let me drown
you meet qimir for a morning swim (qimir x fem!reader)... because i couldn't be normal about that scene.
warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, an ode to manny jacinto's collarbones and also his shoulders and arms, slightly painful sex (but like... in a hot and consensual way), possessiveness, pwp basically (wc: 800+)
Droplets of water pool in the hollow of his collarbone, running down his broad shoulders in rivulets, shimmering in the morning sun like jewels, as Qimir cuts through the water. His muscled arms effortlessly slice into the still surface, sending ripples in every direction.
He looks ethereal, swimming in the cerulean pool. A long forgotten sea god, waiting to hook you by the ankle and drag you below the surface, drown you and breathe new life into you at the bottom of the sea.
It's beautiful and frightening in equal measures.
You wait on the shore, seawater lapping at your ankles and bare feet, arms around your knees, ignoring the puddling water that's soaking through your bottoms.
You wait for him to notice you there.
He doesn't keep you waiting – or maybe, Qimir sensed your presence from the moment you'd stepped onto the shore, from the moment your eyes had opened in the cave and looked for him, finding him gone.
A suspicion that's confirmed when Qimir lifts his gaze, unsurprised, sweeping escaping strands of damp hair from his face, and calls out softly, "Aren't you going to join me?"
His voice. You love his voice, as smooth as the surface of the water lapping at his strong shoulders, as the salt-licked rocks on the shore and the cliffs, as the weather-beaten pebbles that dig into your soles as you stand.
You undo the robe in a smooth motion and let it fall from your shoulders, baring yourself to him in the morning light, and Qimir doesn't look away.
He catches his lip between his teeth, dragging his gaze down your naked form, drinking you in with a kind of possessiveness that feels heretical; coveting you without so much as laying a finger on you, owning you with his dark eyes.
You wade in, and Qimir drifts toward you, moving silently and swiftly, predator-like.
An uneven rock catches on your foot under the surface, sending you forward. You tumble into him with a soft curse, and Qimir catches your arms with wet hands, steadying you, guiding your hands to his shoulders.
Flexing your fingers is almost an instinct, searching for a hold, like scaling a cliff, digging in to the muscles, and Qimir shudders, long lashes brushes against his cheeks, inclining his head to meet your gaze.
"Careful," Qimir cautions, soft and honeyed, a kind of music, and you don't know if Qimir means to be careful with the rocks or with your wandering hands.
You gamble on the former and let them wander further, moving over him, mapping him like an uncharted planet. One of your arms slips around his neck, giving him your weight, and Qimir's hand slips under your knee to catch you.
His hand is rough, guiding your leg around his hip, finding a balance.
He is pressed up against you now, cock hardening against your stomach. An involuntary gasp escapes from your mouth, and Qimir nips at the sound, sucking at your lip, beads of seawater dripping from his mouth into yours.
"Careful," Qimir repeats, only this time, it sounds like a question.
Should I be careful? Do you want me to be?
You shake your head slowly, a fine mist of salt water blowing in from the sea, coating your lashes, and Qimir's lips part in a half smile, pleased.
He's not careful. Careful is gentle caresses and the press of his mouth between your legs, warming you from the inside out, drinking from you like a nectar.
This isn't careful.
He doesn't get you ready, doesn't warm your cunt with his fingers, doesn't press you open in increments. He invites your legs around his hips, grasping at your ass with one hand for leverage, and pushes into you in one long and interrupted stroke that knocks the breath from your lungs, knocks your bones from your body.
You press your face into his shoulder, biting down with a whimper, probably leaving marks. That's okay. He likes marks, likes the feeling of your nails dragged down his back.
You're at war with yourself, split in the same way that Qimir is splitting you in half with his cock; a need to squirm away from the overpowering sensation; a need to invite him deeper, harder, faster.
He makes a soothing– borderline mocking – sound against your cheek and strokes your hair back from your wet cheeks; and holds you there, pinned open for him, fluttering and adjusting to the size of his cock.
"Oh? How does it feel?" Qimir asks, still stroking your cheeks.
"Good."
He smiles and lifts your chin with his knuckles and drinks a salt water kiss from your lips. "Good. You're ready for more."
It's not a question.
Seawater runs down your stinging cheeks, sensitive from the stubble on his carved jawline, mixing with the moisture that streams from the corners of your eyes as Qimir finally moves inside of you, dragging his cock out and pushing back in with a sweet and lethal slowness that borders on painful, so controlled; reaching inside and unraveling you from a place so deep that no one else could ever hope to uncover it; no one but him.
He likes it that way. Just him.
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I think a thing that people get wrong about Jason's anger is that it's not explosive.
It's cold. Jason isn't the type of person who storms off at every little thing or goes throwing tantrums and setting things on fire blindfully.
He's the type of person who's very practical. He keeps to himself, always. You rarely see issues where Jason's anger is reactive at the moment where the trigger happens to him. If you see his character up close, most of the time when he's triggered his reaction is calm. Even cold.
He gets triggered -> He keeps to himself → He makes a plan → And then he reacts.
Jason's anger being something explosive and out of character and out of place is actually how other people (characters) see it, because they have no idea on how it's playing out on Jason's head.
And that's a thing you can see operating since he was a child.
Where the only exceptions about this effect is either when someone he believes needs his help is involved.
See Nightwing Annual (2021)
But In Batman #411 when Jason learns the fact that Two-Face was responsible for his father's death and Bruce was keeping that from him as a secret his first reaction isn't to blow up on him.
Was to seethe.
Bruce goes up home after dealing with a Two-Face case (in my field we call that poetic irony) and asks Alfred where Jason is, Alfred's answer is that he's been sleeping all day (which is a conclusion that Alfred drew probably after going to check on Jason and seeing him in fact on his bed all day).
But when you see the next panel, even though he is on the bed, He's fully awake and both his expression and his body language shows that he's in fact angry.
This is the first time he appears again in the comics after learning that Two Face killed his dad.
Jason doesn't go towards Bruce immediately to demand an explanation or ask why he did this, or even to throw the truth on his face.
(Which could be debatable that that's something the Dick would usually do, but I'm not that literate on Dick's comics)
His reaction wasn't immediate.
His reaction was to go to his bed and stay quiet. Jason stayed calm and collected the whole trip until meeting Two Face again.
But the moment Jason as Robin has the opportunity to get his hands on Two-Face he does this
From Bruce, and maybe Alfred's perspective it could be interpreted as out of place or him storming off.
But it isn't. Jason was able to keep his cool (even though he shut off), until he was face a face to Two Face.
Does that mean he planned that to happen?
That's debatable, in any moment of this issue it is shown that Jason was actually planning to get to Two Face and do this. I my personal opinion, other and much more plausible explanation is: That he was in fact trying to keep to himself but couldn't hold back the moment that he saw his dad's murder.
You can see the same thing happening as Jason learns that Batman got another Robin in Red Hood: Lost Days.
Talia asks "You all right?" and Jason's first answer is "Sure Why Wouldn't I Be Alright?"
When he's alone he finally has the moment to break down.
(Actually both Red Hood: The lost days and Batman: Under the Red Hood are great case studies on how that usually play out on Jason's head.)
Jason is way more in control of his emotions than people ever give him credit for. The thing is that Jason holds it back until he either blows off or is capable to throw it back in someone's face.
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I think Kaz’s backstory is so fascinatingly darkly comedic, because any single thing that happened to him could be The Tragic Backstory for literally anyone else.
Mother not in the picture? Already the basis of Jesper and Nina’s trauma.
Father got cut in half with a plow while working the farm that made them money, and left him and his brother orphaned? Holy shit that took a hard left.
Brother and him having to sell their childhood home and move to the big city, only to have to stay in a hotel while his older brother works his tail end off to try and find a job so they can eat? Fuck, alright. Lotta resentment for the system building right there.
SCAMMED BY A GROWN MAN OUT OF THEIR “PIDDLING FORTUNE” AND LEFT TO ROT? HOLY HELL I’D BE ANGRY ALL THE TIME
Then, while out on the STREETS that the Bastard Scammer left them on, with no money and no food and no schooling and no shelter, a plague breaks out. On an island.
Then he gets the plague for days, then his big brother gets it.
THEN his big brother FUCKING DIES while HE gets better!
THEN he and his brother’s CORPSE get dropped on a PILE of corpses in the middle of the harbor.
then, of course, the main show, where he has to use his brother’s body to FLOAT back to land, where he is still homeless and still broke.
THEN BC IT STILL GETS WORSE, once he finally has his life semi-together and he’s working his way up, he does a dumb move on top of a building after robbing a fucking bank btw, and is permanently disabled for his efforts, and constantly in pain.
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