#i suck with titles so

[jacks-the-flower]

darling i just can't get you out of my head, your scent lingers in my old jumper

~~~~~~

It was so elusive, so mind-boggling. It put her brain on the edge of an idea and her tongue ready to burst out with the answer.

Hang on, was that her old perfume?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a peculiar thing, something so familiar yet so unanticipated. She caught it at the edge of her own perception, sweetly reaching her senses with a dubious flair. It was something she knew well, something that she knew a little too well. What was it? It was right there for her to grasp, but the concept was elusive. Perhaps there was too much going on around her.

She stood before him, simultaneously at home and exposed. What would he think of her now? Did he remember her? Did he still believe in the end of that sentence? Why did he change? Was he alone? What was that smell?

Now she understood it, the floral scent of her past. Her past with him. But why was she discerning it now? Was it the reminder of everything, of what she’d had with him, what they had been? Unless…

She approached him slowly, artfully prowling towards him, making herself known yet advancing calmly and disarmingly. There was no need for her curiosity to scare him off. 

She stopped a few feet away from him, drawn in by her own scent. It wasn’t her scent anymore, however, it was his. It mingled with his own various aromas; the wool coat, the leather polish on his hands and shoes, the grease from the TARDIS, what must be numerous hair gel products he’d used. His scent was quite unique, yes, but under all of that: her. 

“Are you going to say anything?”

Her golden brown eyes flickered to his own green-tinged ones. She’d never thought that any other pairs of eyes would be as entrancing, or scents for that matter. Somehow this version was the most intoxicating, boyish but ancient and venerable, something new in ways that she hadn’t experienced from him. When she looked into his eyes, she saw an openness that hadn’t been there. He was somehow, simultaneously, more guarded than she’d ever seen him, and yet more open to her.

“Am I- is it… good different? Bad different?”

His eyes grew worried and lines started to appear in assent with his fears, she supposed it was now time to say something, “You’ve been using my soaps.”

He gave a light chuckle at that, bowing his head a little in confirmation, “Yes well, I had to, well I- I had to…” he stammered uncertainly, “keep you with me somehow.” He looked back up at her, “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been, well…” he paused before blurting out, “I’ve been using your room.”

She raised her brows, he what?

“Well some nights, I’m in the hammock; lovely things hammocks, quite comfortable.” 

Ah, a familiar habit. He did so love a good babble, in both of the bodies she knew. Though her first one seemed to prefer it from her while she was cross with someone. He’d had beautiful blue eyes then, though his new green ones were just as gorgeous. He smelt of leather polish in that face too. 

She slowly pulled her hand up, sweeping along the hem of his coat on its way.

“I erm, I can move back out if you’d like,” she kept moving ever so slowly, brushing over his hearts, enjoying his impatient jitters, “who am I kidding of course you’d like me to move out of your very own, very personal room. That’s,” he gasped out as she pressed her hand against his cheek, drawing circles behind his ear, taking in the details of his new face, “that’s just common sense. In fact, it was wrong of me to take up residence in the first place, what was I even thinking? Stupid Doctor, never thinking about what you want.”

And with that, she was thrust back into uncomfortable memories; moments where they were so close, but separated by a wall of fear and uncertainty. Now isn’t that a funny comparison.

Her hand had stilled and she brought it down to caress his chin, “If I’m allowed back, I can’t do that again, Doctor.”

He stepped impossibly closer to her, knocking her hand down to his chest where she could feel his hammering double-heart rate, and reached up to cup both sides of her face with his hands, staring intensely into her eyes, “It was never, ever an if, Rose Tyler. It was always a matter of when.”

She peered into his eyes, searching for the deceit, the lie to placate her. She found nothing but determination and adoration. He looked amazed, presumably at her, his eyes drifting over her features; she’d almost call it reverent. Did he still have that much faith in her? After all of this time?

“How long has it been, Doctor?” she questioned softly, lips moving faster than her mind. 

His eyes dimmed, skirting from her face, and he withdrew his hands from her cheeks. She missed them.

He retreated in on himself slightly, stepping back and slouching down, bringing his arms in close, wringing his hands. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She missed them too.

“It’s difficult to place exactly, but my guess is around three-hundred, three-hundred ‘n fifty, years.” It was a painful thing to imagine, but not a surprising one. He was older.

Then again so was she.

She couldn't help her regret in not finding him sooner. Centuries had passed and they had to move forward. It changed them. “I’m so sorry, Doctor; I’m so late,” she told him mournfully.

He smiled bitterly at that, still looking to the side, “Something tells me I’m late too,” he said, green eyes finally looking at hers once again. She understood immediately; there was always something of the wolf about her. Though wolves don’t tend to live as long.

He faced her fully again, gazing at her with a great jumble of emotions, “I suppose we’re a bit more evenly matched now, not that we weren’t before but…” At that, his eyes grew more pained and guilt-ridden, conveying what she thought was an apology. Those eyes were always quite expressive weren’t they.

She approached him once more, this time she snaked both of her hands around his neck, his own moving to rest on her hips. She fixed her eyes directly on to his, trying to convey as much love and determination as she could, “You’ve got my forever, Doctor, do I have yours?”

He drew her in closer, resting their foreheads together, “I think you’ve always had my forever, Rose,” he took a deep breath in, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She took her own breath in, cataloging his new scent of antiquities and floral soap. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, before confessing, “I love you.”

She knew what would happen next, he never gets to finish his sentence. She was fine with that, content even, only knowing that he felt so much for her. It didn’t have to be said.

“I love you too, Rose Tyler.”

She snapped her eyes open, flitting over his face – nose, hair, ears, cheeks, eyebrows - before settling on his eyes; his ever expressive, blue-then-brown-now-green eyes. He was fixed on to her, transfixed on her face, her own eyes. Amazed, relieved, and genuine all at once. It was not the platitude that she might have expected, it was a truth in the way he looked at her, held her in his arms, caressed her features. In the way that he used her old soaps and slept in her room, three-hundred something years after she was gone. 

“Yeah?” She felt a weight lift from her chest, something she’d never known about. She felt herself brighten and she smiled at him, giddy with the new revelation. She always knew he loved her, but now she believed it.

“Yeah,” He followed suit, lips growing wider and wider, toothier and toothier. It was a marvelous sight for a face so marred by regret and guilt to be so openly happy, so openly in love. She found that it was intoxicating. She found him intoxicating.

Every bit of him - clothes, cadence, scent, hair, freckles - was fascinating and new, but intensely familiar in ways she wasn’t sure he'd readily admit. She found herself loving him all over again.

She always fell right back in love, even when he changed faces and preferences. She just grew to cherish each and every new characteristic and quirk. Like the eyes that were staring at her. Like the lips curved into a small, fond smile.

She slowly raked her eyes up from his lips, leisurely gliding over his features. His eyes were heavy-lidded, no doubt from watching her sultry show. She saw the same feelings that she had reflected within herself; attraction, fondness, intoxication, and love. 

He leaned his head down and she tilted hers up, moving in a familiarity they shared in their old lives. When their lips met, she realized that this was in fact so wonderfully new. They were not so young back then to not have shared a kiss between them, but this one was different. Different in the way they held a tenderness between them instead of stunted longing. Different in the way they embraced each other with care and affection. Different in the way they could taste the devotion and determination they’d been too fearful to commit to. 

His tongue flicked out along her bottom lip and she opened up to him fully, one hand threading through his hair. His left hand slowly traveled up from her hip to the small of her back, nails grazing her skin. The physical and mental effect it had on her caused her to gently pull back for air; the bridges of their noses resting together, their hands in wandered places. 

She had taken a few moments of stillness before realizing how mentally connected they had become. A soft presence was intermingled with her mind, sharing in her love and admiration as they became closer than they previously dared. 

She opened her eyes and found him, his own eyes already wide and fixed on hers. She smiled softly and sent a warm wave of emotions to him, focussing on reassurance and determination as well as tenderness and adoration.

He breathed out a short puff, breaking out into another disbelieving smile. He brought the hand from her hip up to her cheek and kissed her again, this time with excitement and enthusiasm. His tongue dipped into her mouth again, energetically brushing over the back of her teeth and soft palate. A small laugh bubbled up from her chest and he pulled back, sharing in her euphoria.

He settled back down, loosening his hold to a comfortable embrace. “Am I dreaming?” he breathed out.

She hummed at him, “That depends, what would your dream say?”

“No.” he said, shaking his head slightly.

She smirked thoughtfully, tilting her head to mock-think, “Then yes,” she decided, giving him a tongue-touched smile that she knew made his mind misfire. And misfire it did, if the stumbling rush of consciousness brushing against her was anything to go by.

He rocked forward excitedly, before pausing, eyes alight with mirth, “Well hang on now, is that a yes to me dreaming or a yes in contrast to what my dream would say?”

She just smiled wider, “Can I stick around and find out?”

“Darling, you,” he kissed both of her cheeks, before looking right at her, genuinely, “can move in with me.”

She felt giddy at that, sharing it across their connection, but outwardly maintaining her playful demeanor, “Weeeell,” she drawled out, “your home is pretty big, infinite, you could say.”

He chuckled, holding her tight, “That she is.”

He slowed for a moment, taking a deep breath, before looking at her in earnest, “Be there when I wake up?” he asked hopefully.

She reached up a hand to brush his hair, giving him a fond smile and a caress of conviction and certainty. 

“Forever.”

[paramorefold]

The Only Exception (2010)

Still Into You (2013)

Hard Times (2017)

Thick Skull (2024)

BONUS: Now (2013)

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Don’t Call Him Jealous

—

Time written-6:10 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (I’m on mobile so image is huge, but c’mon it’s Jason. Take him in)

—

“Look at that, babe,” His hot, erotic rumble roared your heart into an irritating, intense drum in your chest, heating up the tips of your ears.

“It’s crying for me, begging me to have a taste.”

Hungry eyes kept an intense focus on the mirror in front of you both, the hardwood floor pooling with your arousal. He held both your legs junction over his propped up knees, keeping you spread open for his viewing pleasure alone.

Your bare chest heaved with sweat, perky nipples heavily flushed from countless pinches in between his thumbs. Repeated begs for him to slow down to give you an ounce of a break fell on deaf ears, a forearm secured between the valley of your tits, grasping you close as he fucked you with his fingers.

Overstimulation became your toxic lover, sparking you up in pain with the promise of pleasure, quickly following eachother in an endless loop.

Bucking away didn’t help, he’d only hook his fingers against your G-spot harder, forcing your ass back against his hard, girthy cock, swollen and throbbing for pussy behind the prison of his red gym shorts.

You were in a dress, at one point. A dress you kept in its protective plastic hanger for weeks. Now, it laid abandoned, torn and neglected scraps on the ground since the second Jason saw you in it.

What was his main concern about it? “Nothing.”

The fabric was a rich, deep silky blue, caressing your body perfectly in every way. His biggest issue was a certain cocky bastard, who’s signature color just so happens to lay in pieces on the ground.

Yes, he’d get calls and texts from the rest once they realize he failed to attend yet another Gala. Yes, they’d most likely realize that it wasn’t you who had planned to miss it in the first place.

The last thing he wanted was said certain cocky Grayson to make even so much as a thought of a snarky comment on such. Knowing him, he would.

It was all Jason; the man who didn’t bother to think of the tux he was supposed to have picked up from the dry cleaners before coming home from the gym.

All he had on hand was you, working up to your fourth climax in front of your bedroom mirror. A beautiful, erotic mess of smeared lipstick and cloudy mascara tears, moaning endlessly on his fingers before working you open on his cock.

Never catch him thinking he wasn’t a giver. It was his second favorite sport.

“Pretty, pretty,” Jason murmurs against your neck, kissing along your flushed skin. “Pretty, pretty girl. Y’know what I want, huh? Give it to me.”

“C-C-Can’t,” you exhale, both your hands clutching his working forearm, needlessly crying out broken words and drawn out cries as the fire in your tense tummy threatened to burst.

“J-Jay, J-J-Jay, I-I can’t! S’too much!!”

“Come on, babygirl. Don’t be like that, give me what I want. Come on, baby. Come on, come on.”

He urges via lustfully hasty words in your right ear, bucking his fingers deeper and faster into your stretched walls, the palm of his calloused hand directly abusing your swollen, rosy little clit.

Your nails dig deeper into his forearm, deep enough to add onto his collection of angry scars as liquid heat surges through your veins. A collection of trembling cries erupted from your quivering, rouge smeared lips as his palm grew soaked.

He grunts out a pleased groan in tandem with yours, nearly drowned out by your whimpering as if he was the one that came, forcing every nerve in your body to shiver.

“There we go,” Jason cooes, working his fingers until he picks up on those irritated, little overstimulated whines he recognized by memory, telling him to slow down without use of words.

Only, your body didn’t give him what he wanted. Almost, but not yet.

He listened for now, retreating his fingers, lingering about to pry your soaked lips apart, biting back a deep growl at your soaked, gaping pink hole.

Never more than now did he want to stuff you full, but he was working for something a little more… eye catching.

He enjoyed what he saw right now; maroon lipstick smeared off the edges of your lips, transferred onto his the second he kissed you against your mirror. Pink scratches and dabbled love bites that would morph into rich, wine bruises littering your neck and shoulders.

Red, pure red from your blooming cheeks, aroused skin, sore breasts, and abused pussy.

A dirty, surface drenching show only your body could provide, ignited by his favorite hue of color, by any means necessary. So. why stop at four?

Without a word, Jason dips a finger back inside your cavern, feeling your body nearly wince from the intrusion, a low little whine escaping your deflated lungs.

“Jasooon,” you croak, your rising hips instantly jolted back against his lap by a strong grip on your hip, followed by the click of his tongue. “Please—“

“Not done yet, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing along your neck as his other finger joins in, expertly finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers, determined to go for five.

Blue wasn’t a good color on you anyway.

[miiilowo]

SO WON'T YOU COME WITH ME, AND TASTE IMMORTALITY?

[koltira]

[uncleardyn]

(alan wake-gravity falls crossover) 12 year old girl and her new best friend, the sopping wet sad dog of a writer she found face down on the front lawn

[blueberrybluestar]

pirate majima was not what i was expecting but by god i'll fucking take it

[brucewaynehater101]

Me: *throughly enjoying a fic*

Fic: *batfam starts forcing a character to do shit the character is obviously uncomfortable with and doesn't want to do all for that character's "best interest"*

Me: "Fuck."

[prophecysgirl]

like, i love you dude.

[freshbeeth]

case in fucking point

[moonshynecybin]

was vale watching the podium? cause if yes then that's no doubt why marc was making sex faces during the national anthem. not only did he win on the track closest to vale's home while he knew vale was watching but he also made facial expressions that vale hasn't seen in yearsss but sometimes still sees in his nightmares

he actually had a helicopter come and fly him the 17km back to the ranch like he disappeared in a valentino rossi shaped puff of smoke he was DONE

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[theposhperyton]

All evidence suggests yes

[renae-the-turtle]

Art for my fanfic, Charmy and the Dad Talk; I did the drawing and line art, and @alcadanon did the colours using alcohol markers!

Link to the fic here:

[mnih765]

Sonic x Shadow, am I right?

Reference from the trailer:

[voldheart]

they Are twins but theyre not IDENTICAL so i wanted to share my take on big knight :-)

+ my headcanon on how it would work. kind of. it is post embrace the void ending