#I might write for them

[selineram3421]

Sigh..

I have a confession to make.

At first I wasn't i to this fandom. Played the game like once or twice and was like: Cool. The fox is my favorite.

Then just brushed it aside and only watched the gameplays. Wasn't into it much.

Until..

.

.

.

Assholes brought in fucking Astronomical Characters!

Read the tags for more lol.

I'll roll myself into a burrito now and crawl away.

[tacticalprincess]

simon and könig being unable to stop bickering for a second, even when they’re balls deep inside of you. they’ve got you in an Eiffel Tower, könig’s cock filling your glossy pussy while simon stuffs your mouth. it took ages of convincing for them to even consider this position, but eventually they decided to put their discrepancies aside for the sake of you, their precious, spoiled little thing. it didn’t last very long though…

“jackhammer much, mate? you’ve got her choking on me over here.” simon points out, his heavy hand stroking your hair soothingly. könig’s using your hips as leverage, bucking into you at a rabid pace, each of his thrusts lurching your body forward and forcing you to take more of simon’s dick down your poor throat. “what happened to treatin’ the princess with care?”

“it’s okay, she likes it. isn’t that right, maus?”

your cheeks warm up as you hum around simon’s dick noncommittally. nothing gets passed the l.t though, and suddenly he’s gripping you by your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock.

“wait, you let him fuck your face?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended.

you wipe the line of spit that trails from your swollen lips all the way to his still hard dick, hovering just out of reach. you huff. “he’s more sadistic than you…” you say sheepishly in response, voice staccato from könig’s thrusts.

“you tellin’ me i’m the soft sex guy? the aftercare fuck?”

“‘s alright, mate.” könig reaches over your naked body to pat his comrade on the shoulder. “youve got boyfriend dick. happens to the best of us.”

[corantus]

butch nonspecific bean bag bears. they should let me design toys for children actually

their names are handy, married, grease, and freak ❤️

[artist-rat]

fine dining at the blushing mermaid. with the boogieboys

[eddiestommy]

wait so apparently some people get mad if someone else writes fanfiction based on headcanons they shared on tumblr??? so now i got to ask

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids until they had found deviancy enough to pursue their own projects. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar, but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[unicornpopcorn14]

Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt during the Lovecraft fight has always been so interesting to me...

Because it's the kind of worry you'd never expect from a character as gruff as Chuuya, who had displayed nothing but hostility towards Dazai so far. Usually, characters that are labelled as "angry" or "anger issues" (which Chuuya is much more complex than that but you get my point) act more as a tsundere type of way when the one they "don't care about" gets hurt. And show their care in very, very subtle ways (ex. their eyes widen, their mouth parts and closes again, etc) before putting up their front once more.

Chuuya, however, is open, and vocal about it. His worry is clear not only to us, but to Dazai himself, the one he shouldn't be displaying the concern to (as per the cliche). Shouldn't it be some sort of secret that Chuuya does care? Isn't that what skk's dynamic has been shaping up to be until now?

I'm telling you- the way my mind blanked when Chuuya just casually.... showed concern not once, but twice, was a sight to see.

Besides, the context makes it much more confusing, because Dazai isn't some rookie, and Chuuya knows that more than anybody. He was the youngest executive in Port Mafia's history, of course he can handle a hit or two. Of course he'd seen him handle a hit or two, sometimes without batting an eye.

Heck, Chuuya himself was hurling Dazai like a ragdoll in their reunion, which was their last meeting. And you could argue that he was going easy on him, but Dazai has mostly withstood the same damage (as far as I could see), and Chuuya was as bitter as ever.

So that kind of contradicts both what we knew of Chuuya so far, and how their dynamic was shaped to be. I mean, that just makes Chuuya a hypocrite, yeah? What makes him care now, all of a sudden? What makes him care at all?

Well, to me, this backasswards reaction implies one (or more) of the following:

- Dazai rarely got physically hurt during their partnership and thus this is an unexpected thing for him to see (during a mission).

- The four years of separation made Chuuya unsure of how much Dazai can withstand physically now. Also the fact that he isn't in the mafia anymore, aka fighting enemy organizations on the weekly, would naturally make Dazai lose his touch in a way, what prompts Chuuya's reaction.

- Dazai getting taken off guard took him off guard which led to panic. Especially since the situation was (momentarily) out of their depth. Seriously wtf even was Lovecraft?

- During the dungeon scene Dazai was an enemy, while in the Lovecraft fight he was as an ally. The difference might be significant to Chuuya.

- This has always been Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt regardless of the situation.

- "Only I can hurt him like that" ahh logic

- Asagiri was still experimenting with their dynamic and thus there are some inconsistencies.

This scenario didn't play out again (after their reunion) for me to exactly determine which one is more plausible, but it is 100% canon for Chuuya to shamelessly show his concern and run to Dazai to check on him before properly dealing with their opponent, which I find to be such an appealing layer to their dynamic, and a good spin on the type of character he gets stereotyped as.

Bonus: Dazai also becomes a softy when Chuuya's hurt, especially post corruption. Dead Apple alone displays that multiple times.

All in all, Skk are doing a terrible job at maintaining their 'hostile' and 'antagonistic' relationship post their reunion. Freaks.

[braxiatel]

Enough grumbo AUs where Mumbo is a diehard Ariana Griande fan. More grumbo AUs where global musical sensation Ariana Griande is absolutely obsessed with this little freak of a man she found under a rock one time

[mangostarjam]

silent reading time — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, biting, 1.4k words

Hoshina Soshiro is staring at your thighs.

... you think.

It's hard to tell, since you aren't looking at him. Quick, fleeting glances out of the corner of your eye aren't enough to discern the true aim of his line of sight, but it really kinda looks like... he's looking at your thighs.

Why, though?

It's just a typical weekday night. You dropped by his room the way you have for the past twenty-odd years, holding a paperback book with a purple pen tucked behind your ear, ready to indulge in your favorite pastime of silent reading in your best friend's company. Soshiro has his own paperback in hand, green pen spinning around his fingers. The two of you jot little notes as you read, and once you finish you swap books. Later, you'll go to one of your favorite cafes together to talk about them. Soshiro's neat scrawl is as familiar to you as the back of your own hand.

For a brief moment you debate calling him out on his staring. But — nah, it's probably nothing. Maybe your pajama shorts are a little worn and he's just appalled you're wearing something so flimsy.

"What's up, beansprout?"

You glance up from the words you haven't been reading and meet your best friend's gaze. "Huh?"

Soshiro closes his book but keeps his finger tucked to hold his place. His green pen spins in a blur. "You've been starin' at that page for ages. You sleepy or somethin'?"

"Nooo..." you draw out the word as you think of something to say. "Just wondering if I should get new pajamas."

Well — you didn't call him a creep, but now he's blatantly staring at your thighs and maybe this is... worse? You can feel a flush rising up your body at his scrutiny.

"What's wrong with these?"

"... Nothing?"

Soshiro gives you a doubtful look and before you have a chance to retreat, he's caught you against the bed, pinning you down with his elbows on either side of your shoulders. Your books and pens go flying across the mattress, landing with a thunk and a clatter as the room settles back to stillness. The sudden proximity of him looming above you takes your breath away. You squirm a little at the abrupt weight. Soshiro chuckles, his breath warm by your ear as his legs press yours into the mattress.

"Tell me, egg tart."

He's close enough that the strands of his purple hair tickle your forehead. You know you have no chance of getting away from the Vice Captain of the Third Division in close quarters, but you wiggle half-heartedly anyway. "Get off of me, you big oaf!"

"Oh? That's not very nice," Soshiro's grin is playful. He eyes you for a second, and then he pouts. "I just wanna know what's runnin' through that pretty lil head."

Well that's just unfair. He knows you're weak to him when he makes that face. You scrunch your nose at him and giggle when he mimics you. He's steady, hovering above you, as if it's nothing for him to basically hold a modified plank pose on the soft surface of his mattress. Something about that makes you feel... a little warm.

But he's your best friend. You've known him since you were toddlers, training in swordsmanship together at the Hoshina estate, following him into the Defense Force until you hit a wall and pivoted to research instead — you know Hoshina Soshiro, and he does not make you feel warm like this.

You gather your wits about you slowly, like your braincells are moving through molasses. Soshiro seems content to hold his position, familiar grin still firmly in place. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the careful way he keeps from squishing you entirely, even though he's stopping you from running away from the question.

"It's really nothing, promise," you say, "I just thought maybe you kept looking at my pajamas because they're so old."

There's a moment of silence as Soshiro digests this. You listen to him breathing above you, the thick fabric of his sweats warm where his legs press into your bare skin, the overhead light haloing his purple strands and casting his carefully blank expression in a faint shadow.

"Dontcha think you're a lil too comfy 'round me?" His voice comes out low, almost missed beneath the sound of your rapidly accelerating heartbeat. "I'm a man, too, y'know."

You blink. Soshiro's now wearing the vaguely amused smile he always seems to have on when you're around, but there's something lingering along the edges that sends a shiver up your spine.

Forget molasses. Your brain shuts down entirely, bluescreening as you frantically try to reconcile his words and his meaning and why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to — to eat you, to swallow you whole — and why does he keep glancing at your lips? Do you have something between your teeth?

But, no, wait — Soshiro is a man. You know this. You've known this for ages. It's impossible to train with the strongest close quarters combatant in the entire Defense Force and not realize this simple fact. You've seen Soshiro take down more miniature and mid-sized kaiju than you can count, and he's a brilliant leader of his platoon and division. Everyone respects him and works hard to live up to his expectations, though you know he works three times as hard in the shadows.

Your childhood friend is certainly not a child any longer. One glance at the densely packed muscle on Soshiro's body is enough proof of that. You peek at his biceps tensing as he shifts above you and gulp.

Yeah, he's definitely a man.

But what does that have to do with anything...?

"Of course I'm comfy with you, Soshiro-kun," you say. Why does your voice sound like that? All... breathy and soft? You clear your throat and try to inject some normalcy in your tone. "You're my best friend! You'd tell me if my pajamas are too worn out, right?"

Soshiro just looks at you blankly. This is where he's supposed to crack a joke, this is where he flicks your forehead and calls you 'sugarplum' and rolls off of you, this is not where he suddenly leans down close enough that you can feel his breaths puff against your ear before everything narrows down to the singular point on your neck where he bites you.

"S-Soshiro-kun, what the hell?!"

"What's wrong? We're best friends, ain't we?"

"Yeah, but why'd you bite me?"

Soshiro's laugh is pressed into your neck like honey dripping from the comb. He's not... He hasn't moved away. You haven't moved away.

You could. He's left you room to move.

But you don't.

It's warm. His legs are still pressing against yours. The faintly woodsy smell of him is all around you, seeping into your skin as you shift amidst his blankets. "No reason," he says airily, lips brushing your temple as he brings himself to hover above you again. "Just takin' advantage of my best friend privileges."

"By... biting me?"

"By showin' ya I'm comfy 'round you, too."

The tension pops. You can't help but laugh, something like relief and the bittersweet tinge of regret flushing through your bloodstream. "What are you, an animal? Who the heck bites people and calls it comfortable?"

"Are ya uncomfy?"

"Well, no, but—"

"I've always wanted to bite you," Soshiro says. You can read the truth in the curve of his smile as his purple strands waver above you. "Ya look like you'd taste good, chestnut."

"That's it," you wrinkle your nose at him. "You've gotta come up with other nicknames for me, or else you'll keep thinking of me as food!"

Soshiro hums in thought. You can feel the sting and the faint imprint of teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck. Something about it makes you feel fuzzy inside, like a tv antenna struggling to search for a signal. You shift anxiously as the silence stretches, yearning for something unknown.

"No can do," he says brightly. His red eyes gleam as he leans down again. "But we're comfy with each other, yeah? Want me to inspect these old pjs for ya?"

The blush blooms beneath your skin with a force that startles you. "Uh, what—? No, Soshiro-kun, definitely not—"

He grins and it's bright, but a little strained. You reach up unthinkingly to cup his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs along his jawline and cheekbones and smiling when he leans into the touch. The knot in your chest loosens. The two of you bask in the comfort of each other for a moment.

"You should really tell me off," he breathes, tilting his head. "You should tell me ta quit messin' around."

"Are you messing around?" you ask.

Soshiro laughs, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. "I'm never messin' around when it comes to you."

[a-dope-fiend]

It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.

His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.

He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.

[egophiliac]

so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

[choccy-milky]

congrats on baby #2!🥰👍 part 2 to this post bc seb is a smug ass bitch when it comes to getting clora pregnant. and ty @rednite-dork for sending me the original pic ages ago LMFAO... i knew as soon as i saw it that i had to redraw it eventually 👼

[the-scarecrow-of-aus]

Time limits and being late for dinner

Danny, pinned down by gunfire on top of a wounded red hood who caught him in his territory and chased him into a rivals warehouse:

"Hey hood, soo... hypothetically, if I was to remove your helmet how long is the detonation trigger?"

Jason starting to lose conciousness and slur from blood loss:

"Like half a second after it triggers, it'll blow before you can clear my head, why?"

"Cool, that gives me half a second to see why my sister is obsessed with your ugly ass!"

"What? Wait... who's your sis-"

*grabs Jason's head by the helmet and phases it straight off and through his body using the momentum to throw it towards a group of shooters in a single move*

[There's a loud bang and the shooters duck for cover as two go down screaming from the shrapnel]

"-ter... hey! How'd you do that?"

"Ugh, I was right, you remind me of Johnnie. Oh well, c'mon man, well be late. Not something you want to experience when jazz is waiting"

"Jazz... Wait! Are you kidding me, the bookworm Jazz, is your sister?"

Danny braced his arms across hoods chest under the arms like they were floating in water and leaned backwards, red hood and himself suddenly unburdened by gravity slid through the wall covering their backs and disappeared from sight (if not sound as Jason dazedly kept commenting on the cute girl he'd mistaken for babs and if she actually liked him back)

They were late, jazz was definately gonna be mad!

[joelscruff]

you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+

welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/ i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy! summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link

"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."

"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."

He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.

Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.

"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.

"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"

You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.

One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.

You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.

"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.

"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"

"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."

You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.

"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"

"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."

He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.

"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"

"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."

You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.

"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.

"Tell me," he whispers.

"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.

He smirks, "Yeah you are."

You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.

"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."

After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.

"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"

"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."

He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."

There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.

"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."

He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"

You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"

He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"

You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."

"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."

You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.

He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."

"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."

"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."

You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.

Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.

"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."

"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."

"That's right."

"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."

"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."

He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."

"Yes it-"

"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.

"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"

"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."

"We don't-"

"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."

His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.

"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.

He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."

You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."

"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."

You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.

"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."

You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.

Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.

"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."

He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.

He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.

"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."

Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.

"Good girl," he murmurs.

this is now a series, and other parts can be found on my masterlist.

[mikakuna]

nothing would be funnier than the bats universe-hopping and finding all these different versions of jason, and shoving in their jason's face that these alternate jasons would not agree with his fatal treatment of criminals (because some of them look straight up happy and have great relationships with bruce + the others).

but then to everybody's surprise, each jason has their own variation of their jason's methods. they literally all have similar opinions, even the ones who didn't die at the joker's hands. some were robin and some were never robin, some were adopted by bruce and others weren't, some lived worse lives than their jason and others lived much better lives-- but they all became their own version of red hood either way.

and jason is just absolutely having the best time looking at the bats' disappointed faces

[peteytheparrot]

Ok I enjoy Billford as like, toxic yaoi, but if we were to be serious about this for a second like- Ok, Ford IS an abuse victim, straight up, it’s pretty much in canon. When Ford didn’t do what Bill said he tortured the ever loving shit out of him, showing Ford that he can make him feel unimaginable pain if he wanted to. When Ford finds his family reading The Book of Bill he’s terrified, but he just finds them all laughing about it. Of course he’s still terrified of Bill even after his death, he went through hell with that triangle, but now he’s realizing that he’s not a ‘God’ that was above him, he’s just some loser, Bills a loser, that beat the shit out of Ford for no good reason because he had the power too. Bill is also just messed up in the head, he burned down his own dimension and is terribly lonely and fucked up from that all, so he gets attached to Ford. So when that doesn’t go his way he just gets angry by it all and immediately does the one thing he’s best at which is destroying everything. He calls what burns down his home ‘a monster’ because that’s all he sees himself as now, a monster. Bro NEEDS therapy and the Axolotl knows this. (Ford also probably needs therapy ngl ☠️)

DOES ANY OF THIS MAKE SENSE HELP I DIDNT REREAD THE BOOK FOR THIS ☠️