#tw problematic thoughts

[lloydkin-kinlloyd]

!!Vent!!

Omg bro I wanna kms. Having problematic thoughts that you grew up being fed by your family members and now your older and know better but you have to unlearn and confront all the small things that contribute to it is so frustrating man. Like damn I hate myself fr fr.

[blownawayy]

every time i think “all will be alright”, something bad happens

[tobyisave]

Little animations for my DR tic headcanons!! To be so clear this is *not* me trying to create good rep, this is explicitly me projecting my own tics onto some little guys using gimmicky plot points and then making art about it! so like. grain of salt and a little ableism cw 👍

Chiaki who freezes and shudders in overstimulating environments, ostensibly because her tics are triggered by sound/light/motion — but then in Ch.6 you learn she was actually just lagging when the computer had too much stuff to render nearby. This makes it even more disorienting postcanon when they remember the real Chiaki, who had a slightly different personality and completely different tics. Most of them were omitted from the AI because it was averaged from the memories of several students (including Hajime) who never noticed or mistook them for fidgeting — helped by the fact that her tics vanished whenever she was focusing on a game. It's convoluted but in a way that I think suits the source material lol.

Kokichi who is an expert at making tics look intentional, because he'd rather come off as "annoying on purpose" or even pretend to mock the disorder he secretly actually has than just admit there's a part of himself he can't control. And he certainly doesn’t need anyone outside DICE realizing the tics are a very honest indicator of his stress levels. He treats his own outbursts as cues to whine that he’s bored; he makes meaningful eye contact with Shuichi whenever he can’t stop blinking, because he knows it’ll make Shuichi lose his mind trying decode a Morse code message that doesn't exist; and in the killing game he pairs his motor tics with the straitjacket uniform and a cringy Joker impression to create some campy caricature of “crazy” that scares the people who are idiots (Kaito) and makes everyone else think he’s just doing an offensive bit — which, for better or worse, he kind of is.

[problematic-alter-culture-is]

TW: Harm mention (?)

Problematic alter culture is wanting to cause extreme harm to somebody

-❤️‍🔥

.

[psychology-department]

Hey can we like leave Fictionkin, Fictives or Irls of problematic media alone

It is not an excuse to harass fictives or irls or fictionkin from anything the creator is making or has made, they cannot control their source or media. Just because our media has problematic creator make doesn't make us a bad person. An author's actions towards others doesn't define who we are. Leave us the fuck alone. Stop sending us death threats. Stop forcing names onto us. Fuck the creator. We are our own people with our own lives and we are not defined by how they wrote our kintypes to be.

[foolondahill17]

So much of my gender identity is informed by how well I fit into gendered stereotypes. I know I'm not saying anything new or profound, here, but when I was skinny with long hair I was Woman but now that I'm fat with short hair I am what? If I put on a dress I am Woman again but if I'm in my tshirt and jeans I am what? What the fuck even is gender? How much of this is gender dysphoria verse body dysmorphia? I feel like a hunk of play-dough that can be squished into any shape I please but is mostly comfortable being Amorphous Blob.

[thisonesock]

Sad Headcanon.

I wonder how many times Lucifer wanted to take his own life, but then decided against it at the last second? And nobody would have noticed :'(

[icelordofwinter]

have you ever see a show/game/movie/book and you like it but you don’t want to get into the fandom cause you have very unpopular opinions that would basically rain hell and bite you on the ass?

….

that’s how I am with the tmnt fandom when I say I think leosagi is problematic now lemme explain on this

now just note I’m not in the tmnt fandom due to the problematic nature it has but I do like tmnt (my most favorite is the 2007 verison) but I am in the usagi yojimbo fandom and been trying to read the comics online and this is just my opinion cause I know I won’t change others minds I just like to express my opinions over the internet cause why not

but it basically frustrates me when I go to look up usagi content everyone is talking about shipping him with the turtles kinda gives me a ick

Especially since in the title teenage mutant ninja turtles there is teenage in the first sentence and the turtles always been told they were teenagers

and usagi is canonically said to be in his late 20s to early 30s now before you say “but 2003 usagi is a teenager” or something like now for 1 it does not say that anywhere I checked myself and it’s nowhere seen

And plus the main comics literally start as him being a adult and he acts like a adult in the adaptions I personally see 2003 usagi being a father figure or a older brother to Leo due to how they interact

now don’t think this is the only unpopular ship opinion I have I mean I shittalk about like shadowpeach in the past

so yeah basically

it’s hard to join fandoms without being attack for a opinion you have (it’s honestly personally why I don’t interact with fandoms most of the time people start to act like people in mental asylums some worse then others (COUGH COUGH GENSHIN IMPACT COUGH COUGH)

So what’s the lesson here?

don’t be a dick to people who have different opinions and if your scared to interact with the fandom due to opinions don’t if you like the franchise then be happy do what you do

[floortile34]

so like, can anyone who knows what fiction's considered problematic for what reasons tell me how the problematicness of agefluid characters works?

like, for example, 10-20 with both physical appearance and cognitive ability changing but not memories or experience?

what if they're in a split state? both 10 and 20 at once?

what about hiveminds that have characters of all aesthetic and cognitive and chronological ages? would sex with one be sex with all if they share the mind?

what about age regression where it's only mental without affecting the brain physically?

[uncanny-tranny]

That whole reply, like your musings, was a mess.

This is me sending you to the shadow realm

[inkfire-scribe]

Okay, so...

Storytime

(I promise I will definitely overuse this. XD)

Recently a community my spouse has been part of for several years almost literally imploded, led by the example of that community's leader. (For the sake of privacy, none of the names shared here are real.)

The leader, Dave, was a pretty nice guy. Established a community around a fandom he loved and saw decent success at content creation in that fandom. Even got sponsorships and could quit his day-job to become a full-time content creator. So far so good. But every 3-ish years, the mask would slip.

His wife Susan was also a part of the community, and while somewhat inconsistent in her contributions, was well-loved by all. Then she moved out. No warning, just packed her bags, and told Dave as she was walking out the door that she was moving out.

Over the last three days, the Whole Story has spilled, throwing the community into chaos, and dividing it into two camps:

Camp 1 says "Susan felt unsafe and had the right to leave when she didn't like how she was being treated."

and

Camp 2 says "It's not abuse! He never hit her."

🚩🚩🚩

Now, I definitely shouldn't need to spell this out, but fellas - the phrase "physical abuse" exists because there are in fact many kinds of abuse, and not all of it is physically violent.

"Abuse" is in fact a synonym for "maltreatment," which means "to treat (someone or something) badly, or to cause harm or injury."

If the defense of a pattern of behavior is "well, I never punched you in the face," that's not a defense. That's an admission. "Sure, what I did was bad but it wasn't as bad as it could have been."

This ^ is bullshit.

You do not have the need or the right to punish the people around you. If you feel punishment is necessary, please interrogate that - it usually means that you're attempting to control things over which you have no real authority.

The science has consistently shown that positive reinforcement (the addition of pleasant things to a person's situation as a reward for desirable actions) is significantly more effective than either negative or positive punishment (the removal of pleasant things or the addition of unpleasant things in response to undesirable actions). This is true in raising children, training animals, and leading communities.

PUNISHMENT is not only ineffective, but abusive.

"Punishment works!!!" We're drowning in three to four generations of people so pants-shittingly terrified of ever being wrong that half of everyone has constructed a worldview wherein they never even consider the possibility that they could be wrong and the other half behaves like one wrong move will make anything or anyone explode violently into a million irreperable pieces. I don't think it works guys

[tetric-electric]

🎵🎵IIIIIM JUST A GIIIIIIRL IN THE WOOOOORLD🎵🎵 (i cry myself to sleep at night, being a factive of vincent cochran, worrying i'm becoming just like him, and the only thing that helps with those feelings is denial and ignorance (this is why i blast taco's tirade when i'm depressed y'all))

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

OOF, introspection and retrospect...WHAT A THING.

My internalized homophobia in high school was so bad that I not only jokingly proposed - WITH A RING, THAT I BOUGHT - to one of my best friends, but I also had our 9th grade Honors English teacher (who had us both in his classes, but we were in different classes; I don't recall why, but I suspect that we were in different classes because I was in choir and she was in band) call us, during roll-call, "Lily/******* 'our surnames hyphenated'" because it just so happened to be that our surnames hyphenated/put together made an actual English word/phrase, and I just thought that coincidence was too hilarious to not bring attention to. (AND YES, OUR TEACHER DID THAT IN CLASS, IN FRONT OF ALL OF OUR CLASSMATES, IN BOTH OF OUR CLASSES. I ASKED. I...jesus christ. No wonder I was known as "the weird girl" in high school. Oh my god. Why did that never occur to me that those things might be connected. GOOD LORD.) AND I call that internalized homophobia because I did pretty much all of that because - considering, yes, that we were all HP fans - when JKR announced that Dumbl*dor* was gay this best friend of mine (homophobically) refused to believe/agree with that, so ever since then, I made a point to embarrass her over it, and our friend group played along. (Y'all should see the card my lesbian best friend gave to me for my 14th birthday when I had my whole friend group over for a birthday party/sleepover. The card she gave me was literally a piece of paper with a meme printed out on it of a cat looking horrified/shocked going "DUMBL*DOR* IS GAY???????" and yes, my best friend who we were making fun of through it was there. There's even a [not candid, though] photo of all of our reactions to it. Oh, and I will NOT BE SHARING THAT PHOTO. I was 14. And my birthday party was '80s themed. I WILL NOT!)

Now in hindsight (although to be fair, I was in high school when all of that happened, so of course I was immature), I know 100% that embarrassing someone for their homophobia/racism/sexism/bigotry is not the way to make them less homophobic/racist/sexist/bigoted. That's probably one of the worst ways possible to go about changing people's hearts and minds.

BUT, for the first time, something new about that situation has occurred to me that didn't before, and that is: while I knew one of our mutual best friends' thoughts/feelings about it (our lesbian best friend who had come out to us before I started all of that in high school...YES, I AM ASHAMED OF THIS KNOWLEDGE), we had other mutual friends who were bi who knew what I was doing and maybe sort of thought it was funny, but at the same time, I also realize...they probably did not think it was funny. And, in hindsight, I wonder exactly how they felt about it. I wonder if I made them feel worse, like I was making a complete and utter mockery of being queer (which, to be fair - I was. Because of internalized homophobia), and thus I was acting as though their queerness was something worthy enough to be mocked, too. Or...something. The point is that I don't know how they actually felt about it, and I wonder. I think I might ask one of them how she felt about it.

I also just realized that, considering the fact that my friend group (including my homophobic best friend...who I also literally referred to as "wifey" after I proposed to her. PLEASE let that be the reason I never marry. And I say that in self-recognized horror.) ostracized me at the end of sophomore year after I gave a very harshly/poorly worded critique of religion but particularly Christianity, perhaps the whole homophobia situation thing was related/contributed to that, although, as I said, at the time, my friends all generally played along with [the laughing-at-homophobia bit] and thought it was funny. And my town, if you could not tell, was known for being overtly Christian (but not, I would suggest, exactly in the charitable sense; more in the moral way of "If everyone knows I'm a Christian then no one will actually think I'm a racist, sexist, xenophobic, homophobic asshole - also because most of the town is") and homophobic. Although not all of my friends in that group were Christian, and most of them who considered themselves religious seemingly did because their parents were, so...I don't know. It could be a possible contribution, but it also could not be. It might've also been that they all just wanted an excuse to finally push me out because I was annoying (and, especially, annoyingly depressed, which they told me to my face. Or at least my homophobic friend told me that to my face, albeit in middle school. I did not get less depressed in high school, though. Depression always was, and often still is, my baseline temperament, but I do wish I hadn't clung to that group so fiercely as a way to...combat my depression, I guess? Because, honestly, with more hindsight/introspection, I don't think being friends with them was ever going to make me feel better, in terms of how depressed I was. They were, simply, the wrong people for me to seek comfort and reassurance in, and maybe I was the wrong person for them to seek comfort and reassurance in, too, because of my depression and how honestly selfish and clingy it made me. And now the joke's on them AND me because when I'm depressed I don't reach out to a god damn soul. LOL Not that I'm blaming them for that. That is entirely, 100%, completely a me problem, especially because I'm not friends with any of those people anymore).

[kenobers]

quid pro quo | jason todd x sionis!reader 18+

the official beginning of the jason todd x sionis!reader timeline you have an argument with your piss poor excuse of a father, only this time, it results in him draining your bank account. angry and freshly broke, you use the only logical coping mechanism; you fuck his rival's sexy son. tw: mndi 18+, problematic reader, daddy issues, oral sex, p in v sex w/ fem!reader, top!Jason, voyuerism (rooftop sex), brief daddy kink, jason is a little ooc but it's for the plot. reader doesn't know jason is red hood here. a/n: it's the prequel, baby !! quid pro quo | pride & periods | is this love? | tremble & shake | scorn to change my state

"Are you sober?"

"Am I what?"

You and Jason Todd were meant to be rivals. At least, you considered him a rival. He had never seemed to care. Granted, he was presumed dead for most of high school, taking any hope for legitimate academic competition with him. By the time he reappeared in Gotham, your father had already decided you weren't cut out to destroy anybody - although he hadn’t failed to remind you of what could’ve been the entire time Jason owned the Penguin’s hangout. 

You still hated the guy. His apparent death had killed all the worth your father saw in you. For him to have been alive this whole time was a major slap in the face. 

Secretly, you always thought your father wanted you to destroy Jason because he wished you were Jason. Was it really so fair that Bruce Wayne really had everything handed to him, including all the sons he could want. What was Roman Sionis stuck with? A squeamish daughter with no ambition, who couldn't even prove she was better than some adopted street kid.

Now you exist as more of a pet to him than anything else. Something for him to own, something he could keep leashed at his side, something he could brag about, as if he had any real pride for you. Which was why a single, sham threat to change your last name was enough to have your personal bank account closed.

Well, if you don't need daddy's name, you don't need his money either. It's just a lesson in responsibility.

Yeah, right. Like he wasn't going to find a way to keep you from making money of your own.

But, you could still prove your ownership over yourself. After several minutes of staring blankly at the wall when you realized your father hadn’t been bluffing, you dug to the bottom of your laundry to locate the cherry colored dress that got you into anywhere for free. You weren’t sure what it was you were aiming to accomplish, but the damn dress was going to ensure you didn’t need the Sionis money or name to get what you wanted. Your feet moved with a mind of their own right into your favorite bar, right into the perfect tall, dark and handsome ride. 

You hadn’t recognized him at first. You hadn’t seen him in person in God knows how long, not since you were 15, probably. There was nothing special about his jeans, Mickey Thompson t-shirt and leather jacket. He didn’t look like a prince with the lazy way he slouched against the counter at the far end of the bar. From the entrance, his face blended in with all the others, unremarkable and unimpressive. Until the slight tug of his upper lip suddenly had you back in freshman year English, pouting as the teacher praised your would-be rival’s take on Romeo & Juliet. 

Finally, a six-foot-something, Wayne branded plot began to formulate.

Of course, now you're rolling your eyes at him. You hate having to repeat yourself, even over the loud buzzing of the bar.

"I said, 'are you sober'. You look sober. Are you?"

Jason Todd blinks, like he still doesn't quite understand the question. He straightens his posture, jostling the untouched pint of something between his middle finger and thumb.

"I-yeah, I am. Are you?"

You cross your arms, roll your eyes again and ignore the question. Obviously, you're sober.

"Do you know who I am?"

He looks you over thoughtfully. His gaze conveniently lingers on the pop of your hip and the cleavage peeking out of your ruby neckline. Exactly where you want it. You snicker; so maybe he's a little slow, but at least he doesn't seem to be blind.

"You're Sionis' kid, aren't you? It's been a hot minute," Jason leans forward a little, magically more invested in the conversation. The ginger man standing next to him pauses his attempts to woo a brunette to raise an eyebrow at you.

"My dad hates you."

He scoffs, taking a half hearted sip of his beer.

"And bears shit in the woods, what else is new?"

You don't remember him having that stupid white streak in his too-well-tousled hair. It was sexy. You hated it.

"Fuck me."

IPA dribbles down his idiotically strong chin. His mouth goes a little slack as he blinks once again, harder and longer this time.

"What?"

Ugh, again with the repetition.

"Fuck me. Have sex with me," you reiterate as nonchalantly as if you're asking him to move over.

The redhead next to him starts cackling. Jason glowers at him, shoving the drink into his hand with one arm while pulling you closer with the other. It only takes him a gentle tug to pull your chest to broad chest. He leans down so his lips brush against your ear, his crooked nose nudging the side of your head.

"Hey, you sure you're sober?"

The warmth of his breath in contrast with his mouth, still cool from his glass, sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm dead sober."

"Okay, you see how I might doubt that given you just walked up to me and asked me to have sex with you."

You push him away and it's like pushing into a brick wall. A very muscular brick wall. "Look, Wayne-"

"Todd."

"Whatever. Even if I wanted to drink, I couldn't because my father drained my entire bank account."

Jason tilts his head, causing a lock of white hair to fall across his crooked nose. 

"And why'd he do that?"

You hum amiably, curling your pretty maroon nails around his thick forearm. 

"I'll tell you if you fuck me," you promise, batting your eyelashes as you place your other hand over his heart. Much to your frustration, his heartbeat is slow and steady. His sharp face has lost its earlier shock. He looks at ease, pleasantly entertained, with a slight smirk and a cocked slitted eyebrow. 

"I think that's called extortion, baby girl."

"It's only extortion if I'm threatening you," you snap back. You should know, your father's an expert in it. You take a small breath, smoothing out your tone again, "I'm just keeping my business to myself. So, I'd call this more of a quid pro quo."

"It's a quid pro quo if I'm getting something substantial out of it," he says this but at the same time, two large hands are sliding over your hips with a featherlight touch. His nails briefly press into your skin. 

Something in your belly tightens. Maybe he’s a more worthy opponent than you’d initially assumed. 

You tip your head up as you stand on your tiptoes and sneak your much smaller hands under his jacket, brushing up his warm sides. He sucks in a sharp breath. 

"If you really had no desire to fuck me, this conversation would've ended by now,” your voice is dripping in something venomously sweet. “And I'm not going to claim I have any idea of what's happening in your own business, but if I had to take a wild guess as to who in this room has the most to gain from fucking Roman Sionis' daughter, you'd be at the top of the list. Even if it's just for the bragging rights."

"You should know you’re worth more than just bragging rights, princess,” he says, rolling a fold of your dress between his fingers with a condescending shake of his head. You wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from underneath. 

"Prove it."

"...and you're sure you're sober?"

"Wanna test my breath?"

He snorts at your bad line, but his index and thumb are already caging your chin between them. He considers you for one more moment, then kisses you.

You can taste the single sip of beer, but it’s not as strong as the fading taste of a cigarette. His lips move against yours with intent, as if seeking out a falter in your sobriety. Their search comes up empty, leaving behind nothing but a thin string of spit and the overwhelming desire for more of him.

"What's your plan then? Risk it in a bathroom stall?"

You loath how utterly girlish the grin on your lips is.

"Nah, I know a spot upstairs."

***

"You're freaky, you know that?” Jason teases as you push open the roof access. 

"The cameras up here have a delay. My dad's people won't be able to snitch until tomorrow morning, so we have all the time in the world,” you smirk at the way his eyes bug out, tugging on the collar of his jacket with a sly wink. “Don’t worry. The cameras don’t pick up anything that happens on the ground. Plausible deniability.” 

He gestures to the roof set-up. The ledge comes up high enough to hide from peeping neighbors, but a string of yellow Christmas lights keeps the spot well illuminated.

"Yeah? And what about other prying eyes? You aren't worried Batman's gonna show up and scold us for public indecency?” 

The mental image is funnier than you let him think. You give him an amused little hum as you press yourself against his chest, walking two fingers up his ridiculously prominent bicep. 

"Hmm, technically this is private property and besides, this is Red Hood's territory."

"Red Hood? You really are freaky.” 

His lips are twinged ruby from being a human breathalyzer. A thin sheen of your lip gloss reflects the warm light surrounding you. Little scars decorate his hard face like freckles. You trace over a recent nick under his eye. 

"Please fuck me, Jason.” 

His arms are still at his side. His fingers twitch, either from anticipation or anxiety. 

"You're sure you want this?"

"Fucking positive. Do you?"

The green of his eyes are shadowed by his hooded eyes. His unflinching gaze is locked in on you. There’s a weight to it that seems to put pressures on all the right places. 

"Oh, fuck yeah, I do."

He doesn’t stop to think this time before he kisses you. It’s harder than earlier, his hands roaming your body. He had his moment to explore your cherry flavored mouth, now he’s taking what he wants. What you both want. 

There’s no shared breath between you as you suck on his bottom lip, ensuring your lip gloss is smeared everywhere. A large hand snakes its way up your spine to grip the back of your head. You gasp as fingernails dig into your scalp and Jason takes advantage of your parted lips to run his tongue over yours. 

You rack your nails over his stomach, catching the muscular grooves of his abdomen to make his shudder. You flatten your palm to sneak it downwards when he retaliates by grazing over your tailbone. You quiver under his touch, feeling that obnoxious smirk on his face. 

“Tell me,” he pants between wet smacks, “if”, smack, “if anything’s”, smack smack, “too much.” 

This gives you pause. What a chivalrous sentiment from a man who’s about to ram his cock into you on the dirty ground of a bar rooftop where Red Hood might see just to trifle with your father. Actually, you weren’t sure anyone had offered you that sentiment before. It has you rubbing your thighs together. 

Something unmistakable and hard pokes your belly as your hips meet. His tongue feels along the ridges of your lips before licking between them, once again filling your mouth with him. 

Cigarettes have never tasted so good. 

The arm around your waist slides to fill his free hand with your ass. You alarm yourself by letting out a muffled moan when he squeezes. He’s going to make a mess of you much quicker than anticipated. 

It’s just because the cameras are picking this part up, you think to yourself, I’m still in charge, Jason Todd isn’t going to get the best of-

Your thoughts are interrupted by the hand on your ass rounding your hip. Two fingers play with the hem of your short dress and pull the skirt up to reveal the skimpy thong underneath. Jason finally pries himself away from your mouth to get a good look, letting out a low whistle as he admires the coordinating colors. 

“You’re so organized, aren’t you?” He croons in a much gruffer voice than he’s been using. The rough pads of his fingers knead circles into your thigh, making you keen. “Daddy must really be stressin’ you out, baby girl. You’re so tight, need to unwind…” 

You let out a little breath as the hand on your head moves to cup your chin. Jason’s lips are satisfyingly swollen and a rash of scarlet has started to spread across his cheeks, although it’s nothing compared to the heat rising in yours. The fingers at your thigh skim inward, ghosting over the elastic of your underwear. 

“This alright?”

Later you’ll curse yourself for not saying something snarkier or dirtier, for not grabbing the outline of his cock and reminding him whose idea this was…but right now, there’s nothing in the world you want more than for this man to touch your pussy. 

You nod, “Please, Jason-”

“Please, what?”

Oh, this fucker with his little smug expression. 

“Please…Please touch me, Jason.” 

Although every time you say his name, his chest tightens up beneath your palms. 

He cups your sex, feeling along the thinning string keeping you covered. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s clinging to your lower lips. His index and middle fingers are cold against the thin fabric of your thong. It's a sharp juxtaposition from his hot breath on your lips, then your jaw, then your neck. 

Dagger-like canines whet the skin of your throat. The tip of his tongue drags a straight line down your jugular while the tips of his fingers trace circles over your flimsy underwear.

“So wet,” Jason lets out a pleased hum, snapping the string with a thawk to make you jolt. “And in these pathetic excuse for panties? I wouldn’t be surprised if you left something behind in the bar.” 

Your natural instinct is to retort, but you don’t have a chance to get a word in before he’s pushing the flimsy fabric aside and swiping his middle finger through your slit. 

“Daddy makes you mad and the first thing you do is parade yourself around with your fucking pussy out. You just went out looking for trouble, didn’t you.” 

“Nuh-ah-uh,” you protest weakly, gripping his shoulders for support. He’s massaging your lower lips with false mercy. “Wasn’t looking for anything until I-ah-until-ahh-til I saw you.”

His canine bites down as his thumb presses your clit like it’s a button. Two fingers slip inside you with an embarrassing amount of ease and you whine as they scissor you open. 

“You really know what you’re doing,” you huff, a half hearted attempt at a joke. He pauses, as if he’s surprised to hear you say that. His fingers freeze up inside you, then start to pump in and out carefully - cautiously even.

“Maybe that’s just what you needed, hmm,” he muses into your skin, planting another wave of kisses along your jawline. “Someone who knows what he’s doing to help you loosen up.” 

He’s straining painfully against you. It seems unfair to let him do all the work when he’s also begging to be fucked to shreds. You reach for his cock, only for his fingers to retract from your cunt and curl around your wrist. 

You whine, both at the sudden lack of him inside you and your foiled attempts to gain some control. Your knees nearly buckle as he removes his arms all together to shrug off his jacket. But he merely tuts, “None of that, princess. Why don’t you lay back down? I think the cameras got enough.” 

Well, fuck it. You told him to treat you like a trophy, no point in confusing the man now. 

He drapes his jacket on the ground before twining his arms around your waist and shoulders to lower you down on top of it. The inside is surprisingly soft against the exposed parts of your back. 

“You just gotta let me take care of you, baby,” Jason coos, gently grabbing your ankles to move your legs apart. He takes his sweet time dragging your panties off, letting each callous on his hands hit your smooth thighs. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna taste so fuckin’ sweet.” 

Taste?

“What’re you-”

“Shh, trust me,” he says, coming up to kiss you. He pushes your dress up to your waist, stopping to rub your hip affectionately. “You’re gonna be glad I did this. We can stop if you get uncomfortable.” 

He kisses either thigh as he dips his head between your legs, his black hair tickling your skin. You suck in a breath of anticipation, but he steals it when he places an open mouth kiss on your slit. 

You crane your head to look at him. Not a single other person has done this to you before. You were beginning to think it was just some sort of myth, but the way Jason licks from your hole to your clit with a blistering, flat tongue is suddenly very real - and very good. 

He blows a harsh breath on your clit before delving back into your cunt. He licks his way into you, filling you with a new strange, wet sensation. His tongue is hot on your already burning core and you think you might melt into a puddle. You bite your lip, but it’s not enough to stop the pathetic cries that come out of you as Jason Todd, your alleged nemesis who never paid you any mind, the son of the dull pain in your father’s ass, eats you out. 

The sound is obscene and loud, masking your soft pants. The wet noise echoes off the high walls of the ledge while Jason works your cunt with a stupid amount of precision. His mouth is sloppy, engulfing you whole. But, his tongue is tactical, taking its time to draw out a map of all the places that make you moan and squirm. 

“Oh God, oh God!” You cry out, your hands flying to grab a fistful of black and white hair as he laps at you. His arms hook around your knees to yank you closer. He’s unreal, unrelenting in his dining. When he switches to deliver kitten licks to your clit, two fingers take his tongue’s place in your hole. 

You buck upwards as his fingers curl inside you, easily stroking at that sweet spot just out of reach of your own fingers. His free arm pins your twitching hips down, and that’s when you officially relinquish all control to him. 

“Jason, ahhh” you groan, every muscle and nerve in your body quaking. “Jason, I’m gonna…please let me…”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He sucks down on your button, letting his teeth graze the nerves in just the right way to send that unforgiving twinge up to your belly until it whites out your vision. Your orgasm floods his face, but he keeps licking until it stops. Only then does he pull away, giving you a shit eating grin dripping in more than just lip gloss and beer.  

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl, asking so nicely. And so damn sensitive, it’s cute.”

Your heart races at being called a good girl. You should be spent already, but something about the fact that he made you cum in only ten minutes makes you want even more. 

He rises to his knees and you stare at him in awe as his body towers over you, blocking out anything but the hungry gleam of his eyes, the carnivorous bite of his lip, the mounting sweat of his skin. Anything but him. 

The lights glow gold behind him, crowing your own personal Apollo with his halo. His pupils are blown out, but his stare hasn’t lost its cool. You, on the other hand, are trembling beneath him, your pussy clenching at the sound of his zipper coming undone. 

Your eyes bug out to match the size of the cock he pulls from his jeans. It’s stiff as it fills his grasp, already leaking into his palm. He grins proudly at your awe. 

“See why I wanted to warm you up, pretty girl?”

The adrenaline of the moment gives you the strength to sit up and press your worshipful lips to the ruddy head, revealing in the way it twitches. The remnants of your lip gloss add to its shine. Jason mixes it with his spit as he spreads it across his veiny flesh.  

“You’re a God, Jason Todd.” 

He bends down to reward your praise with a kiss, a briny tang replacing the burn of tobacco. Your hands come up to caress his jaw before dropping to his shoulders, proactively digging into his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his to connect to his neck, repaying him for the bruises he decorated you with earlier. 

He hums in pleasure, tipping his head to give you better access. He smears your lipgloss residue onto his hand and lubes his cock with a Lime Crime Wet Cherry and spit cocktail. 

You’re so wrapped up in leaving a toothy imprint in the junction of his neck that you miss the hard switch in his expression. You yelp as he grips your thighs and hooks them over his hips, pinning you beneath him. Your torso flies back, but he reflexively catches your head before it can smack against the concrete. 

He continues to cradle you, steadying himself as he drags his tip along your slit excruciatingly slow. He tuts and taps your clit when you bite back a moan. 

“Don’t hold back now, beautiful,” he taunts, prodding your entrance with his blunt head. “What’s the matter, worried Red Hood might hear you?”

You try to grind against him and snarl when he pulls his cock away, “Don’t fucking tease me, jackass.” 

Jason slaps his cock against you, then rests it on your belly. He lets out an amused scoff, “Wasn’t I a God thirty seconds ago?”

“Forgot to mention I’m an atheist.” 

You cross your arms like you aren’t flat on your back with your legs up, but no poker face can hide the desperate squirm of your hips. 

The bastard shakes his head and the weight of him shifts over your gut, “You just can’t help being a brat, can you? And to think, you were being such a good girl f’me.” 

“Only because you were being nice-”

“I can be nice again, sweetheart,” his voice is low as he spits out the pet name. “But you gotta be patient.” 

“I wasn’t raised to be particularly- AH!” 

The head of his cock bullies its way past your labia and sits at the ready. You can already feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. It’s just the tip and it’s already bigger than anything you’ve ever had. 

“You ready?” He whispers. You nod with a strained whine, but it’s not enough for him. “Take a breath, I gotta hear your voice, pretty girl.”

“I-”

Your heart pounds so fast, it stops for the split second that those sharp greens irises soften. His thumb rubs a circle behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you suck in one last breath. “I’m ready.” 

“Just - hmm - Just tell me if you need me to stop.” 

Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in. When you first saw his size, you had expected it to sting. But instead of sharp pain, he fills you with an instant and, based on the snail’s pace he’s moving at, neverending pressure. 

“Oh, baby…Oh, that’s it, that’s it, nice and slow.” 

It’s so much. It’s so good. Every bump and groove makes itself known as he buries himself inch by inch, rubbing against you. 

"Fuck, you have a big cock," you groan, letting your head fall back on his jacket. He has the audacity to snort as he sinks the rest of himself into you, until his hips finally grate against yours.

The hand holding your head slips out from under you and pulls down the strap of your dress. Your already stiff nipple becomes absolutely statuesque when it meets the night air. 

"Yeah? Well, you got a big fuckin' attitude, asking a man you barely know to come fuck you on a rooftop. You do this a lot?"

The edge of a callous catches your nipple. 

"No! Just f'you!" You squeak with a jolt. 

The callous turns into an entire paw, squeezing your entire breast harshly. You push upwards into the base of his palm, brushing your nipple against the defined lines. 

"Just for me? Just had to have me?"

Jason leans in closer, so you can feel each hot strained exhale.

"Had to have you!"

There’s little more than a hair between your noses. That big strong hand finds its way to your throat. 

"No one else pisses off your daddy as much?"

You have no explanation for what slipped out of you next. 

In your entire sexual experience, you had refused to speak them. And more determined men than this one had tried to squeeze it out of you. 

But something about the hand on your throat and the breath on your lips had you shouting, 

"You're my daddy!” 

Something flashes in his eyes and for a moment, you’re worried you fucked up. He freezes up. His face falls blank and his mouth goes taut as he considers your words. The hand supporting his weight jerks next to your head while you pant anxiously. You get the sense that this is a first for him too. 

Then he lets out a breathless laugh. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right, baby. I'm your daddy.”

He pulls out of you without warning or sympathy. Your hips chase his blindly, your hole weeping for his cock to come back. He sits back on his knees and hauls your ass over his thighs, spreading you open on his wide lap. 

"You holding on tight, baby?”

You waste no time securing fistfuls of his shirt, the white logo distorting in your clutch. He lines himself up to your entrance again, brushing the sweat off your brow. 

"You tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

“Of course, daddy.” 

He grins, his sharp canines glinting. “Good girl.” 

He abandons his slow and steady routine to shove himself into you. He so graciously gives you a moment to re-welcome him with a little squeeze before he’s pounding into you, ramming in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. 

You make a valiant attempt to move with him. Really, you do. But the man is actively reducing you to a huffing and puffing ragdoll. The angle he has you at leaves you nowhere to go but the end of his cock. You want to say something, to egg him on, however all that tumbles out of your gaping mouth is a series of choked uhs and ahs. 

That is until he hits a spot you didn’t even know existed and you let out an honest to God scream. In your defense, the speed at which he fucks you is utterly inhuman. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was Superman taking his fill of you.

He slows, moving just enough to rub up against that sensitive point. He revels in the way your legs crush his sides, your trembling knees digging into his ribs. 

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it, baby,” he groans. He plunges in as deep as he can go, lifting your hips like you’re made of clouds. Something in you pinches and burns as you open up even more for him.  

He readjusts you with a grunt and sets a new brutal rhythm; fucking you fast and hard, then easing up when he strokes something that makes you shudder.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters, “Good girl…so good…so so fuckin’ good…”

Like clockwork, you gasp every time he slows down and drags his cock in or out of you. He lets you feel every minute detail, graciously allowing you to appreciate what he's giving you, before he's striking every sweet spot like lightning again.

“Come on, let Red Hood hear you.” 

White, red and gold flashes before your eyes. Your mouth falls open dumbly as you cry out for your former woud-be-rival. Although there was ecstasy exploding from your core to your belly, the best feeling was him gasping your name in turn. 

He pulls out of you just as he finishes, your name still falling from his swollen lips. With a heave of his chest, he rolls off of you and lands with a thump at your side. You pant together, waiting for the stars to pause their dancing. 

“Gonna tell me why your dad took your dough now?” He finally puffs out. 

“Fuck, I don’t even remember,” you laugh hoarsely. Jason snaps his head up to look at you. Dumbfounded is an adorable look on him. 

“So you lure me into making a sextape for you, then conveniently forget your end of the bargain?”

“It’s not my fault you fucked my brains out,” you shrug as you sit up. You take an agonizing moment to stretch so you can enjoy the glare on his face. “Why do you wanna know so badly anyway?”

He sits up next to you, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair, “I’m gonna need another deal if you want me to start revealing my secrets.” 

Jason Todd’s a quick thinker, you have to give him that. You consider him, consider the possibility of extending this hook-up into a full fledged thing. There has to be more to gain than lose. If you play your cards right, maybe you can beat your father to destroying the Wayne legacy. Or…maybe you can get your revenge by weaving yourself into it. Either way, you’ll ensure you come out on top. 

“Tell you what,” you say, standing up and trying to ignore the way your legs shake. “I’m free tomorrow night. Do that thing with your tongue again and it might jog my memory. I’ll do something with my tongue and see if that doesn’t inspire you to share.” 

He scoffs, “You’re a little business mongrel, y’know that?” You roll your eyes, but extend your hand out to help him up. He looks at your hand for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Then he accepts it, cautiously wrapping his large hand around your smaller one like he’s handling a snake. “No more rooftops,” he decides. “And no more up close cameras.” 

You nod, “Fair. But I’m not calling you daddy again either. That was a one time thing.” 

Jason laughs. It’s just a short bark, but it’s genuine. “No problem. It’s not really my thing either. I just appreciated its dramatics for tonight’s purposes.” 

The corners of your lips twitch upwards. 

“So…We have a deal?”

He gives your hand a firm shake, although it doesn’t betray the suspicion in those unnerving green eyes. 

“I think you said it best yourself, princess. I think we have a quid pro quo.” 

Something heavy settles in your chest like a weighted blanket as you shake his hand. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, it’s just that you sense Jason Todd is going to be around for a long time. And you’re going to get everything you can out of him. 

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(TW: Sex)

My dear lgbt+ kids,

A topic that has been requested a few times lately is sexual fantasies (in a Sex Ed basics, „things you may be confused about if you’re young and/or don’t really have anyone to ask about this stuff“ kind of context) - and I think a lot of those basics can really be summarized in one sentence:

Sexual fantasies are not always real.

That may actually just be the biggest thing to understand when it comes to sexual fantasies: they do not always represent reality. There’s not always a real desire or even any meaning behind them at all. And that’s okay. That’s normal!

Let’s go into some detail here:

In real life, it could lead to real bad situations if you pursued someone who is straight or married or twice your age… but your celebrity crush may be all of that, and that’s fine. There’s nothing morally wrong or gross or problematic or whatever about that. Because it just doesn’t translate to real life. Yes, celebrities are real human beings, but your brain knows you’ll never actually end up in their bed and so it’s free to mentally explore situations you wouldn’t go for in real life. That’s actually a very common and healthy way to explore your sexuality and learn about yourself! Don’t give yourself a moral panic attack trying to apply real life logic to crushes on celebrities.

Some of your fantasies may not even involve you. This is also famously something that features celebrities (or fictional characters): you may fantasize about them doing things with each other rather than with you. This is, again, a completely normal thing and a healthy way to explore your sexuality! You’re not hurting them. They’re grown-ass adults working in the entertainment industry, they have better things to worry about than you occasionally fantasizing about them smooching their coworkers. It’s not real and it doesn’t affect them.

Some people may feel like the last two points need an obligatory “as long as you don’t harass them over it” addendum… but that goes regardless of whether you have sexual fantasies about them or not. You shouldn’t stalk or harass or threaten celebrities you do not fantasize either. That isn’t something unique to only people who have sexual fantasies. And if we act like it is, if we conflate fantasies with real-life harassment, I don’t think that’s actually about protecting people in the entertainment industry.  Demonizing private thoughts isn’t helping anyone, it’s just feeding into sex-negativity.

Moving on from the topic of celebrity crushes now:

I’ll not name explicit acts here because I do not want to cause the misunderstanding that I’m labeling these specific things as “weird” just because I used them to illustrate my point, but: it’s also pretty common to fantasize about acts you would not really go for in real life. There may be things you find really, really hot in your head but if someone asked you to do them in real life, you’d probably be like “Eh, no thanks”. This isn’t unusual and it neither means you are a sick pervert in your head nor does it mean you are boring in real life. It’s often just as simple as, well, real life coming with things that you can easily exclude from fantasy. Maybe those acts (or locations or dynamics or whatever) would simply feel uncomfortable or awkward or even silly in real life or they come with potential risks you are not willing to take in real life etc. And that’s fine! You don’t need to want to actually live out all your fantasies.

If you ever hear about specific fantasies that other people have that feel really shocking and disturbing to you and kinda make you go “People do that?? But that doesn’t sound like it’s safe or healthy to do” please know that these may very well be things people are in fact not doing. Even those people who are “living out” that specific fantasy may not actually do it. That’s because some things are really just lived out by playing pretend. People just talk about it or they role-play it, and it’s really just a playful exercise of imagination people partake in together.  

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[angels-hideaway]

♥️🗡️Spoil of War🗡️♥️

Queen Ambessa x ex-queen!fem!reader.

tw: mentions of blood, warfare, reader is essentially kidnapped. Age-gap, humiliation (non-sexual) some touching.

a/n: I know this is slightly problematic, but I couldn’t help myself😭 A lot of you seemed interested, so I hope you enjoy the first chapter! And to my other followers, I PROMISE part twos of both Sevika stories are coming soon.

You stayed still. The cold touch of the blade against your neck kept you that way. It was over. It was all over. You hadn’t expected it to go this way, but you were warned. Advisors and allies telling you gruesome stories of other fallen nations who foolishly went to war with Noxus. You’d only been queen for a few months, and naively took them with a grain of salt.

Flanked by two Noxian warriors and with your wrists cuffed, you were escorted-more like hauled- out of your palace. You could feel the bile come up your throat at the sight of your people scattered around, bloodied and mangled.

Monsters. You thought. The guilt of not being better- preparing more, leading them better- made your whole body feel hot. You were lost in thought when you were shoved down onto your knees. You kept your head low to the ground, and didn’t dare raise it when a large shadow overlapped your own. “Your majesty…” The figure spoke with a cruel tinge in her voice. She looked down on you. She must think you’re a fool. Just like that, your pride returns to you. Defiantly, you raise your head, trying to look as proud as one could minutes from death. “What’s this? After such an easy defeat, I would have thought all your hubris would have left you.” Queen Ambessa Medarda. You had heard horror stories about this woman. When the message that she requested to have your nation willingly allow Noxus to expand into your land arrived, you scoffed, and replied with a firm no.

Now she had brought you down by force. Her massive hand raises your chin to look her in the eye. Any moment now, she’ll call for your death. You know it. Instead, a strange grin crosses her face.

“I’ll give you a choice, your majesty…” you follow her with her eyes as she steps away from you. “You could either die right here, at your young age, and waste that pretty face of yours…or…you could come back with me. I’ve been meaning to find a new concubine.”

“what?”

There’s no way she just offered such a degrading position to you. Die or become her plaything. You were about to shout a sassy response and take your death with some dignity, but one look at the sharp, blood stained spear made your stomach sink.

“What’s your choice? Little dove?” You lowered your head. A sick, angry feeling swells inside of you. You’d accept. You’d become her little plaything, but you had ulterior motives to say the least.

I’ll kill her

You’d kill her. Destroy her kingdom from the inside. It was a stupid plan, but it was all you had. Maybe poison her and burn Noxus to the ground.

“I…I accept your..merciful offer.”

She grins. Reaching down to run her hand over your face. “A shame that it takes more than a pretty face to lead, young one. Lucky for you, it does take a pretty face to please me.” She steps back, picking up her spear and cleaning the blood from it. “I look forward to seeing more of you.”

There were two meanings to that. You couldn’t help but feel flustered.

It had been only a couple hours since your capture. You were quickly bathed and Restrained by a pair of heavy, gold handcuffs attatched to a leash. Finally getting the opportunity to be alone, you sat down by the window in your new room. You were currently wearing a silk, white dress that cut out your hips, shoulders, and arms. The neckline was also immodestly low. Today, Queen Ambessa was going to appear in the public to announce the defeat of your nation. You were to be dragged around by her as an example to her enemies.

Her plan was to humiliate you into total submission. You knew it. You looked out the window at the crowd of Noxian citizens who have already gathered. They would all see you, a queen without a kingdom, dressed and being treated like a glorified sex slave.

You heard your name being called. It was time to go. Hesitantly, you made your way to the palace balcony

You were standing behind the balcony waiting to be shown off to the people when Ambessa steps out to begin her address. “Citizens of Noxus” Ambessa began. “It is with pleasure that I announce the defeat of the kingdom of Rosaria.” A loud applause floods your ears. You could almost cry. “With their fall, we have gained a surplus of land, trade routes, and many other spoils of war such as the beautiful Queen of Rosaria.”

Suddenly, you’re dragged out right by her side. You don’t even resist. The people jeer and laugh, but all you can hear is a terrible ringing in your ears. “A doll, isn’t she? This is the… Ex-queen of Rosaria, now my dedicated servant. Let it be known that anyone else who threatens the power of Noxus will be subjected to a similar fate, if not worse.”

The people cheer loudly. Noxian citizens are incredibly proud. It disgusts you. The idea of celebrating your queen dragging around a prisoner- no, a queen-like a dog is horrible. There are probably spies or messengers in the crowd that will run off and spread the word of your capture. Even if you fail to murder this terrible woman, surely someone will come for you…

right?

After Ambessa is done, she leads you inside and drags you away by your wrists. Hot tears of shame and anger suddenly fall, and all of your emotion swells into your chest. “You tyrant! Do you not realize how- how disgusting you are!? You disgust me! Your people disgust me, Noxus disgusts me!” You scream at her. She stops walking, but doesn’t turn around. “Another word, and you can kiss your life goodbye”.

She pulls your chain, making your body lurch forward. Steadying you with a hand to your shoulder, she leans in close. You try to step back, but she’s gripping the gold chain tightly. “You’re a beautiful girl. It outweighs your impertinence. Consider yourself lucky.”

-

That night, you’re escorted to Ambessa’s bedroom before she’s even in there. It’s huge. Bed is larger than the one in your own palace. Velvety, blood red sheets cover the bed, and a soft rug surrounds it. You sit on her bed and observe the new space…

There are deep scratches in the elaborate wooden headboard. Your mouth becomes dry at what they imply. The sound of the double doors opening makes you jump. Turning around quickly, you see that it’s Ambessa. Her hair is out of its royal style, and replaced by simple cornrows pulled back into a ponytail.

“Evening.”

Is all she says upon noticing your presence. She closes the doors behind her and makes her way over to the bed. She takes your chain in her hand, and removes your handcuffs. You feel relieved, but it’s quickly replaced with a chain around your ankle, attathed to her bed. You’re not going anywhere. Suddenly, she grabs your wrists and slowly pins you down. You try to resist, but her strength is almost unbelievable.

She’s looking at you like a starving wolf would look at a deer. Eyes full of hunger and lust. All you can do is meet her gaze, trying as hard as possible not to look scared. She brings one hand to caress your face. Both of your wrists are now being held by only one of her hands.

“Such a pretty face…” Her hand trails down to your throat, where she gives an experimental, gentle squeeze. Her hand continues lower to your breast, feeling you gently. “You’re soft. So completely unaffected by hardship…”

Your breath is caught in your throat. Ambessa leans down to place a kiss to your neck. Her knee is firmly wedged between your legs, making you squirm occasionally. You don’t want to like it, but it feels so good.

Suddenly, she pulls away. You feel a small twinge of disappointment. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, my dear. I’ll let you rest tonight.” She lies down and pulls you close, stroking the small of your back. You can’t deny the heat in your cheeks. She’s warm. you hate it. You hate how nice this feels. You close your eyes and try to focus on your original goal. Kill her. Gain her trust and murder her. Rosaria will get its justice, even if it’s gone. You can’t rest, or enjoy anyone else’s warmth until Queen Ambessa Medarda is dead.

-

The next day, you take some time to familiarize yourself with the Noxian palace. Ambessa is busy with meetings about the newly acquired land, so you’re left with the maids.

Ambessa has set rules for you. You’re not a complete slave after all it seems. You’re allowed to roam the palace grounds freely as long as you’re accompanied by a servant or a guard. You can’t go out in public without her, and the most important one to her, only she can use your leash. No one else is permitted.

As you try to relax in the garden under the gazebo, you can’t help but feel like the favorite toy of a child. No one else can play with you. The guard your with now is staring off into space, not speaking a word. The flowers are pretty at least.

There are many colors, but the majority of the flowers are deep red. It reminds you of blood. The blood of your people. After that, you went back inside.

-

It’s been one week since your capture. To your surprise, Ambessa hasn’t gone any farther than she had that night. You think that your depressive mood has been turning her off. Good. You weren’t about to let this go so easily for her. Maybe there is a hint of empathy somewhere deep within her after all.

You’re in bed, staring up at the ceiling when the door slams open, making you jolt. It’s Ambessa, but she looks furious. “Your majesty?” She doesn’t say a word back, instead pulling on your gold leash till you’re face to face with her. “Are you alri-” Her lips crash into yours, and you’re unable to pull away.

After you feel dazed and slightly light headed, she pulls back. “I…apologize, young one.” She stands back up, and you scramble to adjust your clothes. “Why? This is what you captured me for, isn’t it?” The words leave your lips before you can think twice. “It is, but I don’t want to force it on you…”

She leans forward, her hands wrapping around your thighs. “I do not wish to harm you, child. I’ve grown quite fond of you actually.” Her hands are warm. Your thighs feel tingly. Her deep brown eyes are solely trained on yours. Your breathing quickens Ambessa’s hand finds the back of your head, and she pulls you in for a much more tender kiss.

when she pulls away, her lips wrap around a spot high on your neck, and she begins to suck on it. You can’t help but let out a small whine. “There.” She rubs the new love bite with her thumb. “I’m quite tired, my dear. Let’s get to bed, shall we?”

end of chapter one

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