#and some things are old favorites but others are works I may like enough but not love or am neutral about

[lightsonparkave]

how do you choose the theme and compile the prompts for each months of LoPA?

Thanks for asking! For themes, I go with concepts that both intrigue me and are broad enough that I won't have trouble finding prompts and I feel give space for different interpretations and approaches. I also have a list of themes that I came up with a few years ago and add onto it whenever a theme comes to mind. I peruse that list if I'm not quite sure yet what the next round will be. If I get struck with sudden inspiration, though, I typically go with the theme that just came to me for the next month.

Seasonality frequently comes into play too. Certain times of the year I feel are ripe for contemplating certain ideas and being in certain moods, so you can see connections between some rounds across different years! This helps me figure out rounds ahead of time, though I almost always end up scrambling last minute each month despite that haha. I tend to get distracted by my prompt search.

Speaking of which, if I see something that would make a great prompt, I save it. I rummage through that collection every time I need to make a new round. That never gets old because even if I had a theme in mind for that prompt, while I sort through my likes and drafts, I may see that prompt in a different light because I realize it suits the round I'm hunting prompts for.

This is also why it takes me hours to put a list together even if I have that treasure box to sift through as well as things I come up with that I think will be good ideas to start a search. You'd think I'd learn by now to spread this process out throughout the month instead of scrambling last minute, but no. :') It's fun, though, because I not only revisit works that I've gone through, but I get to go down rabbit holes as well. I use the works as starting points and go down different branches, or I have keywords in mind that I use to see what turns up. I've been introduced to a handful of new writers, artists, musicians, and other creative individuals and thinkers and works that way, and my Steve/Tony and LoPA mind never shuts off entirely when I look at new things so when I'm experiencing something new, there are a lot of times when I think "THAT'S STEVE/TONY" or "how can this be Steve/Tony?" haha.

I love looking at a variety of sources for creative inspiration although weirdly enough, I tend not to draw on them while I write. I guess I just like looking at shiny baubles and the act of curating and sharing my finds! But the whole reasoning behind LoPA's existence and what inspired me to start it are a whole different story and this is about process so I'll stop here.

[neckromantics]

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

-

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker. 

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

[straykeedz]

Thinking about Chan taking you on the backseat on your weekly night drive after you confess some dirty thoughts you have about him

(May I be 🎀 anon??)

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ; 𝐛𝐜

thank you so much for your request, hope you like it! ♡ 🎀 is not free, but you can claim another emoji! check out which emojis are already taken! ♡

𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; fingering (f receiving) ; handjob (kinda) ; protected sex (shocking, i know) ; clit play ; dirty talking ; they're in love your honour ; ♡

𝐰𝐜: 2,7k ♡

The parking lot is empty - Chan stops the car and turns the engine off. 

“We’re here, baby.”

It’s your favorite time of the week, when you can finally spend some time together and be yourselves - catching up with what’s going on in your life, updating each other about work and other boring, mundane stuff, and also gossiping. You don’t need fancy dinners or eye-catching acts or ridiculously expensive gifts - having milkshakes and donuts in his car, with some music softly playing in the background and his hand on your thigh is more than enough. 

“You didn’t have to pay for all this, you know?” You tell him, pointing at the paper bag in your hands with a nod. 

He chuckles, tonguing his cheek. “It’s just milkshakes and a couple of donuts. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spoil my girl?”

You roll your eyes at him. “As if you don’t spoil me enough already,” you shake your head. “But really, you don’t have to. You know I feel bad when you pay for my stuff.”

Chan works a part-time job and is also a college grad, which means his finances are a bit… tight, at the moment, and you do feel guilty when he buys you stuff - even if it’s just donuts and a milkshake. It’s not like you don’t try to pay for your things, because you do - he’s just incredibly fast at pulling out his credit card. 

“I love spoiling you, though. Honestly, I’d pay for more of your stuff if I had the money,” he chuckles. “Now let’s drink the milkshakes before the cream melts.”

The moon shines bright up in the sky, lighting up your surroundings delicately. Chan drives you always to the same place and parks the car in the same spot - it’s quiet and intimate, and no one’s ever around. Most of the nights, you’d just chill in his car and just talk about everything and nothing at the same time - other nights, he’d lower your seat and make sweet love to you in his old car, way too small to fit the both of you but hey, at least it’s an excuse to be even closer. Like that time he was all over you, inside of you, with his body pressed tightly on yours - only a soft blanket covering both of your naked bodies as whimpers and moans filled the cramped up space of the small vehicle. 

“Earth to y/n?” Chan giggles, waving his hand in front of your face. You rapidly blink a couple of times and shake your head, finally turning to look at him. “Whatcha thinking of, baby?” 

“Oh…” you blush a little, “nothing in particular.”

“Oh, really?” He teases you, placing his hand on your thigh, stroking it with his thumb. “Because I know you, I know there’s something on your mind.” He comes closer, brushing your nose with his, and you feel his hot breath on your skin. You shiver. 

“There’s nothing on my mind,” you place your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and smiling at him. “‘M just happy to be here, with you.”

“Hm, is that why your face is so red?” He looks into your eyes as he speaks - he always does this when he wants to tease you, and it’s working. “Is it because you’re happy to be here with me?”

His fingers on your thigh, his hot breath on your skin - and he’s so, so close. Just an inch or two away from your lips. You bet he tastes of his strawberry milkshake - you can’t wait to find out if you’re right. 

“I… I was thinking about…” your mouth falls open and your eyes flutter when his lips find your jaw - he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your skin, sometimes running his hot, wet tongue all over it. He chuckles when a tiny yelp leaves your mouth after he sucks on a precise spot on your neck. 

“You were saying?” He breathes against your neck, rubbing circles on your thigh with his thumb. “‘M sorry, I distracted you, baby,” he teases you, but won’t stop kissing you, “you were thinking about…?”

“About what… what happened the last time we were here,” you breathe out at the feeling of Chan’s hand moving up your thigh, closer and closer to the spot between your thighs he knows very well. 

His heart skips a beat, and he feels himself growing harder inside his boxers. “Oh, yeah? And what are you thinking of, exactly? I’m curious now.”

You entangle your fingers in his curly, dark hair, pulling him closer as you finally feel his thumb brush the center of your thigh, right on your clothed clit, just teasing you with the tip of his finger. He brushes your hair from your shoulder, guaranteeing himself more access to your now exposed neck, moaning against your skin. A Chase Atlantic’s song is still playing in the background, and the car windows are slowly fogging up due to yours and Chan’s heavy breathing. 

“I was thinking of your fingers. Of when… of when you touched me,” you mumble, relaxing completely under his touch, “I was thinking that maybe it’d be nice if you…” you tug at his hair, and he grunts against your skin, sucking on your clavicle. 

“If I?” He presses a little bit harder on your clit. 

“If you did it again?” It comes out as a question, and Chan can’t help but smirk at that. 

“Yeah? You want me to touch you here?” Chan mumbles, his fingers moving up to toy with the button of your jeans. You nod, and he undoes it. “What else were you thinking about?” He unzips your fly, revealing a small portion of the fabric of your panties. 

And then, his fingers slip under the waistband of your lace panties, and you gasp. 

“Just-just that…” you try to sound convincing, but your red cheeks and your stuttering are exactly what give you away. 

“Ah, just that… Are you sure?” you hiss when his fingers brush your clit with a delicacy he’s always had towards you - then, he touches your wet entrance, and licks his lips. If the space weren’t so little, he’d already be on his knees eating you out like a starved man until you’re creaming on his tongue. “You’re so wet, oh baby…” you whine when he pushes his middle finger inside. 

“I… there’s other things I think of, sometimes,” you confess, and Chan finally pulls away from your neck to look you in the eye. His lips are swollen, and his pupils are blown. You run your hand up and down his arm, feeling him up and squeezing his muscles. 

“Yeah?” His lips finally brush yours, but he doesn’t kiss you yet, “will you tell me about these things?” Chan asks, and you nod.

When he finally kisses you, you inevitably smile against his lips because yes, his lips truly taste like his strawberry milkshake. He kisses you and kisses you, running his tongue along your lower lip, whimpering when you do the same. Chan adds another finger inside of you, and slowly begins to pump them in and out of you. He nearly jumps in his seatwhen, all of a sudden, he feels your hand on his crotch, palming his erection. 

“I… I think about giving you head. About… wrapping my lips around you,” you mumble on his lips, and Chan’s eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead on yours - his heart is beating fast inside his chest. 

“Oh, God,” Chan kicks his head slightly back as you start kissing his neck. “What… what else?”

“You…” you slip your hand under the waistband of his dark grey sweats, squeezing him though his boxers, “you fucking me in the backseats. I’m talking - hot, desperate, needy sex. Right here, where e-everyone could see.” 

“Fuck, you want me dead,” he hisses, fucking you a bit faster with his fingers, curling them inside of you and toying with your clit at the same time. “When… when do you think about these things?” 

“When- when I’m getting off,” you admit, and Chan lets out a guttural moan. 

“Yeah?” He squeezes his eyes when your fingers brush the tip of his clothed cock. “You think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Always,” you whimper on his lips. “I always think of you.”

“Me too,” he blurts out in a huff, completely lost in what you two are doing now, “I a-always think of you when ‘m gettin’ off. Always cum so hard, too.” 

Chan is losing his mind, he literally can’t think straight - mostly because there’s no blood left in his brain, but also because you’re so hot and you’re telling him all these filthy things and he’s weak. He wants nothing more than to lift your hoodie and free your pretty tits and take them in his mouth. It’s when you finally touch him properly, freeing him from his boxers and wrapping your fingers around his thickness, that he pulls away abruptly after you’ve stroked him a couple of times. 

“‘M not- ‘m gonna cum if you do that, I swear,” he mumbles, blushing out of embarrassment as he pulls your hand out of his sweats, “I wanna- wanna make love. D’you want to?” 

He’s always so romantic, your Chan. Even if he’s rearranging your guts, he always calls it making love. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I want to,” you kiss him once again, pecking his lips a couple of times. You wrap your hand around his wrist and pull his hand out of your panties. Then, you begin to pull your jeans down your thighs and undress yourself. 

It doesn’t take long before the both of you find yourselves in the backseats - Chan on top of you still fully dressed while you only have your hoodie and your soaked panties on, and he’s palming himself over his boxers.

“Lemme see your tits, please,” he’s almost begging, and he bites his lip when you slowly lift your hoodie and top, revealing your boobs to his eyes. “Oh. Oh, baby. You’re so damn perfect, oh.”

You pull him in for a kiss, but you still feel him fidgeting with his sweats. He slides down the curve of his ass rather quickly, pulling them down enough to free his cock and balls. The car windows are completely fogged up by now, “Moonlight” by Chase Atlantic starts playing. 

“Do you have a condom?” You mumble on his lips, wrapping your fingers around the tip of his cock and stroking him gently, slowly. He shivers under your touch, but still nods at you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he pecks your lips, then stretches his arm to grab his jeans jacket, pulling out a small foil wrapper from one of the pockets. “Don’t wanna put any risk on you,” he kisses the tip of your nose. 

He tears the wrapper open and carefully positions the rubber on his cock, rolling it onto his length in a matter of seconds. Is it weird that you’re turned on by watching him performing such a mundane action? You don’t know, but you can’t tear your eyes off of his hands and, consequently, his hard cock, licking and then biting your lip. He’s between your legs in a matter of seconds, pulling your lace panties to the side and positioning himself at your entrance. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice these,” he mumbles, toying with the hem of your underwear - his favorite. “You’re so hot, baby. Makin’ yourself pretty for me all the time, ‘m so lucky. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, and then he’s pushing himself inside of you. 

A choked moan leaves your lips as you feel him filling you up with his length slowly. He grips your hip as he does, intertwining his fingers with yours as he bottoms out inside of you, letting out a desperate whine because God, he missed this. Not just the sex, he missed feeling you so close. He lifts his own t-shirt too, and then he presses his now bare chest on yours, feeling your skin on his in a way that has his head spinning. When you latch your lips on his neck and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him even closer, he shudders as he starts to move inside of you. 

“Chan…” you mumble on his skin, running your fingers up and down his back. 

“Baby,” he moans as well, thrusting at an excruciatingly slow pace, just to feel you around him - your hole gripping him tight as he fucks into you, hips rocking back and forth ever so gently, but it doesn’t stop the car from rocking as well. 

If anyone were to pass by right now, they’d surely figure out what’s going on - neither of you care. You only care about Chan, and he only cares about you. 

“You feel so- so amazing, baby,” he pulls a couple of strands of hair from your face, looking into your eyes as he continues to fuck you - his eyes are sparkling, there’s a light in them you only see whenever he’s looking at you. “’m so… so lucky you’re mine. My baby.”

“And you’re mine,” you whimper on his mouth, rocking your hips as well to meet his movements. You love him, you love him so much. 

The pace of Chan’s thrusts becomes quicker and quicker - he places the palm of his hand on the fogged up car window, leaving his print there as he angles his hips so that he’s hitting your g-spot with every thrust. “Yeah, yeah, I’m… ‘m yours, baby. Yours. No one else’s, promise you. Yours. ” 

His mouth falls open, choked grunts and desperate whimpers are the only thing that fall from it as he feels himself getting closer and closer. He hides his face in your neck, squeezing his eyes and leaving a series of wet kisses on your collarbone. 

“O-open up, baby,” Chan whimpers, bringing two of his hands to your lips. You accept them into your mouth, coating them in your own spit, and after Chan makes sure they’re moisturized enough, he pulls them out and slides his hand between your legs, touching your clit. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you think of when you pleasure yourself. I wanna know everything.”

“I think of- of you fucking me raw,” you blush like crazy, and Chan gulps as his eyes widen. “I think about… about letting you cum inside. About you filling me up, Channie.”

“Oh, fuck, you- you… you drive me crazy, you know that? Love you so fuckin’ much.”

His thrusts turn sloppy as he rubs your clit the way you like it - his touch is delicate and intense at the same time, not too light and not too rough. Your legs begin to shake in mere seconds, and you can feel the familiar feeling burning in your stomach - you whine and take deep breaths as he keeps rubbing you in circular motions, faster and faster. 

“Chan- Channie, I’m- oh, Channie,” you squeeze your eyes shut, scratching his back with your fingernails. 

“Yeah, like that, baby,” Chan sucks on your neck, “cum for me. Prove me you’re really mine.”

When you finally find your release - it’s with an obscene moan of his name and your teeth in his shoulder. You clench so tight around him that Chan feels suddenly on the verge of his own orgasm. 

“‘M close, baby, ‘m so close,” Chan breathes heavily, his thrusts turning frantic and erratic. He needs to let go. “Tell me- fuck, baby, tell me you’re mine. N-need to hear it,” he begs.

“‘M yours. ‘M yours, Chan. Love you so much, baby,” you whine and he eventually teaches his own orgasm, that washes all over his body and has him shaking on top of you as he fills up the condom with his hot release.

“My- my baby. ‘M so fucking in love with you,” he mumbles on your skin, pecking your neck, and then your jaw, and then your lips. 

“I’m in love with you, too, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, kissing his temple as you both catch your breaths. “Let’s eat the donuts now, yeah? ‘M kinda hungry,” you giggle, and he does, too.

-> 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

-> 𝐦𝐲 ☕️

[solar-wing]

⚣ Jason Todd: NSFW Alphabet 🔴

⚣🔴 A/N → I forgot I had written these out and had them on my old account. Did a little fine-tuning to them though. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | it's an NSFW alphabet so just expect the unexpected and the expected.

⚣🔴 Words → 3.6K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🔴

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man can go from rough and hard to soft and gentle in literal seconds. It’s like watching someone come out of a trance or possession. He’ll clean you up with a fresh rag and make sure you’re comfortable, especially if you’re sore (you’ll most definitely be). He’s clingy though.

You won’t get anywhere without him right beside you. And he won’t say it, but he loves it when you try to take care of him too. Jason is dominant and prefers to be in control, but that man is as needy as a newborn baby, and it gets 10x worse after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jason’s relationship with his body is difficult, but, if we’re talking about one where he’s healed, maybe been to therapy, and (slightly) moved on from his trauma, he probably favors his arms, chest, and hands. Jason prefers strength overlooking aesthetically fit, and he kind of always looks like he’s bulking but it's defined somehow. And because that adds to his overall size and level of intimidation, he loves working on those specific groups to increase them so he can in turn use them to intimidate people, especially those who try to flirt with you in front of him.

Now, on the other end, Jason is 100% an ass man. You can not change my mind. He loves you wearing any kind of tight or fitting material that molds to the shape of your butt and just being able to oogle and smack it when he wants. And smack it he does. Dude has the equivalent of 100 cheese necks in one palm and you feel it every time he lands one on your ass. 

Bonus points if you have thick thighs that jiggle when you walk. He’ll be paying extra special attention to those, especially if you’re wearing any kind of short shorts or fitted athletic wear. He also has a slight obsession or fascination with your neck. Whether in the act or just chilling, his hands will somehow find their way to your neck whether it’s a gentle caress or a firm grip. And if he’s feeling a little possessive or riled up in the moment (which is frequent) it’s his favorite place to mark, and if you try to cover them up, it’s more motivation for him to leave even bigger ones. He likes it when people can tell and see that you belong to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

More of an oozer than a shooter unless he’s been holding a load in for a while. And his loads are thick. He may not shoot far but he’ll definitely give you enough to fill the bottom of a glass. 

Also, no questions asked, he’s coming inside you. You just have to choose if it’s going to be your mouth or ass. Don’t ask, it’s a territorial thing with him. The thought of you walking around and greeting people while his babies are lodged deep inside your ass or fresh down your esophagus does wonders for his pride.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you’re not around and he’s really horny, he’ll masturbate with a piece of your clothing. Sometimes, he’ll also call you in the middle of it and won’t tell you just so he can hear your voice while edging himself to completion.

He also will purposely start arguments with you so you can have a reason to have angry make-up sex later.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Some small experiences before he died, and little hookups here and there when he came back and was somewhat in a good place with Bruce and himself. That being said, he gets most of his experience from his relationship with you. He quickly learns what he does like and what he doesn’t, and makes it known to you immediately. 

He also may or may not go to Dick for advice or tips on how to improve. Going to Bruce is out of the question. And not just because that’s still technically his dad.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy for one. It’s something about him grabbing you by your hair or even better, around your neck and forcing your body against his while he pounds into you from behind. He gets an exhilarating high from having you at his mercy and you surrendering yourself to him.

He also does favor missionary if he’s in a slightly more tender mood. But, If he’s feeling jealous or pissed off about something, he’s putting you up against a wall or in a corner with his hands around your neck and ramming you like there’s no tomorrow. Your legs will not be functioning for 24 hours.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tends to be more serious in the moment. When he’s in the mood, he’s fully in it. Especially if he needs to get his frustrations out. However, the sound of you moaning and screaming his name will definitely bring a smug grin to his face.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself adequately groomed. May grow some facial hair and have a little bush down there along with a happy trail but he’s good about keeping it neat and clean. And, if you want him to, he’ll shave it all, no questions needed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This he struggles with at times. It’s something he wasn’t given much of (especially with Bruce) so he doesn’t really know how to act when in those moments and he tends to get really uncomfortable, especially if it’s a particularly vulnerable moment for him. As far as during sex, he’s definitely on the more rough and brutish side, but he’ll always do his best to check on you.

It’s something he’s getting better at though. Even in moments without sex where you two are just lounging and sitting together, he’s good at reading you and knowing what you want or how to make you happy with small gestures and actions. He just wants to make sure you’re happy and that you feel loved (and that you belong to him and only him).

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Mentioned with dirty secrets. Really only does it when you’re not around. He’ll rarely do it just for the heck of it. He prefers getting his pleasure from pleasing and fucking (owning) you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dominance/Submission (Power Play) - Jason has had many things happen to him that he didn’t want or couldn’t control. It’s basically what influences this kink more than others. You submitting to Jason, letting him lead and have full control in sex and even in domestic scenarios creates a very satisfying and pleasurable feeling inside him. It also serves as reassurance for him, knowing that you fully trust him to the point where you basically surrender yourself to him. Getting back to more dirty things, this kink can include other aspects such as orgasm denial, bondage (on you), and verbal affirmation of your submission (dirty talk).

Choking (giving only) - This plays into the dominant/submission kink as well. It’s a rush from the feeling of control he has over whether you get to breathe or not while pounding your brains out. But, he’ll never go too far and he hopes you know that. However, he’s not at all okay with it being done to him. He does not like his neck being touched at all for that matter. Call it PTSD from his time with Joker and other things that have happened to him in the past, so it’s a big no-no. Although, with time and him getting more comfortable in the relationship, if he gives you a clear consenting sign that he’s okay with it, he’ll allow a gentle caress and rub down his neck, but only from you. Anyone else who tries to touch him on his neck risks several broken limbs.

Mirror Sex - A key part of his possessive nature toward you. He loves seeing himself fuck into you and even more, his ego gets a big boost from seeing you turn into an erotic mess while he’s inside you.

Size Difference - The fact that Jason can pick you up and throw you around like a rag doll, dwarfs you in size, or that his clothes (even if you’re tall and broad) can look three sizes too big on you is a major turn-on for him. He won’t say it, but he likes the idea of someone smaller than him that he can protect.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Weird enough, the thought comes to mind that Jason has a weird obsession with having sex with you in tight spaces. Mainly, places like the shower or the car. It ties a bit into his power and size kink. Something about the size of his body towering over you in a small space riles him up like no other. It’s the feeling or sensation that he’s got you cornered that drives that feeling. Kind of like an outlet for him to deal with his trauma of when he was actually trapped/cornered.

Also, he has it in his mind that whenever you move in together, he has to fuck you on every single available surface in your place. Christening your home with your love is how he likes to think of it. Plus, he gets a nasty kick out of when guests are over, imagining in his mind that they’re sitting in places where he had you crying out and cumming on his dick multiple times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

#1:Jealousy & Possessiveness – The idea of you finding anyone else attractive, let alone giving them your attention which is only supposed to be reserved for him, he’ll be quick to snatch you into the nearest closet or bathroom to remind you who you belong to. And it doesn’t matter who it is besides your parents or his family. It could be the barista at the cafe, a random guy who gave you a friendly nod, or god forbid, an old classmate or co-worker you happened to bump into on the street. Jason is a selfish & protective little fucker who doesn’t even want to consider the idea of someone else thinking they can have what’s only for him.

#2: Clothes – Please, exercise caution when picking your outfit for any particular event. Jason’s never gonna tell you what you can’t wear, but keep in mind that again, he’s a selfish and protective little fucker who has the sex drive of a large animal. Wearing anything even slightly tight or a bit showy for his taste can and will land you in many situations where Jason has pulled you aside somewhere quiet and private to have at your body. And don’t let him catch others ogling your outfit or even giving you the slightest compliment or all hell is breaking loose. Not to say he doesn’t like it, he loves it. But, you’re for his eyes only. Now, if it’s his clothes you’re wearing out, please be aware that at some point, you may be buying him a new shirt/hoodie cause he’s about to rip it off you.

#3: Arguing – Something in that man thrives on chaos, and when you and he are going at it, he can’t help but get hard. And again, hot, angry makeup sex. Duh…

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He will not do any form of rape/forced play, including machoism and sadism. His vigilante life and past trauma already left a deep scar on him and anything that resembles that can and will trigger him. Plus, he knows he’s way stronger and doesn’t want to even take the risk of hurting you in any way.

Unless we’re talking Arkham Jason. That’s a completely different story.

He would clear it with you first that you’re okay with bondage and choking, but he doesn’t want it performed on him, especially the choking, as we’re already aware that he’s very sensitive about his neck.

Any extreme BDSM kinks like piss play or fisting is also a major turn-off for him. Exhibitionism is a straight-up no. Jason would rather drink from the Lazarus pit than have anyone looking at you in a state that he’s only allowed to see you in. Don’t even attempt to pitch the idea of a threesome or foursome or just any suggestion of bringing someone else in on your fun. It will turn into a major argument and not a good one that ends in happy fun.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Inexperienced but picks it up quickly and learns what gets more of a reaction from you. He’s a fast learner and loves it when he’s able to drive you over the edge with his mouth alone. Also, if we’re talking about eating out, he’ll happily do it till the sun turns blue. There’s something about tasting you on his tongue that just really gets him riled up.

But, if we’re talking dick-sucking, definitely prefers receiving over giving. Jason finds it extremely hot seeing you go up and down on him with your mouth, especially when he grabs your hair or head and starts to force your head up and down or starts thrusting in your mouth. He loves seeing you slobber and choke all over him. And if you look up and give him a teary-eyed but submissive look, game over (in a good way).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely fast and rough. And if it’s not, you can bet he’s delivering some powerful strokes that will have you squeezing and clenching your legs all around him. Plus, he notices the harder he goes, the more you squeeze yourself against him while pressing your nails into his back and biting at his skin, trying to silence your loud moans and cries. Though, it’s probably not the best idea because he’ll just go even harder to force those noises out of you. And, those are marks and scars he will PROUDLY wear.

It takes him time (if you even decide at all that you want him to) to learn how to move at a softer, slower, and more sensual pace. But, if it’s something you truly desire, he’ll work on it and do everything he can to make you happy. But, that doesn’t mean rough sex goes away. It actually makes it even more hot, especially when Jason is in one of his moods.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not opposed to them. But, Jason likes to take his time with you. He doesn’t like to rush and hates the idea of feeling as if someone is going to interrupt him. No one should intrude upon your special time with each other. God bless (and protect) the unlucky souls that do.

But, if he’s really in the mood and he can’t get you to an ideal private place in a fast enough time, he’s not above pulling you into the nearest dark room or corner to get down and dirty, especially if he’s feeling a little territorial because someone decided they wanted to be brave stupid and hit on you. He’s more than happy to remind you who you’re in a relationship with. Or if you’re not in a relationship, then just who’s fucking you every single night, plain and simple. Either way, quickies to him are basically just his versions of reminders to you for what happens when he gets a bit jealous.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You’d have to move at a snail’s pace with him if you want to introduce something new to your routine. If it’s something small, then he may go ahead and give in to it, but Jason craves consistency and normalcy, and that includes sex. Asking him to try something new can hit a sore spot cause it may seem like what you two are doing now isn’t enough for you anymore.

But, if you reassure him it’s not that, and just slowly introduce the idea to him, (double points if he likes it off the start) then you’re definitely in for a treat. For you, and you only, he is willing to step out of his comfort zone, as long as it’s not too crazy or on his no-no list.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on his mood and what prompted the sex. He could go for one round or two if he’s just feeling a little feral and wants a piece of you. If it’s a jealous or angry fit after an argument, you might wanna cancel any plans after, cause he’s certainly not letting you leave the bed, the house, or wherever you are until your legs are basically useless.

The same thing goes for the duration of a round, especially if you’ve got the good good (hehe). If you’re really giving it to him. Mans may be lucky to make it past 10 minutes, but that’s not too bad. It means he can cuddle you, or you cuddle him. Either way, cuddles are non-negotiable after a round. But, if you two just got done hashing it out over something or you decided to poke one too many of his buttons, he’s dragging it out as long as he can. This means exiting out of you whenever he feels like he’s getting too close, and denying you your own orgasm as well (that damn control factor strikes again).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jason doesn’t own any toys and never really had an interest in them. It’s not something he’d really get into on his own and only would experiment with them if you asked. The most he’s got is handcuffs or rope he’d use for bondage but that’s as far as he would take it.

If you were to use toys, he’d definitely prefer him using them on you unless there was something else specific involved that didn’t cross one of his boundaries.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

50/50. If you’re teasing him, payback’s a fucker named Jason. He’ll kiss all your sweet spots, nibble on your chest, and barely give any attention to your dick/genitals. Especially if he’s in one of his ‘I want to hear you beg for me, tell me who owns you’ moods.

If he wants to get to the point, then you can expect to be promptly thrown onto the bed or whatever surface is nearby, and the most he’ll do here is tie or cuff your hands so you can’t touch him, knowing how much you like to feel his body while he’s ramming yours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jason’s loud. But, in a very grunty-like way. You may have to fight tooth and nail to get him to moan for you, but by golly is he expressive when you manage to get it out of him. For the most part, though, he’s giving grunts, growls, and grumbles. You’ll mainly hear him whisper into your ear, reminding you that he’s the one currently plowing your guts and that no one else is allowed to see you like this but him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He likes fucking you with clothes on frequently. You’re wearing a tight compression shirt that’s showing your pecs, abs, and just overall body, he’s got you bent over a surface while oogling your muscle constricting under a shirt. Wearing a jockstrap or thong in the gym and he can see it, he’s pulling them down and that underwear aside just enough to get inside you. You’re not complaining though. If he’s wearing his own compression and muscle shirts all the better for you, getting to ogle and rub his muscles while he’s hammering inside of you like an animal.

He also really enjoys massages. Particularly on his shoulders, back, and chest. He loves it when you lick and play around with the head of his dick and when you run your fingers through his hair while his face is buried in your neck kissing and leaving marks all over.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bigger than average.

8-9 inches minimum. He’s thick and girthy down as well. Maybe narrower at the base with a really large and bulbous head. Entering can be a bit of a challenge, but it gets easier the further he gets inside. Also has a curve to his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jason has a fairly high sex drive and the Lazarus pit only increased that. His libido can sometimes be more emotion-driven so feelings of love, anger, or even just a slight irritation will get him hard.

Maybe you’re not fucking every hour of the day, but he’s gotta have you in some shape or form at least once or twice a day. Whether it’s a blowjob, hand-job, or one of his jealous reminder quickies.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can go to sleep fairly quickly, but only after he’s properly cared for you and cleaned you up. Also, he has to have your body pressed against him. Cuddles are vitally important and you should never once not want to cuddle him. It’s the one intimate thing he’s got down perfectly to a T. 

However, he has more than once fallen asleep while still inside you and in the position you both finished in. It can lead to a comfortable or uncomfortable scenario, depending on the situation.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[deadsetobsessions]

A click. The closing and opening of a camera shutter. The whirr of film as it slides across the inner workings of his camera.

Timothy Drake heaved himself off of the concrete roof as soon as the vigilantes left his eyesight. He swaps the film roll, placing the used one inside of the tin with a barely restrained grin. He’d gotten good shots tonight- a confrontation with Harvey Dent, batarangs swooping to cut the new Robin free- and Tim was excited to race back to his dark room in order to develop those candids.

He climbs down the side of the building, the spelunking gear he’d splurged his parents’ money on working wonderfully on Gotham’s stone and concrete buildings.

“Mom, I want to be just like you guys!” He’d said, and his mom agreed to spare no expense for his new hobby. Well, their secretary did, with his parent’s disinterested permission. After all, spelunking is sometimes needed for artifact digs… probably.

Besides, the moment he had brought up Bruce Wayne’s propensity for “spelunking,” his father had immediately sent him more cave scaling stuff in order to “network with the other successful businessmen, Timmy!”

Tim slides away from the alley with full awareness. Even in Bristol, one had to be careful to avoid the multitudes of goons out and about. The Narrows are definitely worse than Bristol and Tim wasn’t about to let his hard work be taken away just like that. As he trudged home- taking a taxi once he was in a slightly more “trustworthy area”- Tim became slightly lost in his thoughts about the identities of Gotham’s vigilantes. Technically there’s only two.

Tim knows there’s three.

Batman.

Robin.

Nightwing.

Bruce Wayne.

Jason Todd.

Dick Grayson.

His sharp mind, now assuaged from the mystery of their identities, worked hard to match the fights he witnessed to the injuries the prolific Wayne family hid the next day.

Timothy Drake thinks he’ll never get bored following his vigilantes.

——

He’s bored. He’s so irrevocably, irredeemably bored.

Tim had been so excited to go, too! Perhaps for different reasons than everyone else because he was here to observe his heroes out of their masks, not for the Annual Wayne Gala that’s the end-all of high society life. As in, if you weren’t invited, that’s the end of your social life. Bruce Wayne held high society in his palms and Tim is only fifty percent sure he knew and/or cared. Regardless, he was prepared to be a pod-son to his parents’ fake good-parents act, and accordingly suffered thirty minutes of cheek-pinching and fake laughs just for the opportunity to see the three Bats in one place.

They’re not here. They won’t be here for another twenty minutes.

Anyways, he’s bored and irritated. Definitely annoyed enough for some bad ideas.

And Tim might not be aware of this fact about himself until much later when he’s more self-aware, but a bored and irritated Tim Drake is bad news for everyone.

He takes after Janet Drake, after all, and Janet Drake is only after Bruce Wayne in influence and cunning.

And his heroes, his beloved heroes, are the targets of his ire tonight. Tim smiles wider, pod-person smile widening to a baring of ravenous teeth incredibly off putting on a nine year old, and immediately changes course towards the delicate jello squares sitting at the buffet table.

The Waynes will be learning the importance of punctuality at their own galas by the time Tim’s done. He swears it. He even has a get out of jail free card!

Just. A small bit of petty revenge.

Tim nabs a bowl full of the jellos, snacking on one as he makes his way to the Wayne family’s most favorite balcony. Everyone knows it’s the one the family members go to when the Gala gets overwhelming. It’s an unspoken rule that no one else may enter it. Tim slips around the blind spots in the cameras.

High society might call someone a bitch in forty different ways, all hidden behind silk smiles and false eyes, but they’d respect the oddest things.

Tim… doesn’t care. He’s been breaking rules since he was seven.

He sets to his task, setting the jello cubes in the places he’d calculated that Jason or Bruce or Dick might step on. Mild revenge, yes, but Tim doesn’t want to bother Alfred too much. The butler had looked a bit tired earlier. Task done, Tim squeezes back into the party and smiles like his life depended on it.

“Brucie!” His dad boomed, and Tim felt his smile widen once more.

“Jack!” Batman’s Brucie personality bounced into the ballroom as the party kicked back up with the host’s presence. “How’ve you been, old chap?”

“The digs have been very fruitful!”

“I see you’ve brought someone with you today! Well, other than your strikingly beautiful wife, of course!”

“This is my son, Timothy!”

“Hello, Timothy. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Oh. My. God. He’s shaking hands with Batman!

“Hi. I’m Timothy Drake.”

“Oh my gosh, Tim!” His mom laughs, fake nails and laugh digging into his shoulders. Oops. Too informal.

“It’s alright.”

“BRUCE!”

Oh my god, it’s ROBIN. Tim’s smile twitches, barely containing his squeals.

“Jaylad? What’s wrong?”

“Someone left jello cubes all over the balcony!”

“What?” Bruce (Brucie, Tim decides is the name of the mask) turns to his parents and excuses himself.

“Mom? I’m going to go network with Bruce Wayne’s son.”

No, he’s not. He’s gonna go watch them lose their minds.

“That’s my boy!” His dad claps him on the shoulder and shoos him off. His mom narrowing her eyes at him but ultimately dismissing him.

Perfect. By the time he gets there, he hears Nightwing- Dick Grayson, oh my god!- asking “O” to figure out who left all those cubes on the floor.

“Drake?” Ah, shit.

“Weren’t we just talking to him earlier, B?”

“Yes, but I haven’t got the slightest idea why he’d leave jello cubes all over the place.”

“Assassination attempt?” Jason asks.

“Whatever it is, it ruined my running shoes!”

“Dick, please, just wash it off or give it to Alfred.”

“Ugh, we can just go ask him.”

“And make a scene?” Jason sounds eager.

“No. Alfred ordered us specifically not to.”

Silence. Tim grins and slips away, making his way through and voiding the cameras as usual.

—-

“Timmy!”

Tim smiles politely at Brucie Wayne while inwardly cheering. His dad looks at him with stars in his eyes and leaves him to work his magic.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” Pod-person smile!

“This is my son, Jason. And this is Dick.”

“Hi. I’m Jason!” He holds out a hand for Tim to shake. Dick smiles at him and Tim thinks he might expire on the Wayne’s ballroom floor.

“Hello,” Tim suppresses his urge to scream excitedly. “I’m Timothy Drake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Woah, you sound so stiff.”

“Jason!” Brucie Wayne chides. “Anyways, Timmy, you looked like you had something to tell me earlier. Something wrong, kiddo?”

No, no he didn’t. But… they don’t know that he knows their secret. And they don’t know he knows that they don’t know.

Tim acts confused, but then clears up with his expression like he just thought of something.

“Oh! I was wondering why you were late, Mr. Wayne. Did Batman stop you on the way back?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I know you don’t really like Batman, Mr. Wayne,” Tim cackles inwardly. “But he saves you a lot. Were you stopping crime?”

“I… I’m not Batman.”

“Well, I know that,” Tim huffs. “It’s just weird no one’s seen you and Batman in the same room.” Tim cheerfully ignores the alarm making its way onto the trio’s faces and his dad’s frantic, further away, cut it out motion. “But obviously that’s because Batman’s busy putting on his gear, right?”

“And how do you figure that…?” Dick asks, tense.

“Uh, he always knows when you’re in trouble? He always comes in minutes of you guys getting held hostage. Is his base on the manor grounds? Oh, is it a secret that you’re funding him? Don’t worry! I know how to keep a secret! Can you tell the new Robin that I think he’s the best?” Tim grins cutely up at Batman. Ah, he means Brucie Wayne.

“Sure can, kiddo! Don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Jason swoops in, grinning back Tim.

Eeee!

As he nods, Tim can’t help mentioning the cubes. “Oh, sorry about the cubes! I thought I’d be able to track them with their shoe print if Batman and Robin came to save you guys but I guess that wasn’t going to happen. I’m really sorry!” He uses the “cute duckling” face and Dick visibly melts.

“No problem, Timmy! You should come over to play Clue with us sometime! I think you’d be good at it.”

“Oh! Really?” His words becomes a bit more genuine. “I’ve never played it. My mom and dad aren’t around much so. Um. Would it be okay if we do?”

“This weekend.” Brucie Wayne’s voice suddenly became more firm. “I’ll talk to your parents about it.

—-

As Tim waves the Wayne’s goodbye, he hears from Dick, “You only like him because he said you’re the best.”

And Jason’s reply, “Because he’s got good taste,” made the rest of his night. Not week, because tomorrow, he gets to poke around Wayne manor again!

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’

Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.

“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.

People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.

“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”

You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.

“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.  

You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.  

“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”

You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.

.

.

That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.

Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.

“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.

“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.

You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.

“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.���

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”

Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.

“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh come on, he did not.”

“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.

“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”

“I beg your pardon.”

You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—

“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—

‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.

“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”

Ouch.

“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”

‘I’ll just go then.’

But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.

.

.

“My goodness, are you alright?”

You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?

Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.

“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”

Do you know how to get home?

You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.

“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.

You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”

So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.  

“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.

“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.

“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”

You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.

‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.

Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.

You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”

.

.

.

Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.

He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?

And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.

But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.

He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.

This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—

He looked back at the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick—

His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.

“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”

“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”

Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.

‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’

“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”

The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.  

“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.

Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.

“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”

.

.

.

[mayakern]

hiiii it's me! devin! ur favorite!

maya is still banned from doing big business things on social media while she takes time to rest and detoxify from the poison that is running social media full time for ten years. everybody clap! yay!

i'm here to share some info on our button-up shirt and dress preorders!

as many of you already know, i lost my anti-preorder campaign due to the high minimum per design. there's been some confusion and uncertainty. carsyn's doing her best but preorders are overwhelming and i have some time today

SO TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS:

how close are you to hitting the minimum goal for the button-up shirts and dresses?

not close lol. as of 4/26 we're at about 8% funded. i refuse to panic until after may 3rd

why the funeral design?

the funeral design won our design poll

initially we were going to run preorders for two designs: funeral as well as astronauts. when we got news that the minimum would be 400 garments per design (we're able to spread that across the button-up shirts and dresses) we decided to cut back to one design. we're really not big enough to expect 800 orders on an $80-90 item

why not another design?

another design did not win the design poll

what would have been chosen other than funeral or astronaut?

deadly florals, hiss from a rose, microorganisms, and hands were all the top placers in the design poll after funeral

can you do solid color?

yes

why didn't you do solid color?

you can buy a solid color button-up shirt or dress from anywhere. the plan has always been to introduce these garments in solid color after their initial introduction

...so can you do solid color?

we will consider doing solid color preorders if these preorders bomb

how much would solid color cost?

probably the same. it's not much cheaper. it's faster to make tho

how much would the ecovero viscose cost instead of cotton?

maybe like $10 cheaper

it's really soft tbh but it's a different weave from the viscose for the skirts. it's my number one fabric for the button-ups but alas the cotton fandom won for now

what happens if preorders bomb?

we cancel and refund all preorders.

maybe we'll try again with a different design or with fewer features after we have some time to decompress from the nightmare that is running preorders (can you tell i hate preorders). if they bomb bad enough we may completely nix patterned button-up shirts and dresses. we don't know yet!

does that affect the picnic top?

the picnic top is completely separate. since it's made out of a different fabric it has its own minimum, so it will not be affected by button-up shirt and dress preorders

and like, to be totally honest, it's way cheaper to produce. we can eat some of the cost and just make them. they're small enough to store easily and they're at a lower price point so we can expect to sell them after we receive them, like the wrap tops

btw, we have other ready-to-ship things already in production. we've been working on a whole secret project. surprise!

why did you launch preorders for the button-up shirt/dress at the same time as the picnic top?

the picnic top sample came in with the button-up dress sample and it needed very little alteration. also maya liked it. also we may be developing an entire line inspired by the picnic top so keep an eye out for that next spring

why is the new button-up shirt more expensive than the old button-up shirt?

it's more expensive to make

why is it more expensive to make?

this is a different factory from the one we used before. it's more expensive because they pay their staff a higher wage and likely have other costs

this is a different fabric from the one we used before. it's a stretch cotton with a GOTS certification

this is imported from a different country from the one we used before. turkey has much higher import fees to the US

what is a GOTS certification?

the short version is the fabric itself is more environmentally friendly and produced with more fair labor practices than standard cotton

you can read the long version here here

can you do fulfillment from somewhere other than the US?

we're working on it. it probably won't lower prices tho, since fulfillment centers also cost money

anyway...

none of this is to shame someone for not preordering. groceries are expensive and things are tight, plus it kinda sucks to spend on a tight budget and not get what you ordered for a few months

(can you tell i hate preorders)

i think there's a lot of surprise since we've never done preorders on a single design before, and that's fair! we debated on doing a kickstarter but a) i hate doing kickstarters b) kickstarter takes a percentage of sales and our profit margin on these is already lower than we'd like it to be

i'm tired and i can't remember anything else i wanted to say. i may answer any additional questions from my own tumblr (@punchyemblem and now i'm gonna get a notification that i'm gonna be jumpscared by) but carsyn will be handling most questions

also don't worry, when you say nice things we still show maya. also she's fine, she's just in her (forced and highly necessary and possibly permanent) limited social media era

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Warnings: dacryphilia, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up babes), creampie, spit kink (for like two seconds), Reader being a brat

A/N: This has been a plot bunny that sat in my Google Docs while all my other works got attention. Did I really just write a 5+1? Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

Clark Kent was a simple man, for the most part. He had preferences, sure. But he knew what he liked, and went for those things more often than not. One of his preferences was a certain kind of woman. 

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

The perfect combination of submissive and strong-willed. What others may call bratty, Clark would call “a little feisty” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And that is where Clark was anything but simple. He was your Dominant, you were his submissive. He loved you, he provided for you, and he kept you safe. He kissed the ground you walked on, he broke you, and he put you back together.

The first time you met Clark Kent was in the break room of the Daily Planet. 

You were an intern for the summer, just working to get some credits toward your journalism degree. You weren’t all that interested in going to warzones and reporting on drug lords and shit. You wanted to tell stories about starving artists and activism. You wanted to surprise people with your ability to capture the essence of someone’s emotion and relate it to the reader’s own experiences.

While doing your writing at work, while you were supposed to be doing whatever Lois Lane threw at you this morning, you decided to take a break to recharge. Since energy drinks gave you the jitters, you opted for a warm-ish mug of hours-old coffee.

As you reached up to the cabinet to get a mug, you watched as a hand appears above you to grab the handles of two mugs. You turned, following the hand, to see who reached over you. Eyes blue like the Atlantic Ocean behind a pair of plain black rectangular frames looked back at you. You can’t help but smile at him as he beamed, bright enough to illuminate your entire day.

And your writer’s brain was getting way ahead of itself already. Who the hell was this mountain of a man? I wonder what his lips taste like. Should that tie go with that shirt? Fuck, did he just ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted the black or the flower mug. I was gonna offer the flower. But I’d rather not assume you didn’t wanna just take the plain one. So, I’m gonna stop talking and let you answer.” 

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

“Sunflowers are my favorite.” He offered the mug and your fingers touch and you’re glad that you are the only two in the break room.

“Clark,” he says, as he poured himself some coffee, “Clark Kent.”

You gave your name and he put out a hand to shake yours. With your hand in his, you notice how it engulfed your own. You thought to yourself about that hand around your throat. Just lightly squeezing the sides of your neck, as a warning.

“Nice to meet you. I hope Lois has been easy on you. She can be a little…much.” He said it in a way that lead you to believe he’s been on the demanding end of Lois more than once.

“Eh, she’s alright. I mean, Ms. Lane is just fine.” You tried to cover your disdain for Lois. In reality, you saw her as a ‘Pick-Me’, but you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure she is. I dated her, so I know her pretty well. Not that I should be saying anything. But, don’t let her try and get in your head. She’ll use whatever she can to get a scoop, whether in the field or the workplace. She’s a great journalist, but-” You cut him off, not wanting to take part in putting down another woman.

“I think I get the hint. Watch my back around her.” You assure him you understood as you poured your coffee and put in some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back. That was rude of me. My mother would be disappointed in me for that.” He looked into his mug, and you saw that he was not proud of himself for putting down his ex.

“It’s all good, Clark. I can tell you didn’t mean anything by it. Emotions are tricky, ya know?” You don’t know why you wanted to give him an ‘out’, but you did.

“That, they are. I better get back. See ya around,” He gave a cute little wave and exited the room.

The first time Clark Kent called you Sunflower happened about a month after your first meeting. 

The two of you ended up together on a test run for Perry to see how you go about working with other reporters. He probably just wanted to see if I could share a byline.

You could tell that Lois saw a tenacity in you that reminded her of her younger self. While that was great, you wanted to be seen for your ability to get people to talk to you without making them feel like they were in an interview. Just a conversation between people.

When you asked Clark to work on the assignment with you, he jumped at the opportunity. In truth, he wanted the chance to see you at work. He’d listen to Lois talk about how you just saw things differently. Almost like she was jealous, but she would never admit to that.

“So I was thinking we could go to Gotham. Before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous there but we’ll be going during the day. And I finally got the go-ahead from Wayne Enterprises to shadow one of their board members. A Day in the Life kind of piece. What do you think?” You rambled out, arms crossed as you leaned against Clark’s desk.

“I think I can get you an exclusive with Bruce Wayne if you wanted.” He stated nonchalantly.

“I would owe you big time. Wait, how the hell do you know Wayne? What, were you boy scouts together or something?”

“We just end up at a lot of the same places.” Clark offers no other explanation.

“Right,” you nodded at him, not letting it go, “So, I run point on this and you back me up?”

“Sounds perfect. You’ll do great, just know he will try and flirt with you so don’t make it easy for him, Sunflower.” The nickname caused heat to rise to your face, remembering that first time you met him.

“Sure, like the most eligible bachelor in Gotham who can buy whatever he wanted would look at me twice?” You weren’t being down on yourself too much, more like you were being realistic. The man had dated supermodels and heiresses, not chubby junior reporters.

“Without sounding unprofessional, trust me when I say Bruce will look at you more than twice. You say the word and I’ll set him straight.” Was that flirtatious? No way.

“Um, if you say so, Clark,” you tried to laugh it off and walk away but Clark caught your wrist, your eyes locked with his and you felt…something. 

“I do say so, Sunflower,” he lowered his hand from around your wrist, “Just prepare to shut him down more than once. He’s, uh, persistent.”

“You trying to save me for yourself, huh?” You couldn’t help yourself. If he denies it, you could say you were joking. If he confirms it, then…

He simply smiled and tilted his head, neither confirming nor denying. 

During your interview with Bruce Wayne, you were surprised that he indeed did flirt with you as Clark said he would. You managed to steer the conversation back to Wanye Enterprises each time he would stray to learn more about you. You would give him a detail here and a tidbit there, but you kept it professional. Clark was there to take notes, letting you take the lead. He was impressed by you. You kept Bruce flirting with you to get him to spill details about new things he was working on for Gotham.

The first time you kissed Clark Kent was three months into your internship. 

Lois had taken a shine to you, loving what few pieces you were able to get past the intern pool and into an issue. You figured it would be in your best interest to go to her with any journalistic questions you had. You may not like her very much, but she was still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and you would be an idiot not to take a few pointers from her.

There was one thing you didn’t talk to her about, and that was the massive crush you had on her ex. It just seemed too messy, and honestly, you didn’t need her permission to do anything. 

That’s why you accepted Clark’s invitation to make you dinner. Frankly, you weren't surprised he asked you. You had been flirting with each other, exchanging glances and smiles across the office. Spending hours a night talking on the phone and texting back and forth naturally lead you here.

Armed with a bottle of wine and all the courage you could muster, you make it to Clark’s apartment just as he is finishing dinner. He answers the door in jeans and a grey long-sleeved henley, looking so comfortable and so different without a tie on. He thanked you for the wine, took your wrist to pull you behind him, and shut the door with a socked foot.

Pouring you both a glass, he congratulated you for completing half of your internship. It completely slipped your mind that you had reached this milestone, but he remembered. And that was saying a lot. You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of the pinot noir. 

“This is going to go great with dinner. Thank you again for picking up some. I can’t believe I forgot to,” Clark bantered, setting his wine glass down to check on the pork tenderloin and roasted potatoes.

“You were too busy trying to impress me,” You insisted, smiling when he gives you a stern look.

“Watch it, Sunflower,” is all you hear and you shifted from one foot to the other to hide your search for friction. You barely had two sips of wine in your system before this man had you feeling drunk.

“Time to let the pork rest while the potatoes finish up. Should be done in a bit,” Clark picked up his wine glass, settling his other hand on your lower back to guide you to the island counter. He didn’t expect it when a shiver ran up your spine and caused you to giggle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

You sat and chatted during dinner like you’ve known each other for ages and it just felt very comfortable. He told you about his mom, growing up in Smallville, and how he came to work at the Daily Planet. You spoke about your schooling and how you’d one day like to write for the Planet and publish a book of short stories. He was stuck on your every word and it made you feel important to have his undivided attention.

After dinner, you retired to the living room to watch some tv. It was more just on as background noise as you conversed with each other. When you both reached for the wine bottle at the same, you both laugh and then look at each other. And it was all you could do not to melt into a puddle as those blue eyes stare longingly at you.

Clark reached up and took off his glasses before tossing them on the coffee table. Fuck. But, he does nothing more. For what seems like minutes, you sat in silence just staring into each other’s eyes until you speak up. 

“Clark, please?” You whined, growing more frustrated with every second.

“Use your words. Tell me what you need, Sunflower.” The way he said it had you shifting in your seat.

“I need you to kiss me, please?” You pleaded, the little crack in your voice not missed by Clark.

He cupped your face with one large paw, his touch so soft that you leaned into it to feel his warmth. His thumb moved over to wipe across your lips, followed swiftly by his lips.

Your lips met and you felt the warmth radiating from him. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue as he begged for entry. You let him in, moaning into his mouth. Clark grunted in return and pulled away to rest your foreheads together.

“I have wanted that for far too long, Sunflower,” Clark groaned, licking his lips.

“Me too,” you whisper, scooting closer to Clark to lace your fingers together, “Can we do it again?”

Instead of answering you, he pulled you into his lap and attacked your mouth with fervor.

The first time you tell Clark Kent you love him is exactly two months after your first kiss.

It was completely by accident, but no less true. 

Clark invited you over for dinner and a movie. The two of you were in the middle of watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Patrick was dancing on the bleachers and singing to Kat. The most romantic scene in the movie apart from the poetry scene.

“Ya know, if we went to high school together and you sang ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to me in front of the whole school, I would have melted,” you say, stuffing popcorn into your face, “But then, I already love you, so you wouldn’t have to do the whole singing thing.”

Clark’s head whipped around so fast that you can feel the wind coming off of him. “What did you just say, Sunflower?”

You look to Clark and you realized what you had said at the same moment and your eyes went wide. “I think I just confessed love during a ‘90s romcom.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” Clark looked at you with that look in his eyes, “Good thing I love you, too.” He says nonchalantly, trying to not freak you out, and went back to watching the movie.

“Clark, I love you.” You wanted to feel the words on your tongue again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” Hearing the words come from him was like a cozy embrace that coated the night in warmth.

The first time you had sex with Clark Kent was at the end of your internship.

Clark wanted to wait- 

No, he didn’t want to wait, but he chose to wait until your internship was over and you were offered an actual job at the Daily Planet to not seem like he was cruising for tail in the intern pool. 

Little did you know, but Clark had it all planned out. Candlelit dinner, romantic music, wine, and chocolates. The whole nine yards. But you didn’t get to experience that version of lovemaking. 

At the same time Clark was lighting candles, he heard your heartbeat spike across town. He sped away to your location, without putting on his suit. He flew above the city before he found you being held up at gunpoint in an alleyway and his blood boiled. He watched you comply with your attacker and hand over your purse before flying down behind the man quietly. The man had no idea what hit him when Clark flicked his temple and the assailant falls over unconscious.

He didn’t even think to keep his identity secret anymore. He steps over the man to get to you and check you over for injuries, both external and internal. When he sees nothing, he questions you, “Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You look almost through him because there he is in a sweater and dark-wash jeans, glasses slightly askew. You step back an inch as he reaches out to you. He can see it in your eyes that you are piecing together little moments. 

How he got across town in what seemed like seconds. How he never got sick. How it felt like he was always hiding something. This is what he was hiding from you. For your safety? For his?

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you I was Superman, I just didn’t know how. Do you forgive me, Sunflower?” Clark’s pleading ultramarine eyes burned into yours. 

“I mean, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell me. I have so many questions. Of which, you will answer all of them, Clark. But, all I need to know right now is how the hell you found me?” Your breathing was starting to speed up again and you tried to calm down but given the circumstances, you were acting pretty normal.

“I kind of, know your heartbeat. I can hear it at all times. Wherever you are, I can hear you,” Clark makes an odd face and then forces out an embarrassed laugh, “Now that I say that out loud, it sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. But it’s also super romantic, too,” you reach to Clark and pull him to you, “What’s my heart sound like now?”

“Sounds like you’re excited,” he let his hand drag down your body, “Smells like it too. Now, why would that be?”

“I mean, I did just find out my boyfriend is a superhero. That’s sorta hot. Sorta, I mean, he hasn’t taken me flying yet.”

“Brat! How hard is it to ask for what you want?” He picked up your purse from the unconscious attacker and handed it to you. When it is secured around your shoulder, Clark picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, Sunflower.” He took off so fast that the world blurred around you.

As he got closer to his apartment, he slowed down and flew a bit higher near the clouds. He rolled over onto his back so that you are straddling him. His hands found each other behind his head as he floated above Metropolis, all attention directed at you. Your eyes wandered around the city as you adjusted your seating which stirred his arousal.

Clark tried to adjust himself under you without you noticing but instead, you took the opportunity to grind your clothed sexes together. The groan that escaped Clark’s mouth is enough to spur you on to continue your ministrations. His eyes are already rolling back in his head and you feel quite proud of yourself. You reached under Clark’s sweater and ran your fingers through his chest hair as you continue to work your hips over him.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Sunflower?” He opened his eyes, pupils were blown wide with lust, breathing becoming unstable.

“Take me to your place so we can get more comfortable?” You flirted with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying up his body.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed under your thighs to have you wrap your legs around him once more and began to descend to the balcony of his apartment. He let you inside first but is quickly behind you following you into his bedroom as you start to shed your layers.

You spun around and gave Clark a show of your skin becoming visible in the moonlight. When you are fully undressed, you knelt in front of him with your head down and your hands on your thighs. 

He walked over to you and kissed the top of your head. He listened for your heartbeat, and it was steady, if not a little heightened. You were awaiting instruction, as far as he could tell.

“Sunflower, I want you to pick a safe word.” He stood behind you and undressed down to his underwear.

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

“Good girl,” Clark caressed your shoulders and squeezed them, “Are you okay with calling me Sir?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your heart rate evened out, Clark noticed. You’re happy. He beamed down at you.

“Good girl, now turn around and take out Sir’s dick.” 

You turned around and reach up to Clark’s boxer briefs, cupping him over the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband and pulling the underwear down and off. His length sprung up to bounce in front of your face and you lick your lips in anticipation but don’t go any further without direction.

“Such a good girl, Sunflower,” he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Come lay down so Sir can taste you. I can already smell how wet you are.”

You took his hands as he helped you up. Clark pulled you close to his body, your back against his chest. He attacked your neck, nipping and sucking marks that would show in the morning. His length on your hip has you testing your limits. 

As if reading your mind, Clark reached down and cupped your netherlips. You instinctively clamped your thighs around his hand and he used a foot to kick your legs apart. With one hand exploring your cunt, the other slides around your throat as a warning.

“Don’t ever block me from my pussy, Sunflower. This belongs to Sir now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it belongs to you.” You were sure Clark could feel you clench around nothing and you didn’t care. You wanted him to know he was doing everything right.

“Good girl,” He dipped a finger into your wetness and pulled it back out to wipe across your bottom lip, “We’re both gonna taste your sweet honey.” He used the hand around your throat to turn you around so he could claim your lips.

You tasted yourself as his tongue invaded you, whimpering into his mouth. His answering groans had you trembling. He walked you backward until your legs hit the edge and he pushed you down. Leaning over, he knelt and pushed your thighs back as far as they would go, marveling at your glistening slit.

With the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your neglected nub, pausing to suck on it lightly. He ate with the hunger of a man starved. He steeled his tongue, probing your core and tasting you from within. He made out with your pussy, pulling back to spit on it which drew moans from you and had you squeezing your breasts in response.

Clark was good at this, not that you were surprised because of how good of a kisser he was, but fuck! The way he fingered your pussy, making sure to curve his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside was heavenly. 

When he sped up his fingers and pushed down on your lower stomach, you gasped and realized he understood the assignment. He was rewarded with you squirting over his hands and chest.

“Such a good girl for me, Sunflower,” he said, before sucking your juices off of his fingers and moving your limp body up the bed, “Now, you’re going to be an extra good girl and take Sir’s dick.”

That was all the warning you received before Clark was pushing in, stretching you wide over his thick hardness. With every inch, he would pull out and press in an inch more than the last thrust. He made sure to stretch you slowly, keeping your tightness while allowing you to get used to his girth. 

“That’s right, Sunflower, open those sweet petals for Sir,” Clark soothes your whines as he fucks into you, “I promise I’ll make it all better when you let me all…the way…in.” He punctuated his words with jolts from his hips. 

When he is finally seated inside you, he pauses. The sudden stop has you reaching for Clark and moving your hips to gain friction.

“Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” he leaned over you and watched as tears flow from your eyes, “These tears are gorgeous, but use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Sir, please,” you whined, looking into his eyes, “Need you to fuck me, please.” 

The smile on Clark’s face is brilliant, he’s got you right where he wants you. He kissed your face, stopping to wipe away your tears with his tongue. Pulling back, he secured your legs around his hips before he leaned down to wrap one hand around both of your wrists, holding them above your head.

When Clark fucked you, he paid attention to every aspect of your body. He looked into your eyes. He kissed and nipped at your neck. He pinched and teased your nipples. He rubbed your clit while he pounded inside you. 

Clark just did it better than any of your partners before. Maybe because you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him? Or maybe because he was just…better. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him and he was inside you and you were all his.

You lost track of how many times you came, but Clark remembers every time. He committed them to memory, seeing you arch your back and feeling your walls flutter around him. He could tell by the sheen of sweat on your body and the way your body is vibrating that you were beyond spent. Possibly even a bit overstimulated. Perfect.

“You ready for my cum, Sunflower?” He licked his thumb and pressed on your clit as you keen, “Do you think you can hold on for me for just a bit longer?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you moan as he slid his hands to your hips.

“There’s my good girl,” he groaned and began his assault on your pussy. At this angle, he can stimulate both your hooded center and your G-spot. A punishing pace that set you ablaze. While you held onto his biceps, you looked into his eyes. Where there used to be blue irises, only dark pupils remained. His curly hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead. He was barely a man now, more like an animal rutting into you.

Before long, his hips stutter in their onslaught. Breathing erratically, he squeezed your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. He moved to kiss your neck and latched onto your shoulder with his teeth as you feel every twitch of him releasing inside you. You know there will be bite marks in your shoulder for days but you don’t care.

Clark’s teeth left you, followed closely by his tongue soothing your almost-broken skin. Sometimes, he didn’t know his strength. And it was a close one this time. He was still inside you semi-hard before he decided to pull out slowly causing you to whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He moved from the bed for a moment. You closed your eyes for a millisecond before you feel warm wetness between your legs.

“Just cleaning you up, Sunflower,” He wipes your delicate folds softly and throws the towel in the clothes hamper before crawling in bed beside you, “You go right to sleep, you deserve it.”

The last time you refer to yourself as Clark’s girlfriend is a year and a half into your relationship.

Clark proposes to you over dinner in the house you bought together. He bought the ring after you talked about marriage just two weeks ago. Well, technically, Bruce helped him buy the ring. As in, Bruce bought the jewelers store and had them design the perfect ring for you. 

A smoky quartz center with marquise and pear-shaped citrine petals around it. You had mentioned more than once that you didn’t want a diamond engagement ring, you wanted something that matched your style.

Clark presented the ring to you on one knee, ever the traditionalist. You said yes, of course.

This man was your life, your hope, and your future. You looked forward to every minute of every hour of every day with him. 

He is your light in the darkness, and you are his Sunflower.

A/N: Yes, the title is from "Sunflower" by Post Malone/Swae Lee. Yes, the song was for a Spider-Man movie. So, what? It's a good song.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

[narislvr]

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

[dendro-bunny]

Deepspace

Rafayel x Reader

Genre: hurt to comfort, angst to fluff, suggestive on all boys

Synopsis: Being around you is his favorite part of the day… Yet he called you clingy and annoying… so you gave him space…

Warning: break downs, feeling less than, depression, misunderstanding, anxiety, delusion (the part where he’s hoping you’re in a certain part of the house)

(A/n): I like hurting feelings :) but I also like making them aaalllllll better <3 I WRITE SO MUCH LORD HELP ME! THE OTHER BOYS WILL BE IN DIFFERENT PARTS! Also may continue each part with a spicy part 😋

Part 1.5 , part 2, part 2.5, part 3, part 3.5

============================================================================

Rafayel (frustration blinded him)

You sit at the bottom of the ladder your artist is sitting at the top of. His legs dangle ever so slightly in front of you. You watch his fingers do meticulous strokes on the canvas.

Your fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his pants. You have a few markers you’re making doodles with on his pants leg. You occasionally comment on the colors he puts on the canvas. Saying how pretty the contrast is, or how much it brings the piece together. Only encouraging words.

You’ve probably been sitting like this for 4 hours, you start to feel hungry realizing you missed lunch and so has Rafayel. So you get up and walk to the kitchen to make some food.

“Hey bae you hungry?” You raise your voice slightly from the kitchen.

“Not hungry.” He replies hurriedly.

You peak your head out the door way from the kitchen. “You sure?” You get a ‘mhm’ back and sigh. You make food for the both of you and you put his in the air fryer.

You walk over with your food in hand and rest your head on his thigh. He moves his thigh so you aren’t resting on him anymore. You blink at him in confusion.

You see his face is contorted in concentration and every few seconds he lets out huffs of frustration. You wait a moment eating more of your food before trying to sit at the bottom of the ladder again. You feel his foot nudge you off.

“Babe… I wanna sit next to you…” you frown deeply at his huff.

“Look I just need one moment of space, can you not be so clingy for 5 seconds.” You hear him mutter under breath. The part that shocks you is what he mutters after.

“Honestly kind of annoying. Don’t you have other things to do than bothering me?” He mutters this, not even sparing you a glance. If he had he would see the hurt on your face. The betrayal in your eyes. The quiver of your bottom lip you have to bite to keep yourself grounded.

“Oh… sorry… your food is in the air fryer.” You back away. You give him the space he wants. So much space you leave the apartment. After gathering your things. You know he’ll be working on that picture for the next few days. Best to give him his space right?

Maybe you were being annoying and clingy. You mean you’ve been so close to him for the last couple of days. Barely separating long enough to use the bathroom.

Maybe you were a bit annoying constantly distracting him from paintings. He’s always said you were the only one that he would let distract him during those times. But maybe he was just hiding his annoyance.

The silence in the room is deafening. Your chimes of support and jokes leaves rafayel in a choking silence. He looks to where you last were. You’re not there. Immediately his inspiration flees. The once languid hand holding his brush falls limp against his leg. Shoulders slumping and a pout on his face.

“Babe?!” He waits for a response. 1. 2. 3. Beats go past nothing. He gets down from his ladder and heads to the kitchen. Maybe you’re too busy stuffing your face to answer him. As he enters the kitchen he smells the food you’d prepared for him.

As he opens the air fryer he sees the old dish your grandmother taught you. The most amazing lobster rolls he ever tasted. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was till he look at the plate. So much love and effort was put into the dish. He felt bad for destroying it in a few bites. He really has to find you now he has to thank you for making such delicious food for him.

You really are the best girlfriend he could ever ask for. The best girlfriends get tired easy from being so great! You must be in his bed! The only reasonable place left for you to be! When he walks into his room however it’s unsettlingly tidy and untouched. His face turns to a pout. He storms around his studio looking for you. Turing the place upside down. When he concludes you left, get checks his camera system for when you left.

2 hours ago. He sees you walk into entrance and crouch down. Your shoulders shake as you weep. For 3 minutes you stay like that. When you stand you don’t bother to wipe your eyes. You just hop on your motorcycle and ride off.

His heart sinks. What happened, he genuinely doesn’t remember. He spends a few minutes thinking and comes up with nothing. Why can’t he remember what happened. He shoots you a text… he gets no immediate response. So he texts again, and again, and again.

Rafayel [14:30] :

-Can’t believe you just left me all alone! 😭

Rafayel [14:35]:

-it’s fine I forgive you!

-Especially since you made me such delicious lobster!

-You know you should tell me when you leave though!

Rafayel [14:50]:

-you know I’m not upset…

-why aren’t you answering?!

-Are you ok?!

-Babe?!

You [21:30]:

-sorry was on an urgent mission.

-The wander cut off the service in the area.

-You’re welcome for the lobster.

-Heading to bed now good night.

Rafayel looks at his phone is disbelief. The entire time he was waiting he’s just been staring at the sea. Waiting to see if a message in a bottle would wash up on shore. And hopefully the message was from you. Dramatic he knows. But he feels lost. Without you next to him he can’t concentrate on anything else but you.

The message is as dry as it gets. No emojis, no hearts, no feelings. And you’re going to bed… without him?! He responds with ‘oh ok… good night my muse… sleep well I love you.’ With a few hearts and kissy faces… nothing back.

You stare at the last message. Your emotions are mixed, you feel guilty but upset, sad but on edge. Was he manipulating you? How does he not know how you feel? How could be blatantly ignore what he said?!

You know it’s petty and immature. Maybe it’s best you guys have some space. You make a promise to yourself to keep your interactions short for the next week.

And you do rather well… for 3 days. His texts get more and more frequent and he seems worried in them all. Yet you don’t respond, well only a few times. Declining dates and things of the sort. The fourth day you get no messages or call. It isn’t until Thomas calls you this fourth day pleading you to go talk to Rafayel and get him to hurry on his painting. Since it’s the centerpiece at the hunter association’s gala. You think that when you get there it’ll be the same song and dance as always. Listening to him whine about much there is something missing and having to go on a wild goose chase.

When you open the door. You find the place in a worst state than normal. Yeah sure it’s messy sometimes but this time there are sketches and concepts and creations just sparred around. When you pick one up, it’s of you a sketch of your smile. Then one of you laughing, then one of you 3 days ago outside his door.

“RAFAYEL?!” You begin to panic. Unsure of how his headspace may be.

You hear a crash, then shatter of glass. You turn and see Rafayel hunched over a table with the glass on the floor adjacent to him. His knuckles white from gripping the table. The shaking of his shoulders, you’re unsure of from rage or sadness, is prevalent. It isn’t till he lets out a choked sob do you know why he is shaking.

“Rafayel… babe?” Your voice barely above a whisper. You watch his head snap up at your voice. His face puffy and red. Eyes sore from tears. When he speaks his voice is hoarse. “(Y/N)? You’re here?” He larches forward slowly afraid you’ll disappear. “Wh- why?” His voice breaks as more tears begin to fall.

“Thomas… called me. Are you ok? What happened. I was worried when you stopped texting but I assumed you were busy!” You begin to lead him to the couch clearing off papers and sketch books. (All full of you btw)

“Thomas… you answer Thomas’ calls? But not mine?! Why?! Why did you just leave?! What happened?! What did I do to you that made you break down in my front garden!?” You look shocked at his outburst and look away taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You don’t remember?” He shakes his head no. From the slight gesture you can tell he got dizzy. He hasn’t eaten you can tell by the way you see his veins strain to pump blood through his body.

“4 days ago… you rejected my affection. And when I said I wanted to be close to you. You called me clingy and annoying. After I made food for us…” you sigh and look at him. You see he’s deep in thought trying to recount those memories.

“These past days… I’ve just been trying to give you space, to complete the painting. And your texts made me think you didn’t care about what you said so-“ you get cut off by a strong embrace. Whimpers and sobs are muffled by your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t remember… I was zoned out so hard I forgot who you were. In my mind in that moment you weren’t you. I guess I was so frustrated cause the piece just wasn’t working. Idk who my mind made you to be but that’s not how I think of you. You’re the only person in the entire world I’d let even be around me while I paint.” He takes your hands and presses soft kisses to them. “I’m so sorry I made you feel less than utterly precious. You are my priceless conch, whose voice is a song I’d listen to on repeat. My actions can’t and won’t just be excused and I don’t deserve forgiveness for making you cry.”

You kiss his hands and get him to stop talking. “My artist… my lemurian… my Rafayel. I do forgive you. You said yourself you were frustrated and that’s a valid emotion. But my emotions are valid to. I know I wasn’t being mature giving you the cold shoulder. I was just angry and hurt that I thought you forgot but you really didn’t remember. I’m sorry Yel’… I love you more than anything, and I never meant for this to happen. You gesture to the room and the state of his home.

You embrace him this time. Stroking his hair and shedding tears with him. Soon he looks up at you with puffy doe eyes. “Can we get something to eat… I haven’t eaten anything since the lobster rolls.” Your eyes widen.

“Raf! Seriously?!” The gasp and shriek make his head spin. He gives a nod shyly.

You hop up and head to the kitchen. Making water and food for him. You feel arms wrap around you as you cook. Soft kisses are peppered against your neck, as rafayel inhales your sent. “I missed you… oh, what did Thomas call you for?”

You turn to face him. “He wanted to make sure you got to center piece for the gala done… is it?”

You see him bite his lip and give a guilty smile. “Noooo… I’ve been busy… crying… you know cause my muse wasn’t around to give me inspiration.” He teases and laughs weakly as you give an offended scoff.

“I have some inspiration right now but I don’t think I could even lift a pencil right now.” He leans fully on your shoulder. Basking in your warmth as a yawn rips its way out of him.

He’s at peace. How could he not be, his muse is back in his arms.

————————————————————————————————————————

Bro… 4am thoughts be hitting different. But I wrote so much that it extended to a couple of days. Fun fact I was gonna do the other two as well but there was too much BUT RAFAYEL WILL HAVE A SMUT CONTINUATION OF THIS AND SO WILL THE OTHER BOYS!

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊

Mother Nature

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)

Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.

Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...

You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.

The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.

Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.

When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?

One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.

Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...

Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.

You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.

Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.

Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.

Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.

Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.

Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work.  Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.

The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.

Not you.

You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.

One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.

You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.

However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.

For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).

Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.

„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"

Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."

"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."

"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."

You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.

You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."

Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.

[lbcreations-blog]

Holy Mother Of Many

Summary: You are the wife of God himself. You both made many amazing angelic children such as Lucifer and Sera, one day in many of the galaxys and cosmos problems occurred, so you set out to fix the problems while intrusting your husband with your children. But what you didn't know was when leaving many bad things would happen, making hardly any good come out of it.

Female mother reader

All plotonic

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Words: 1121

Masterlist

You had a relationship with the holy father God himself. You were his devine wife, the holy mother of all creations. You were together since the start of everything.

You had many devine children, one of your favorites being little Lucifer. Just seeing him when he was a baby, you knew he would have a similar personality to you. Sadly, you never got to find out due to you having to leave to do other things like glaxeys and cosmos to look after. Before you left, you instructed your husband to look after both of your creations. You then left the home you loved.

Oh, how would you regret that decision.

??? Years later

You were now working on a glaxey in your main form (which is like atleast 300ft tall) when you realized you should really take a vacay and see your husband again and all your angelic children, I mean it has been many many many many many many many years.

A few mins later, you arrived in front of heavens gates in your smol form (7 ft tall). About to walk in, you saw a blonde male at a podium. "Oh greetings, mister!" You said to the man. "Welcome to heaven ma'am! May I please get your name." The man said to you.

"Name? Why do you need my name?" You asked. "Well-" "St Peter, let me deal with this," Sera interrupted Peter and told him so while flying down from somewhere. "Yes, Sera," St Peter said, then flying away. "Wait, Sera?" You said, "Hello mother, " Sera said softly, smiling. You quickly hugged her. "Oh, Sera, my darling daughter!" You said.

You moved slightly backward so you can have eye contact with her. "Oh, sweety, you're all grown up! Im so sorry that i haven't been here!" You told Sera. "It's alright, mother," she told you. "Anyway, what's up with the whole name thing? And where's Luci? And all my other beautiful children?" You asked her.

"Let's go and talk about this somewhere else," Sera said as she telaported you both into what you assumed was her office. "Take a seat, mother," Sera told you. You listened to your daughter and sat down on the comfortable seat.

"You see Mother when you left. Father decided to sleep once i and some of the others were old enough, and he is still sleeping. When he first fell asleep, some of the oldest ones and I made a project called Earth, and we made these creatures called humans. And well... Lucifer destroyed it with childish actions. He brought evil into earth, and in turn, he created his own doman fill of that evil. He lives there, ruling the doman of evil." Sera told you.

"WHAT⁉️"

TIME SKIP

"You know what, I'm going down there to check on him," you told Sera. "But mother," Sera began "no don't even think about it, Sera," you said, getting up. "Yes, mother," Sera said, making a portal in front of the hotel for you. "I'll talk to you more once i return," you said, entering the portal. "Yes, mother," she said not trying to upset you anymore.

"I wonder why Sera telaported me in front of a hotel." You sighed. "Oh well, he's probably in there. I can sense my boy," you said, walking up to the door.

You knocked on the door, and a few minutes later, a pink and white spider looking guy opened it and looked at you in shock. "Hey uh Vaggie there is an angel at the door!" The guy said toward what you saw to be an ex angel, going by her aura, wings, and lack of halo, at least.

"Oh shoot, I'll go get Charlie you let her get comfy," Vaggie said to the pink and white spider guy. "But isn't she busy with something important with Alastor?" The guy asked. "Oh, right! I guess I'll get Lucifer and be nice to her Angel!" Vaggie said, running up the hotel stairs. You smiled at the mention of Lucifer, You were so excited to see your son.

You now sat on the couch, which the man named Angel kindly led you to sit on and wait. While waiting, who you now learned was named Angel dust tried making small talk with you. But it did not really end up well he seemed to be nervous for some reason, but you decided not to overlook it in some way.

After a few minutes of waiting, a portal finally opened. Lucifer walked into the hotel lobby and made eye contact with you. You immediately telaported to him and tightly hugged him. "Oh Luci, my son. I'm so happy to see you again!" You told him.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Lucifer asked you. "To see you ofcourse" You told him, holding his rosy cheeks and looking down at him. "I would have came much much earlier if I knew what happened to you all those years ago, but I intrusted your now excuse of a father to you and your siblings."

"Are you alright, though? I'm aware the... Fall. Was, alot," "Of course im alright Mom, i have a daughter now. " Your smile increased at that information. "I have a granddaughter?!" You asked Lucifer, squishing his rosy cheeks even more. "Indeed you do, mom," Lucifer told you. "Oh my word, im a grandmother! That's crazy so where is she?" You asked him.

"Well... she just walked through the doors right now. " You looked behind you seeing the splitting image of your son in a female form. You smiled cheek to cheek upon seeing this just seeing her. You knew the both had at least a similar personality.

"Dad, why is there an angel here?" His daughter asked. "Charlie, this is your grandmother." "It's nice to meet you, my granddaughter." "It's nice to meet you too. My name is Charlie, but you already know that, i have one question, though: how come i did not see you in heaven?" Charlie asked.

"Well, i was busy with a lot of work at that moment," you told her. "Oh! uhm! Can I tell you about this project im working on!?" Charlie asked you. "Sure ofcourse go ahead. I'd love to hear of such" Charlie bounced up upon hearing that and started walking you through the hotel with your son that Vaggie girl and what you sensed to be a smiling fellow behind he did not speak yet though.

You needed to wake up your husband and scoled him for his passed actions and Sera as well, but for now, you would enjoy the company of the Hazbin Hotel.

Taglist: @fatherlesschild2 @whitewingsh @iheartpieck @i-yuki @ilovemyths2003

Taglist ask area

-L.B Creations

[bhaalble]

Indulgent as the concept of Gortash mourning Durge is I tend to resist it a little in my own canon. Largely on the back of "Orin told me how she humiliated you". Two things can be true at once: Gortash has a lot of history with and affection for Durge. And Gortash plans to WIN. His plans for the moment need the alliance of Bhaal's Chosen. For the time being: that Chosen is Orin. Its why he works with her without much complaint after Durge vanishes, why he has the line "we agreed not to meddle in each other's affairs" ready to go when Durge asks him why he never looked for them. This is also why I believe he makes beating her a requirement for properly reviving the old alliance (the vows are renewed, but you're not getting any active help from him until you work out succession issues with your sister). He would prefer it be Durge! But he can't afford to publicly move against Orin. In the event that Durge loses he'll be in breach of contract enough that she'll have the go ahead to kill him. He'll hedge his bets rather than risk backing the wrong horse, because he knows too well the consequences of getting on the bad side of Bhaal's champion.

What compels me, though, are the little potential moments of self-betrayal. The flickers of wounded ego when he sees them with their companions, and the smugness when he reveals who they are. Did they really think they knew a thing about you? The poor fools have been wandering around with a lion thinking its a house cat. They don't know what it really means to stick their hand in your jaws and emerge unscathed. No one but him ever truly has.

Nostalgia and some kind of unnnameable complexity when he hears from his sources that you've been busy in the hells. A reminder of where this all started....and his old host dead at your hands. Did you remember, he wonders, the little things he'd let slip about his time in the House of Hope? Was it on your mind when you did your bloody work on Raphael? He wonders what it would have been like to see it. If you would have let him come with if he had known to ask. Hardly your first journey to the hells.

Not his only parental figure you encounter. Its when he realizes you're at his parents (seen through the eyes of his Steel Watch, he can't resist checking in from time to time. He assures himself its to make sure the wheels are still in motion) he feels real dread. He never told you the Flymms were alive, much less tadpoled. But is the prickling he feels fear that you'll uncover something? A childish irritation that you might break his least favorite toys? Or shame that he's not there to soften this revelation for you, that his humiliating origin is known while he can't say a thing to paint over it as inconsequential?

The unexpected pride he feels when you return with Orin's blade. Even addled and physically deteriorated by everything that was done to you these last months, you triumphed. No more looking over his shoulder for Orin's blade.....and, he realizes privately. All those pretty words he's said about a future ruled by the two of you may suddenly not just be words anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something like destiny at work here.

[saintvainglorious]

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

[floralcyanidee]

ɴsғᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ - ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ ᴄʀᴀɴᴇ

Jonathan Crane x AFAB!reader

Behold the NSFW alphabet for Jonathan Crane.

warnings: smut, mentions of kinks, descriptions of kinks/sex

author’s note: I've seen people do these for a lot of characters/ people I have loved over the years, so I decided it was time I did my own. Obviously, none of this is canon, it's just my imagination lol. I'm still shadowbanned on my main tumblr, so I guess I'll be hanging out here for a while. But I'm still on that tumblr daily! Thanks for all your support (':

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Despite his desire to be rough or detached during sex, Jonathan always ensures you’re cared for and comforted afterward. This includes a warm bath if needed, some cuddling (if he really cares for you), and helping you clean up. If Jonathan has an attachment to you, he’ll spend the rest of the session just hugging up to you and telling you how good you did.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Jonathan loves your legs- from your ankles to the apex of your thighs. He can't get enough of them, whether they’re wrapped around his waist, on either side of his head, or on his shoulders. Jonathan will bite and squeeze your thighs, often leaving marks and bruises. He’ll kiss up your calves and knees during missionary (which is rare unless he has taken a liking to you). On his own body, he guesses his torso or arms. They’re not too lanky or too buff, they’re a nice in-between. Jonathan’s body is lean and fit; he thinks it’s ideal enough. He’d rather focus on your body in general.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Jonathan is such a cum slut. He’ll make sure to take all of you when he eats you out, licking and lapping at you until every drop is accounted for. Sometimes, if he’s feeling kinky enough, he’ll spit it into your mouth and let you spit it back into his. Jonathan also loves watching you swallow his cum or watch you take his load on your face. It causes him to get worked up all over again, no matter how spent he is. He enjoys cumming inside you, too. It’s one of his favorite things, especially when hitting it raw. 

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Jonathan has a panty kink. He will steal your underwear any chance he can get, which is often. You pretend you don’t notice your favorite pairs going missing after visiting him, and you eventually feed into his addiction. He just loves your scent and the feel of the lace or cotton of your underwear between his fingers. Many would find this gross, but Jonathan finds it hot.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Jonathan definitely knows what he’s doing, even if he acts oblivious to most things. He lost his virginity at a reasonable age and has had many partners who have taught him just about everything he knows. Some stuff he’s learned on his own, though. Jonathan takes good care of you in the bedroom, making sure you’re just as pleased as him every time.

F= Favorite position

This man loves doggy through and through. Sure, missionary (if he likes you) and laying on your side feel good, but slamming his cock into you as deep as he can go from behind? Doggy is chef's kiss, in Jonathan’s opinion. He could ram into you forever, feeling you clench around him as his tip hits your cervix dead on. It never gets old.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Jonathan isn’t really a goofy person anyway, so he isn’t goofy during sex, either. Sure, if a mishap occurs, he may crack a smile, but other than that, he’s composed. 

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He keeps himself pretty neat hair-wise. He’s trimmed but not clean-shaven- he thinks it’s a tad too much work. Besides, a little hair isn’t going to hurt anyone.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Jonathan likes it hot and dirty most of the time. He’ll get rough and grab you by the throat or grip your body with a vice, making sure you can’t move. Jonathan will take you against a wall, in the bed until the headboard breaks, and in the office bathroom if a quickie is needed. Every time is rough enough for you to be sore the following day. As I’ve mentioned a few times, if Jonathan has feelings for you, he doesn’t mind a little romance. He’ll be gentle and look you in the eye as he fucks you, his eyes full of wonder and endearment. 

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Jonathan used to rely on getting himself off just about every day until you stumbled into his life. Now, he doesn’t really think much of it unless you ask him to do it in front of you. Other than that, he has you to let out his sexual frustration.

K= Kink (kinks what they like, possibly unusual)

Boy, oh boy. Spitting, choking, blood, knife/gun, light bondage (sometimes actual bondage if Jonathan’s in a mood), spanking, slapping, hair-pulling, biting, fear (of course), cum-swapping/eating, degrading, the list goes on. I feel like Jonathan would enjoy exploring things with you. 

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Jonathan loves having sex with you quite literally anywhere he can. Preferably the bed where it’s comfortable, but if you’re in public or at work, he’ll take you to the bathroom. If he needs you immediately while at home, he’ll pin you against the wall or fuck you on the couch. Sometimes, the counter as well if it’s the spur of the moment.

M= Motivation (things that make them tick/turn-ons)

Seeing your legs, any time you’re confident in yourself, pulling his hair, biting his ear, you being afraid/ terrified, when you’re walking around the house naked (even if for a moment, he spares you nothing), seeing you happy or angry.

N= No (turn offs or absolutely won’t do)

Any body fluids other than spit, blood, or cum, torture to the full extent isn’t his thing (he doesn’t want to actually hurt you), full-on public play isn’t something he’s into either, but semi-public play is something he’s cool with.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Jonathan is magical with his mouth, so you’re always up for oral. He can work his tongue like none other and give the right amount of attention everywhere. He also loves it when you’re taking him with your mouth, gagging and crying around his length. Jonathan could thrust into your throat forever and be content. Jonathan, overall, enjoys both giving and receiving.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

He is pretty quick in his movements, especially when he’s feeling unhinged. Jonathan will not be merciful when he’s feeling this way either, he will grab you somewhere on your body and use you like a toy and fuck you senseless. He can go numerous rounds, so he can last hours sometimes. This is a blessing and curse, depending on your libido.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Jonathan (as I’ve said) will totally fuck you while you’re both at work in the bathroom or sometimes in a closet at a friend’s house if you attend dinner together. Even at home, if you’re both in the mood for something quick, the kitchen counter is notorious for your quickie rendezvous. Jonathan always goes fast and hard with your quickies. There’s nothing slow or romantic about them.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Between the two of you, there’s always something new going on in the bedroom. Sometimes, you’ll stumble upon something that interests you, and it’s the same for Jonathan. Most of the things he’s into, he knows he’s into them because he’s tried them with you. You’re constantly challenging him to try new things in the spur of the moment, too. One time, you asked Jonathan to tie up your hands with his tie because you thought he looked really good in it that day. Now you’ve graduated to handcuffs. It took some convincing and trust-checking for you to finally let him try to fear toxin on you, and even though it was terrifying, it was the best sex you’ve ever had.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

God, this man can go several rounds and can go for hours like the Energizer Bunny. Every round differs in duration depending on how quickly you cum and how quickly he does as well. It also depends on how worked up you both get with every round.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Oh boy. Jonathan loves using different toys on you, especially the Hitachi. He will make you spread your legs on the bed and put it against your clit as he sits and watches from across the room. Sometimes, he’ll use a bunny to spice things up, pushing in and out of you at a snail’s pace, much to your disliking. He is hesitant to let you use toys on him, but you’ve brought up the idea of a vibrating cock ring, to which he said he’d think about it. 

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves?)

As I mentioned, Jonathan has tortured you (not literally) with toys, teasing, and new kinks. His favorite thing is teasing you until you’re overly wet and turned on, squirming for his touch. Jonathan also loves being teased, but only sometimes. He has to be in the mood for it, or else he’ll just get pissy.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Jonathan gets loud when the sex is really feral, which is most of the time. He’ll grunt in your ear and speak dirty words into it as he stutters and moans from how tight you are around him. He’ll praise you over and over and say your name like a mantra when he’s coming down from his high. There’s nothing Jonathan loves more than speaking your name as you milk him dry.

W= Wild card (random sin cannon of any sort)

Strip poker. Or stripping while playing any game, really. As odd as it sounds, Jonathan likes to play this, especially with chess. You aren’t too good at it, but you’re learning. So, of course, you’re the one to strip most of the time. Sometimes, the two of you will play actual poker, and you usually beat him, making him grumble as he takes off an article of clothing. Usually, this is your kinkiest kind of sex because of the slow build.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Jonathan is fairly average while soft, but when he’s hard, he’s pretty big. Not big enough to hurt, but big enough to make you full and miss that fullness when he pulls out of you. He knows how to use his cock properly in a way that it won’t bruise you unless he’s feeling violent or you want him to hurt you. Then he’s like an animal with what’s in his pants.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Jonathan yearned for you for so long before you finally had interaction, both platonic and sexual. He would touch himself to the thought of you until he had the real thing. So, for the first few months of your relationship (or whatever this is), he was borderline addicted to exploring you and your body. His sex drive level was insane and still is sometimes. Like I’ve said, man could go for hours, especially if it’s with you.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after? if so, how quickly after)

For Jonathan, sex either energizes him or knocks him the fuck out, all depending on how wild you get. Suppose it’s a rough session. In that case, he’ll curl up with you to his chest and fall asleep almost immediately following your aftercare. It’s cute. Sometimes, you’ll watch him sleep and realize that maybe you love him, and maybe he loves you too.

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist @sstar-ggirl @mypoisonedvine @queenshelby @babybluebex @arieslost @nefhertari @forgottenpeakywriter @october-atoner @starbxnny @llucky-llove @annasuifairydance @ynisthatyou @darkmoviesquotespizza @newtsniffles @madlittlecriminal @acapelladitty @cranesbathtowel

[absolutebl]

What are some BL couples who you DO think could actually have a long haul perfect ending and not burn out two months after the show ends?

(Also if possible, could you drop the show titles aswell? Thanks)

20 BL Couples I Love & Think Would Actually Make it In the Long Run

Ha, yeah I intentionally didn't include the titles in that last post because I was being negative. Since these are positive... here you go!

Advance Bravely

I know right? One from China. But yeah I think they're very opposites attract but still well balanced and suited to each other. Plus "stern but indulgent Daddy + spoiled brat" is a favorite dynamic of mine.

Guardian

He waited 10,000 gd years. It has to work out. Despite censorship.

Old Fashion Cupcake

They both mature enough to be very motivated.

Tokyo in April Is

They suffered for that love. It's an enduring eternal kinda thing.

Cherry Blossoms After Winter

Taesung is NEVER letting him go. Never.

Long Time No See

Not only are they staying together, can you imagine anyone trying to separate them?

Nobleman Ryu's Wedding

I just think they gonna live in obscurity in the middle of the woods with their books forever.

Our Dating Sim

Of course they're gonna last, that was the whole point of the show.

Oh Boarding House

I think they both had to come around to each other with a lot of self-examination as to what it meant for them, their identities, and their lives. That kind of thoughtfulness bodes well for longevity.

(This is an under-appreciated gem. IMHO)

Be Loved In House I Do

Yeah they just so into each other but also adoring but understand each other's quirks. There's no meanness or pettiness to either of them. Double down on affection + chemistry is a good recipe for longevity.

DNA Says Love You

They came back for, and waited for, each other.

HIStory Obsessed

It's in the title. This level of mutually obsessed disfunction only ends in death.

HIStory 4: Close to You

Problematic side couple. Dito the above.

Thousand Stars

It's high romance of the eternal forever kind.

2 Moons Ambassador

They are *that* couple. "I married my college sweetheart and am incandescently happy forever in a disgustingly sappy way" that shouldn't work but does.

My Only 12%

Again, they suffered too much not to make it work. They are basically each other's half, it codependent, but that's the point.

Ingredients

They define domesticity. The true key to most couple longevity is the ability to actually live together.

Oh My Sunshine Night

File these two under the "once he had a taste, its' forever." The seme is too bossy and too possessive for anyone but the one he picked. This one lasts because Rain would MAKE IT last.

Oxygen

Dito the above, only softer.

Until We Meet Again

Of course. I mean, OF COURSE OF COURSE. That's the point. Dean's entire existence would be a failure if they broke up.

Despite my love of the genre I didn't pick any high school BL couples. Even if I think they may have a chance I'm not sure how I feel about that kind of pairing.

I didn't pick ones we know lasted because they showed it to us: e.g. Unintentional Love Story, His, Dear Doctor, My Ride.

There are a few I left off because I think they could last as a couple but the circumstances of their lives and surrounding, means I'm not sure if they would be allowed to, like Not Me, Never Let Me Go, Manner of Death.

(source)