❞waan raagsadee ii raadiya yarta raadiya❞
" i'm looking for a girl, please look for me"
☼ sunbathing 24/7... comic book obsessed.. yarn wielder.. Starfire's best friend<3... Disney movie lover♡.. multifandom.. anime fan.. East African...pinkpantheress is my queen.. curly hair< black writer♡♡..too much free on my hands..♫music lover♫. k-pop stan..♫ animal lover.. love hate math.. chem is my guy.. free 🇵🇸 .. free 🇸🇩.. free 🇨🇩.. free 🇾🇪
Socials ಹ༊·˚
LIKE WHAT?! ..❝NOT WANTED❞.. Perrywink's Tales ♬🦢
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd. Arkham Knight Jason Todd.
he looks down in shame. and ryomen sukuna is never ashamed of anything he’s done, and he’s done a lot of shit.
“that asshole was putting his hands on you” he huffs and looks at your chest instead of your eyes “so yes, again” you’ve never looked this visibly annoyed, and what was scaring him even more is how calm your voice was.
“look at me, not my tits ryomen” you narrow your eyes, he immediately looks up “yes ma’am” you grab his collar and the security turns a blind eye(he’s been getting on their nerves also)
“when I say no stupid shit, that means no-” you give him a hard slap “-jail, got it?” he just nods his face didn’t even budge, of course you don’t intend to harm your husband and you’re not abusive. sometimes with ryomen sukuna you literally need to smack some sense into him.
“yes ma’am” he nods again, “can you bail me now?” you roll your eyes “im not picking you up again, call choso” ryomens eyebrows knit together in annoyance “but i want you to pick me up” if anyone didn’t know any better, he’s whining for you to pick him up.
“no ryo” he tilts his head and subconsciously pouts then leans in “cmon woman, stop being a brat” his words have no bite, but when you smile he scowls.
you take a deep sigh and close your eyes, “last time” “i promise baby” he smirks.
you both know this definitely isn’t the first, nor the last.
ps. ok pinky promise this is the last drabble after this ima finish two more request than boxer choso is coming😭 taglist : : @in-aa @chewiebee @applelite @crybabylulu @yassifie-d @ai-no-tegami @silverwfern @oksukuna
synopsis: James Potter, a soldier of the royal guard, is assigned to protect the princess at all costs. His new duty proves far harder than he imagined, for the princess has a habit of doing exactly what she’s not supposed to, and hiding a secret no one must uncover.
tags: princess x bodyguard, forbidden love, royal fantasy world, violence, graphic scenes, smut, slow burn.
current word count: 149.8k
character introduction map playlist moodboard
chapters:
01 ✴︎ beginning of the end
02 ✴︎ a caged bird
03 ✴︎ of magic and secrets
04 ✴︎ flower of fate
05 ✴︎ breaking the cage
06 ✴︎ the parade
07 ✴︎ the last evening
08 ✴︎ there's escape in escaping
09 ✴︎ leap of faith
10 ✴︎ runaway
11 ✴︎ a free bird
12 ✴︎ into the unknown
13 ✴︎ astravel
14 ✴︎ high risk, high reward
15 ✴︎ the snuggly duckling
taglist: open (comment to be added)
series inspired by: tangled, eldia by yagamidiary on wattpad (omg she’s so talented, check her work), brave, and game of thrones
note: if you’d like, you can find this series on ao3 under the same username (colouredbyd)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
so zara larsson posted this and literally what if someone made any avatar character x reader but she’s basically zara (glitter, gems, etc) idk the top made me think of avatar
a/n :: i deadass might make a little part 2 for geto hehe
Satoru wasn't your typical nerd.
He didn't care about math or history, and he definitely didn't care about the syllabus for a single class that didn't involve a keyboard, a computer, or a snare drum. The guy barely scraped by in anything that wasn't music theory or coding, not because he wasn't smart — he was, annoyingly so — but because he refused to put in effort for anything that didn't already have his attention. His attention, once caught, was a spotlight. If it hadn't caught you yet, you didn't exist.
He spent his free time exactly three ways: behind his drum kit in Suguru's garage, buried in a Digimon rewatch he'd already seen four times, or three hours deep into a raid with a headset clamped over messy white hair, screaming at Nanami through the mic to actually heal him this time. His dorm room looked like a Best Buy had a baby with a comic shop — string lights, a wall of figures still in their boxes because "they lose value if you open them," and a corkboard covered in setlists for a band that had, generously, played six shows.
Satoru always knew that if he fell for someone, it would be a nerd. He just never pictured it looking like you.
You met him because of a spilled iced coffee and absolutely nothing more romantic than that.
It was the first week of the semester, campus still humid and overcrowded, and you'd been power-walking across the quad with a garment bag over one shoulder and a stack of sketchbooks under the other arm when a very tall, very loud boy backed directly into you without looking. Your coffee went down his band tee — some faded shirt with a logo you didn't recognize, letters half peeled off — and his drumsticks clattered onto the pavement.
"Oh my god," you'd said, mortified, already fishing napkins out of your bag like you kept a small pharmacy in there. Which, to be fair, you kind of did.
"Don't apologize," he said, grinning down at the stain like it was the best thing that happened to him all week. "This shirt was already ugly. You just gave it character."
You blinked at him. He was obnoxiously tall, silver hair falling messily over startling blue eyes, and there was a confidence radiating off him that didn't match the drumsticks or the Digimon keychain clipped to his backpack. He didn't carry himself like the guys you'd catalogued back home — the shy ones who blushed and stammered over a group project. He looked at you like he already knew the ending of this conversation and thought it was funny.
"I'm Satoru," he said, sticking out a hand like this was a business meeting and not a crime scene of oat milk. "Drummer. Certified genius. Currently drowning in caffeine that isn't mine."
"That's on you for walking backwards."
"I was doing a bit for my friend." He jerked his thumb toward a guy with a long black ponytail standing several feet away, watching the whole thing with the weary patience of someone who had clearly done cleanup duty for Satoru before. "Suguru doesn't think I can walk and talk at the same time. I was proving him wrong."
"You were proving him right."
That got a laugh out of him — a real one, loud and delighted, like you'd said something far funnier than you meant to. "Okay. I like you." He said it so easily, like liking people was a decision he made in real time and didn't think twice about. "What's your major?"
"Fashion design."
"Perfect." He picked his drumsticks up off the ground, twirling one between his fingers with the kind of muscle memory that only came from years of doing it. "You can redesign this shirt. Character and all."
You should've walked away right then. You had a class in eleven minutes and a stained blouse of your own to deal with. Instead you found yourself saying, "I don't do charity work," and watching his grin widen like you'd thrown down a gauntlet instead of an insult.
"We'll see about that, coffee girl."
You didn't expect to see him again. Campus was big, your circles didn't overlap, and you'd mentally filed him under loud, cute, forgettable the second you sat down in your first lecture. Except campus, as it turned out, was smaller than you thought, and Satoru Gojo was apparently everywhere.
He was in your general ed elective, three seats over, doodling little digital monsters in the margins of notes he wasn't taking. He was at the campus coffee shop your roommate dragged you to, holding court at a corner table with three other guys — the ponytail one, a stoic blond who looked like he paid taxes for fun, and someone with tattoos creeping up his forearms who kept flicking Satoru in the back of the head every time he got too loud. He was at the party your friend Utahime insisted you go to, standing on top of someone's coffee table doing an impression of a professor that had half the room in tears.
And every single time, he found you first.
"Coffee girl." He'd taken to calling you that instead of your actual name, which you found insufferable and, somewhere you weren't proud of, kind of charming. "Fate keeps throwing us together. I think the universe wants me to fix my fashion sense."
"The universe wants you to stop backing into people."
"Same thing, honestly."
It became a rhythm you didn't ask for and didn't stop, either — him dropping into the seat beside you before lecture with some ridiculous opener, you rolling your eyes and answering anyway. He asked about your sketches once, actually asked, leaning over your shoulder close enough that you could smell his cologne — something warm, a little spiced, nothing like the Axe body spray you'd assumed a guy like him wore.
"You drew that?" He was looking at a half-finished dress design, all sharp lines and asymmetric draping, like it was something out of a museum instead of the back page of your notebook.
"It's not done."
"It's sick. You're actually insane for this." He said it with none of the performative flirting from before — just plain, unguarded awe, like he'd forgotten to be cocky about it. "I can't draw a stick figure that doesn't look like it's having a medical emergency."
"I find that hard to believe. Aren't you obsessed with Digimon? Don't you have to draw those?"
"I collect them. Different skill set." He tapped the page. "This is actual art. What I do is scream into a headset until Nanami mutes me."
You found out, slowly and against your will, that he wasn't just loud confidence stacked on top of nothing. He knew music theory cold, could break down a chord progression on the spot, had strong and extremely specific opinions about which Digimon partner was objectively the best (Angemon, he'd argue this until sunrise) and an even stronger opinion about video game soundtracks being "criminally underrated as an art form, coffee girl, I will die on this hill." He talked with his whole body, hands flying, volume climbing, and then every so often — rare, unexpected — he'd get quiet. Almost shy. Usually right after he said something too honest.
Like the day he asked if you wanted to come watch his band practice.
"It's just Suguru's garage. It's not glamorous." He rubbed the back of his neck, and for a second the cockiness dropped clean off his face, replaced by something more nervous, more real. "You don't have to. I just — thought you might want to hear it. Since you've never actually heard us play anything."
You said yes before you'd fully decided to.
The garage smelled like reverb and stale energy drinks. Suguru — Suguru Geto, you learned, the guy with the ponytail — was tuning a guitar with the focus of a surgeon, occasionally throwing dry commentary at Satoru that made the whole room laugh. Shoko sat cross-legged on an amp, painting her nails an unbothered black, bass propped against her knee like an afterthought even though she was clearly the best musician in the room. Nanami — tax-paying-energy Nanami — adjusted his keyboard stand with military precision and gave you a polite nod that felt like the most normal interaction you'd had all week. And Sukuna, tattooed and terrifying in a way that made you instinctively step half a foot closer to Satoru, sat behind a second guitar looking like he was personally offended by the concept of being in a band.
"This is coffee girl," Satoru announced, flopping down behind his kit like he owned the room, which, in fairness, he kind of did. "She's here to witness greatness."
"She's here because you wouldn't shut up about her," Suguru said, not looking up from his guitar. "For two weeks."
"Slander."
"Documented slander," Shoko added without looking up from her nails. "He has a note in his phone."
Satoru's ears went pink. It was the single most satisfying thing you'd seen all semester.
"Play the song, Satoru," Sukuna said flatly, "before I lose the will to be here."
They played. And you understood, watching him, why he never took his classes seriously — because this, clearly, was where all of it went. He wasn't just loud behind the kit, he was precise, locked in with Shoko's bass in a way that looked like something they'd built over years, sticks a blur, head bobbing, completely unselfconscious in a way you hadn't seen from him anywhere else. There was no performance in it. No bit. Just him, fully present, grinning like an idiot between songs when he caught you watching.
After, while the others packed up, he sat down next to you on the busted garage couch, sweat-damp and buzzing with adrenaline, close enough that his knee brushed yours.
"So?" He tried for casual. Missed by a mile. "Verdict?"
"You're actually good."
"Actually good, or good-good?"
"Don't push it."
He laughed, and something in his face softened, the cocky mask slipping sideways just enough that you caught the boy underneath it — the one who kept a note in his phone, who got shy about the things he cared about most, who'd apparently been talking about you for two weeks before he worked up the nerve to invite you here.
"Hey," he said, quieter now, no audience left to perform for. "I know I'm — a lot. Loud. Whatever. I don't really do subtle."
"I noticed."
"I'm serious about this, though." He gestured vaguely between the two of you, and for once he wasn't smirking. "I don't want this to be a bit."
You should've had a witty comeback ready. You always did, with him — it was half the fun, the back-and-forth, the way he pushed and you pushed back just as hard. But something about the way he said it, stripped of all his usual bravado, made the words catch in your throat instead.
"It's not a bit," you said instead, quiet. "For me either."
The grin that broke across his face then was different from all the others — not performing, not for the room, not for a bit. Just for you.
"Good," he said. "Because I already told the guys you're my girlfriend. Retroactively. As of two weeks ago."
"Satoru."
"What? I was manifesting."
You shoved his shoulder, and he caught your wrist on the way, lacing his fingers through yours like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he'd been planning exactly this move since the coffee spilled down his shirt. Across the garage, Suguru caught the two of you and rolled his eyes so hard you were fairly sure it hurt.
"Finally," he muttered.
Nobody in that garage was surprised. Apparently you were the last one to figure it out — that the loudest, cockiest, most insufferable nerd on campus had quietly, embarrassingly, been falling for you since the first day you soaked his shirt in oat milk latte and told him he deserved it.
You figured it was fair. He'd been sneaking his way into your life for weeks without asking permission for that either.
Bruce Wayne as your arranged marriage husband means endless shopping budget but a man who disappears every night— only coming back to sleep.
Feeling the dip beside you on the bed, you rotate your head slightly to see his back filled with deep wounds. Some healed while some others are a raging red. You always notice but never ask how he always comes home at the dead of night, always with new gashes that constitutes his whole back.
Every time you ask, it's a look of shame that graces his face and one of sympathy that comes from the estranged butler, Alfred. There's a hint of secrecy between the two that you've always been curious since the wedding. They were always chatting silently with each other when you "weren't" paying attention.
It's the day that you go to call him downstairs that you discover the Batcave.
"Fucking bitch," you whisper underneath your breath.
the consistent journey that pretty much every Robin/batkid goes on, starting from ‘holy fuck i can be a vigilante!!! i love Batman!! this is magic!! i can do flips off tall buildings and kick people in the face and continue the greatest legacy on this planet!!’ to ‘Bruce i am so fucking tired.’ is genuinely so funny to me. i know Bruce is sick of not being listened to. he tells these goddamn kids over and over again that it’s not fun, it’s a curse, your sleep schedule will be fucked and you’ll never be relaxed again, please don’t get the wrong idea; and every damn time these kids are like :DDD CAPES AND ACROBATICS AND COOL DETECTIVE STUFF!! and then a week later they’re on a stakeout in the rain and it’s 2AM and they’ve been beaten up every night that week and the kid will go ‘B this fucking sucks why the fuck did you let us do this we’re literally just children-‘ and Bruce will go fucking geriatric.
it should have been a thing when Damian brought up the idea of quitting Robin and he pulled Bruce aside like ‘look please don’t get mad i know you won’t be happy about this, but i just don’t think this is what i want for the rest of my life, again please don’t get mad, i am my own person and it’s my life so i need you to respect my wishes here Father.’ that Bruce just stared at him really indignant for a while and then incredulously started yelling like what do you MEAN don’t get mad. i didn’t give you Robin?!?! i specifically DIDN’T give you Robin?! and then you went behind my back to get Dick to give it to you?!?! what??
like it’s the equivalent of having a toddler with you in a restaurant and you tell them Do Not Fucking Try The Wasabi. it is Spicy. and then kid eats a lump of wasabi out of spite and starts crying and now you’re the bad guy because the kid is suffering and somehow it’s your fault. 'you're supposed to take the wasabi away from them, Bruce' YOU TRY TAKING STUFF AWAY FROM THESE KIDS. SEE WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS.
this poor man has been under the thumb of his many children for so long and i just know he’s so tired of it all.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
lights, camera, action .ᐟ
── .✦ consider this your ticket stub to the captain americana film festival! this july, we’re rolling out the red carpet for one very beloved birthday boy with a collection of fics that ask one simple question: what if steve rogers got to star in some of hollywood's greatest films?
twenty-seven days, eight feature fics, and one leading man.... (oh! and you, of course). so grab your popcorn; the show's about to start!
the captain americana film festival runs july fourth through july thirty-first, and is strictly 18+, adults only entry! each fic will have it's own individual content warnings. full programme below!
⤷ starring spy!steve rogers x spy!f!reader⌇action romance
❝ You and Steve are voluntold you’re married for an undercover mission. Should be easy, except you hate each other. ❞
directed by @blowingbarnes ⧽ now showing .ᐟ
⤷ starring outlaws!stucky x f!reader⌇western romance
❝ As an outlaw, Steve Rogers has exactly two rules: keep moving, and don't go back. But for you he's broken the second one more times than he can count. He comes when he can, leaves before dawn, and you don't ask what he gets up to in between. Until one night it's not just Steve at your door, but his partner, Bucky Barnes, with your outlaw bleeding through his shirt and bounty hunters four days behind them. ❞
directed by @epiphanyrogers ⧽ showing july 11th .ᐟ
⤷ starring 40s!steve rogers x f!reader⌇romantic drama
❝ It's the summer before college and the uncertainty of war looms over your future. Yet Steve Rogers always remains certain about one thing: you. He’s stubborn and sweet and so sure he can love you hard enough to make the rest of the world wait. But time is cruel, and it pulls you away from him over and over until the only thing left is a notebook that tells the story of a love too stubborn to be forgotten. ❞
directed by @buckybsdoll ⧽ showing july 15th .ᐟ
⤷ starring steve rogers x f!reader⌇romcom
❝ When Steve is roped into talking about his love for an old flame on a late night radio talk show, among the many women who hear his story and fall in love with him is… you. ❞
directed by @singulartoast ⧽ showing july 16th .ᐟ
⤷ starring steve rogers x f!reader⌇romantic drama
❝ The rules are simple: stay on your side of the street. Until one night you meet a boy. As tensions rise between rival gangs, two lovers dare to ask a simple question. Can happy endings exist in a warzone? ❞
directed by @pinksplace ⧽ showing july 20th .ᐟ
⤷ starring steve rogers x f!reader⌇romcom
❝ You’re determined to help Wanda find the perfect boyfriend - but Steve? He is totally wrong for her and it’s not just because you want him for yourself. You, having feelings for Steve? Ugh, as if! ❞
directed by @lunexiax ⧽ showing july 24th .ᐟ
⤷ starring ceo!steve rogers x sex worker!f!reader⌇romcom
❝ Years after paying for your company on one of the loneliest nights of his life, Steve Rogers comes back with a very different request. Tired of endless questions about his love life, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend. It should be an easy arrangement. After all, neither of you is looking for anything real. ❞
directed by @love-stucky ⧽ showing july 27th .ᐟ
⤷ starring bodyguard!steve rogers x popstar!f!reader⌇ romantic thriller
❝ The first time Steve Rogers saves your life, you hate him for it. The second time, you kiss him. As a relentless stalker closes in and your world becomes smaller and smaller, the one person you can rely on is the bodyguard who’s sworn to keep his distance. But the closer the danger gets, the harder it becomes to ignore the growing attraction between protector and protected. ❞
directed by @pinksplace ⧽ showing july 31st .ᐟ
HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEVE ROGERS!
producer notes: what started as a half baked idea with @/love-stucky to do something to celebrate steve's birthday, somehow turned into an entire collab and the best excuse to read steve content all july! i have been so so so excited for this - selfishly perhaps, because i cannot wait to read all these fics, but mostly because of the wonderful writers who said yes and helped make this collab real. a huge thank you to every single one of you, ily guys. steve's best girls, assemble! <33
the stunning marquee sign and VHS spines for the notebook, mr and mrs rogers, west side story and the bodyguard were made by the insanely talented @/pinksplace, birthday steve edit by @/love-stucky, all other graphics by me. we do not give out permission for these to be used elsewhere!
summary: the crew (plus todo) is on summer vacay for two weeks (funded by gojo) and yujis wingmen (megumi and todo) have to help him score not oblivious you while you and nobara are trying to do the exact same thing!
content warning : suggestive, aged up, first smau bear with me here, use of y/n, protective nobara & megumi
i don’t own any of the pictures they’re all from pinterest!
masterlist next
a/n from the LAYLAAA ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵): #yujiinhisfeelings #insecureyuji #yujistartingsomethingoutofnothing I felt the need to make this messy. anyway sorry this took me so long the goat is busy watching empire and sons of anarchy
Summary: you draw on Jason’s bicep (yum) while he’s asleep
Warnings: noneeee. Actually wait. Uhh Jason sortta likes reader hitting him? Ermmm bicep biting mention cause they look soo yummy. Especially Jason’s. Okay yes you can read now.
Jason Todd is a literal work of art.
Jason Todd is a literal work of art. As in, Jason Todd is art. Art is Jason Todd. I mean, you get the point. This man is beautiful.
You come to this conclusion while he's asleep on the couch, entirely unaware that he's being studied with the concentration you always seem to lack when he tries to talk to you about (boring) books.
The rain taps softly against the windows, the television murmurs over dramatic dialogue somewhere in the background, and Jason remains completely oblivious to you, eyeing him like a hawk.
Your attention keeps returning to his arm.
You like a lot of things about Jason, but his biceps have always fascinated you. Yes, of course, there was the hotness of it. There were many times where you literally bit those fineass arms of his because of hotness aggression, if that was even a thing.
But there was more to it. There was a certain beauty, you felt they possessed, especially in moments like these. They carry so much evidence of him. Years of work are written into them as clearly as words on a page, but no one ever reads into them. They are the arms that carry every grocery bag in a single trip, the arms that reach for you automatically in crowded places, the arms that lift you onto kitchen counters so you can reach things instead of admitting you need help. Looking at them never makes you think about strength by itself. It makes you think about Jason. Because Jason is the strongest person you’ve ever met, not only physically, but emotionally. mentally.
A glittery pink pen rests beside him on the couch.
At first, the idea seems harmless. One tiny flower tucked near the edge of his bicep feels innocent enough, and the petals come together quickly beneath your hand. And you know what? A small bow beside it wouldn’t hurt, right? Then another flower appears because the bow looks lonely. Which is reasonable. More bows follow because the flowers need balance. By the time common sense finally catches up with you, pink flowers and ribbon bows are winding around most of Jason's arm in an arrangement that looks like it belongs on an extremely enthusiastic Valentine's Day card.
You love it.
The flowers fit the curve of his arm perfectly. The bows sit neatly between them. The glitter catches whenever the light shifts through the windows.
You love him
You are adding details to one of the ribbons when Jason wakes up.
The movement beneath your hand makes your stomach drop.
His eyes open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and for a brief moment he simply looks at you. Then his attention drifts toward the pen, follows your hand, and finally lands on the artwork covering his arm.
You prepare yourself for immediate complaints. Instead, Jason just stares.
His gaze moves over the flowers, then the bows, then back to the flowers again. The longer he looks, the more suspicious you become because this is not the reaction of a man who hates what he's seeing.
"You decorated me."
You press your lips together.
"It got away from me."
Jason continues examining the design with a lot of focus.
"There are bows."
"You noticed."
"There are multiple bows. I mean like a lot. A lot of bows. And flowers too. They look like the ones I got you last week.”
"You noticed those too."
His expression suggests he is being deeply victimized, but you know he doesn’t feel that way. I mean, the illusion is completely ruined when he forces a bland expression and continues to inspect his arm in different sections. You watch him trace one of the ribbons with his thumb. A smile immediately threatens to appear, but he catches it.
"Don't."
"You like them."
"I didn't say that."
"You don't have to."
The look he gives you is half annoyance and half resignation. Unfortunately for him, you've known him too long to miss the way his attention keeps drifting back to the drawings.
"You made all the ribbons different."
The observation slips out before he can stop it. Jason closes his eyes.
"Forget I said that."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"You are impossible."
"And you like my flowers."
Jason groans, but there's no real irritation behind it. There never is when he's losing an argument he secretly doesn't even want to win.
The conversation dissolves after that. You shift closer, seeking the familiar comfort of curling up beside him, and Jason immediately lifts the decorated arm away from where you're about to settle. You frown in annoyance and offence, and move to swat his arm, but his hand gently catches your wrist, stopping you.
You freeze. Jason loves when you hit him (playfully). Jason freezes as well, and then you realize. Your eyes drop to the flowers. Then to the bows. Then back to Jason.
"You don't want me to ruin them."
His expression becomes guarded.
"I don't want glitter all over my shirt."
"Liar."
"I am not lying."
"You protected the bows."
“Okay. Okay fine. Yeah don’t ruin them.”
The laughter bubbling up in your chest refuses to stay contained, and Jason's ears begin turning red as the full weight of his mistake settles in.
Before he can say something else, you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Jason catches you automatically, one hand settling at your waist while the other remains held slightly away from both of you in a transparently unsuccessful attempt to preserve the artwork.
Your lips meet his and Jason kisses you back immediately.
There is nothing hurried about it. Nothing overwhelming. Just the familiar warmth of being loved by someone who has long since stopped pretending he isn't soft with you. When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, and the small smile on his face is so fond and sweet it would give sugar cavities.
"You know," he murmurs, "these lil drawings aren’t terrible. Okay fine, they’re not perfectly drawn. But I Iove em. wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Cause I love you. And you made them. Which means I love them too.”
You grin.
Jason rolls his eyes, leans forward, and kisses you again before you can say I told you so, which is probably for the best because the flowers may survive the afternoon — judging by the way he had grown protective over them within like 3 minutes —but his patience certainly won't.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who completely loses all his bones the second the apartment door clicks shut. for a guy who spends his nights dodging gunfire and playing the tough guy, he turns into pure liquid muscle on your couch. he will collapse his entire upper body across your lap, burying his nose into your waist with a heavy, shuddering sigh that practically shakes his whole 220lb frame just to let the stress bleed out.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who is an absolute nightmare to literally everyone else in gotham, but turns into a complete marshmallow the second you’re in the room. he’ll spend his entire afternoon barkin’ orders, snapping at tim, throwing sarcastic insults at people, and scowling like he hates the entire world. but the moment you walk through the door? his whole posture softens, his jaw unclenches, and he’s pulling you onto his lap before he even finishes his sentence.
→ His family genuinely does not know how to react to seeing a guy who normally looks like he wants to punch a wall softly nuzzling his face into your hair and whispering sweet nothings like he wasn’t just screaming two minutes ago.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who treats you like you’re made of spun glass. he’s got massive, calloused, scarred hands, but the way he holds you is absurdly soft. he loves resting a heavy palm on the back of your neck or softly thumbing over your bottom lip while he’s distracted.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD… who is an absolute menace for press-and-hold kisses—soft, lingering presses into the crook of your elbow, your shoulder blades, and right behind your ear where he knows it makes you shiver.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who displays affection in the most quiet, domestic ways imaginable. he’ll spend hours sitting on the edge of the bed going on long, passionate rants about whatever classic literature he’s reading that week, his eyes lighting up while he explains every character arc to you.
→ he’ll also hand-craft custom leather bookmarks for you, carefully stamping your initials into them or burning little designs into the corner just so you have something special for your own books. he remembers every little detail about your routine—always making sure your favorite tea is stocked, pulling the covers over you when you fall asleep on the couch, and leaving tiny, messy love notes tucked into your jacket pockets before he goes out on patrol.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... whose dates are a seamless mix of domesticity and ridiculously thoughtful effort. he’s not taking you to some uptight, five-star restaurant where he has to wear a stiff suit and fake a smile; he’d much rather take you to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall diner at 2:00 AM, sitting in a vinyl booth and sharing a plate of fries while you both talk about nothing. or he’ll plan late-night rooftop dates with a heavy fleece blanket, hot coffee in thermos cups, and a quiet view of the city skyline, keeping his arm wrapped tight around your waist so the cold wind doesn't even touch you.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who is a total whiny submissive for you behind closed doors. all that red hood arrogance completely evaporates the second you tease him or make him wait. if you hold back or drag your fingers along his skin without touching him where he wants, he turns into the whiniest man on the planet. he’ll bury his face in your neck, whimpering softly, pulling on your waist, and begging you to just give in.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who melts the second you take control. you can pin his wrists above his head—even though he could easily overpower you—and he will just go completely pliable and soft into the mattress. his eyes get dark and glassy, his breath hitched, softly pleading with you, “please... tell me what you want me to do.” he is so embarrassingly praise-hungry that running a hand through his hair and whispering a soft “good boy” against his ear will literally send him over the edge, leaving him clingy and helpless for the rest of the night.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... takes loving you so seriously it’s almost stupid. he will send single-word replies to bruce and dick, but sends you three-paragraph rants about a book he’s reading or petty complaints about anyone other than you. he leaves his softest oversized hoodies at your place on purpose just to see you drowning in them while making coffee. he’s a man so deeply in love with you that he doesn't even know what to do with himself, and he’ll never let a second go by without making sure you know it.
A/n never falling for the “Jason is rough” propaganda. He is the most submissive, whiny, and pathetic man ever I said what I said.
