#hope you guys like it ; U ;

[triona-tribblescore]

okay so they may have a minor chokehold on me at the minute-

[lesbaurinkos]

do you think they knew even then that it was gonna be forever

[cozylittleartblog]

New Family Speedrun 00:09.12 (World Record Not Clickbait???)

[lylahammar]

IT'S FALIGON DAY BABYYYYYY I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF THIS DAY SINCE 2018 WE'RE POPPIN MASSIVE BOTTLES 🥳🎉🐉🍾🍻🔥

[christakisbang]

[mixtercandy]

Shout out to the REAL fnaf mvp SPARKY THE DOG !!

[kaogens]

more modern au sillies i heart them

[angelanderson]

abby anderson x reader first time mini fic

cw: literally just soft abby <3 first time with abby’s strap :)

the first time abby ever used her strap on you is something that stays in both of your minds. especially at night with your hands down your pants. it was just that mind blowing. you thought you met god, abby thought she was god.

both of you had been too nervous to bring it up originally. abby felt too nervous about it— she was worried it’d be too much too soon for you. you felt too shy— you didn’t want to scare away your freshly official relationship. it was only after after a few glasses of wine did you bring it up to abby. you thought she’d forgotten after that night… but you were so, so wrong.

abby decided to bring it out exactly two weeks later. she spent extra time working her fingers in and out of you; multiple orgasms came your way. she could tell you wanted something more due to your constant pleas of wanting something unnamed. with a quick peck to the lips after your second orgasm, abby wordlessly walked over to her closet, ignoring your confused whines.

you could’ve sworn your eyes popped out of your head the second you saw what was now hanging around her hips as she stalked back over to you. a very visible smirk formed as she saw your pupils blow out with lust. so, yeah, she definitely thought you were ready now.

“lay back for me. gonna give you my cock now. my baby wants it, huh? can see how desperate you are,” is the only thing she said before joining you on the bed again.

“y-yeah. ‘m ready,” spilled out of your puffy red lips as your body hit those satin sheets once again.

and with that, she had your legs open, making your back arch up a bit. you watched her face grow softer as she speaks to you, “deep breath, okay? gonna make you feel so good. you let me know if it hurts too much, got it?”

your nod wasn’t enough for her. “no, baby. need to hear you say it.”

“fuck. yes! swear i’m ready abs,” you instantly agreed. you couldn’t have been more ready, horny, or desperate for it.

she kisses your head again, her silent way of giving you comfort before she experimentally rubs the tip of her strap up and down your slit. she watched you grow wetter again— she knew you were ready for her to fuck you.

the purple silicon starts to slowly fill you up. she starts with the head, letting you adjust slowly. your girlfriend goes inch by inch until she’s bottomed out into you. she lets you adjust to the feeling of being filled by her. you eventually nod, giving her permission to move.

“gonna fuck you now. being such a good girl for me.” it’s the only thing abby says before she slowly thrusts in and out of you.

as her pace picks up, so do your moans. the way you moan her name is making her feel like she can feel how tight you are. like she could cum just from this. you both wonder why you didn’t do this sooner.

abby cursed under her breath as she watched you practically throw yourself into a rhythm, making her pick up the pace. each thrust had you both feeling some type of way. you could see abby’s slick through her now ruined boxers. the views you both had feel pornographic. your legs around abby’s shoulders, abby’s braid becoming undone, the loud moaning— everything felt euphoric.

faster and faster, abby slammed into you. her pace now felt bruising. chasing your orgasm is the only thing on your mind right now. nothing has ever compared to the way you feel right now. could you make it last forever? you sure hoped so.

abby was the first to reach her orgasm. you watched her ride out her orgasm as she grinds her clit against the harness with each thrust into you. her undone braid, flushed cheeks, and moans started to push you over the edge. your orgasm followed soon after hers— it’s everything you wanted and more.

both of your bodies practically collapsed onto the bed the second your highs are over. yeah, you decided you want this to to happen again and again and again. you’re sure abby feels the same way based on how she was staring at you. who knew seven inches of plastic could bring such an addicting orgasm.

[erwinsvow]

what abt shy!reader sleeping over at rafes for the first time?? 😊😊

you'd been so nervous, slathering way too much frosting onto chocolate cupcakes while rafe told you the agenda he'd planned for tonight's date. in between mentions of dinner at this restaurant he liked on the water and stopping to get some ice cream before the outdoor movie, he'd thrown in a sentence that made your heart thud in your chest.

"unless you wanna come watch a movie here. we can eat all this crap you jus' made." you look up, butter knife almost slipping out of your hand.

"watch a movie.. here?"

"yeah. couch's comfy. got enough dessert to get a cavity. you can sleep over. how's that sound?"

it sounded terrifying. this was a milestone, one you needed several days and a new set of pajamas to prepare for. rafe looks down at your worried eyes, knitted eyebrows. you set down the cupcake before you drop it.

"sleep over?" you repeat it softly.

"snap out of it, kid. you don't have to." though the words feel like they should be mean, they're not. spoken with a sweetness you often found yourself wondering came naturally to your boyfriend, or if you brought it out in him. you hope for both.

"no, i want to," you correct quickly, blinking fast. "um, can you bring me home to get my stuff?"

"yeah. before dinner."

you turn back to your cupcakes with a smile, one that he stares at while you finish up. true to his word, he brings you home—you drop off a few sweets for your parents, give your kitten a treat while you pack a quick bag and grab your toothbrush. you don't change for dinner, keeping the pretty dress on until he gets you back into his bedroom later that night.

you've brought clothes to sleep in, but you hover in front of rafe's dresser still, working up the nerve to ask for one of his shirts to wear to bed. you can't seem to find it, deciding just to wear your pajamas, no matter how silly they are, when rafe opens the drawer and pulls out two shirts. he hands you one.

"get changed. m'gonna go change in the bathroom. be right back." you think you'd marry the boy if he asked right now—he seems to know your every thought before you can even finish thinking it, or figure out how to articulate it.

when rafe comes back you're a vision in one of his old frat shirts, playing with your hair while you sit on the foot of his bed.

"ready to sleep?" he asks, and you look up from your knees, smiling at him the way he wish you wouldn't sometimes, the way that makes his chest hurt with the amount of love pouring through your pretty eyes.

"what about dessert?" you ask with a laugh, smiling bigger when he rolls his eyes.

"haven't you had enough? how do you still have teeth?"

"i floss."

"shut up. get in bed." you crawl under his covers, inhaling the way everything smells like him. you lay your head down on one of his pillows, staring when he gets in next to you. "you okay?"

you love that he asks, that he cares enough to make sure.

"yeah. i'm okay."

"good. get some sleep." he doesn't say anything, but he still brings you in close to his chest, head on top of his heart, an arm around you, legs tangled together. when he thinks you're asleep, you hear the quiet sound.

"night, kid."

[andersonlore]

omfg i meant rayne gosh thats embarrassing autocorrect hates me but yeah sub abby and reader sharing a double-sided dildo

crave | a. anderson

tags: eighteen+, wlw sex, penetration (r + abby!recieving), double sided dildo, mommy!kink, switch!abby but she's being a sub, desc of reader is vague so masc +fem!reader, yeah very close to ovulating so, but whimpering abby bc that needs to be a warning

a/n. real ones know i'm a sub!abby truther so this is for you just as much as it is for me. going to start working on requests y'all have sent me over the past few months. hopefully, the first of many to come. stay tuned!

DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.

divider creds — @cafekitsune

for once, abby is subjected the feeling she offers you everyday. it’s not only you whose moaning pathetically, it’s fucking her. she hates to admit it, fuck, she doesn’t even like moaning the way you’re making her. so fucking loud and desperate as her pussy clings around the cock while she’s trying to fuck you.

now, she understand why you can’t fucking talk whenever she’s fucking you because she’s having trouble uttering a word.

“are you good, baby?” you reach for abby, cradling her freckled cheeks in the palm of your gentle hands. you’re trying your best to make an effort, but it’s difficult.

she’s so deep, thrusting her hips into you deliciously, biting her pretty pink lips in concentration. blue eyes morphed to gray as she gives what you can take. it’s too much for you to handle. almost.

“yeah honey, i’m good. why wouldn’t i be?” she leans down to kiss your pretty lips. abby devours you completely trying to convince you she’s fine but then she whimpers.

quite pathetically.

“mhm, knew you would like it.” you say with a smirk on your face.

abby’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but it holds as much weight as a feather. you lift your hips up to meet hers causing her to mouth to drop open, a whimper of your name falling from your girlfriend’s lips.

“shut up.” abby grits her teeth as the cock wedges further inside her, moans bubbling in her mouth and she isn’t sure how much longer she can control it.

you can see the faint hint of a smile. abby knows you’re right but she would never admit. too proud to be a whimpering mess but you’ll get her there. the way her abs clench is a clear indication. this is fucking effecting her, not being able to focus on you. simply overpowered by the way her cunt is getting fucked.

for you, it’s a beautiful sight to see.

“not as easy to take as it is to give it, huh?” you move your hips up again, the dildo reaching further inside her cunt. strong thighs beginning to tremble.

“fuck, ah, shit baby.” abby begins to whimper like you’ve never heard her before. never this vocal to you, ever. it’s a beautiful symphony personally crafted for you. secretly, you hope this wouldn’t be the last time.

you needed more of her her, like this.

“oh? my baby likes being fucked like this? mommy’s taking my cock like a pretty little slut. being s’good.” abby’s trying to fuck you, fuck, she really is. but it seems impossible. tonight, the power shifted in the air and she can’t hide how much she loves it.

you’re used to this feeling and she’s simply not.

the blonde pushes herself further into you, letting the dildo slide deeper, until she’s hiding her face in the crook of your neck. gentle moans being smothered against your skin.

“fuck…take it, baby. wanna see my pretty girl cum. m’kay?” abby can’t control herself as her body shakes. you’re splitting her entire being in half. you’re so perfect for her. fucking her so unimaginably good, it feels like a figment of her imagination.

so, abby gives herself. she’s never done it before, not like this, but it’s done easily and without resistance. she lets herself groan at the fingers woven in her hair tugging at the root. she rests her hand on your waist gently instead of making a pretty necklace around your throat. she’s lost in whatever this is, craving to be fed more of everything you have to offer.

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. — 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒐 𝒌𝒐𝒔𝒌𝒊 ˒ ⊹

series synopsis. your friend, your pal, your fuck buddy—sampo koski seems to be getting closer and closer with every heated exchange. you wonder, briefly, if there’s something more lurking under the surface of it all. you have a strict rule set in place, though: don’t catch feelings.

[ don't you trust me masterlist | next chapter. ]

syn. you remember the beginning of your relationship with sampo koski, and think about where you're currently at now. sampo surprises you when he asks if you'd like to stay the night... and to your own surprise, you agree. (6.8k)

cw. fem reader / piv intercourse / marking / creampie / alcohol + drinking / spit mention / usage of the petnames doll & dollface, pretty girl, pretty, sweetheart, baby / slight mention of a size diff between sampo and reader (sampo is implied to be bigger than reader) / oral (f!receiving) / fingering / praise

love, oak! ༉‧₊˚. HELLO HI. FIRST CHAPTER. i am genuinely SOOO FUCKING EXCITED but also i'm actually very scared to be posting this bc this project is my BABY but OFSJDHGHAERFSHDGK FUCK IT WE BAAALLLLL!!!!!!!

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

It’s a rhythmic sound, aligning with the harsh creak of the bed as Sampo Koski’s hips snap into you with reckless abandon. It’s a carnal exchange, one involving sweat slicked bodies and teeth scraping against tender, sensitive flesh; it’s never been a slow, loving event. It’s always a release of stress.

Nothing more than that.

“Fuck—fuck me, please, don’t stop!” Your breath leaves you in a shuddering gasp. Pleasure zips through you, coursing from your dizzy head to your curled toes, leaving you absolutely molten.

Sampo heeds your calls, his pace never faltering for a second as he holds your hips in a bruising grip. You’re left there to grasp at the bed sheets, rake your nails down his back, lay there and take it as Sampo basks in the feeling of your soaked cunt pulsing around his cock.

“Gonna cum, pretty? C���mon, do it for Sampo, yeah?”

He had an awful habit of referring to himself in third person. It was a habit of his that you hated—not that it really mattered in this moment, when your brain was melting from the pleasure. You feel your core tightening with every passing second. You wanted to. You wanted to cum.

“Fuuuuck,” you drawl, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he draws a hand between the two of you to play with your aching clit. “Don’t stop. ‘m close, please, please,” you beg, a pretty sound that has Sampo growling.

And he doesn’t stop—he grows even more erratic in his thrusts, pushing you over the edge as his lips close around the sensitive skin of your neck. He’s always been a fan of leaving marks; possessive to a fault even if you weren’t officially his.

As you convulse around him, a sob of pleasure falling from your lips, Sampo is groaning and clutching you tight as his hips stutter. He cums, hard, thick ropes of seed shooting inside you as he pushes deep into your cunt.

He’s always had a habit of doing that, too. This one, you hated slightly less.

The two of you pant heavily as you come down from your respective highs. You clutch Sampo tightly, breasts rising and falling with every breath you take. He lets out a low laugh, content to let you hold him tightly as you bask in your post-orgasm high.

And as you come down, you reminisce.

Steam curls in the air as the pot on the stovetop boils water. You’re in the middle of your habitual tea time, getting ready to make yourself a warm cup to enjoy while you indulge in the latest book you’ve purchased for yourself when you hear your phone ping with a notification.

Your eye twitches as you spy who it’s from.

sampo: hey, pretty. mind meeting me at the usual spot real quick? i have something i need to ask you you: what could you possibly need to ask me that can’t be sent over text? you: sampo? you: sampoooo? you: you bitch. (read)

“Sampo.”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

The drawl of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You’re supposed to be mad at him for interrupting your tea, though, so you continue with annoyance filling your tone, “What the hell was that cryptic message for? You can never be straight up with me, can you?”

Sampo taps his chin thoughtfully. Then he shrugs. “Some things are best left unwritten… and this particular favor, I’d really like to ask you in person.”

There’s a shit-eating grin on his face, and his tone is one that has you shifting back and forth on your feet. Sampo has always been an enigma to you, a jigsaw puzzle you could never quite figure out. It honestly irked you to no end that you couldn’t read him like you could everyone else.

The ambience of the bar you liked to frequent consumed the silence between you and Sampo. You take a second to claim the seat beside him and order your usual drink, crossing your legs as you give him a once-over.

Sampo’s clad in his usual outfit, his unruly two-toned hair tied back messily, exposing the nape of his neck to the humid atmosphere of the room. Your eyes seem to linger there momentarily before you meet his gaze, emerald pools glimmering with mischief and something more you can’t quite put your finger on.

You make a face at him. His grin widens in response and you roll your eyes.

“Alright. What’s this oh-so important favor, then?”

Sampo’s grin, to your surprise, lessens into a sheepish one. He averts his gaze in favor of knocking back his drink. He looks back to you.

“Ah, well… I was thinking—”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Sampo.” You interject.

Sampo’s lips twitched slightly. “If you would so kindly let me gather my thoughts...” He takes in a breath, a brief pause as he turns over the words he wanted to say before he continues.

“You’ve been telling me about how you’ve been so wound up with stress lately.” He clasps his hands together, rubbing them together in the way he does when he starts kissing ass. “And I was thinking, what if I did you a little favor? I could relieve it for you, if you’d like.”

You wait for more elaboration from him, but it doesn’t come. You raise an eyebrow. “What, exactly, are you suggesting here?”

Silence. Then: “How about we become friends with benefits?”

You gawk at him. His eyes catch on the way your lips part and press together, covered in a pretty sheen of gloss. You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around what he just suggested to notice the lingering hunger in his gaze.

You quickly search for a distraction—noticing that the bartender had slid over your drink without you realizing, you quickly swipe it up and start chugging. You think you hear a chuckle from Sampo in the background.

Once you’re satisfied (you had practically downed your entire drink in one go), savoring the burn of the alcohol that lingers in your throat, you wipe the corner of your lips with a thumb and turn back towards him. He’s still looking at you. Had he even looked at anything else while you were busy regaining your bearings?

It doesn’t matter. Your eyes narrow at him and you cross your arms. “What’s in it for you?”

Sampo seemed to have expected your suspicion, because he doesn’t miss a beat when he answers, “I get the same as you—an outlet for stress relief. Let me take care of you, pretty girl.”

The way he purrs his chosen pet-name for you sends a shiver running down your spine. You try to hide the way your thighs press together. The prospect of having sex with Sampo… it’s not entirely a notion you’d reject. Objectively, he’s fine as hell, with pretty green eyes and a slim waist, powerful shoulders and a broad back you think you’d like to rake your nails down. You bite your lip.

Okay, sure. Why the fuck not? Regardless of whether or not there was alcohol currently addling your brain, there’s no way you lose in this situation. Unless…

You hold up a hand. “Alright. I have a couple conditions though.”

Sampo nods, and his silence is enough to have you plowing forward with your thoughts. “No strings attached. I don’t want feelings involved. This is purely physical. And…” You purse your lips, searching for the words you wanted to say. After a moment you add quickly, “no kissing. That’s far too intimate, I think.”

“Fair enough,” he muses. “Any other lines you’d like to draw?”

He agreed to that almost immediately—while that should please you, it instead leaves a sick feeling swirling in your stomach and you’re not quite sure why. You chalk it up to the alcohol you had very intelligently decided to chug, and you lean against the bar as you ponder his question.

“No, I think that’s it.” You finally respond. Sampo briefly reaches out his hand for a handshake, but thinks better of it and retracts his hand quickly in favor of rising from the barstool he was perched on.

He grins down at you and holds out that hand again, this time in offering to you. “Shall we?”

“Ah—this starts tonight, then?”

“When else would it, doll? I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. Only you can help me scratch this itch.” He winks at you. You roll your eyes, but accept his hand anyways, gracefully coming to your feet.

Despite yourself, you feel your face warm as the two of you stare at each other, neither of you making the first move. You shouldn’t be embarrassed—this was Sampo, of all people—but here you were, suddenly shy. You glance away quickly, but after drawing up a bit of courage you chance a peek up at Sampo and find that there’s a pretty pink flush dusting over his cheeks. It makes you feel a sense of satisfaction. You weren’t the only one flustered here.

Sampo rubs the back of his neck, then he ventures, “so… would my place be okay?”

You stifle a giggle at how awkwardly he asks, deciding to spare him the pain of silence as you immediately nod your head. “Okay, sounds good. Let’s go.”

Sampo’s place is… neater than you thought it would be.

Actually, you don’t really know what you were expecting. It wasn’t necessarily a shithole in the slums you were imagining, but… ah, it didn’t matter.

It’s sparsely decorated, just a few trinkets here and there scattered amongst the comfy furniture adorning the living space. You pause in the doorway as you take it all in. You thought he would be more… of the hoarding sort. Guess Sampo is full of surprises tonight.

Which, speaking of Sampo:

“Well? I won’t bite doll, promise—I mean, unless you want me to.”

Sampo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning a swift kick to his shins as you take another step in. He lets out a dramatic ‘oof,’ which draws a giggle from you, to his delight.

“We’ll see,” is all you say as you close and lock the door behind you.

It’s awkward as the two of you navigate through his home, much to your chagrin, but you were completely unsure of how to proceed. All you really knew was the exact reason you were here, the thought sending your heart beating a mile a minute as you focus on keeping your breathing steady.

You were positive Sampo knew how much of a mess you felt like right now though, because he startles you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, okay pretty girl? You just let me know if it’s ever too much.”

Your lip quivers as you look up at him. His face softens even more at the anxiety you finally let shine through when you whisper, “Okay.”

The hand resting on your shoulder drifts down to the small of your back, ghosting gently along your spine as he takes on guiding you to his room, maneuvering you to the foot of his bed where you hesitantly take a seat.

He hums thoughtfully as he searches for the words he wants to say. Another moment passes, then suddenly—“Do you trust me?”

You blink owlishly. Then, you nod your head.

“I need to hear a verbal confirmation, dollface.”

The dominance in his tone has your back straightening—and much to your surprise, heat swirling in your core. You bite your lip. “I trust you, Sampo.”

“Good girl. You just let me take the reins, okay? All you gotta do is sit back and relax.”

You nod your head. Sampo takes a step towards you but only stares, his eyes narrowing in challenge. You quickly realize what he wants and you stammer out a quick ‘yes’ before he’s descending upon you, gently pushing your shoulders in a silent command to lay back against the mattress.

You’re pliant to his whims, lying back against the plush bedding as he leans over you, breath ghosting over your face as if he’s about to kiss you—then he’s remembering your request, inching lower to press his lips to the smooth column of your neck. He draws out a soft moan from you as you feel his tongue dip against your skin, the scrape of his teeth as he drags his mouth lower, towards your collarbone.

“Your skin tastes divine, sweetheart. I wonder how much better it is down here.”

His sinful words are accompanied by a roll of his hips against your center, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden friction. You squirm, hands coming up to clutch his shoulders as he smirks down at you.

You meet his smug gaze with narrowed eyes. Two could play at this game. You roll your hips back up against his, achingly slow, savoring the way Sampo’s eyelids flutter shut as he presses back against you.

“Don’t tease me,” you breathe. “Or I’ll do it right back.”

Sampo’s lips curl up in a smile, a pure predator looking down at you. “Yeah?”

You nod your head, eyebrows furrowing with displeasure as you meet his heated stare. It takes everything in you not to grind up against him again—desperate for any sort of friction. Sampo’s smile only widens.

“Alright, alright, I get the message. I won’t torment you for too long, okay? Sampo’ll take good care of ya.”

You make a feeble attempt at kicking him, but he’s quicker than you, pinning your legs with his strong thighs—you can see the muscles flex under the fabric of his pants at the effort. You can’t help the way your mouth drops open a fraction.

Okay, maybe you were attracted to Sampo. When he kept his mouth shut.

“Don’t refer to yourself in third person, you freak.”

“Or what?” Sampo leans closer to you, face to face. His warm breath mingles with yours—and he’s close to you, so close, leaning and leaning and—

He’s got you distracted as a hand slips under the fabric of your shirt, slithering up your stomach until he reaches what he was aiming for. He palms the soft flesh of your tit and you moan, glowering up at him as he smirks in response.

“Pay attention, pretty. Don’t want you to miss a single thing.”

You glare up at him as he smiles prettily down at you, the portrait of innocence—well, as innocent as he can be with the lust-drunk gaze he drags over your body as he slowly pushes up your shirt with another hand. With a little bit of maneuvering he pulls the fabric off of you, leaving you in your bra and the miniskirt you opted to wear out to see him.

Sampo bites his lip, running his hand over the curves of your body. Then he’s peeling away your skirt as well, humming in satisfaction as you lift your hips for him, leaving goosebumps along the skin of your legs as his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh. You watch as he drops the fabric slowly, his sharp gaze roving slowly over your figure.

“Aeons, sweetheart. You look so good.” Sampo hisses quietly as he palms at the bulge in his pants. Your eyes immediately catch on the movement.

He’s hard. And from what little you can glean, he’s big, too. You swallow.

Sampo’s smile grows feline. “What’re you lookin’ at, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. Sampo tuts quietly, but doesn’t push—not yet.

Sampo pulls off his shirt in a swift movement. Unbuckles his belt with one hand. You sit up on your elbows—not just to watch him strip unobstructed, you tell yourself—as you take in the view of Sampo, of his broad shoulders and strong biceps, the smooth skin of his chest, down his abs, and… is that a happy trail? It most certainly is. You really hope you’re not drooling.

“Now, don’t get shy on me now. It’s far too late for that.” You hear Sampo chuckle darkly. “C’mon, you can be honest. You like the view?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

You hesitate. It was going to come out one way or another, so you ultimately decide to be truthful with him and nod your head. His smile only widens.

“Good girl, bein’ honest. How about I reward you, huh?”

You don’t have time to ask questions; he doesn’t grant you any. He grasps your ankle and pulls you to the edge of the bed where he kneels, face level with the pretty lace underwear you adorn. You let out a squeak of surprise, your face heating with embarrassment as you realize just how vulnerable this position made you. His large hands grasp at your thighs, pushing them open as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Hey—” you start with a gasp, eyes wide as you look down at him. He smiles coyly when he catches your gaze.

“You trust me, don’t ya? Just relax,” he purrs. His fingers trace the hemline of your panties, drawing a shiver from you. Biting your lip, you take his advice and lean back, watching him raptly as he kisses the inside of your thigh. You feel your chest tighten with desire.

“Pretty,” the pet-name rolls off his tongue smoothly, dripping with honey-sweet desire. “You’re already so soaked for me. Look at you.” His finger glides up your lace-covered slit. You let out a whimper in response.

He takes his time with you, holding you open with one hand as the other drifts up over your navel, around the hem of your panties, dipping under the elastic seam and snapping it back against your skin. He tugs at it gently, once, twice, then he’s pulling it down, leaving the fabric to dangle around the ankle hooked over his shoulder. He leans forward to press a kiss to the apex of your thighs.

“Sampo…” You breathe out. You’re clutching at the sheets below you in a white-knuckled grip, your ribs expanding with the deep, shuddering inhale you take in as his eyes make contact with yours.

“You’re fucking dripping for me, baby,” he all but groans. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You’re just about on the verge of begging for something, any kind of stimulation from him, when his eyes flick back down. He’s suddenly pressing his mouth to your cunt, tongue laving up your center. It feels like you’ve been electrified, nerves alight with white-hot pleasure; you nearly jump at the contact. His grip shifts to your hips, holding you down as he devours you like a man starved.

Your head tips back as you moan wantonly. It’s maddening and satisfying all at once—his tongue strokes at your clit, dips into you and drags back out slowly, teasingly. You look back down at him through the haze of pleasure, finding intense pools of emerald staring right back at you, drinking in your every reaction like it was the sweetest nectar.

“Sampo,” his name falls from your lips almost reverently. The effect it has on him is almost instantaneous—his grip tightens on you and he’s eating you out with a renewed fervor, bringing you ever closer to the brink. As you dangle dangerously on that precipice, you bring a hand down to twine through the soft locks of his navy hair, panting with the effort of prolonging the moment. Not yet. Not yet.

The groan he lets out when you tug on his hair makes your core tighten even more.

“Baby,” he rasps as he pulls away, warm breath fanning over your sensitive slit. The sight is filthy: there’s a thin trail of saliva still connecting you to him, your slick shining on his chin in the pale moonlight that filters in through the curtains. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your chest heaves as you reply breathlessly, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He pauses, his head dipping slightly as he presses a gentle kiss to your clit. Your hips buck again, restrained by the hand that grips you tightly. “Do you want to feel even better?”

You nod your head, the word ‘yes’ falling from your lips in a desperate plea.

Sampo smiles, his free hand coming up slowly, so so slowly, his tongue darting out to coat his fingers in his saliva. His eyes never leave yours—no, he wanted you to watch this lewd display. Watch as his tongue runs over spit-slicked knuckles, watch as he lowered his hand to your aching pussy.

“Fuck,” you whine as he eases his fingers into you easily, crooking and prodding—searching. Looking for the spot that drives you crazy. A moan rips from your throat, head falling back as Sampo’s lips close around your clit, sucking and licking in tandem with his fingers that were working you just right.

When they curl in the most perfect way, you have to stop yourself from closing your legs around his head with a sharp inhale. You miss the way his eyes light up with a feral sort of excitement—knowing he’s found the spot that makes you come apart so perfectly. And he exploits that spot, again and again and again, making you delirious with the white-hot pleasure he inflicts upon you.

It’s not long before you’re shoved off the edge, freefalling into a world-shattering orgasm that has your back arching as you let out a sob of pleasure. Sampo laps lazily at you through your orgasm, making you jolt with the after-shocks as he drags his tongue over your now too-sensitive clit.

“Atta girl,” Sampo croons, withdrawing his fingers with a lewd squelch. You squirm as you feel the cool air hit your slick covered thighs. “That feel good?”

Dazed, you nod your head. You feel the heavy weight of Sampo hover over you, consuming your senses as his lips press against your neck. Sometime between him giving you perhaps one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had and now, he’s shucked off his pants, now clad only in his boxers. They’re stained with pre, you note with satisfaction, his cock straining against the fabric. You slip a hand down, trailing lower and lower until your fingers brush over his erection.

Sampo groans softly. The noise fills you with a tidal wave of desire; you find yourself wanting to hear what other noises you can draw out of him. You start to palm him gently, fingers caressing the impressive length of him through the thin cotton material. Sampo makes a low noise in his throat.

“Doll… you’re driving me crazy here.” Sampo utters, inhaling sharply when you squeeze.

“What’s wrong, Sampo? ‘m not doing anything.” You smile coyly as you continue to tease him.

His eyes glint with predatory intent, his hand shooting down to grab your wrist when he decides you’ve had enough fun toying with him.

Looks like his patience has run out. Not that he had that much to even begin with.

Sampo releases your wrist in favor of tugging his boxers down, his cock springing out and slapping obscenely against his abs. He’s… oh, Aeons, you weren’t even sure he would fit.

It’s like he can read the thought plain as day on your face because he purrs, “I’ll take it nice and easy, baby. Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

He nudges your legs open as he kneels between them, hands grasping your hips gently as he readjusts you. Your eyes widen as he spits in his hand and brings it down to pump himself—the lewd display makes your thighs clench.

Despite your apprehension, you couldn’t help the heady desperation that swirled in your core, the electrifying desire zipping through your veins—you wanted him. Bad.

“It’ll feel real good pretty girl, okay? All you have to do is trust me.” Sampo says soothingly. Then he’s pressing the blunt head of his cock against your slit, dragging it along your folds slowly, coating himself in the arousal dripping from you. The tip catches against your clit deliciously, making you whine softly. You needed more.

“If you don’t fuck me now,”—your breath hitches as he finally pushes in, barely breaching your drooling pussy—”I’ll go insane.”

“I gotcha, pretty. Just be patient.” Sampo holds your hips as he presses further into you. The stretch burns; but it’s the delicious kind of pain, the one that makes you want to beg for more.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, his muffled groan vibrating against you. He’s trembling, you think—holding back the urge to just fuck you already. While you appreciate the thought, you think you might genuinely, actually, go insane if he doesn’t start fucking your brains out soon.

“Sampo,” you rasp, hips bucking slightly. “I can take it. Please, please—need it so bad.”

His hips twitch. One heartbeat passes—then two.

“Sampo.” You whine again. Your fingers clutch his shoulder blades, nails digging into the flesh none too gently.

He breathes in deeply. The only warning you get is him readjusting his grip; he snaps his hips, thrusting all the way in. It tears a moan from your throat, walls pulsing around his girth as he bottoms out, balls slapping lewdly against the plushness of your ass. You’re both groaning, your nails digging even harder into him as he pulls out slowly, then snaps his hips again, starting a crude rhythm that drains all sense from your head.

All you can manage is a heady moan of his name, the pleasure threatening to pull you under like the strong current of a riptide. You could almost drown in it.

“So good,” you babble, chest bouncing with every thrust into you. It rips the air from your lungs, lighting a fire inside of you, on the brink of burning you from the inside out with the intensity of just how fucking good he’s making you feel.

His skin is slick with sweat, pressing and sliding against your own as he pounds you mercilessly into the soft bed beneath you. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, wild and alight with desire.

“Takin’ me so well,” Sampo groans, hips stuttering as you clamp around him involuntarily. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

A sob falls from your lips as he slows to a tortuous grind, dragging his cock along your pulsing walls. You feel your core tightening, aching, begging for more, more, more.

“I’ll give you more, pretty girl, don’t you worry,” Sampo replies. You didn’t think you had said it out loud, but he doesn’t give you any time to think about it because he’s grabbing the backs of your knees and pressing them back against your chest.

The new position has stars swimming in your vision as he pistons into you, the vulgar sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in your ear as he all but folds you in half. You think you might really die. Your head is spinning. You can’t even form a coherent thought anymore—you’re quite literally filled to the brim with Sampo. You don’t think you ever want it to stop.

You feel tears prick your eyes as you’re overwhelmed with the molten pleasure coursing through your veins. He’s fucking you relentlessly, even through the orgasm that hits you like a freight-train, so sudden that you damn near pass out.

“Fuck yeah—cum for me, pretty. You’re doing so fucking well.”

You feel Sampo throb inside you—he’s close, too, and you want him tumbling into oblivion with you—so you clench around him, walls still fluttering with the orgasm he’s fucking you through. He hisses, teeth gnashing together as he stifles his groan, pace growing unsteady and snappier until he’s suddenly pulling out, painting your burning skin with ropes of cum. It’s sticky, dripping in rivulets down your skin, but you can’t find it in you to be grossed out.

In fact, you think it’s a little hot.

He curses lowly, hips still twitching in the aftermath of his own climax. “Fuck, doll…” He pants. “Let me get you a towel.”

That was almost a year ago, you think. Heat creeps up your face at the memory of your first escapade with him.

You’ve had this sort of arrangement with Sampo for awhile, where the two of you will link up, fuck, and then go your separate ways, as simple as that. Sometimes it’s more planned, and you’ll end up in his bed for an hour or two, but other times, most times, it ends with your back against a brick wall in a desolate alley, or perhaps inside the nearest closet the two of you can find.

But lately, it’s been the former. He’s even been dining you beforehand, treating you to a nice meal before he fucks your brains out. And while you appreciate the sentiment, it’s been.. throwing you off, to put it simply.

You’re not quite sure what this means for the two of you. Maybe you can choose to ignore this development in this precarious relationship the two of you shared, always teetering on that fine line between lust and something that felt suspiciously like love.

Problem is… you’re not quite sure if you even wanted to ignore it.

You’re shaken from your thoughts when you hear the shower running, and the cold slams into you with a fierceness you’re completely unprepared for. Teeth clattering together as you shiver, you grab for the nearest blanket (you end up needing to grab the duvet—Sampo never kept extra blankets on the bed) and bundle yourself up. Once you feel warm enough, you roll out of the comfort of his bed, your feet padding softly on the carpet as you make your way to the bathroom. You find Sampo in there in all of his naked glory, who turns his head as he hears the quiet hiss of the blanket dragging against the floor.

He offers you a kind smile, completely unfazed as your eyes rove over him, none too discreetly. He says, “I thought I’d start the shower for you. Get it warmed up.”

You tilt your head to the side. “That’s okay, I can just shower when I get home…” Your voice trails off as you catch a glimpse of the city outside from the nearby window—the ground is blanketed in a sheet of white, and you can barely see a few feet away from the glass against the flurry of snow outside. You blink once, twice, and then look at Sampo again.

“Ah, about that…” Sampo rubs the back of his neck. “It’s pretty cold out. How about you stay the night with me? Won’t cost any extra to ya.” He winks at you. His feet are silent on the cool tiled floor as he slowly approaches you. “I’ll even sleep on the couch, if that’ll make you feel better about it.”

Despite the… close relationship you shared, you had never actually stayed the full night at Sampo’s. Maybe you’d linger an hour or two, but it had always ended in you making it home, slipping into the comfort of your own bed. This would be the first time sleeping in his. You feel your heart stutter as the thought runs through your mind.

Then you’re shaking your head at his offer—or more specifically, the latter part of it. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ll stay, but we can share the bed. We’ve been tangled up in it more than enough to manage just sleeping together in it.” You wryly smile at him. “Thank you, Sampo. I appreciate it.”

You’re slightly astonished at the blush that rises to his cheeks in response to your words. The sight makes warmth bloom in your chest and your heart skips a beat. It reminds you of the first time you had seen him blush, way back when you met him at the bar for that fateful conversation.

The warmth in your chest quickly freezes over as you remember the words exchanged right before that—the stupid rules that you had put in place yourself.

Because, you remember bitterly, this was supposed to be completely and utterly no strings attached. There was no room for the butterflies in your stomach, nor the way your breath hitches when he brushes a hand over your bare shoulder as he slowly slips the duvet from around you.

“Go on, shower first. I’ll be waiting out here for you.” Sampo smirks down at you. “Maybe we’ll go for round two, if you’re up for it.”

With a playful swat at his shoulder, you quickly herd him out of the bathroom. “Horny bastard. We’ll see.”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”

You can see him blow you a kiss as you shut the door, sliding the lock into place. You clutch your chest. You let your careful mask fall; as you turn to the mirror, you see something akin to desperation on your face shimmering in the reflection.

Maybe you’re in deep shit. Maybe you’ve been falling for awhile now, and you’ve been so stuck in your own head that it took until this very moment to truly grasp your own reality:

You have feelings for Sampo Koski.

With that realization swirling in your head, when you step into the shower, you quickly turn the temperature to cold.

When you emerge from the bathroom, wrapped only in a plush gray towel, you catch Sampo’s gaze from the bedroom almost immediately. You hold up a hand.

“Nuh-uh, no round two.” You simply say. He pouts for only a moment, quickly recovering and rolling out of bed. He immediately slinks up to you with folded clothes in hand.

“Hey now, I wasn’t gonna ask for anything! Here—these are for you to sleep in.” Sampo holds out the folded shirt and sweats. You accept it with a small thank you, and turn back for the bathroom to change.

There was something strangely intimate about putting on his clothes in front of him, so you quietly escape back to the bathroom. There’s no snarky retort or even any comment at all from Sampo, even as you shut the door, so you quickly slip on the clothes he gave you. You’d have to make do with going home in the snow tomorrow in the clothes you wore here, you think. Good thing you opted for your jeans instead of that skirt you wanted to wear.

Distracted, you glance up at the bathroom mirror and startle at the sight.

The sight of you in his shirt makes your stomach flip. His scent curls around you, musky and deep, and for some reason you feel… comforted. Almost like he was embracing you himself. You grip the bathroom counter with your free hand, white-knuckled. You wouldn’t think too hard about what, exactly, this feeling meant. No, you refused to. You would spiral down a dangerous train of thought otherwise; you couldn’t afford to do that when you’re about to sleep in the same bed as Sampo.

You could think about it tomorrow. Or perhaps the day after that. Or maybe even… never. You were happy to stay stagnant in this little bubble that contained you and him, where you weren’t really just friends anymore but you weren’t quite lovers, either. You were content to never let it change.

A knock on the door makes you jump.

“You okay in there, pretty girl? You’ve been in there for awhile.”

His muffled voice held a note of concern that makes your chest tighten. You feel your breath hitch.

“Yeah, uhm—sorry, just give me one more second, promise I’ll stop hogging the bathroom…”

“Take your time. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You hear his footsteps leave and you let out a breath. You could handle this. There was nothing romantic at all about just… sleeping. You would go to bed, then you would wake up and be on your way, and things will return back to the way they should be.

Surely.

With that thought, you slowly creep your way back to the bedroom, where you find Sampo nestled up in his bed already. You catch yourself smiling a little bit.

“Sampo, leave some blanket for me, you pig.”

You hear him snort quietly as you slide into bed beside him. There’s ample room in his bed, and as you curl up on your side, tucking yourself under the plush duvet, you hear him mumble quietly, “Goodnight, pretty girl. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Sampo.”

You cannot, for the life of you, fucking sleep.

It’s hard to, when right at your back there’s a warm mass slumbering—and even though you count every breath he takes like counting sheep, you’re still wide awake. It felt like your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute.

You’re going to lose your mind at this rate.

Turning onto your back, you stare at the blank ceiling, pushing the blanket down to your midsection as you once again make a fruitless attempt at falling asleep. You know it’s futile to even try, with your heart racing in that familiar way that it did when you were tangled up with Sampo, but fuck, all you wanted to do was sleep.

Rustling makes you freeze.

And then you hear him shifting—when you turn your head to look at him, you catch pools of deep jade green staring back at you. Sampo groggily smiles at you. “Hey.”

You start, clutching the blanket as if it were some kind of shield. He snorts as he observes you.

“Sampo… why’re you awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replies, followed quickly by a yawn. You feel the urge to yawn tickle at the back of your throat before you’re following suite, bringing up a hand to cover your face.

Sampo chuckles. “You’re not sleepy, pretty? Need Sampo to tire you out real quick?”

You glower at his simpering smile, hitting his shoulder with no real force behind it. “No. I’m okay, I just… never really have an easy time sleeping anywhere that isn’t my own bed.”

He hums in understanding. Then he’s mirroring you, shifting to lie on his back, but instead he stares at the ceiling. Your eyes linger on him a little bit longer before you’re looking up too.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks softly.

You say after a moment of consideration, “I can’t tell you that.”

Sampo doesn’t miss a beat. “Why not?”

You shake your head, the movement hissing against the soft fabric of the pillowcase beneath you. “It’s… personal.”

Sampo snorts again. “I thought we were way past personal boundaries by now.”

Physically, yes, but… emotionally? You don’t voice the thought out loud. Instead you reply, “We are, yes, but um… I dunno.”

Silence. It lingers between you, not entirely uncomfortable, but it’s… tense. You glance back over at Sampo again.

His gaze flicks over to you.

“Do you trust me?”

The phrase lights up a moment of recognition within you—a phrase he’s uttered so many times; as he guides you, tugs you along with his whims, while he takes you—

Your throat bobs as you swallow. Your answer has never changed. “Yes.”

The sheets are rustling. Then, strong arms pull you towards a broad chest, wrapping you in their embrace; you’re responding immediately, lips parting in a silent gasp. Your brain is slower than your heart—you’re curling up against the warmth of him despite your better judgement. You feel the vibrations of his quiet chuckle reverberate through him, through you, echoing deep in your bones as you start to laugh with him.

“If you don’t want to talk, I understand,” Sampo breathes, lips brushing against the crown of your head. “But at least let me hold you. Let me offer you something to take your mind off of things. I want you to get some rest.”

Your hand rests against his pec—he slept shirtless, oh fuck—as you nestle closer to him, legs intertwining with his. You’re tangled together with him again, but this time it’s in a quiet way. Innocent. You find that you don’t mind this.

He doesn’t either, if the way he holds you closer is any indication. He has a strong arm looped around your waist, the other having snaked it’s way under your head, and you think that his bicep doesn’t make too bad of a pillow. It draws a smile to your lips.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll try.”

Curled up in the warmth of Sampo, you finally drift.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[lotus-pear]

when drawing soft skk it's important to get good references *googles pics of kitty cats cuddling*

[ylissebian]

PHIL DAY PHIL DAY PHIL DAY

@amazingphil thanks for shaping my personality for the last decade may u have the loveliest birthday ^_^

[pradabambie]

the roommate. rafe cameron x reader x felix catton. pt. 2

masterlist

rafe's impending arrival had you on your toes. excitement to see your boyfriend was intertwined with worry about the whole felix situation – you knew all too well how protective rafe could get. 

"and... this is my room! nice and cozy, isn't it?" you said, opening the door for rafe. as he entered, he glanced around, noting the neatly organized chaos of college life. 

“oh," he remarked after noticing the extra bed, "i didn't know you had a roommate." his brow furrowed in surprise. 

before you could respond, the door swung open, and felix walked in, absorbed in a phone conversation. 

“no, ollie, i swear to god, her friend is hot, i swear-" felix gushed, turning around to close the door, finally facing the room and noticing the strange boy's presence.  

"ollie, i'll call you back. hey mate, felix catton, pleasure to meet you. i assume you’re the boyfriend, yeah?” felix greeted him with a wide smile, while you shot him a look, silently urging him to say the right thing. 

“rafe cameron” he simply said, extending his right hand. felix ignored it and went in for a hug. 

however, rafe quickly shot a glance at you, then back at felix, and finally at the two beds. the realization hit him, and a flicker of annoyance and anger crossed his face. 

“wait, you’re the roommate?” rafe looked straight at you, his face now red, and his jaw tight. 

you tried to lighten the mood with a light laugh, but it only seemed to fuel rafe's anger.  

“look, babe, long story short, felix's room flooded, and my assigned roommate never showed, so here we are.” 

you took rafe’s hand, praying a little physical touch would calm him down. 

“i swear, it’s no big deal” 

felix stood quietly, a goofy smile on his face that almost made it seem like he was enjoying the entire thing. his carefree attitude clashed with the undercurrent of tension you felt.  

“right lex?” with pleading eyes, you looked at felix, begging him to say something, anything. 

"yeah don't worry, mate. no funny business here—cross my heart." 

felix's attempt at reassurance didn't seem to appease rafe's growing displeasure. the air thickened with tension, but felix, seemingly unfazed, broke the silence. 

"so, rafe, what brings you to our humble abode?" felix's tone was lighthearted, though his eyes held a mischievous glint. 

rafe, still visibly perturbed, replied, "just missed my girlfriend you know." as he spoke, he sidled closer to you, placing his hand on the small of your back, as if subtly marking his territory.  

felix raised an eyebrow, catching the shift in rafe's demeanor. 

"hey, why don't we spice things up a bit? there's a party tonight. what do you say, the three of us? get to know each other a bit better?"  

you shot felix a warning look, implicitly asking him to tread carefully.  

the boy, however, continued with his flirty charm, directing his next words toward you. 

"come on, love, it'll be a blast. your boyfriend here can get to know me outside this mess," felix winked, his tone playful, referring to the disorganized room the three of you stood in. 

rafe with a reluctant nod, he agreed to the plan. "fine, we'll go to your damn party." 

felix's grin widened, sensing a victory of sorts. "brilliant! it's a date, then. i'll meet you both after dinner, see ya!" 

felix sauntered out of the room, leaving you alone with rafe. sensing his frustration, you approached him, offering a reassuring smile. 

"hey, don't let it bother you. felix is harmless, he’s just a bit quirky," you reassured, planting a quick kiss on your boyfriend's lips, relishing the sensation of his presence that you had missed so much. 

rafe sighed, his tension melting away. "i missed you, you know." 

you grinned, "i missed you too." 

as the two of you settled on the bed, rafe's smile began to appear on his lips. simultaneously, his hands started exploring your body, the touch turning you more and more needy of him. 

“so, how much time do you think we have until the party?” 

“enough.” 

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[poscariastri]

my dumbass could NOT be a sports interviewer