#almost???

[moonsandloons]

IM WATCHHING A DELTARUNE STREAM AND IM LIKE 29 MINUTES BEHIND. AND I CHECKED CHAT AND SOMEONE JUST SAYS “SKATEBOARD PHIGHTING.” AND BECAUSE THEYRE SO FAR AHEAD I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEYRE REFERRING TO.

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

It’s a Scheherazade retelling???

[caffeinatedtimdrake]

THat THING YOU WROTE FOR DICK U NEED TO WRITE THAGBFOR JASON UGH INLOVED IT WHAT DO YOU DO??? ARE YOU A MAGICIAN

(I really hope when you say ‘that thing you wrote for Dick’ you mean the whole make out session thing because otherwise I am so sorry) this is just over 900 words and i was on the verge of getting very carried away. 

Anyways here is some relatively steamy Jason x reader fluff and I hope it’s okay and that you eNJOY!!!!

It was a little alarming how easily Jason unraveled your sense of composure simply beneath the pads of his fingertips and the pressure of his lips, ghosting over the base of your throat. 

You’d come home agitated; with the world, with school, with the bus, with yourself. You stalked through the front door, grimacing and barely flinching when it slammed shut behind you. Jason, however, had jolted in the kitchen and nearly dropped the bowl of brownie batter. You didn’t even have to say anything to him - just by the way you dropped your book bag, heavy with monstrous textbooks and several trees-worth of notebooks, and barely grumbled a “Hello, Jason,” he knew you were terribly aggravated with the world. 

The world was often a shitty place, so he couldn’t blame you for the foul mood. He acted quickly, loading the brownie mix into a pan and setting a timer for half an hour.

He could work with half an hour. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, the hair is pulled off your face and your brow is still pulled into a taut frown. A few months ago, you would have walked into the apartment with a smile of sunshine to hide the shadows of an awful day, but you’d since grown comfortable sharing moments of vulnerability with Jason, something he relished graciously and always worked to reciprocate. 

“Hi, Y/N, light of my life.” 

The hard lines of your face soften at this, something gentle sparking in your pretty eyes. “Hi, Jason.” 

His smile is a tender thing, the warm curl of his mouth effectively defrosting your icy scowl and reminding you that not all the world is bad. Jason opens his arms and widens his smile and you can’t help the rush affection, lips tugging upward into a sheepish smile. It was impossible to be upset when he looked at you like you put the moon in his palm.

You gracefully move into his space, but lean over to unravel the knot in his cherry red apron, stained with flour and brownie batter. You hang it on a hook near the fridge and when you turn back around, his eyebrow is arched knowingly. 

“What happened, angel?” 

Something inside your chest practically croons at the sound of his voice, low and smoky and laced with affection, and it brings a wave of heat to your cheeks. “I’m just tired. None of my hard work pays off, no matter how much I dedicate myself. It’s exhausting. I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it.” You look at your mismatched socks and tell him this quietly, timidly. 

Jason’s heart cracks at the sight of you so distraught, but he knows not to push you. You will tell him when you’re ready. For now, he swarms your space and backs you up until you’re being pushed - but this time, against the wall.

It makes your head fuzzy and your chest ache in the best way when he enters your bubble, radiating heat and comfort, the faintest flickers of desire dancing in soulful sapphire. 

“No talking?” 

You grin coyly and look up at him through your lashes, shy and wanting. “No talking.”

He talks to you in a different way, then, sealing his mouth across yours and tangling his fingers in your hair. He easily hoists your legs around his waist, and you wind your arms around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him nip your bottom lip. When he traces the seam of your mouth with his practiced tongue, you part your lips and welcome him further, squeezing your legs.

He moves back minutely and you chase his lips, eyes fluttering open to meet an ocean of intimacy. 

“I know you said no words,” Jason murmurs, trailing his lips from the corner of your mouth, across the curve of your jaw, and finding that special spot at the base of your throat that makes you whine. “But there is so much to say.” 

“Hmm,” You chortle, tangling your fingers tighter in his hair. 

The first roll of his hips startles a gasp from your lungs. It’s slow and deliberate and creates the sparks of friction that begin coiling tightly in your belly. 

“You work hard, baby,” He tells you on the edge of a rich, musical moan, hands roaming down your back. 

“I know you do. I see you. You work so hard, and I promise,” He rolls his hips again, this time more fluid and leaving you winded and wanting, pressure building between your thighs where he’s fit so snugly. “All that hard work is going to pay off.” 

He reaches your ass and squeezes, savoring the way you jolt into him, heavy breathing and flushed cheeks. “J-Jason,” You croon, arching forward to rub your nose against his, barely brushing his mouth. 

“Sometimes I think you do too much. Work too hard.” He grinds against you now, pressing against you tightly for a moment too long in a way in just the right place that makes your legs jerk around him and wrenches a needy cry from your throat. You grip onto his shirt tightly and keen his name when he repeats the action. 

“Give yourself a break, sometimes, will you?”

He kisses you again, sweetly, in stark contrast to the mess he’s creating between your legs. 

“Can my breaks include things like this?” You ask breathily.

Jason smirks and tightens his grip. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

[tinfoilscribbles]

"La prochaine fois, ça ira mieux."

Josephine taunts her mark with well wishing for their next encounter (this time, in the form of a photo spritzed with perfume) and "borrows" another of his confidential files. Yes, of course, she absolutely wears the same perfume when assuming her everyday identity as an SRID intel officer.

I really wanted to have her helmet on but it would have been -3 sultry, so it was ditched.

[lxckyus]

who wants to punch me for free

[adastrvs]

·  ♡  .  ❛     NONVERBAL MEMES        ,      𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞       ↬     jack kelly    .

          with every step she took, regina felt the adrenaline rushing through her veins. this time, however, it was not the good kind. not the feeling she was usually searching for. she looked over her shoulder a couple of times and noticed the odd stranger that was following her. she tried everything: staying in crowded places, changing her route, pretending to talk on the phone. he refused to give up and at this point, she didn’t even know where else to go. her heart was beating faster and regina was no longer able to think clearly anymore. all she knew was that she needed to run. not focusing on her surroundings anymore, the scared blonde didn’t realize she was standing too close to the street and she didn’t hear the car honk either. it was like her head was wrapped in a bubble and she was not aware of her actions, her body moved by its own will. she had been dragged back to reality by a pair of strong hands that wrapped around her shoulders and pushed her back to the sidewalk, causing both of them to fall to the ground.    ❛    jack ?!   ❜    at this point, regina’s eyes were already watery and tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. and then realization and shock hit her at the sight of jack’s injuries. he saved her life.    ❛    jack, holy shit ! do i need to call an ambulance ? somebody, please call an ambulance !    ❜    of course he got injured, he used all of his force to push them back to the sidewalk and protected her with his body, badly scratching his skin. her eyes widened with fear, she couldn’t even look around to see if that man was still following her. she refused to take her eyes off him.    ❛    this is all my fault.. i —    ❜ ( @defyingrcvity​ )

[i-am-rmt]

In an effort to stay neutral, everything—feeling, word, action, emotion—was coursing through my veins, unable to escape, simply because I was keeping everything in, otherwise it would have all come crashing down to a bloody, burning mess, and heaven knows who’d clean it up, seeing as I’m busy kicking the remains, and you’re still staring, unable to look away or move, for fear I’ll start kicking you; so no, I don’t share much.

r/m/t