moonchild9350 · 2 days ago
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Still Life and Nude Surprises
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Summary: you need to prep for an art show and sign up for a class for extra practice. the model you’re assigned however turns out to be someone you know very well.
Pairing: best friend!Felix x fab!reader
Genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: nude modeling, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mention of overstimulation, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied multiple rounds
Notes: another fic from when I was feral sorry not sorry lol this was fun to write though and it’s Felix so…. lol
If you enjoyed please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡
Divider by @cafekitsune
Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)
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"Hold still!"
You chastised the blonde who was at the moment wiggling around in his seat, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he blasted god knows what on the latest game he acquired.
"Y/n! Lemme just finish this round, then I'll do anything you say," he responded as he showed off his biggest pouty face.
You sighed, not being able to say no to that face. Felix smiled and went back to his game, his fingers tap tapping on the keyboard.
Felix is your best friend, he has been since you were neighbors as a kid. You've done everything together, from attending dances as each others dates, sleepovers as kids, endure heartbreaks, and even live within the same building as adults.
You couldn't live without him, your relationship going beyond your wildest dreams.
Now, you were trying to sketch your best friend as you were trying to improve your still life skills, preparing for an art show that you had signed up for. Everything was going well until he received a text from a gamer buddy, wanting to go for a round on a new game he recently started.
You set your sketch pad down and watched your friend as he scrunched his face in concentration, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he shot down enemy after enemy. It was pretty humorous to watch, as everytime he missed his target he'd scream "noooo!" before concentrating once more.
You knew it was a lost cause, understanding once he started gaming, it would be hours until he would stop. You gathered up your stuff, packing it into your bag.
You got up and walked over to Felix, ruffling up his hair, obscuring his view of the computer screen.
"Y/n!" he exclaimed as he blew his hair out of his face, the strands framing his face haphazardly as a result.
"I'm gonna go home, it's getting late. I"ll see you later ok?"
Felix took a chance and looked away from the screen to you, "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible model."
You chuckled and slapped his arm, the boy yelping at the sting. "No you're not, you just get distracted easily."
You continued to laugh as you walked to his door, listening to Felix mutter under his breath something along the lines of "that's not true."
Closing his door, you walked the few doors down to your apartment, dropping your bag on the hallway table. You really did want to practice your skills as the show was getting closer day by day and you were banking on using Felix to start.
You grabbed your laptop and plopped on the couch, propping your feet on the table in front of you. Opening up the search engine, you began to look for classes that you could attend to help you practice.
You came across a particularly promising site, the company offering a variety of classes from group sessions to private ones. You clicked on the private session info bar, as the prospect of it just being you and the model seemed appealing.
You noticed they offered private nude modeling sessions as well, your eyebrow raising in interest. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the human body and to improve your skills on drawing it.
The company had a few sessions open over the next few days which would be perfect as you were free. You clicked on the time slot for tomorrow's private session, your mind running over the pros and cons.
You've never sketched anyone nude, the prospect seeming a little embarrassing to you, but how would you get better if you didn't step out of your comfort zone? Plus, these models were trained for this, and it was with a reputable company.
The cost of the class wasn't much either, definitely within your budget. You filled in your information, whatever they asked for. Once done, your hand hovered over the book button, as you considered what to do.
"Fuck it," you said, bringing your finger down to press book.
A confirmation page popped up saying your session was successfully booked and they'd see you tomorrow. You let out a breath and closed your laptop.
This was really going to happen. You wondered if you'd have a male or female model, noticing there was no option to choose. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the session until the time came, opting to go in with a fresh and unbiased mind.
You went about the rest of your night, prepping everything you would need for tomorrow. Settling into bed you pulled the covers up to your chin.
You were ready for tomorrow and whatever it were to bring.
--
It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the weather warm but not too hot. The walk to the art studio wasn't too far away, the building being within walking distance.
You were giddy with excitement, your anxieties gone about the details of the session. You texted Felix to let him know you would be occupied today and would be over later on. He didn't mind as he apparently had something to do as well.
You approached a chic building, the outer walls appearing old yet charming to fit the town. You opened the door and walked in, met with the scent only an art studio can provide, from the scents of paints to fresh canvases. The scent of coffee drifted in the air as well, as there was a fresh pot that seemed to have been brewed in the corner of the reception area.
You approached the front desk, greeting the worker behind it.
"Hi, my name is y/n, I'm booked for a private session at 10:30?"
The lady looked in a book on the desk, her manicured fingers running down the page to the appointed time. She tapped her fingers on the page, finding your name as expected.
"We have you all set, would you like to pay now?"
You nodded and pulled out your card. She took care of the payment and then smiled.
"Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly to take you to the studio."
"Thank you," you said, walking towards a comfy looking chair in the corner.
You sat down, cradling your bag to your side. The atmosphere was quiet, the occasional sound of chatter meeting your ears. You watched as people walked to and from, their focus on getting to their destination.
Not long after sitting down, a young woman appeared calling your name. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and walked towards her.
"Ready?" she asked with a smile.
"Absolutely," you responded as you followed the lady down the hall.
She stopped at a door, the placard reading studio eight. It was more secluded than the other studios, the room being near the back of the hall. The lady opened the door and stepped in, you following right behind her.
As you crossed the threshold, you took in the surroundings of the room. It wasn't too small but not too big. The walls were covered with sketches and paintings, portraying various body types. Each painting was beautiful, the artist capturing the details of the human body in intricate detail.
There was a ceiling to floor mirror along one wall, the whole room visible in its reflection. In the center of the room, there was a chair next to a series of boxes, linen draped over it to make a makeshift bed. You eyed the stool next to an easel, which you assumed is where you would be sitting.
"So, this is where your session will take place. You have this space for four hours. If you need assistance of any sort, just press this button here and one of the staff members will assist you."
You followed her hand as she pointed to a blue button next to the door. You nodded and faced the lady again, waiting for her to continue.
"You have opted for a nude model for your session correct?"
"Yes, I have," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush at her question.
"They will enter after I leave. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can ask them to robe again, they will not mind. I think that's all. Any questions?"
You shook your head no, as everything was pretty straight forward.
"Great! Go ahead and get settled, your model will be in shortly!"
You thanked the lady and walked over to the easel. Setting your bag down, you began to pull out your sketch book and various pencils, setting them up accordingly. You sat on the stool, crossing your legs as you waited for your model to arrive.
It didn't take long until a different door than you came in opened, a person stepping in within the room. It was a flurry of movement as they walked into the room with their head down.
"Sorry, I'm a little late," the person said in a deep voice.
Wait...you knew that voice. Shocked, your head snapped up to look more closely at the person. You couldn't believe it, that person was...
"Y/n?!"
"Felix?!"
Your model was Felix? Your best friend? What the fuck?!
You were confused and shocked. Felix seemed to be as well as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.
You eyed your friend who was prepped in a white robe, the material seeming soft and cozy on his skin. His long hair was in a ponytail, framed away from his face, his numerous freckles on display.
"What are you doing here?" you asked in disbelief.
"I could ask you the same thing," Felix responded as he came closer to you.
"I uh...I signed up for a class to work on my skills since you know..." you said, your voice trailing off at the end.
The atmosphere was tense, neither one of you knowing what to do. You never expected to see your best friend here, especially since he never mentioned he modeled for an art studio...nude at that.
Felix nodded at your response, "I work here as a side gig...make some extra cash you know?"
You nodded, accepting his answer.
"Why did you never tell me you did this?" you inquired, curiosity getting the best of you.
Felix fiddled with the strap of his robe, his gaze anywhere but yours. After a moment he cleared his throat.
"Well, I thought you'd find it weird. I mean I'm naked in front of people and they draw me in the nude. How would I bring that up with you?"
He had a point. That would definitely make for an interesting conversation. Now the question becomes do you go on with the session? Sketch your best friend nude? You could make him keep the robe on.
"Do you...do you still want to proceed with this?" Felix asked, his hands gesturing toward the makeshift bed in the center of the room.
"I'm ok if you are," you said shrugging.
Felix cleared his throat, surprised at your answer. Recovering quickly, he said, "Of course."
You nodded and watched as he padded toward the bed, stopping in front of it for a moment. His hands went to the strap of his robe, his fingers fiddling with the knot before he stopped.
"You ok with sketching me nude?"
"Yes Lix, I've seen you naked before."
You really have and with years of being best friends, it was bound to happen.
Felix nodded before he grasped the strap again, this time untying the knot.
You watched as the knot fell away, the straps now dangling at his side. He brought his hands up, to grab the soft material and slide it off his shoulders. With a flurry of movement, he let the robe fall, the fabric pooling at his feet.
You gasped, your eyes glued to your best friend as he stood in the center of the room, his back to you. Taking the chance, your eyes roamed his back, taking in his muscular frame, down to his lithe waist, which you've always admired. You smirked at seeing his ass wanting to reach out and smack it.
Felix took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face you. You watched with bated breath as he now stood facing you, his eyes on yours.
Your eyes drifted down his torso, eyeing his nipples, the pinkish-brown buds perky in the cold room. You eyed him further down, down, down until you came to his pelvis, a happy trail of hair leading down to his cock.
You subconsciously licked your lips, your eyes glued to his soft cock lying amongst a smattering of hair, his balls hanging nice and delicate. You couldn't help but admire his cock, wondering how it would feel in your hands, how it would feel...
"Earth to y/n! My eyes are up here pervert!" Felix exclaimed while snapping his fingers to get your attention.
You snapped your eyes up to his face, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You definitely were just checking out your best friend, the feeling in your panties a little more wet than when you came in.
You cleared your throat and gestured toward the bed, "Umm, wanna get started?"
Felix nodded, "How do you want me?"
"You can just lounge on the bed for now."
Felix nodded again and sat on the bed, swinging his legs up to rest on the linens. You walked over to your best friend and stopped in front of him, your hands reached out. You hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes asking silent permission to touch him.
"Go ahead, position me how you want," Felix chuckled.
You took his hand in yours and draped it across his face, his fingers dangling delicately on the side of his cheeks. You angled his head to look toward where you would be sitting. You looked at his legs, taking a breath before propping one of his legs up.
Once finished, you quickly took a step back, eyeing your work. Satisfied, you sat down on your stool and grabbed your sketch book.
You picked up a pencil and began to sketch, easily getting lost in your work. You looked up at Felix every now and then, to get some details solidified in your head before you translated it onto paper.
It was silent in the room, neither one of you speaking. It was not as awkward as you thought it would be, but rather comforting.
Time passed and you got more of your sketch done, the outline being nearly complete.
Felix was staring at you, watching your hands dance across the page, sketching his frame. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, admiring how you got lost in your work, that not even your best friend posing naked for you can distract you.
He loved how you let out a small smile when you got a detail just right or how you scrunched up your face and bit your lip when something did not seem right.
You were beautiful, that he couldn't deny and you were even more beautiful in this moment, sitting on a stool in an art studio underneath the dim lights.
Felix started to feel warm, despite laying right under the air conditioner, the feeling spreading down his belly and settling at his cock. He could feel the blood slowly fill out his cock, the appendage slightly harder than before, laying haphazardly against his pelvis.
He willed himself to breath, to cool down, not wanting you to see the effect you have on him. He could never live that down. He tried to look everywhere but your face, especially when your head was down. But to no avail, the feeling increased, his cock twitching slightly in response.
You looked up at your friend to get another look at his torso for shading the area on your sketch, but froze at what you saw. Felix seemed to be in turmoil, his breath shaky, his eyes darting everywhere around the room.
Your eyes traveled to his cock, noticing how it seemed to have hardened some since you last took a look at him. You thought you would feel embarrassed, however, you felt quite the opposite.
You lingered on his cock a little longer, a a pleasurable shock traveling down your body and straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together in response, feeling your slick slowly seep into your panties.
You cleared your throat and went back to your sketch, not wanting Felix to catch you staring, not let him know that you were aware he was hard while you sketched him.
Felix was turned on, that was the brunt of it. He tried to stop his reaction to you, but he just couldn't do it. He felt his cock hardened until it stood fully at attention, the tip pressing up against his pelvis.
It was torture laying there, only a few feet away from you, his cock so hard it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the ache, and maybe just maybe you could help him out too.
He watched as you lifted your head up once more, gasping at the state of him.
You were in shock, noticing now that Felix's cock was fully hard, the member seeming angry and red at the lack of attention it received. You could see something shiny glistening on the hairs littering his pelvis. You watched as a drop of pre-cum oozed from his tip, the liquid dripping down his shaft until it reached the hairs, getting caught in the thickness.
Looking at Felix's face, you could tell he was miserable, as he breathing was shallow and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. You knew he wanted to touch himself to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling.
"Felix?" you questioned, your eyes reaching his. "Do you wanna touch yourself?"
Felix's eyes widened at the question, disbelief written on his face.
"I'm..I'm sorry y/n, I just couldn't help it," he stuttered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.
"It's ok," you responded with a smile. "You can touch yourself, make yourself feel good. I'll continue to sketch."
Felix stared at you for a moment more before he took his other hand that was at his side and placed it on his chest.
You watched as he gripped his aching cock and gave it a squeeze as he moaned lowly. He shifted his hand upwards, his thumb pressing on his slit before gathering up some of the leaking pre-cum.
He began to stroke his cock, steady but slowly, his fist reaching the base just to travel back up and circle around the head. Felix kept eye contact with you, your sketching forgotten, as you took to watching your best friend pleasure himself.
He increased the speed of his wrist movement, wet sounds from the aid of his precum filling the room. With each moan he let out, you felt your pussy clench over nothing. You were soaking wet, your panties stuck to your skin by now, your clit throbbing to be touched.
"Y/n," Felix said, his voice raspy as he continued to stroke his cock. "Can you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself for me?"
You looked into Felix's pleading eyes, watching as he licked his lips and swallowed. You didn't give a moments thought at your friend's request, instead ridding yourself of your leggings.
You stood before Felix, your fingers going to the band of your panties. You watched Felix's eyes drag to the piece of cloth, his eyes widening at the wet patch present on your panties, the material sticking to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as the outline of your lips could be seen.
You slowly slid your panties down your legs and set them aside. Felix let out a groan at the sight of your pussy, his cock twitching in his hand.
You sat back down on the stool and spread your legs, your wet folds separating to show him your entrance. He kept his eyes glued to your pussy as you brought a finger to your clit, flicking the bud and the rubbing it gently.
You sighed out as you dipped a finger lower into your hole, gathering your slick that was pooling there before bringing it back to your clit. You circled it gently, applying the slightest pressure, a jolt of pleasure causing your pussy to clench.
Time passed as you both sat there, eyes on each other as you pleasured yourself, the room filled with wet sounds and the mix of both of your moans.
You matched Felix's pace as he stroked his cock, harder and faster, his hips bucking up into his hands. You let out a whimper as you felt the tightening within your belly, the coil tightening, filling your core with warmth.
"Felix, m'close," you moaned as your fingers slipped and slid around your clit, your pussy getting wetter by the minute.
"Yeah? Cum for me? Will you cum for me like a good girl?" Felix cooed. "I'm close too, fuck."
Your breathing increased as the coil expanded in your belly, the feeling getting larger and larger until you tipped over the edge, your walls spasming, clenching down rhythmically as you rode out your high.
You didn't stop rubbing your clit, watching as Felix let out a groan as he bucked his hips, spurts of cum landing on his belly creating a painting with its pearly white sheen.
You pulled your hand away, the feeling of overstimulation settling in. You looked at your best friend, both of you breathing hard as you came down from your highs.
You chuckled as you noticed Felix was pretty much in the same position you put him in, his resolve at staying true to his role admirable.
"You um...you can keep sketching if you'd like," Felix said, his voice soft with uncertainty.
"We literally just got off together and you want me to continue sketching?" you asked incredulously as you cocked your eyebrow.
Felix cleared his throat, his body slighly shifting on the makeshift bed causing his softened cock to jiggle.
"Well...yeah, you paid and all..."
You stared at your best friend in disbelief. You hated that he had a point, you did pay a pretty sum to be here today. But here you were, nude from the waist down, your nether region a mess. You sighed and picked up your pencil, moving your hand to start sketching again.
There was silence once more as you got into the zone, focusing on shading in your sketch. You began to hum to yourself, adjusting yourself sligthly on the stool.
Felix returned to staring at you, watching you get lost in your work. He tried not to remember that you were naked waist down, your pussy seconds away from being on display if you decided to open your legs.
The thought caused arousal to seep through his body once more. He cursed silently as he felt his cock twitch. Why does he have to be turned on by you? He's never had this reaction before for any other client.
Maybe it was because they were strangers, people he didn't know, while you were his best friend, his life line.
He couldn't help it as his thoughts wandered, wondering how you would feel wrapped around him. He wondered how you would sound as he pounded into you, making you feel better than any of your little flings ever could.
He peeked down to look at his lower half as he silently groaned noticing his cock was fully hardened, resting against his belly once more.
You looked up to gather reference and noticed Felix's cock was hard, more of his precum leaking out and onto his belly. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight as your tongue darted out and licked your lips.
"Fuck this," you said, tossing your sketch book to the side.
You stood up and walked towards Felix, lifting your shirt up and over your head in the process. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, your tits spilling out and on view for your friend.
Felix scrambled up quickly and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him until you stood right in front of his face. He grasped your waist and smashed his lips to yours, letting out a moan as your lips moved with his.
Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, giving it a squeeze. Felix moaned against your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.
"Can I fuck you y/n?" Felix asked with hope in his eyes.
You've both come this far, why stop now you thought.
"Sure," you agreed as more arousal gushed out of your pussy and onto your thighs at the thought of his cock filling you up.
Felix helped maneuver you onto the makeshift bed as he hovered above you. He spread your legs and pushed them upwards, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy, your slick coating your folds and dripping down your ass.
He brought his thumb down to press against your swollen clit that was peeking through your folds. You let out a whine at the sensation, your pussy clenching around nothing.
"I've waited for this moment for a long time y/n," Felix said, his eyes lifting up to your face.
"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling at the thought that you both have liked each other probably for years.
He really was your person, your everything, and you would love nothing more than to give yourself fully to him.
Felix smiled down at you before swiping his finger over your clit again, watching as you wiggled your hips at his touch.
"I'm gonna give you my cock now," he grunted, grasping the appendage at the base.
He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick before pressing against your entrance, his eyes glued to how his head disappeared within your hole.
You mewled as he withdrew his cock just to press into your entrance again as he fucked you with just the tip.
"Felix, please," you whimpered, holding your legs open even more.
"Want my cock hm?" Felix asked, his eyes on yours. He watched as your mouth hung open, soft moans falling out as he teased you, spreading your folds open with just his head.
He was faring no better as he felt a shutter run through him, every time he sunk his tip within your warmth.
"Fuck me," you commanded, your eyes snapping open and staring Felix down.
You reached for his cock, your hand wrapping around the shaft. You wiggled your hips attempting to take more of his cock, ignoring how Felix was laughing at you.
"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," Felix chuckled. "Oh wait, you lost those hours ago, so desperate for my cock y/n."
Without any other warning, he slammed his hips into yours with a groan, sinking his length within your walls until bottomed out.
"Fuck, so warm and tight," he grunted as he began to thrust his hips into yours, withdrawing his cock just until he was all the way out and pushing back in.
You pussy clenched around him, the feeling of his cock stretching you out causing waves of pleasure to settle in your pelvis.
Felix grasped your legs, pushing them further to your chest as he pummeled his hips to yours, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He couldn't believe how tight you were, how your walls molded around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him.
His moans mingled with yours, as you both chased your highs. Felix licked his fingers and brought them back down to your clit, the digits slipping and sliding along the nub, causing shocks of pleasure to wreck your frame.
"Shit, I'm close, gonna cum. Can I come inside?" Felix panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic.
"Please, need your cum!" you whimpered as your pussy contracted at the thought of his cum within you.
Felix slammed his hips into yours once more before stilling, ropes of his cum flooding your walls.
"That's it, take my cum," Felix cooed as he continued to finger your clit.
You let out a loud moan as you came, your arousal seeping out of your pussy, coating Felix's cock as he thrusted his hips into yours a few more times to help you ride out your high.
Felix peered down at you, his eyes searching yours as you panted, your hands running down your body. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, his eyes glued to how his cum leaked out of your pussy, a smile gracing his face.
He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips once more as he whispered "I love you."
You carded your fingers through his hair, eagerly returning the kiss.
"And I love you Felix," you cooed.
You both laid there a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, neither one of you in a rush to move.
After a while, Felix perked up, mischief in his eyes.
"Wanna keep sketching? You still have another hour."
You smirked at the suggestion, knowing exactly where it will lead, and that was definitely ok with you.
"Sure thing, let's go for another round," you teased with a grin.
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Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght
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wroteclassicaly · 16 hours ago
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Like A Wildflower
Gator Tillman x Plus size!female reader
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Summary: Unpredictable things, they tend to fall apart…
Wordcount: 1,821
Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, hurt/no comfort, anxiety, mentions panic, self-esteem issues, insecurities/body insecurities, Gator is a bit of an ass, and a secret relationship.
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A/N: Sooooo, this is pretty self-indulgent. It’s a lot different than some things I’ve written. I wanted to try a different perspective/one of my opinions on how Gator would be in a relationship like this. Obvs. I cannon him loving bigger girlies (even when my self-esteem says no sometimes), but I wanted to explore one of the very accurate ways he could react to the situation. I was mega inspired tonight, what can I say?
This fic was intense, and I had two songs I used to inspire me whilst writing this. One of them is Wildflower by Billie Eilish. Which… I know the lyrics aren’t at all aligned with this situation (I know the song’s meaning), but I just love it so much and it resonated with me for this story in some different way. Let me know if you’re interested in part 2 (that would be partially from Gator’s POV)? One last thing, I hope those who read enjoy this, that it makes sense, you know?
The girlies who know, they know. Right? ❤️ It brought me a lot of comfort and self-strength, and I nearly cried writing it, so I guess that’s something? Anyways, if you got through this long ass author’s note - Gator loves you and so do I! Enjoy! - Kristen 💐
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Gripping the leather above him, it crunches beneath your fingertips - indents, perspired palm print left behind. His dark hair is uncoiled, strewn about his side shaved head. You give it a grip in your spare, his neck rolling with your guided motion, tendons made to stand out, jugular constricting around a vice inhalation. You feel the panting hot breath hit your cheek before his nose nudges your ear.
“Holy Christ,” he stammers.
You hear the sounds of his boots arching by a crunched, worn heel, helping him bounce them, pushing his muscular thighs into a guiding assistance. His massive paws find your overflowing waist, squeezing. And with teeth clenched, Gator Tillman unravels, scatters into your airspace. With darting eyes left towards the ceiling, you’re pulling back just enough to see his tongue slick across those pearly white teeth. His mouth is smeared red, marked clean with your lipstick.
Making a map is what you find yourself doing next, digging into the tense muscles at his nape, only to push his jacket off his shoulder, bending to nose your way into his t-shirt. He bucks in between your legs the moment your lips find that constellation spattered skin, damp from a day’s musk and fading cologne spices. So warm… So Gator…
His head slams into the rest, fingers digging painfully into the bunched dress around your waist. A gone, honey soaked rasp. “Shiiit,” he’s whining. “you’re so fuckin’ slick, baby… never felt you this ready for me.”
You can’t stop your body’s automatic reaction to the first time nickname usage. You tighten around him, his massive girth nudging on that spot now, tickling electricity zaps into your stomach. Your eyes clenched closed, hips giving a particularly rhythmic roll over this man’s lap, that it has you seeing literal spots in your vision. An ache, a fucking burn that sizzles all the way down to your toes and curls them into your boots. It hurts, god does it hurt so badly that it’s hard to breathe.
You’re already starting to pick up your pace, body leading first and foremost. The lace cups of your bra become pushed beneath your breast, dragging over his t-shirt clad chest by rough movements, his hands trembling against your waist as you ride him for all he’s worth into his own driver’s seat - one hand still where it was mid-way. He keeps trying to lean in, to abide the kisses you usually chase but rarely get, his mouth left in ungodly puckers. He’s biting at mid-air, high-tailing your lips. However, you aren’t giving in, unable.
His truck is rocking with each motion, wind sweeping russet colored leaves, soaked with rain across the windshield from the tree above. You start to become shaky, falter, emotions briefly winding around the coil inside your stomach, keeping it hostage. Tears brim your sclera, sticky, soaking into your lash line as you realize you won’t be able to come too, sharing it. Of course this would be hard, how could it not be? Maybe it isn’t going to be for him, but for you..
His trim hips are stuttering beneath you, hairy thighs slamming to meet your efforts, making this so real that you can hear everything morphed inside, taste how your blood is rushing, despite it not making any sense. You’re on fire, doused in heated flames that you won’t be escaping from. One of Gator’s arms stretches the length up your back, cupping your neck, bringing you away from his shoulder that you’ve again found, to make contact with you. Shrugging it off, you don’t even look at him, eyes staying closed.
He is unsatisfied with this, uses a strong forearm to sling beneath your tailbone, hoisting you higher, making your mouth fall open enough for him to kiss his way into. Fuck it. Wet, hot, his tongue works its way into your mouth and then you’re gasping, working with him together, foreheads smashed, breaths panting around parted lips, sought between each kiss. On a particular break off, he cradles your head in his massive palm, amber eyes blown into shards, flecks of cinnamon scattered apart from that only black abyss. He’s damn near snarling, a dip in his brows, an expectant struggle.
You cry out into the vehicle when he finds what he was hunting, his crooked smirk, tongue dipping into that corner of his mouth to go with it. He grumbles into a deeper tone. “Yeah? That’s what I was fuckin’ lookin’ for.”
Saying his name, it doesn’t come out. So he keeps on going. “M’ just gonna stay right here, baby. You keep goin’. Finish us off.”
You give it your all, knowing what he likes, what will give him what he seeks. This is it… You continue your own lead instead of following his, purposely leveling yourself off that spot. His brows knot together, bushy and confused. But he doesn’t have time.
He’s fading, and going out fast for you. Gator reaches, clings, tries to take your hand, see your face as he feels you wrap around him to the point that it all drawls and reaches into his abdomen, attempting to burst through. You hide into jawline the moment that he cries out broken chants of your name, rejecting his reaching for you. He comes moments later, regardless. Tremors settle into his worn bones, muscles sated with vibrations of his release.
You resist every urge to hold him through it, shifting your hold off the seat, off him, turning yourself around to settle into the passenger seat. Your chest is heaving heavily as you push your breasts into their cups, tugging your blouse back down, lifting enough to gather your panties off the floorboard and raise your heavy, boot clad feet into the legs. He’s staring, you don’t have to check your peripheral to know this. A wounded, baffled mix of emotions cloud his face. Suddenly, Gator feels more vulnerable with you in this very moment, than he’s ever remembered feeling in his whole life.
Your knuckles scratch across the silk of your knee sock thigh highs, bringing your underwear completely up, sealing the evidence of him with you. The skirt you wear is the last thing to be readjusted. It’s silent in the cab, with the exception of rainfall, uneven breathing patterns. There is only light from street posts, houses down the pathway of the road you’re parked on. You miss every hint he throws, every single hurt, wounded look that molds his features into a haunting sight.
His belt buckle clanging as he brings it back together, along with the defeating sound of his zipper, that’s what has you glancing in his direction. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, arm propped on the driver’s window, knuckles of that hand tight. His spare is wound around the wheel, eyes haunted, unfocused as they look ahead to meet damp, black pavement. Of all the things you expect him to say, it isn’t what leaves his mouth next. Wobbly and unsure.
“I’ll make ya come next time, I promise. I got so caught up, I —“
It sounds so pathetic that you have to break it off. Deserved reservations.
“This was the last time.” Fucking Christ, it feels as if someone cracks open the bottom of your ribcage and your organs are spilling out. It’s too hard to breathe, your own cowardice showing as you finish the reveal of your sentence, of what you’ve known you had to do for yourself to keep from developing a hate for him, and all the self-berating this relationship has caused you inside. “I’m seeing someone next weekend.”
At first, you think reality has settled in on him. But then he snorts, a sound that goes right through you. He’s in disbelief, which proves that this was the right decision all along. It’s when you aren’t laughing that he gets the hint. And this time, you don’t look away. Let it all go…
“I know that you make fun of me behind my back. To your friends, to your dad when he asks why you’re with me so much, to the other women you flirt with around town. It’s how you justify doing this.”
There’s a pure amount of shame that coats his cheeks and it makes you laugh bitterly, stinging your mouth. You reach to collect your purse from beside your feet. Gator is ashamed, worked up, so overstimulated and caught that he barely is able to grab your arm as you push his door open and one leg hits the asphalt. His mouth moves as if he’s communicating some silent, pleading apology. Begging you to understand.
And you have always understood. More than you should ever have to. He’s like a deer in headlights, panicked, jaw twitching, nose scrunching. At least it affects him some, he’s not emotionless to this situation. It leaves you very little comfort, though.
His silence is one with his learned cowardice. He knows what’s right, but he’ll never cater to anything that set aside this image he’s tried to build for everyone (including Roy) to see. Instead, he’s losing the one person that’s taken everything she has in her to give - offering. A wounded animal in the driver’s seat, waiting on you to lead, to accept what little he’s willing to give. Your heart skips, launching into your throat, damp and slippery words pressing your lip’s seam apart.
“You know, I really do care about you, Gator. And I hope you find your way away from your dad and all of this bullshit.” Your voice is jagged, dragging over each word as you motion your hand around, before continuing. “But I don’t deserve this.”
You don’t any more of his silence, climbing completely out and slamming your door, prepared to walk away with remaining dignity. Gator Tillman, he has one final pulsing drive that propels him into following suit, calling at you from the opposite side of his car. “No, please?”
You tilt your head towards the sky, rain flowing feeling from murky night skies, glittering across your face, painting itself into your brows. Gator’s hands find the truck’s roof, his messy hair shining underneath the half-hidden moon, the lights lining the roadway. His breath is puffing his chest into a theatrical exertion. And you two just stare at one another across the hood of the tan GMC cab. His bridge ruffles, nose wiggling to adjust his emotions.
To his credit, he tries. But both of you know that it’s not going to be enough this time. “I do care.”
An automatic rebuff. You sink in on yourself, retorting. “In the dark, right?”
You leave him with this, his sucker punched expression, not there to see anything more, and begin to walk in the direction you came from, back towards town. By the time the rain picks up, you’re crying and a horn is blaring behind you, coming from his parked truck.
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arielchelby · 2 days ago
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The Last Unicorn
A Jonerys Remix
My submission for the prompt: Dragon Dreams for Day 1 of Falling for you 2024 hosted by @iceandfirejonerysdiscord 💖
This is one of my favorite movies/books of all time (even though it makes me terribly sad) and I would love to write a full fic for this one day... but for now, here's a snippet below the cut!
Jon took the stairs up to his chamber with his small stack of finished poems. He’d not thought to write a poem a day in his life until the Lady Daenerys arrived at the castle. His heart had been sore since the day he laid his eyes on her, but no great feat nor knightly quest had caused her to return his affections. It was a relief, he told himself, to be resigned to the thought she never would. He would love and serve her from afar like a knight in a tale.  To start, he’d leave one of his poems beneath her chamber door.  He was puzzling over what name he might sign it with when she ran into his path.  She looked a fright, rushing down the stairs barefooted in a dress robe. Sorrow coursed through his veins at the sight of her. “Are you all right, my lady?”  Lady Daenerys drew back and held out a hand to keep him at a distance. “Who are you?”  Jon looked into her eyes and found them blank. “I’m Jon. Don’t you know me?”  “The old woman,” she said with a shudder. “She keeps them in cages and they see what she wants them to see. Poor beasts.”  “You are dreaming, my lady.” He’d been told the castle made some prone to nightmares. “You’re safe here with me.”  Whimpering, she lowered herself to sit on the stair, and he sat two steps below her. She looked so fragile, and yet he knew she had untold power; her empty hands and bare feet were more dangerous to him than any sword or arrow. Her hair glowed in the dim light like a flower. A moon flower.  He swallowed. “Tell me your dream that I might help you.”  “I dream the same every night and every day but it’s never finished. I’m always running. Running from a safe place, running from danger, running to find something,” she recounted, and the pitch of her voice grew as she went on. “But I don’t know what I’m searching for! And when I look down I have the legs of a beast!”  Jon hushed her gently. “I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s too upsetting to recount now.”  The lady nodded, and looked at the wall as though it was a window through which she could watch the sea below.  “I’m yours,” Jon confessed to his own surprise. “In whatever capacity you’ll have me.”  Daenerys offered another small smile. “I know.”  Emboldened, his heart sped to life. “What would you have me do? Win a tourney, scale a mountain, slay a monster, defeat an army? I am your servant. There’s been a nagging feeling in my chest since the day you arrived and it’s driving me mad to do nothing.” His face grew hot. “Gods, I talk more in your presence than I ever have.”  Her smile grew bigger. “Sing. Sing for me, and help chase this cold gloom from my heart. Sing until I no longer see the crashing waves nor hear the red bull.”  Were it anytime before the day Lady Daenerys arrived at this lonely castle, a request for a song would send him in the other direction. A request from her and he was singing Wolf in the Night without another thought.  No one had ever offered him praise for his singing voice, but no one had disparaged him either. He sang as his lady commanded with a clear voice to ward off her despair, and chase away her lingering dreams. “And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolves, and the wind itself was their song.”  She laughed sweetly when he was done, one of the few times he’d heard the sound since they first met and the darkness in the tower drew back in defeat. “Thank you,” she said. “That was a comfort to me.”  He breathed a sigh of relief for having been useful. “I don’t know why I picked that song,” he offered, suddenly embarrassed. “I’ve learned it from my father’s men.”  When she smiled again, he cautiously rested his hand on the step just below her. “I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there,” he put forward, “but I cannot come in unless you dream of me.”  Lady Daenerys sighed. “Would that I had such control of my dreams – but then it might be you who needs guarding.”
Ice & Fire Jonerys Discord
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sinisterexaggerator · 1 year ago
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I haven't asked you some Jango stuff yet and idk why. But I know you can do him so good because of the many plots/thots/thoughts we've talked about everywhere, so if you can...
Say Jango and Bane got into a real nasty argument which included guns be pointed at each other but ended up walking away to cool off. Who makes the first move? And how will it pan out?
Warning: NSFW. Smut talk.
Oh, good question. This requires me explaining their dynamic a bit as far as ideas for my fic.
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Jango would be Bane’s mentor as was canon. Nothing else is known about them working together or even associating with each other except at some point Bane says “he owed Jango a few favors” regarding Boba, and Hondo mentions in “Secrets of the Bounty Hunters” that he had many adventures with Jango Fett and Cad Bane, among others.
Thinking about their place on the GFFA timeline, they most likely interacted BEFORE Jango created his clone army, and even sometime afterward before the Clone Wars as it was mentioned Boba KNEW who Cad Bane was and desired to work with him on a job in the comics.
To that end, both were near the same age, though if my calculations are correct, Jango is older. Considering how hotheaded Cad Bane is, I assume that in his youth he was even worse.
I see Bane picking fights after one too many drinks, letting the insults fly, and drawing his weapon for no reason other than to intimidate someone. I see others coaxing him to stand down, either verbally or by force, or perhaps Jango has a secret weapon or two up his sleeve that is noted to work nearly every time.
I imagine Bane to be a bit of a brat in this era. Hard to train, hard to control, but also capable of holding his own. Jango saw potential. It may have been he took him under his wing once they worked together, or perhaps they were in direct competition with one another and Fett decided that instead of being enemies, he wanted a partner, or an equal, as what he saw in Bane was the equivalent of the “mentee” being able to one day surpass the “master.”
At this point, Jango didn’t have a son. We know he has that gene, the one that desperately needs and wants to be a father, apparently. He may have used this drive to mentor Cad, but of course there are definitely times they do not get along.
For one thing, I don’t see it working out in the end between them, one of the MANY REASONS BEING THEY ARE TOO MUCH ALIKE.
Both are sort of stoic by nature, have a hot temper, will do anything the job takes, and have few scruples when it comes to what they will or will not do for credits. We might say Jango is more driven by his hatred for the Jedi, but as a Jedi hunter, Bane has inherited some of this disdain.
Anyway, I digress. The point is they are both stubborn. They both rarely talk about their feelings. They both march to the beat of their own drum, and they both are excellent at what they do.
My interpretation of their relationship would dictate Jango being the one to make the first move after having a terrible argument. Maybe Bane wasn’t sure Jango wouldn’t shoot him, and that made him feel things. I’m writing him as being a bit sensitive overall, but also so obstinate he would sulk and keep his head down after being scolded well enough that he decides to mope off by his lonesome. Of course, this is outwardly expressed as anger though deep down he is hurt.
His person yelled at him. Not only that, Jango at this point in time, is a better bounty hunter than Bane, although one day he may surpass him as I mentioned, and technically he does as he goes up against many Jedi and doesn’t get his head cut off. ;D But, in this instance, he may very well be cautious of him. I wouldn’t say afraid, though there are times he feels fear in the moment, but he also holds a kind of love in his heart for the “old man” though it may never be expressed verbally and instead shown through actions.
I imagine Jango would sit alone, contemplate, and sigh. After some time has passed and he’s cooled off, he would go to Bane knowing the boy rather die than come crawling back. Bane would make it a point to avoid him or stay out of his way until he made it clear he wanted to speak to him again, or make up. In the end, Bane didn’t want to fight him. He wanted them to reconcile as much as Jango did.
I see Jango taking the lead, maybe stroking the side of his face with the back of his hand. Maybe he tips his hat up by the edge to better see his eyes. Bane would stay solemn and wait.
“Cad. Look at me.”
And he would. When in the mood, Bane would do anything that Jango asked of him. This is after he’s attached and before their falling out ( >D ).
Maybe Bane nuzzles his cheek into the man’s hand, or shows some other sort of affection once Jango shows him it's all right, either by a look, or by lifting his chin up or some other small gesture. I assume his eyes are full of apprehension and he remains on guard just in case.
Jango says a few words about how he was wrong, or that he’s sorry he got carried away. Bane believes him, though this may have happened many, many times. He’s receptive to whatever Jango offers him – a kiss, a stroke to his wrist, a pat on the belly, or sharing a drink. In the end they probably fuck nasty to make up, and Bane’s the catcher while biting into the pillow at Fett’s mercy. That, or he rides him while Jango watches the way his fangs gnaw into his lip, or the way he stares ruthlessly into his eyes without once breaking eye contact.
“That’s a good boy, you do know how to listen. If only you were always so well behaved.”
Bane definitely bites back what he wants to say as he’s too busy trying not to cum, drunk off Jango’s dick as he drives it home doggy style nice and slow, let's say.
If he did manage a word or two it’s probably: “Fuck off, Fett.”
Most likely Jango just smiles, not bothering to address him any further. He's content to watch, or to run his hand down the length of Bane's back and the curve of his waist as he brings him to a peak.
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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months ago
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bftc jaytim fuck nasty in their batman suits🩷
CORRECT THEY DO. it's like you live in my brain, anon. and for that, you get a full fic bc i've wanted to write this anyway and you gave me an excuse to. have 6k words worth of dirtybadwrong JayTim. rough sex, blood play, pain play, degradation, consensual but not safe or sane, dead dove vibes so be warned. but also enjoy bc ily for this thought anon 🩷
“You look ridiculous in that get-up. Like a kid out for trick-or-treats.” The words were just as brutal as the fight was. Jason had the bodyweight and training to easily pin Tim, now that he was done toying around. 
Of course, toying around for Jason Todd looked like bloody slashes across Tim’s back, base of his skull, and his forehead. Picking one of Bruce’s older suits may have been a bad idea on Tim’s part. The armor was thinner and easier for Jason to slash through with a batarang in a clenched fist. 
Tim had managed to knock the batarang out of Jason’s hand, but that also seemed like a bad idea now, with Jason on top of Tim. His fists were even more brutal, blunt weapons and he’d reinforced the gloves to make his punches hit harder across Tim’s face. 
There was blood pouring from Tim’s nose and mouth. With all the pain flaring across his body, it was hard for him to get a good read on if anything was broken or not. 
All he knew was it hurt. His head spun from slamming against the concrete. It was hard for Tim to blink his eyes into focus. And when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Jason was leaning in so close, his mask was all Tim could see. Tim dizzily wondered how the glowing eyes didn’t impede Jason’s vision. 
“Look at me,” Jason demanded. His voice was robotic behind the thick metal mouthpiece. One of his fists pulled back for another punch. “Do you see terror? Do you see fear? Or is it just your own reflection?”
By some miracle, Tim managed to catch the punch before it connected with his face. The muscles in his wrist and forearm screamed at the animalistic strength Jason pushed back with, inching his fist closer and closer to connecting. If it did manage to connect, Tim knew his own hand in the way wouldn’t do much to soften the blow. If anything, Jason would shatter Tim’s knuckles against his own nose.
Not a pretty thought.
“That mad I said no to being your Robin?” Tim wheezed. It was hard to get air in his lungs, with Jason perched on his chest, putting all his weight on Tim’s midsection. 
Jason scoffed with cruel amusement. “You’re a second choice, Drake. It doesn’t matter to me if you say no, I can always ask the original. He’d at least put up a better fight than you’re managing.”
Tim couldn’t argue that. He thought he’d have some kind of chance in a fight against Jason, but it was a losing game to confront Jason on his turf, in a suit Tim wasn’t comfortable in. He was too stupid to even bring his bo staff.
A great Batman he was turning out to be.
With bloody teeth, Tim smiled. “You’re right. Is that why I’m your reflection, Jason? Two second rate Robins who will never be the original?” He managed a laugh against protesting ribs. “For what it’s worth, I still think I’m better than you. Least I didn’t die.”
He couldn’t see the look on Jason’s face, but he didn’t need to. The feral yell that came out of Jason spoke for itself at how well Tim got under his skin. Jason’s other fist came barreling toward Tim’s face, but he managed to move his head out of the way, making it only connect with the ground. Jason’s punch was hard enough to make the concrete crack.
Even with the reinforced gloves, that had to hurt. Maybe a couple cracked bones, if Tim was lucky. Jason couldn’t hit as hard if he injured himself. 
That was a solid plan. If he’d actually planned it in the first place. 
“Can’t believe I ever liked you, Drake,” Jason snarled, pulling his hand free from the concrete. He flexed his fingers just a bit too slow. He definitely hurt himself, even if he was trying to hide it. Jason went for his utility belt, grabbing another batarang. 
“Flattering,” Tim deadpanned. He tried to elbow Jason in the neck, but Jason easily twisted away from the blow. 
“I really did you know,” Jason said. Maybe it was the mask, but Tim could’ve sworn Jason’s tone changed slightly. “If Bruce hadn’t corrupted you, you really could’ve been something.”
Tim ignored the comment about Bruce. Bruce’s death was too raw for Tim to be able to look at his grief about it head-on. “Can’t say the feeling was mutual,” Tim grunted. He tried to slash his glove fins across Jason’s face. But Jason was smarter. He had a more durable suit that made the blow easily glance off. 
Damn Tim for picking this suit. He idealized Bruce’s image too much and forwent practicality. He was paying for it now. A new suit would’ve had proper weapons worked into the wrists for Tim to easily flick out. 
“I don’t know about that,” Jason mocked with a cold laugh. “Remind me again Drake, who broke me out of prison?”
He had a point. 
“Real great job you’ve done repaying that kindness,” Tim muttered. He avoided addressing it directly. He didn’t owe Jason his reasons. Especially not with how they’d all blown up in his face. 
“I never needed your kindness,” Jason growled. He wrapped a hand around Tim’s throat and pressed down just enough to make it uncomfortable for Tim to breathe. “That’s what all you Bats could never get through your skulls. I didn’t need to be Bruce’s pity project, and I definitely didn’t need to be yours.”
“Trust me,” Tim fought to get the words out, trying to worm his fingers under Jason’s grip. “You don’t have my pity.”
“What do I have, then?”
“My contempt.” The more Tim struggled, the tighter Jason’s grip got. The sharp points of his claws were starting to dig into Tim’s skin and draw blood. Blood flow was cut off from Tim’s brain and he fought to keep hold of his consciousness. 
“Liar,” Jason hissed. “No one else is here, Tim. You don’t have to pretend and hide things from me I already know.”
Maybe passing out would be a good thing. Then, Tim would have a convenient reason for not answering Jason. A reason to not face the truth Jason wanted him to bare.
Tim knew that Jason probably knew. The way they’d looked at each other through the prison safety glass when Jason was locked up had a thousand unspoken words in just a shared smile. A promise, that maybe, if Jason cleaned himself up with this second chance, there could be something between them.
But Jason didn’t clean up. He flung himself in the opposite direction, if anything. A growing body count and an ugly reign of terror that was Tim’s job to stop.
He started this. He put misplaced faith in Jason. Tim’s bad judgment jeopardized Gotham. 
And now Jason wanted the unspoken part said out loud. Something a part of Tim would rather die than admit after all this. They both already knew. Making Tim say it was just an obvious attempt to humiliate him and Tim refused to sink to Jason’s level.
All this over a stupid crush. 
“Fine,” Jason continued when Tim didn’t say anything. “I’ll say it for you. You loved me.”
Tim made a face and twisted, finally forcing Jason’s hand free from his neck with a hard strike to his inner elbow. “It wasn’t love,” he insisted through grit teeth.
“What was it then?”
Tim didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to give in to Jason’s cruelty.
“Tell you what,” Jason’s voice dropped low and almost sultry. “If you say it out loud, I’ll give you a free pass. No one will know.”
“A free pass?”
There was no way Jason was implying what Tim thought he was.
“Right here, right now.” Jason nodded. “Can’t say I’ll make it sweet, but something tells me you’re not the vanilla type anyway.”
Shit. He was implying that. Tim’s breath caught in his throat.
The answer should’ve been obvious. 
The answer was obvious. Tim was laying in a growing pool of his own blood because of Jason. Countless people were dead because of Jason. Bruce’s legacy was being destroyed because of Jason. Whatever little crush Tim had once had was long gone and replaced with disgust and hatred.
Most of it was. 
But some small piece of Tim clung to the way Jason grinned at him. And that small piece of him seemed to be steering the rest of him, making him hesitate on what should’ve been an easy answer. An easy chance to catch Jason off guard and get the upper hand in the fight.
Tim hoped the cowl hid enough of his face that his expression wasn’t readable. 
“Over my dead body,” Tim forced the words out, pulling himself back into reality. Praying Jason wouldn’t read into the pause. 
Jason’s body shifted. He was quiet for a moment, then he shrugged and brought the batarang clenched in his fist to Tim’s neck, easily finding the jugular. “So be it. I agree anyway. Killing you is the best way to cut this goddamn feeling out of me.”
“What feeling?” Tim frowned, fingers twitching as he stalled, trying to think of a real plan. 
“No, no.” Jason shook his head and laughed. It was a hollow sound, this time. “You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too. If you won’t say it, then I won’t either.”
Oh.
“You…” Tim sucked in a breath. He was on death’s edge, a blade to his neck, but somehow it was the furthest thing from his spinning mind. “You like me? Like that?” He said it like a stupid high schooler, too shy to even look their crush in the eye. 
“What difference does it make now?” Jason shifted his weight on Tim, bearing down more. “This was always how it was going to end, between us.”
“It makes all the difference,” Tim said. He didn’t know why it did. But he knew it did. Tim reached a hand up, but instead of going for Jason’s batarang, he went further. His fingers reached under his own cowl and tugged it off, baring his face to Jason. 
Vulnerability. A metaphorical white flag, surrendering to Jason. 
Tim was dangerously close to getting himself killed. He could feel it, in his beating heart and overflowing adrenaline. 
“I would’ve come at this from a different angle if I knew…” Tim started, before trailing off. They were still dancing around saying it directly.
Jason barked out another laugh. “Oh, would you? What, you would’ve come to talk instead of fight? You really think that would’ve worked?”
“Maybe-“
“I told you,” Jason’s grip on the batarang tightened, “I don’t need your fucking pity.”
“And you don’t have it,” Tim snapped back. Too angry. This angle was quickly slipping away from him. Shit. “You’re a psychopathic killer and I don’t know if you can ever been redeemed after what you’ve done. But I would’ve tried out of love, not pity, you sanctimonious asshole.”
Jason stuttered. He leaned back and breathed hard. Tim really wished he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask. “You said it wasn’t love.”
Tim took in a deep breath, and let himself fall over the ledge he’d been trying so hard to cling to since Jason pinned him. “I lied.”
For a moment, Tim was convinced he’d just sealed his own coffin. Whatever Jason’s feelings were, it didn’t seem like they were any particular deterrent to hurting Tim. He was inches away from killing Tim and leaving his body for someone else to find.
If they found Tim’s body at all.
But instead. Instead, Jason reached up and ripped the metal part of his mask off, tossing it aside to skitter off into the darkness.
And he kissed Tim.
Tim let out the breath he was holding against Jason’s mouth. And in turn, Jason breathed him in, greedy with his kiss. The batarang was kept firm against Tim’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Jason was kissing him. 
There was still the logical side of him screaming just how bad of an idea this was. All the reasons he could think of to not tangle with Jason were running circles across his mind. 
Tim ignored them and kissed Jason back. 
Jason tasted like metal and he smelled like gunpowder. Both of those things made sense and made Tim want more. He wanted every single part of Jason he could drink up, even from a single kiss. Jason’s tongue was in his mouth, licking and opening Tim up. They shared each other’s blood through the kiss, until Tim couldn’t tell whose was whose. 
The kiss was broken by Jason just as suddenly as it was started. Jason pulled back and raised the batarang. Panic flashed through Tim and he instinctively threw his hands up to cover his face and neck. 
The batarang slashed through Tim’s suit though, thankfully not giving him what might’ve been the stupidest death in the history of vigilantism. Jason didn’t seem to care about making sure the cut didn’t get Tim’s skin, though. Shallow wounds sprang across Tim’s skin and he hissed, watching Jason turn the suit to ribbons. The batarang was then tossed aside so Jason could rip off the suit as he leaned back. 
The bat symbol on Tim’s chest stayed in tact, but everything below it was ripped away, exposing him from his abs down to his thighs. Jason knew exactly how to unclip the utility belt and throw that aside, with the shreds of fabric. 
Cold air hit Tim’s most private areas. He wanted to cover himself, but he couldn’t get his hands to obey. His entire body was paralyzed under Jason’s gaze.
“Take off your mask,” Tim found his voice, rough and not sounding like himself.
Jason wore a cruel smirk. “No.” He did take off his gloves, though. Tim didn’t hide his sigh of relief. He didn’t want those claws on his skin. He was bleeding enough as it was.
The moment Jason’s hands were bare, he ran them over Tim’s skin. Tim hissed and flinched, but didn’t pull away. He let Jason’s warm hands claim his skin. Jason wasn’t kind or gentle. He smeared Tim’s blood around, exploring every bare inch. Tim’s stomach, his hips, his back, his legs. 
Jason curled a hand around Tim’s dick and Tim’s back arched. 
To be fair, this wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured sleeping with Jason. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain. 
Jason jerked Tim off rough and fast. The blood on his hand was slick enough to make a smooth glide over the callouses of his palm. Tim groaned, eyes fluttering shut. He bucked into Jason’s hand. As much pain as his body was in, the pleasure was too distracting for him to care. Tim choked on every breath he managed to take in, unable to stop himself from crying out and whining.
His body was screaming at him because of what Jason had done to him. And now, he was letting himself fall apart to Jason’s hands in a different way. 
“If Grayson found us, he’d think I was fucking torturing you from all the pathetic noises you’re making,” Jason growled. He barely sounded human. He slid his other hand up Tim’s chest and grabbed Tim’s face, stroking his cheek. 
Tim groaned at the thought. He forced his eyes to open just so he could look at Jason. He really wished Jason would take the cowl off. Tim wanted to see Jason’s face more than anything. 
“Don’t bring him up,” Tim gasped, practically humping Jason’s hand for more delirious pleasure. “I don’t want to think about him now.”
At least he could see Jason’s smirk. “Why? Because you know he’d disapprove?”
“Because I want to think about you.” Tim tried to grab at Jason’s suit to pull it off. His hands were clumsy and shaky though, probably from blood loss. All he could do was uselessly press them against Jason’s chest and feel the warmth through layers of armor.
“Fuck,” Jason groaned. His whole body shuddered, affected by Tim’s words alone. Jason stopped jerking Tim off so he could unclip his belt. He kept his other hand against Tim’s face though. Stroking it. “Least I know why you broke me out of prison, now.”
Tim made an aghast noise. “This is not why I broke you out of prison.”
Jason leaned in close, resting his face against Tim’s. “You still broke me out. So all my blood is on your hands too, Tim.” He pressed a kiss against Tim’s temple. “Bruce wouldn’t have been stupid enough to do that. Hell of a Batman you make.” It was like he had crawled into Tim’s brain just to voice all the awful little thoughts that Tim tried to bury. 
“You-“ Tim tried to snap back, but he was distracted by the sound of Jason undoing a clasp, then a zipper. Tim looked down and watched, breath caught in his throat, as Jason pulled his cock out of his pants.
He was already hard. 
Jason’s hand smeared blood across his member. Tim swallowed at the sight. Jason had pushed his pants down just enough to expose a sliver of pale skin. He had a sharp v-line and toned muscles just from the bit Tim could see. An embarrassing noise came out of Tim’s throat.
“Pathetic,” Jason said, but he groaned on the word, working his hand over himself. It was filthy. Both of them, covered in blood, and Jason jerking off on top of Tim. 
Tim wrapped an arm around Jason. He wanted to sink his fingers into Jason’s hair, but he settled for wrapping them around the back of Jason’s cowl. Tim seriously considered trying to pull the cowl off himself, but he doubted Jason would take kindly to it. 
The noises Jason made as he pleasured himself were beautiful. Tim’s sounds were animalistic and, in Jason’s own words, pathetic. Barely human sounding. But Jason. Jason sounded practically divine, low and smooth as he moaned in Tim’s ear. 
“Please,” Tim gasped. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for.
“That desperate?” Jason downright purred. 
Tim didn’t hold himself back from nodding. He swallowed down his dignity. 
If he had any dignity left.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” Jason warned. Like he was giving Tim one last chance to back out.
Tim just laughed. “If you think I want you to be gentle, you really don’t know a thing about me.”
A guttural groan came out of Jason. He pulled back and lifted one of Tim’s legs, bending it as far back as he could. Tim wasn’t quite as flexible as Dick was, but Jason got pretty far before Tim’s muscles protested and he winced. 
“Of course you shave down there,” Jason commented. He slid a hand over Tim’s smooth skin around his cock and balls.
“I don’t like pubes getting caught in my suit,” Tim huffed, trying not to let his cheeks go red.
“Don’t worry,” Jason hummed, “I think it’s cute. Makes you look like a fucking virgin.”
“I’m not.” Like it mattered.
Jason paused, just staring at Tim. Was he disappointed? It was hard to tell. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, so it doesn’t matter either way.” Whether or not he was disappointed was masked with a rough, possessive anger that made Tim gasp.
Rough fingers ran over the shallow cuts on Tim’s stomach and he hissed at the sudden sharp pain. It wasn’t easy to ignore the dull throbbing when Jason was practically fingering the open wounds. Tim almost asked what the hell he was doing, before he realized Jason was smearing blood across his fingers, getting them slick and coated.
“Seriously? You’re going to use my own blood to fuck me?” Tim asked, like just the thought of it wasn’t making him spread his legs wider. Still, the idea of cleaning tacky blood out of himself did make Tim internally cringe.
“You got a better idea?” Jason shot back. 
“I think there’s lube in-“
“No.” Jason cut him off, pressing harder into the cuts just to make Tim wince. “We’re doing it my way, or I just leave you in a pool of your own blood with a hard-on.”
“Okay.” Tim caved instantly with a hushed whisper at the rough dominance. 
It was so easy, for Jason to take complete control of Tim. He was putty in Jason’s hands, content to be manipulated however Jason wanted, so long as Tim got his own pleasure out of it. If Jason wanted Tim to bleed, he would bleed. If he wanted Tim to be spread open and ready to be fucked, then Tim would give him that too.
Christ. He needed to be checked out mentally after this. 
Jason gave Tim a pleased hum, probably the closest thing to praise Tim was going to get out of him. He’d take it. Blood slick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole. Two fingers were forced in at once, hard and fast.
Tim screamed.
He didn’t expect Jason to be gentle, but it seemed like Jason was going out of his way to be rough. Scrapping his nails against Tim’s insides and brutally twisting his fingers around. He didn’t try to hit Tim’s prostate to bring any kind of pleasure. The brushes of his fingers over that spot were more painful than pleasurably, if anything. Fast and rough, giving Tim no chance to soak up the sparks of sensation from the bundle of nerves.
“Oh god,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back. His hips twitched violently, like they weren’t sure to press into Jason’s fingers for more, or to try to pull away from the horrible assault.
It’d been a while since Tim had been in this much pain. So battered from a fight that every movement of his body was weak and shaky. He grabbed onto Jason’s arm, desperate for an anchor. He couldn’t have pulled Jason off of him, even if he wanted to.
He didn’t, though. Tim wanted this to last as long as it possibly could. 
He never got to drown himself in the pain. Pain was something that had to be compartmentalized and ignored, for the sake of the mission. Getting back on his feet and ignoring the way his body screamed at him was one of the first things Bruce taught him. 
Now, Tim didn’t have to fight it. He could just give in. The half-hearted instincts from his body trying to fight back were ignored by Jason. Like Jason knew that Tim wanted this. 
Needed this. 
At some point, Jason must’ve worked a third finger inside of Tim. He didn’t notice. The burning stretch swirled with every other point of pain on his body. 
He did noticed when Jason finally decided to purposefully press against Tim’s prostate.
This pleasure was new. Foreign and overstimulating with how aggressively Jason pressed down on the spot, rubbing into it to pull all kinds of noises out of Tim he didn’t know he was capable of making. 
“Jason!” Tim cried out. “Fuck, too much, I can’t-“ Tim’s stomach was cramping from how hard his muscles clenched. He was falling, losing his grip on sensible reality. His head was full of cotton, foggy and unable to get a solid grip on coherent thought.
There were only three things that existed to Tim: pain, pleasure, and Jason. 
“You can’t what? Use your fucking words,” Jason mocked, vicious and uncaring. He rested Tim’s leg over his shoulder to free up his other hand. His fingers wrapped around Tim’s balls and tugged. Tim screamed and arched like a jack knife. He hadn’t noticed how close his orgasm was creeping up on him until Jason pulled it away with a brutal, carnal pain. When Tim lost control of his body, Jason found it and snatched it up, holding Tim’s pleasure in his palm. Tim wanted to curl in on himself, but he couldn’t force his limbs to obey. 
“Hurts,” was all Tim could groan out. He might’ve been crying. It was hard to tell, with his face so wet with blood. 
“Good.”
“Jason,” Tim tried to beg. He was lost to subspace, something he barely realized until now. “I can’t take anymore.” He wanted more. More than want, god, he needed more, but his body was wired so tight Tim was convinced he was going to snap if Jason kept going. 
He wanted that too.
“That’s not for you to decide.” Jason’s rough voice was a light at the end of a tunnel Tim was struggling toward to ground himself. To focus on something besides the agony crashing over his body in brutal waves. “Do you really think you’re in the fucking state to know what you can take?”
Jason was right. Tim just whined, a noise that turned into a choked sob when Jason pulled his fingers out just enough to slam them into Tim’s sweet spot again, overwhelming him with more awful pleasure. 
“Give yourself over to me,” Jason demanded. He leaned in close again. Tim’s vision was blurred, but he could smell the gunpowder and leather. “Say it. Say I own you.”
Tim wanted to. He tried, opening his mouth and struggling to get the words out. He could only make more pathetic noises.
“Say it, or I’ll stab you and leave you to fucking bleed out.”
He probably wasn’t lying.
“You-“ Tim choked on the word, shaking so hard his muscles were spasming. “You own me.” Three little words, and they were the hardest words Tim had ever tried to say. Each one fought against him, getting stuck in his throat. 
But he said them. Because right now, they were the only religion Tim believed in. 
“Look at that,” Jason cooed. So patronizing. “You’re not completely brainless and worthless. Yet, anyway.” He pulled his fingers out of Tim. One second those fingers had been driving Tim mad because they were inside of him, and now they were driving him mad because they left him empty and wanting. 
His body needed more. More pain, more pleasure. Until he broke and Jason fucked the shattered pieces left of Tim. 
Jason got a hand underneath Tim, using the blood from the gash on Tim’s back to slick his fingers this time. That gash was far deeper. Something that probably needed stitches. It had started trying to clot but Jason agitated it enough for fresh blood to pour out. He was able to actually work his fingers under Tim’s bloody skin, making Tim shriek and try to pull away. 
There was nowhere for him to escape from the mind-numbing pain. When he pulled away, he just crashed into Jason’s chest, forehead bumping against the bat symbol of Jason’s suit. 
“So fucking easy to push your buttons,” Jason laughed. He moved his fingers around a bit more just to make his point and pull more wounded noises out of Tim. Then he finally pulled them free and let Tim fall back to the hard ground. It knocked the wind out of Tim.
He didn’t have a chance to try to get air into his lungs. Because Jason slicked himself up with a disturbing speed and lined up. The warning of blunt pressure against Tim’s hole lasted a fraction of a second and then Jason snapped his hips. Buried to the hilt.
Tim almost passed out.
He didn’t know if it was from the pain, the blood loss, or his body’s inability to get oxygen into his lungs. Everything exploded inside of Tim. He was full, so full so fast. Jason’s fingers hadn’t been nearly kind enough to properly stretch Tim for Jason’s size. It almost felt like being stabbed.
Over and over, as Jason fucked into Tim with no kindness. 
A hard slap across Tim’s face forced him off of the edge of unconsciousness. He gasped, eyes snapping open to find Jason’s face right above his, the glowing eyes of the mask taking over Tim’s field of vision. 
Jason was smiling. Blood on his teeth, dripping out of his mouth. Was it his blood or Tim’s?
Tim hoped it was both. 
“I don’t know which Bruce would find more pathetic,” Jason groaned as he fucked into Tim, pulling small screams out of Tim with each punch of his cock, “you putting on that suit, or you letting me fuck you in it.” He brought his lips to Tim’s ear. “Who’s ruining his legacy now?”
If the physical pain wasn’t bad enough, Jason knew exactly how to rip open the wounds of Tim’s emotional pain alongside it. Tim cried out at the thought. 
What would Bruce think of him, like this? Pathetic and barely human underneath Jason Todd?
“And they call me the failed Robin,” Jason just kept talking, like he wasn’t destroying Tim from the inside out. “At least I know how to be something other than Robin. Are you really delusional enough to think you’re going to be the next Batman?” A long moan came out of him and he thrust even harder until Tim screamed loud enough to make himself dizzy. “Answer me.”
Tim just shook his head. “No.” His voice was broken. His throat was sore from screaming, but the word still came out. He’d never thought he really could be Batman. So what the hell was he thinking, putting this suit on?
“Good.” Jason slid his fingers under the bat symbol on Tim’s chest, one of the only parts of the suit in tact. He ripped it off, the fabric tearing loudly in Tim’s ears. “It’s good you know your fucking place.” Jason changed his angle, finding Tim’s battered prostate again. Tim didn’t have the air in his lungs to scream anymore. All he could do was weakly mewl and whimper.
He could die like this. He honestly might. Tim had no idea how his body was holding on, in this state. Maybe it was the pain and pleasure alone keeping him alive. Just so he could soak up every touch from Jason.
Tim was never going to allow himself to do this again. So he had to enjoy it while it lasted.
This time, Tim felt his orgasm creeping up on him. His fingers dug into Jason’s arm and he pressed up into Jason’s warmth. The material of Jason’s suit was rough and unforgiving. It didn’t feel particularly good for Tim to grind his cock against, but he didn’t care. He needed any kind of friction, whether it brought him pleasure or road rash. 
“I won’t stop if you come,” Jason warned, still hammering into Tim at a pace that should’ve been impossible for a normal human to manage. “This isn’t to make you feel good. It’s to put you in your fucking place.”
Tim could only whine, managing a nod of understanding. This was his place. He knew that. He never wanted to leave it. 
The threat of being fucked into overstimulation hung over Tim’s head, but he couldn’t stop himself from chasing the high of his orgasm. He almost wanted to feel the overstimulation. Like his orgasm was just something to get over with so Tim could completely give himself over to Jason. To be used just for Jason’s pleasure, even if it brought him nothing but more pain. 
That thought made Tim’s balls tighten. The only warning he could give Jason was a high pitched keen that barely sounded like Tim’s own voice. His eyes rolled back.
The pleasure of his orgasm didn’t overtake the screaming pain in the rest of his body. It just mixed with the pain, swirling into one intense feeling Tim didn’t have a name for. He screamed until his throat gave out. His back arched and he clenched around Jason, who kept driving into him. Jason growled in Tim’s ear. He was holding Tim’s hip so tight there would be bruises that would end up indistinguishable from the rest of Tim’s injuries.
All injuries that Jason gave Tim. Tim’s body was a canvass, and Jason’s favorite color to paint with was the red that poured out of Tim. 
It was the best orgasm Tim had ever felt. No feeling was ever going to match this intensity. 
Tim came down from his high with an awful wheeze, shuddering. He clung to Jason, like a guard dog laying at the feet of his master. 
“Fuck,” Jason moaned. A shudder ran down his spine and his pace faltered, just for a moment. “You’re really something else, Drake.” From Jason, that was practically a compliment for Tim to soak up and preen under. 
Tim’s body tipped over the edge of overstimulation. His survival instincts kicked in, trying to fight Jason. There was no strength behind his kicks and hits. They just made Jason laugh as Tim made a fool of himself.
“I own you,” Jason reminded Tim. He caught Tim’s wrist and pinned it against the cold concrete, squeezing tight enough to cut off circulation to Tim’s fingers. “I can do whatever I want to your useless body. Don’t try to fight it now.” He leaned down and found an exposed part of Tim’s neck to sink his teeth into. It wasn’t a hickey, but a proper bite, breaking Tim’s skin. 
Tim cried out, but still tilted his head to the side to give Jason better access to his neck. Even when his body wanted to fight, Tim managed to submit. Like the submission was natural to him. 
The pain took over. Tim just floated in it, forcing himself to go limp. Submit. No more fighting. He gave in to Jason and stopping thinking. All Tim needed to do was feel. Feel every point of agony scattered across his body. Feel Jason fucking him. Using him, like Tim was nothing more than a toy. The sparks from Jason slamming into his sweet spot couldn’t be called pleasure anymore, with Tim’s cock spent and limp. It was more pain. 
Better that way. Tim liked the pain more. Delicious and mind-numbing. 
Jason was swearing against Tim’s skin. He mumbled something Tim didn’t catch. Three syllables. Short and rushed out. Tim was almost convinced the second word was love. Maybe he was making it up in his head though, finally lost in utter delirium.
Tim didn’t care.
More insults fell from Jason’s lips. Calling Tim nothing, worthless, pathetic. A cheap pretender who deserved this. Tim agreed with all of it, feverishly nodding. The words were practically sweet nothings in Tim’s ears. 
Jason yelled Tim’s name when he came. His hips stuttered to a stop, buried deep inside of Tim. He knew Jason was coming inside of him, but his body was too battered to feel Jason’s cum filling his insides. Shame that was. Tim wanted to know how it felt, to be claimed by Jason in this carnal way.
They were both so perfectly still, for two people who had been shaking and clawing at each other just moments ago. The only noise was heavy breathing that echoed through the night.
Tim swallowed. He tried to find himself through the pain. He worked through the body checklist that Bruce gave him. Vision. Smell. Taste. Feel. Sound. All the sensations clashed against each other, out of focus and pounding against Tim’s skull.
It was so hard to think.
Tim groaned. Focus. 
Like cold water thrown on his face, he clawed his way out of subspace. Tim got a good look at Jason’s face.
“Are you crying?” Tim voiced the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. 
With the mask, it was hard to tell. Jason’s breathing was shuddered, hitching on every inhale. Tim wouldn’t call it sobbing, but it was close enough for Tim to study Jason’s face. The wetness coming out from under Jason’s mask wasn’t red. It streaked through the blood. 
Tear tracks. 
Jason’s completely rational response was to punch Tim in the face.
Tim swore and curled in on himself, cupping his nose. If it wasn’t broken before, it was now. Jason pulled out of Tim without any care and stood up, leaving him curled up on the ground, trying to set the broken bone and manage the bleeding.
Tim tried to sit up. His arms and legs gave out under him and he slammed back to the ground with a pained noise. He looked up at Jason, squinting. Watching as Jason tucked himself back into his pants, then snatched his gloves off the ground to put them back on.
Despite clearly losing the fight, Tim had done a number on Jason. Jason’s face was bloody and his suit was ripped and torn in some places. He looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal.
If that was how Jason looked, Tim couldn’t imagine what the sight of his own body was.
His second attempt to sit up worked. Now, he compartmentalized. Forced the pain deep into the corners of his mind and locked it up. 
Tim had to be functional now. He couldn’t let the regret and shame get to him.
“I-“ Jason started to say something. It was only one word, but it sounded uncharacteristically soft, making Tim straighten his back and hold his breath. But Jason cleared his throat and folded his arms, stamping down whatever kindness had almost come out. “I’ll throw you a bone. If any of the Bats find you like this you can just tell them I raped you,” he said it like some kind of mean joke.
Tim didn’t say anything. That wasn’t true. They both knew it.
“Preserve your precious dignity you care so much about, huh?” Jason continued. He sounded unsure of himself and he turned away from Tim. 
“Jason-“ Tim reached out for him. “We can still-“ he struggled for the words. “It doesn’t have to end like this. You can still change. I’ll-“
“Don’t,” Jason snapped. He kicked away Tim’s hand. “We both know it’s too late for that.” He started to walk away. “Never wear that suit again, Drake. I’d hate to see you die to someone that isn’t me.” He almost sounded… protective? Tim wouldn’t call it fondness, but maybe something close to that. Tim refused to allow himself to read into it. Whoever Jason Todd had become, he was someone that Tim couldn’t save. He was someone who didn’t want to be saved, no matter how Tim felt about him. Tim had to accept that, even with Jason’s cum deep inside him. Some truths were immutable. 
Then, Jason was gone. Vanishing into the shadows and leaving Tim there.
Tim tilted his head back. He allowed himself thirty seconds. He counted them. Thirty seconds to sit in his own filth and feel the pain for just a little longer, before he had to move and figure out how he was going to get home in one piece without anyone finding out what happened here.
Just ten more seconds.
Five. 
Three.
One.
With grit teeth and a deep breath, Tim stood up.
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surachelledraws · 10 months ago
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I have recently been released from a DOOZY of a hyperfixation spell. Whew. I was UNWELL. So here's a page of scum villain brain rot
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Me: //brushing up on my old Paperhat fanfics to make sure I'm getting details right for the new one//
Me @ my past readers:
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foccaccia · 7 months ago
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does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians
#i say lesbians but i guess i mean sapphic#im just like. tired of gnawing#and of men also. sorry men in my life i love you but on god if i have to pretend one more man is butch just to get#content that isnt m/m or m/f im going to turn into a horse and run into the wilderness until im saved from the glue factory by a plucky#young woman except instead of letting her have her formative summer where she trains me and bonds w me and wins a competition w me#im going to commit horse suicide in front of her & change her life forever. just because im so tired of bland CW-marketable women kissing &#digging for scraps in a refuse bin while brushing aside 7002993829292929939292929399394 gay and het romances#m text#i will also take nonfictional lesbians if its like a story#not to be whiny on main but one of the hardest hurdles i had to jump wasnt realizing i was a lesbian. i came out to myself and to friends a#lesbian multiple times. but i would always walk it back when a friend would express doubt or a male friend would ask me out#bc i dont and especially then didnt know very many lesbians in person. and so i had to turn to examples#and all i fucking had were fictional women who liked men. or fictional lesbians who were so cleaned and sanitized and prettified#(you all know what i mean right. the 2 skinny white girls one blonde one brunette. im not crazy right)#and i would be like. i dont feel things when i look at these fictional lesbians so i guess i belong back here#(this is also bc my gender ended up being fuckier than i realized but shhhhh)#I WAS GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THESE TAGS but theyre too long and im lost.#anyway the point is if people werent so fucking weird abt fictional or onscreen lesbians maybe thered be a lot more people comfortable bein#out as lesbian#like sorry but this awful ouroboros of 'all lesbians onscreen have to be cute and sanitized' meaning that people write and believe wlw has#to be cute and pure and sanitized (OR a 'badge of honor' bc good for u u doodled two women together or had it as a background in ur fic)#meaning that therefore all portrayals of lesbianism continue to be like this. is just#and im also gonna be honest theres probably a lot of good sapphic media im just in the wrong circles to have stumbled into lol. so#yknow. personal viewer bias here#but i still like swing wildly between overly brandishing my dykeness as a badge to feel like im proving im lesbian#and like. backing up under a blanket bc i dont wanna be weird or annoying or freak people out#but if people just Saw Normal Ass Lesbians. aough.#im going to watch revolutionary girl utena one of these days even if i struggled w the writing style the first few episodes#I JUST WANNA SEE AN OLD BUTCH ONSCREEN GET SOME PUSSY.#like it also doesnt help im mostly femme4butch so seeing 2 femmes on screen is like. okay cool so what. but only femmes are 'marketable'
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not-equippedforthis · 1 year ago
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hi im here again!
i remember a scene in poirot where hastings falls asleep on the couch with a newspaper - wondering if this is canon or if ive mistaken my beloved headcanon/fanon for canon again. episode?
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pyrriax · 5 months ago
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ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏
#haunted ecosystem#i'll take a burst of creativity in a different form than usual than the burnout slump i've been in for a few months#<- part of why my fandom stuff has taken a smidge of a backseat#dont get me wrong i am still very excited about my fandoms im just having fun off in oc hell (affectionate)#its nice to just be able to create and not really worry about perception. and also i feel Less bad about just throwing ocs into the wringer#((blame the fact i've been REALLY interested in whump recently and i have been. fixated. on one of my characters.))#and ALSO i've been! rekindling my flame for wtds. i've been putting off thinking about it since that fic got.#nothing bad happened? but it was still very devastating that somebody who i considered a friend from that fic just. evaporated.#but i'm gonna finish that fic for him :) even if it takes a year. even if it's the one thing i finish ever. it'll be wtds.#for where its gotten me and the fact its what got me out of my shell and is the reason i trust that my writing is good!#i used to really hate rereading my work. i catch flaws that are obvious to me. but that fic. i just think about how *good* the story is#that story means. a lot to me? as a person? like the main character is not a good person. but people care about him anyway.#and there are so many little things. so many sentiments. so much that is a love letter to people who've done bad but learnt to do better#because. god knows i wasnt a good person even just a few years ago. and maybe i see myself in him a bit.#he came from a place of paranoia and fear and pain. and maybe its a good thing that i've found it difficult to write him recently.#because god. i've been HAPPY. even with the rough moments and bad days. i've been happy. i mean fuck.#my birthday's what. ten days away? god damn man. i'm going to be 18. that's an achievement.#i want to look the kid who thought it was over at half my age and tell him we fucking made it. and there are more years to come.#there's a life ahead. even if it's going to be a bitch. even if it's going to be tough. there's love in your heart and people who care and#you're going to fucking live and you're going to feel better one day. you have people to meet properly and thank and cherish.#because for every day it feel like the world's ending there are a dozen more where the sun shines just the right way through the rain#and you can't help but smile because it's just so god damn beautiful.#and fuck it. you're sick. your hands hurt and your legs don't work right. and it's tough sometimes. but you have people who understand.#you have people who honest to god love you for who you are and appreciate your company. and 18 is the first step.#you've spent half your life unlearning things and you've spent half your life relearning how to be what YOU want to be#and if you're a mediocre artist and passionate writer then you'll be fucking great at that. taking the time to learn when it strikes you.#and maybe this is for me. but its also for anybody reading it too. please god if there's one thing you take from this let it be that#somebody out there cares. *I* care. god i care. even if we've never spoken proper i care about you.#i practically have a list of everybody i see in my inbox. i love seeing familiar names show up. i.#i dont know how to neatly wrap up this tag ramble. but. i am so damn full of love it hurts sometimes. its scary to be happy but thats ok!
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ereborne · 8 months ago
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Song of the Day: March 18
"Break Down Here" by Julie Roberts
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raksh-writes · 10 months ago
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Me, unironically watching the prequels, because Ive been having Anakin brain-worms since watching Obi-wan Kenobi and Ahsoka a few days ago: *chuckles* Im in danger...
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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year ago
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Insecurity is a hell of a drug
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uefb · 2 years ago
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Today i learned i’m scared of Tina Goldstein
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This fic has taken on a life of its own and i guess i’m okay with that
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devilishdelights · 2 years ago
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when i actually write a fic. u will see
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acaciapines · 2 years ago
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me out here like so i know ive written a lot of deltarune fic and my big project now is the owl house daemon au but what if i write MORE deltarune fic instead <3
fkgndfjg recently ive been thinking about an au where kris left with dess and thus its noelle and susie who fall into the dark worlds (similar to the ending of my fic either (first, last) where dess is human except idk if id keep that part of things) and im like. n. no. you cant do that. youd end up Writing Deltarune. do you know how long that would take. so fucking long.
but im like. but noelle in kris’s role....how the prophecy is still ‘a human, a monster, and a prince from the dark’ except the human died? vanished? before it could ever be fulfilled. how if i make it so kris and dess are still alive that means they could come BACK and we get to see a kris raised by dess. how this means asriel wouldve never left for college (since the dreemurrs think kris and dess are dead and if kris Died because of dess azzy 100% blames himself and isnt about to leave his mom and dad) and i get to explore his relationship with noelle as the two left behind. how ralsei is still kris’s headband here but there is no kris, so where does that leave ralsei?
BASICALLY SOMEONE STOP ME I KEEP GETTING MORE IDEAS. i havent even posted the bad end au yet and im like ok but what if MORE.
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