his hand and began slowly walking around the house. Your hands gently trailed against the walls and updated pieces of furniture. 

“You and Charles…” you breathed out. “You did all this?”

“Is it okay?” Logan was clearly nervous. “We can go somewhere else. I just know that this was the—“ You shut him up with a kiss.

“This is perfect. Thank you. But know that I don't expect you to be the same person as before. Time has changed both of us… are you okay with being here?”

“Yes. I even already got a job as a lumberjack.”

“Oh, got the old job back?”

Logan chuckled. “Somethin’ like that. I start in a week.”

“So I have a week of you all to myself?”

“A whole week.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Can we try out the new bed?”

A devious smirk formed over Logan’s lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[missfrustration]

a scholar's secret (nanami kento x reader 18+)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, college/university au, teacher/student relationship, face-fucking, marking, semi-public sex, desk sex, mildly dubious consent, suit kink, light bondage, accidental voyeurism, no use of y/n

A/n: 🎵THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDERRR🎵 who likes the men in suits kink?? THIS QUEEN. on ao3 here!

word count: 5.3k (too long)

------

“Don’t call me by that name; that’s extremely disrespectful, young lady. I am your senior, and you will address me as such.”

“I’ll do whatever I want, Nanami .” You cross your arms, looking at your professor sitting at his desk across the room. 

Today, he asked you to stay after school for remedial lessons. You’ve been failing his class recently, which he doesn’t take lightly. You couldn’t give less of a shit, however, since It isn’t the class you’re bothered about; it’s him.

Nanami Kento is the one who’s constantly been on your mind. You can't deny your attraction toward your English professor even when you're almost a decade younger than him, but your current situation makes your feelings impossible to hide.

“Do you want to stay in this program or not? If you keep skipping my classes, the school will drop you out.” He points at you with a pen in hand. 

“Do you even want me to stay? You could kick me out yourself if I’m such a burden.” You sit on the student desk closest to Nanami, crossing your legs. Nanami clicks his tongue at the action, now looking at you up and down.

“Yes, I want all of my students to stay and pass. And that includes you, too.” He shifts to rest his head on his palm. “You’re intelligent enough to pass this class with flying colors, so why don’t you try?”

“Why don’t I ? You don’t take me seriously! Do you think I should give a shit-”

Nanami calls your name, cutting you off, “Watch your language. Now . I will not tolerate this disobedience in my classroom.” 

He’s not playing around anymore, but that annoyed look of his as he lazily puts his chin on his palm pisses you off more. You kick off the table, back onto the carpeted floor, and pace behind his desk. He keeps eye contact with you without swiveling his head, watching your every move with indifference. 

“Or what ? Gonna fucking kick me out? Seems like the right course of action, considering I’m just some bitch you couldn’t care less about.” You spit out.

He slowly turns to you, raising his head from his hands, which causes you to back down. “Hey,” Nanami starts getting up to face you entirely, “I said language. Watch yourself, young lady. ” 

You’ve had about enough of this. If this is how it’s gonna be, you didn’t even care about winning his affection anymore. You just need to say what’s on your mind. You’re probably going to get kicked off the roster either way.

You look at him and lower your voice as you step closer. “I know that you know, Nanami.”

He raises his eyebrow as you continue. 

“I can’t keep taking your class if you silently reject me. If you treated me like a nobody, maybe it would be better. Instead, you have me stay after class doing stupid lessons like that will change anything.”

You pause for a minute, feeling the back of your eyes water and a cry come to your throat. You feel so frustrated with him right now but crying would make things so much worse. You continue with your head down, putting an extended emphasis on your words to quell your emotions. “It’s… torture for me. I can’t keep seeing your face in class anymore.”

You raise your head to see the man standing in front of you. He gets up from his chair and crosses his arms.

Nanami closes his eyes and gives a long sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry. I thought this would be helpful for you given the situation, but now I realize I was mistaken.”

He ends his sentence, looking back at you silently for a reply. You stare at him, growing more furious the longer he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you. That’s all you have to say to me, asshole?” You spit out.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Stop spouting that unpleasant language.”

“Oh, yeah? Make me then, Nanami .” You raise your hand to point at him. Before you could, Nanami grabbed your hand and gripped it. Hard. You try to free yourself, but your teacher won’t let go. 

“Hey, get off!”

“No.”

“This is extremely unprofessional of you.”

Nanami cocks his head and twists your wrist, which plagues your discomfort, “Huh. I could say the same for you, young lady. Watch your mouth.”

You try to free your wrist again and again. To no avail, it only makes his grip tighten. Your tears have dissipated, leaving behind the pent-up rage you’ve built from this man. 

“Just. Let. Me. Leave!”

“No can do.”

You start to turn away. With your back facing him, you try to free your wrist still grabbed by your professor. With each tug to break free, you spit out the vulgarity, “Ugh, you’re an asshole. An idiot. A moron. Shitbag. Useless profess-”

You feel a harsh tug on your wrist as you whirl around. You feel dazed and confused, letting out a small yelp that is silenced by his lips clashing against yours and rough hands falling on your waist. Against your lips, Nanami mutters.

“You brat.” 

As your back falls against Nanami’s desk, you lean forward to deepen the kiss, earning a growl from him. Nanami’s scent instantly infiltrated your nose, a nutty musk and vanilla that fit him perfectly. His grip gets harsher when he feels you comply with his touch and your bodies close as you take your pent-up frustrations on each other.  You dig your nails through the roots of his hair. He grabs your waist with need, cutting your thighs onto the rigid wood, which causes you to squeak in surprise. 

You think Nanami has finally snapped out of his hypnosis when he slowly separates himself from you with a sour look. He shakes his head with a lingering sigh, tapping a finger to your forehead.

“I thought you would’ve learned to keep your mouth shut, but I can see you didn’t get that through that pretty little head.”

“I’m curious to hear what else you expect me to learn when you want to shut me up like this .”

He brushes his hair back as he looks you up and down, taking down your body in a generous display that makes your face heat up. Your thin bra and shirt revealed the protusion of your nipples, and those tight, low-rise jeans showed enough midriff to be noticeable. He bluntly ignores your comment, and you can tell by his knit brows and darting eyes that he’s entirely in his thoughts.

“Dammit, you pesky girl, if I keep going, I’ll be in huge trouble.”

You are dumbfounded at this turn of events. As Nanami hints, separating your bodies to stop this very inappropriate advance would be the best course of action, yet your limbs are still entangled; you don’t push yourself off the desk, and your faces stay tapered to the intimate space. You see his lips pursed and his temples relaxed. The chisel of his jaw was somehow sharper in your proximity, now making him look more irresistible. 

“I can keep a secret.” You say.

Desperation takes over as you brush past his tie, feeling the tight muscles that hold shape under his pressed suit. You bawl your fists tightly onto Nanami’s fitted suit jacket before diving your lips to his. Now you were the hungry one. Nanami matches your pace, promptly leading the kiss as he presses into your body.

“We are so fucked if we get caught, huh?” You can’t keep a smile off your face against his lips, reveling in the fact that Nanami’s whole career is on the line—all because of you.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t see what you’re trying to do then. Lose your job?” 

Nanami clicks his tongue at the sudden cockiness you’ve shown, tilting your face up to meet his gaze and smushing your cheeks between the pads of his fingers. You note that his hands are unusually soft.

“I’m trying to shut up that filthy mouth of yours.” 

His brows are furrowed, almost angry at you for making him say the things he seems desperate to conceal. You could care less if he’s agitated; he has you so worked up that your feelings are in a daze–well, except for the feeling that makes you want to moan against the stiffened fingers that clutch your skin.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

He lifts you onto his desk, pushing past a stack of papers. It didn’t matter that the last essay for your class cascaded on the floor at that moment. What did matter was the way Nanami’s hands laid on your button-up blouse, pulling it apart so rough the plastic buttons flew off your shirt, clattering across the floor. You moan erotically before Nanami’s large hand clamps on your mouth, muffling you.

“ Ah, ah. We don’t need anyone hearing that,” Nanami says, his hand unfastening from your lips yet idles in the air. “Obey this one thing, at least.”

“What if I don’t want to?” 

“Then, I’ll teach you an outstanding lesson while we’re at it.” Nanami pulls his tie off cleanly, leaving the collar slack from his broad neck. He slips his suit jacket off with ease and tosses it to the ground. 

“Teaching me anything this year hasn’t been your strong suit.”

“Well, we don’t need to do this the hard way, but with that attitude? That’s where you're headed,” Nanami grabs both of your breasts under that thin bra of yours, freeing them from the cups before diving in to taste them.

A small pant escapes your lips at the sensation, arching your back to give your professor more access. He takes the opportunity, using his teeth to slowly drag across your nipples. Your knuckles clench against the desk as you try to stay quiet. Even if your threshold for pleasure without moaning like an animal is barely existent, you want more from Nanami. You want him to rile up, to give him a face other than stoicism and agitation. 

“What’s the hard way ? Being fucked in your classroom?” You thrall, unable to hide that smirk that tells Nanami exactly which option you prefer. “Maybe making me your private lesson for the day?”

Nanami scoffs, using your name as a cautionary tale, to tell you to not push him. You swing your feet on his desk, knocking the back of your shoes off the wood, and grabbing your tits to playfully taunt him. You twist the nipples in front of him, giving him your feigned faces of arousal, grabbing the fat like it didn’t matter to you. You wanted it all to matter to him, and you certainly didn’t miss those eyes that glanced at your display before looking back up.

“ Oh , I love a challenge, baby.” You sing, reaching up to pull him closer, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt to reveal a soft glimpse of clavicle. 

His hands catch both of yours.

Before you could feel the skin underneath that white shirt, Nanami’s hands took your hips and dragged you back on the ground, away from the desk and probably the last chance you had to back out. Not like you had any intention to back out anyway.

“Get on your fucking knees.” He says. The words come out so dark, so lustful , so purposeful that you would’ve never expected from your English professor.

You didn’t even need to think about it. The way you immediately knelt on the ground like an obedient dog for your instructor is concerning. You watch his hands reach above his trouser pants, see his well-manicured nails travel right at the hem in front of you, and pull out the dress shirt he tucked so neatly in place. Once his brown leather belt clicked off, you didn’t need to consider future repercussions. 

“The rest of it. Take it off.” He tells you.

Your skinny fingers unbutton his suit pants and inch down his boxers, catapulting his hard-on out in the air. You practically whimper at the sight. His dick is more than you imagined in all those lectures you sat in on. It's curved with a prominent and a large vein running from head to base, making you shift your legs. You thought about him in the same lectures where you would catch eyes with Nanami and let both eyes travel to each other. Those tight trousers you’ve thirsted to have off are no longer a problem.

It’s much more satisfying when you see the drapes match the curtains.

“Good, now…–!” His sentence breaks, and he hisses when your fingers suddenly wrap around him. 

You feel a different ridge and vein of his thick girth for every second that passes before gallantly pumping it with your fist. The way your fingers were shy of connecting a ring around his shaft was enough to make you wet.

You didn’t have to think twice when you looked up at him, giving him pretty innocent eyes as you stroked his cock. Inside, you were absolutely reveling in the power. Your arms narrowed into your torso, giving Nanami the perfect view of your tits. You pulled your face right next to his member while you stroked it like such a tease to see if you could make him take things a step further. At this point, you can’t hide the creeping grin when Nanami’s stoic gaze starts to turn darker. He starts unbuttoning the rest of his loosened shirt.

“ Fuck , I love how you look right now,” Nanami says. “Put that gorgeous mouth to work.”

No second was needed to think; you instantly cut your attention on the growl that spilled off of his tongue when your lips kissed his cock. Maybe it would be better to get to the point, to take all of him in your mouth and show him what you’ve been daydreaming about, but something wants you to unravel him slowly. By the time each of his buttons undoes on his dress shirt, you get to see just how chiseled your professor is.

You travel your tongue up and down his shaft, teasing and tasting the sweet skin shy of his trimmed pubic hair. You gaze at the perfect cut of his V-line, then to all the rigid lines of each muscle exposed to you.

Your hands start to loosen the pants and boxers still around his hips as you lick him, making it pool down his ankles and shiny brown loafers. You return to his hips and trace graceful lines on his cream-colored skin. 

His skin catches you in a trace; every inch of his body is soft and supple, showing it’s cared for. When your fingers rub against it, you mistake it for a canvas picked from the finest clothes. The perfection doesn’t look real. 

Your face flushes when his finger strokes your cheek. He looks like he could melt from your eyes, slowly turning a more profound gaze once you take all of him in your mouth. 

You let your throat relax as, inch by inch, you swallow his cock down, looking at him the whole way. Nanami watches the whole thing, mouth agape, and face furrowed like he’s in agony . Like he was one step away from using your head as he liked and making a mess out of you, his favorite student who should learn more about obedience. The pace you hold is that of a snail, but you want to get accustomed to his length: it’ll help out both of you. 

Once his pubic hair tickles the tip of your nose, you feel like you’re running out of breath. The need to take all of him is a ticking time bomb. You squish your lips against the base in a flash, scrunching your nose to his pelvis before pulling away and starting back at the head. 

The second time, reaching his base was a lot easier, especially with a hot distraction watching you like you were the moon and stars. Tufts of hair now stuck to his forehead as he pants at you, eyes dilated and bothered to look at anything else. 

You continue to bob your head up and down on his pulsing dick, reaching a finger to tug at his balls lightly. Your mouth has fully painted his shaft in a layer of your own spit, brushing it down the base before replacing it with a new layer. The build-up of saliva gathered around your lips in a wet foam. 

His stoic gaze, which he held since the day you met him, crumbles. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he huffs in the air. By the minute, his pants grow rugged as his hand brushes back your hair. If he didn’t do that, your hair would’ve been in the way of the lock of your eyes.

When you tease the bottom of his head with the graze of your bottom teeth, he balls your loose hair in a fist. the force causes you to whimper out before plunging his dick in your mouth as fast as you could. Over and over again. 

“ Thaat’s it .”

His head throws back as his hips start to snap into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair forces you down on his cock, but the other presses against your cheek, caressing and tilting your head just right. He groans a little louder when he tilts your head up to rock against you, just to tilt your head back down when it gets overwhelming.

You could practically taste the pre-cum seeping into your mouth, your cheeks hollow out, making the pressure on Nanami’s cock tighten the fist on your hair. He couldn’t help but use that head. He rocks you with reckless abandon, tears rolling down your cheeks and no doubt make a writhing mess of you. You constrict your lips around him so much his entire body jolts. You want more than just pre-cum.

“Okay, okay.” 

He pulls you off once he’s on the edge of cumming down your throat. How can you tell? The bliss he had on his face slowly trickling earlier was now contorted, his once slicked back hair now starting to fall out of place, and his other hand that gripped the edge of his desk at the last minute showed you all you needed to know. He didn’t need to tell you the obvious anyway, you knew where he wants to cum.

Your mouth had saliva dripping down your chin, making a thick string connect you and the tip of his penis. Your eyes teared up enough to no doubt smear the mascara on your bottom lashes. Gasps of air replace the part of Nanami that graced every corner of your mouth. You looked up at him like you were oblivious to the mess he made out of you, practically fluttering your eyes at his almost naked body.

“You look beautiful like that.”

Nanami helps you up before enveloping you in his body, arm around your waist, and crooning your head to sop up the spit that dribbled down your neck. The sensation of his tongue and grip on your body made it feel on fire. His lips to your ear had the perfect timing.

“You want me to treat your pretty pussy the same way as your slutty mouth?”

“Please.”

Nanami immediately kisses you while helping you out of your clothing. Things needed to change if he was the only one naked.

He’s insatiable when he sees your naked body, taking in every exposed surface of skin that he can. In one swift motion, he moves closer to you before leaning down, hoisting you in the air by your ass, with large hands gripping the supple skin before placing you on his desk. You’re left in disarray as he wastes no time nipping at your skin. His hands are on you, caressing you as one holds your face close. His teeth brush up and down the surface of your shoulders. 

Your hands impatiently reach for the hand lovingly stroking your face, lowering it down your torso near your aching apex.

“Touch me.”

Your legs spread to show him a view of your lips, the ones his hand is being led to. You study his face as he gets achingly closer to your core, watching the enchantment in his eyes over that stoicism.

A heavy exhale escapes you when his fingers brush over your labia, his fingers drawing  along the puffy skin. Even with his slight touch, a small whine escapes you as you shiver under his touch. 

He spreads your folds with two fingers and sighs, no doubt seeing the effect he’s had on you. Your arousal pools out from the source, one he uses to gloss his fingers. He presses his digits against you and coats himself so expertly before pausing. It causes your legs to squirm with anticipation.

“I don’t think it will fit.” He exhales a harbored breath and holds up his fingers, spitting on them as pseudo-lubricant. “Let me teach you how to fix that.”

He leans over you, spit softly dribbling down his knuckles as his other hand cages you to him.

Your arms buckle against the desk to steady yourself as you lean back, giving Nanami the perfect spot over you. He positions himself between your legs, arm lowering down to your apex by slowly dragging the back of his hand down your body.

Nanami watches your body as his finger pushes in. No, push is an overstatement. His finger easily glides into you, breaking the barrier easily due to your dripping arousal. Your eyebrows lift and knit together as your body reacts to him. His eyes stay on you, stoic yet interested in your movement.

“You sound good like this.”

He’s a knuckle-deep by the time you start to pant, fists tightened against the desk. Your back arches to showcase your pretty tits to him, and you feel your legs spread more with each inch he pushes into you. 

“And you get worked up so fast.”

Never has a man been so intent, so clear with his actions, enough to make yourself so turned on from so little done to your body. His words make you wetter and your pussy pulse in a way that doesn’t feel possible.

You feel euphoric when he starts pumping. At first you tried not to show it, but his expertise was clear, watching your reaction to each movement. Heavy, piercing eyes look at you, searching for a reason why you’ve come undone faster than he thought.

You let out weighted breaths, coming out of you like a thick smoke. You try to quell the flames, to lower the tone of your pleasure, but Nanami dares to make you even hotter, even louder with fingers that pump faster into you.. 

He’s in a daze, looking at your pussy as his fingers go in and out, scissoring, curling, plunging inside you. You try to swallow down your moans as you clench onto digits.

“Slow down.” You manage to say.

He pulls back immediately.

“Why, too much?”

“No, I just, I don’t feel like I should be this loud over just…”

“I can fix that.”

His head impatiently presses to yours.

He lingers his tongue against your lips, leaving your mouth breathless before he’s even kissed you. Your hand leads him back when you see his plan; to muffle you under his touch. 

You feel him insert another finger into you.

What is this, the second? Third? His finger stretched you out so much you can’t determine it, but you know you need it in order to fit him. 

His fingers gently scissor you open, helping your body adapt to the changes. He uses his other hand to stroke your leg when it starts to shake, and he looks at your face, watching for any semblance of pain along the way.

“Are you doing okay?” He whispers.

“I can definitely take more.” You said, coming off as more cocky than you intended.

“I see.”

He leans down to the floor, making you spread your legs in anticipation for him licking you up, that would make sense right?

“Give me your hands.” 

Did you think he needs your hands for this? No. You hold them out for him regardless.

You don’t think you could fully register how fast he grabbed your wrists as you see his tie flash past and quickly tighten around the skin. 

“Who knew English class could get you so riled up?” You giggle in response before being shut up by Nanami’s lips on yours.

Your tongues dance together when you hear the familiar crinkle of a wrapper, before peaking your eyes open to see Nanami sliding the condom down his member. He doesn’t falter once.

Your hands feel higher when he breaks the kiss, Nanami forcing them up and out of the way in order to get close to you. It only takes a second to reconnect lips again, both of you so hungry this time, knowing what’s to come.

With nimble hands you pull Nanami closer, letting his hands lower to your hips, gripping himself close to your soaked pussy. With a whisper of consent, his cockhead eases into you.

Pushing in, both of you release a sigh of relief as you feel yourself being stretched out more than earlier. You whimper against his skin, thankful he worked on loosening you up beforehand, but still living the very real consequences of his thick girth. 

Your hands squirm in the air, desperately wanting to wrap around your professor, but a stagnant hand holds them in the air, denying you the ability to move them any farther than digging your nails into his wrist.

You stifle your moans into heavy breaths when his length fully sinks into you, but the task seems impossible when he starts moving his hips.

you 

He was only a few thrusts in before you both heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, Mr. Nanami. You okay in there? I’ll be leaving soon, but I wanted to check in.”

You squeak, realizing who is talking on the other side of the door. It was the dean of the college, one that is a door away from sending you to expulsion. You tense up, something that Nanami definitely notices.

“Dammit,” Nanami mutters, hips stuttering when you unconsciously squeeze around him. For him it feels pleasurable. For you it feels downright heavenly, wasting no time to gasp.

Immediately, hands clasp onto your mouth, muffling a surprised gasp when Nanami thrusts deeper into you. 

“Try to be quiet.” He whispers, immediately raising his voice. “Thanks, Ichiji, sir, but I’m good. I just found a student who needs some help. I’ll lock up myself… shit.” Nanami could barely squeeze out an excuse before grunting. You squeezed your pussy around his dick, clamping down on him just right. Does he know if it’s purposeful? At first it wasn’t, but seeing he has his hand clamp around you, it’s free game.

“You sure you’re alright? I heard some concerning noises,” the principal trails off. 

You hear the door handle shift, yet the door doesn’t open. 

“Apologies, the handle must be jammed again.” Nanami says. “I’ll get going in a few.”

There’s a pause, one you don’t divulge in, as Nanami gets his payback by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, making you shiver into his grasp. You hear the faintness of the voice once again.

“Well, try not to overwork yourself again. I’ll be leaving.”

You pry his fingers off your mouth after hearing footsteps echo down the hallway. You almost hear what sounds like a sound of relief coming from your professor.

“Please, that door has never jammed,” You blink. “Wait, did you lock it earlier?”

“Can’t help it. It seems I can’t control myself around you.”

He doesn’t explain further, rather showing you the extent of his swagger.

He leans into your neck, nibbling on the flesh before sucking on one of your nipples, passionately licking, biting, and kissing the bud until your pussy clamps back down on him.

He hollowed his core, rounded his back, and clapped into you more. His eyes watch you flutter under him as your legs wrap around him.

The slaps of his balls thumping against your pussy with each jack of his hips is loud, raunchy, and undomesticated. Your voice breaks into a heavenly sound without resistance now, and Nanami doesn’t move to stop it. When there’s a semblance of silence in your moans, you manage to choke out, “What happened to shutting me up?”

“My superior isn’t here anymore. I couldn’t give a damn about what anyone else hears.” 

Nanami spreads your legs, thrusting in you so forcefully your mouth opens in another silent scream, your eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Want a challenge? Scream so loud like it’s the last thing I’ll ever hear.”

He drank that shit up—you knew—so much that you could see his eyes practically fuck you harder than his body. Just when you think he’s reached his capacity to pleasure you harder, he reaches for your shoulder, letting his grip slam you into his thrusts. The way his cockhead starts pounding againt your cervix sends a full body current of otherworldly heat into you, making your head kick back and body shake. If it wasn’t for your professor's firm hands on you, your body would have flown off the damn desk. No, all the energy of each thrust is concentrated entirely inside of you, promoting a mirase of raunchy moans that have never bellowed from your body. 

Your crescendo of pleasure hit its peak soon enough, rupturing a loud moan from your throat. Your feet wrap around behind him, encasing his whole length inside you as you cum on him. You stop Nanami’s hard hammering of hips, causing his cock to twitch amidst your orgasm.

You're twitching on his desk, genuinely so tweaked and cock drunk you don’t need to move. Your mouth is open and covered in your dried spittle, along with your face and eye makeup undoubtedly smeared. You’re gasping for air just as much as Nanami is. You don’t have it in you to do anything else; you're not coherent enough for that.

Nanami holds out his hand.

“Here.”

He helps you down with gentle hands. The softness of his grip when his hands fall to your waist swells your heart and makes you blush. 

Your mind doesn’t have a chance to think before you feel something heavy drape around your shoulders. Nanami covers you with his suit jacket, one that’s surpringly weighted, yet durable.

He turns you around, and you feel his figure kneel behind you before untieing your restraints. He doesn’t stumble in undoing the knots, freeing your wrists promptly. 

“Hold still.”

You feel his hand pressing against your inner thigh, telling you to spread your feet. You do so, and feel a cloth in between your legs, cleaning you up in soft strokes. You let him clean you, keeping your body still.

When he gets up, he paces back to his desk, placing his now sodden handkerchief to the side. You hold the suit jacket from the sides, preventing it from sliding off.

“You planned all those measures? Kinda odd you would have condoms in the classroom.”

He shrugs.

“I can’t imagine having a kid with someone about a decade my junior.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were asking about; you brushed it off regardless. What did annoy you was his hint of snideness in the remark.

You lean against the desk with an annoyed grimace. “Remind me to poke a hole in it next time.”

Nanami furrows his brows at your remark. 

“You will do no such thing,” he says in a flat tone. That lack of depth in his voice doesn’t mean you don’t catch a hint of playfulness in his face.

“Does that mean there will be a next time?”

“Come to my class more, and then we can talk.”

“Deal.”

[owlgirl495]

ok, so i know i rarely actually post my own words on here but with the last 911 episode i’ve been wanting to say something.

i’ve been reading a lot of what people have written (and i’ve added my own thoughts in the tags of many posts) but now that i’ve had time to process a little, see what others are saying, and talk to my irl friends about it a little, there’s one thing that i’ve only seen mentioned like once and i wanna talk about some more. more people have probably mentioned this and i just probably haven’t seen it and these thoughts are subject to change and all that but here we go:

it makes me really upset how little of buck and tommy’s relationship we actually got to see. and i know that they can’t focus on a side plot like that for a super long time and that it’s not the bucktommy show but i was actually okay with only getting scraps until the breakup and here’s kind of why.

they’ve been dating for six months. SIX MONTHS. and they seem to know NOTHING about each other. and i truly didn’t get this vibe until the last episode (8x06) and i think that’s why it feels so off for me.

at the end of season 7 they looked like they were really trying to get to know each other both on and off screen, they were talking about important things with each other, and actually trying to have real conversations. and then in season 8 there’s just none of that.

i didn’t think anything of it at first because i figured they just had those conversations off-screen in the FOUR MONTHS we didn’t see. but with 8x06 it truly feels like they didn’t have a single real conversation that we hadn’t seen.

8x06 shows us that they don’t know about each others’ exs at all, buck doesn’t know how tommy views his sexuality, tommy doesn’t know that buck hates basketball, so what exactly have they been talking about outside of the silly goofyness of 911 subplots for six months??

tbh i understand having them break up (i really wanted them to be endgame but i understand if that was never actually the plan) but the way they broke up felt so wrong.

i would’ve even understood if the real reason they had broken up was because after six months they realized that they don’t actually know anything about each other but even so, until 8x06, that was never indicated. they had a couple serious conversations with each other in season 7 and since there were no hints either way, i had assumed those had continued off-screen.

to have a well-liked couple with a decent amount of screen time break up without showing us pretty much any of the actual downfall of the relationship, giving what felt like a shoehorned in reason for the breakup, and only giving us last minute hints at the possible actual reason for the relationship ending feels shitty, if i’m being real.

i know it’s just a fictional show and it’s not that serious but this really hurt. i hate how much i let this get to me but i really let this show get my hopes up. it was my main form of escapism and something that consistently made me happy outside of things in my everyday life that have been stressing me out. i thought i could sink a little further into it after the results of the election but now it’s no longer the same form of comfort for me.

i’ll probably still continue watching the show and i absolutely adore all the people i’ve gotten to interact with (even in my really small way of interacting) through this fandom but 911 does feel a little tainted for me at the moment.

i’m probably missing some stuff here and a lot of this is just rambling but that’s it for now, i hope you are all doing okay and hanging on to whatever you can to make this a little easier <3

[darkintrinsic]

Devil's Night | Bad Omens

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

One day I woke up and wanted to be chased to the sound of Milagre.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X Female!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. It's devil's night and you've been invited to play. If you don't get caught by them, you win..

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). Foul language, alcohol consumption, masked men, stalking, reverse harem, why choose, taking turns, explicit sex, fear games, submission.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Devil’s Night.

The first time she heard those words, thought it was just another excuse for parties and excess, but here, in Detroit, it’s different. People speak of this night as if it were a tradition, passed down from generation to generation, almost like a silent pact that no one dares to question.

Yes, it’s Halloween Eve, but it carries a taste of danger that goes beyond costumes and carved pumpkins. It’s not about trick-or-treating; it’s more like… a rite of passage, where each person lets their dark side surface, testing their own limits and those of others. And the entire city, somehow, agrees to turn a blind eye to what happens in the shadows.

In the alleys and empty hallways, you can feel something waiting, hidden between the walls and beneath the fog that stubbornly refuses to lift. The seniors, of course, love it. They create challenges, make absurd promises to the freshmen, as if they’re initiating them into some ancient secret. But it’s not a secret; it’s more like a warning.

I don’t know exactly who started it—maybe some group many years ago, looking for a way to release their frustrations, or perhaps the city already came with this curse built in. But, either way, everyone participates, whether in the role of the observers or those who get lost in the night.

You were about to leave home, dressed up for another Devil’s Night in Detroit. Your friends had invited you over to drink a little before heading to the Lions' party, the fraternity responsible for the highest concentration of players that night. At first, you were ready to turn down the invitation, wanting to go straight to the celebration and get it over with once and for all, but seeing the flyer advertising the Geordin’s pub attraction made you change your mind.

Bad Omens was the main act in an intimate show, and you felt a bit excited to know they were back in town. It had been a while since you last saw them—if you weren’t mistaken, on the last Devil’s Night.

"Don’t tell me you’re not even a little excited to see him again…" Ash nudged your ribs with a playful voice, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"They’ve grown so much since the last time I saw them, Ash. They definitely have no idea who I am."

"And what if I told you that’s not exactly true?" Ashley’s glittering eyes blinked behind her long lashes as if she had some valuable information. She rested her hands and phone under her chin while watching you finish getting ready in the mirror. "I messaged Steve; we chat sometimes, and when he told me he’d be in town, I didn’t fail to mention your name…"

"I can’t believe you did that!"

"I scored us four VIPs tonight thanks to my shamelessness. No need to thank me, babe!" Ash winked and blew a kiss at her own shoulder, ignoring when you rolled your eyes at her boldness.

You didn’t want to admit it, but a strange sensation was building up in your stomach, making you feel cold with every step you took out the door. According to your friends, you looked good enough to draw a crowd to your feet, and deep down, you hoped they were right.

Geordin’s was, as always, sweltering, packed, and filled with people dressed up in Halloween costumes. You were just in a short black dress and heavy makeup—this date was special, a night for vixens to leave their homes in their smallest outfits, best heels, and bold eyes to be, for one night, what they longed to be all year.

At the bar, you grabbed a drink and walked with your friends to the VIP area near the stage. With each minute closer to the performance, your stomach grew colder, while your friends chatted excitedly beside you, never quieting for a moment. It had been a long time since you last saw him, and you tried your best not to expect him to remember any fragment of the past Devil’s Night.

“Welcome to the show of bad omens, my friends,” said the recorded voice from the speakers, making the crowd go wild.

The lights went out, and your body froze in place as the intro to the first song began. His voice was still unmistakable and unique, pleasing to the ear, even live, weaving together with the guitar and drum solos as if they were one.

When you turned to the stage, Noah was gripping the microphone with his eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to take in the melody, singing along with all your heart as you remembered why this was your favorite band. At the end of the third song, he glanced over the crowd as if looking for something, seeming about to give up, until his eyes finally landed on you.

A jolt of electricity surged from your legs, coursing through your entire body. Noah gave a brief smile and bowed his head, waiting for the next song’s intro. You knew the setlist, and this wasn’t one of the songs played at previous shows. In fact, you recognized it instantly; it was your favorite track.

Careful What You Wish For hadn’t been played in recent shows, but he knew how much that song meant to you, and he’d included it in Detroit just to show that he did, indeed, remember you. Something damp threatened to pool in your tear ducts; this song reminded you of moments you’d rather forget, moments the band had made more bearable to face.

As the final song ended, the lights went out, and the guys left the stage to the applause of the crowd. Your heart was still racing from the mix of emotions caused not only by the show, but by the series of subtle glances he had thrown your way during the pauses between songs. You bit your lip gently, gripping your glass a bit tighter, wondering if it could be a sign.

But you quickly brushed off that foolish thought and shook your head, dismissing it.

You and your friends finally arrived at the fraternity party, and all of you, including yourself, were buzzing with excitement to start the real celebration. Everyone was in costume, music was blasting, the smell of marijuana filled the air, and alcohol was flowing freely.

It seemed like the perfect night.

“I wouldn’t recommend drinking too much,” Ash warned, pointing at your glass as you sipped the colorful drink through a straw. “The games start in a few minutes, and you won’t want to be throwing up during the hunt.”

You laughed, remembering what happened last year when you mixed a few drinks with cheesy snacks, resulting in a puddle of vomit that took you home before you even considered playing the traditional hunt.

Every year on Devil’s Night, the Lions held a hunt in the Shadow Woods. The game involved all the guests being released into the forest, blindly searching to capture as many targets as they could until they reached the other side. With no flashlights or any source of light, identifying anyone became nearly impossible as everyone wore masks to hide their faces.

A certain chill lingered in your stomach, and a tremor in your legs threatened to shake your confidence, but you preferred to think it was because of the drink, not the fear of who your potential hunter might be. Your mind raced through quick strategies to avoid being caught, though not knowing the Shadow Woods at night made it all the more difficult.

With your feet firm on the earthy ground, you were as ready as the other competitors. You looked around, feeling adrenaline pulse through your veins, filling your brain like a song made to build tension until reaching its peak. You felt ready for whatever the night had to offer.

The whistle blew.

Your legs pushed you forward, running as fast as you could, straining your vision to dodge trees and jump over branches. You listened closely to the sound of dry leaves and twigs that snapped underfoot as the predators ran. All of them were desperate, hungry in their hunt for prey. At the same time, it felt frightening; it was exhilarating enough to make you push for more speed.

Energized, you glanced over your shoulder now and then, trying to detect any approaching threat, but as you pressed on, you heard fewer footsteps. Breathless, you slowed down and marked the trees with your fingers as you continued to walk carefully.

Your steps froze in place when you suddenly heard heavy breathing. The footsteps behind you moved over the dry leaves, signaling that your hunter was approaching stealthily, like a snake. Slowly, you realized your feet didn’t obey the commands in your head—they wanted to keep running, but your body remained there, unmoving.

He knew there was no point in running. He knew you were lost. He knew you didn’t want to go anywhere.

“Good girl.” His voice whispered close to your ear, making you jump in shock. “You didn’t let anyone else catch you. You waited for us like a good girl.”

“She knew that no matter where she hid tonight, we’d find her.”

“We always find you…”

Through your peripheral vision, you counted all four of them, gathered in balaclavas, closing off any way out. Swallowing dryly, you felt your breathing falter as they each took a step closer, forming a claustrophobic barrier around you.

“Now you’re ours.” Noah’s voice echoed in your ear as you felt the fabric of his balaclava graze your cheek. “Once you lose the game, you become our prize.”

A brief jolt made you sit upright when you felt something wrapping around your wrists; he was tying your hands together with a rope. The remaining length of material was used to fasten another knot around your neck, this time slightly tighter.

In your mind, there was no room for doubt, because you remembered the main rule of Devil’s Night. You were free to make your desires real for one night.

Why not surrender to them?

Slowly, Noah pulled you along the length of the leash, and stumbling a little in your own steps, you followed him. He exuded a scent of sweat mixed with Savage cologne; his arms were exposed by the black tank top, and he wore cargo pants and boots. Each determined step he took made you tense up, fearing what was to come, and the walls in the form of men surrounding you added to your apprehension.

Your steps halted when the tall man pulling your collar from the front froze in place. The forest offered little light, and thanks to the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the trees, you could see the intricate tattoo designs on his back, partly covered by his tank top.

A breath, subtle but present, brushed your ears with warm breath from behind.

"How about a game?" Folio’s voice was so soft it seemed to dance at a unique frequency. "We’ll ask a question, and for each wrong answer, you lose a piece of clothing."

"A game is only interesting to me if both parties are involved. In that case, what do I get if I’m right?" You dared to respond, challenging him with a side glance.

"Don’t act as if you don’t like the idea of not being in control for a few hours…" Folio taunted, stepping closer with a deadly step. His body was too close this time. "All you desire is for the reins to be in someone else's hands, just for one night, someone who knows your dirty mind well enough so you don’t have to spell out what you need. Am I wrong?"

You weren’t afraid of anything and made a point to shake your head in defiance.

"Wrong answer."

"Not at all!" you contested without much conviction. Deep down, defying him and contradicting yourself with feigned reluctance was part of your game.

The cold wind touched your back just as one of their fingers slid the zipper of your dress down, exposing your bare skin. Slowly, you felt the fabric glide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever it passed.

You shrank a little, feeling a hint of discomfort when you noticed several pairs of eyes observing your exposed form, but a tug on the leash immediately made you lift your chin.

"Don’t you dare lower your head, darling" another voice murmured as a finger traced along your chin, the wetness of a tongue brushing against the skin of your ear. "Not when you have a body like this. We can savor you without even touching. Consider yourself a goddess, displayed for adoration and worship."

Gently, he slid his hand from your chin to reach your cold-stiffened nipples, slow circular movements warming your thighs as Jolly’s voice stimulated you, his hands exploring your body without any rush.

They wanted you to surrender.

Indeed, you were already theirs.

For just one night, you belonged to them.

In front of you, Noah watched you with a tilted head, as if watching an intimate moment of pleasure was amusing to him. He wrapped the excess of the leash around his hands until it tightened, lifting your neck up toward him.

In one last visceral glance, Noah pressed his lips against yours.

A fierce kiss, charged with desire pent up since the last visit, filling every corner of your mouth, leaving you wanting for absolutely nothing. Between breaths, you let out a contained, low moan as those hands moved from your chest down to your hips.

His fingers, when they found your entrance, sent a current of electricity through the rest of your body. Jolly was warm and soft as a rose petal, he tortured you with the slowness of his synchronized movements on your clitoris and during the kiss you held Noah's lips between your teeth gasping a heavy moan.

Noah smiled, feeling how his body twitched in his friend's hands, he released his lips and dragged them down his face, allowing his moan to reverberate through his ears more clearly.

Just when you were about to give signs that you were going to collapse under Jolly's fingers they suddenly stopped. You panted and wanted to show that you were disappointed, but you didn't have time, Noah pulled you by the collar and turned you so that you were facing away from him. A quick scream escaped your lips at the surprise of the impact of your hips against his, you felt his bulge harden and let out some air through your nose.

A soft hand ran its thumb over her face, a caress similar to the one she felt on her ass as Noah explored her. At the same time they used their thumbs, Noah lifted your dress until you were completely exposed to prepare you, he dipped his fingers in your wetness and seemed to delight in it. Their eyes were fixed on the man before them, gently brushing strands of hair away from his face and lifting his chin.

“Good girl, good girl.” he whispered, sliding his thumb into your mouth, without breaking eye contact, you sucked his finger slowly until you reached the tip.

You watched as Folio grunted and finished sliding his cock into his free hand and bringing it closer to your face, passing it across your lips slowly. You moaned from containing the desire to take him in at once, and from having Noah playing with his head at your entrance in rotating movements. Little by little you relaxed and used your tongue to greet him and a smile formed on your lips when you saw him sigh once again.

Folio grabbed your hair with a little force and demonstrating that the provocation had made him lose his mind, he shoved his dick into your mouth at the same time as Noah entered you. Your screams were silenced by Folio's cock, you used your tongue to drool all over the compliment and without the help of your hands that were trapped you covered his head with the roof of your mouth. As you sucked him, you felt Noah bump his hips against yours in strong thrusts, pulling the collar from your neck each time he penetrated and stopped with his rigid member inside you.

Your legs shook from the force he used, you pressed him against the walls of your pussy and heard him mutter yet another curse due to the lack of space. Her head didn't stop for a single second, going down and up, sucking Folio's cock while he helped her with his hand in her hair.

With each of Noah's thrusts, you felt Folio's cock tear into your throat and you dedicated yourself to not leaving a single space without the contact of your tongue. He pressed your head down more and you enjoyed the taste of the skin trying to contain the entire volume. Noah grew harder and harder inside you and in an explosion of sensations for a few seconds your legs seemed to float.

This was the effect of the devil’s night.

It allowed you to fulfill even your darkest fantasy.

For one night.

[who-is-page]

Wag Those Tail Feathers: The Wonders of Alterhuman Courtship

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,065 Summary: Page's perspective on alterhuman courtship, as an individual who has been both on the receiving and giving ends of it.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

As a polyamorous alterhuman, I’ve had the wonderful experience of being in relationships with people who have a variety of different courtship instincts— sometimes even all at the same time! Including my own instincts, it’s led up to some interesting realizations about the variety and diversity of expressions of love, and how wonderful it can be to be loved by an alterhuman (and to be an alterhuman in love, too).

My personal experiences, notably, revolve specifically around being nonhuman and this applies to a majority of my partners as well, which influences the flavor of this discussion. It’s been a wonder to be the target of a feathery mating dance, to be wooed with draconic jewelry and treasures, or to have my partner jump out with a meal, as proud as could be at displaying their hunting skills for a mate. It’s not necessarily just a nonhuman thing, either, of course; my orthohuman partner exhibits some similar sort of feelings and actions, too! Something which comes across especially strong in his hunt-and-gather supply-hoarding behavior in video games. But there’s something so especially intimate about having your alterhuman partner court you in a way unique to their species identity. It’s a beyond flattering form of trust, love, and affection.

And as an alterhuman who has targeted my partners, alterhuman and orthohuman alike, with my own affections, it’s also uniquely affirming to have your partners engage with your varieties of courtship for your species. There’s something incredibly special to have them try to learn your rituals and woo you in turn, even if they don’t have the same instincts driving them. It’s love with intention, a conscious effort to learn a language that’s typically foreign to them or which they might otherwise never come across on such a personal level. It may not always be perfectly executed, but the intentions behind them make them perfect regardless.

I’m someone who’s fully public about my alterhumanity. I don’t hide that I’m a dog and (luckily) no one especially seems to care in the day-to-day when I’m meeting up with strangers and acquantinces. But it’s become an important part of my dating life that potential partners need to not only be aware of my alterhumanity and accept it, but they also need to interact with it. You could argue that my spouse set the bar high for any potential future partners with how he took to my canine-ness and plurality like a fish to water, but I’m of the opinion that it’s something that should be the norm, not something so utterly unexpected by many.

Being able to engage in alterhuman courtship with your partner, as serious or as silly as it may fundamentally end up being, shouldn’t be something that you feel is utterly unreachable, that you yearn for but never feel like you’ll be able to reach. Alterhuman courtship is a wonderous experience; something that I think it’s not only important for alterhuman folks to be able to freely do with those they love most, but also to be on the receiving end of, too. It can be easy to default to the status quo in relationships, because of the societal pressure around us. Normativity around romance, sex, and even platonic affections is something that is constantly at play in the backgrounds of our culture and which embeds itself into our conciousnesses in unexpected and often invisible ways; and it’s difficult to dissect these without exposing ourselves to what some might list as “weird” or “unusual” urges and behaviors. But we can’t unpack the shame or embarrassment that might be holding us back from engaging with these urges unless we actually let ourselves acknowledge the collective, confusing feelings abound within them. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to shrug our shoulders and simply say, “I suppose I’ll never find someone who can accept me as my [species] and all that entails,” or to just resign ourselves to having to hide a part of ourselves away forever to maintain relationships.

We should toss these types of negative feelings aside and embrace our alterhuman courtship urges in earnest: that sometimes we’re not fully human, or we’re human a little to the right, and that inevitably makes romance, sex, and platonic interactions a little different for us than it might look for standard folks as displayed on a big screen. It’s not a failure on our part, and it’s not something that needs to be squirreled away due to internalized respectability politics. We can love ourselves and find love in others, for and by being ourselves. We can experience unique forms of love and adore those factors in others. This is, to me, a part of the territory that comes with being alterhuman or knowing alterhumans. It’s a part of what makes life wonderous.

In my partnerships, I love getting to bring my partners gifts. I love to bring them tiny treasures, small things from my system’s hoard, to pebble at them almost like a penguin would (sometimes including a silly little dance, of love!) It goes beyond standard gift-giving in the way that most of the people I’ve met would think of it, where presents that large are often reserved for special occasions like holidays and birthday. But it’s something I do year-round, to show my partners that they’re always on my mind, and that what is mine is their’s, too. I do the same thing with food; while normally incredibly food protective, both due to species identity and past food insecurities, I make the effort to share my favorite foods with my partners for the same fundamental reasons. To share my food, my bed, my life— and to have my partners recognize that as not just general displays of love, but as specifically displays of love intertwined with what I am, is something which displays a deep level of understanding and acceptance for my species. It’s something I’m grateful for beyond words, but it’s also something that I don’t want us as a community to accept as unheard of, or as just a one-off, lucky occurrence. Love like this is achievable and rewarding, both as a recipient of such alterhuman affections and as the giver. And we all deserve to experience it, in whatever form of love that we feel most comfortable with. Don’t tell yourself otherwise; don’t settle for less just because you feel like you have no other choice.

[asharaks]

minrathous-treviso choice: part one

The choice to save either Minrathous or Treviso, knowing that the other will suffer without your intervention, is actually Great; it’s a strong, bold move that establishes a sense of urgency and the scale of the threat you’re facing, with lasting consequences both for the settings and the companions tied to them. That said. The vision for Minrathous vs Treviso is this: 

First of all there’s a warning before you take the quest that will trigger this plot on completion, telling you to go back and finish everything you want to before taking it because some quests and progression may be unavailable afterwards. Also, tying Davrin’s recruitment to this choice is a mistake — he’s the only Black companion in a game with a pretty racist player base, and a situation in which you Can’t recruit him until you’ve advanced significantly with three other companions disadvantages him further as a companion. Also, he’s a warrior, and the early game doesn’t have any warriors. So instead, Davrin is recruited early (you seek out a Warden as soon as you realise you’re dealing with Blight!), and given a few quests to clear up in the Wetlands, and Harding’s (re-)recruitment is moved back to trigger this scene — she’s an associate of yours who was out gathering information during the early portion of the game, and she’s run into trouble. As a fan favourite returning character, she comes into the game with goodwill that levels the playing field between her and the early game companions, and as a rogue she isn’t mechanically indispensable until her recruitment on higher difficulties since Lucanis is also recruited early. 

When you return with Harding, Lucanis’s and Neve’s calls for help in their hometowns play out as normal, but in deciding where you go, two things are emphasised: 1) you’re splitting up your team of six into equal teams. The choice is not to Only Save One, but to decide who goes where, and which team you place yourself on; and 2) you bear the responsibility for this choice and how it shakes out, moreso than Lucanis and Neve who each insist on protecting their homes, because in Varric’s absence (more on this later) you are the leader, and your team does what You say. The overwhelming nature of the choice is emphasised; there is no way to distribute resources such that everyone is perfectly covered. There’s just too much. 

The key to the choice is that both cities are complicated, often brutally hostile places marked deeply by inequality and oppressive rule, and both cities are the homes of millions of people. As a shadow dragon or a crow, do you have a responsibility to your home town; as the leader of the veilguard, is it fair to place that responsibility over your responsibility to protect All of Thedas against the blighted gods? Is it fair, as someone unattached to either place, to decide on the toss of a coin which millions will suffer and die? At this point, you’ve taken quests in both places, fighting slavers, cultists and magisters in Minrathous and navigating fractured crow rulership, unrest among fledgelings, and the encroachment of the Chantry in Treviso. The cities parallel each other and the problems facing other locations; complicated homes, where people lead complicated lives, towards which any rook can have complicated feelings. 

The quests themselves still each have their blighted dragon, which is still unbeatable here as it flies away at half damage, but they aren’t commanded by their gods — the gods are almost trailing in their wake, Elgar’nan in Minrathous and Ghilain’nan in Treviso. They can be seen here for the first time, enormous, awe-inspiring, and undeniably in blinding agony, infected all the way through with blight. you can’t interact with the gods at all, they don’t even register your presence. But once the dragon fight is over, your work isn’t done — there are longer, more involved quests to finish. In Minrathous the Venatori have staged a coup and the templars have been mobilised en masse to take them; if you don’t intervene, then the city will either fall to the venatori or to the draconian measures they give the magisterium plausible justification to enforce. You have to help Neve and the Dragons shepherd panicking civilians to safety within the Shadow Dragon sanctum (or make it a choice: do you send them to a less secure location and keep the Shadow Dragons secret? or do you guarantee their protection but make the Dragons vulnerable?), destroy Venatori, provide aid for Dorian and Mae in the inner city. In Treviso, the mass outbreak of Blight has pushed the Chantry and the Crows into open conflict, and the city is threatened by Blight and by violence if you don’t get it under control. You have to close locks in the drowned district to contain the Blight in the canals, while fighting back darkspawn and ghouls; help civilians to safety either in ambassadorial buildings, turning to the Qunari presence for help, or in the chantry, which is markedly easier but results in turmoil and distrust in Qunari presence down the line. You find the dagger obtained at the ritual site instrumental in warding off the Blighted dragons and their gods; this is why Rook’s presence is the deciding factor in the outcome for each city.

(next - minrathous-treviso choice part two)

(previous - minrathous)

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Okay so this idea is kind of meh but what about AU frat boy! Dick Grayson who everyone likes but with a reader who’s kind of wary of him like gets put off vibes and discovers to their horror he’s a serial killer? Like maybe catches him in the act? Could be romantic or platonic either or :)

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! GN reader, egregiously long post, paranoia, mind games, brief mention of suicides, death, blood, dead body, can be translated as romantic or platonic, idk what else needs to be warned.

Frat boy Dick Grayson AU, you will forever be famous in my heart. Why haven’t I written something like this before.

He’s got it all. The charm, the good looks, the surprisingly tasteful humor (considering he’s a part of a frat)… what’s not to like about him? He’s the number one campus heart-throb, with just about anyone throwing themselves at his feet.

Well, everyone except you.

Because there’s just something so off about him. For whatever reason, alarm bells go off in your head whenever he’s near. Some may call it paranoia, some may call it straight-up jealousy. But to you, it’s something much more; enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck when he decides to sit next to you in lectures.

At first, you thought it was due to the envious looks from other students. I mean, the Dick Grayson has decided to sit next to you of all people? That’s bound to start some nasty one-sided shit from people you don’t even know. But no… it’s not the whispers or glares. It’s him. The voice in the back of your head practically screams that it’s him. You just don’t know why.

Again, he’s got it all. Charm, good looks, humor. Maybe what’s so off-putting is that he’s just so friendly. Due to his outgoing personality, it’s no shock to see him hanging around someone new every day, and it’s to the point where you’re convinced he knows everyone on campus by name. Maybe you just need to understand the nature of a social butterfly more. Then he’ll stop being so off-putting. Right?

But, the more you interact with him, the less sure you are. It drives you crazy when he picks you as his lecture buddy because there’s just something so wrong. But what? Is it his casual questions about your hobbies? His friendly, gentle shoulder-grabs when he wants your attention? His relaxed demeanor around someone who should realistically be a total stranger to him, as neither of you share the shame lifestyles outside of classes?

No, you randomly realized one day; it’s none of that.

It’s the fact that his smile never reaches his eyes.

Dick Grayson has beautiful crystal blues; you’ll give him that much. They’re bewitching to look into, and you’ll find yourself captivated by his gaze even if you aren’t big on eye contact. But whoever came up with the saying, “the eyes are the window to the soul” clearly never met Dick Grayson. No matter how warm his smile may be, it’s impossible to know what he’s truly thinking with how guarded his stare is. A damn mystery, with no clues other than the slightest hint of a knowing twinkle every now and then.

You quickly decided that it’s creepy as hell. Why would a guy who acts like an open book have eyes so frosty? Has anyone else noticed this, or are they too busy being charmed by his honey words and pearly whites? Maybe it’s a part of his allure. People drool over the secretive ones, don’t they?

(Upon having that thought, you’d feel a shiver go up your spine. You can hear the echo of Dick Grayson’s voice saying, “you’re a secretive one, (Y/N). I’ll admit, it’s kinda cute” somewhere in your mind.)

(If you recall correctly, it was the day where you began to wonder where exactly he heard your name from.)

But you’ve begun to observe this anomaly named Dick Grayson. You’ve begun to pick up on how he carries himself around other people, and something became immediately apparent. Whatever the deal is with weird, closed-off look he has in his eyes… it’s situational. Strategic, even. While you have yet to pick up on the pattern, some conversations — or people, even — warrant shimmering eyes filled with mirth, while others get that plotting, calculating stare.

And, for whatever reason, everything about you seems to earn the latter.

(Like when you think he doesn’t notice you watching him. A seat ahead of you, he’ll carry on with the cheerleader just fine, his eyes sparkling with whatever emotion he desires. Then, when the conversation lulls, he’ll subtly crane his head behind him the slightest bit, icy eyes darting in your general direction.)

(You might be going crazy, but you swear he smirks a fraction of an inch when your gazes accidentally connect.)

So, yeah. Either you’re reading into things way too much, or this guy’s just not what he seems to be on the surface. And if this is really the game of cat and mouse you think it is, you’re pretty sure he knows you’re on to him. Because why else would he give you a peek behind the curtains of his true intentions? Okay, maybe that’s a little too far, as you’re not sure what his true intentions are, but still… something about how he interacts with you — which seems to be a lot, by the way — just has this subtle taunting undertone to everything. Like he knows you know something and no one will believe you.

God, if only you actually knew what he knows you know. It would make this game of mental fuckery much more palatable.

Something is so off about Dick Grayson. You’re not sure if anyone else feels the same way, but it’s just… true. That jolt of fight or flight you get when he’s looking at you has been there since day one, and it will probably continue to be there for as long as you’re in the same classes as him. And you know what doesn’t help? The strange disappearances happening around campus. Because of course there has to be some sort of side plot happening. It’s not just enough that you have this weirdo friendly frat guy wanting to get all-chummy with everyone. Nope; students and faculty alike seem to be dropping like flies, some of them even found dead after an accident or an unfortunately successful suicide attempt.

So, maybe you consume too much true crime content. Maybe people are right about that shit fucking up your mentality, and now you’re just a paranoid loser who thinks everyone is out to get them. But… I mean… a charismatic guy who’s enchanted pretty much everyone within a ten-mile radius? Come on. Where have you heard that one before. The signs are right there. Why are you the only fucking person seeing them?! Why is no one else suspicious of this weirdo who’s obviously up to something?! Why is no one calling him out on this behavior?!

… Because it’s all in your head. Because you’ve officially lost it, and the only weirdo here is you. Because when a girl started having an allergic reaction, the one who was able to control the situation and save her life was none other than Dick Grayson. Because his tone was so serious, his eyes were so focused, and his hands were so gentle yet methodical as he administered her epipen. Because he went through breathing exercises with her to calm her down, and asked with a genuinely worried expression how she was feeling.

Because Dick Grayson is a nice person who wanted to walk her back to her dorm, and all you are is a judgmental creep who comes up with batshit crazy conspiracies when someone looks at them weird.

Maybe nothing is wrong with him. If there was, why would he look so sincere during that whole thing? Aren’t life or death situations the perfect way to pick up on people’s true natures? Being right there, all you saw was a a natural-born leaver commanding the room, eyes ablaze with conviction as he ordered you to hand that girl’s back to him so he can dig for the epi. Sure, he might get a strange look in his eyes every now and then, but does that really matter in the grand scheme of things? As long as he’s got his head on his shoulder when needed, a mischievous glance or two never hurt anyone.

That night, you walked back to your dorm feeling like a piece of shit. There was no plotting. There was no game of cat and mouse. The friendly frat boy was always just that; a friendly frat boy. So, now here you are, even going as far as to take the long way back from your 8 pm lecture in order to fully maximize this time to reflect. Maybe you should somehow apologize to him. While you didn’t outwardly do anything wrong, you’ve always had this slight distrusting attitude towards him, and it was about time you change it. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to take initiative and sit next to him. Start the conversation yourself, ask him some questions, just generally return the friendliness he’s always shown you.

That’s when the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your foot barely even flat on the beaten path before you. He was near. You knew he was near. That fight or flight instinct has basically been conditioned to sense his presence at this point, and now here it was, screaming at you that he’s near. Whatever thoughts you had to make amends with Dick Grayson were immediately thrown out in favor of that old, reliable fear.

He’s near, but you don’t see him.

No. You hear him.

He’s humming. Somewhere behind the tall, untamed shrubbery next to the path, friendly frat boy Dick Grayson is humming an unfamiliar tune, his soft voice smooth as a stone in a river. However, what would probably sound soothing to a normal person instead fills you with a sense of dread. What the hell is he doing out here?! Close to 10 in the fucking night, singing a little tune like some fucking creep?

Then, you noticed it. The sounds of something heavy scuffing against the dirt. Or, rather, dragging.

Behind the bushes and trees, Dick Grayson is dragging something. At 10 in the night.

What the actual fuck.

Curiosity is a dangerous thing. As much as you sure as hell wanted nothing to do with whatever he’s doing, a dark voice in your brain — which sounded a bit too close to Dick Grayson’s voice — urged you to look. Come on, just a peek. This bastard’s been playing mind games with you all semester, hasn’t he? Don’t you wanna know what his intentions are for sure? I mean, what kind of a frat boy hangs out in the bushes while he could be out partying on a Friday night?

Isn’t this just weird, (Y/N)?

Before you even knew it, your feet were moving on their own. Gentle steps. Avoid the twigs, avoid the leaves. Do not let him hear you. With a feather-light touch, your hand steadied itself against a nearby tree as you used it for cover.

A few long, quiet breaths. Just to calm your nerves.

Then, you slowly craned your head out from behind the tree.

There he was, slightly hunched over with his back facing you. He had a fist full of something, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was due to the night’s shadows. Dark, inky stains caked his sweater, and while the naïve part of your brain wanted to call it mud, the dread in your gut knew better. You craned your head out a bit further to get a better look at the scene.

A body. In front of Dick Grayson’s hunched over form was a body lying face down. His fist was clutching its hair, assumingely dragging it by the head from… wherever. The new angle also gave you the advantage of seeing Dick’s other hand, clutching what looked to be a hammer cover in… definitely not mud.

He was still humming. That bastard was still humming after doing whatever the fuck he did to that poor person. That person… Dick finally stood up straight, lifting the head with him by their hair… that girl. It was the same one who had the allergic reaction. Bloodied and with a dented forehead — god, you were going to be sick — but you knew it was her. She was limp in his grasp, swaying aimlessly as Dick rotated her a bit as though he was admiring his own handiwork.

He killed her.

Dick Grayson killed her.

You didn’t move. Christ, how could you after seeing something so horrific? The alarm bells in your head were much louder than your own heartbeat, screaming for you to run run run run runrunrunRUNRUNRUNRUN—

His head suddenly swiveled towards you.

No more humming as his gaze found yours.

The two of you were locked in a stalemate, staring at each other with such intensity. Those icy blue eyes held no readable emotion, not even a hint of surprise that you caught him in the act. No; he just stared at you, one hand holding a fist-full of hair and the other absently fiddling with his hammer.

A sly smirk slowly broke out on his face.

He knew you were watching the entire time, didn’t he?

Because he is a plotting piece of shit, isn’t he? This has always been a game of cat and mouse to him, and he knew you were on to him since the beginning. That friendly, charming exterior… the disappearances. Goddamnit, you were fucking right.

Something is so off about Dick Grayson.

And no one will believe you.

[ssruis]

Wrt the people talking about the new set as fan service: my initial reaction was also “oh cute” & moving on, but after carefully reading the full arguments of the people who found it distasteful, I agree with their points. I’d normally link or post screenshots of the points made, but since the Prsk fanbase apparently is jumping people over this on twt I don’t feel comfortable doing that. To summarize and add some of my own explanation:

> everything in gacha games is fan service, which doesn’t have to necessarily mean it’s sexual - ode for the pure of heart featuring rui/touya (popular with female audience) looking very princely was fan service. The white day knight/fantasy theming is fan service (popular & well loved aesthetic). Fantasia squad was fan service for the players who like the male characters, etc etc.

> I don’t feel like arguing about all of the cards, so I’ll just point out what bothers me about the most egregious example (Rin’s card)

When considering art, you have to consider the deliberate choices the artist made, and what messages they are trying to get across with the atmosphere they have created.

Why choose the maid aesthetic? Why make these cards a player pov? Why choose framing that (using the grid composition, contrast and lighting from the window, the way lines direct the eye) makes the points of interest and emphasis Rin’s face *and* butt? Why choose that pose, with Rin looking over her shoulder, with a surprised expression and prominent blush? Why is the posing reminiscent of art of vintage pin up girls (or any other similar art movement)?

It’s male gaze. The answer is male gaze.

The male gaze is often just associated with overt sexualization, but that’s an overly simplified definition. The male gaze can also be portraying women in positions of servitude (most often within the home), emphasizing body curves (even through clothes), voyeuristic povs, emphasizing cuteness/demure-ness/shyness, etc. It’s about the (assumed male) viewer having power over the female subject.

Rin is cleaning, the light from the window heavily highlights her butt, the framing of window itself specifically draws the eye from her head to her back to her butt using contrasting colors/light/point of interest, the parallel lines in the piece direct your eyes down her body (Japanese audience, reading image from right to left). If the emphasis was on the action she is doing, rather than her body, the light source and brightest colors would be on the other side of the image, the duster would be brighter, as would the objects/set pieces she’s interacting with.*

Sexualization/male gaze isn’t restricted to the very obvious “woman sexy posing in a bikini” image, and having that viewpoint will only serve to limit the ways you understand art and artist intention. It’s similar to taking “all art is political” to mean “all art is either republican or democrat” and responding “well that’s stupid and you’re stupid.” You’re missing the point.

I’m a little disappointed the knee jerk reaction here seems to be “you’re wrong and you’re actually a freak who sexualizes minors for pointing this out” here, especially because the point of calling this out is to say that it’s distasteful to do a card like this for a character who is, despite not having a canon age, pretty much portrayed as younger than the main cast (making her 15 or younger).

Nobody is saying “this set sucks you can’t like it if you like it you’re problematic and project sekai should be cancelled forever”, it’s just something to keep in mind. You don’t have to agree with the argument, but acting like anyone pointing this out is insane isn’t fair or justified.

> also just as a side note: maid cafés have a pretty long history of sexualization, with the emphasis/appeal of having power over the workers and them being your servant while dressed cute. I don’t entirely think this set was going for a maid café look, but I do think it’s something to be mindful of.

> *it’s a little hard to articulate/explain this, and my knowledge on how much the average person knows about stuff like this is skewed due to my own education in art/art history/design/etc. If you find this confusing, I’m willing to explain more in detail and specifically point out what I’m talking about.

> I have a different post on the taisho/daisho romance elements, which is an entirely different discussion, so I’m not bringing that up here.

[moonlit-midnight]

“Once upon a time, an ordinary young woman was mysteriously swept into Twisted Wonderland, and unwillingly gets tangled in peculiar events. But when she forms a genuine, lasting friendship with the people who waltzed into her new life, will she still wish to return home?”

A/N: Finally decided to post my Yuusona after three years of rotting in my drafts🤭. I’m thinking of writing my interactions with the characters for fun and to slowly get out of my writing slump.

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨:

Eye color: Hazel.

Hair color: Dark Brown (dyed Dark Red).

Other likes: Marine life, Road trips, Gardening, Shopping.

Other dislikes: Summertime, Superficial relationships, Overbearing people.

Favorite food: Mom’s food, East Asian sweets, Arabic cuisine.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Hannah is a curious introvert with a dear love for adventures. She appears aloof and intimidating, but she has a warm heart and is genuinely a friendly woman with a dorky side. Despite her gentle and calm demeanor, she can be snarky and deadly serious when you press the wrong button. 

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬:

(All are completely platonic).

★ Ace and Deuce share a sibling bond with her. She enjoys cooking for them, having movie marathons, and they occasionally invite her to unbirthday parties upon discovering her sweet tooth.

★ Ortho is her best friend and gaming buddy. Although they’re polar opposites, she gets along well with him due to the boy’s similarity to her closest cousin in real life.

★ Malleus is her other best friend and kindred spirit. They were awkward at first, but they eventually bonded over their love for their Tamagotchi, cold desserts and taking long walks at night.

★ Lilia is her adventure companion and partner in pranks. She considers him a soulmate because he’s the one whom she feels the most comfortable to be weird with. They might have an endearing relationship, but they’re enemies in the kitchen.

𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬:

Hannah is her middle name while Bloom is a fake surname.

She’s of Spanish, Japanese, Filipino, Chinese and Korean descent, born in Saudi Arabia.

Her job irl is an English teacher. She plans to be a librarian someday.

She’s multilingual, fluent in many Arabic dialects due to being educated in an Arabic school.

If she was sorted in one of the 7 dorms, she’d either be in Ignihyde or Diasomnia.

Her favorite places in NRC are: the library, botanical garden, Heartslabyul garden and Sam’s mystery shop.

Most students don’t take her seriously because of her baby face (which she considers a curse sometimes). The only ones who believe that she’s in her twenties are Professor Trein, Riddle, Leona, Jack, Jamil, Ortho and Malleus.

She struggles with anxiety, ADHD, Lupus and chronic fatigue, but she always tries her best to survive the day.

She’s not a morning person, but she wakes up early to admire the sunrise.

Her coping mechanisms are watching Asian dramas and maladaptive daydreaming. 

She values her alone time, but when you’re better than her solitude, she’ll warmly welcome you in her daily life.

★ — Credits:

Dividers by @.cafekitsune & @.bunnysrph

Picrew 1 | Chibi Picrew | Template by @.unfinished-projects-galore