BLU3N

TEMPORARILY DISABLED .

[blu3n]

🪐. Yes, baby, come to mama.

[blu3n]

Oh my God, I'm in shock, he's really a father to a girl!!!!

I wish it were me 😭, but I'm so happy for my boy. ♥

[blu3n]

Are you Korean?? sry I just saw your pinterest lamguage was Korean and I barely meet anyone from here in this fandom

Thanks for asking, anonymous!

No baby, I'm Brazilian! But I speak three languages: Korean, English, and Portuguese. 😘

[blu3n]

@malachi2v

MY FAVORITE!!!! HER ART IS ON PINTEREST YAYYYY

[unicornconnor]

TimKon but avatar AU?...agh...it turned out very sloppy

[mala--draws]

13 songs i've been listening to lately! ᯓ‎𝄞 ˎˊ˗

tagged by @bluebdger (i so don't mind, thank u for the tag :D) so in no paticular order:

ae fond kiss - the corries

pomeranian - forager [live at ]

something heavy - jacob collier

heart of a river - rambu (indie musical!!!)

live at the jazz cafe - olivia dean *1

unknown/nth - harvard opportunes (hozier cover)

blackbird - harvard opportunes (beatles cover)

francesa - hozier

like real people do - hozier

cherry wine - hozier (i'm being honest okay lmao)

wild mountain thyme/will ye go, lassie go? *2

real house - adrianne lenker

sadness as a gift - adrianne lenker

*1 ok technincally not a song but an album but i can't listen fifty olivia dean songs. the set list was: echo; be my own boyfriend; baby come home; slowly; what am i gonna do on sundays; cross my mind; the hardest part; reason to stay

*2 i alternate covers, so: jacob hollier, dodie and laufey; sinners soundtrack; the corries and the petersons

no pressure tag (reblog or make ur own post :D): @ziggy8891 @shrubdrawsalot @scourgie @fishiechippies @leadbody (if uve done it and i havent seen soz 🙏)

[scourgie]

in no particular order, these are my faves of what I've been listening to the past week lolll:

Hau Ruck (song) - KMFDM

Bodysnatchers - Radiohead

Suffocate Me - Angelfish

How Soon Is Now? - Snake River Company

Discipline - Nine Inch Nails

Head Like A Hole - Nine Inch Nails

Spookshow Baby - Rob Zombie

Be My Druidess - Type O Negative

Bend Your Mind - Elysian Fields

Stitch In Time - Genitorturers

Bite My Hip - Bauhaus

Lilith/Eve - Machines Of Loving Grace

Rite Of Shiva - Machines Of Loving Grace

LOLL if I was asked this last week it would have been all hozier, miniature tigers, fleet foxes, arctic monkeys... I tried to keep it one song per artist/band but NIN and MOLG have been pretty prominent in my playlists whadofkh and KMFDM too but I didn't wanna just put a dozen and one KMFDM songs and be done with it...

no pressure tags: @countthelions @viskozni-varhanik @givem3thegun @zourdoh @sheepispink :]]]]

[sheepispink]

yay!!! Ty for the tag !!

I’ve been in my pop punk era for a whileeee now, so here are my fav listened this week (no order)

1) Keep the change, You filthy Animal (All time low)

2) Stella (all time low)

3) Semi charmed Life (Third Eye Blind)

4) The Middle (Jimmy Eat World)

5) The Anthem (Good charlotte)

6) Girls & Boys (Good Charlotte)

7) My Own Worst Enemy (Lit)

8) When You Were Young (The Killers)

9) Nod Krai theme (Genshin Impact/Hoyomix)

10) Out of Touch (Daryll Hall & John Oates)

11) Animal (Neon Trees)

12) Scotty Doesnt Know (Lustra)

13) Lying is the Most Fun a Girl can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off - Panic! at the Disco

love all these sm and atl is my fav band rn

no pressure tags @mxxnechos @pythonmoth @alexinarcadia @robin-i-promise

[mxxnechos]

hey hey hai !! thank you for tagging me twin muehheehhee

ermmmm this was hard, like really hard. choosing my top music? nightmare. all over the place. i can’t decide. i listen to too much music. i love music.

Anyway! Here’s some of my top songs recently, but i fear it’s sooooooooo all of the place hehe

Djo. Please don’t make me choose. I listen to absolutely all his songs all day and night. (My current repeat though are Purgatory Silverstar or Awake!) But I’ve genuinely been listening to his entire discography for the past like 2 weeks every single day for the whole day😭

Missing out by Maya Hawke!!

Chaos Angel by Maya Hawke hehe

Buttercup by Hippo Campus !!

Death Punch by Vundabar !!!!

Mothers by Grimm Grimm

Sanctuary by Tamino and Mitski

Persephone by Tamino

Nightmare Parade by FAKE TYPE.

Above the neck by SOFIA ISELLA

California Rain by James Marriott

Left for good (ALL THE SINGLES IN THAT EP) by Bad Omens (guys i love bad omens so bad i need them to release their new songs LIKE YESTERDAY GIVE EM TO ME NEOWWWWW)

Welcome to Horrorwood & Farewell II Flesh by Ice Nine Kills !! (both of them because i literally have a playlist dedicated to them two just just play on repeat)

i love djo. i love maya hawke. i love ice nine kills. i love sofia isella. i love vundabar. i love james marriott. I LOVE THEM ALL AARAGSHWVEJW i fear i need all their music injected in my veins like yesterday

ALSO I LOVE PANIC! AT THE DISCO IS ALSO MY TOP their anniversary deluxe release is bomb i love it

i adore music guys never try to understand my taste it’s all over the place (my spotify is linked in my pinned hehe)

no pressure tags!!! @froggibus @dovewhoreofbabylon @harbours-lighthouse @soulsforsales none of youse of course need to do this hehe 🫶 (and anyone who wants to join!!)

[soulsforsales]

thank you so much for tag my loveeee<333

okay… my top 13 songsss rn??? This is hard. Music is lifeeeeee but I’ll try…. I’ll js end up putting down my entire playlist anyway:

1. Anything by Adrianne Lenker

2. Forwards Beckon rebound by Adrianne Lenker

3. Vampire empire by big thief

4. Merry Christmas, please don’t call by the bleachers

5. Exit music for a film by radiohead

6. You can be mean by Indigo de souza

7. Let down by radiohead

8. Sleep talking by Indigo de souza

9. Washing machine heart by mitski

10. Bury me at make out creek by Mitski (I love literally every single song and album by Mitski)

11. My girlfriend by TV girl

12. Fake plastic trees by radiohead

13. I exist, I exist, I exist by flatsound

I LOVE LOVE LOVEEE RADIOHEAD AND MITSKI AND ADRIANNE LENKER AND TV GIRL AND GHAZALS BUT MITSKI OMG SHES EVERYTHING TO ME SO I JUST PUT MY FAV ALBUM AT 10*

music is the best thing ever and it’s the only thing keeping me going most days…. I lowk feel like this is performative music but then again I’m a performative queen hehehe

tysm for the tag again this was funnnn!!!!

taggin: @lush-escape @tragicgirl44 @harbours-lighthouse @blu3n (and anyone else who wants to join I would add more tags but I’m so sleepy rn sorryyyy love yall byeeei)

[blu3n]

Não ouvi muitas, mas geralmente escuto estas!

1 - saturn

2- oceano

3- pelo tempo que durar

4-te devo nada

5- the less iknow

6- you

7- velho camarada

8 no pole

9- borderline

[unicornconnor]

My sweet stinky guy

[blu3n]

Lindo

[ciricearts]

hi guys happy wednesday!!

[blu3n]

Eu estive aqui

[popipopipopipopipo000]

Prince of Gotham

This is a wip that idk if ill finish or fix, but i like how it looks now lol. You can see im experimenting with the colors wacky mode

[blu3n]

[ciricearts]

made these too <3

[blu3n]

I love him

[ciricearts]

old man jason as promised AAAA

[blu3n]

DAMNMMMMMMMMMN

[onlygreekhalfway]

Personal headcanons- Jason Todd

Jason has a very specific accent from growing up in crime alley

His favorite book is Frankenstein

Jason has lips so pink they make roses blush.

He smokes just to force himself not to get triggered by it (he died in an explosion)

Jason has a habit of running a hand through his hair whenever he’s annoyed. If he has a bad week, his hair ends up frizzy.

He has never been in a play, but is somehow a theatre kid

Jason with a slight stubble has the potential to kill people

He has the best penmanship out of everyone in the family, second only to Alfred and closely followed by Damian

Jason wears a silver cross under his shirt

Jason has all-caste tattoos on his autopsy scar

Jason's eyes turn deep green after dipping into the Lazarus

Jason and Dick both have dimples.

His incisors are sharper than the average person

Jason has a white tuft of hair falling over his temple, and it sometimes gets into his eyes

His comfort food is usually microwave ramen, since it's cheap and it takes him back to when he was on the street

He hates when people try to cook in his kitchen

Jason has a pet peeve about people who are very untidy

Notes- Hiii Surprise! Here I am, with another one within the same day. Well, I had this in drafts for a while, and you guys immidietly liked the one about Damian. It was more of a test drive to see if you liked headcanons and all, and you DID! Yay! Of course, I'll be adding to this one too as I think of more headcanons Not much to say, it's like 2 in the morning where I am. Thanks for giving me so much love, and as always thank you for reading. And Good night. With Love, Ophelia

[soulsforsales]

time to clean my room and shi

[blu3n]

ele ia me odiar KAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAMA

[antistellars]

a shear disaster

PAIRING: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend is acting suspicious and won't take off his helmet. AKA! Jason gets a bad haircut and tries to hide it from you.

WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, silliness, banter, insecure/awkward jason, suggestive sexual content, mentions of sexual acts, slight references to a size & mask kink, voice modulator

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

READ ON AO3

A sound at your front door pulls you from the blue-lit trance of doomscrolling. Over an hour's worth of content consumed, dissolving from your memory the moment you look away. Unimportant things, really. Digital junk food for a brain that's really just hungry for Jason.

And if your instincts are right—if those particular sounds mean what you think they mean—you're about to get exactly what you're craving.

"Jay?" you call out, abandoning your phone on the bed.

"It's me," he calls back, voice muffled and distant.

You're already moving, practically bounding down the hallway. Momentum and want in equal measure.

You find him in the living room, broad shoulders already shrugging off his jacket. He places it carefully on the couch's arm, and his gloves come off next. He turns at the sound of your footsteps drawing closer.

Butterflies. Every single time. You'd think by now you'd have built up an immunity, developed some kind of tolerance to the way Jason Todd makes your stomach flip just by existing in your sight. But no. Your body remains stubbornly, hopelessly reactive to him.

"Hey," you say, grin beaming brighter as you close the distance. Your eyes track over him, cataloguing, and linger on the familiar red helmet covering his face. "I thought you were taking it easy today?"

He shrugs, casual. "Unfortunate change of plans."

You hum in understanding, and then your body is moving—drawn into his orbit. Your arms wind around his torso and you press your face into the broad expanse of his chest, greedy for it. For the warmth of him. For the sound of his heart performing its acrobatic routine beneath your ear—one that would make even Dick proud.

It's a pattern you've memorized: the way it always spikes first, rabbiting against his ribs the moment you touch him. Doesn't matter if it's been ten minutes or ten hours. There's always that moment of recognition. Of want. And then it settles, slowing into something steady and sure.

A wild thing gentled. Coming in from the cold.

It always makes you feel better. Whether you've had a shitty day that needed a turnaround or a great day you wanted to stretch into forever. There's no greater comfort than being in Jason's arms, feeling the evidence of his love in the involuntary language of his pulse.

You pull back slightly, arms still locked around his waist, and look up at him. His arms loosen from around your shoulders, hands sliding down the length of your arms until they settle near your biceps.

You wait, patient, for your routine to unfold: Jason removing his hands to reach for his helmet, fingers working the mechanisms at the base, eagerly freeing his face so he can kiss you properly.

But it doesn't come.

You frown, narrowing your eyes at the blank expression of his mask. "What's going on?"

"What?" The helmet makes his voice flat, but you can still hear the studied innocence underneath. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

Your eyes narrow further. "Why won't you take your helmet off?"

Jason stiffens—imperceptibly, but you've memorized the topography of his body, learned to read the tiny faults and fissures. A brief moment of silence passes before he offers a small, unconvincing, "No reason."

The words pull your frown even deeper.

"What's wrong with you?" Your tone is judge and jury. "You're acting weird."

This time, Jason doesn't respond. Only begins rubbing gentle circles on your biceps, thumbs moving in hypnotic patterns. You blink at him, and discomfort curls in your stomach—a cold drip of worry sliding down your spine.

"Are you okay?" You pull back to fully look at him, searching the whites of his mask for something, anything. "Did something happen?"

He catches your hands before they slip from his torso entirely, fingers wrapping gently around your wrists. If you weren't starting to spiral, you'd take a moment to appreciate how his hands practically swallow yours whole. How good it looks. How much your size kink is currently preening like a well-fed cat.

But you are spiraling, and he still hasn't answered you.

Jason's gotten exponentially better at communication since the start of your relationship. The fact that he's deflecting now—that there's a chance he might be reverting to old habits—makes irritation build at the edges of your worry.

"No," he says, and his voice is softer now. A tone you know is reserved only for you. "Nothing happened, I promise."

"Oh thank god." Relief floods through you, chest collapsing with the exhale. The corners of your lips twitch upward in gratitude.

Your day is still perfectly, beautifully mundane. No vigilante concerns or life-or-death situations.

The euphoria fades quickly, though, as the vibrant red of his mask continues to taunt you. You're growing tired of not being able to see his face. You want to see his eyes and watch his pupils dilate when you step closer. Want to catch the tiny smile that always starts at the corner of his mouth before spreading. You want access.

"Okay, Jay, seriously—why the hell won't you take that thing off?"

"Maybe I'm feeling shy."

You roll your eyes, the gesture affectionate and annoyed in equal measure. "Too bad. I want to see your face. And as my extremely loving, devoted, doting boyfriend, you're contractually obligated to give me what I want—"

You reach upward, hands grabbing at the sides of the helmet, but Jason dodges your grasp and redirects them to rest on his chest. You scowl.

"Jason," you say, exasperation bleeding into your voice. You try to pull your hands back, pry them from his grasp, but he doesn't budge. His head tilts downward, and you know—beneath the whites of his mask—his eyes are darting across your face. Gauging how much time he has left. How thin your patience is wearing.

The answers are: not much, and very thin. The use of his full name, delivered in a tone usually reserved for scolding particularly unruly children, should be indicator enough.

"I want to keep it on," he murmurs, thumbs sweeping back and forth across your knuckles in soothing arcs.

"Why?" you probe, eyes returning to their suspicious narrow. But his touch is already working on you, the soothing motion of his fingers softening your edges, and the murmur of his voice has loosened the tightened muscles in your body.

Your boyfriend knows exactly how to work you. Being loved so thoroughly has never felt so damn inconvenient.

He tilts his head at you. One hand trails down the expanse of your arm in a slow, deliberate drag before lifting to cradle your face. His palm is warm against your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your breath catch.

"Because," he says, voice dropping an octave into something rougher, darker, "I'm thinking about what I could do to you while wearing it." His thumb traces the curve of your jaw. "The way you looked the last time. How you sounded when you begged me to—"

You draw a sharp inhale, cutting him off before he can finish that particular thought.

You won't lie and say the words don't have their intended effect. They absolutely do. Your stomach flutters, core clenching in immediate response. The image your mind begins to paint is sinfully divine, dredging up memories of each time Jason has been more than eager to fulfill your bedroom requests.

Most recently: the other night when he'd come back from patrol and caught the appreciative look in your eyes as you took in his suit. How he'd pushed you down onto the couch, still wearing his helmet, telling you how good you felt, how perfect you were for him, his voice raspy and made devastatingly deeper by the modulator.

His other hand moves to your waist now, fingers spanning your ribcage possessively. His thumb brushes the underside of your breast through your shirt—a touch just shy of indecent—and you're half certain your knees might give out with the way his voice is pooling liquid heat low in your belly.

He hums, low and pleased, the sound vibrating through the small space between your bodies.

"What do you say?" His head tilts toward the couch in suggestion, and his thumb moves up to tug gently at your bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it spring back. "Want to revisit some recent memories?"

Your breath is coming faster now, body practically vibrating with want, every nerve ending awake and paying attention.

But.

As tempting as it sounds to give in—and god, is it tempting—his words have something else attached to them. A slight edge of desperation. A tone you know too well, one you've worn smooth with familiarity.

He's desperate and deflecting. Whatever he's hiding, he's doing his absolute best to keep it concealed.

"Jason Peter Todd," you say slowly, gently removing yourself from his hold. Your body mourns the loss immediately—already missing his warmth, his touch—and Jason makes a wounded sound of protest as you step back and cross your arms. "Are you trying to distract me with the promise of great sex?"

A beat of silence. "Great, huh?"

Smug satisfaction bleeds through his words, and you bite back a smile at his playfulness. But you refuse to give in. "Answer the question."

"Depends." You can hear the shrug in his voice. "Is it working?"

You let your gaze travel over him, reassessing the situation with fresh eyes. Nothing seems wrong. Not seriously, at least. He's not tense in that specific way that means danger. His posture isn't defensive. He's just... hiding something. Something he thinks you'll react to.

"Jay," you say finally. "Tell me what you're hiding."

He shifts his weight from foot to foot. "You're going to laugh."

You let out a small scoff. "I'm not going to—"

"You're absolutely going to laugh."

You pause. Consider. "Okay, yeah. If you say so, then I'm probably going to laugh."

He makes a sound that's half-groan, half-sigh, and his shoulders slump in a way that's almost comically dejected. "Well now I definitely don't want to tell you."

You give him your best are-you-serious face, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open in disbelief. "So what? You're just gonna wear that helmet forever?"

"If I have to." His voice is flat. "Sure."

You sigh, dramatic and fond in equal measure. This is so very Jason—turning something small into something comedic, making a production out of vulnerability because it's easier than just being honest. It's infuriating and endearing and entirely him.

Your mind begins running through possibilities, each path taking you down a different conclusion.

"Is your helmet stuck and you're too prideful to admit it?"

He shakes his head.

"Did someone beat the shit out of you and now you're too embarrassed to show me the bruises?"

He recoils slightly, and you can practically hear the offense radiating through his posture. "What? No. Jesus."

"Oh, I know!" You grin, suddenly delighted by your own joke. "You've decided you hate me and you're hiding your face so I can't see the disgust in your eyes."

His shoulders deflate completely, and you bite back the urge to laugh at the successful result of your mockery. Jason looks around your apartment like he's searching for an escape route, and you take advantage of his distraction to run through more options in your mind, pieces rearranging themselves into new patterns.

Another idea dawns on you, bright and sudden. "Did you do something to yourself?"

His head snaps toward you. Progress.

"Did you get an earring?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"A nose stud? Ring?"

"No, and no."

"A tongue piercing?"

"Nope."

"Damn." Your shoulders drop in genuine disappointment. "That would've been so hot."

Jason chuckles—a low, rough sound that makes your toes curl. You file that idea away for later, for a time when you can properly make your case. Convince him of all the beautiful, creative opportunities a tongue ring might present. The things he could do with that mouth, augmented with surgical steel. The texture. The pressure. The—

He sighs, a sound of resignation that pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. His hands reach up to the back of his helmet, fingers finding the familiar mechanisms.

"I got a haircut," he finally reveals.

You blink at him, processing. "That's what all this fuss is about? A haircut?"

"It's not great."

You let out a breathy, fond laugh, already feeling relief wash over you. "Oh c'mon. I'm sure you're being dramatic."

In truth, you're excited now. A haircut. That's it. That's the big secret he's been guarding like classified information. Jason is probably just overthinking it—caught in that familiar spiral of post-haircut anxiety, hyper-aware of every different angle and changed line.

It'll probably make him look even more delicious than usual, and you're already prepared to show him exactly how little you care about whatever minor change he's worried about. You're ready to drag him to the bedroom and prove, thoroughly and enthusiastically, that he could shave his entire head and you'd still want to climb him like a tree.

"You're going to break up with me."

"I'm not going to break up with you over a haircut."

"You say that now."

"Jason Todd, if you don't take that helmet off in the next five seconds, I'm going to—"

The helmet comes free with a hiss of released pressure.

Your eyes widen at the sight before you.

Oh.

Oh no.

Jason ducks his head immediately, gaze sliding to the floor. His eyes flick toward you—awkward, sheepish, showing whites like a nervous dog. He sets his helmet carefully on top of his jacket, movements slow.

The haircut is... it's a disaster.

An absolute catastrophe.

Buzzed at the sides, that beautiful white streak hacked into something short and jagged and utterly mangled.

They've massacred your boy. Genuinely, truly massacred him.

Your mouth parts as you take him in, cycling through every stage of grief in rapid succession. A contemplative breath leaves your lips, and Jason's shoulders deflate further, caving in on themselves.

"It's really bad, isn't it?"

It's more than really bad. But you can't quite laugh in his face yet because he looks utterly, genuinely defeated. The idea of mocking him right now feels almost morally reprehensible. Like pantsing a kid on the monkey bars.

"No, no. Not at all." You're shaking your head, hands gesturing emphatically. "It's just different, that's all."

"Different." He repeats the word. "Is different good?"

"Different can be good. Sure. Absolutely."

"Okay, that clearly means I look awful."

"I didn't say that!"

But the longer you look at it, the worse it seems to get. An optical illusion working in reverse. You're trying so hard not to smile right now, cheek muscles straining against the inevitable. You know once that grin escapes—once you lose control of your face—the laughs will immediately follow, and you're trying, really trying, to be supportive right now.

Jason's brows furrow. "So you think I should get it cut like this again?"

"NO." You let out a slightly unhinged laugh before slapping a hand over your mouth. You clear your throat, trying to regain some composure. "I mean, no. Absolutely not. Don't do that. Never do that."

"Aha. It didn't turn out well. I knew it." Jason points an accusatory finger at you. "You liar."

You swat his hand down, but you're losing the battle with your smile now. It's escaping, breaking free despite your best efforts. "Okay, fine. Yes. It's awful. You look like someone I'd avoid making eye contact with at a gas station. Happy?"

"Oh come on." He recoils slightly, frowning, but there's mirth gleaming in those pretty eyes. "It can't be that bad."

At your silence, Jason deflates even further.

"Fuck. Is it really that bad?"

You grimace. Nod slowly. Apologetically.

Jason brings a hand to his head carefully, like his hair— or what's left of it— might turn sentient and bite him. He touches it with the solemnity of someone mourning at a funeral.

Which, to be fair, you're not entirely sure he isn't.

You certainly are. You're mourning those beautiful dark locks you could run your hands through, grab at when he's laying in your lap falling asleep while insisting he's wide awake. The hair you could grip between your fingers when he's settled between your thighs, head buried and working you over with that talented mouth—

"I just—" He stops. Takes a breath. Starts again. "I wanted to look nice. For you."

The words hit you square in the chest. Sweet and earnest and so utterly caring that you feel something crack open inside you.

You smile and reach up to hold his face in your hands. His eyes are uncertain as they meet yours.

You move his head gently, cataloguing the different angles of his new haircut. He falls pliant in your grasp immediately, hands finding their way to your waist, holding you, pulling you incrementally closer.

After careful consideration from every possible angle—and they're all bad, truly, there's not a single good angle to be found—you meet his gaze.

"What is it?" he asks quietly.

You hum, thoughtful. "I'm just thinking about the upside to this situation."

His brow furrows. "There's an upside to this?"

You let out an amused breath through your nose, and your smile grows wider as you take him in—this massive, dangerous man who's currently looking at you like a kicked puppy over a bad haircut. Your heart does something complicated in your chest. Something that feels too big for your ribcage.

"You know I really, truly love you," you say, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, "because even this atrocious, unattractive, utterly catastrophic monstrosity—"

"So many adjectives."

"—doesn't change a single thing about how I feel when I look at you."

His expression shifts, softens. Goes tender at the edges in a way that makes your chest ache. "Yeah?"

You nod, cheeks already hurting from the size of your smile. "Yeah."

He pulls you in and kisses you—tender at first, sweet.

Your hand slides into his hair on pure instinct, and you make a small, involuntary sound of dismay when you encounter the short, butchered strands where there used to be length. But then he deepens the kiss and coherent thought scatters like leaves in wind.

His tongue slides against yours and his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, closer, trying to eliminate whatever microscopic space still exists between your bodies.

When you pull back slightly—lips still brushing, breathing each other's air in that intimate way that never fails to make you dizzy—you murmur, "Never leave me out of a haircut consultation again. Ever."

"Okay. Promise." He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you're pressed together. "I'm sorry."

"You should be."

You lean in for another kiss, already losing yourself in the familiar taste of him, when an idea strikes you. Bright, sudden, and absolutely perfect. "You can make it up to me, though."

"Oh yeah?" Jason's voice drops, goes rough and interested. One hand starts to travel, skating up your ribcage with clear intent. "How?"

"I have a few ideas."

His other hand finds your ass—squeezing, kneading. Heat sparks through your system like a lit fuse, and suddenly you're keyed up, wound tight, practically trembling with anticipation.

"I'm listening," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull back to turn and grab his discarded helmet from the couch. When you face him again, you're running your fingers along the smooth red surface with obvious intent, and his gaze tracks the movement like a predator watching prey.

Understanding dawns in his eyes—pupils dilating, swallowing the color until only thin rings remain. The tug of his smirk is borderline sinful, and it makes your stomach flip in the best possible way.

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow. "Am I going to have to wear that every time we have sex until it grows out?"

You frown slightly, pulling him closer with your free hand hooked in his belt loop. "Oh don't be silly. I don't care about the haircut." You look up at him through your lashes, let your smile turn coy and promising. "I just really loved your distracting idea from earlier."

Jason takes the helmet from your hands slowly, turning it over once, considering. When he looks back at you, that sinful smirk has grown into something that sends a thrill through your bones.

"Then I guess we shouldn't let a good idea go to waste."

AUTHORS NOTE: gotham knights jason...im looking at you...but also i lowkey fuck with it ☝🏻

[blu3n]

STOP WRITING SEX FANFICS, FOR GOD'S SAKE I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!

ARE YOU IN CYCLE?!??

[jessebloom]

how it feels having to write what you want to read

[blu3n]

my next sticker, or probably icon

[aceofheartsssss]

BRO WHY ARE PEOPLE SO FUCKIN’ HYPERSEXUAL OVER Bucky Barnes?!?! You’ve turned him into a motherfucking sex object. (Imma rant, he means a lot to me.)

The way I’ve seen some of these people write him and talk about him is actually fucking insane!!!

No, he would NOT fuck your brains out like a madman, would NOT choke you, would NOT throw you around like a ragdoll, or hit you, or yank your hair, or be super rough, violent, aggressive, and feral. He was literally the fucking Winter Soldier. He has fucking trauma, he would NOT be violent towards his lover. It’s not in his nature.

We literally see him interact with women romantically and he’s so sweet and gentle the entire time. He’s the gentleman type of guy. We literally see that shit on screen, it’s canon. He’s a lover. A serious, traumatized touch-starved, yet sweet gentleman. I can see him being very loving, intense, and passionate as fuck but nothing more.

Some of you people have turned him into a daddy dom human sex doll or some shit, and that’s it. He has no depth, no in-character personality, just sex, dirty talk, sex, and more sex. That’s not what he is.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that still actually loves him and understands his complex character instead of just lusting.

[soulsforsales]

THIS THIS THIS!!!! AND ALSO WITH JASON TODD, BRUCE WAYNE, DICK GRAYSON, GOJO SATORU, NANAMI KENTO, SUGURU GETO, LEVI ACKERMAN AND LITERALLY ANY OVERSEXUALISED CHARACTER EVER!!!!!!!!

[blu3n]

Exactly, that's why when I write I try to see how he would think if he were in that situation. I hate sexualizing a character; everything on Tumblr is sex, especially Joel.

[aceofheartsssss]

BRO WHY ARE PEOPLE SO FUCKIN’ HYPERSEXUAL OVER Bucky Barnes?!?! You’ve turned him into a motherfucking sex object. (Imma rant, he means a lot to me.)

The way I’ve seen some of these people write him and talk about him is actually fucking insane!!!

No, he would NOT fuck your brains out like a madman, would NOT choke you, would NOT throw you around like a ragdoll, or hit you, or yank your hair, or be super rough, violent, aggressive, and feral. He was literally the fucking Winter Soldier. He has fucking trauma, he would NOT be violent towards his lover. It’s not in his nature.

We literally see him interact with women romantically and he’s so sweet and gentle the entire time. He’s the gentleman type of guy. We literally see that shit on screen, it’s canon. He’s a lover. A serious, traumatized touch-starved, yet sweet gentleman. I can see him being very loving, intense, and passionate as fuck but nothing more.

Some of you people have turned him into a daddy dom human sex doll or some shit, and that’s it. He has no depth, no in-character personality, just sex, dirty talk, sex, and more sex. That’s not what he is.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that still actually loves him and understands his complex character instead of just lusting.