This Man Listens To Avril Lavigne In The Car Btw So Imagine What Mix He Has Going On 😂

He's so sweet and lovely 🎀🎀

I’m a changed woman after this. 🙏🏽

a love like religion

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut MDNI, unprotected sex, gentle dom!jason, size difference, creampie, biting and scratching hard enough to draw blood, all the pet names from Jason (baby, sweetheart, ma, mama, darlin’, honey), lots of aftercare, hints of codependency from jay and reader.

a/n: was daydreaming about jason (as per usual) and got to thinking about how if he were real I would be so down bad for this man it would be borderline unhealthy. something something about your lover becoming your god or whatnot. ngl wrote this with a bit of a “bones and all” vibe in mind of just needing jay in every conceivable way and it uhhhh…spiraled. so here, have some fucking with copious amounts of aftercare and maybe codependency if you squint?

divider credit: cafekitsune

There aren’t many things in life you can be certain of. The ever changing tides of fate have washed you ashore and swept you back into drowning more times than you can count. You’d grown used to it, the ephemeral nature of being alive. You relied on the two things you knew to be unwaveringly true: you are currently living and breathing; and one day you will die, and the living and breathing will be over. You did not anticipate adding any other unchangeable qualities to this list. You now have one that supersedes every other: you love Jason Todd.

You love him more than anything in this universe or the next. You love him like you love air to breathe. He’s your entire world. The sun holds itself in the smiles he reserves only for you, the stars in the gleaming of his seafoam eyes when the moonlight hits them just right, gravity residing in the weight of his hands on your waist.

You love Jason so much you wish you could crawl into his chest, nestle yourself between his ribs and feel the beat of his heart from within. You can’t, of course. But right now, with his broad frame between your thighs and his hips rocking relentlessly into yours? It’s as close as you can get.

It’s intoxicating, the combination of physicality and emotion. Jason feels so good. His cock pushes against every sweet spot you have, delicious toe-curling drags that have you whimpering his name. And he’s so big. It feels like he’s splitting you in half even though he’d spent a good half hour prepping you on his fingers and his tongue. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Feeling your body give way to him, conforming to the shape and weight of him—it’s like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Nothing compares to Jason.

That’s part of it too. Sure, the feeling of him driving his thick cock into you would be amazing no matter what. But doing this with him while knowing how much he loves you, how much you love him? It’s divine. No heaven could come close to this. You’d take an eternity with him over anything else.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, ma. Feel so fuckin’ good around me,” Jason moans as he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jay–Jason, please,” you whine.

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. He’s giving you everything you need. His hips rock back and forth at the perfect pace, deep thrusts that you swear you can feel all the way in your throat. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over his lower back in an effort to keep him close. He’s buried to the hilt inside you and yet you still want more.

“What is it, baby? Tell me what ya need,” he pants. “I’ll give you anythin’, sweetheart. Anythin’ you want.”

“You.”

The word tumbles from your mouth over and over and over again. He’s reduced you to a crying, needy mess, incapable of thinking about anything other than him. But he knows you all too well and indulges you in your request. He leans in closer, using all his weight to pin you between his warm body and your disheveled blankets.

All you know is Jason. His large frame above you, so big that he blocks the candlelit bedroom from your sight. His voice cooing praises in your ear—you’re so beautiful, takin’ me so well darlin’, I’m all yours sweetheart. His lips kissing and biting adoring bruises into your neck, your collarbone. How heavenly the wet strokes of his cock feel inside your over sensitive cunt. He moves his hand down to rub your clit at the same time that he licks his way into your mouth and you’re done for.

Burning, bright—a white hot supernova that explodes across every nerve ending from your head to your toes. Your legs lock around him as your whole body shudders. Your nails rake across his back and biceps, pretty red lines blooming over his scars. Your teeth sink into his shoulder and you recognize the coppery taste of his blood. The pleasure-pain of your bite draws forth Jason’s orgasm and the warmth that floods you makes you dig your claws in deeper. You mark him as he marks you. A permanent claim, tangible evidence of the love that hums between you. You have one semi-coherent thought before your mind becomes static: you’re as full of him as you can be; mouth, nails, pussy—you’ve got him in every part of you now.

You don’t realize you’re sobbing until you feel his gentle hands wipe the tears from your face.

“You with me, mama?” he whispers, forehead resting against yours.

You hiccup. It takes all your energy to nod weakly in confirmation. You cling to him, not letting him move an inch away from you. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you as close to him as physically possible. The movement causes his half hard cock to grind deliciously inside you and you’re gasping into the crook of his neck.

“Stay. Please,” you beg through tears.

Jason just holds you tighter to his chest, and you find safety in the strength of his embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m stayin’ right here with you,” he assures you.

After a few moments, your head clears ever so slightly. You become conscious of touch. Your hands twitch back to life and you discover that Jason has placed them around his neck. Your fingers rest against his pulse, the steady badum badum badum lulling you back to lucidity. You blink open your teary eyes and see concern swirling in the deep sea green of your lover’s.

“Was it too much? I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, baby. I’m sorry,” he whispers, gentle as the winter rain that’s beginning to fall outside.

“Not overwhelmed,” you mumble into his neck. “I just love you.”

Your voice cracks on those four words. You break under the bruising weight of your love for him. You think it could kill you, could bury you six feet under, and you would happily die for it. You would happily die for him. You don’t think you’d want to go out any other way. His hand in yours; it’s the only way you can exist now.

Jason feels it too. He knows you almost as well as you know yourself. He knows how complete your devotion is to him, how he could ask for anything and you would offer it up without hesitation. He knows his is the same. You could demand his heart on a silver platter and he’d go grab his daggers that are displayed neatly on the wall and the fine china back at Wayne Manor. And maybe it’s a lot, maybe you’re both a little too attached. But how could either of you possibly care when loving each other felt this good?

So he handles you delicately. He soothes you when your sobbing returns as he goes to grab a warm washcloth. He wipes your tears as he cleans your combined spend off your thighs. He gently pulls a pair of his boxers over your hips, one of his hoodies over your head. He cradles you in his arms as he carries you to the living room to eat some snacks and continue binging The Great British Baking Show. You’ve come back to reality now. A soft peace settles across your overworked body and mind as you lie intertwined with Jason on the sofa.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little there,” you mumble into his chest, cheeks flushed and more than a tad embarrassed.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, honey. How many times have I done the same?”

It’s true. Most times it’s Jason that’s the sobbing, fucked out mess in the afterglow. It’s part of why the come down hit you so hard this time. You feel almost guilty, like you should’ve been able to hold yourself together better for him. You swear he can read your mind when he gently grabs your chin and turns your head to face him.

“Hey, none of that feelin’ bad bullshit. We take care of each other. It’s what we do. You’re the one always sayin’ that, right?” he asks, softly nudging his hooked nose against yours.

“Yeah, we take care of each other,” you whisper. “Forever and always?”

Jason absolutely beams at you, and suddenly nothing matters but him and the love you share in this little bit of time and space that’s all yours.

“Forever and always.”

— A. Y.

I'm just uterus with fertile eggs

I’M SALIVATING STOP ITTT

Literal poetry 😭💕

toxic!dad!rafe acting guilty and sweet around reader while she takes care of his kids because he acted her soo bad yesterday:( maybe hit her, maybe telling her reallyy bad things and she got hurt

This is so good wtf I love this idea it's lowkey fucked me up tho 😔

The morning was quiet, save for the soft tune of a lullaby Y/N absentmindedly hummed under her breath. She sat on the floor of the living room, legs folded beneath her, while her daughter sat in front of her, small and fidgety as Y/N carefully braided her soft curls. The little girl giggled every time her mothers fingers tickled the back of her neck, her chubby hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.

“Almost done, baby”

She murmured, gently smoothing her daughter’s hair before looping the final section of the braid. Her reflection in the door leading out to the garden, it caught her off guard. The faintest streak of red where Rafe’s signet ring had nicked her skin. The light swelling of her cheek, just enough to make her wince when she thought too hard about what had happened. Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the memory away but the calm didnt last for long.

She felt him before she saw him.

Rafe’s presence lingered in the doorway, heavy and suffocating. She knew he was watching- had probably been watching for a while now. Still, she didn’t acknowledge him, she just kept braiding. Rafe cleared his throat.

“I, uh- made you that tea y'like...”

Y/N didn’t respond. He shifted on his feet as he looked down to the little girl sitting. He muttered, nodding toward their daughter’s hair.

“Looks nice”

Y/N tied off the braid with a small elastic as she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before nudging her forward.

“Go show your bunny baby”

The toddler wobbled off, giggling as she held the braid over her shoulder, showing it off to her stuffed animal like it was the best thing in the world. Y/N took a breath, exhaling slowly, then pushed herself off the floor. She barely got a step away before Rafe moved, cutting her off.

“Y/N…”

His voice was softer now. Careful. Like he knew he was treading dangerous ground. She felt his fingers barely graze her arm, his touch feather-light as they trailed down- over the bruise he left on her wrist, over the soreness beneath her skin. But then he stopped.

Right at her cheek.

The pad of his thumb brushed over the small cut, and she flinched causing him to pull away immediately. She turned to him then, finally looking at him. The guilt was evident in his face, but she said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t waver. His jaw clenched slightly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Not in anger- just restraint.

“I just... fuck Y/N, I don’t wanna fight—”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, quiet and humorless. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, letting out a sigh as his head nodded a little.

“I know.”

She shook her head, turning away from him, her eyes landing on their daughter who now sat near her play pen, enamoured with some pink blocks wheezie had bought her.

“What were you even so angry about, Rafe? What was so fucking bad that you had to hit me?”

He paused at her words, yet her voice wasn’t yelling. It wasn’t even angry anymore. That made it worse.

“I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“I don’t know.”

He did know.

It had started over something stupid. He had been out late- again. She had called him- again, multiple times, like she did every night. And when he finally came home, she had been pissed—rightfully so. Their argument had escalated soon after that;

"You can’t just disappear all night, Rafe."

Her voice was irritated but careful- not because she wasn’t angry, but because she knew better than to raise it in the house when everyone was asleep. Knew that if anyone overheard, it would just give him another reason to twist things around, to make her seem like the problem starter.

"I was handling business."

Rafe’s voice was humerously calm, but it wasn’t apologetic. It was clipped, defensive, like he was already prepared for a fight. Like he had expected this reaction from her. Y/N scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh, right. ‘Business.’ That’s what we’re calling it now?"

That got his attention. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark crossing his face as he took a slow step closer. He muttered out, voice sharp and dangerously low.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, jesus Rafe. You're a dad now—you can't do this shit anymore."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. Her arms tightened around herself, her voice cracking just slightly before she forced it steady again.

"You can’t be out all night doing God knows what and then just waltz back in like nothing happened."

"I just told you, I was handling shit."

He exhaled harshly through his nose, running a hand over his face. She shook her head as she looked at him, her hands were shaking from the fact she was arguing with him in the first place but she couldn't stop herself anymore.

"Handling what?"

She shot back, her voice strained but still hushed. She was tired- exhausted even. She'd been looking after their baby girl all by herself, days and nights, and she'd had enough. She was miserable and that's not what she wanted to be

"Whatever bullshit mess you got yourself into again? Do you even think about her? Do you care you've left me by my—"

"Of course I care." His jaw tensed, his entire body wound tight like a spring.

"Don’t fucking act like I don’t care."

He snapped at her and she took a step back, shaking her head, the lump in her throat growing.

"Well you don’t act like it."

She let the words hang between them for a second, watching his expression shift, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. She was so sick of his shit, she just wanted to scream at him, but she didn't- she couldnt. Yet before she could stop herself the words fell from her mouth,

"You're just like him, you know that?"

His entire body went rigid as the sentense passed her lips, and he instantly tured around to face her.

"What?"

Her throat felt tight, but she didn’t back down. "You're just like your dad." she whispered.

"Someone who pretends to care about his family but in reality—"

The slap came fast.

A sharp, stinging pain shot through her cheek, her head whipping to the side as she gasped. His signet ring sliced against her skin, the warmth of blood rising in its place almost instantly.

Silence

She barely registered the sound of her breath hitching, or the way her vision blurred for a second before sharpening on the floor. Everything felt muted, heavy. Her cheek burned and her ears rang, the sound reverberating. Rafe was just standing there, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell quickly, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides at the burn in his palm. His eyes weren’t on hers. No, they were fixated on the mark he had just left, on the crimson dot blooming just below her cheekbone. And then, his voice—low but edged with something unsettling.

"Don't ever fucking say that to me."

Her eyes were now unreadable, dark with exhaustion and something heavier. He hadn’t seen her cry last night. Not in front of him. Not after she had staggered back from the slap, a thin line of red appearing beneath her cheekbone where his ring had nicked her skin. She had just gone quiet and that had fucked with him more than anything.

“I just wanna make it up to you.”

Rafe said now, voice barely above a whisper. Y/N blinked, eyes burning as she mumbled out in return.

“I don't know...”

She stood there, breathing him in- his presence, his guilt, his need to smooth things over like last night never happened. Her cheek still stung faintly, the cut from his ring a sharp reminder of how far he’d taken it. And yet, Rafe was standing there, looking at her like he was the one hurting. Like he was suffering under the weight of his own actions. Her lips parted, words barely forming before she was cut off-

“Dada!”

Their daughter’s voice broke through the thick tension, her small feet pattering against the hardwood as she toddled toward them. She latched onto Rafe’s trousers with both hands, tugging insistently.

“Up!”

She demanded, eyes big and expectant. Y/N’s stomach twisted the moment Rafe bent down without hesitation, scooping their little girl into his arms with ease. His large hand supporying her small frame, letting her rest against him.

“Forgive me, please”

He murmured again, but this time, his voice was softer, edged with something sweeter. Y/N swallowed, throat tightening.

She knew what he was doing.

He knew she wouldn’t start a fight with him while their daughter was in his arms. He knew she wouldn’t reject him, not with their little girl looking between them, not with her small hands resting against his chest, oblivious to the storm simmering beneath the surface of her parents relationship. Rafe studied her carefully, watching the way her expression shifted- conflicted, torn. His grip on their daughter tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder of what was between them, what they shared.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered.

“Let me fix this.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her gaze flickering to their daughter. She was sucking her thumb now, head resting lazily on Rafe’s shoulder, so blissfully unaware. She clenched her jaw, blinking rapidly at the water pooling on her waterline, lips pressing together into a thin line. And then- their daughter, still nestled in Rafe’s arms- turned her head slightly, her little eyes locking onto Y/N’s. The small hand that had been contently resting against Rafe’s chest now reached out towards her, fingers wiggling with in a grabbing motion.

An unspoken demand for her to come closer.

Y/N’s chest tightened. The sight of their daughter’s small, innocent gesture, that soft yearning for her mother, cracked through her resolve. She had no words, just the flutter in her chest with caused her breath to hitch.

“Okay”

Y/N whispered, so quietly it could’ve been mistaken for a breath. Rafe’s eyes softened, a glint of triumph flashing briefly before he stepped forward, a slow, deliberate smile tugging at his lips. Before Y/N could fully process the shift, Rafe closed the space between them, pulling her closer and capturing her lips in a kiss.

It was slow.

Sweet.

The kind that carried an underlying ache, as though they both knew that they were only putting a temporary bandage over something far more complicated. But in that moment, Y/N didn’t pull away, she couldn't bring herself to. Instead she let him kiss her and let herself fall back into the illusion of peace.

this lowkey made me want to sob. . . ?

art & photos are not mine - cr:

♡ top left is Testing the waters by Kim Cogan (2009)

♡ top right is Late Night Shower by Sasha Hartslief (2021)

♡ bottom picture is Interlude by Jeremy Lipking @lipking

~ Lila x

Can you write a fic where John and Amelia meet each other’s families?

promise of love, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: john meets amelia's parents, but one of them is reluctant to give him their blessing.

an: hope you enjoyed, anon!

“I believe any man that she is with should be bringing something to her life. If you aren’t a positive addition to her life, then what are you? What are you contributing to her life?” 

Amelia’s eyes closed at the question of her father. Her chest heaved as her heart rate increased. She prayed like a saint day and night, begging God to ensure that the meeting would be beneficial, filled with love and understanding. Yet, the tension was thicker than the snow outside. 

Thankfully, Amelia’s mother adored John; she welcomed him with a warm hug and gentle kiss. His charm swept her mother off her feet and had her just as weak in the knees as Amelia often found herself to be. Her father was the opposite. His stare was stone cold and his handshake was stiff. The one thing she wanted to avoid, failed to be avoided. 

Amelia glanced at her lover, who seemed not affected by the stoic nature of her father. John Egan was a soldier. He wasn’t easily intimidated. He was strong mentally, emotionally, and physically. He knew how to fight for what he wanted and was trained to never back down from a challenge. With a soft sigh, John leaned pressed his back against the wooden chair. 

“With all due respect, sir,” he started. Amelia inhaled sharply. “Relationships are necessary in every aspect of life. You know, you learn, grow, and experience life with another person on a deeper level. Amelia doesn’t need me at all; if anything I need her. I can’t offer her a million dollars and the newest car, but I can give her the love, honor, and respect she deserves. She’s the most important person in my life and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I swear by my life.” 

Amelia's father remained silent, his stern expression unchanged. He recognized where Amelia got her strong gaze from. Her father’s deep eyes bore into John's much lighter ones with an intensity that could intimidate even the bravest of souls. Yet, John held his ground, his gaze unwavering as he spoke from the depths of his heart. Amelia felt a mixture of anxiety and pride swell within her chest, grateful for John's unwavering commitment to her. Her hand dropped to his thigh, giving him a reassuring caress. 

After what felt like an eternity, her father finally spoke, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of begrudging respect. "Words are easy, son. Actions speak louder. You say you'll honor and respect my daughter, but can you prove it?"

Without hesitation, John met her father's gaze head-on. "Sir, I understand that trust is earned, not given. I may not have all the answers now, but I promise to show you through my actions that I am worthy of your daughter's love and trust. I'll stand by her side through thick and thin, and I'll do whatever it takes to make her happy."

Amelia's heart swelled with uinsung pride. She reached out and gently squeezed his hand, silently conveying her gratitude and love. In that moment, she knew that no matter the challenges they faced, they would overcome them together.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother nod in approval. Slowly, his father did the same, saying lowly, “I hold you to that, son.” 

John nodded. “Yes sir, you’ve got my word.”

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Amelia said slowly with a small smile. She pointed toward the velvety dessert in the middle of the table. “Cake?”

Amelia's invitation to broke the tension in the room, providing a much-needed moment of levity. John flashed a grateful smile at her, relieved to move past the intense scrutiny of her father. With a nod, he accepted the offer, knowing that this simple gesture was a step towards building a bridge between himself and Amelia's family.

Soon, the atmosphere softened, filled with the warmth of familial love and acceptance. Amelia's mother beamed at the sight of her daughter and John, her heart filled with joy at seeing her child happy and loved.

With a sense of hope and commitment, John reached for Amelia's hand, intertwining their fingers as they shared a silent vow to face whatever challenges lay ahead together. 

With her father's reluctant approval and her mother's warm encouragement, Amelia felt a sense of peace wash over her. She knew that John was the one for her, and together, they would navigate the complexities of life no matter what.

“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they have come.”

Hot take but… “Gale was a teen soldier who got brainwashed, by a manipulative dictator, into the idea that sacrificing a small number of troops was worth it to definitively stop the government that had spent years ruining the lives of him and his people” and “Gale’s gross disregard for human life directly led to the death of Prim and thousands of other civilians including children, and Katniss is justified in her anger and has no obligation to ever forgive him” are two statements that can and should coexist together.