#that would probably be seen as me not caring and being rude!

[bunnyywritings]

to be seen...

BAKUGOU KATSUKI X GN!READER

[a/n: i lowkey love the hc that bakugou is partially deaf/hard of hearing cause of his quirk like...it just makes so much sense to me ?? anyways i just wanted to get this one out of my system! it's not the best so...sorry but yeah...enjoy!! - bunny]

© bunnyywritings pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

wc: 1.6k words

warnings: none that i can think of...kinda angsty tbh, there's also more of a focus on bakugou than reader

This couldn’t be real. 

He’s not weak so…why? 

Why did this happen? 

Bakugou’s hands shook as these merciless thoughts ran through his head as Doctor’s poked and prodded at his ears. Their touch was bothersome but he supposed he was grateful he couldn’t really hear what they were discussing, any tangible noise was muddy and replaced by a ceaseless ringing. 

He had gone through all the motions. Denial being the most violent. He had screamed and cried in a clearing a ways away from the dorms where he had thought that no one would hear him but when he returned and immediately clocked your glossy eyes and trembling bottom lip, he realized how mistaken he was. 

Oh, you. Sweet, caring, you. 

He almost felt guilty for how much he had pushed you away. All you wanted to do was make sure he knew he wasn’t alone, make sure he felt loved and cared for but he mistook your empathy for pity and blew up at you. This time around it was much, much louder and much more terrifying because he couldn’t hear how loud and rude he was really being. 

He had scoffed when you clutched your fists to your side as big fat tears rolled down your cheeks. He couldn’t read lips very well but he didn’t need to when the word ‘mean’ had been formed so clearly by your lips before you ran off to your room. 

Now, he was just numb. Having accepted that this was his reality, Doctor’s poking and prodding and the uneasy sight of his mother so broken and…sad. Having to practically be held up by his father. 

This wasn’t right. She wasn’t weak. She was never weak but once again, he had mistaken her love and empathy for pity…for weakness. 

School had been on break for the spring and he was desperate to get back, he was being run through the wringer and as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted the mundane rhythm of his life back. He wanted to attend his classes again. Quirk training. English. Hero Law.

 He actually missed those idiots he calls friends. To sit with them in the cafeteria and hear about the stupid shojo that Denki was reading. Hear how Kiri can’t beat some boss level on the stupid game he was playing. Hear Mina complain about how her cuticles were as healthy as ever. Hear Jiro ramble on about a new band she found and how she thinks he’d actually like them. 

Hear…

Would he still be able to do any of that? 

He couldn’t quite remember what his condition was. The ringing was gone but all that's left is a muffled sea of jumbled up noises. He was getting better at reading lips and he was put through the master class of sign language in a week. His instructor was surprised but he knew that if you had been there, you would’ve given him a bashful smile and said, “I expected nothing less from our future top hero.” 

Ah, that’s right. 

Most of all, he missed you. 

Your smile. Your wit. Your eyes…the very same ones he made shine with tears. Your laugh…the sound he’d miss the most out of anything. 

Despite having left the way he did, you still texted him. He hadn’t responded but you still thought about him. 

“You’re doing an awful lot for a guy who told you to piss off…” Shoji eyed you carefully as you set up the classroom, helping you place workbooks on the desks and open the windows. 

“Yeah but you know as well as I do that Bakugou uses anger like a shield. He’s probably confused and in pain about all of this, it’s only fair that we help out as much as we can.” 

Your caring nature was worrying sometimes. Shoji had seen your heart shattered multiple times by people who brush you off or take advantage of your willingness to do hard work, he was worried that Bakugou didn’t deserve this kindness. 

He remembered holding you as you sobbed into his chest, it took everything in him to not run out to the common room and knock some sense into the blonde but ultimately, he decided that staying and comforting you was more important. 

And despite all that pain he caused you had gone straight to Principle Nezu and pleaded for the school’s help. Going as far as offering to do all the work in finding an instructor and getting all your classmates on board. Now, here you were setting up the classroom for the first day of sign language classes. 

The Friday before school started up again, Mitski got a call from the specialist they had been working with and with the influence of UA, Bakugou’s hearing aids were ready for him. She was ecstatic, enthusiastically waking her son and shouting at him to get ready. 

He was…startled to say the least. If he had been able to hear the yelp he had let out when he was shaken awake, he surely would’ve been a bright red. 

And so, with the promise of heading to a nice restaurant for breakfast before heading back home, Bakugou shoved himself into the backseat of the car and off they went. 

The school had covered two pairs and he almost scoffed at the design of the devices. The first pair’s earpiece was clear, swirled with red and orange and the part that hooks around the ear, an almost gaudy, bright red-orange. The second was just his hero costume earpieces with hearing aids attached. Both pairs were specially made to muffle his explosions while still being able to hear others clearly. They also had a bluetooth feature so he’d be able to listen to music comfortably.

The doctor and his parents looked on expectantly as Bakugou slipped them on for the first time, surprised by how comfortable they were. He switched them on with shaky hands and everyone waited in silence before he looked into his mother’s teary eyes. 

“Katsuki…honey? Can you hear me?” 

His eyes widened. Had her voice always been so tender?

 It brought tears to his eyes, he got up from the uncomfortable exam table, fists clenched at his sides. She looked up at him from her seat and her face crumbled. His eyebrows were pinched, a pitiful frown on his wobbling lips and tears slowly leaking from his eyes. 

“Oh, honey…” He threw himself into her embrace and cried into her neck like he had done many times when he was little. Masaru watched on in tearful wonder, remembering that this was still his son. His baby boy and he was hurting more than he let on. Shouldering an exhaustingly heavy burden on his shoulders all by himself. 

The image of his little boy, only 4 feet tall tearfully struggling to hold a boulder up above his head, arms and legs trembling with exhaustion and desperately calling out for his mommy and daddy shook him to his core. 

He wrapped his arms around both of them, his hand cradling the back of Bakugou’s head. “It’s okay, son. We’ve got you.” At the sound of his father’s steady and calming voice, the boy cried harder. “We’ve got you.” 

Standing in front of the dorms was more daunting than he thought it would be. Hiking up the steps was like attempting to trek Mt. Fuji. The only comfort being that he was expecting the common room to be empty. He expected everyone to be in their room attempting to settle back in after a week long break. 

He hated how wrong he’s been recently. 

When he opened the door, he was met with everyone cheering. It was all so loud and disorienting that, despite his hearing aids, he had no idea what the hell anyone had said. Then, you stepped through the crowd and suddenly everyone faded into the background. 

“Guys! I thought I said no shouting! It’s probably still too much for him!” 

“But you’re shouting right now…” Denki snickered, earning an unamused glare from you. 

His eyes filled with tears, heart constricting in his chest. Twisting and throbbing almost painfully. 

God, he missed you. 

“So scary when you look at me like that!” Denki shuddered playfully. 

You had opened your mouth to refute but were cut off by Bakugou suddenly roaring with laughter, squeaking the slightest bit as he hunched over, arms wrapped around his middle as he laughed. 

Shock ran through everybody’s spines, jaws on the floor. 

He wasn’t quite sure what came over him but it was an involuntary reaction. Maybe to camouflage the fact that he had a river of tears sliding down his chin. 

Once he had finished, he stood upright. Out of breath and wiping his eyes. Meeting your eyes once again made the butterflies in his stomach go berserk. They went downright psycho when your hands were held up in front of you, trembling as you carefully signed, ‘welcome home.’ 

He was silent once again. Absolutely dumbstruck. 

Midoriya watched on fondly, as did everyone, emotions overwhelming and tears filling their eyes. 

Bakugou was in complete disbelief. 

“When…” He breathed, hands coming up to sign the rest. ‘When did you learn that?’ 

It took you a second to register what he said before responding. ‘We learn over break…’ your signing was a little sloppy, he had missed a few things but caught on immediately at the end, ‘...love you. Want you feel normal as possible.’ 

He didn’t let you finish, grabbing you into his embrace and holding you tight. “Thank you.” He mumbled into your hair, you held on equally as tight. 

“You’re welcome.” Your voice so up close and intimate was a blessing. 

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki angst

[burningdisarm]

friends who hate together stay together

#rambling #look sometimes i need to be a hater & when that happens i know who to go to bc i know they won’t judge me and #have probably thought the exact same thing #this is not like. serious. this is like when i want to be jealous and overly proud & some other character flaws i have #in a way that won’t hurt anyone. so that they’re not character flaws they’re just quirks. i sometimes have to just be. annoyed #& i <333 having friends who i can whine to. & they do the same thing at other points so like. neither of us can judge #literally everyone has bad emotions and are sometimes petty and jealous and proud or whatever else #the key is dealing in a way that doesn’t hurt other people but also doesn’t hurt you #there is something SO healing about going to complain to a friend about something a bit petty that #would probably be seen as you being rude and judgy by most ppl(bc you are being that to be fair) #& them going YEAH I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING #it’s like rinsing your brain out. spring cleaning. i can carry on trying to be a caring person now that i’ve been allowed #to express frustration #idk i’m phrasing this really badly but just shoutout to my friend who i can be a massive hater with & then move on #“here’s a thing i’m feeling & i know it’s rude so i’m not gonna act on it but like come on….” “no exactly you get it” thank god #“i did this thing (inconsequential) but i told everyone else thing thing (tiny change) bc i’m too proud to admit it” #“no exactly like we both need to work on this but i understand exactly what you mean bc i’m the same” okay. now i can be human again

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks. 

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public. 

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it. 

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once. 

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend. 

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute. 

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best. 

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head? 

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume… 

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…” 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form. 

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form. 

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.” 

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.” 

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.” 

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.” 

“Not if it’s your name.” 

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?” 

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.” 

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?” 

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him. 

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.” 

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy. 

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening. 

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu. 

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin. 

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?” 

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.” 

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?” 

“Yes, but not this Earth.” 

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?” 

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.” 

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?” 

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.” 

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.  

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.” 

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.” 

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet. 

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?” 

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal. 

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…” 

“Eighteen.” Tim said. 

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.” 

“The bridge?” 

“Balance. The living and the dead.” 

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”  

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.” 

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples. 

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.” 

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.” 

“Exactly.” 

“The power of ruling an entire realm…” 

“Exactly.” 

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.” 

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.” 

“I’ll put them at ease then.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?” 

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities. 

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good. 

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.” 

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating. 

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for. 

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy. 

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way. 

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.” 

“You cook?” 

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.” 

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.” 

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.” 

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared. 

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.” 

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.” 

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.” 

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation. 

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad. 

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask. 

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit. 

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return. 

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.” 

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.” 

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.” 

Tim stared, “What?” 

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.” 

“Yeah?” 

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders. 

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata. 

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away. 

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…” 

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching. 

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass. 

“I gotta kill my brother…” 

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first. 

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down. 

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added. 

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.” 

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #dead tired #cameo appearance by Dick Grayson #This is a date

[sanguineterrain]

for the dc prompts you reblogged:

can i request jason todd x reader "someone likes being pinned down" + A flirting with B while sparring to throw them off their tracks

where reader is also a vigilante??

thank you so much 🩷

very sexy prompts thank u 😌

jason todd x gn!reader. r and robin!jay were friends, r doesn't know jason is alive/red hood but jason knows r is a vigilante. r's alias is 'nocturne' (if that's already in use oh well lmao). fighting/sparring, jason is mega in love with you as usual!!

all fics at @sanguinelibrary

****

"Still blindly following the Bat, huh?"

You land in a crouch on the rooftop, just like how Nightwing taught you. The Red Hood doesn't look at you, digging through two duffel bags. He doesn't even draw his gun, like you've seen him do with virtually every other vigilante in Gotham.

You wait, ready to spring into action. But Hood doesn't stop what he's doing. Slowly, you rise.

"What... do you mean?" you ask.

"I mean, why are you traipsing around Gotham as a bat-adjacent? Who are you s'posed to be anyway? Goth Bat? Alternative Scene Bat?"

"I'm Nocturne," you say, shoulders rising to your ears. Rude. You thought the chunky boots and star over your suit's eye mask were inspired.

Red Hood lifts a hand. "Don't get me wrong, I dig the threads. I'm just surprised B didn't have an aneurysm over the sequins. Then again, Discowing did do it first..."

Your first two meetings with the infamous Red Hood have been similar in that he's never very concerned about you stopping him (ouch), but he also isn't callous or cruel with you like he is with the other vigilantes.

Case in point: the last person who cornered Hood on a roof was Red Robin. Hood shot him in the shoulder before he could land.

In short, he's perplexing as hell.

Batman's forbidden the rest of the team to confront Hood without backup. And you're technically not supposed to be on patrol tonight. But if you can intercept Hood, that'll be a huge win.

Hood keeps on packing the duffels. You hesitate, then step forward.

"Get away from the bags," you say. "I won't ask twice."

Hood looks at you. "Nocturne's a pretty cool name, I'll admit. And I like the boots. But I still think you oughta call it quits."

He zips up the bags, stands, and kicks them to the corner of the roof.

"Because you're just that unstoppable?" you ask, hands curling into fists.

"Yeah. But mostly 'cause I know you're made for so much more than this, sweetheart."

And that is the third and perhaps most bewildering thing about your encounters with Red Hood: you've gotten the creeping feeling that he... likes you.

Which is ridiculous, and if you ever breathed a word of that to anybody, Batman would probably check you into Arkham.

You take another careful step forward. Hood leans against the railing and folds his arms.

"This the part where you apprehend and hogtie me for innocently packing a duffel bag?" he asks.

You glare. "Innocent? I know you're making a weapons delivery because I know you've been waiting for Batman to be off-planet to make it."

"Clever. Told ya you're too good for this," Hood says. "Should be in college with those smarts, not playing maid for Batman."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"I'm advising you as your friendly neighborhood drug lord. Lecturing makes me sound like a guy who's got too much money and too big of a savior complex to understand that the way he fights injustice is fundamentally flawed."

"Sounds personal."

Hood laughs. "Honey, you have no idea."

You strike.

Hood parries your first attack easily, which you expect. The truth is that whoever trained Hood cut no corners and you're still relatively new at vigilantism. It's only by the grace of God that Hood hasn't left you to bleed out on a roof.

You kick his shin, but Hood turns on the instep and blocks. You go for his shoulder, where his armor separates to give him more movement. But Hood's ready for that too, and he catches your arm.

"Gotta keep that right arm up," he says. "Surprised no one's trained that outta you yet."

You elbow Hood in the throat. He coughs and lets go.

"Like that?" you ask, muscles tense with adrenaline.

Hood makes a sound that might be a laugh, still choked from your hit. "Just like that, honeylove. Good job."

"I don't need feedback," you snap, immediately going back in for another hit.

"Sorry. I'll make this quick then. I do have a delivery."

On the next strike, you advance, using a technique Nightwing drilled into your head for bigger opponents. Hood goes down and you land atop him.

"Oh, that's a Nightwing takedown if I've ever seen one," Hood says beneath you.

You're close enough that you can hear his breathing through the decoder. Pride swells in you at taking him down. Not even Batman has managed such a thing.

Hood is warm and big. His shoulder span alone dwarfs you. When you'd seen him from afar, fighting Batman or Nightwing, you'd been terrified.

But now, perhaps stupidly, you feel comfortable. Annoyed, but safe. Something about him reminds you of home. Makes your stomach flip in a good way.

Which is terrifying.

"You're coming with me," you say, reaching for your cuffs.

"If only. Unfortunately, you've forgotten a teensy weensy detail, dearest."

Hood bucks you off, legs first. Your feet fly into the air, which allows him to flip your positions. You wince, preparing for a concussion upon impact as you go down. But Hood cushions your fall and neatly rolls you over. Your back is pressed into the concrete, hands locked over your head. Hood's weight holds down your hips and legs.

He looms over you, easily holding you down. Your face grows hot.

"How did—" You squirm in his grip. "I had you!"

"Weight distribution, sweets. Tell Al—one of the Bats to add weight to your boots. They keep you light on your feet, but you were depending on them too much to hold me down, and we ain't evenly matched there."

You thrash in his grip. "Hood, I swear to fucking—"

"Easy. Don't sweat it, sweetheart. You haven't been doing this for very long. That was a good takedown, regardless. I'm impressed."

"Screw you."

He hums. You can tell he's smiling under the helmet. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't like feedback."

Hood strokes the inside of your wrist. You aren't sure he's aware he's doing it. His grip is firm but light. He's not trying to hurt you. Your pulse is in your throat.

For a moment, you're both still. Hood seems caught in a trance, like even Superman couldn't tear him away from this moment. From you. And it's not that you're afraid, you're just... you're...

"How do you know so much about me?" you blurt, because it's puzzled the whole team. "You been spying on me?"

"'Course not. Unlike your boss, I respect privacy. No, I did research. I recognized you from when you'd hang around that second Robin. Shrimpy little guy. What'd ya even see in him?"

The grief overtakes you before you can control your mouth.

"You don't know anything about me or him," you spit. "Don't fucking talk about him. He had more skill and goodness in his pinkie than you'll have in a lifetime. And you could learn a thing from him about changing a city. He'd tell you that fear alone never works."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks.

"Where's your distress signal?"

"Why would I tell—"

Hood shifts over you, cutting off your reply. He pulls a ziptie around your wrists. They're not even a little tight. You could probably slip out of them if you had five minutes.

"I know you're not s'posed to be out tonight," he whispers in your ear. "'S not your patrol night. Good thing you're my favorite."

You nearly swallow your tongue. "How do you—I don't—"

"Uh-huh. So you be good from now on, yeah? Wouldn't wanna have to keep tying you up like this."

You lift your chin. "We'll switch positions soon enough."

Hood snorts. "Okay, I know you heard how that soun—"

"I heard it," you say grumpily. "Just get on with it. Jerk."

"As you wish. Distress signal?"

"Collar."

Hood presses the button under your collar. Your breath hitches as his gloved fingers graze your neck.

"Oh? Does somebody like getting pinned down?"

"In your dreams."

Hood laughs. He zipties your ankles last, then sits you upright against the railing.

"Not too tight, are they?" he asks. "I know you've got a circulation problem."

You squint. "You seem to know a lot about me. Not fair that I don't know much about you, Hood."

"'S just business, honeylove," he says, scooping up his duffel. "Now I don't wanna see you in a suit anymore, comprende?"

"Or you'll what? Shoot me?"

Hood pauses, eerily still. He turns those glowing white eyes upon you. Your heart picks up.

"No," he says, so serious it startles you. "But someone else might. And I don't want you to face the same fate as your good friend Robin."

He vaults over the railing before you can respond. Your head thunks lightly as you lean back and wonder if you're really just business to the Red Hood.

(pt 2)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #jason todd #dc #inbox #blurb

[books-and-omens]

Rather a big thing, by the way, that many of us are probably re-evaluating right now is Crowley consistently not wanting to be called kind or nice. Especially not by Aziraphale.

In S1, that was what triggered the wall slam. ‘Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me’—but in S2 we see more about how strong Crowley’s feelings are on the topic.

In the Job minisode, Crowley vehemently insists that he is a demon. He is so angry at God. When Aziraphale tells him that he is certain Crowley does not want to destroy Job’s children, Crowley takes his glasses off to expose full-demon irises and looks Aziraphale in the eye as requested and says, “I want to”.

Aziraphale is heartbroken over that. His shoulders slump, he exhales shakily, his faith in Crowley has indeed cracked. Look at him:

And then, of course, he figures out the trick, and it turns out that he is exactly right about Crowley. “Well,” he says, and looks vindicated, triumphant, amused.

He was right. He knew Crowley would resist atrocity with everything he has. He knew Crowley would understand it’s an atrocity in a way Gabriel and Michael did not seem to (and neither did those two care). What Aziraphale sees is that, for all of Crowley’s demonic posturing, Crowley came through.

(He remembers the angel that Crowley used to be. So joyful. So happy. So unlike Gabriel and Michael, too: the angel Crowley would never have gone along with killing Job’s children.)

At the end of this minisode, Aziraphale is ready to go to Hell. He thinks he must: he lied, he thwarted the will of God. Crowley, of course, tells him that he is simply an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.

Aziraphale will process this in some way later, but… he won’t process it in the same way as Crowley. Aziraphale won’t reject the idea of Heavenly goodness—Heaven is supposed to be good, that’s the whole point—but he will take note of how, time and time again, Crowley exemplifies this idea when the actual Heavenly angels do not.

Across history, Aziraphale sees Crowley do things that are good. And then disclaim them, reject them, call them something else. A demon could get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, Crowley had warned him a long time ago.

Aziraphale will remember this.

Don’t say thank you, Crowley hisses in the Bastille. My lot do not send rude notes.

And the Victorian minisode?

Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions, Crowley tells Aziraphale vehemently after saving Elspeth from suicide. (In Christianity, certainly in the 19th century, suicide condemns a soul; one who died by suicide does not even get a Christian burial. So Crowley has actively diverted a soul from Hell by drinking the laudanum.)

And—look at how indulgently Aziraphale is looking at Crowley as Crowley insists he is not responsible for his actions.

Of course you aren’t, my dear, he seems to think. We both know you did it on purpose, to have a plausible excuse for Hell. But of course we both know that you are in fact responsible for your actions, and that, at great personal risk and cost, you have once again chosen to do good.

So by the end, from Aziraphale’s point of view, Crowley has a much better idea of Good than Heaven itself. And—oh joy!—in the finale, Metatron, the voice of God, finally acknowledges that fact and validates it. Your demon recognized me when nobody else did, Metatron essentially says.

(I just cannot with the ominous dramatic music that plays as Metatron leads Aziraphale out of the shop. Get the FUCK OUT David Arnold, this is so pointed and disturbing. In this season and in the last, the music is narration, it tells us so much without a single word.)

Anyway! Yes! In the finale, Aziraphale is being manipulated, and part of why it works is that he still does not understand Crowley’s motives in insisting he is not nice or good. He has been interpreting Crowley’s insistence solely as protective, which makes a lot of sense from what he has seen. A demon doing good deeds must hide to avoid punishment and pain. Crowley has hid for six thousand years, has gotten used to hiding. Sure, the last four years were different, but even in these years the danger hasn’t gone away, and six thousand years is a long time to set a pattern.

Aziraphale wants to see Crowley happy. He wants to see him—both of them—safe. And here, finally, is an official Metatron-offered way. Heaven is finally admitting and working on its mistakes. Surely Crowley will forgive them? Surely Crowley and Aziraphale can make Heaven better, together? Make into what it should be? (And they would be safe, they would be safe, they would be safe.)

They still haven’t talked. Aziraphale still does not understand Crowley’s choices. In the past, it might have been too dangerous for Aziraphale to know exactly why Crowley Fell, while for Crowley, it might have been too vulnerable a thing to discuss. So they haven’t talked, and Aziraphale does not know the exact questions Crowley had asked, does not know the exact reasons. He assumes.

And his assumptions, oh so well-meant, are going to be catastrophic.

#good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films. 

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down. 

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since. 

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job. 

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before. 

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face. 

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air. 

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow. 

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left. 

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again. 

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films. 

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!” 

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously. 

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him. 

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly. 

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence. 

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant. 

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open. 

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies. 

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies. 

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it. 

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again. 

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them. 

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant. 

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door. 

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What  -- the hell are you doing here?” 

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time. 

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity. 

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work. 

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.” 

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more. 

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you. 

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you. 

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him. 

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim. 

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive. 

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply. 

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off. 

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch. 

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants. 

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas. 

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy. 

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him. 

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on. 

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing. 

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day. 

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?” 

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh. 

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck. 

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started— 

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.” 

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register. 

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time. 

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass. 

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer. 

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him. 

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth. 

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled. 

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you. 

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching. 

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch. 

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“ 

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin. 

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release. 

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him. 

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.” 

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you. 

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust. 

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch. 

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips. 

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin. 

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings. 

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail. 

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl. 

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole. 

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better. 

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing. 

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.” 

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly. 

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you. 

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you. 

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit. 

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet. 

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter. 

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too. 

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go. 

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed. 

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again. 

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable. 

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole. 

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately. 

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously. 

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you. 

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex. 

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…” 

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right. 

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly. 

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice. 

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length. 

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.” 

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #neil lewis smut #sub!neil lewis x reader

[allfearstofallto]

Okie so we've had childe meeting scara's wife, but what about scara meeting childe's wife for the first time? If not can we hear more about the first one?

- 🍓

You are so right strawberry!! My dumbass really forgot that I could write the scenario going the other way!!

Scaramouche Meeting Childe's Wife

Yandere Childe! x reader x Yandere(?) Scaramouche

After almost a year of Childe fawning over you, the look of disinterest his coworker gave you was rather refreshing. The man, only a head shorter than Childe and obviously much more frail looking, had a scowl that could kill. You wondered how long it took to get a look that aggressive, but somehow still elegant on his delicate features.

“And this is my lovely wife!” Childe said rather excitedly and the man merely rolled his eyes.

“It's very nice to meet you,” you muttered softly, he didn't have much in the way to say back. Despite the cold of Snezhnaya he was wearing a shirt that barely went down to his elbows, shorts, and sandals. The cold of Snezhnaya wasn't normal, it felt like the air was biting you. You couldn't even leave the house without a few good layers, yet here he was walking through it with ease, “You're not dressed well for the weather.”

Another glare was shot your way, his eyes colder than the snow, “Skip the pleasantries. I'm here because I have to be. Don't pretend you want to speak with me.”

You didn't even dare look at Childe after the man spoke. He was always so quick to anger, especially when it came to you. Childe had very few loyalties in his life, one of them being the Tsaritsa, the other being you. He often told you how easily he could and would turn on anyone else if needed be, and it seemed this coworker was going to be no different.

“Number six,” you could hear that he was forcing the words through gritted teeth, “Perhaps I wasn't clear when I told you that I love my wife more than anything in this world.”

“You were clear. But perhaps I didn't care,” the man was bold, you'd give him that. And despite how rude he was being he still walked further into the home, taking off the large ornate hat he was wearing and letting you finally see how beautiful his silky, indigo hair was.

Childe followed soon after and the two of them went to talk. You could already tell that he wasn't completely friendly with this coworker, out of the many you'd met. You knew more harbingers than the average person did in a lifetime, more than you wanted to as well, but this one was the first one you'd seen be blatantly disrespectful.

But as they sat and chatted amongst themselves about missions and quite honestly, things you didn't understand, your mind still thought about how underdressed the man was. There was no way Childe would let him stay overnight, not with the way he was acting and Snezhnaya only got colder when the sun was down. You didn't want to just send him out into the elements.

“Could you bring me a spare jacket, and maybe some snow pants and boots,” you asked a maid and she was quick to drop what she was doing to scurry off and find things for you. In less than thirty minutes, everything was handed to you, neatly folded.

The meeting only lasted two hours and both Childe and his co-worker were leaving the office. You wondered if he ever got sick of scowling so much. Or if he ever even showed interest in anything at all.

Childe was walking faster than usual, probably trying to quickly get the man out of the house, but you stopped him, holding up the clothes that you'd acquired. The way both men looked at you made your heart sink to your ass, your orange haired husband had so much fury in his eyes from your kindness to the other, but didn't stop you.

“It's…it’s just cold out there,” you muttered, hoping that Childe would understand your explanation. He allowed the other man to take the clothes, a gentle smirk on his face.

Throughout the whole day, you'd never seen him with anything but his usual frown, you weren't even aware that he could smile, “Such thoughtfulness. I see why number eleven is interested in you,”

The door to the home was opened and the man ushered out. He was still holding the items you'd given him, not wearing them, but you didn't want to tell him to stop. Not while Ajax was looking at you so angrily. You didn't want to cause even more misunderstandings.

“Scaramouche,” he said while still walking out the door. You must've made a noise of confusion because he elaborated, “I'm called Scaramouche. And I'll see you soon.”

#mai<3 answers #🍓 anon #genshin #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche

[sawbiter]

a field of geranium - yuuji itadori

--

summary ! you and itadori have been together since middle school. when he randomly breaks up with you and disappears from school, you're left heartbroken and completely alone.

warnings / tags ! angst to fluff , exes to lovers , non-sorcerer reader, hopeful ending! implied fem reader, written with a poc reader in mind (skin tone and race unspecified!), past bullying, yuuji is lowkey dumb, reader is stated to be intelligent, lonely reader .. lots of angst. probably not very canon accurate to how curses work but shush.. reader curses a lot lol.

a/n ! hope you guys like this! i loveee yuuji sm .. this probably isnt good i haven't written in a while ;;

--

you remember a time when it felt like yuuji would always be around.

when he would kiss your forehead before classes and during lunch, hold your hand as he walked you to class and write you childish love notes during maths.

you never expected him to break up with you, let alone over text. you'd planned on confronting him at school after he had repeatedly dodged your frantic calls, but when you entered the school, yuuji didn't go there anymore.

it stung. yuuji had been your best friend since middle school, defending you from the bullies who'd pick on you for various things that'd later become insecurities of yours. (sometimes you wonder if those things are why yuuji left.)

going back to eating alone in the single stall bathrooms and having nobody to talk to during passing periods was a hard transition. your parents weren't any help either, telling you that high school relationships never lasted.

(you can't bring yourself to throw away the promise ring he gave you.)

you see him out one day, with a pretty brunette girl, carrying shopping bags for her. you go up to him; he's clearly moved on. (you can understand why. she's gorgeous.) he doesn't seem to notice you.

--

you're sitting alone the class garden for your botanicals class. you remember a time this was your favourite class (it was one with yuuji; go figure.)

now it's filled with bittersweet memories and the grief over someone you know isn't dead.

you're calm as a boy you've never seen before approaches you. your hands are gloved and your hair is a bit messy as you look up at him.

“be careful around here, please. it's class policy not to walk on the soil.” you scold a bit, his boots having crushed one of the plants.

he looks down at you, his face a bit stoic, “sorry.”

“it's alright- did you need something?” you smile at him politely.

he snaps his fingers, frowns a bit, then says “nope,” and walks off.

you'd never seen him before. he didn't even have the right uniform on.

--

“i cannot believe you just made me do that.” megumi rolls his eyes.

yuuji frowns a bit, “i'm sorry but- i can't go up to her.” megumi rolls his eyes as nobara fumes a bit.

“you broke up with her over text. no wonder no girls like you.” she snarks and yuuji just glares at her.

“i had just eaten sukuna's finger! i thought i was gonna die soon anyways!” he argues back,

“well then why haven't you tried to talk to her again? not that she should take you back- i pity the fact that she dated you at all.” nobara speaks as they walk away from the school.

“she probably has new friends anyways, plus she could get hurt, she's not a sorcerer.” yuuji says, his face looking almost like a kicked puppy.

nobara looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “didn't you say you were her only friend? that curse probably attached to her cause she's lonely.” she pops her gum after saying the last sentence.

“even more proof that me being around her is dangerous! plus- what if sukuna gets out around her while i sleep or something?!” he sighs, looking back and sneaking a peak at you in the botanical garden, “she's better off.”

megumi looks at him a bit, “i'm not surprised. you are the self sacrificing type after all.”

“i just think its rude to break up over text with no explanation, you guys were together for so long too.” nobara shrugs a bit.

“if i had spoken to her any more than that, i think i would've tried to stay.“ yuuji frowns.

--

two weeks after the boy approached you in class, your botany teacher dies in a freak accident, or at least that's what the police said. you aren't too sure.

ms. woods was a smart woman. you knew from the lunches you'd spend in her classroom to avoid bullies that she seriously loved plants.

so dying by ingesting a poisonous plant? out of character and frankly, insulting. you know that can't be the whole story.

that boy had something to do with it; it has to be. you look through your yearbooks after he had left; no sight of him. you go through all of your classes, all grades, you ask around. nothing. he didn't go to your school but he walked up to you during botany class and then two weeks later your teacher dies.

it can't be a coincidence. you go nearly crazy over it. you stay up multiple nights. you cry.

you remember when ms. woods called you smart, when she understood your grief over itadori and let you extend your onion cell project. you cry; something horrible happened to her, you just know it.

so, the night you stay in the school way too late studying poisonous plants in her room, you have a good excuse for why you see a huge monster in the hallway.

at first, you think you're seeing things from the sleep deprivation. you blink, rub your eyes and squint. it's still there.

“holy shit!” you jump out of your seat, going for the door to the garden before realizing they're locked, only able to be unlocked via a key- which you don't have.

the monster, a disgusting bipedal amalgamation of red roses, vegetables, cacti and other odd plants was slowly walking towards you.

“what the fuck.. oh my god- what the fuck?!” you shout, your hands shaking as you go to grab the nearest object to defend yourself as you press your body against the door. you grab a glass flask and hold it out as if it's at all a threat to the 8 foot creature in front of you.

the creature groans and you begin to tear up. this is it- you're about to die the same way ms. woods must have. nobody is going to mourn you besides your parents. you're going to die with people thinking you injested a poisonous fucking plant. you shut your eyes tight in preparation as it approaches.

it never does. you hear the creature use ms. woods' voice to cry out as someone attacks it. you peek to look.

its yuuji. and the girl from the mall. and the boy you thought killed ms. woods.

you gasp as they use all sorts of stuff against the thing and- are those bunnies?

“what.” is all you can gasp out as the brunette and the black haired boy run off, chasing the monster.

yuuji looks at you with his puppy dog eyes and you resist the urge to slap his stupid kissable face.

“yuuji, what the hell is going on.” you say, but it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“i.. um..” he looks back at the two he came with who are now chasing the monster down the science hall, “that's the curse ms. woods left behind.. we're getting rid of it.”

“a curse? and- and you're fighting it?” you ask, puzzled.

“i promise i can explain but,” he pulls you into a tight, squeezing hug, “I was so worried. A special grade curse against you- I was terrified that we'd be too late. We didn't notice in time to get it before it tried to hurt you.”

“did it kill ms. woods?” you ask.

he shakes his head, “no- the grief from her death created that.” you gasp.

“I made that?” tears spill as the adrenaline settles.

“no!” yuuji pulls away a bit, looking at you put still holding onto you, “no. you didn't- it's not your fault. oh my god, it's not your fault- i love you please don't blame yourself!” he hurries to reassure you.

you sob into the crook of his neck, “yuuji- you.. why did you go? i was so lonely. it's been so hard.”

he can feel his heart break as he squeezes you once more in his embrace, “i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry.” yuuji soothes you, rubbing circles into your back, “i didn't want you to get hurt but- it happened anyways.”

after several minutes of silent comfort, you pull away, wiping your tears before giggling.

“where'd you get those face tattoos?” you sniffle and laugh.

yuuji laughs too.

“it's a long story.“

you smile, “tell me about it. i wanna hear.”

#yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji x you #yuuji itadori #itadori x you #yuuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[kisses4lao]

Ok so I was thinking about a smut with a leech and wanted to ask you to do (i love how u write)

What about a AFAB!reader that likes to open her mouth and sometimes you do it without realizing it.

I read somewhere that eels have it like an invitation to mate or something like that (dont remember so much)

And about if is jade or floyd… well, both are my favs so I cant choose. What works better I guess

EEK TYSM!!! I feel as tho floyd would fit this better bc jade is a smart boy, probs knows that humans just open their mouths wide for random shit but floyd

...

Hes a lil stupid when it comes to these things(I love him I swear)

10/10, would fuck in the VIP room again

-floyd probably lmao(also the name of the fic)

♧CW!!! fem reader, breeding kink yas slay, unsafe sex(wear condoms kids), degrading(? Floyd calls us a slut for yawning around other men but he loves us 🤞), little to no foreplay hes too hawny, semi public sex, pwp?, mentions of jade but light, none that I can think of right now but floyd is such a silly little goose(im terrified of him)

NOT PROOFREAD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♧ you were originally here to study.

Seeing as your boyfriend, Floyd, was nowhere to be seen. Sitting in the mostro lounge while waiting for Floyd to be on break was a normal occurrence.

Since it had been awhile with slight glimpses of him taking care of customers, you decided to start studying on your own. Opening up a text book and starting to read and take notes, Jade comes over with your order.

"Apologies for my brother taking so long. The customers he has are being seriously rude, we're trying our best to have him not squish them." Jade says as he places your tea on the table in front of you.

"How long will he be?" You ask as you take a small sip of your tea. Jade rests his chin on his hand as he closes his eyes, seemingly in thought.

"Soon." He simply says as he walks away.

Although odd, you've gotten used to Jades strange behavior. As you were about to return to studying, you spotted Floyd waiting on the table across from you. He shoots you a smile before turning back to his customers.

You took that as a sign to go back to studying. Flipping open your text book, you begin to take notes again. As you get further into the book, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Resting your head on your hand, you start to close your eyes for longer periods once blinking.

As you began to drift off to a light sleep, you felt yourself yawning as you began to shift in your chair.

Having finally settled in a comfortable position, you begin to get lulled into a peaceful sleep by the surround sound of calming music in the lounge.

Drifting off, you get woken up by a sudden loud noise. "Boo!" It was Floyd, creeping up behind you just to scare you awake. Playfully punching his chest as you complain about how you just fell asleep, he takes your hand, leading you off somewhere.

"Floyd, where are you taking me?" You say between giggles. "Somewhere, it'll be fun, I promise." He says as he gives you a wink.

He leads you to the VIP room, which usually isn't occupied by anyone, like now. Just the two of you. He turns around to lock the door, he turns back to you, eyes widened with an unpleasant look on his face.

"That thing you did out there, I cant believe you did it infront of other men. Do you understand what they may think now? Think im not your boyfriend? Think I dont treat you well enough?" Confusion. All you felt in the moment was pure confusion.

"Floyd, what the fuck are you talking about? I was just studying, nothing happened." You could tell he was getting frustrated. "That thing! Where you opened your mouth wide!"

"You mean yawning? The.... thing people do.... when they're tired?"

"You can't do that around merfolk." Oh. Oh? This seems like something you can tease him on.

"Oh? And whys that, Mr eel boy?" You say as you chuckle. Somehow, floyd got even more pissed at this, he slammed both your arms above you and against the wall behind you, eyes still wide, and very much angry.

"You don't understand what you're doing. You're making a mating invite by doing that, what if the other merfolk saw? Or worse, what if Jade saw?"

"Floyd im sorry okay, I didn't mean to, seriously-" you were cut off by him smashing his lips onto yours, you fed into it, not resisting in the slightest.

He began to sink his head down to your neck, making soft bites on it and licking up the semi bloody aftermath. "If you want to act like a slut, then I'll fuck you like one." He says before digging his open hend into the flesh of your thigh and biting down on your collar bone.

You choke out a groan at the sudden pain as floyd slowly kisses the bite, making it feel more pleasurable than anything.

Once hes done, he looks up at you. "You're okay with this, right?"

"Yeah, just don't do anything stupid." You're able to say between puffs of hot air. Giving you a smile, he hooks his finger under the strap of your panties, taking his other hand off your wrists. Sliding down the peice of fabric while biting off his glove, he starts to suck on your neck as he begins to work his fingers into you.

Taking his thumb and rubbing it over your clit as he slowly sinks two fingers inside you. You moan out as he begins to curl them in you, sucking on the bite mark you made earlier.

"F-fuck... I cant take it anymore." Floyd groans out as he unbuckles his belt. Lining up his thick cock with your hole, "You're sure you're okay with this, right?" He says one last time in a panted breath.

"Yes just... don't do anything stupid-" and you were cut off once again by him doing something stupid.

He thrusts his whole length into you at once, earning a low, throaty groan from him as you were just trying to find stability. He takes both you thighs and wraps them around his waist, being able to hit much deeper in the position.

Mere seconds later, all the pain you felt turned into pure, absolute pleasure as he started fucking you against the wall.

Filling the room with moans of utter bliss from the both of you, having Floyd come completely undone after minutes. "I'm gonna fill you up so fucking good- make everyone know you're mine- have those other eel bitches know if you're gonna be a slut, you're gonna be mine, understood?"

You're barely able to make his words out as you start to feel lightheaded from the pleasure. His grip on you tightens as you feel him twitch inside you. "Fuck, im gonna-" he was cut off by a powerful moan as he came inside you, slowing down his pace in the process.

Floyd slowly sinks down to the floor as he places you down on it, leaving you for a moment as he grabs a wash cloth. He starts to clean you in silence, waiting for you to say something. You were too tired to speak, however.

Once you're clean, he makes himself presentable again as he picks you up and walks you back to your table. Once he sets you down, he walks off and brings back a bottle of water and some snacks.

"Dont worry, they're on me." He says with a wink.

As he turns to walk away, you grab onto his sleeve to get his attention. He leans in close to hear you over the bustling crowd. "Floyd, I didn't get to fini-" he places his index finger over your mouth.

"Now, now, I didn't forget my dear, I promise. If you're good today then I'll double it tonight, hm?" And with that, he walks off and returns to his job where jade and azul kept yelling at him for bailing.

As you sit in silence while occasionally looking over at Floyd, he makes eye contact with you while being yelled at. Going back to you table, you realize something, your tea has gone cold.

Oh dear, whoever will you call over to replace it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: i had no clue how to end this fic wiwhwihsiwow im going insane

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #floyd leech #floyd twst #twst floyd #floyd leech smut #twst floyd smut #floyd twst smut #jade is mentioned but hes not important #sorry jade enjoyers lmao

[kindnessoverperfection]

I want to break down a common point of conflict when addressing NPD stigma.

A lot of hangups people have tend to be along the lines of "but I DO see a lot of people with actual NPD who are acting in toxic or abusive ways".

This will be kind of long, so bear with me.

Point #1: People are way more likely to be diagnosed if they exhibit "stereotypical" symptoms.

There's this image of NPD as a disorder that is only present in those with patterns of destructive behavior towards others. Many therapists have this conception. (Shockingly, the mental health field is not perfect & without stigma.)

Gonna copy-paste this here from my other blog (so forgive me if you've seen it before), because it's a good example.

Three people are criticized at work. Their boss yells at them for their performance in front of everyone. Person A gets mad and defensive. They yell back, using cutting remarks as a way to try and ease the distress they feel. Person B acts really mature and responsible the whole time, nodding along and agreeing and promising to do better, just desperate to maintain and improve their status. Desperate to be liked. Later they go home and handle their distress through self-destructive means, and spend the next few months overworking themself to the point of illness. Person C doesn't seem to respond much at all. They go quiet and seem distant. They don't lash out or lash in, but for the next month or so, their productivity drops. They simply aren't able to focus on work or self-care, no matter how hard they try. The stress is overwhelming. All three of these people have the same root issues, but only the first would be labeled a narcissist. Outwards behaviors and presentations don't reflect the pain, distress, and difficulties with life that are underlying them.

So, three main things happen.

There ends up being a higher rate of people with destructive behaviors who are diagnosed with NPD

The people who don't particularly exhibit behaviors and are considered ""too nice to have it"" are overlooked entirely (and never get any sort of help for their underlying issues, yayyy)

People are more likely to be more honest about "ugly" symptoms / symptoms that are frowned down upon than they are in other mental health communities.

(Also some people decide to act super edgy about it, which is annoying but here we are. Some of them are trolls.)

(And while I'm at it, some people are misdiagnosed with NPD because a psych sees someone who committed a violent crime and is like "uhh slap them with the Evil Asshole™ disorders!! no further thought given.")

Point #2: People who have messed up are not inhuman monsters who deserve no help or support

While I do think it's important for people to understand that patterns of toxic behaviors aren't the ONLY way NPD can present, I'm not going to let the conversation stop at "some of us are nice though!!"

Human beings aren't RPG characters who can be sorted into "monster" or "ally". Every single person has done something hurtful, has messed up, exhibits some sort of behavior that puts strain on their relationships sometimes.

So I'll bullet point some aspects of this that need to be talked about.

People without NPD also commonly exhibit toxic behaviors, but people ignore that nowadays. Either they armchair diagnose anyone who's slightly rude, or they only focus on it in pwNPD and ignore it in themselves or others. NTs can be jerks too, and they're probably less likely to acknowledge it than pwNPD who are constantly watching and checking themselves and analyzing their behaviors and attempting to do better.

Assuming that NPD makes someone abusive doesn't help anyone. Can it impact behaviors, and make it more difficult for people to be self-aware? Of course. But an important step in healing from any mental health condition (especially personality disorders, ime) is realizing that you're not inherently ""bad"", and that you can take responsibility for your actions and learn to deal with things in constructive ways. Just going "NPD makes people bad, full stop"- other than being a mean shitty thing to say- absolves people of guilt and asserts that there's no reason for them to try and improve.

Yes, it's okay for people to hate their abusers. Their abuser. Not an entire community of people who happen to (maybe) share a trait with them.

Building on the above point, people tend to go in defense mode when they hear things like "pwNPD who have acted in toxic ways can learn to improve their behavior", "people shouldn't be saying awful things about folks with this condition", etc. because they automatically try to apply this to their abuser. Interpersonal situations are very different from society-wide mental health access. No, don't stay with your abuser expecting them to change, and don't hold onto the hope that they will. No, don't censor yourself or your hatred or anger towards them. Just don't make blanket statements about a disorder that they may or may not have- blame their abusive actions, not their mental health.

"I hate you for your abusive actions and the harm that you caused me." =/= "I hate a group of people because of an inherent unchangeable part of them that's tied directly to severe childhood trauma they suffered. Because of it, they're evil and unlovable and are incapable of change. They're inhuman and will never experience real connection with others." ..........See the difference??

Even if there were a disorder with a 100% rate of toxic douchey behaviors, I'd want the conversation around it to be changed. I'd want different words to be used to divide up the spaces and conversations and resources, so that survivors of abusive or toxic behavior can get help, but that the disorder still has space to be treated. Otherwise, there are zero resources for healing. Nothing is being done to help these people or solve the issue. They're just told they may as well not try. They're blocked from healthcare entirely, despite how the entire point of being diagnosed with a condition is supposed to be to treat it.

There's a wide range of people who have NPD- it presents in many different ways, a person who has it may or may not exhibit harmful behaviors- but no one deserves to be denied treatment or told they're unlovable because of a condition they have that was formed from trauma.

Speak out against abusive behavior. Don't destroy healthcare for a medical condition.

#actuallynpd #npd stigma #narcissistic personality disorder

[xfancyuu]

~ now i draw a luxury nxde. [aemond targaryen] 18+ SMUT

because it's the beginning of spring i wanted to post for that so in universe it is also warm and flowers are blooming! reader is afab with she/her pronouns & my requests are open! this could be read as though it's in the same universe as my other bolton!reader works, though she's married to aemond and is referred to as lady targaryen. there are no appearance indicators in this fic, this is kinda canon divergence. also i didn't bold the dialogue for this one and i actually think i'm gonna go and reformat my other fics to match! this fic is also known as frolicking and fucking so yeah that's what you're in for. smut will be indicated with a different coloured line break if you do not wish to read it. [1,757 words]

this fic contains: wall sex, public sex, dressed sex, choking, spitting, voyeurism, name-calling, corruption kink, attempted dirty talk? y'all are just newly married and experimenting tbh, y'all degrade each other, slight orgasm denial, cumming inside. if i missed any please lmk!

You had never imagined life as a married woman to be so blissful. You had heard from the ladies in court that they simply did their marital duty and did not enjoy spending time with their husbands. They had told you that the bliss would wear off within the year once you had children, and they would steal your beauty.

You had all but rolled your eyes at their commentary. They were rude and bitter, seeking your own mood to be as equally unhappy as their own. They nitpicked at everything you did, from reading too much to what you ate and how you conducted yourself. Loneliness truly was more appealing than spending ceaseless amounts of time with women who were your mother's age and almost as bitter. Being surrounded with unmarried women was improper, they had told you — not that you paid them mind, as your ladies in waiting were all unmarried and far better company.

You found yourself in the gardens with your ladies-in-waiting more often than not, the weather was pleasant, and you'd much rather be outside than wallow inside without much joy. Flowers had brought you much more joy than you had anticipated, they livened your mood from the dreaded time spent with the married ladies in court. They wouldn't be seen outside without reason, whereas you did not care much for the opinions and thoughts of others in court, despite being a Princess.

The book within your lap had become much more interesting than whatever your ladies were gossiping about, you hadn't cared much for the people they were talking about, but the adventure of Lady Sunderland and her times in the Reach were too addictive to put down. Your ladies' had tried to gain your attention one too many times, but you were too engrossed in the book to care for the outside world.

The book was abruptly taken from your hands, making you both lose the page you were ready and had caused your brain to be hazy. You were both mad and irritated by the actions of someone clearly trying to ruin your day. "Do you mind?" You had asked, not expecting to see your husband as you looked up.

"Is it a crime for me to want to spend time with my wife?" Aemond had asked you, extending his hand as if expecting you to take it despite disturbing your peace.

"It's a crime when you snatch my book off of me and expect me to be happy about it." You retorted, deciding it was probably better to go along with him, and took his help to get off the grass. "Lucky for you, I like you enough not to lock you up."

"Oh how merciful." Aemond responded, not removing your hand from his grasp, "the flowers are blooming, you should be looking at the world instead of living in your books."

"I'll have you know I can do both equally," You retorted, leading Aemond away from the prying eyes and sharp ears of your ladies, "Now you're here you might as well keep me company if you won't let me read, perhaps a walk around the garden would do us both some good."

"I have a better idea than touring the gardens," Aemond had pulled you into a secluded pathway leading away from the hustle and bustle of everybody else.

"Your ideas always end up with us in trouble." You weren't entirely wrong, the disapproving look of Queen Alicent would be forever engrained in your brain.

"They may be troublesome, but you always have fun." You couldn't disagree, instead you simply followed Aemond to whichever location he wanted to show you.

Aemond had abruptly left you in the morning, leaving you needy and begging for him to finish the job he'd started yet he had left you without a thought for your own well-being. You could somewhat blame your crankiness and willingness to do such a deviant act in public with the possibility of anybody seeing and reporting such acts to the Queen.

The thought that you shouldn't be doing this had crossed your mind — the words would not leave your mouth though, you had wanted to do this, neediness had seeped in, with your skirts and underclothes raised above your waist, your modesty was damned and so were you.

The carnal need and desire you felt within yourself had put all your thoughts out the window, if you were in your usual mind frame you would have told Aemond no, that it was improper but words would not form in your throat. Instead, you kissed him back with almost as much longing.

The insatiability you had felt was consuming you, yet it felt more so annoying, Aemond hadn't truly done anything to you to make you feel this way, little touches and long stares did not warrant you feeling so flustered by the man so much you'd let him take you any which way he wanted.

You were expecting the current position you were in — being in public had never been a boundary you crossed with each other, yet he had so little patience when it had come to you, not even checking if the garden was secluded enough not to have prying eyes follow you, "Who knew my lady wife could be such a whore?" Aemond had whispered in your ear, though you could not form words of your own, "Wanting me to take her right now with not a care in the world who witnesses it."

"I think you can only get your cock up with the thought of an audience, you leave me so frustrated when we're alone in our chamber."

"You may come to regret that, wife." Aemond had always had to get the last word, "Your tongue may be sharp, but I will fuck you until you can't form another sentence." He'd begun unlacing his trousers, and you truly knew you were in for it — whatever it entailed, you weren't sure.

"You keep saying what you're going to do, but you haven't even stuck it in yet, tell me husband, are you struggling? Do you need me to help you stick it in? Can you not find the hole?" You couldn't finish your light-hearted taunting Aemond had entered you with little care, it was sloppy and lustful as though he felt as much need as you did.

You couldn't stay quiet, not with how intoxicating Aemond had felt inside, thrusting himself as far as he could inside of you, the slow pace was comfortable but irritating, you wanted it fast and hard, you wanted Aemond to show you the side of himself he hid away, the side which would make you blush if you so much as thought about it.

You were so used to being in control, Aemond had ensured you always felt comfortable and could stop at any moment but seeing him so dominant had made you tingle, then gasp as you felt a hand around your throat. "You've got to be quiet, you don't want the world to hear you, do you? Don't want the world to hear what a whore you become for cock."

The sight of your ladies seeing you in such a position had the opposite effect than what you thought it would, the idea of corrupting them as much as you had been corrupted had you clenching around Aemond's cock.

"Not so fast, princess," Aemond spoke, his pace slowing and causing the momentum and build-up to your own orgasm to be depleted. "Good girls get to cum, you've not been a good girl, have you?"

You couldn't respond, the hand wrapped around your throat had become tighter, "Going to cum inside you, princess, have you got a problem with that?" You had tried to shake your head, but with the grip Aemond had on your throat, your head hadn't moved an inch.

Aemond had increased his speed, and you knew he was close to his own peak despite ruining your own, the pettiness within you had decided if you didn't get your release neither was Aemond. As if sensing your plans, Aemond thrust into you harder, keeping you in place as though you were a doll he could do what he pleased. "You're going to take my seed, and you're going to thank me for it."

Your orgasm was too sudden for you to realise what was happening, from the words Aemond spoke to the way he was fucking you, it was far too much to process and your body reacted entirely by itself. You knew disobeying Aemond would have consequences but in the depth of your own pleasure and Aemond continuing to fuck you, you didn't care. You'd take any punishment to feel a moment of the pleasure you were currently feeling.

"Naughty girl." Aemond whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, "I thought you'd finally be a good girl, though I suppose I set my standards too high for you. Open your mouth."

You did as he commanded, not wanting to make him more upset with you. However, you weren't prepared for him to spit in your mouth — or to like it as much as you did. "You belong to me and you do as I say."

It hadn't taken long for Aemond to spill his seed within you, his grip on your throat loosening and his teeth biting into your skin. It wasn't often you had allowed him to cum inside you — the prospect of what would follow being in the forefront of your mind. "I'm yours." You reassured Aemond as he came down from his climax.

"Are you okay there?" You had asked, not used to such an intense reaction from Aemond, "I really enjoyed myself." You reassured him, you were so close and the euphoria of the situation had you cradling Aemond within your arms.

"It was just a bit... much, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, pulling out of you. At that moment, you knew you'd need to bathe. The feeling of his seed coming out of you had you almost recoiling.

"Trust me, you'd know if you were hurting me." You didn't want to approach the subject of being witnessed in such an act. "Your mother may be expecting more grandchildren soon."

"Moontea exists, my dear." You hadn't been married a year yet, it wasn't entirely suspicious that you had not shown signs of being pregnant. "And for what it's worth, I enjoy our time just being the two of us."

as always, thank you for reading this! i really appreciate it. i really enjoy writing for aemond so if y'all have any requests send them my way. my next hotd fic will be for helaena so if that interests you just message me! crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism!

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x y/n #i just had fun writing this if you couldnt tell #basically i watched the tudors and yeah #i think this is the filthiest thing i've wrote

[yandere-sins]

So... Honkai Star Rail... have you met Dr. Ratio yet? I have literally seen him twice so far and he has my whole being in a vice grip. Man has either put me in direct danger or towered ominously over me and acted completely dismissive the entire time. I am not okay.

I have met him! (However brief that was because I'm not sure if there's more of him when you defeat the boss (and I struggle with the bosses because I don't build support characters, yes >-<)) I saw him and I knew this one is also going into my pathetic yandere shoebox with Argenti, and I wish I could see more of him because I so wanna get into his personality and yandere-fy him lol

All I can say is... since Argenti I am really into pathetic yans and Ratio just fits sooo good in that category.

Don't get me wrong, he probably started out pretty scary! He has that manipulative, confident, cocky attitude that will make everyone turn on you for being rude and conceited when you try to go against what he's preaching. He'll absolutely try to separate you from you friends and coworkers until he's that saint that still allows you to tag along with him. No one will really mind if one day he just doesn't bring you back to work. Keeps you snug and locked up and terrified in his private hideouts, enjoying that he gets to lord over you. He'll be so enarmored with the thought you now need him, you can't say anything against him, Ratio is the one you have to submit to if you want to survive in the paradise he's creating for himself.

The towering over you probably happens a lot (at night as he watches you sleep and trying to understand you) because he wants so desperately to be acknowledged by you, not even caring if it means he has to be creepy or a stalker watching the camera feed of your room. And when you don't do what he wants you to, he tries, he really tries to ignore you, lock you up and leave the whole planet if he must, but his thoughts are always circling back to you, his heart always wondering what you're doing and if you are lonely and thinking of him.

But the thing is, the situation is scary and all, but he's not exactly an example punisher from the beginning.

So yeah, I see him to a 180 after he has aquired a darling, no more pondering about science or math (I don't even know yet what exactly he is into even) but about how to make his darling like him because they really don't. Darling is just sitting their reading their book, throwing in a "mhm" - "yeah" - "sure" while he's talking, and Ratio is getting really desperate over the lack of acknowledgement and the kind of connection he wants with his darling. It's his own fault, considering he completely ignored all the reasoning and pleading you did in the beginning. And when there weren't as many awful punishments, you just grew numb to the fear of his presence.

I can just see him throw a damn fit about his darling ignoring him. Either in their presence or out of their sight, but this man hates hates hates not being in the center of his darling's attention when he demands it and he's being really pathetic about it.

The problem is just that he really expects too much from his darling. He'll be good and feed them and give them books (reluctantly even one that the darling wants and not only the other five he wants them to read so they can talk about his interests) and expect praises and teary eyes and so many thanks that honestly, he'll just be so heartbroken when the darling is "okay, thanks" and goes back to not acknowledging him or his good deeds.

And yes, he has his scary moments where he takes his darlings out on "dates" into situation that frankly would not end well for them without his presence. But he does not understand why they are angry and crying from stress and fear after he took them out and even defended them from dangers.

Ratio has times where he punishes his darling or forces them to do something they don't want to do mercilessly. Where he uses them as needed for experiments or puts them in dangerous situations, knowing it's wrong, but using these moments to put him into a better light with his darling. He might be cunning, but once he realises that really, what is the darling supposed to do except shutting down when they meet deaf ears with every other reaction? Ratio begins to panic and that makes him into such a sweet, pathetic yandere, desperate for his darling.

Anyhow, I'm sure he can be scary temperamental, but I also like to think he's just not entirely made for having the upper hand in a relationship. (Sorry, I had these thoughts for such a long time, hope it was okay to jump on yours! I know they are a little different but your thoughts about him are super valid as well ♥)

#Dr. Ratio #yandere dr. ratio #yandere!dr. ratio #hsr #honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere!hsr #yandere!honkai star rail #yandere talk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[envy-of-the-apple]

In your recent fic, the sun eats the moon, what made Gojo have such an obsession after mc gave him her spare chocolate milk. Like that's what's been driving me crazy, one chocolate milk was all it took for him to ruin her life, like it intrigues me so much, I wander if we'll ever get his pov

It didn't really start there. It was more like a spark of interest, but Satoru has always been the one to just go for the things he wants. He's assertive like that.

In the fic, it does take a couple of weeks for his obsession with Ms.Moon to fully bolster. He starts hanging out with you more, and his attraction to you starts with how different you are compared to his usual crowd. You're meeker, a people pleaser, but you aren't tripping over your feet trying to cater to him. You're just genuinely nice, and he hasn't really seen that in someone before. He likes the sincerity. It might be a cliche, but if it works it works, right?

I'd argue that if you had just said yes in the beginning, things probably would have ended great. Gojo probably would have dated you for a bit, got bored, and then dumped you. Not the most romantic, but definitely a lot more ideal.

But then you rejected him. Him, of all people. Something hinted throughout SEM is that Gojo isn't used to people saying no. His constant comparisons to the sun are proof enough for that. But you say no to him. He can't wrap his head around it, how someone as insignificant as you could reject him.

That's where his obsession starts. Really, it wouldn't have mattered how nicely you let him down. How many excuses you'd give him. No means no and he can't stand not having something he wants. Despite technically being an adult, he's still a kid. Stomping his feet when he cant have a new shiny toy.

It's still not love, not yet. I don't think he ever stops seeing you as something he owns, but after a while he does start to think how nice thing's would be if you two stayed together for a little while longer. Despite how rude you were in the beginning, you're nice now, so he can forgive you. Maybe someday, you'll make an honest man out of him.

When he confesses his love for you in that locker room, it's real. To him, at least. By then, you would have spent a few months under his arm. He's not as mean now, and you have carved a place for yourself in his heart. Even then, he wouldn't really care if you like him back. His narcissism is enough for both of you.

tldr: Gojo is a Sagittarius

#aka gojo is a spoiled bitch #but we love and forgive him for it #cuz hes hot and rich #and crazy #yandere #yandere jjk #dark gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru #“The Sun Eats the Moon” Asks #SEM

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Hii !! From the smut prompts (stop rolling your eyes, I know Im predicatable!) could I request "Accidentally Sending Nudes", "Sexting" and... a secret third thing (the choice is yours, go hogwild) for Jason x Fat Fem Reader? I'm leaning more towards sub!reader but shes def a little shit about it :3

Thank you in advance if you write it !! 🌼

See, this is why it pays to send in a request with me, because even if I don't answer it right away, I keep requests in my inbox for months and come back to them later!!! (This is from December 2023)

(Also this request is just plain fun) (because Star knows exactly what buttons to push to get me lmao)

DC Titans Requests - OPEN

How would Jason react to you accidentally sending him a nude?

(Jason Todd x Fem!Thick!Reader)

Warnings: set specifically in the Titans!verse - set during season 3/mentions of season 3 plot points; spoilers for major plot points of Titans (including character deaths on the show); this is kind of enemies to lovers? (enemies to fwb, I guess); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader is described as being fat/plus sized; passing mentions of Gar x reader (I couldn't help myself); dubious consent - because of the nature of the trope, Jason sees the reader naked without her explicit consent, and he decides to keep the picture without her consent - but it does spark a consensual sexual relationship between them; passing mention of using nudes for blackmail (that does not happen); this isn't really proofread; (generally, I consider this post to be a fucking mess because it was written in Tumblr but I was still trying to have fun with it lmao.)

...

Jason is minding his own business when it happens.

(For once in life, he is fully, completely, minding his own business.)

He's back in Gotham and he hasn't seen you in months - and if asked, he would say that he hasn't thought about you. He doesn't have time to think about you because he's been too busy with this therapy bullshit, training, trying to get back his title of Robin. Trying to get back in the cape. (And trying to get back in Bruce's good graces.)

But that's not exactly true. He's thought about you a lot.

(Most of those times have been with his hand around his cock, but again - he won't admit that.)

There is an occasional time that you cross his mind and it's because he's wondering genuinely how you're doing - wondering if you're well, how your training is going, wondering if you're doing okay under the Dickhead's reign. But he can't ever pluck up the courage to text you and simply ask. Because that would be admitting that he cares, and that would make him look like a weak little prick.

And that's why he's so damn surprised when you text him first.

He hasn't heard from you since he left the Tower (well, since he stormed away from Donna's funeral in what you called a 'toddler fit' - something that ended in a rather vicious text argument between the two of you). In fact, the last thing in the text history between the two of you is you calling him a 'giant, petty, whiny baby who can't deal with his own emotions'.

(You had no clue what had happened between him and Rose, so that did inform a lot of your opinion on the matter.) (And that was probably the reason why Rose still had all of her teeth after you had seen her at the funeral.)

But all of that was aside from the point.

The point being - Jason found himself smiling when your contact name popped up on his phone.

He has you in his phone as 'Pretty Girl' - along with a contact picture of you sticking your tongue out at him in response to having his phone shoved in your face with the knowledge that he was taking a picture of you. (That tongue always makes him think certain things, so even though you intended for it to be some rude thing to ruin the picture, it makes it so much better for him.)

(1) new photo

That instantly catches Jason's attention.

Perhaps you were sending him a picture just to flip him off, or sending him a picture of a dumpster to ask him if it reminded him of home - a common joke you used to make when he still lived at the Tower.

Jason grabbed his phone and opened the message, expecting another tired joke, and-

Holy fuck.

The last thing he was expecting - your naked body. Your gorgeous naked body.

(He likely would have expected a nuclear blast or for the Joker to clean up his act and actually become a decent, sane citizen before he expected this to happen.)

Jason brought his phone closer to his face, making the picture full screen in order to examine it better - he needed to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or that this wasn't some weird dream. But fuck, he definitely wouldn't be able to dream up this.

You were so perfect - so fucking perfect in a way that was so very real.

The picture was a fucking stunning side profile of your body - rolling curves, lacy underwear that could clearly barely contain your impressive hips with sweet little stretch marks jutting out from the fabric (jagged little marks across the softness of your skin that made Jason want to act up) - soft fat for him to grab onto, and the perfect teardrop shape of your breast, now bared to his eye in a way that he had only dreamt of before. Something that he had stared at through the oversized tee shirts you wore to bed without a bra, just wondering what you looked like underneath.

And fuck, this was so much better than anything he could have dreamt up.

Jason's cock began to harden almost instantly, and laying in bed, he reached over to his nightstand for some lube, ready to milk that picture for all it was worth, when-

His phone buzzed again.

Pretty Girl: 'Delete that.'

Jason hadn't even considered that you had sent it to him by mistake. He had been far too busy enjoying to even consider the intention or the psychology behind it.

So, he took his hand off the waistband of his sweats and texted back the first thing that came to mind.

'No.'

(He didn't hear your annoyed growl on the other end, frustrated at his downright typical Jason behaviour.)

'It's not my fault you made a dumbass mistake. Besides, it's the least I get after all the nagging from you.'

Then, something else came to mind as the bubbles popped up, meaning you were busy formulating a reply - an annoyed one, no doubt.

'Who did you mean to send it to anyway? Who are you fucking whose name starts with J that's not me?'

(You hesitated.)

Pretty Girl: 'I didn't type in J.'

'???'

Pretty Girl: 'I typed in G. And it turns out the first contact that popped up was Giant Baby. That's you.'

Jason felt annoyed and insulted on all levels. The fact that you were going to Tiger Boy for dick instead of him, and the fact that you had used such a mocking contact name for him. But when he realised that such a pathetic string of events had caused him to accidentally see you naked, he couldn't be too upset.

'I'm still keeping the picture 😈'

Pretty Girl: 'You're such an asshole' Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me one'

'Fine, I'll owe you one'

Jason shrugged it off, thinking he had won, until -

Pretty Girl: 'No, you owe me a cock.'

This made Jason's stomach jump. You couldn't possibly mean-?

Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me a picture of your dick. You know - an eye for an eye type stuff.'

Jason wanted to ask questions - what did you plan to do with the picture? Should he shave his balls first? Did you want more than one?

But his cock got even harder at you asking for a picture, at you demanding to see his cock, and he couldn't properly think - he couldn't even reason that you might later blackmail him with the picture.

No, instead, he found himself ripping down his pants and turning on the bedside lamp for good lighting, pumping himself up to peak rigid hardness and grasping the base of his cock in hand. And then, without hesitation, he snapped a picture for you. He made sure to get his abs in the photo - a collection of his best assets, with his pants pulled down to mid-thigh, showing off his tight stomach, the deep V leading down to his dick, and his thick seven inch cock in hand surrounded by some well-kept dark pubic hair.

(He was proud of it - and that ego was one of the things that annoyed you most about him.)

He sent it without hesitation and then you began typing several times and stopped once again. Jason's stomach churned with nerves until -

Pretty Girl: 'Fuck you' Pretty Girl: 'I thought it would be smaller'

Jason had no clue how to respond to that, and he was busy racking his brain for some clever reply, when -

Oh. Oh fuck.

(1) new photo

You had sent him another picture. And this time it was definitely on purpose.

It was a view between the plump, beautiful thickness of your thighs - your hand was inside the pretty lace of those panties, and your fingers were visible working on your clit while your needy hole dripped wetness onto the fabric.

So you had liked what you had seen.

Pretty Girl: 'What would you do if you were here right now?'

Jason's brain short-circuited then. He thought of so many things - eating your pussy until you screamed, flipping you onto your stomach and fucking you until you begged him to stop, gripping onto those gorgeous thighs, pinning them to your chest and pounding into your cunt until you finally surrendered and said that you had liked him all along, fucking your smart little mouth to finally shut you up-

Pretty Girl: 'Come on, Jay. Don't disappoint me.'

Oh, he won't.

(Another thing Jason won't admit - he came back to the Tower just for you.)

...

DC Titans Masterlist

#star-mum #my lovely moots #requests #requested #sundrop writes #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x plus sized reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc titans #titans #dc titans fanfiction #titans fanfiction #titans x reader

[chaos-and-sparkles]

In Which I Ramble About Pavitr's Character Design and the Indian Cultural Stuff Related to It

DISCLAIMER: I'm an Indian, and these are all my thoughts and analyses, but I'm also just one person and by no means am I speaking for everyone. I am not all knowing, and I am not immune to being wrong sometimes. These points are all my own thoughts and stuff that I know through my lived cultural experiences and some history and book knowledge, but I've not particularly researched any of these. I'm just out here giving my take from what I know. This is mostly just going to be me rambling, okay? Okay. Let's go!

Anyway okay so I just wanna go from the top down:

No. 1:

First of all his hair

His fucking hair

This is one aspect that i k n o w I'm overthinking and probably wasn't as significantly thought out in the design but it just Spoke to me and by all accounts I'm not the only one

But I'm so glad we have him with his thick gorgeous fricking hair, especially them being like curly/wavy and slightly long instead of straight and cropped or whatever

Like. Indians usually have very thick and luscious hair, not everyone ofc but generally it's a thing, and it's considered a point of pride to have long dark thick hair.

And the thing is for the longest time the beauty standard in India was to have very straight and shiny hair, all the actresses and heroes were doing it, even though that's literally not the realistic case for a lot lot LOT of Indians. There's a pretty big variety of hair texture in India; some of it is regionally concentrated too, eg. in South India you get a lot of frizzy, tightly coiled hair that's rough textured, whereas curly hair is usually silkier and looser curled as you go Northwards,, Bengalis tend to have very wavy thick hair,, etc. By no means a rule or anything, it's just a thing that there's a lot of curl variety and a lot of it was for the longest time considered ugly and unkempt (there are some classist/regionalist elements to this stereotype also unsurprisingly) still is by some people,,, bc the standard was Shiny Straight Hair. It's a standard that's slowly shifting. It's currently leaning more on the wavy and voluminous side. But it's def a thing still.

All that to say, it makes me so so happy to see Pav with his curly-ish lush hair that he wears with such pride and style,, that are a symbol of his own pride and self care too!!!

Also the line about "coconut oil, prayers and good genetics" - I LOVE THAT REFERENCE AHAHABSSK, using coconut oil for the hair is a very common thing here, it's so so good for the hair and the scalp alike and it's relaxing to massage it in too.

I've seen people try to write Pavitr in fics as "quickly brushing some coconut oil through his hair" as part of his morning routine and. Um. That's not how it's done askaskjas, I don't mean to be rude to the writers at all, everyone does the best with what they know and no one knows everything, but also practically speaking that would be greasy and awful.

There are multiple ways to apply coconut oil, ofc. Coconut oil is often massaged into the scalp and rubbed into the hair like an hour before washing, sometimes with lemon juice mixed in, and then washed off when bathing. Some people, especially those with drier and finer hair, apply it as a regular after-hair-wash thing, too, but even so it needs to be rubbed in.

A really beloved thing we have is coconut oil champis, too! This is basically when you sit down cross legged in front of youe mother/grandmother, and she massages the coconut oil into your scalp and hair in a way that literally cures all tension and headaches and leaves your head reeling and is so so good for hair and stress and everything. It's a family bonding thing more than just a hair routine. It's not always done by the mom/grandmother ofc, it's just how most of us first experience it, and they have a technique that none of us can ever quite replicate to the same effect later. As we grow up, we often do it for ourselves and for others. It's a weekly or monthly or even just occasional thing depending on who you ask. But yeah that reference was great I love it dearly!

Also about the hair length

So in the current modern "civilized" standard (Indian schools and society in general tend to do a lot of shit trying to assimilate us into western culture and stamp out our own,, for example all my life I've been in schools where speaking Hindi and Telugu and stuff in class or in the hallways was Wrong and Forbidden and We Must Speak Only In English Bc We Are Educated And Cultured. This is so fucking hypocritical bc they would also have Hindi and Telugu classes and then criticize us for not getting it right or whatever), boys are meant to have short hair. Teachers literally single boys out in class for leaving their hair longer, not the exact length they set as the limit. This was my entire school experience; thankfully it doesn't seem to be the case in college, but that may just be bc I'm in an artsy college. In the workplace it's less stringent but it's still a thing.

HOWEVER, historically and culturally, long hair was considered good and even Important for both men and women. There's huge regional variations in this ofc; Maratha peshwas and higher classes and stuff for example wore a "pilaka" (idk what else it's called), which is the head shaven clean except a tuft in the middle that's sometimes braided. Brahmins still do it too.

But my point being, long hair was considered good for the most part, at most it would be worn in a bun for fighting and working,,, braids are a pretty big deal too. Having to cut your hair short=a symbol of dishonour and/or exile, or reserved for menial workers and so called "low classes".

(This is not stuff you even get explicitly told btw. This is stuff I've mostly inferred and studied from history and mythology and stuff , so there's no guarantee I'm 100% right)

Also, in Sikkhism (I'm not Sikh myself so correct me if I'm wrong, this is just what I know) having long hair is super fucking important for men. The hair is wrapped up in the turban, and the turban is a symbol of honour and pride and literally considered life. The long hair is considered sacred.

Removing the turban is basically a symbol of literally losing your honour pride and sense of self,, not just in Sikkhism, just generally at this point. Cutting your hair? Insult on injury.

Pavitr doesn't have particularly long hair ofc

But having grown up with such rigidly enforced things abt boys having very short cropped hair, it makes me so happy to see an Indian character who defies that.

Also!! Quick tangent about braids and their significance,, they're considered very beautiful and another symbol of pride, intricate buns and what not too! Just wanna drop this to give you an idea of what i mean:

In the Hindu myth of the Mahabharata, Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas (she's a very interesting and important and beloved character, regionally also considered a goddess, she was a princess born of fire married to five princes and the vengeance for her honour literally fuelled the war for righteousness etc etc) vows never to braid her hair again until she has washed it in the blood of Dushasana, a man who forcefully tried to disrobe her in court (it's a whole myth of its own). At the apex of the war, Bheem, her husband, brings her his blood. She washes her hair in it and then for the first time in thirteen years, she braids it.

Braids are not as significant now but it was basically a Pretty Big Deal and I just wanted to talk abt it.

In Hinduism too the gods are portrayed with long hair, it's a Thing.

No. 2:

Okay so moving more downwards,, I have a bunch of Thoughts abt Pavs mask design!

Okay so obv we have the spiderweb-pattern that's a given.

But. The interesting parts are these:

The bindi-like design on his forehead.

Bc my point is

Sure that looks like a bindi. And that's beautiful in itself but I HAVE ANOTHER TAKE

Bindis are traditionally worn by women as a symbol of beauty, prosperity, and again, pride. But while nice, that's not quite a symbolism that fits imo

You know what else is ver similar where my mind immediately goes? A tilak.

The shape is kind of off for a tilak actually, a tilak is more of a U or a V with a dot or a flame-like stroke in the middle. So in that case it looks more like a bindi

But i really like thinking that it's inspired by a tilak too, bc

While a bindi is a decorative mark stuck or painted on a woman's forehead as a symbol of beauty and prosperity

A tilak is basically a mark that's finger-painted on the forehead of , usually a man but there's a softer smaller version for women too and ofc there are women warriors who got tilaks, for auspicious and blessing reasons. So in a Puja or ceremony, a tilak is put as a blessing and an auspicious thing, also meant to impart strength. The head of the household usually gets the most striking or biggest one.

Pandits usually wear tilaks for blessing purposes too, although their design is different and more elaborate than the ones given to others

Gods and goddesses had their own tilaks, some of them very distinctive like Shiva's

The part that applies to Pav is the warrior tilak

Basically before a king or warrior went to battle, it was customary to do a small sending off ritual and for the wife or mother to put the tilak for them and say "Vijay bhava" (may you be victorious)

It's still done for big undertakings and challenges like exams and new jobs and stuff.

It's basically for strength, bravery and victory

The main difference in a bindi and tilak is the intent:

Bindi is for beauty

Tilak is for valour

Which. For a HERO. Just. Chef's kiss.

2. the markings around his eyes!!

I'm sure this has been said before, but it's very very reminiscent of kathakali makeup.

Regionally there's a lot of eye makeup stuff also btw. There are some absolutely beautiful tribal designs and regional designs with a lot of colours but I cant remember specifics rn

Also!! The very distinctive black lines around Pav's eyes?? I love them sm bc they feel so so based in kohl and kajal. Another huge beauty and often pride related thing.

There's even a whole thing where a mother or older sister will often rub a bit of her kohl off on her fingertip and press it behind their loved one's ear so that "buri nazar na lage" (no one's bad gaze catches you). It's called a kaala teeka

The idea being that you're so beautiful and/or cute and bright and lovable and nothing should jinx that and nothing bad should happen to you. It's very rare now and I've never experienced it myself but it's so so precious <33

3. the white markings on his cheeks!

I've seen that explanation of how it's reminiscent of Ganesha, the elephant headed god who is kind of a symbol of new beginnings, intelligence, prosperity, and a ton of stuff I don't even know how to explain honestly, but he's very cool and beloved and has a lot of Good Vibes™ and i love him basically.

I personally am reminded more of kathakali makeup again!! But that explanation is very cool too and i like it!! I don't know if I agree bc i think it m i g h t be a blasphemy to have that imagery on your face, afaik no one here does it for any reasons and we have literal festivals and pujas dedicated to Ganesha

But then again I am a human with limited knowledge and i don't know everything

I personally think the tusk like designs are very cool. However, I also think it would be a bit of a No No for religious reasons. I also think it reminds me more of classical dance face makeup and stuff.

I also think if they meant to make it a Ganesha reference, then he should only have a tusk on one side, bc there's a huge deal about Ganesha being "ekdanta" (transl: one toothed) bc he has a well known myth of breaking off one of his tusks to write a mythologically and culturally significant epic.

There are also a lot of actual cultural face painting things in India that are way cooler than the Ganesha thing in my opinion. So while that theory is cool, I don't personally agree with it. I could be wrong, again, idk what the design intent was exactly.

No. 3:

Next thing: this is a very very small thing and i only have a sentence on it, but i really appreciate Pav's neckline in his suit.

The neckline here? That's the kind of cut that's most typical of kurtas. Especially more ceremonial, kingly, wedding sherwani, or generally festive attire; a regular kurti might have a v-neck or something, but this curved collar? Very Indian and classy in a way I can't fully explain.

No. 4:

This next thing I'm going to go completely ballistic about, everyone hold on to your seats!!!

THE FUCKING MOTIF ON HIS UPPER ARMS. IT'S EVEN ON THE MEHENDI-ISH PATTERN ON HIS WRISTS AND HANDS. THE SPIDER SHAPE TOO. I AM NOT NORMAL OKAY

LISTEN.

LISTEN TO ME

TBIS IS CONFIRMATION THAT KRISHNA PAVITR IS CANON

HE IS SO SO KRISHNA CODED

Idc if I'm delusional, i DARE you to look at that blue design and tell me it doesn't look like a peacock feather

THE SHAPE OF HIS FUCKING SPIDER IS OH SO SUBTLY CURVED TO BE PEACOCK FEATHER SHAPED TOO

There is no human way for me to be normal about this i need a minute

Okay for context:

Krishna is a very important and beloved god in Hinduism. I cannot overstate the love I have for him, even being mostly non religious myself.

There is SO MUCH about him he is such a big deal and thanks to him being made a character in popular Indian cartoons and so many animated and live action movies being made about him, he is literally woven in the fabric of our collective consciousness and love for our culture

He's a mischevious and fun and chaotic and lowkey antiestablishment kid deity. He contains the literal universe. He has a deep abiding love for his people and his family and loved ones and the world he serves. He is a dancer, flute player, sweetheart, lover of life. He has a thousand wives, yet one Radha who he never married but is his literal immortalized soulmate. He guides heroes to duty. He is full of wisdom but also silly hijinks. He is so so beloved.

The peacock feather is his symbol! You could see the peacock feather anywhere and it's immediately OH KRISHNA! He wears a peacock feather, famously. In all his iterations, from childhood to adulthood. Peacock feather is his emblem.

Krishna is depicted through the peacock feather. It's become a very common motif in arts like mehendi and various textile arts to have peacock feather and peacock patterns; I'm sure that existed before Krishna too in several cultural circles but he is definitely a huge part of it since. There is a chikankari motif that is very recognisable that's reminiscent of peacock feather but I'm mostly unsourced on that, going off my own interpretation

But there's a definite link between peacock feather=Krishna=inextricable part of culture and art.

At least in North India. He's less of a big deal the further south you go. Still very widespread and overall loved tho.

So anyway seeing that peacock feather type motif on Pav?? Mixed with his Spiderman identity??? Is so amazing to me.

Krishna coded Pavitr real ✨

(Also yeah people have already pointed out that Pav's hand designs are based on mehendi so I don't need to go into that askjasjkas)

No. 5:

Also. Huge fan of his arm cuffs. It's just another Indian warrior thing; often in ye olde times and in mythology, the cuff would be a lot simpler, often just a thread with an amulet to grant you protection. But it steadily became fancier, and now it can be decorative or a valour thing or both

Very often just decorative now actually. Often seen in weddings and ceremonies too

No. 6:

Okay about his bangles now:

I absolutely LOVE THEM I love them so much I am so obsessed with them actually!!

So. First of all

I remember there being a confusion in like earlier fics especially on whether they were bracelets or damrus or bangles or what

And i have Thoughts

So first of all

They are not damrus/damarus.

Damarus are a musical instrument made of wood and with two beaded ropes to beat on the small drum-like ends. They're also symbols of lord Shiva who uses a damaru.

They are very different from what Pav wears and i remember my fucking whiplash when earlier fics called his bangles damarus. I think i choked on my maggi.

I don't mean to be rude to the writers ofc, they were doing the best with what they knew. But it's just very jarring to me to hear that

I think an explanation I heard was that Pav's web shooter design was inspired by damarus? Which yeah I get that and I actually wanna talk about it bc I very much see it. But they are very much NOT damarus themselves

So

First of all i personally have never seen nor heard of the kind of bangles Pav wears which appear to have a strip of cloth in the middle? While being gold cuffs on both ends? Which is new and interesting actually and opens up aspects abt his character that i find really interesting

Bc first of all: that implies he made them himself from stuff he already had inspired by things he saw. It seems, at least to me, like he used bangles/kadas he had to make the shooters he uses, which are designed the way they are for easier slinging and his cool tricks with them which would be harder if they were solid gold, and also the shape when he does the cool yoyo-y trick and hits The Spot with it and everything is very damaru shape. Which is also pretty cool if it's meant as a reference to Shiva and his damaru (he's a very fierce god with the damaru) or a reference to the street performers who use it nowadays.

Either way - and also additionally the fact that PAV LITERALLY DOUBLED HIS BANGLES AS WEB SHOOTERS WHICH IS SO CREATIVE AND SMART - and developed his own whole signature skillset with it?? And made his own bangle/shooters as I said before????

My boy is PEAK jugaadu

He is the embodiment of jugaad

Never has anything been so true to the Indian spirit than jugaad

Okay so for context, the jugaad that I keep talking about:

It basically means makeshifting and/or inventing stuff you need from the limited stuff you have. That's a very simple way of explaining it. Just imagine that, but up the silliness level x100.

For example, a guy jugaaded a showerhead by poking holes in a sprite bottle and putting a hose in it and routing it to the tap.

Jugaad can be both very smart, and very funny and silly

And it usually involves combining useless stuff/trash/just stuff you had lying around to make smth that you didn't wanna waste money buying, and often ends up having more functions than the stuff it was meant to replace. This but it's also very crackheaded. Like idk how to explain. It's basically makeshifting, but it's just developed into such an Indian Spirit Thing™ that we have a word for it

So i love that Pavitr's bangles do all of that. He is a true Indian boy to his core!

No. 7:

Okay I have thoughts on his dhoti too!

So.

Blue.

I know why they used blue for his dhoti, what with the spiderman colours, the need to complement his bright red with smth softer, and everything. I get it and i love it so so much. What I'm about to say next is not a complaint against this at all, it's very good design imo

But.

Everytime I look at him in his fucking blue dhoti

I just remember all the times my grandmother has apprehended me and made me go and change for trying to wear blue or black at a Puja

Bc they're apparently unholy colours ;_;

Basically yellow, saffron, red are the appropriate holy colours. Now that i think about it, I've never seen a god or mythological king depicted in a blue dhoti or generally blue clothing either - farthest they go from the three i described is pink or green

I never really thought about it until my Nani pointed it out. I'm still not sure if anyone except her even knew or cared about it.

But that is the memory that bonks me on the head every time i Perceive the blue dhoti

Bro upgraded from funeral colour (white, which is his dhoti in the comics and absolutely infuriates me on a visceral level) to unholy colour askaskjjska it's so funny to me

Purple was still a luxurious colour, but generally warmer and/or lighter colours are The Done Thing. It's an old notion and the cultural connotations are now very diluted by Western influence and also none of us Caring about a lot of it anymore (not necessarily a good or bad thing particularly)

Indigo also has. Loaded connotations.

Because Britain did a Colonialism and a lot of Indians suffered for it. It's a whole history lesson.

I would rather not get into the whole details but basically Indigo (the plant from which the dye was made) was a valuable commodity and Britishers essentially forced farmers to grow only that, ignoring their need to grow food or sustenance or care for the land in general, especially in the Bihar-UP regions. There were eventually a lot of revolts where many people, esp farmers, died.

Basically a double whammy of starvation and death as a direct result of colonialism. It was a major part, historically, that sparked rage for the freedom movement

If you wanna learn more abt it you can search up Champaran farmer revolts!

Also about the drape of Pav's dhoti:

I've seen a couple of memes and reels abt how Pav, in an emergency, suiting up for Spiderman duty, would be taking an hour to drape the dhoti and stuff

And those are hilarious and i love them

But also

That's literally not even a proper dhoti -

So the thing pav wears is basically more of dhoti-pants with a cummerbund.

So okay I need to explain this better hold on

A dhoti is basically a sheet of fabric that is draped around the waist and down. The elaborateness of the cloth can vary vastly from intricately patterned silk and brocade, to plain white cotton with a thin gold border optional

The drape of the dhoti varies even more depending on region, occasion, occupation, and status. You can have everything from the casual simple towel like drape and tuck that some men wear to relax on a daily basis, to an intricate thing with many folds and pleats and tucks and the middle part that hangs (I forget the name for that) that would actually legitimately take hours and is often adorned with jewellery . To a thing that's flexible to move in and also looks very pretty and is genderneutral some dance forms call for.

Basically. The drape varies vastly. And it's all one cloth, maybe a second one for a separate cummerbund sometimes, I'm not that well versed abt dhotis tbh.

But the thing Pav wears?? It doesn't seem to me to be folded the way I've ever seen any dhoti

The way it's folded and shaped is not how those style of dhotis work. There would be a lot more pleats and folds, for one. But it's not shaped the way to match the less-folded dhotis either.

Now, I'm no dhoti expert, but that leads me to believe that's not a full on dhoti. What it's more likely to be is dhoti-pants

Dhoti pants are this fusion thing. It's in the name. I haven't seen it much but I know/think/am pretty sure its a thing, bc most Indian guys now don't know how to drape a dhoti either and it's a good solution. Worn like a pant, looks like a dhoti. Simple. A cummerbund for the middle drape, and you're set!

Also side note: the fold with the distinct two legs and the middle drape that Pav has? Is the most commonly depicted warrior and king drape,, at least in North and Middle India, I'm not as well versed about the South but I think it's the case there too. The gods are depicted in that drape too

I have fewer comments on his leg design, I like that it's reminiscent of mehendi even on his feet bc yeah that's also done on the feet, although rarer now and also a bridal thing

No. 7:

He has gold cuffs on his ankles that I really like!

Okay so here's the interesting thing:

I could be wrong, but

But that kind of thick ankle cuff is not actually an Indian thing?? At least not in the warrior hero context that a lot of his design seems based on. At least not of that shape and width.

What we do have though are very simple metal ankle cuffs put on (I think) one ankle of young kids for protection,, again a tradition I'm not very familiar with, it's more localised

The other thing we have that's more interesting tho:

We have payals and ghungroos!!! Which opens up so many exciting prospects to me because those are both dancer things

Like. The payals are ornamental. They are beauty things as well. All women would wear them, their elaborateness and style depending on status, money, and region ofc

They double as dance and performance things too ofc

But ghungroos are specifically dance things

Very very sacred and honoured to the dancers, too. Quite personal

(These are all little bells on the ghungroos btw!! Hundreds of them. They ring out when the dancers dance)

This is what Pav's ankle cuffs most remind me of. It's not the same thing ofc, and idk if the designers were even thinking of this.

But it would be really cool if he was inspired by ghungroos to have cuffs of similar thickness and placement on his legs. Perhaps even familiar to him hmmm?

This is me theorizing HARD to support my headcanon, but combined with Pav's classical dance-n-martial-arts-y moves, i present to you: Pav learning classical dance when he was younger (a thing that a lot of Indian kids do and only a few seriously continue for their lives) is real.

I rest my case

Like yeah it's known at this point that Pav's moves are based a lot off the martial art of kalaripayattu. Which is SO AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! But I also think this would be a cool influence alongside that, bc it really feels visible too.

No. 8:

The fact that Pavitr is barefoot is so so important and dear to me!!!

In Indian culture, you're supposed to take your shoes off as a mark of respect, before entering the ranabhoomi (literal transl: battleground, but not in an actual war with swords and shit ofc)

Being barefoot for pujas and in temples and on sacred ground in general is very important

As is being barefoot when you're walking onto a kabaddi or wrestling ground,, basically any fight that's supposed to be important and/or with honour. It's a respect thing for the opponent and for the earth you fight on.

There are a lot of contexts where being barefoot is important or a given

There's the prayer ground bc it's sacred and holy and you can't be dragging your dirty ass shoes there it's super disrespectful. You gotta enter with clean feet specifically, dirty feet are considered disrespectful too. that's also why there wil often be feet washing areas outside of temples here

Then there's the ranabhoomi that I just said, which is more of respect for your opponent and the earth. Respect to the earth especially is very important in the combat forms and sports I know of at least

Then there's the basic respect and tbh the hygiene thing too, of always taking off your footwear before entering another persons house. That one is more flexible, sometimes you can take it off inside, but the done thing is to take them off outside generally. Especially if you're a guest who's not particularly close. You'd be considered really rude if you didn't take them off at all. But again that still varies by person,, the older generations are way stricter abt it

Then the bride thing,,, it's actually a whole small ritual. The bride and groom will enter the groom's house for the first time,, which is considered the bride's new home bc misogynistic tradition so yeah. But basically it's supposed to be an auspicious beginning to a new home and life. (Btw being barefoot during the wedding ceremony is also generally required)

Usually, at least in North Indian tradition, a small vessel of rice is kept at the threshold that the bride must tip over with her foot when entering. It's for prosperity. Then she steps directly into a plate of a red liquid I forget the word for, but it's basically a sindoor paste type of thing. Her first steps into the house must be taken leaving those red footprints behind. That's for auspicious beginning

So Pavitr being barefoot is so so cool from a cultural and a character building standpoint

He takes his job seriously, he does it with respect and honour!!! He seems so chill and happy go lucky, but he's deliberate and respectful abt it!! And he's super connected to his culture too, bc you could just Not and no one would care, but it's so important that he does!!

So yeah!

That has been my full ramble askjasjkas. If you made it this far, have a cookie! Thank you and I hope this was interesting <33

#pavitr prabhakar #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #character design #rant #starr rambles #analysis #design analysis #character analysis #culture #indian culture #cultural references #pavitr my beloved #myths and legends #chaipunk #goldenpunk #spiderman india #india love #indian #long post

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for bitching about fics I dislike on my blog?

as a foreword, this is kind of a non-issue and no one's ever told me to stop, but I'm curious what other people think of fandom etiquette.

the fandom: a fairly small one. 2.4k fics on ao3 small. I recognize most people posting in its tumblr tag small. if I tell you the name of the source you'd almost definitely be able to find me small.

the source: pornographic, which means everyone involved is or should be an adult. it's BL with a switch MC, but the fandom overwhelmingly prefers bottom MC/top LIs (love interests), to the point where I've had people be astonishingly rude to me because my favorite character is a bottom LI and some of my friends have been outright harassed for the same. I used to not care about sex positions in the slightest, but now when I see bottom MC fanworks I can't help but remember how poorly I was treated.

the fics: wildly and inexplicably popular, even though they are, frankly, poorly written. it's eternal bottom MC turned up to 11, complete with copious amounts of OOCness in order to turn every ship into the worst ye olde yaoi gender roles dynamic you can imagine. it's things like MC, canonically a 23yo plank of a dudeguy, being written as a big titted milf in his 40s (which is made more confusing by the fact that one of the LIs is already a big titted milf). it's also things like the MC being written as disliking sex and having to be coerced into it when one of the most charming things about him is that he's a hilarious sex pest, or writing the LIs sexually harassing the MC when they really would never do that. I've likened it to replacing the characters with OCs that share the same name and my friends have agreed with me. I'm honestly convinced that the author and his readers don't actually like any of the characters if they feel the need to change everyone so thoroughly.

why I might be an asshole: it's assholish to hate on free fanworks, and I've bitched about these fics on my public tumblr blog. the fandom is small enough that there's a non-zero chance of it getting back to the author and a reasonable chance that fans of the fics have seen my bitching. I'm probably projecting the hostility I've received onto someone who's done absolutely nothing to me, and I am absolutely just straight up jealous that their fics get better stats than mine. I may also be being an asshole to myself, because being critical of other people's fics has made my hypercritical of my own.

why I don't think I'm an asshole: I think everyone has the right to be bad at things, but I also think everyone has the right to be a little hater. I don't put the fandom tag on these posts; they stay on my blog and my blog alone, and if later on I feel like I was unfairly vitriolic I'll delete the posts. I only post on tumblr because I'm certain the author in question only uses twitter, which dramatically lowers the odds of him stumbling across my posts. the fics are so popular that it's definitely possible that their fans would see my posts, but I think it's unlikely that they'd bother looking at my blog because 99% of my posts are about one of the bottom LIs. I have never and would never leave comments on the fics themselves, and I generally try to keep the bitchy posts to a minimum; it's far from a constant thing.

tl;dr - I publicly bitch about fics that (in my opinion) are poorly written and extremely OOC, under the assumption that it's unlikely the author would ever see it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole