#open to plot

[dustandteeth]

Welcome

ok an actual thought out pinned post lets fucking joe

Artyom | They/It | Russian American | CST | OC Roleplayer | Fandom | Literate | Artist | AU and Crossover Friendly | 26 yo | 18+ only | DMs open | Discord on request

•———————————•

𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕄𝕖

I love writing emotionally deep and complex characters. I prefer writing those with grey moralities, angst, psychological unfolding. The themes I normally write in circle around identity, morality, and how a persons upbringing or life situation can shape them. I also like to adopt Slavic culture into my characters.

I'm a multi-paragraph literate roleplayer. While my reply length is varied, it's flexible. I like to match my writing partners. I am also up to banter, but I prefer slow-burn and long-term interactions. I am deep into worldbuilding and if my writing partner is, too, the better.

I'll be SO fucking annoying if I get attached to our roleplays. I'll give my own headcanons, send memes, songs, create art. I will NOT shut up.

•———————————•

𝔹𝕝𝕠𝕘 𝕀𝕟𝕗𝕠

— Type: Independent / Multi-Muse / Original Characters / Fandom

— Style: Literate / Multi-Para / Emotionally Raw

— Activity: Active / Slow Burn

— Shipping: Chemistry REQUIRED / MxM preferred

— NSFW: Fine if part of story

— Crossovers: Yes

— AUs: Yes

•———————————•

𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕤 𝕀 ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙

— Metro 2033

— S.T.A.L.K.E.R

— Chernobylite

— DayZ

— Roadside Picnic

— ARK: Survival

— Outlast

— The Boys

— CoD

— Resident Evil

— The Evil Within

Others welcome, just ask! I also have my own worlds, too, which you can ask about.

•———————————•

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕀 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖

— Post-Apocalypse

— Dystopia

— Horror (Psychological, Cosmic, Supernatural, Religious, Body, Folk, Medical)

— Alternate History

— Military Fiction

— Drama

— Romance

— Urban Fantasy

— Emotional Slice-of-Life

— Mystery

I do more of these, you can request, but I tend to steer away from genres such as high fantasy, mostly because I'm inexperienced in those genres.

•———————————•

𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕤

This is a mature blog. I write difficult topics with great care, consideration, and research. What is written is never glamorized, only examined. I do not condone any harmful action that a character takes.

— Psychological Issues

— Abuse (Psychological, emotional, physical)

— Addiction

— Existentialism

— Violence

— Death / Murder / Grief

— Political Corruption / Tyranny

— Cuits / Indoctrination

— Religious Trauma

— War

— Torture

— Eldritch Madness

Do not follow if this content is unsafe for you. You may ask me not to write any of these, too, if you are uncomfortable. Take care of yourself.

•———————————•

ℕ𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 (to be added)

— Rules

— Character List

— Character Bios

— Threads

•———————————•

𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖

If you're just as autistic and annoying as I am, we'll get along great. If you love Metro 2033 or S.T.A.L.K.E.R., I'll keep you in a choke hold forever.

I'll also provide writing examples if requested.

[shrews-art]

I'm a serious artist with serious art projects

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[suntails]

true love

[boysborntodie]

TUA S4 proved that Netflix cancelling their shows after the first season is actually a good thing

[greengoblinswifey]

Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

[tojisun]

simon riley x f!reader; uhhh a wedding night kink au blurb or something like that idk anymore

it coalesces — the burning need; the hunger; the itch to touch and to claim. it is seeping into your pores, leaving you parched and heady, your breaths coming out in rasps as you stare at him heave from across you.

simon’s jeans are pooled to his knees and you trail your eyes down from his chest to his flushed cock where it twitches on his thigh. he hasn’t even touched himself yet but it is already an angry red, leaking, and so sensitive, that it has him gripping at the edges of the mattress.

simon has never looked so… debauched as he does now.

he has never looked more subservient to his desires and he has never acted like his hunger triumphs over everything, leaving him as he is now, all sloppy before you. his cold bravado and his walls that drive you out have crumbled. he is so putty now, and you haven’t even done anything. not a whimper, or a tease of a show. you just walked into the kitchen, in the pretty dress which johnny drunkenly confessed that simon bought for you, and talked.

you spoke about your day — about work and your meetings; about the recipe you wanted to try; about the trip to the grocery shop and the limited sale of the ribeyes that simon particularly loves.

you just told him how fun it is to be a civilian again. how it was so easy to fall back into the normalcy of a woman your age, amiably befriending the mothers at the park who shared their favourite recipes with you before ushering their chubby babes back home, or the butchers who were obviously trying to make you buy more cuts of meat than you needed, or even your short meeting with kate that had little substance as you two just fell into a quiet conversation about her wife.

it was a day full of banality, and you shared that with simon. but, somehow, something about it, about you, dragged his aches into the surface because the next thing you knew was that simon was slotting himself behine you, fitting you in the spaces of his arms, before breathing you in.

you stuttered out his name, only for your voice to warble even more when he rutted his hips along the plush of your ass, all purposeful and slow.

“si…” you gasped out, blinking the fog away.

this wasn’t the first time that simon and you fooled around, and you are sure that it would never be the last, but it was never this charged. it was never so—

intimate.

it always happened in quick bursts, like two beasts jumping at each other, snapping maws and showing fangs, like any sign of weakness would end with a throat ripped open. but never like this — at a safehouse, in clothes that are so ordinary that one would never mistake the two of you as spec-ops, and sensual.

it was never a needy rutting nor a slow fever.

it was always an all-consuming passion so this… carefulness left you—

well.

it left you aching.

like the rug had been ripped from underneath you, and you are thrusted into the abyss, only with the heat of simon’s body burning from where he’s caressed maps into your back.

“room,” you remember gasping out. you felt him nod before he planted a kiss on the side of your neck, making you jump, and then he was tugging the two of you to the bedroom.

then here you are now, by the door, watching as he dropped himself on his mattress, his scarred hands tearing into his buckles and his zipper before tugging his jeans down and leaving him bare while you remain there standing, heaving, and your eyes wide open as you drink him in.

“c’mere,” simon rumbles, his voice grave and heavy, and you follow his call because you are enchanted by him.

you fall to his lap, your dress ruffling as you scoot closer, closer, closer. you pause. simon clicks his tongue and pulls you even closer.

“s’right,” simon murmurs when your clothed cunt finally brushes against his leaking cock. “sit on it, pretty.”

he wraps you in his arms, and leaves searing kisses along the cut of your jaw and the slope of your cheek, and it is so, so drunken and clingy that you cannot help but mirror his affections. you cling onto his shoulders, nuzzling close, before humping at his cock, feeling its sticky pre- mussing the cloth of your panties.

“that’s it,” simon sighs, almost dreamily. “such a good wife f’r me.”

oh.

oh.

a mewl leaves your lips as your mind catches up to what made simon like this — you realize now that he’s envisioned something like this before. a life outside of the violence. a life where he dresses you up and you become his pretty wife; dolled up for him, cooking for him, coming home to him.

“yesss,” you keen. “thank you si.”

you hump at his cock faster, positioning yourself so that every brush of the head bumps into your hardening clit. “thank you, husband.”

simon’s hands clamp down on the meat of your ass, and he groans, loud and deep.

“gonna buy you a ring,” he grunts, his voice all sticky with his desire. “gonna make this permanent, baby.”

a soft hiccup leaves your lips, your eyelashes fluttering when he pulls back just enough to gaze up at you.

“y’would love that, won’t you?” he asks just for formality.

“yes,” you gasp out, feeling his hands slide underneath the skirt of your dress and into your panties, his palms rough against the fat of your ass. “love nothing more, si.”

his whole body shivers, like it is singing in pleasure, before he plants a chaste kiss on your lips.

“say i do.” his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in familiar circles.

you hiss for a second, your eyes shutting close at the muted pleasure racing across your nerves.

“so beautiful f’r me,” you hear him say, and it is so breathy that you almost miss it but his benevolence sticks to you and not even an orgasm feels as good as hearing his devotion so you look back at him, your trembling hands cupping his cheeks, before you finally whisper, “i do.”

you lock your vow with a kiss, this one more hungry as hot lips devour each other. and, like a good husband, simon makes love to you all night long.

[swagglessmoth]

My grades are suffering and so are they

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Sorry, it's me again! I't just that I really, really love your writing and I forgot to mention "Alley boyfriends" and "Alfred's Boy". If you could update either of those I would be very grateful <3 <3 <3

The first sign that something is wrong is finding Damian with a bow and arrow in the tallest room at Wayne Manor. Or, more specifically, seeing the boy aiming the arrow out the window in the direction of Dick and Danny cuddling in a backyard hammock.

Thankfully, he had been fast enough to snatch the arrow from the air before it went anywhere near the cuddling duo. Damian insisted he wasn't aiming for either of them- just the strings holding the hammock up.

The reason? Dick had gone over the agreed-upon cuddle time, and Damian wanted to make him stop. Bruce knew it was just because he was jealous.

Bruce had seen his youngest making doe eyes at Danny earlier that morning while the boy was doing his daily chores. He's been more energetic since Wes left and was willing to share his half-human status with the Wayne household after a talk with Alfred.

All of his children took the news well. They had many teammates who weren't human, but Bruce could tell Danny was still afraid to tell them the truth. Despite the many times Danny provided support in the Batcave and knew of said teammates, he still feared that he would be the exception to their acceptance.

It seemed his parents had left more prominent scars than Danny had been willing to show.

After a brief but vague- Alfred made it a point that his contact did not want Danny stating what he was until it was safe to do so- the Waynes got the gist that Danny needed cuddles.

Almost all his youngest had quickly offered their services, but Alfred and Bruce stopped it. The two men created a cuddling schedule, like a meal plan, to help Danny regain a healthier state, along with the few older ones, excluding Jason.

His second eldest had been highly offended to not be on the schedule, but Alfred calmed him with a whisper. "Think about how hilarious this will be to watch?" Jason had returned to his romance novel, cackling like a loon.

He was easy to manipulate.

Alfred forbade Bruce from telling Jason about Danny's slight crush. The reason was that Clockwork had already spoken to Alfred about it being a passing fancy, and it was safer for Danny's kind to not be rejected until later. Bruce burned with many questions, but he would never dare investigate Alfred or his affairs.

He respected him too much.

Now, if only his kids would behave.

"Damian Wayne, we do not shoot arrows at our siblings." Bruce scolds, wagging a finger at the boy's pouting face.

"But you let Drake throw a spoon at Girl Row!" Damian whines, crossing his arms. In moments like this, Bruce is violently reminded that for all his advanced vocabulary and intelligence, his son is still a fourteen-year-old teenager who could act childish.

"I did not let Tim do anything. He's ground for throwing things at Harper." Bruce sighs, rubbing his right temple. A pounding headache was starting to build up there. "Just because she came to watch Danny's cooking lesson with Tim and Cullen and chose to give Danny a quick snack with her hug does not mean Tim had a right to throw utensils."

"It wasn't even aimed at her head," Tim mutters from the hallway. His punishment for his behavior was that he was to stay within the six feet radius of Bruce. It was the only surefire way to ensure Tim wasn't up to something, like working on case work or plotting to overthrow a small government.

Bruce would break out the kid's leash if he tried to run again.

It was hilarious when Tim was thirteen, and the kid leash still had the same threat level at seventeen as it did then.

"That's another week," Bruce tells him.

"What!? I didn't even do anything!"

"Two weeks."

"Come on!"

"Three weeks." Bruce drawls, which causes Damian to smile until his father looks him in the eye. "I don't know why you seem too amused. You're grown for two weeks as well, young man."

Damian throws his arms up, wisely keeping his mouth shut as he steps with Tim. Now Bruce had two kids he couldn't let out of his sight, and they did something crazy. He marches them out of the room towards his office, where he plans on getting some work done and putting them both to do some extra class studying.

They pass by Jason, who looks like the cat that got the cream at their obvious grounding. He waves a couple of tickets in the air. "It seems like you brats are grounded. Too bad, I was about to invite you to show at the planetarium."

"Why would I waste my time there?" Damian scoffs as Tim glares. Bruce feels his headache growing stronger as Jason smugly proclaims.

"Danny is a huge star nerd. He was excited to finally see the show now that he was feeling better. He wanted us all to go together, but you'll have to miss it since you're still getting grounded at your age." Jason mocks, walking away while shaking his head. Bruce has only a few seconds to wonder why his second is like this, and then Tim and Damian explode with pleas to let them join the rest of the children.

He stays firm in their punishment, but he honestly doesn't feel safe by the way the two, right in front of him, start putting their difference aside and communicate with mere glances a plan of escape. Bruce wishes their corporation wouldn't come at the expense of his sanity.

He glances out the window, watching Dick and Danny talk, and it hits him suddenly that Dick is making that face he usually reserves for staring at baby ducks and baby elephants. His eldest was forming a deeper bond with the boy, which could mean several things, but the center of it all was what made him such a good leader.

Dick was breaching the walls Danny had built so strongly around him.

By tonight, Bruce would not be surprised if Dick started calling Danny his little brother. Coupled with the effort Jason put in to get Danny out of the house and around more people, the boy was healing in a way he so desperately needed.

He was so proud of them. Bruce is so glad the kids allowed him into their lives in moments like these. They saved him more times than he counted, and he does not, meanwhile, being Batman.

The kids saved Bruce Wayne, and he hopes they will save Danny Fenton similarly if the younger boy allows it. Not just because he's Alfred's boy but because he is a Wayne in a different shade.

Danny's face lights up with a smile, looking far more alive than ever before, and Bruce's eyes soften. Then they harden when he spots Steph creeping closer to the hammock from behind some bushes, a garden hose in her hand.

"No! No, no!" He shouts, running down the hallway with Tim and Damian behind. "Don't even think about it, young lady!"

[sightseertrespasser]

Reading all of the new Drift stuff for @keferon’s apocalyptic Ponyo made me think of an evil idea.

Ratchet is just taking care of Drift until he can reunite him with other humans right?

And that’s kinda the gist of the situation for all the mers with their humans. Return them to a larger group of humans.

What if the biggest group of human survivors are Drifts former poacher buddies?

Just making a pack of poachers an active threat in the ruins adds such a level of intrigue.

They'll absolutely hurt the mers and will either bully the humans into doing what they want or maybe outright kill them if they resist.

Just, Drift seeing them all again, frantically trying to explain that the mers ARE sentient and they have to stop now more than ever and the slow dawning dread that the poachers do not care.

The mers, everyone of them from Shockwave to Blurr, all go through the same bittersweet moment of thinking "Oh there's a large group of surviving humans. I guess this is where we say goodbye."

Except their humans are lingering.

Hesitant.

“Aww. They don’t want to leave. It’s okay, go be with your own kind now.” Tears and encouragement like it’s the ending of Free Willy in reverse.

Except, the mers’ humans start FREAKING out. At the mers.

Screaming and waving their arms, physically pushing them away, and these new humans. These poachers, are gunning for them all, weapons drawn.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Would love a chubby fem reader who comes across a hurt monster (whatever you feel like writing for) in the woods and helps it. In return the monster drags her back to his den and breeds her. 🫶🫶🫶

Ask, and you shall receive, dear reader!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 27: The Wounded Beast

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: creampie; inflation; mild gore; size difference; enthusiastic consent; pregnancy mention; human X feral (fantasy);

A/N: Sometimes when I write asking you folks to ask for what you want to read, I get requests in return! I'm aiming to write one of these a day for a whole year! If you have an idea, it's pretty likely to get made if you only ask!

#######################################

You've been ranging these woods for years, today you're tracking a poacher. Since the council made this section of forest a monster sanctuary, bandits kept marauding through, trying to nab a few illicit heads to turn in for bounties. This bastard was leaving traps. You know you'll still be finding them for weeks after you get him, even if they do make it comically easy to track his movements.

You hear a clang, then a yelll. You break into a sprint. The your soft body rolling as you barrel through the undergrowth and over roots. People expect a ranger to be swarthy and limber, not be 200 pounds and built to toss cabers. Always surprises them to get blindsided by a woman twice their size. You burst through to where you heard the trap, a small cleared patch. The bandit got there before you, poor fuck. He'd probably expected to get a hobgoblin or a lurker. Caught in the jaws of his trap was a minotaur, a big, ornery alpha male. This beastie is covered in blood, only some of it his. It's gnawing on a femur, torn from the bandit currently strewn around the glade.

A wounded minotaur is the most dangerous beast in these woods. Thankfully you know a few tricks from living out here. You took off your top, baring your big tits before stepping out, bowing low and mooing as best as you can. If it thinks you're a cow it won't attack you, at least until it figures out the ruse. You make it to the trap. It's a simple bear trap, normally used by fur trappers up North. Maybe he was from there? You press down on either side of it, forcing the jaws apart and getting the minotaur's hoof out before allowing it to snap shut again. You knelt and inspected the wound. The big brute was barely hurt. Minotaur skin is tough, and their bones are like iron. A quick strip of cloth to keep the wound clean and you're on your way. Not a moment too soon either, it sounds like he's nearly done with his bone and you don't want to be next on the menu.

You turn to leave. A huge hand closes around your ankle. Your blood runs cold.

The beast hefts you above its head, dangling you upside-down and staring into your eyes. You'd never seen a minotaur so close up. You can feel its hot breath on your face, the smell of blood and rotten meat making bile rise in your throat. With a snort, it tosses you over its shoulder. You shake with his steps, even built as you are, he's carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. Nothing challenges him as he carries you back to his den.

It's quiet. Normally a minotaur bull would have a harem of cows, each kept in a state of permanent pregnancy by his frequent rut. This one must be young, and decided you were convincing enough to take with him. You feel him moving you off his back, yelping as he drops you onto the threshed floor. The grass is warm on your back. He's above you, huffing and grunting as his cock edged out of its sheath, long and thick, a pronounced flare at the tip. From here you can see his balls, as big as apples, churning in anticipation.

When in Rome, as they say.

You reach out to the twitching cock in front of you and start rubbing the shaft. His grunts got faster as soon as you touched it, the lengthening cock in front of you responding. The flare bulges before you, ready to start rutting into you, but you'll need some more prep of you don't want to hurt yourself. You pull off your trousers and rub at your pussy, spreading the wetness around. You start licking his flare, getting as much spit and drool over it as you can. Every bit of lubrication will help, and the thick drops of precum rolling out of him are definitely going to help. You can feel yourself dripping your own juices, the sound of you fingering yourself mingling with his grunts. You're as ready as you'll ever be.

You pull away from his cock and turn around, bracing yourself on the cave wall and presenting your rear to him, you've seen minotaurs rutting before, but never imagined you'd be on the receiving end.

He gripped your waist, taking great handfuls of your supple flesh and lining himself up. You're on your tiptoes, and can tell he's aiming downwards to get at your pussy. You arch your back as he forces the flare in, stretching your cunt around it. You stay there a moment. This must be his first time, he's getting used to you before he fucks you properly. A roll of your hips reminds him what to do as he grips harder and lifts you up. You're pulled upright as he holds you above his cock, moaning as you're lowered down onto it. Your legs twitch as he hits your cervix, skewering you on his cock before lifting you up again. He's picking up speed, lifting and dropping you, using you like a cocksleeve to get off. Your hands aren't idle either. One is groping at your tits and the other rubbing your clit faster and faster, delighting in being filled so thoroughly. He drops you down hard, forcing the air out of you and bringing you to a gasping orgasm. You start squeezing with your pussy, desperate to feel him fill you with his cum. You don't have to work too hard. He grabs your tits as he leans over, keeping you pinned to his belly as his cock spurts straight into your womb. You can feel the huge flare plugging you up as he fills you. Your needy womb fills fast from the sheer volume he pumps into you, starting to bulge and distend as you cum again from the feeling of the hot seed pumping into you, jet after jet.

He keeps you clutched to him. The cock in you isn't deflating yet, still twitching and spurting occasionally, the volume of semen in you causing some to leak out around him. Your legs are dangling uselessly below you, you're held up entirely on his cock. You can feel it start to shift and retract. Pulling gently out until the flare comes out of you with an audible pop. A gush of thick cum and a gasp from you accompany it. He sits and lays your head in his lap, playing with your hair as his cum leaks out of your pussy.

Being a minotaur's wife doesn't seem so bad, on reflection

#####################################

And that's another one in the bag!

Again, if you want me to write anything, anything at all, ask, ask, ask! If you don't ask you might not get, and if you send an anon ask, you can get me to write as many as you like! I won't know it's the same person asking, now will I?

Also, do we prefer fantasy stories or sci fi? I can't guarantee the line won't blur occasionally, but it'll be nice to gauge interest

[superbat-lmao]

Pt. 2 of this (back by popular demand).

When Jason wakes the following morning he feels gross. His face is tacky and he’s smushed in an uncomfortable position where he feels like he’s rolled to the edge of his bed.

When he blinks up at Bruce, the events of the day before come crashing back with alarming clarity. He goes rigid and Bruce immediately opens his eyes to check on him, pulling back slightly to give him space.

And that makes Jason’s chest hurt. Because everything that had made him uncomfortable Bruce had fixed. Because Jason had been telling Bruce what he didn’t like about him the whole time.

Jason had started to like Batman. He’d gotten dry reports about life in the alley from the guy but he’d also gotten questions about what more could be done to help out alley kids. He’d taken all of Jason’s brash criticism and actually tried to fix things. Jason had started to really like the guy.

And to now be faced with the fact that it was Bruce, the guy who read like, an actual newspaper in the morning and asked about his interests like he was having teeth pulled, it still couldn’t quite compute.

Bruce couldn’t seem to figure out if Jason was comfortable on the cot, so Jason solved his problem for him by tucking his face back into his shoulder. He knew they would have to talk about it. How Jason had been kidnapped and watched his- watched Bruce get shot and then cried about it. But that conversation was going to be exhausting, and his body wasn’t sending him into a panic being this close to Bruce, so he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

Bruce seemed to get the message and started running his fingers through Jason’s hair again.

When Alfred came down with breakfast for the both of them, Jason knew his time was up. That they’d have to talk about it all. He wasn’t sure what they would do now that he knew, send him away? Or no, they’d need to make sure he never told anyone. Never let him leave?

Before Jason could spin out too badly, Bruce started explaining how he’d wanted to protect Jason by not telling him about his nightlife. How it was a dangerous secret to know since it could put people in danger.

Jason scoffed at that since he’d been abducted for his connections to Bruce Wayne, like that was any safer.

Bruce paled pretty quick at that but had that look on his face that said he was determined to get through this. Jason wondered which he actually preferred more, conversations or going to the dentist.

But Bruce continued to explain that he’d had concerns over Jason’s ability to trust adults and was entirely out of his depth on how to begin to repair that trust. That he thought Jason needed someone to talk to that would try and resolve his problems. And Batman could do what Bruce couldn’t. He had been scared Jason would run if he couldn’t convince him it would be safe, and that scared Bruce most of all.

And Jason had to acknowledge that Bruce wasn’t entirely wrong. He probably would have run if Batman hadn’t been checking up on him, at least in the beginning. Because Bruce didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t like any of the other adults Jason knew. His body wouldn’t calm down even if he knew he was safe, and he probably would have run from that feeling.

Most importantly, Bruce apologizes. For keeping secrets and also for getting shot in front of him in a “sorry you had to see that” sort of way.

And yeah, Jason could’ve done without watching the guy that’s almost his Dad get shot in front of him, but it wasn’t really anyone’s fault.

And Jason, like a dork, apologizes for crying on him and not being able to handle it.

That makes Bruce’s face do something complicated that Jason had a hard time reading.

Bruce tells him that it isn’t actually normal to not react to someone being shot in front of you. Especially for a child, crying is a very normal response and nothing to be ashamed of.

Jason comes to an odd realization that he isn’t the first kid to know Bruce’s identity. He remembers talk in the alley of Robin, the flashy distraction to Batman’s silent stalker approach.

He asks Bruce if Robin was Dick Grayson, his ward. The supposed “brother” he had yet to meet. He wasn’t sure what Bruce was waiting for there, but he supposed if the man wasn’t even sure if Jason actually wanted to stay that it would be fair that he was cautious about introducing him to everyone.

Bruce’s face shuts down almost entirely at the mention of Dick. He seems to catch himself pretty quick though and picks a spot over Jason’s shoulder as he starts to explain the last time he talked to Dick outside of mask business. How scared he had been his- his ward would be hurt. How he’d fired him from being Robin. How he’d gone off to Bludhaven to be Nightwing. That Bruce hadn’t seen him since he left.

Jason takes in as much of it as he can. He can’t quite process what it would mean to be a vigilante, to be Robin. He still feels dazed from yesterday and the environment of the cave is strange and foreign.

He asks what the plans for the day are and Bruce huffs. Says that he’s on strict orders from Alfred for bed rest. That there will be conversations, a debrief, about what had happened, but that can wait a few days. They will also have to talk about formalizing Jason’s living situation here and registering him for school. All sorts of things, if Jason would like to stay.

And Jason does.

Later, Alfred comes in to re-wrap Bruce’s bandages and move him upstairs. Jason hovers awkwardly, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. Alfred gently directs him in helping get Bruce back to the living room. He says they can move him to his bedroom later but it’ll be easier on his mobility if he stays on the first floor for a while.

Alfred also informs them he had taken the liberty to inform Dick, Barbara, and Clark of the incident, so there will be patrol while Bruce’s shoulder is healing. Bruce goes rigid at this information.

Alfred asks if Jason will accompany him to the kitchen and help carry out their lunch.

When they’re alone, Alfred apologizes for keeping their identities from Jason, and how happy he is the boy is safe. He’d been so concerned yesterday at the car but hadn’t had time to do more than bug the vehicle.

They talk for a bit about identities and Jason accepts that it was kept from him, but now that he knows, he’ll stay in the loop.

Alfred also asks if he wouldn’t mind helping keep an eye on Bruce and make sure he doesn’t try and sneak back down to the cave without medical clearance. If he’d be alright to watch a movie in the living room with him, or a board game maybe.

Jason recognizes the ploy for what it is and plays along, grateful he doesn’t have to go worry by himself in his room or in the library.

When they bring the food out to the living room, Alfred shows Jason their selection of movies and makes sure they’re settled in before going off to take care of dishes.

Jason and Bruce start out sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but by the end of the second movie, Jason is stretched out in a way where they’re almost touching, a pile of pillows separating them.

Jason falls asleep during the third movie.

Dick arrives at the manor halfway through the fourth.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 (sold separately)

[lanternlit]

happy pride month for the entire queer community but especially my fellow aroallos! my aromantic pan/poly/omni/bisexuals, aromantic lesbians and gays, aromantic heterosexuals (you belong here), aromantic polyamorous and kinky peers (you belong here, annual havu reminder that in this house we acknowledge that kink belongs at pride)!

[kazhanko-art]

it’s cool that now when the US government is very publicly trying to exploit Ukraine, force their democratically elected leader out, continuously threaten Ukraine, and go against the will of the Ukrainian people, you hear jack shit from the people who claimed that’s what’s been going on since 2014

[shieldmaiden-tabris]

Alright at this point no Star Wars writer other than Timothy Zahn should be allowed to touch Thrawn in current canon. Don't look at him, don't think about him, none of that. Don't even breathe in the blue man's direction. If you don't understand the fundamentals of his character, namely the primary force that drives and motivates him to do things, then do not have him do things!!! Create your own character to be the big bad!! Leave him alone.

[a-bugs-world]

i am so positively (NOT) normal about them!!

FunnyBunny shippers (ME) were fed so well with the new episode i kept having to pause to squeal

" You threw me out of a moving truck. :| "