Liv.

21 biggest asexual agenda going since forever

[infamouslyclumsy]

This is your mayor speaking, coming at you from infamously clumsy land!🫶

Welcome!

this is a safe space to vent, to talk about completely anything, to just listen, or not even talk at all, just enjoy each other’s company <3

stay for as long as you’d like🫶

[mostlymarvelgirl]

I really miss those old avengers tower fics

1. Clint in the vents

2. Bruce and Tony in the lab... science bros

3. Cap being accused and called out by his team ... either it's the "language" or "I understood that reference"

4. Loki for some reason being imprisoned in the tower by Odin to learn humanity blah blah

5. Thor and his poptarts

6. Natasha and wanda being the bestie

7. Reader either dating Loki or Bucky

8. Fury calling out reader initially as a threat as they were an orphan who was a lineage of witches type of trope. OR reader is Tony's kid.

9. Bucky randomly becoming besties with Sam and them having their own fights.

10. Peter and Shuri becoming besties with reader

11. Maria, pepper, wanda, Natasha and reader having sleepovers.

12. Tony having a party every time after a mission. Everyone ends up trying to lift thor's hammer and reader turns out to be worthy.

13. Loki teaching reader how to use magic.

And the list goes on....

[lizziesangel]

Lwk want to write about this, how I miss those days

[svdaily]

i promise you your soulmate is not at your job

[elirium]

2026 Tiny Robin Update

[honeysucklewatr]

bulking season

short | smut | size difference | big ol’ beefy boy

jason todd bulks so easily.

he doesn’t even have to be super strict about it, like his body listens to him without much restriction. his muscles fill out and his stomach gets just a little pudgier.

you can tell when it makes him insecure, when his shirts that were already straining against his huge muscles start to barely fit over the extra pounds he gains. you try and convince him that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, that you know he’s just maintaining his physique. he tries to shrug it off, tell you that you’re being nice. still you kiss him extra, wrap your arms around him when you can and work around his diet with him so you can both eat together. he loved you for it.

but when he’s doing his meal prep on saturday morning, shirt nowhere to be found and his back muscles working in tandem with his huge biceps, you fight the urge to tackle him to the floor. you can smell the coffee he’s brewing you and normally that would wake you up entirely. though right now, all you want is to drag him back to bed. you stand there in the doorway, watching him move, admiring the layer of sexy pudge he put on for the winter months.

the way his thighs were bigger than ever and you gawked at them, imagining him over you. you knew he’d been hitting legs harder, training his glutes with hip thrusts and kickbacks that he upped the weights weekly. you were practically drooling at how his pants fit his perfect ass and tilting your head at it like something you wanted a bite out of.

without even turning, the heat of your intense gaze was enough to burn his back, he calls your name.

“you gonna stand there and stare all day babe?”

like a magnet, you pad over to him, drawn by his enormous stature. smaller arms wrapping around his huge frame like a ribbon around a gift. god, he was so hot.

warmer, bigger, and softer.

so when he fucked, it was way more intense.

as if every part of him had grown, he laid his weight just over you, not crushing but enough that you could feel the difference. his heavy palms pushing your legs over your shoulders, pressing down like he belonged there. his lips trailing over the shell of your ear, praising you for taking him like this. for letting him in so deep. grabbing at your thighs and just pushing them higher and higher. he always loved a mean mating press when he was bulking. and fuck, so did you, mewling when he buried himself to the hilt. scratching at his back when he folded you just right. crying out his name with every movement he made because it was just so damn good.

the first time, he looked at you wide eyed, pulled back a little just to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. repeatedly asking, “is that painful?” and “i’m so sorry sweets, we can stop.”

to which you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, his stomach slightly poking out and hugging your chest. looking up at him with tears in your eyes, but definitely not because you wanted him to stop, “no! it’s good, it’s really…really good,” biting your bottom lip.

he still looked at you sideways and decided to let you on top, thinking giving you a little more control might be nice. then you straddled him, holding onto his big beefy shoulders, and struggling to take him all inside without his help. you let out sharp involuntary whines. bouncing and squeezing him tightly within your slick walls. he cups your ass and keeps you still.

“baby, are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, ever the sweet man he was.

you nod again, leaning down in exhaustion and slight humiliation for being unable to handle him on your own.

breathing his name out softly, “it’s perfect, you’re perfect. i just need your help.”

he knows it too, nodding and helping you back onto the mattress. taking his time at first, slowly easing you into it. then when he finally gets you under him again and he realizes that you really couldn’t fit him all on your own, he smiles. he doesn’t just give you that same charming and cheeky smile, but he gives you one reminiscent of the devil that finally gets you to give in to temptation. when he finally sees how much you like him like this, he’s entirely feral.

“fucking love this don’t you?” he groans out, heavy and tender in his thrusts, “you’re so sexy, fuck, i’ll bulk all the time if you like it this much,”

lips attaching to your jaw, kissing and sucking harder than he usually does. one hand kneading your breasts like damn stress balls and you can’t help it, moaning out like a pornstar.

he laughs at your neediness, “feel good sweetheart? feels good when i’m riiight,” dragging his palm up your stomach and touching the spot he repeatedly hits over and over, “here.”

then he’ll manhandle you onto your stomach, pulling you up by your hips and have you arch just right for him. he used the opportunity to slip back inside with ease and drive himself back home. his groans are even more animalistic, panting harder and gripping tight in a way that you knew would leave bruises. but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care less if anything and all he wanted was to make you feel good, repeating what he notices you like.

when he pulls you up so your back is to his chest, you mewl his name and wrap his arm around your neck. he understands it immediately, keeping you in a headlock and fucking into you deeper. watching your face contort into blissful pleasure and moaning with you because all it did was drive him wilder.

it’s too much and not enough at the same time. you have nothing to say, no words to express how he was making you feel. all you could do was claw at his forearms and push back into him, chanting his name like prayer, over and over.

he hisses dirty words just by your ear, leaving open mouthed kisses along the side of your face, “gonna fuck you so dumb, you know that? imma ruin you pretty baby.”

god, you loved bulking season.

masterlist | wanna be tagged?

[honeysucklewatr]

18+ | dick grayson who fucks like a pornstar

he’s stupidly attractive and he knows it. that’s the worst part. he knows he fucking hot and he uses it to his advantage.

while you’re under him, he takes your hand, runs it down his bare body and watches you bite your lip. he lets you trace your fingers between his abs, circling them around the muscle while he chuckles lowly. still pushing back into you with his other hand heavy on your hip, kneading the plush that sat there.

when you start to move your hand on your own, he knows you’re too coherent. that he wants to get you hotter than you already were. he fucks a little rougher, pulling you back into his every thrust just to watch your breath hitch and your hand fall. dick taunts you by your ear as he leans over. his voice making you heady with how whiny and possessive he got. how much power he had in his movements that you could never really deny him when he made you feel like this.

“such a dirty girl,” sighing the words as his hands trail to your stomach. “letting me fuck you like this, shit—”

his hand meets with the bulge he made inside you. touching the depths and leaving it bare just to kiss your cervix again. it’s like he knows where to hit and how to hit it. exactly how to make you bend and squirm but also how to keep you pliant as he does it.

grayson is the type of enjoy how broken up you get at his movements too, purposefully prolonging the sensations that he’s memorized how you react. he wants to bring you to the absolute edge and then suddenly take it away because he likes how it ruins you. he loses it at how you whine and scratch at him. the sounds you make is what makes him continue until you finally cry and beg him to let you come. tears staining your cheeks at the overstimulation. that’s when he shushes you quietly and brushes your hair from your face to tell you he’ll give it to you. that he will stop being a tease and that he’s sorry.

though he says it like he’s not sorry at all.

when he kisses you it’s like all resemblance of yourself goes out the window. sometimes he uses it like a way you keep you quieter while he fucks you in his old bedroom at the manor. he whispers by your ear, you don’t wanna get caught, do you?

his hands spanning up your sides to hold you there and keep you right where he wants you. he knows exactly what he’s doing. although most of the time, he kisses you so he can feel how your breath shakes. lips locked on yours while he moves just a little faster right as you try to say something. you’ll open your mouth to speak, maybe pull back to breathe deeper when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. reaching as deep as he can while your lips part against his mouth and he laughs.

his stamina is absolutely insane. skilled and athletic like he was trained for this kind of thing. and fuck, he has the body to prove it. he doesn’t cum until you have enough times that you lose count. when you’re quite literally shaking and fucked out, that’s when he chases his own high. but that doesn’t mean he won’t paint you white when you beg for it. in fact, he’ll fuck you so full that it could gush out onto the sheets, making a wet spot from your mixed arousal. he loves how you look when he pushes on your stomach and lets it flood around him all over again. it’s like a ritual after patrol when he’s needy.

you’re hardly even surprised when he pulls you onto his lap and asks you to ride him but guides your hips the whole time. he praises you even when he’s doing the work. leaning up to kiss your chest and mumble about how good you’re doing. how he knows you’re tired but he loves you so much.

he’s equally sensual when you collapse onto his chest after the nth time. maneuvering you to your back to clean you up with his relentless tongue. too tired to do anything but mumble and melt into the mattress. then he’ll hold you to his chest while he puts something on the television and laughs at their jokes like he’s not even exhausted from what he’d just done to you.

you know he’ll ask to go again later.

sorry if it’s shit, i didnt proofread :p

[angelpediaa]

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 ✷ established relationship. domestic arguments. fluff & angst. financially reckless behavior. independent!reader. morally gray income sources. soft!red hood. bickering. slightly clingy jason. implied violence. criminal interrogation. protective behavior. unhealthy coping mechanisms disguised as acts of service. rich boyfriend problems.

Dating an independent woman, Jason had learned, was an exercise in chronic frustration. Not the exhausting kind—the kind that settled warm beneath his ribs, irritating and addictive in equal measure. The kind that made him want to grind his teeth one second and kiss her stupid the next. Because loving y/n was easy. Christ, it was the easiest thing he’d ever done. Existing around her, however, was another story entirely.

She refused help with the same ferocity Jason usually reserved for gunfights and emotional repression.

And that was saying something.

Jason liked taking care of people. It was buried somewhere deep beneath the violence, the sarcasm, the helmet, the terrifying reputation, and the lifetime’s worth of anger issues, but it was there. Raw and instinctive. He liked memorizing what people needed before they asked for it. He liked patching wounds, carrying heavy things, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, checking locks twice before bed. Maybe it came from a childhood where nobody took care of him properly. Maybe it came from being Robin once upon a time, before the world had split him open and rebuilt him meaner. Whatever the reason, taking care of someone he loved felt as natural to him as breathing.

Unfortunately for him, y/n would rather throw herself into oncoming traffic than accept assistance gracefully.

Which was deeply inconvenient considering Jason Todd had money now. Not respectable money, obviously. Not “stocks and mutual funds” money like Bruce. Jason’s finances existed in a morally gray area populated by terrified drug lords, black-market deals, confiscated cash, and the occasional envelope Bruce shoved into his hands disguised as “mission funding” when they both knew it was guilt money.

Jason accepted all of it without shame.

And when he got a girlfriend? Jesus Christ.

He immediately developed the overwhelming urge to spend every cent on her.

Not in an obnoxious way. Not because he thought she couldn’t survive on her own. If anything, y/n surviving independently despite Gotham actively trying to eat people alive was one of the things he admired most about her. She worked herself ragged, paid her own bills, handled her own problems, and carried herself with this stubborn, infuriating pride that made Jason want to simultaneously shake her and marry her.

But he loved her. Of course he wanted to make her life easier.

Apparently that made him public enemy number one.

Every single attempt at paying for something turned into a war of attrition.

Coffee dates were the worst. Jason would buy their drinks with the smug satisfaction of a man fulfilling his divine purpose as a boyfriend, only for his phone to buzz ten minutes later.

Y/N SENT YOU $10.00

Jason would stare at the notification with pure resentment.

Once, after their fourth argument about it that month, he’d deliberately paid for dinner while she was in the bathroom, thinking he’d finally outsmarted her.

The next morning she’d transferred him exact reimbursement down to the tax.

Psychotic behavior.

Another time, he’d tried being direct about it.

“You know normal girlfriends let their boyfriends spoil them,” he muttered while leaning against her kitchen counter.

Y/n, sitting cross-legged on the counter eating a banana with the confidence of a woman impossible to embarrass, looked unimpressed. “Normal boyfriends don’t source their income like Batman’s most wanted.”

“That’s hurtful.”

“That’s accurate.”

Jason narrowed his eyes before pulling a thick stack of cash from his jacket pocket and tossing it onto the counter beside her. “Take it.”

She glanced at the money, then at him, then back at the money. “I don’t want your guilt money from your daddy.”

“It’s not guilt money,” Jason corrected immediately. “It’s drug money.”

Y/n stared at him slowly, banana halfway to her mouth, looking genuinely uncertain whether she should kiss him or book him a therapist.

Jason had shrugged like that clarified everything.

Because to him, honestly, it did.

Then there were the bills.

God, the bills argument nearly killed him.

It had been late evening, rain tapping softly against the apartment windows while Gotham drowned itself in neon and smog outside. Y/n’s apartment wasn’t terrible, but it was small in that distinctly Gotham way—thin walls, unreliable heating, pipes that screamed like dying animals whenever someone showered. Jason practically lived there anyway despite technically owning a much nicer place. Mostly because he preferred her cluttered little apartment over any penthouse money could buy.

She was sprawled on top of him on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies and soft sleep shorts, her cheek pressed into his neck while he worked on his laptop balanced precariously against her lower back. One of his arms rested around her waist automatically, hand underneath the hoodie, fingertips tracing absent patterns against her skin while he typed with the other hand.

“Ugh,” she groaned suddenly into his throat. “My landlord is up my ass about rent.”

Jason’s fingers paused over the keyboard instantly.

“How much?”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“You were gonna offer money.”

“I was gonna offer money.”

She made a triumphant sound against his skin. “Exactly. Denied.”

Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance, shifting slightly beneath her. “Baby, I basically live here anyway. Let me help with bills.”

“No.”

“You’re working doubles.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You shouldn’t have to survive,” he muttered.

That made her lift her head slightly. Her expression softened around the edges when she looked at him, because no matter how much they argued about this, she knew where it came from. Jason wasn’t controlling. Wasn’t condescending. He wasn’t trying to own her.

He just loved hard. Recklessly. Like a man who never learned moderation.

“I wanna do things myself,” she said quietly. “I need to prove I can.”

Jason looked at her for a long moment.

Most people saw anger first when they looked at him. Violence. Volatility. But underneath all of that, Jason understood pride better than almost anyone. Understood what it meant to claw your own survival out of the dirt with bloody hands. Understood how humiliating dependence could feel.

So instead of arguing, he just sighed softly through his nose and kissed the top of her head.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Okay.”

Which should’ve worried her.

Because when Jason Todd stopped arguing, it usually meant he’d already decided to do something significantly worse.

The next afternoon, while Jason was in the middle of interrogating a weapons trafficker, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He glanced at the caller ID and immediately smiled beneath the Red Hood helmet.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“You paid my fucking rent?”

Jason leaned casually against the damp brick wall beside him while the criminal tied to the chair whimpered quietly in the background.

“For the next six months, yeah.” He checked his gun lazily. “Oh, and your car’s in the shop. Your brakes sounded like a dying walrus. Figured I’d get them replaced.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then came one long inhale that positively radiated fury.

Jason grinned harder.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Yeah?”

“You are insane.”

“You still love me though.”

“I’m considering arson.”

“That’s my girl.”

The line went dead with an aggressive beep.

Jason stood there for another second staring at the phone in his hand, helpless affection spreading warm through his chest before he could stop it. The kind that made him feel seventeen again. Human again. Soft in places he usually kept armored shut.

If anyone ever saw the look on his face right now, Jason would actually have to kill them.

With a sigh, he slid the phone back into his jacket and finally turned toward the terrified criminal still zip-tied to the chair in the abandoned warehouse.

“You know,” he muttered while pulling another zip tie tighter around the guy’s wrists, “I buy one woman six months’ rent and suddenly I’m the bad guy.”

The guy had apparently developed a death wish.

“F-females,” he laughed nervously, sweat dripping down his temple. “Am I right?”

Jason’s smile vanished instantly.

Gone was the lovesick idiot paying for brake repairs. This was the man criminals whispered about in panic.

Jason grabbed the chair sharply, yanking it forward until the man nearly choked on his own breath.

“That,” Jason said quietly, “is my girl you’re talking about.”

The criminal went pale.

“And trust me,” Jason continued, voice calm in the way that scared people most, “you do not wanna disrespect the woman willing to date me voluntarily.”

“R-right. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

Jason stared at him another second before sighing heavily and releasing the chair.

©𝓐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒂. do not copy, translate, or repost my work on any other sites without my permission. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

[bookishjules]

saw this take yesterday that used the words timid, mousy, and little to describe tessa (tessa!) and not a single one of the comments seemed to be disputing this description... what have we come to fr

[feral-ballad]

Mahmoud Darwish, tr. by A.M. El Messeri, from The Palestinian Wedding: A Bilingual Anthology of Contemporary Palestinian Resistance Poetry; "A Lover from Palestine"

[Text ID: “Shelter me in the warmth of your gaze.”]

[junkiepunkie]

Supernatural fandom is crazy because I have this interaction minimum once a month;

Me: I love that Castiel is canonically queer and that Misha Collins talks about it.

Swarm of people: Dean isn’t gay!!!

Me: ….I wasn’t talking about Dean-

The Swarm: Jensen said Dean only loves Cas as a brother.

Me: Still not talking about Dean, I didn’t even mention desti-

The Swarm: Destiel isn’t canon!!!!

Me: WHEN THE FUCK DID I SAY IT WAS?!?!

[highkey-deanwinchester]

Holy shit cas is actually gay? YAAAAAAYUH PLEASE TELL ME THAT'S TRUE

[alices--angel]

he’s gay he’s a gay angel he is a homo

[nadj112]

Even though the Last Hours serie has had mixed reviews—especially the ending, I still can’t find any other books that gave me the same victorian / gothic london feeling. That chapter from Matthew’s pov where Queen Victoria’s death is announced really scratches my brain.

[bayetea]

not the fucking mark of athena again

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

i appear to have made mortal nemeses with a pigeon

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

tumblr stop rooting for the pigeon

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

[oncasette]

put your loving where your mouth is

wally west x fem!reader

summary: 0.5k

“Gimme like thirty seconds and I’ll give you all the kisses you want, baby,” he says before shoving the toothbrush back into his mouth. Your eyes narrow. You could wait. You could let him finish brushing his teeth and be content just laying on him, but you’d already been up for a little over an hour at this point while Wally slept in and you were basically foaming at the mouth at this point. You just want a kiss from your boyfriend. Is that such a crime?

or the one where you desperately need to kiss your boyfriend.

masterlist

Something insatiable had overtaken you. Maybe it was the fact that Wally had started staying over more. Maybe you were ovulating. Maybe it was just the fact that you were just so incredibly in love with your boyfriend. 

You couldn’t keep your hands off of him.

Or your mouth, to be more precise. 

He winks at you through the mirror when you slip into the bathroom. He’s got a mouthful of toothpaste and his hair’s a mess and he can barely seem to keep his eyes open. It nearly makes you want to squeal.

He steps forward to let you curl around his back, the way he knows you like to do when neither of you are rushing out the door. 

“Hi,” he manages to mumble out around his toothbrush. His free hand finds where yours are joined at his navel. 

“Hi, handsome,” you hum. He’s still warm. He usually is, anyway, but you can feel the heat of sleep still emanating off of him. You shift to place your chin on his shoulder, attempting to coax him into turning towards you. He raises a brow at you through the mirror. Unfortunately, he knows what you’re up to.

Bending forward, he spits into the sink. He squeezes your hands to coax the pout from your head slipping off his shoulder from your lips. 

“Gimme like thirty seconds and I’ll give you all the kisses you want, baby,” he says before shoving the toothbrush back into his mouth. Your eyes narrow. You could wait. You could let him finish brushing his teeth and be content just laying on him, but you’d already been up for a little over an hour at this point while Wally slept in and you were basically foaming at the mouth at this point. You just want a kiss from your boyfriend. Is that such a crime?

Shaking your head, you start by pressing your nose into the nape of his neck. Your lips follow, then begin their trek towards his jaw.

“Baby,” he grumbles, muffled and foamy. 

You wiggle one hand free from the grip he still had on you, affording him just enough time to slip the toothbrush out of his mouth before you’re tilting his jaw back just enough to smack a loud kiss against his lips. 

Despite his grumblings, he kisses back with a grin. 

“Don’t act like you’re not obsessed with me, West,” you say as he spits and rinses before shaking you off to spin in your hold. “You know I am,” he laughs, hands falling down to their natural resting place on your hips. “I just felt it was impolite to kiss my girl with a mouth full of toothpaste, is all.”

“Screw polite,” you hum, before leaning in to kiss him again. He concedes for a total of five seconds before he pulls back.

“How is it?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Minty?” 

“Shut up,” you groan, but you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. 

“Ah, you’re right. You wanted it mintier,” he says, pecking your lips once, then again like he’s chasing it. “You know, ‘cause you couldn’t wait for me to spit or anything. I’ve got mouthwash if-”

You cut him off with a firmer kiss, smushing his cheeks with one hand to prevent any more rambling. 

[twylatistic]

The Gossip but it’s monster high

[spaceodyssie]

teeny jason with braces doodles i did for twit, but i'll post em here too

ily braceson todd

[impishthing]