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inkskinned · 3 months ago

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she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is all true.#btw PLEASE be aware that she was NOT bi or anything else #this is about a straight lady stealin my work #although. yes i am also team “well babe if u like sapphic work so much.... hmm”#bonus: almost made a comment that everyone has completely stolen (without credit)#“your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest just so you could howl over losing a man”#and that line #while a banger #has been chopped and resold so much im like. :x well..... guess that's not mine anymore lol #ps edited bc i changed my mind about the length of this and how i introduced it #if ur like . didn't this have another 4 paragraphs. yes lol

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lovelyghst · 9 months ago

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just imagine ghost getting his Jacob's ladder piercing while he's dating you and after it's healed yall have sex for the first time and it's just like sensory overload

i know absolutely nothing about piercings, but this idea is simply too good to pass up. my brain is melting.

hmmm, thinking about ghost who, despite not being able to properly get off himself, is still so attentive to his sweet girl throughout the whole healing process; offering you his mouth and fingers whenever he notices your focus beginning to drift off and shift elsewhere, having you rub yourself up on his jean-clad thigh when you can’t seem to shake the burst of energy.

because while you never outright asked him for anything of the kind, he just knew.

and even if you were the one so insistent on following the piercer’s advice—taking each and every precaution possible in avoiding the risks that simon shrugged off as ‘not gonna happen.’—you still felt bad. though, he couldn’t resist your stern pouting for long, turning weak the moment you cocked your head and promised him a sweet treat when he’s all healed up.

so, of course, ‘whatever you say, doll.’

anything to put your pretty mind at ease. he is a soldier, after all. he can wait, even if it kills him. it got pretty damn close to it, too.

which is what makes the first time back so fucking good. that reunion, and the return of that glimmering look you get in your eyes every other time he presses his pink lips to your collar and gently hikes you up the mattress after a long time away.

and truthfully, he was done in the moment you tapped him on his shoulder and told him to guess what day it was.

“shit, baby—” he grits out with a heavy breath, eyes trained on your own as he watches you reverently lick up the underside of his cock. your fingers tighten around the base when his abs pull taut, tongue gliding over the cool metal.

taking your time in feeling each and every barbell leading to the tip, making him twitch in your hand at the hot and wet drag over his sensitive skin. a heavy breath seeps from his lungs, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold off. jesus, you’re too good to him.

a sweet fucking treat, indeed.

you giggle before taking the head of him between your swollen, spit-stained lips, reveling in the quick hiss he sucks in through his teeth as you whine at the familiar taste of his pre leaking onto your tongue. your other hand slips up his thigh while you squeeze your own together, your freshly done-up nails leaving little, pink crescent shapes in his thick skin.

“fuck— not gonna last ‘f you keep that up,” he warns, a struggle in and of itself, and it’s an utter miracle he doesn’t collapse to the floor when you only hollow your cheeks and suck in response. he hardly manages to stifle an embarrassingly whorish moan at that.

god, you look so pretty down there, on your knees for him. so fucking debauched, and so, so perfect.

the way your thumb toys with the piercings as you have your own fun, and how you preen in his hold like a sweet cat when he slips a hand to the back of your neck. he’s going to miss it when he forces himself to pull you away, frowning at the pout you give him as he’s lifting you off your feet and carrying you over to your bed.

“’m sorry, sweetheart… just too fuckin’ pretty for yer old man anymore— didn’t want it t’go to waste.”

he kisses your temple, mumbling his apologies in your hair. you hardly even register your bare back making contact with your sheets, so wrapped up in his hold, before he’s kissing his way down your neck.

“wanna fill yer pretty cunt,” he murmurs, and it’s nearly incoherent as his lips press against your racing pulse point. “make ‘er cum ‘round my cock… know y’missed it too, sweet girl. a proper fuck…”

he’s talking more to himself than anything, and a small gasp from you follows soon after when his arm is snaked between your bodies and his fingertips make contact with your swollen, little clit. won’t even stretch you out with his fingers; he’s had his fill of that over the course of the last month. let him feel how much you missed his cock.

“poor thing’s soaked f’me, baby.” he groans as he adjusts on his forearm and regains his bearings, dick twitching against your thigh with every noise squeaked out from your throat. “cunt’s gonna take me just right, lovie… so fuckin’ well…”

he rambles a lot when he’s needy, you’ve come to learn.

you whine when his hand leaves you to take his cock in a fist, your nails digging into his chest and shoulder when he presses the head to your messy pussy. just the tip in and you’re already seeing stars, the shared moan between the two of you raw and pornographic.

he’s gritting out his swears before you try to shush his dirty mouth with a kiss, and he accepts it greedily, almost too eagerly.

your body reacts to his, simultaneously craving more and trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation all at once. your brain is fuzzy by the time he’s nearly bottoming out inside you, ears deaf to the unabashed sounds spilling from your lips as the feeling of his fresh piercings dragging against your every sweet spot burns itself into your memory.

and before you can catch your breath, a thumb is being pressed up against your sensitive bud once again, your legs constricting around him involuntarily as you jolt with a cry. heat prickles at your skin, his teeth at your jaw making your spine tingle.

he’s telling you to cum, begging you to make a mess of his cock.

his hand picks up its pace, hips grinding against yours sloppier than ever as he pleads right up against your temple for you to use him, just finish him off, fucking cum for him.

you squeeze around his cock like a vice and pull him straight under with you, arms locked tight around his neck as your pretty cunt utterly wrecks him. making him throb and twitch, fucking himself dumb through his high and wringing him dry of everything he’s kept pent up for you. at least for now, anyway.

his and your panting rings out in the room as he sits back on his knees, his cock still hard as he gently pulls out of you. watching his pearly cum bead from your slit, your chest gradually slowing down within the time he takes to drool over the sight of you.

it’s not long before simon has you laying on your tummy with your head in the soft sheets, a pillow slipped underneath your hips to prop you up. not making you do an ounce of work as he uses your warm, pliant cunt as his sweet cum dump for hours on end.

fucking you gently, lovingly, all while trying his best to keep his weight off your back. he kisses behind your ear, cooing praises and choked grunts that make your tummy flutter with butterflies. you can only giggle into the pillow nestled in your arms as he makes up for all the lost time.

filling you with load after load, the number becoming lost on your fuzzy mind after a certain amount, until your belly is achingly full and his cock is numb from overstimulation. only to coax you onto your back, easing your limp legs apart to watch his cum leak from your pretty hole. pressing a flat palm to your lower tummy, sighing in time with your strangled noises as your sensitive pussy drips more of his spend. leaning forward and licking it all up like some starved mutt; groaning at the taste, arms tightening around your hips as he eats his mess out of his pretty girl.

#this was originally two paragraphs #i got a little carried away #just a little #cod mw #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

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brucedefender4eva · 3 months ago

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A sort of fake not so fake-dating concept where the couple is dating but everyone thinks that they’re fake dating.

Hal and Bruce decide to tell their families that they’re together around the same time that they have to go on an undercover mission and pose as a couple.

No one ever outright says that they don’t believe them, but it’s mutually agreed upon. In fact, Bruce’s kids are a little offended that he’s trying to ‘trick them’ into thinking he’s in a healthy relationship at the moment. He has a track record and it’s made them a little biased.

Hal and Bruce are completely oblivious to everyone not believing them and are having the time of their life being a lovey-dovey couple in public with each other.

The others are just so surprised on how willing they are to immerse in their undercover roles but they figure that Bruce wants it to be as realistic as possible. Anything to make sure that nothing goes wrong on the mission, he’s Batman, it’s gotta be perfect.

They go on the mission and it goes flawlessly as expected and when they get back, everyone is expecting them to get back to their regular dynamic. Bruce passive aggressively hating on Green Lantern, and Hal going back to doing his best to shit on and annoy Batman.

But that doesn’t happen.

Since the two wrongfully assume that everyone knows that they’re in an actual relationship, they’re a lot softer around each other.

Obviously their snark and bitchiness never goes away, it’s who they are, but it’s not cruel and aimed to purposely hurt anymore. It’s playfully and gentle.

But still, no one is letting their guard down. Maybe this is a training lesson or something? They’re thinking about any and every possibility on why these two continue to pretend to be in a relationship.

Then, Damian walks in on them simply… sitting. Just sitting together.

Bruce is curled up on Hal’s side, letting the other man play with the loose strands of his hair as he reads a book. Hal whispers something into Bruce’s ear and the man lets out a genuine giggle and sighs softly, gazing up at him with such a fond expression that it’s painful.

Then they kiss. Nothing explicit. In fact, it’s just a peck, a simple brush of the lips before they go back to their comfortable silence.

Damian slips away and is faced with the realization that his Baba is in a genuine relationship with that man and he does seem happy. And really, isn’t that what Damian hoped his Baba would find?

Damian tried to tell his siblings but none of them believe him. They think that Bruce is bribing Damian with another pet or something and brush their little brother off.

The next to figure it out is Cass and Duke. Duke had finally agreed to her multitude of requests to help her practice for the next ballet showcase she had. As they’re walking through the halls, they can hear faint old timey music playing from the ballroom, which is confusing because usually no one comes over here unless there’s a gala.

They crack open the door, and in the middle of the room is Bruce and Hal pressed up against each other, simply swaying to the music. You can’t really call what they’re doing dancing, but it’s soft and intimate and just… lovely.

Hal’s head is pressed against Bruce’s chest, right where is heart is located. He seemed to be swaying to Bruce’s heartbeat rather than the soft music playing in the background.

Bruce is hugging the other man tightly, his eyes closed tight as he followed Hal’s lead.

Cass and Duke exchange a wide eyed look as the quietly close the ballroom door and run off, wondering how they didn’t believe them when it was obvious.

Again, the two tried to tell their sibling (Damian feels vindicated) but still, disbelief.

Tim is fully refreshed when he finds out so he can’t even blame what he see on being sleep deprived or in a coffee induced spiral.

Tim knew Bruce was wrapped up in his own case, a bad one where Bruce refused to let any of his children even look at the crime scene photos or read the victim’s autopsy’s, so Tim figured he’d have to be the one to get Bruce to go to sleep.

Tim didn’t bother knocking on the door to Bruce’s study, he simply opened it and froze when he realized Bruce wasn’t alone. No, Hal was also there.

Hal was holding Bruce. No. He was cradling his dad… and Bruce looked calm in the other man’s embrace. Bruce wasn’t crying or yelling or even angry, but still there was emotion radiating from him that Tim couldn’t place.

But as Hal squeezed tighter, it receded. There was still a heavy weight holding Bruce down, but now his dad was hugging Hal back just as tightly.

Tim slowly stepped back and blinked. Hal was there. Hal was there for his dad and he was taking care of him, being gentle, showing him love…

How could he ever think that they weren’t in love?

One morning, on the rare occasion Dick stayed over at the manor, he walked into the kitchen to find Bruce there.

Bruce was making breakfast, something he rarely did anymore. Dick has known Bruce longer than anyone in the house (obviously we’re not talking about Alfred) and he knows that Bruce is a good cook. But he also knows how taxing cooking can be for his dad, which is why Bruce doesn’t do it often.

But here he was, happily cooking breakfast early in the morning. Hal was there too, clinging onto his back with his face buried in his dad’s neck. Bruce gets Hal to lift his face to taste test something and Dick can see the exhausted yet adoring expression on his face.

Dick backs out quietly, his heart thumping in his chest. What the fuck? His Tati was in an actual relationship with Hal Jordan. Oh fuck. They are so in love.

Before Dick could get to him, Jason is also faced with the realization that Bruce was in a serious relationship

Jason misses his dad. He’ll never say that shit to his face but he does. So, he makes up an excuse to go and see Bruce. Maybe he’ll complain about something, maybe he’ll act nice. Jason will decide on the way.

It’s a Tuesday at 10 in the morning, so Bruce should be in the library for his morning reading. Jason pops his head in and is confused when he doesn’t see Bruce sitting in his designated leather recliner.

There’s no way Bruce isn’t there, so Jason stalks through the rows of the bookshelves searching for him. Just as he’s about to leave, he spots him.

Bruce is in the very back, usually where the kids sit because it only has beanbags. Hal is cuddled up in his dad’s lap, the sound of an audiobook is playing as the two stare at a book.

Jason watches silently as Jordan complains that most of the words are nonsensical while Bruce just chuckles and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Bruce hates audiobooks. They go too slow and he swears that he can hear the narrator’s nasally breathing and the sound of their spit sticking to the roof of their mouths.

But here he is, happily listening to an audiobook. Listening to an audiobook and smiling happily as Hal interrupts to comment, complain, or just make a joke.

Oh fuck. Damian was right. They are dating.

Steph doesn’t count herself to Bruce’s kid, no matter what the old man says. She doesn’t need a Dad, especially not if it’s Bruce.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want the guy to find happiness. It’d probably make him a lot more bearable to be around.

So, ignoring the laughable fake-dating scheme that she can see a mile away with Hal Jordan, she decides to take it upon herself and set Bruce up on some dates.

Bruce seems uncomfortable with the idea, no surprise there, but Hal (who is starting to hang around the manor more than she does) seems to think the whole thing is hilarious. Bruce keeps shooting him glares but it only seems to make the man laughed harder.

At first, the dates seem to be going well (yes she is spying, what else would she do with her day?) but then suddenly crash and burn. And who is doing the burning? Hal!

He’s at every restaurant, movie theater, or carnival that Steph sends Bruce to. Bruce seems incredibly smug every time Hal shows up with a pissed off expression and she just can’t figure out why.

After the tenth time of this phenomena, Steph was going to confront him. After Hal had scared of Bruce’s date and dragged Bruce away, she followed them to a nearby alleyway where she was greeted with an unusual site.

Bruce was laughing at the pouty expression Hal was sporting and pressing a flurry of kisses across the other man’s face, reassuring him that the dates meant absolutely nothing and Steph was just playing around.

Damn. Stephanie felt like a fucking idiot. Seriously, it was so obvious.

Alfred knew. Alfred probably knew Bruce was in love with Hal before Bruce knew he was in love with Hal.

Bruce has been in love before. And Alfred has always been there every step of the way, picking up the broken pieces of his little when he inevitably gets discarded and thrown away.

But he’s never seen Bruce like this before. So…

Alfred will keep watching, it’s what he’s best at. And he’ll be here for when Bruce needs to be put back together.

But maybe… maybe he won’t have to be this time.

Oh my, his son has grown up quite a bit. Alfred faintly wonders how Martha and Thomas would’ve felt, seeing their son so in love.

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