#I hope I fucking tagged this shit right

[babacontainsmultitudes]

RIP Will Campos the only person who was murdered this episode.

[felsicveins]

His heart belongs to another

And no other heart will do

[buttdumplin]

Spoiling Kyle. He needs to know how loved he is.

cw: Gaz x reader, latine!reader, transmasc!reader, established relationship, bdsm dynamics, praise, spanish terms of endearment, reader's genitals are referred to as "cock," “dick,” and "pussy", oral & anal (Kyle receiving), please let me know if i've missed anything! word count: 3958

“Repeat the rules back to me, please.”

“I move and you stop, hands to myself,” Kyle responds, each word breathier than the last.

“That’s right, mi vida,” you smile down at him, hand gently caressing the curve of his ass, light fingers trailing over the seam of where his thigh meets the plush of his cheeks. He can’t see you with his face buried into the bedding under him, his ass high in the air for you, but the honey in your voice is enough to have him arching deeper. “Always so beautiful, Kyle.”

His thighs tremble with the force of holding himself still, thick muscle twitching, and the sweat along his back glitters in the low light of the bedroom. You can hear him swallow loudly before he speaks, “You’ll undress too?”

Your hands continue to roam, keeping touches light to test his stillness, “Would you like me to?”

Kyle nods as eagerly as he can with his face crushed to the bed, hands flexing open and closed in concentration. You keep an eye on him as you shed your clothes, using the moment to also pull your box of equipment for the night from under the nightstand and onto the bed.

“So good, speaking up, telling me what you want,” the warmth of your words has him practically keening, his cock hanging heavy between his thighs. You reach down to give him a slow tug with your hand and his breathing stutters, precum blooming and dripping to stain the bed. He arches just a tiny bit deeper as he feels you position your body behind him, not enough for it to count as movement, but to present himself more fully to you. “Want to spoil you rotten,” you breathe into his skin as you nip at his ass, inching closer to his hole with open-mouth kisses. 

You’ve only just started and already he’s so lost in the sensations, his body heaving with every breath, his lips parted for the little moans you pry from him. It’s a fucking blessing to have such a gorgeous man splayed out like this in front of you, and an even bigger gift to know he’s yours. Tonight, you’re determined to make him feel just how appreciated he is, how loved, how wanted.

“Color?” you pause, your mouth a hair’s breadth away from his sweet hole. The way it twitches makes your heart swell and your pussy drip.

“Green. Very green.”

You reward him with a slow lick, your tongue held broad against his flesh, and a guttural sound rips from his mouth. His cock is so hard you can feel the deep throb of it in your palm. When he quiets down a little, you give another lick. He shudders under you and this time you don’t wait for him to still. Lick after lick, your hand working his length, you take in every little sound Kyle makes. Every sigh, every whimper, every stuttered breath. You can’t help but smile against his skin, proud of the joy he’s getting out of this. 

Once he’s pliant under you, his body rocking gently to keep pace with your mouth, you begin to push your tongue into him. Half a laugh escapes him, and he instinctively pushes against you for more. He’s too fucking delicious to be punished for it, so you let out a little hum against him, appreciating the way he grinds into your hand.

“Don’t need to hold back, sweetheart,” it comes out jumbled, but you don’t care, you just need to delve deeper into him with your tongue.

“Can’t,” his voice raw, “Wanna feel you.”

You move your hand to cup his balls, gently squeezing and tugging, “You will. Not stopping at one.”

With that, Kyle relaxes further into the bedding, inching his thighs further apart to give you more access. Again, you push deeper, thrusting into him with your thick tongue and only pulling back out to swirl and caress. The slick sounds of your hand on his cock only get louder with the spit running down from your mouth and all the precum he’s producing. It’s lovely, the wet clicking of your touch and the deepening moans falling from his mouth.

You feel him stiffen further, so close to orgasm, broken sobs bursting out of him. So when his hand reaches around to press your face deeper into him, you take the instruction. Pushing your tongue as deep as it will go, you focus on stroking him all the way through, reveling in the way the man jerks and trembles under you. Kyle is loud as he cums, his moaning long and drawn out, drowning in the feel of your hand on his cock and your tongue in his ass. His ears ring a little bit from the force of his orgasm, the world muted around him, his panting the only sound existing. You gently remove yourself from him, letting him collapse on his side, knees too weak to support him.

“Color?” your own voice rough as you lick your hand clean.

Kyle lays there for a moment, not saying a word, eyes zeroed in on your mouth and fingers, heavy breaths moving his chest. 

“Kyle?”

“Green.”

“Thank you.”

He reaches for you, bringing you down to lay next to him. Taking care to cover the wet spot on the bedding with his own body, he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth in his glow. You cradle his head against your chest, peppering his forehead with kisses and compliments. 

“Did so good. What a beautiful boy. So lovely and sweet.”

He melts against you, letting the quiet take over for a moment. It’s a pleasant near-silence you both inhabit, the only sounds coming from your ragged breathing and the quiet static of skin brushing against skin. A giggle escapes you when you notice he’s still hard.

“Ready for the next one?”

Kyle nods. His hand snakes down your side, over the curve of your hip, staring at your visibly hard cock, but you stop him before he can reach your pussy. You giggle again at the whimper he lets out.

“Tonight is about you, precioso. We’ll get there later.”

He looks up at you with such hopeful eyes that you can’t help but kiss him. Those sweet lips greet you eagerly, following your motions in adoration, tongue peeking out to seek yours. He groans at the taste, his chest rumbling with affection. He’ll never get enough of you, of the taste of you. And when it’s combined with his? It’s evidence of you two coming together, how could he not love it. 

You break from his hold, your kisses drifting over his jaw and down the column of his throat. The quick little nips you give there have him gasping. With a dip to the side, you bring your mouth to the stretchmarks on his chest and shoulders, tracing the pattern with your lips, teeth gently scraping. Your path continues down, your tongue laving at the curve of his tits, mouth wrapping first around one nipple and then the other. You take your time there, sucking, biting, teasing with your tongue until you see his shaking hands flutter to clutch at the bedding, the stunted jerk of his hips rocking your body. His nipples are swollen and tender by the time you raise your head, and you can’t help but smile at him, reveling in his grunt as you reach up to roll his left nipple with your fingers. 

“Such a wonderful boy.”

Following the lovely trail of hair, you make your way down his body, kissing and licking and biting, savoring the salt of his skin. A compliment sprouts from your lips each time he makes a sound because he’s so good, so pretty, taking all this love so well. Kyle can barely keep his hands to himself when your mouth reaches his hip, his fingers twisting into the bedding, the warmth of his panting breaths hitting you. You nuzzle into the dip of where his thigh meets his hip and bite at the lush fat of his body, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for him to wish you had. One of his hands lifts towards you, and you freeze as it comes closer. The pause is enough for him to remember, groaning as he pulls his hand back. 

Kneeling between his legs, your elbows nudge at his knees to open wider, and he immediately obliges. You take a moment to look at him. He’s fucking stunning. His eyes are a little glazed over, moving over your body in anticipation. Those lips you love so much are swollen from your kisses, spit slick making them shine. All along his body, you can see little patches of raised bumps on his skin, temporary marks of where your teeth sunk in with love. His cock jerks at your attention, weeping precum. Little shivers wrack his body, the motion of his breathing making the sweat coating him glisten.

“How did I ever get so lucky?”

Before he can say anything, you bend to take Kyle’s length into your mouth, as deep as you can manage. A choked sound spills from him at the warmth of your mouth, his cock gently following the curve of your throat as you take him deeper. You lift up, gently suckling, to see a dreamy smile on his face. It doesn’t stay for long, his lips falling open with another moan as you continue to bob, tongue swirling around the tip every time you rise. Your hand wraps around the length you can’t reach, stroking in rhythm. When his thighs start quivering, you release him with a soft pop of your mouth, much to his dismay, please please please pouring from him.

“I got you, cariño.”

A quick reach into the box next to you and you’ve got lube to coat the fingers of your free hand. Kyle, knowing exactly where this is going, spreads his thighs even wider. Bringing his cock back to your mouth, you gently lick at the tip, refusing to waste a single drop. Your other hand moves lower, gently sinking a single finger into him. He stills, his breath catching, until you slowly start working your finger in and out of him. 

You keep your mouth on him as you work him open, gently adding a second finger and then a third when he’s ready. His hands flutter at his sides, clearly struggling to keep them to himself. Each moan he releases, each gasp and choked breath, makes your pussy gush with need. You might be leaving a little wet spot of your own soon. But when you look up at him, his head thrown back against the pillow, his shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself back, you can’t seem to care about anything else.

When you finally feel he’s relaxed enough around your fingers, you curl them just a fraction, brushing against his prostate and making his hips jerk. You press a little harder and he clenches around you, his hips bucking up, thrusting deeper into your mouth. He mutters out broken apologies as you repeat the motion over and over again, unable to control his body anymore. You’d tell him his apologies aren’t necessary, that he’s free to take as much as he wants, but you’re too focused on sucking, giving his needy slit extra attention.

Reluctantly, you release him, the wet smack of his cock hitting his belly loud in the room. He lets out a long whine as you gently ease your fingers out of him. 

“Color?”

His answer is immediate and breathless, “GREEN.”

You can’t keep the smile from your face as you reach into the box again, this time pulling out your hand harness and the small blue dildo he loves so much, curved to hit his prostate. The smile Kyle throws at you in response is devastating, eyes soft and his bottom lip snagged on his tooth as he bites it. Strapping the harness into place, you straddle his thigh for a better angle. His eyes widen as you take your seat on his thigh, the position allowing him to feel just how wet you are for him, your cock throbbing against him. You wink at him, coating the dildo with a generous amount of lube.

You move slowly as you push the dildo into him, pausing every couple of seconds to let him adjust. Your other hand continues to work his length from root to tip, slipping down every now and then to cradle his balls as you know he likes. His hips rock the smallest amount, trying to take more, and you can’t find it in yourself to mention it. He’s been so good, so patient, he deserves to feel good. Once the toy is fully seated in him, your fingers curling beneath him, your blunt nails biting into the swell of his ass, you pause so you can both catch your breath. 

Kyle cups your jaw with one hand, turning you to face him, “I’m okay.” 

He strokes your lips, slipping his thumb into the warmth of your mouth. You suckle eagerly, rewarding him with a thrust of your hand, your wrist moving to make sure you hit his prostate. His whole body jolts with pleasure, your first couple of tentative thrusts hitting all the right spots. You know you’ve set the perfect pace when he lifts his hands to tease his nipples. Keeping your motions steady, you watch him writhe beneath you, his back arched in ecstasy, his head tossing from one side to the other, his tummy covered in the precum leaking out of him. One last check in and he replies with a chant of greengreengreen. You could cum untouched at the sight of him.

You scoot a little lower and bend, your mouth at his cock again, tongue running up the underside before allowing yourself to fully take him into your mouth. When you wrap your lips around him, you feel a hand come to rest lightly on the back of your head. He doesn’t push you or hold you, he just wants to follow the rhythm you’ve set, hand and mouth moving in tandem. Riding it out, he does his best to hold on, not wanting this to end even as you push him higher and higher towards a blinding orgasm. You glance at him quickly only to find him already searching for eye contact, unrestrained moans erupting from him. A grin breaks out on Kyle’s face as he lifts his knee to grind it against your soaked pussy, the pressure making you groan around his cock in your mouth and grind your dick against him. You both buck into each other, the sensations heightened. 

“Dámelo, mi amor,” voice whiney, practically begging him for his cum. 

He tenses at your words, you can feel him clenching down on the toy in your hand, his balls drawing up tight in warning. His grunts grow sharper, clearly holding himself off to make this last just a little longer. With a tiny twist to your wrist, you have his mouth falling open. You take him deeper into your mouth with a hard suck, and that’s all he needs. His cum floods your mouth, threatening to spill out the corners with how much he’s releasing, but you’re not wasting a drop. You’ve worked for this, you’re swallowing it all. You keep both your hand and mouth moving as he grips your shoulder to keep you from pulling away. You follow your orders, not withdrawing until he’s hissing with oversensitivity. 

Easing away slowly, you drop one last sweet kiss on the head of his cock. Kyle waits until you put your equipment aside to maneuver you over him, sitting up to wrap you in his arms and plant a heady kiss on your lips. You eagerly welcome his tongue, knowing he’s searching for traces of himself, loving the taste of his cum in your mouth. As his breathing evens out a little, and yours quickens with the intensity of the kiss, you break apart. 

“Good?” a little bit of self-consciousness creeps into you. 

“Heavenly,” he replies in between the kisses he leaves all over your face.

Encased in this bubble of intimacy, you both soothe each other for a while, hands lovingly running over skin, love-struck chuckles bursting out every now and then. Eyes lock a couple times as a check-in, joyful grins serving as affirmative answers. This could be the perfect end to the night, but Kyle has other ideas.

His touches, as calming as they are tracing patterns on your skin, wander lower. One of his hands makes it down to gently cup you. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that he doesn’t have to do anything, but a sharp hunger in his eyes silences you before you speak.

“This is still for me,” his tone possessive as he slides his fingers between your folds. “So fucking wet, so hard, just for me.”

You can’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. You’ve been dying to feel his touch this entire time, and now that you have it, it’s rendered you silent.

Kyle smiles down at you, fully aware of what he’s doing, “Gotta work you open, tesoro. So you can take all of me.”

He strokes your cock between his fingers for a moment, enjoying the way you thrust against him before shifting to slide a single finger into you, and your eyes flutter closed. You start panting almost immediately, tongue darting out to keep your lips from drying. Watching you with rapt attention, he works another thick finger into your pussy, feasting on each twitch of your body. His hand is drenched in your juices when he finally adds a third finger, the loud squelching splitting his face with a boyish grin. 

He bends his wrist a fraction, bringing the heel of his palm to press against your dick, and you all but fall apart in his hands. You chant a soft don’t need it, don’t need it even as you grind into his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders. The grip he has on your hip is nothing short of encouraging, adding to the momentum of your rocking. You feel like he’s barely touched you and still your whimpering grows louder, your body too worked up from the pleasure you’ve given him. This is meant to be about him, and yet he’s whispering in your ear that he needs it, that’s right grind that sweet little cock against him, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder. That possessive marking sets you off. The fragile thread in you snaps, spreading a tortuous heat through your body, cumming so hard that your pussy clenches down on Kyle’s fingers and nearly locks you into place. Still, he keeps moving and curling his fingers as best he can, drawing out your orgasm until you’re trying to flee from his touch. 

“Thank you,” he says, placing little kisses on your cheek, “I needed that.”

You playfully shove at him and stick your tongue out, laughing at his silliness and lifting yourself off him. He quickly sneaks his fingers into his mouth, eyes closed tight as he practically growls at the taste of you. His cheeks hollow with the intensity of how he sucks your juice off his hand, his palm smearing the rest onto his chin. He wants to make a comment about needing to suck you off directly, but his mouth is too full to talk around.

Reluctantly, you break his private moment, “Still good for another?” You gently grasp his cock, hard again at the taste of your pussy, and give a tentative stroke.

He hisses, bucking immediately into your hand, “Won’t last long.”

“Don’t need to. Just gotta fill me up,” your strokes growing more confident.

His hands come down on your hips and he practically wrestles you into place on top of him again, eyes dark and focused, but he restrains himself a little as you pull back. You motion him to sit higher on the bed, help him settle so he can lean against the headboard comfortably. 

One last check in and green has you sinking down onto his cock, your pussy almost unbearably tight around him. He twitches inside you, and choked sobs ring from both of you as you try to adjust, his hands gripping tight at the plush of your hips, keeping you locked in place. You wrap your arms around his neck, blindly pulling him into a kiss with too much teeth but it’s too fucking good to stop. The press of his bush against your swollen dick has you moving, needing the friction. With Kyle’s help, you rock back and forth against him, keeping him nestled deep inside of you and still giving you both the motion you need. 

You don’t know exactly for how long you stay in that position, hips rutting and sweat pooling, your chests pressed to each other, breaths shared through open mouths. It’s too good to stop. Every time you pull your hips back you can feel his cock brush against yours, and you’d kill before letting yourself lose that. He’s of the same mind, dragging your hips back and forth as he leaves a trail of bites along your neck and shoulder. But the pleasure is quickly building in you both, and you know what he needs.

Without breaking your stride, you lean back enough to create space between you. A deep sound rumbles in Kyle’s chest in protest, but it dies when you slide two fingers into his mouth and press down on his tongue. He immediately devotes himself to coating them with spit, unsure of where it’s going but too excited to ask. When he’s done enough, you reach between your bodies to circle his nipple with your wet fingers. He jerks with a curse, hips moving involuntarily. You keep at it, pinching and rolling his nipple, moving to the other one for equal attention. His pace picks up, taking over your movements and rocking you against him. You bring your mouth to his ear, just enough to reach and not disrupt his rhythm, to whisper praise into his ear, tan lindo, tan dulce, taking such good care, taking you so well, what a perfect boy. Using the honed strength of his arms, Kyle stops your rocking and instead lifts you to bounce on his length, his hips rising to meet yours as he cums deep inside. He moans into your neck and reaches down to place his knuckles on either side of your cock, quickly jerking. This time he’s the one speaking, need this, need this, cum for me. His thumb gently brushes against the head of your dick and that’s all it takes. You writhe in his arms, and he bites into you again as he feels you pulsate around him, stroking you through your orgasm. 

Neither of you can bear to move as you catch your breath, soaking in the affection clear on both of your faces. You can even feel his smile as he kisses your forehead. You kiss every part of him you can reach, savoring as much as you can. The sweat on your bodies starts to cool when you finally break apart. 

“Thank you for letting me do this tonight,” you tell him, noticing his eyes are starting to droop with sleep just as yours are. You cup his face and bring him in for a sweet kiss. 

“Si algún día llego a decirte que no, corta conmigo de inmediato.” he says, the seriousness of his stare belying his laughter. 

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[b4kuch1n]

hi! birthday. which means it's finally time t

yo what the itch store is fixed up now

damn what? I don't know where this came from. look all the comics I put on g*mr**d a year ago are back here again with all the formatting and typesetting by @fireflysummers as well as the exclusive bonus art wtf who did this. my werewolf comic on here too what the hells!! that one also got re-toned for printing if u want to AND an exclusive cover spread !!! what the fuck!!!!! come see for urself I can't make this shit up

[itsjustpoopeh]

they're fictional characters with a total of 10 minutes screen time, buddie or bucktommy shippers wanting them dead so we can get cute family storylines is not some moral failing that needs calling out

911 is not a soap but it is a drama and if anyone thinks the possibility of that baby coming back isn't brought up in the writers room in the next few years then people really need to stop talking about "media literacy" when they're that stupid

y'all's determination to fridge every woman like they're just an incubator for your fanfic is fuckin disgusting misogynistic behavior and I hope you live a long and fruitless life haunted by your mediocrity and eventually die still mad about not getting it. toodles! 😘😘😘

[jochona]

i will wash my hair tomorrow

[imminent-danger-came]

[id: a drawing of older rayla from the dragon prince. she stands and holds both of her blades. one arm is at her waist and the other rests on her shoulder. she smirks towards the viewer. the background is purple with darker purple lines as a frame. end id]

A Rayla I drew for my commission sheet!

[batsplat]

https://es.motorsport.com/motogp/news/acosta-visita-ktm-quien-manda-entender-lugar-correcto/10633133/

i couldn’t find an english version of this but I think you can translate it.

maybe i interpreted it wrong but to me it seems like a way to put pressure on ktm. he’s basically saying that if ktm don’t take the necessary step forward to allow him to fight for the title he’s not going to stay here forever and just trust the project. furthermore, it seems to me to be yet another proof that a kind of hierarchy has arisen among ktm riders, despite how much ktm denies it. because i have never seen binder go all the way to austria and say publicly that he wants to check if the project is going well. the news of starlacchini's departure seems to me to be a sign that there are big changes underway at ktm, but we don't know if they are positive or negative. i think that ktm must be very careful not to let the hare escape, because the boy seems very smart and with very clear ideas. what do you think?🤔

anon cheers for sending me this, my eyebrows gradually disappeared above my hairline as I read this. love this, it's fantastic. and yours is definitely not a wrong interpretation whatsoever like he basically... is just saying that? when he isn't saying it, the article sure is! plus, it sounds like pedro's not entirely sure himself whether those internal changes are positive or negative! sounds like he's looking for some more information on that front!

low-key 'what tf is going on at ktm' has been one of THE best storylines this season. top two/three depending on whether you consider 'what tf is going on with the title fight' and 'what tf is going on at ducati' to be the same or separate stories. we've even had a real swing DURING the season from 'has this bike always been good and the riders are just worse than we thought' to 'does this bike just suck now'. like, ignore the acosta of it all for a second, binder was getting a second place in qatar, there were three ktm's in the top ten in portimao (though binder should've been like... seventh not fourth on merit but never mind that). they're nowhere right now! even if acosta has made the other three ktm's panic, binder hasn't suddenly forgotten how to ride a bike. this bike does seem to have some serious gremlins, to my understanding there's some serious chattering problems not dissimilar to what the gp24's were dealing with earlier this season? and pedro's just been better at riding around those issues. but these last few weekends have just generally been bad! pedro's had a bunch of kinda scrappy weekends that feel like what you get when a rider is trying to over-ride an uncompetitive package plus rookie exuberance. a bit more error prone, though generally you look back at the end of each weekend and would say he was fairly comfortably the fastest ktm. and the way it's worked out is at the same time as the on-track situation has gotten *bleh*, it's also signed up what on paper should be a very strong rider line-up for next year, with two high profile signings from other factories. like, there's a very real possibility that pedro doing slightly silly things for a few races has suckered in Certain Riders into thinking that bike is actually better than anyone thought and it turns out that, no, this is all going in a deeply unpromising direction. who knows! very excited to find out

anyway, obviously one guy who is also extremely invested in the 'is ktm actually shit' question is one pedro acosta, who really should be fighting for the title next year. I do get why he signed that two year deal! but also... before we get into the article, it's worth remembering that. y'know. pedro's not an idiot. he did sign with ktm knowing what kind of pull he has, but also I reckon there's probably a certain degree of wariness towards that entire organisation and how they operate? pepperidge farm remembers pedro's long-standing friendship with remy gardner, who was fired by ktm during his rookie season in 2022 and had been deeply, deeply unhappy within that organisation. at phillip island that year, remy's last home race, pedro celebrated the podium by donning the racing number of his good friend:

like!! here's what pedro said about his friend's situation in the middle of the season:

obviously pedro's stuck with ktm, but you'd have to imagine he would've at least been paying attention to that whole saga, no? ktm's treatment of its riders is one of those things that hasn't bitten it in the arse yet (though they have lost riders before through a combination of misfortune and incompetence, cf one jorge martin), but there's always a risk that eventually it will start doing so. last year, when ktm had its whole 'whoops why do we have five riders under contract' saga, there were definitely silly season rumours of pedro taking his services elsewhere. in the end, ktm forcibly made room for him, and obviously they've had a ridiculously successful start to their time together... but. pedro didn't go into that team with any naivety about how exactly they operate. and so we may have arrived to a slightly unprecedented place with a rookie where the factory might genuinely need the rider more than the rider needs them. ktm needs to keep pedro to win a title!! pedro didn't have fantastic options elsewhere, especially given the dominant factory looks like a closed shop for the next few years, and at least with ktm you know they're gonna be throwing a shit ton of money at any problem that arises (unlike with, say, aprilia). but at the end of the day, ktm cannot afford to lose pedro! whereas pedro can entirely plausibly win a title elsewhere. that gives him a LOT of pull

anyway, onto the article:

'the impression is that pedro will visit ktm' 'to understand if his bet on this manufacturer is correct' I would say that impression is correct! the parallel that immediately came to my mind was marc showing up at one of the races while he was still recovering from surgery in 2022 to 'inspect' what was going on at honda. and like, the ktm's had a poor few races, but this is... it does certainly feel quite pointed? cf "rome wasn't built in a day" - he knows progress might not be immediate, but he sure expects it to happen

"yes I have a one-way ticket but not a return ticket" lol

here's the rest of the article:

anyway, yeah, look - cynicism aside, it's kinda neat and cool that he's interested enough to actually go to the factory! it's fun that he's curious about it, that he wants to know what the actual process is of developing that bike, that he wants to meet the people involved! good on him! but of course it's also... yeah, a fact finding mission of sorts... I wouldn't go as far as to call it a power play, but it's pretty notable that you've got a rookie rider who wants to make sure he is very much a part of the conversations of where this project is going. he's integrating himself even more into that team! he wants them to explain how everything works to him! he feels that he's entitled to those explanations, and he's right! he's well aware of his own importance to the team - and is already willing to assert his status as the guy. this whole project needs to be organised around making him a title contender, sooner rather than later

which... isn't that the main thing that jumps out? he's impatient! he's hungry! he's confident enough in his own abilities and what he's doing that he knows he will be ready to fight for a title soon, if he isn't already! but as far as he's concerned, it's the team that's got to show him that they're actually making progress. also... I mean, it's worth pointing out that he isn't just going to the factory in austria, he's openly talking about going to the factory. just putting it out there! just making a bunch of pointed remarks about how he totally gets that ktm can't bridge that gap to ducati in a day, but he sure is interested in seeing how they are intending to make that progress! in itself, that's very much a choice, and it is a choice that's intended to exert public pressure on ktm. I can't remember which one specifically talked about this, but this week's podcasts described the vibes within the ktm camp as not good, a lot of frustration and annoyance at the current performance level. pedro's deciding to publicly make clear he's not willing to just wait around - and he's doing so only halfway through his rookie season. it's his first summer break as a motogp rider and his first priority isn't to rest, it's to make sure everything within the team is up to scratch. he's not even a factory team rider yet! but he's the factory's future and he knows it

also, when ktm says there's not an internal hierarchy and they totally love all their riders. look. all teams lie. ktm never does anything but lie. binder's been the golden boy for years, they gave him that extra long deal, and he still does have some credit in the bank for them to excuse some of the current rough edges. at the end of the day... this is brutal, but it stopped being his team around the time of cota. and as much as ktm value him - by ktm's standards of valuing anyone - he never had quite this pull. pedro's as close as ktm is ever going to get to having a world champion elect and he's not even willing to be patient for a year before taking control of that team. hope he has a fun trip to austria!

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Forgive me, forgive me. I ask, I beg, I pray, but it never comes.

You know I find it incredibly bewildering to see just how much kalki reflects myself in him like YEAH Duh of course he does, he’s my little guy it’s like his full time job. But at the same time he is a fully functional facet of my being and he is at the mercy of my whimsies, and whatever he discovers in his arduous journey of self realisation is ultimately a reflection of what I discover in the real world. It’s also incredibly funny because ffxiv lore for dark knights is really baked into the idea of (re)discovering yourself amongst the bloodshed and continuing to live and love and thrive despite the world working against us. who would have thought such a raw message could come from an mmorpg side quest about edgy emo boys of all places

also adamantite armour of fending i would lay down my LIFE for u

variant + phone bg version + ID below the cut

tch as if you guys are actually going to use artwork of my little guy as your phone background. i know. how dumb. let a girl dream. i should make an alternate version but it's of Fray and Myste

[START ID: A picture with a red background focusing on the character's bust that is placed to the left of the image's centre. He is coloured with a dark blue overlay, contrasting with the red background. He has brown skin, long black hair that falls over his shoulders, and is wearing blue and gold armour and earrings. He is looking at the viewer, right eye dark brown and the left an glowing unnatural red, with an expression that looks determined and angry and yet bitter and forlorn. In the foreground and on the right side of the piece, a miniature version of the character stands coloured in a light blue overlay and wearing the same blue and gold armour, looking as if he is glowing. He is facing towards the left of the piece, or perhaps at the character bust, his expression unreadable. Above the miniature character's head is the symbol representing the FFXIV dark knight, coloured in gold. END ID.]

[front-facing-pokemon]

[buttdumplin]

Of course you want to show off the food of your hometown to the boys, but this really should have been a solo date with Kyle. Still, you manage to sneak some time together.

cw: Gaz x reader, fat latine reader, gn!reader, implied poly 141, established relationship, mexican slang word count: 1845

You throw the car into park and glance up at your rearview mirror. The three white boys smushed into the backseat push at each other to try to take a look through the window, grunts and mumbles escaping them. Kyle chuckles from the passenger seat, watching the commotion unfold.

“Are we sure this was a good idea?” you turn to Kyle, “We could have brought it back to the house for them.”

“No saben igual después de tanto tiempo, y tu bien lo sabes, tesoro,” Kyle responds, an impish smile on his face.

With a groan, you close your eyes and throw your head against the headrest. It’s the first time yall are back in your hometown for more than a week, and with all the extra time to yourselves, the plan was to eat as much good food as possible. One of your tías told you about this place, where they serve al pastor straight from the trompo, each slice almost caramelized to a delicious crunch. They’ve got the pineapple sitting on top, too. She said it was the best quality she’s seen in town to date. Even her husband won’t stop talking about it. And now here you all are, parked against the curb with the air on full blast.

Every time you’ve gone to a mom and pop shop like this, it’s been you and Kyle stepping in first. You go in with kindness and chatter, and the older ladies always helplessly swoon over Kyle. Laughter bubbles and you both eat happily, and sometimes the ladies sneak extras onto your plates. It’s a sacred time full of loud smooches, the staff going “UUUUU’ all around you, a deep blush on Kyle’s face as you wipe at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, his radiant smile set to make your heart burst. It’s perfect. It’s home.

Once you’ve scoped out a place with your own private date, then you bring your white boys over. At that point, you’ve already tried the place, showered Kyle in kisses, and built rapport with the staff. So by the time they step in, the sun drawing eyes to their paleness, the staff won’t try to upcharge you. It’s a genius pull, honestly, one you’ve done yourself with tremendous success. The white folks always have more than enough money to spare, and since they usually don’t know the prices, well that’s on them. But as you sit here in the car, listening to them point out all the little details of the shop to each other, you can’t help but wish you’d left them at home.

Kyle notices the disappointment on your face as you pick at your fingers. Try as you might to keep your face neutral, your expressions are always so easy for him to read. This is the first time your private outings have been interrupted, all because the shop is just a bit too far from the house for the tacos to travel well and your cousin had to fucking say so. He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss, waiting for you to make eye contact with him. There’s a distinct sadness in his eyes, a bittersweetness that’s never appeared on these outings before.

“Next time?” a little bit of hope cracks through his voice.

“Next time,” you swear, noticeably glum.

A thought freezes you before you can undo your belt. You reach for Kyle’s hand again, silly grin on your face, and turn around towards the other boys.

“How do you ask for the price of something?’ you ask them.

Kyle holds back his laughter at the question, squeezing your fingers with excitement. There’s joy on his face again and that’s all it takes for you to know you made the right call.

¿Cuánto cuesta?” they all say as one.

“No,” you say, your splitting with a grin, and Kyle can’t hold in his laugh. “Sorry boys, you’re staying here. Kyle and I will be right back.”

They don’t have the chance to protest or question before you’re bolting out of the car, coming around to open Kyle’s door and pull him from his seat. He lets out another loud laugh, the crinkles around his eyes sending warmth blooming in your chest. You’re both still giggling, if a little out of breath from sprinting inside, when one of the staff steps up to greet you, an older woman who's clearly enjoying the life you’re bringing into the place.

“Hola, mis niños. ¿Es su primera vez aquí? No me acuerdo haberlos visto antes, y a esas caritas las recordaría.”

“Primera vez. Un primo nos dijo de este lugar. Y nomas al verlo, se ve rebueno,” Kyle says, bringing you in closer as you wrap your arm around his waist.

“Una cita con el novio,” you tell her. It’s hard to keep a smile off your face with your sudden success, and it seems to catch in the staff member as well.

As she goes off to put in your order, Kyle helps you pack up some salsa, holding the small containers for you to scoop the goods into. You’re trying to figure out just how many containers you can fit into your hands, Kyle reminding you that you’ll need more guacamole than any salsa, when she returns with a big bag full of much smaller plastic bags of guacamole for you. Before you can even thank her, she’s handing each of you a plate with two smaller tacos, winking at you.

“Si quieren, pueden esperar ahí,” she points towards the door with her eyebrows, where there’s a couple of swings.

Walking over, you eye them a little nervously, worried about the structural integrity. The last thing you need is for it to give out on you, regardless of how nice it might be to reminisce in the seat.

“They’re welded,” Kyle whispers in your ear, “They’re solid.”

Sweet tears brim your lashes as you pull him down to cover his cheek in quick kisses. You can feel his shoulders shake with quiet mirth as he stays in place, accepting as much love as you’re willing to give him. If it were up to him, he’d never move from the spot, not even if his back starts aching or if hunger pangs strike. He’d stay pressed to you until something or someone forced him away. So for now he takes what he can.

“We should eat these before they get cold,” the false concern in your voice clear as you gently rock in the swing.

“Definitely. Wasting them would be disrespectful,” his voice low, pulling at the chain of your swing to bring you close together.

The first bite has you turning to look at each other with wide eyes, a pleasant shock bouncing between you. Words can’t do it justice. Your tía’s husband hyped these tacos up so much that you were a little worried about being disappointed. Turns out he didn’t talk about them enough. All either of you can do is let out groans as you chow down silently, Kyle’s strong arm keeping your swings connected.

“Hijo de su pinche putisima madre,” you say, gulping for breath around the sheer ecstasy of the food.

“Que chingandos fue eso?” he says, soft eyes searching yours as if you have the answer. They say food is sex, but the closest he’s ever come to feeling like this has been with you. What the fuck did they put in this. He leans back to face the woman behind the counter, “Seño, nos puede dar otras dos órdenes más porfa?”

“Ya te las puse, precioso,” she says, stepping towards him with a bulging bag in her hand, “Sabía que iban a necesitar más. El amor hace que te dé más hambre.” Before either of you can get up, she’s shoving another two little tacos into your hands, pressing a finger to her smiling lips.

You take slower bites this time, smiling at each other with cheeks bulging full of food. Now that you know what you’re in for, you’re going to savor every piece. Swings still connected, you nudge Kyle’s foot with the toe of your shoe, pressing your knee more firmly against his. He looks so at peace, his shoulders slightly scrunched as he carefully brings the food to his mouth, his nose crinkled up with delight at each bite he takes. You have the brief thought that maybe you should take a picture of this moment, but you can’t bear to tear your eyes from him. And when he turns, those big brown eyes locked on you, you’re sure you’ll never blink again.

“¿Que piensas, mi vida?” he caught your stare.

“Que te adoro,” you speak the words into his skin, kissing the arm holding your swings together.

“En aceite?”

“Clarín.”

Kyle quickly scans the room, just enough to make sure no one is looking your way, before bending and planting a tender kiss on your lips. His lips taste faintly of salt and fat, just as yours surely do, and you wish you could deepen the kiss, wanting more of the delectable combination. But he pulls away before you can, hunger for you burning in his eyes.

His voice is rough when he speaks again, tongue peeking out in search of the lingering taste of you, “We should get back to them.”

“When we get home?” your voice so breathless you barely recognize it as your own.

Kyle nods and stands, holding the bag of food in front of him, trying to discreetly adjust his pants. You’re both giggling again as he reaches for you, gently helping you up from the swing. Smiles are still stuck in place when you reach the car, slipping into your seats without saying another word.

You pause for a moment, waiting for some kind of commentary from the backseat. Now that you’re back in the car, you can look over and see that the swings are in clear sight of the car. A glance up at the rearview mirror shows you three grinning faces, each one more knowing than the next. They could dog you, tease you, joke about the scene they surely saw. But they don’t. Instead, Simon’s tummy breaks the silence, a loud rumble echoing through the car.

The entire car bursts into peals of laughter, the racket interrupted only long enough to deal out plates and servings. Kyle was right about the guacamole, as the boys pour entire little baggies of it on their tacos. Can’t blame them, honestly. That shit is creamy. And then a corus of moans breaks out in the backseat, first bites hitting hard enough to make the most stoic of them break into delight. You look over at Klye, find him already looking at you, and you both nod enthusiastically, biting into your food.

“We’re coming back,” he says, and then lower, “Just us next time.”

“Fuck yeah we are, that was set in stone the moment the woman greeted us. Gotta show off my boyfriend again,” you wink at him.

[martyrbat]

habeas corpus – detective comics #1086

(ID in alt!)

[spotsupstuff]

aight fine, some quick messy design stuff for the off string Ancient times au

Euros' tits shan't be contained

[femmeroi]

My stinky guys

[pridebicons]

trans bi robstar pride icons

requested by @supermansbisexualson

like/rb if using + credit