lazylittledragon · 2 months ago
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ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????
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citricacidprince · 1 month ago
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can you draw candy as fiddleford. plz plz plz OuO
Oh believe me I have,,, SO MUCH ART of Candy as Fiddleford she literally drives me wild
Take this massive dump of art of young Candy and Dipper because they made lose my mind in the best way possible 💥💛💥
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EDIT: A kind soul named DastardlyWLW decoded all the codes in the replies because I was an idiot who forgot to write down all the codes before I merged my layers, so if you wanna know what the codes all say just look in the replies and thank them for saving my sorry ass 💥💛💥💛💥
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seefasterdraws · 8 months ago
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from the homumiko mines
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gale-force-storm · 6 months ago
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Devoured
Rating: E
Pairing: Gale x female!Reader
Additional Tags: Overstimulation, cunnilingus, praise kink, cock warming, aftercare, second person POV
Word Count: 1.8k
Read it on AO3
You thought it would be a great anniversary gift, letting Gale tie you up and do whatever he pleased with you. What you didn't expect (foolishly, in hindsight) was for "whatever he pleased" to mean spending literal hours using that practiced tongue of his to take you apart.
Inspired by this post from the always delightful @naughtybg3confessions
“You're sure you're alright with this?”
“Yes, Gale,” you insist with a small laugh. “I am the one who suggested this, remember?”
“I know, I know. I just want to make sure.” He finishes tying the soft length of fabric around your wrists, securing them to the headboard above you. “How is that? Comfortable? Not too tight?”
You pull at the restraints, testing them. “Feels good,” you confirm. “Secure, but not too tight.”
“Good.” He smiles and leans down, kissing you gently.
“Well, your anniversary present is all tied up in a bow for you,” you say with a devious grin when he pulls away. “I’m all yours, sweetheart. Do your worst.”
“Be careful what you wish for, my love. I just might grant it,” he teases. He kisses you again, but his mouth quickly strays away from yours, moving over your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He teases at your nipples, mouth on one, fingers on the other, lingering briefly before continuing his path down.
“Gale,” you sigh, half pleased and half exasperated, “this is supposed to be about your pleasure.”
“Trust me my love,” he replies, smirking against your skin, “it will be.”
You huff out another breath, letting your head drop back. You’ll indulge him for now. Besides, you think at the first warm press of his mouth to your center, you would never truly complain about getting to have his mouth on you.
He pauses briefly to grab a spare pillow and position it under your hips, raising them higher for easier access. He pulls your legs up, resting your thighs over his shoulders, and kisses one of them before turning his attention back to your cunt, where your arousal is already obvious.
“Always so wet for me,” he sighs appreciatively. “So eager.”
“Always for you, my love.”
He beams up at you, all love and wonder and pride. “Truly, I could ask for no greater gift than you.”
He leans in, licking from your entrance up to your clit, humming his pleasure. He licks a few more times like this, broad strokes of his tongue, savoring you, and you settle back into the warm, familiar pleasure. You moan in encouragement as he slips his tongue into you, his nose pressing against your clit. Yes, you can certainly let him do this for a while. Since he’s insisting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You fear you’ve miscalculated. You really should have known better than to underestimate Gale. There are tears running down your face. Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning. You would try to squirm away from the inescapable, overwhelming pleasure of his tongue, his lips, his fingers, but you’re too tired at this point from doing so for the last... how long has it been? Two hours? Three? More? You’ve lost track, just like you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come against his relentless mouth. He gives another calculated thrust of his fingers, another hard suck to your clit, and you cry out, overstimulation bringing the pleasure near the edge of pain.
“Please, Gale, please, I can’t,” you pant. He looks up, but doesn’t pull his mouth more than an inch away from you.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Gods, but his warm breath against your soaked flesh makes you shiver. You can only bring yourself to whine.
“I need your words, love. Do you want me to stop?” he asks firmly.
You work to catch your breath and try to remember how to form words.
“No,” you finally manage to whimper. “Don’t stop.” You see the corners of Gale’s eyes crinkle with his smile.
“Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. You sob, overwhelmed, as he continues his sweet torture, lapping at your cunt like a man starved as though he hasn’t been devouring you for hours. Your hips twitch weakly as you feel the pressure impossibly begin to mount once more, building under his skilled attention. You flutter around him and he moans, the vibrations pulling another sob from your throat.
“That’s it, lovely,” he murmurs as he works you. “One more. You can give me one more can’t you?”
You shake your head, but the rest of your body tells a different story, your legs twitching beyond your control where they rest over his shoulders, hips bucking without rhythm.
“I think you can,” he continues. “I think you can have another for me. Let me taste the sweetness of your pleasure once more.”
You moan, high and strained, as your body moves ever closer to that precipice. You feel delirious, on the edge of madness as much as the edge of pleasure. Gale is ruthlessly efficient as he pushes you on, sucking and licking your clit eagerly as his fingers rub precisely at the spot inside you that makes your head spin. The choked sound you make as you finish once again is somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Gale groans deeply as you clench weakly around his fingers, muscles too tired for more than a weak, fluttering orgasm. He laps at you softly, working you through it with loving tenderness. Finally, he pulls away. You whine helplessly at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you. He sucks them clean, then presses a few kisses to your shaking thighs before moving up your body to hover over you. His face is soaked from nose to chin, lips and beard glistening with your slick. He kisses you hotly, and the usual taste of him is completely drowned out by the taste of your own arousal. He runs a warm hand up your arm and rubs gently at your wrists.
“How are your hands?” he asks gently. “Still alright? Can you move them for me?”
It takes a long moment for your addled brain to process his question, but with some effort you manage to wiggle your fingers.
“F-fine,” you stutter weakly. “They’re fine.”
He pulls the fabric up slightly, inspecting the skin. You don’t know what he sees, but he seems to be satisfied with it because he nods once, then turns his attention back to your face. He kisses your cheeks with a gentleness that nearly makes you cry again, and wipes the remaining wetness from them with his thumbs.
“You’re so lovely,” he murmurs. “So beautiful. You’re doing so well. So good for me. My good girl. My sweet, wonderful girl. Taking everything I give you so perfectly. Letting me drink my fill of you. Making such pretty sounds for me while I taste you to my heart’s content. Falling apart so beautifully for me, over and over. Do you think you can take a bit more for me, my good girl? You can say no,” he says, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I would love to be inside you, but we can stop if it’s too much.”
You swallow hard, considering for a few seconds. Slowly, you nod.
“I can take it,” you rasp. “I can take you.”
The heat in his eyes causes your already shaky breath to catch.
“So good for me,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I could ever do to deserve you. I love you so much.”
He shifts, his hardened cock — gods you imagine it must be aching at this point — sliding through your soaking folds and catching at your entrance. You try to breathe steadily as he pushes forward, sliding into you without resistance. He moans as he buries himself in you to the hilt, nosing into the crook of your neck and breathing you in.
“You feel divine,” he praises against your skin. “Better than divine. You are perfection itself. I could stay like this for hours.”
He sighs contentedly, and doesn’t move. Your mind, sluggish as it is now, kicks up a gear. It has to be a turn of phrase. He can’t actually mean...
You feel him shift slightly. He props himself up with one arm, while the other slides between you. He presses his thumb against your lips and you let it in on instinct, sucking lightly on the tip of it. He grins.
“Such a good girl.”
He pulls his thumb out and brings the hand down, down, down your body. It slides briefly against your entrance where he’s stretching you open, and he groans. Then it slides up and starts rubbing softly, maddeningly over your clit.
“Gale?” You can’t manage more than a whisper.
“Shhh... Just a few more, my love,” he soothes. “I want to feel you come around me at least thrice before I’m done with you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You open your eyes, blinking a few times as you try to get your bearings. Gods, you must have actually blacked out for a moment. Gale is still above you, panting heavily, his face pressed against your shoulder. You whimper as you feel him twitch inside you, the feeling well and truly overwhelming at this point. He groans and pulls out of you as gently as he can. He presses a kiss to the mark he’d apparently sucked into your shoulder and turns to look at you, one hand coming up to brush a sweaty lock of hair from your forehead.
“Alright my love?”
You nod weakly.
“Are you sure?”
You nod again. “Y-yes. Good.”
“Good,” he breathes. “You are spectacular. Wonderful beyond words.”
He moves to untie your wrists. Once he does he rubs them gently, then down your arms, massaging the sore muscles.
“Do you need some water?”
You nod, more emphatically this time. He helps you sit up and takes a glass from the nightstand. He holds it to your lips, helping you to drink. Once you’ve had your fill, he reaches over for a soft cloth that was next to the glass. He moves to clean you, but you flinch when the cloth touches your thigh.
“Too much,” you manage.
“Ah. Of course. Apologies, my love” He puts the cloth away, instead muttering a quick prestidigitation, cleaning both you and the sheets with a wave of his hand. He looks as though he means to say something else, but you yawn, and he simply smiles fondly.
“Need some rest?”
“Gods, yes.”
He chuckles and helps you lay down, pulling you into a warm embrace. He rubs your back soothingly and nuzzles into your hair.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “My good, sweet girl. I love you so dearly.”
“Love you too,” you mumble, already halfway back to unconsciousness. You feel him smile against you and place a kiss to the top of your head.
“And I’m so grateful that you do. Now, get some sleep, my love.”
You sigh in agreement, and it takes no time at all for his steady breathing and comforting warmth to lull you into what just might be the deepest sleep you’ve ever had.
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sophiethewitch1 · 9 months ago
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congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo
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Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.
A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):
Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.
Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!
B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):
Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he�� well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!
Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.
S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):
Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.
Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.
X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):
Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?
Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao
L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):
Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?
Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.
Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.
Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.
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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months ago
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au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning
(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)
i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3
Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.
Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.
Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.
The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.
And found himself staring at another figure.
With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.
He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.
The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.
"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.
Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.
"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.
Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.
"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.
Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.
He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.
"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.
Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.
Too neutral, for Tim.
"At two am?"
"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.
He was shirtless, Dick just realized.
Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.
"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"
"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."
The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.
"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"
"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."
If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.
"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.
"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."
Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.
"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.
Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."
"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"
Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.
"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."
Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.
But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.
Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.
Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.
Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.
When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.
All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.
"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."
"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.
Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?
Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.
Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.
The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."
Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.
Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."
"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.
"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.
Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"
Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.
Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.
Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
So much for his breakfast.
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idyllcy · 1 year ago
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and baby, if you knew
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word count: 2.1k || pt2 of saying we're just friends
warnings: mentions of the night before (?), morning after, hickies (?)
summary: oh the horrors of getting caught the morning after
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You stare at yourself in the mirror, blinking incredulously. (Partially out of pure shock, partially because sleeping with your contacts on was NOT a smart decision on your end)
Holy fuck, Tim got mouthy with you.
You tilt your neck to brush your fingers over the hickeys, gawking at the way it trails down your neck and collar to your chest, the purple popping on your skin. Sure, you weren't half as pale as Tim was, but hello? You didn't even bring concealer. You weren't expecting him to take you to the Wayne Manor. 
"Tim." You swallow, grimacing.
Tim raises a brow, shirt pulled halfway over his head.
"How many hickeys did you give me? Do you have a whisk? Do you have ice? Are you secretly a vampire???"
"One question at a time, lovely." he mumbles. "Seven. There's a whisk and ice downstairs. I am not secretly a vampire, although I can see why you'd guess that."
You blink at him. "Do you have a collared shirt?"
"Just settle for one of my shirts for now." He pulls the shirt over his head, tossing you the other one in the bed. 
"Please tell me it's not sheer."
"It's not."
"Thank GOD you're rich." You mumble. "It's a blessing to have non-sheer white shirts."
"Yeah, I get that." He mumbles. "Come on. Alfred called us for breakfast a little ago."
"Which one of your siblings are here?"
"We'll see." Tim hums, shutting the door to his room. (All of them are downstairs, likely. They were probably having a post-valentine debriefing like they usually do. Bruce was not spared from it.)
You duck behind Tim when you notice everyone having breakfast.
"You said we'll see! Are none of them staying with the people they were out with last night?!"
"It happens every year." Tim hums, holding his hand out for you. "Come on. Don't do the walk of shame."
"Seriously. I run a stan account for you and live in my dorm. I'm practically a hermit." You deadpan. "I am NOT cut out to be meeting your family this early in the morning."
"Master Tim, young miss. Are you ready for breakfast? We are having pancakes."
"Just kidding I would kill for pancakes right now." You mumble, following behind Tim as he sits you next to him.
All eyes are on you as you adjust the collar of your shirt, the tag scratching against your skin, the hickeys on your neck visible. You thank Alfred as he places a plate before you, and you start at the chocolate chip pancakes. Holy shit, fuck the eyes on you, this was heaven.
"Alfred, do you have a recipe book?" You blink at him, eyes wide in admiration. 
"Which recipe would you like, young miss?"
"Oh, all of them if possible. I'd love to be able to cook half as well as you can." You hum, taking another bite of your food. "Do you have a digital copy?"
"Unfortunately, all of it is on paper or in here." He smiles, tapping his brain. "But I am more than willing to provide you with any recipes you may like."
"Mm!" You shove the last piece of the pancake into your mouth, swallowing as you get up. "Tim, do you have a laptop? I want to type a couple recipes down and transcribe what's on paper—"
"Pull open the drawer to your left." He hums.
You pull it open, blinking at him.
"There's a false bottom in it. One of my spare laptops is in it. The password is a combination of letters." He hums.
"With significance?"
"Yes."
"Oh, then I know an approximation, then." You hum, working your finger into the side as you prop it open, pulling his laptop out. "Is it our birthdays?"
"Wait, how did she–" Dick's cut off when you manage to open it on your first try.
"Alright. I'm gonna go! I'll be with Alfred if you need anything." You smile.
"She just?" Duke blinks incredulously. "Did she just hack open your laptop on her first try? Is she in compsci like you?"
"English." Tim grabs a couple pancakes, cutting off a piece of butter. "Creative writing, technically."
"Oh, is she making her own major?"
"Yes." Tim hums. "I don't actually know how she guessed that it would be our birthdays since I only changed it a little while ago. It'd be easier to open if it was just our birthdays combined. Maybe she was stalking me."
"Or, maybe all the years of running a Robin Twitter account finally paid off." Jason shrugs. "She's quite a big writer on the internet too, you know?"
"Yeah." Tim hums. "She's quite the character. Have you read her works?"
"I have." Damian speaks up. "Her writing resembles poetry, pulling on the strings of your heart and snapping them at moments you least expect."
"You've read her works?!" Tim raises a brow at Damian. "That's surprising."
"She resembles the poets."
"She'd love to hear that come out of your mouth for sure." Tim mumbles. "Anything else I should know?"
"She covered me for change once while I went to buy cup noodles." Cass mumbles.
"I'm mutuals with her on Twitter?" Steph points.
"Okay, that's not the point. Timmy." Dick deadpans. "Did you sleep with her last night?"
"Sex or just plain sleeping? Because we did both—"
"I DIDN'T GET TO GIVE YOU THE SHOVEL TALK!" Dick cries. "Okay, when a man and a—"
"Dick, I'm well over into the ages of a legal adult." Tim sighs. "Besides, I'm like seventy percent sure that you gave me the shovel talk when you first found out I was dating Ari in high school. Also, I got one from my dad and Bruce, so I think I'm good."
"Oh, right." Dick mumbles. "But still."
Steph pauses. "Does she want a whisk?"
"She was asking for one earlier." Tim hums.
"We'll go help." Cass mumbles, getting out of the seat, dragging Steph.
"Okay, Tim. Is she the one who was making you all red and blushy during Christmas?" Dick slides closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.
"Yes." Tim sighs, batting Dick's hand away. "She was."
"How'd you ask her out?"
"Told her if she had nothing to do on Valentine's, then she could stick with me and I could plan a date." Tim reaches for another pancake.
"And she agreed?" Jason snorts. "Wow. She's way out of your league."
"Yeah, but at least I got B's absolutely insane ability to pull." He mumbles. "Pulled way out of my league, for sure."
"If you fumble her I fear the things that will happen to you, Drake." Damian clicks his tongue.
"Do I... know her?"
"Duke," Damian sighs. "You're smarter than this."
"He's messing with you right now." Jason pours himself another cup of coffee. 
"What's your relationship with her." Tim deadpans.
"She used to peer review my poems." He hums. "It didn't click until Damian showed me her information this morning, though."
"You just let them go through my girlfriend's personal information?!" Tim finally looks at Bruce, who only gives him a shrug.
"No harm in knowing a little more about your girlfriend."
"I swear, if you bring her in on the vigilantism—"
"That's not happening. I can promise that." Bruce glances at his almost empty mug. "Does she know?"
"She called me out for being Red Robin last night in the car." Tim sighs. "Besides, it'd be strange if she didn't notice immediately how similar Red Robin and I's voices are."
"She's been running your account for how long... now?" Bruce motions for Jason to pass him the coffee.
"Since middle school, so like..." Tim pauses. "Give or take seven years."
"That's a long time." Dick mumbles. "My longest-running fanpage is only six-ish years." 
"If you count the Gotham Gazette, then I've been running for the longest." Bruce snorts. "Is she the one?"
"I think she is." Tim smiles. "And if she's not..."
"Then I will personally see the end of your life, Drake." Damian grumbles. "I shall have mother adopt her and have her write poetry for me in exchange for a living space and food. She shall be the equivalent of a court poet except to mother and I."
"I honestly think she wouldn't turn that down." Tim grimaces. 
"Is she that desperate?"
"She's joked about sleeping with a millionaire to make some money." Tim grimaces. "Something something desperate situations call for desperate measures."
"She would love it in mother's mansion, then." Damian hums, sipping on his tea. "I shall have her write a poem for your death. It shall be my last mercy."
Tim grimaces. "What if she breaks up with me?"
"Then you're in the fault, obviously." Jason mumbles, looking at his phone. 
"So it's my fault regardless of what happens?"
"Listen, her tweets are unhinged. You can't say you like crazy girls and then get annoyed when you date one and she acts insane." Jason grumbles.
"He's got a point, Timmers." Dick hums. "I hope it works out for the best, regardless of the ending."
"Twenty bucks they are endgame." Damian mumbles.
"Alfred bet ten that Tim would pop the ring."
"Ugh, come on. You know no one out-bets Alfred." Dick groans. "Did he set up the jar?"
"He did. This morning." Duke hums. "I put my bet in too."
"Come on–"
"You can't say shit when you bet on all of our relationships and pretty much came out unscathed in all of them." Jason glares. "Shut it."
Tim rolls his eyes, surrendering himself to the idea that his relationship would get bet on. 
"Tim, can I marry your sisters?" You come out of the kitchen, eyes sparkling.
"We're dating." He sighs. "Pretty bird—"
"EWWWWWWW" A mixture of faked hurls and gags are heard in unison as Tim rolls his eyes. 
"Ignore them. Why do you want my sisters?"
"The hickeys are all," You pull your shirt down too to show your cleavage, the hickeys no longer visible, "gone! Your sisters are really good at this."
"Yeah..." Tim sighs, reaching to pull your shirt back up. "Steph isn't my sister, by the way."
"Oh, yes, I know." You smile. "After all, if she was, it'd be strange that you've dated her before." 
Tim chokes on the air at your statement.
"Besides, she's my mutual." You hum. "I also got Alfred's recipes, by the way." You hum, smile on your face. "I also got his chocolate chip cookie recipe, though I need to figure out what the secret ingredient is."
"A dash of vanilla extract." Tim lowers his voice. "Don't tell the rest of the family."
"Got it." You give him a thumbs up. 
"Do you cook?" Damian speaks up.
"I do! Mainly ethnic foods, since there isn't much of that here in Gotham." You mumble. "Got any good Chinese places?"
"Oh, there's this place on Seventh Ave and Jester." Bruce speaks up. "I used to get dim sum there. It's only open from eight to twelve, and you need to get in via reservation. Feel free to borrow my name whenever. Just make sure to invite me."
"Uncle Dan's, right?" You beam. "I went there a while back with another friend, but I miss like... the dim sum that's messy and chaotic in the morning."
"Oh, then try the one on Lightbeam." Dick pauses. "Ah, what was the other street?"
"Oh, that one's good." Duke agrees. "Sam Woo's Dim Sum and BBQ."
"I've had that too!" You smile. "They're good, just quite a while from the university."
"If you really want something good," Cass speaks up from behind you, "try Jin."
"Jin?"
"It's smaller, but it's family-run, and it's been doing business in Gotham for three generations already." Cass hums. "They're called Jin, but the Chinese character for gold. They're right by Gotham U too. On the corner by Circle K."
"The sketchy looking alley??" You blink.
"Yes, but their dumplings are to die for." She pauses. "And they sell in bulk if you want to boil any in your dorm."
"Tim, I want your sister."
"Pretty bird, we just started going out." He clicks his tongue. 
"Tim, if you break her heart, I will date her." Cass blinks.
"You can visit her when she stays in mother's mansion."
"Hm?" You turn to blink at Damian.
"Ignore him—"
"Should you and Drake break up, I have already arranged your living arrangements, should you agree to it."
"And what might they be?" You hand the laptop to Tim, pointing at the document you shared with yourself.
"With my mother. Your only job shall be to write poems and short stories to entertain her."
"Living and writing for the Talia Al Ghul? Count me in." You sigh dreamily. 
"Alright." Tim shuts the laptop after changing the password. "We're going to get going before her roommate calls the cops on her."
"Oh, right!" You mumble. "It was a pleasure meeting you all! I hope to see you again sometime?"
"Tim, send her number in the chat later!" Dick calls as Tim pulls you out.
"Sorry, they're quite embarrassing." Tim mumbles.
"They're warm." You smile. "I like it."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." 
Tim sighs in relief at the look of fondness on your face. Right.
You'll be fine.
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moonlit-dreamers · 10 months ago
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drew out a scenario idea that @night-waker had
for context, this eclipse is called solstice and servant sun is called sunshine. sunshine accidentally fell through the portal when the wither storm attacked and he entered a different dimension that was much nicer and calmer. at first him and solstice had a rocky relationship (sunshine was scared he would be punished even tho solstice would always remind him he wouldnt) but over time they grow to enjoy each others company! tho theyre not great with communicating that to each other- but thats a different thing!
theyre relationship with each other is complicated so i wont be talking about it in this post but if ppl wanna know i can make another post for it :)
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(also @lyrical-hue bc ik u would wanna be tagged)
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riaki · 11 months ago
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knitted hearts | kento nanami x reader
pt.3 of christmas event! i wrote this for u genie ily 🤍 cw: established relationship, he (over)works at that financing company from before, two (2) petnames
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the lights are still on.
that's the first thing kento immediately notices when he gets back; the office clocked him overtime, and so he's late. regrettably, again.
in the past, whenever that's happened, he'd have sent you a text beforehand and came home to a dark apartment; eaten something quick before getting into bed and slipping beneath the soft covers where your resting warmth melts away the stress of the day between his shoulders and his eyebrows.
tonight is different, it seems. the city buzzes with a quiet hum, light snowfall blanketing the roofs and muffling the sound. the holiday season is in full swing; normally, he wouldn't care to know. or remember. if not for the lame decorations around his workplace and the chocolate advent calendar you've been diligently (force) feeding him every night, he wouldn't've noticed at all.
he closes the door quietly behind him, careful not to make excess noise in case you're asleep as he slips his shoes off and hangs his jacket up. after all, you might've just been absentminded or tired, and forgot to switch the lights off. and you blame him for being lost to time.
it's quiet in the house; not dead silent, though. there's soft, ambient winter jazz flowing from somewhere in the house, and the faint sound of the fridge humming, paired with something that's baking in the oven. the scent of soft vanilla and orange settles gently over his shoulders, as if to welcome him home. his half finished coffee sits in a porcelain mug on the stained counter; you'd accidentally made too much for him, leaving you with a puddle of bitter caffeine that couldn't even be finished with your combined efforts. you'd promised him you would chug it over text, but clearly that didn't happen.
he's ready to go through the motions of a quiet night spent unwinding alone when he hears your voice— after endless hours of aching at a desk, clacking away on a mechanical keyboard in the dreariest environment imaginable, it soothes him like no vacation fantasy he's ever known.
"nami? is that you?" you called. your voice is coming from the shared bedroom; you sound tired, and kento can just imagine the sleepy look on your face. he's never been inclined to use the words 'cute' or 'pretty' to describe someone before, but if he had to choose, then he'd use them for you.
he walks down the length of the hallway, undoing his tie and gently tugging it off his neck as he reaches the threshold to your room. the air is warm and soft; it seems so much easier to breathe the closer you are. like the crushing weight of work he puts on his lungs dissipates into a cloud of melting frost.
"i'm home, sweetheart." he's surprised at how rough his own voice sounds; it's almost unfamiliar. he needs your rejuvenating touch; at least, that's what he decides the instant he sees you. you're sitting right in the middle of the mattress, something lumpy, tacky, red and green bundled up in your lap. with something between a sinking realization and a fluttering in his chest he recognizes it as the sweater you've been making for him. you're finishing it up, it seems, from the formerly-wide bundle of soft thread that's been reduced to a meek little crimson string on the white sheets.
it's one of your new interests. you seem to be taking up a lot of those, lately; kento feels as though it's his fault, for never having the time to take you out. yet you're always so patient despite his busy schedule, adjusting to portion out a chunk of time from your own just to accommodate for him. it's unfair, and so one night he vowed to do more for you over a glass of red wine and a fancy white table cloth, freshly cleaned and pressed. that was one of the rare times he'd been able to take you out like you really deserved. "and don't call me by my last name. you're allowed to use my given," he sighs, rather exasperated, but you both know there's only affection behind it.
you perk up, a bright look in your eyes that melts the last of the frost buried in his chest and beneath his eyes. he crosses the room to stand at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt a few to let himself breathe. and he doesn't miss the way your eyes linger, so he clears his throat, and you spring to action.
"i finished your sweater, ken. can you put it on?" you ask eagerly, and he's briefly reminded of a young boy with pink hair like raspberry chocolate and a golden retriever demeanor. a soft feeling pushes at the back of his heart, sending mushy gushiness through his veins at the sight.
you scoot close, holding it up for him to examine. in all honesty, it's not terrible; you get an A for effort, at the very least. the five reindeer look more like those urban folklore creatures, and the tree looks as though it could use seven more centuries under the sun-- but other than that, it's a perfect first try.
"i'd love to, darling, but i..." he doesn't get to finish, because you seem to wilt a little, and it already feels like that crushing burden over his diaphragm is back, but this time it's exceedingly and guiltily unpleasant, so he retracts his words.
"alright." he succumbs with a tired sigh, letting his eyes flutter shut and removing his glasses to rub the spot where the frame has been digging into his skin; normally you'd do it for him, but you're busy adjusting the fluffy pom poms (he didn't see those before) on the sweater's cuffs, so he does it himself.
he hears the tell tale shift of the soft bedding and he opens his eyes again, only to be met with a very expectant look on your face.
"put your hands up."
"...pardon?" a small amount of resistance to your antics is always present, at first. by now he knows you expect it. but this time, it may be much worse.
"you heard me! arms to the sky." he likes your laugh, a lot. it jingles like a gentle wind chime.
"i can put it on myself. i'm not a child," he says, a little cross, but you're undeterred. as per usual. not like he minds.
"please?"
kento doesn't particularly view himself as a man with a great many ambitious, or zealous ideals. still, he isn't a pushover and has a strong resolve. unfortunately for him (fortunately for you), when it comes to you, it doesn't take much for him to crumble. if you willed it, he'd get down at your feet.
with resignation, he kneels down on one leg, as if you're about to knight him. he waits patiently, holding his arms up, and he can practically feel your giddy smile.
soon enough, you're slipping it over his tangled blonde hair— with a little bit of effort and a lot of scratchy fabric. it's too big here and too tight there, hanging off his shoulders oddly and the sleeves are uneven. but it's cute, too-- in the way that a toddler's crayon doodles are endearing, so are your amateur efforts. what matters to him the most, is that you've handmade it for him.
nothing an industry company factory could achieve.
"so? how do you like it?" you prompt as you start to mess with the collar, pinching and pulling the fabric so that it suits his form appropriately. he doesn't ever remember you asking for his size, but you seem to know it anyway.
"it's warm," is his only input. he knows you'll complain— but it's fun to hear you whine.
you frown. "is that all?" there it is— a small, sweet little pout; the minute down tilt of your lips. your fingers dance over his collarbone as you pull the collar of his button up over the rim, and his breath hitches in his throat. kento wonders if you can feel his heartbeat or notice the way his adam's apple bobs when he swallows.
before you— or he— knows it, he's pulling you down to sit on the knee that's still propped up, catching you by the rest and meeting you halfway to press a gentle kiss to your lips. he's met with a muffled sound of surprise that quickly melts into a laugh; he can feel you smile against his lips and he wants to devour it.
"so i take it you like it?" you whispered as you lean in, hands leaving the unwieldy sweater to thread through his hair, messing it up to your heart's content after he slicked it to the side. you taste sweet, like chocolate and caramel-- he must've missed the advent sweet for today.
his only response is a small hum— you can feel the vibration, so you chuckle again and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away breathless from the kiss to knock your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes. there's an undeniable well of warmth behind your gorgeous irises; if he had the time, he'd get himself lost in them.
"good, because i have socks on the backburner and you'll be getting a scarf next."
whenever the lights are off, kento knows you've gone to bed already, without him. but he thinks he could get used to scratchy, hand-knit clothing if it means they'll always be on and waiting for him after a long day of dreaming in front of a desk, all about your smile.
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not proofread my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !
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seokberry · 3 days ago
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can you write about fucking sungchan roughly. l love the idea of dominating a big men like him, fucking him so hard that he's holding onto the sheet so hard, or even better if he's holding your doll that you pur on your bed. him crying and whimpering from overstimulation 🤤
and i was wondering, do you take emoji for anon? because i would love to be one if you have them 🫶🏼
content: nsfw, pegging, use of word benign baby
pairing: sub!sungchan x reader
a/n: yes btw i made a page for that just now ! go submit another ask to be added :) — read under cut
choked up moans filled up the room, visions of the man below you calling out your name, shaking on the soft mattress, eyes shut and ass in the air.
“be gentle, please.” it was sungchan’s first time being touched like this, to have his ass groped so harshly, to have his inner thighs shake so hard it hurt each shudder, to have someone actually touch him down there.
his hair was a mess, his bangs covering parts of his eyes while being pushed upwards his face, a result of moaning and twisting into the pillow as you fingered him. you entered a third, feeling him shift away you pull him back in.
“sungchan baby, do you wanna stop?” he shook his head no, he looked so vulnerable like this. his face so deep into the pillow because he was embarrassed to look at you, but you could tell his face was full of desperation. he embarrassed this feels so good. you suddenly snap your fingers, slowing drawing out and slamming back in, “are you sure?”
his body stills and his back arches upwards, his heels beginning to dig into the sheets, making up place a hard on his legs to control him.
“easy now.” you stop moving your fingers and hear choked out sobs below you, he was crying. you pull out immediately and flip him over, fat tears left old and new trails that ran down his face, some still forming. his bottom lip was quivering and his eyes were barely opened. you lean down, licking each place a tear had been, kissing his soft cheeks that were red and hot underneath. you were basking in the sight of sungchan being so pretty for you.
you pull away, a mere five seconds later pulling a random stuffed animal to his face to cover his expression, no words spoken but hiccups still escaping.
“i think you’re ready, do you wanna do this?” he nods slowly. you move his arms to kiss his cheeks again, somehow hotter than before.
you’ve never been so excited in your life, thinking about the sight to come as a fearful and eager sungchan watches you put your strap on. you walk over to him, crawling on the bed while he seemed to inch away, scared, frightened almost.
“if you really don’t want to, just say it now.” he hesitated to a while, throwing his head to the side before he spoke.
“n—no, i do.” he was so pathetically cute.
“really? do you like this?” he looked at you now, eyes almost blown out from shock before settling down and mumbling in agreement. you inch closer, pushing the stuffed animal down to see his face.
your noses were kissing, you were so close you could feel the air from his nostrils heavy on your face. “tell me what you like.” you say almost quieter than him. his eyes narrow, he maintain eye contact with you, beginning to bite my lip.
“i like—i like how good it feels. and, when you compliment me.” he let out an undistinguishable sound between a moan and a groan when he saw a smirk begin to cross your face.
“i’ll make you feel real good baby.” you say, grabbing him and moving him so he’s on top of you, siting while the strap was in front of him. “go at your own pace baby, i’ll watch.”
“y/n, this is so embarrassing.” sungchan says, beginning to turn around, you stop him before he can.
“i wanna see your face, please?” sungchan couldn’t look you in the face and say no if he really tried, immediately beginning to move himself above the strap.
it was amusing seeing sungchan like this, broad shoulders, tall lean build, despite it all— he is so easily overwhelmed that he was brought to tears, struggling to ride someone. he placed the tip of the strap in, immediately beginning to moan and make a fucked out expression.
you sit back, watching as he slowly puts it in, inch by inch, despite the fact it was smaller than his own. he finally sat down, his hands on your stomach as he breaths heavily, his chest rising and falling like a beat of a drum.
you shift a little, on accident, and watch him collapse onto you, his face on your chest. you begin to thrust upwards, slowly, increasing speed as sungchan switches from lating in your chest from support to leaning backwards.
“sungchan, you’re doing so well for me, i’m so proud of you.” a whimper escaped sungchan’s lips with that, seconds later beginning to match your energy, moving his own hips along your thrusts as you watched the man above you unravel.
he was moaning your name like a mantra, unable to stop as pleasure hit him. you adjust the both of you while his limp body just follows, your back against the headboard while he’s still on his lap, moving slightly without you doing anything for pleasure.
your lips clash with his, drool escaping the corner of both of yours’ lips as he moaned obscenely into your mouth, hiccups and choked out moans blending into the heated mess of your mouths. he continues riding you, while you bring a hand down to jerk him off.
he pulls away from the kiss as you start to jerk him off and thrust at the same time, the sensation all too much, he can’t keep up, he slacks on your shoulder taking it all. he’s sobbing harder now, you can feel the tears on you and the combination of sobs mixed with moans of pleasure.
you lean you head a bit closer to his ear “you can cum now baby.” he suddenly maneuvers his lips to yours, kissing lazily and sloppily, momentarily saying ‘i love you’ while riding out his orgasm.
you pull him away, your face in his hands making him look and face you while he cums. his eyes perfectly furrowed, his eyes full of desperation when not shut tight, his mouth perfectly agape, all together painting a beautiful picture of an even more beautiful man.
you give him another peck on the lips, “did you like it?”
he shoved his face into your shoulder again, “yeah.”
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zukkaoru · 3 months ago
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life, where we all are
At the end of the school day, Aya has to wait to be picked up instead of walking home with her friends. Kunikida arrives in his car, having carved out time in his schedule to get her on the days when her dad can’t, which is most of them. Today, Dazai sits in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio dial. He ignores Aya like he always does as Kunikida helps her into the car. He’s probably only here because he wanted to skip out on work. Kunikida says he likes to do that. Aya’s crutches go on the empty seat beside her, where Dazai’s cane is already lying. It looks less lonely now, at least. She wishes that were enough to make her feel better.
or: aya faces the consequences of being a hero
🌟 5.4k words || aya-centric 🌟 written for @bsd-disability-week-2024 day 4: mobility aids and accommodations/accessibility
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b4kuch1n · 2 years ago
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making of a feathered thing
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tetzoro · 3 months ago
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goooood morning friendz & happy thursday ᡣ𐭩 ! welcoming august with open arms and manifesting a great month for everyone, full of the bestest vibes ! the guys have a special lil message for you <3 i hope you all have a great day (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ! !
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moodyseal · 9 months ago
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I got too deep into the Schema Theory while writing the paper for one of my exams and it got me thinking about Apollo's coping mechanisms yk
Basically the gist of this theory is that, in the eventuality that their primary needs are not satisfied during their formative years, a child might develop a bunch of different behavioural schemes in their adult life (which are too many to be listed here oh my god) that are a direct reflection of how the parent failed them during childhood
For example, one of these schemes is emotional deprivation, which is a person's tendency to emotionally distance themselves from other people due to the fact that they believe they won't be able to comfort them, and it's a scheme that's formed due to the guardian not satisfying the child's emotional needs. Basically it's formed through a "If my parent couldn't do it, then how could others?" sort of mentality
Another one, which I believe is very relevant here, is the sense of failure, which originates due to the guardian's immensely overbearing nature and the continuous dissatisfaction with the child's efforts. As an adult, the child in question believes that they're inept at everything, even if evidence points to the contrary, because of the fundamental belief that they hold that they're a failure
(Does it remind you of anyone?)
Now, these schemes tend to go hand in hand with modes, which are essentially coping mechanisms that the person uses to deal with whatever life throws at them and whatever negative emotion these schemes bring on. One of these modes is the *squints* scheme overcompensation? Anyway what it says on the article I got the info from is that basically people who use this coping mechanism tend to do the opposite of what their behavioural scheme tells them to do. If they're ashamed, they put down others. If they feel like a failure, they boast. (Again. Who does this sound like.)
AT FIRST it seems like a good coping mechanism but it's actually not, because the overcompensation leads to this vicious cycle where the more a person overcompensates, the more the scheme worsens. In Apollo's case, the scheme we're examining here is his sense of failure; in his overcompensation mode, to avoid feeling incompetent he tries to constantly put himself in the spotlight, drawing attention to his talents. However, he does it in such a ridiculous way (perhaps actually in some form of self-sabotage?) that the people around him insult those talents, call him a failure, and thus worsen his feeling of worthlessness.
(This might be tied to the punitive scheme as well, maybe? Considering how keen Zeus was on punishment, Apollo might've developed this scheme as a result, though over the centuries it could've shifted its focus from everyone to just him idk. The change between "I'm punishing everything and everyone for being so stupid, even my own son + this Ptolemaic god who breathed wrong in my direction" to "Actually I'm chill" seems pretty suspicious to me tbh)
ANYWAY all of this is to say that everything he does is so intrinsically tied to the damage Zeus did to him that it hurts. All his behaviours all his coping mechanisms. Everything
The arrogance is not just a façade he built over the years to hide his feeling of unhappiness and guilt!! It's quite literally an abuse response!!!!
And yeah maybe Leto was the one who spent the most time with him and Artemis and who took the most care of them so technically she should be considered his figure of attachment instead of Zeus but then again. How much time did Apollo spend beside her compared to the time he spent at Zeus' side, after the twins became Olympians? What do a few moments with her in a year do against entire centuries with him?
Leto's influence never really mattered. He was doomed since the beginning
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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months ago
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"Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I'm gone?"
Bruce, Jason, and Tim (With JayTim or maybe even BruJayTim)
send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!
god, this one was so good. so, you get the catch-22 of this being a bit longer, 4.5k, but with the warning, i have not edited it so it might be a little rough. but the whole point of this is quick fun so! this is basically Tim and Jason trying to kill each other bc they're under the influence of a toxin. both have a relationship with Bruce and are mad about it. it does end in some short JayTim porn and an implied BruJayTim ending. you could argue dub-con, but it's mostly consensual. enjoy <3
Tim honestly would’ve preferred if it was fear toxin or Joker venom.
Those, he at least knew the tricks for dealing with. How to keep his heart rate down, how to focus and not give in to his body’s adrenaline response. And even if none of those failed, the worst of the fear toxin was just something Tim could wait out while playing distracting music.
This was different.
Anger was different.
“It looks like someone took Crane’s compound and modified it,” Bruce, the lucky bastard who had managed not to inhale the substance, was stood perfectly calm in front of the Batcomputer. “It’s difficult to tell though without a direct sample.”
“If you would just let me look at it maybe we could get somewhere,” Tim hissed through grit teeth, aiming a lethal scowl at Bruce. His nails were digging into his palm. He frowned and tried to take a break. “I’m sorry.”
Bruce looked over his shoulder at Tim with concern and pity. “Are you sure you don’t want to be tranquilized until I synthesize the cure?”
“Bruce, if you try to get close enough to tranq me, I’ll probably try to rip your larynx out with my teeth,” Tim said. The itch for violence sat right underneath his fingertips. He was desperate for it, already twitching at the thought.
Logic and reasoning were hard to hold onto. Every straight thought Tim had was immediately consumed by the fire of fury, burned into something unrecognizable.
Tim didn’t feel like himself when he was angry. That was the worst part. He never liked his anger before and now, it was the only part of him on display. An ugly and twisted thing.
“He could just shoot you with a tranq dart,” Jason said smoothly. “I’d pay to see it.”
Jason was also affected by the rage toxin, though compared to Tim, he looked barely bothered. His head was tilted back to rest against the back of his chair, eyes closed. Both hands were in his lap, fingers calmly laced. His hands were forced together by the same cuffs that Tim was also wearing. Tim had suggested the cuffs when he tried to claw out Bruce’s eyes because Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. Despite Jason’s lack of reaction, it was universally decided to also put Jason in the cuffs. The handcuffs were chained to the chairs Tim and Jason were sitting in, with at least six feet’s distance between them so they couldn’t try to grab each other.
Which Tim had done at least a half a dozen times by now.
“If you’re not going to have helpful input you can keep your goddamn mouth shut,” Tim snapped, holding himself still in the chair from trying to launch across the room again. His muscles were so tense from clenching them that he was starting to shake.
“Tim,” Bruce said softly, giving him a look. Bruce was perfectly fine if Tim snapped at him. But when Tim snapped at Jason, he got a stern reprimand.
Which only pissed Tim off more.
He didn’t understand how he was fine with Bruce sleeping with both of them now. The thought was ridiculously enraging, how he could allow Bruce to even be around Jason Todd. It usually didn’t bother Tim, and was one of the things Tim accepted about Bruce. The lack of monogamy.
But now? Staring at Jason’s smug face that Tim itched to break? It made Tim’s blood boil.
He was more important and useful to Bruce than Jason could ever be. And Tim didn’t have a pile of bodies on his ledger. He actually knew he to behave like a person and not a wild animal.
Ironic how they looked now, then.
Jason’s face split into a feral grin. He leaned forward. “Yeah, Tim,” his tone mocked the one Bruce used. “Let’s behave ourselves.”
Tim could see it in Jason’s eyes. How angry he was, how he was holding back everything that Tim couldn’t. His little show was a facade and Tim damn well knew it.
He wanted to rip Tim apart just as badly.
Now it was Jason who Bruce gave the look to. “This is easier for you to control than it is for him, Jason. Don’t try to provoke him.”
Tim hated how he was spoken about as if he wasn’t even there. Like he was some hapless child throwing a temper tantrum that Bruce was indulging, but sharing quiet whispers about with the real adults.
Like he thought Jason could control himself better than Tim just because Jason had experience with the Lazarus Pit, making him less susceptible to anger manipulation.
At least that was the working theory, currently. Jason’s working theory was simply that he was better than Tim. It was when he said that, that Tim suggested the handcuffs. He had enough of his wits left about him to know he’d sort of regret killing Jason Todd, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.
Jason just shrugged at Bruce’s words and relaxed back into his chair, crossing his legs. “He shouldn’t be so easily provokable then.”
“You know damn well-” Tim started.
“Timothy.” Bruce put a command in his voice that he rarely used with Tim. It made Tim straighten on instinct. The endless patience Bruce had was getting worn more and more thin with every jab and insult traded between Tim and Jason. He looked like he was at his wit’s end. “Don’t listen to him.”
A slow, deep breath did nothing to calm Tim’s nerves. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and then resisted the urge to spit it at Bruce. “B, I love you, but you have no idea how hard this is. Especially around him of all people.”
The look that crossed Bruce’s face was pained. They always danced around the elephant in the room, that was Bruce accepting Jason back into the fold a little too quickly for everyone’s comfort. It was his soft spot showing. Even when Tim wasn’t under the influence of a drug he didn’t like it and had tried several times to warn Bruce that Jason was a lost cause.
It’d caused a lot of arguments on their best days. Weeks of not speaking to each other on their worst.
And because Tim was the dutiful partner, the loving Robin, he always gave in first. Bruce needed him. In some ways, romantically. But in most ways, Bruce just needed genuine companionship from someone who wasn’t batshit crazy and murdering drug lords like it was a sport. That was Tim’s job. A job he liked, even.
Not that he was too fond of it right now.
They both knew, deep down Bruce had desperate wants of Jason and Tim getting along. The soft comments Bruce made about how well Tim and Jason could work together in a hypothetical always held an unspoken meaning. It wasn’t actually about Tim working with Jason on the field. It was about the fantasy of them being in Bruce’s bed at the same time, loving each other the way they loved him.
That would happen over Tim’s cold, dead body.
“I know,” Bruce said quietly. He reached out for Tim, then seeing the look in Tim’s eye, seemed to think against it and pulled his hand back. It only made Tim angrier. Angry Bruce didn’t currently trust Tim to give him affection. Angry Bruce was right not to trust him. So goddamn angry that despite craving comfort, all Tim wanted to do was bite the hand that fed him. A frustrated growl came out of Tim’s throat and he kicked the ground.
“You know,” Jason drawled, studying Tim with his barely contained madness, “I’m glad for it, honestly. I was starting to think you didn’t have any bite in you at all, Drake. Least we all know what it takes for you to finally snap.”
Tim opened his mouth for a biting insult, but looked at Bruce. He took a deep breath. “I hope all this self-restraint you’re showing is a lesson you keep when all this is over. The last thing we need is for you to go on another murder rampage because someone hurt your feelings.”
Jason’s eyes flared. His hands curled into fists. “Oh, you have no idea the self-restraint I show. If you want to see on a real rampage I’ll fucking-”
“Enough!” Bruce slammed a hand on the console. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. “I have more files on fear toxin in my study I need to find.” Bruce looked between them, giving them both a hard stare. “Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I’m gone?”
“Ask him,” Jason shrugged. He was trying to sound nonchalant again, but he spoke through grit teeth. “I’m just fine over here.”
Tim just held up his cuffed hands, showing where the chain ended, keeping him firmly connected to the steel chair. “I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.”
Bruce nodded. He passed one more look between the two of them. “I’ll be right back. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Again, he looked like he wanted to reach out. To which of them, Tim wasn’t sure. probably both, which sent an involuntary wave of disgust through his body. If Bruce touched Jason in front of him, Tim was probably going to puke. Bruce turned on his heel and walked out of the cave. They both watched his figure slowly disappear from view.
Before Tim could even turn to Jason and say something, he was tackled to the ground by a blindingly fast and heavy human body.
“What the-” Tim started, raising his hands to protect his face when a fist tried to come down on it. “How the fuck-”
Jason was wearing a grin that had gone completely mad, in every definition of the word. He had easily pinned Tim to the ground, a knee on Tim’s chest. Jason’s hands were still cuffed together but somehow, he’d undone the chain connecting him to his chair. Which boded particularly poorly for Tim, who was still chained to his chair, giving his arms a limited range of movement to defend himself.
Of course, Jason had picked the lock without either of them noticing.
“Thought you were the smart one, Drake,” Jason sneered. His hands were forced together, so when he reached for his waist with one hand they both had to move away from Tim’s face. “You really fucking thought I’d willingly hand over all my weapons to Bruce in a room with you?” He pulled a small, switchblade out from under his waistband and flipped it open. “I wouldn’t have even if I wasn’t drugged.”
“I knew you were acting, you fucking bastard,” Tim snarled. He didn’t have a weapon. It had been his suggestion to hand all of them over to Bruce because Tim was trying to be reasonable.
He should’ve fucking known better. There was never any reasoning with Jason.
Tim still had his bare hands. He launched them toward Jason’s throat. They managed to curl around flesh, nails just starting to dig in, when Jason stabbed Tim in the hand. Tim yelled, yanking his hand away and taking the other one with it.
That was the other shitty part of the anger. It made pain harder to ignore.
“Had to convince Bruce it was okay to leave you alone with me,” Jason said, shrugging slightly. “Figured I would only get one chance.” He raised the knife and tried to bring it down on Tim’s face. Tim managed to stop him, getting the knife tangled in the chains. “For fuck’s sake.” Jason shifted his weight. He pulled the knife free and brought up his over leg, using it to pin down the chain under his boot. Without any slack, Tim’s hands were forced against the ground, tugging uselessly.
“I will rip you apart with my teeth if I have to,” Tim growled, trying to snap at Jason’s face to prove his point.
Jason easily dodged and laughed. “I’d like to see you try. Maybe It’ll make you interesting, for once.” He brought the knife down and held it to Tim’s throat. “Grayson, I could’ve understood. He’s a pretty guy. Got a good sense of humor on him. Even Gordon. I don’t like her, but I could’ve respected it.” Jason’s face twisted into an ugly look, staring down at Tim with utter contempt. “But you? I have to share Bruce with you of all people? My goddamn replacement? That’s just fucking insulting.”
Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself killed then,” Tim shot back. “You were easy to replace.”
“Yeah, provoke the guy with a knife to your throat,” Jason pressed the blade against Tim’s skin until a drop of blood was sliding down his adam’s apple. “I’ll show you what a dead Robin looks like.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “You really think Bruce will forgive you for killing me?” He tugged at the chain as hard as he could. It still wasn’t budging. “He’d tear you apart.”
“Yeah, I really do,” Jason mocked Tim. He leaned in close enough for Tim to smell mint on Jason’s breath. “He always does. He’ll just blame it on the toxin. We both know he always forgives me no matter what I do.” His grin was a ghastly thing. “Can you say the same, Drake?”
Tim just growled. He headbutted Jason, not caring about the knife. If he was going to die, he would at least leave his mark.
Jason jerked back, rubbing his nose. Tim had hopefully broken it. Blood was already starting to pour down Jason’s face. Jason had the audacity to laugh. “Cute.” He rubbed his nose for a moment, feeling the bone. “You know I’m not going to kill you, though. That would be way too nice.”
“Nice?” Tim scoffed. “Did you finally learn the meaning of mercy, or something?”
“For you? Never.” Jason brought the knife to Tim’s face. “I just want to make you wish you were dead.” he dug the blade into Tim’s temple and Tim yelled, feeling it cut through his skin all the way down to his jaw. “What part of you do I have to mutilate to make Bruce stop loving you?”
Tim didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying to blink through the pain of a shallow cut that should’ve felt like nothing. Instead, it felt like a hot iron had branded the entire left side of Tim’s face, melting most of his skin off.
“What’s so pretty it could make Bruce like someone as pathetic as you?” Jason pressed on. He put another cut across Tim’s face, slashing through his cheek. “You’ve got a nice face. Is that it?” He leaned back so he could rip Tim’s shirt apart, exposing Tim’s chest. “We both know Bruce is a physical guy. Maybe it’s something else.” The blade trailed across Tim’s chest, looking for the next place to cut.
Tim managed to get leverage against the concrete with his feet. He pushed himself up as hard and fast as he could, throwing Jason off of him. Before Jason had the chance to recover, Tim launched himself forward and wrapped the chain around Jason’s throat.
“Maybe his love for you is only skin deep,” Tim pulled the chain as tight as it could go, watching Jason’s face turn red without oxygen. The rational part of him knew he was taking too much pleasure in watching Jason struggle for air. The rest of him didn’t care. “But Bruce actually loves me.”
Jason snarled. “He’s loved me longer.”
He wildly stabbed at Tim until the knife sank into Tim’s forearm. Tim screamed and let go, giving Jason slack to breathe, getting a hand under the chain and yanking hard on it. Tim didn’t fall off of Jason but instead fell into him. Their bodies were pressed together, and Jason used it as an excuse to wrap the chain around Tim, forcing them against each other.
“Can’t get away from me now,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. He ripped his knife out of Tim’s arm.
“You really want to be this close to me?” Tim asked. He tried to headbutt Jason again but didn’t have enough damned room to move. “Your fucking funeral.”
“I’m the one with the knife,” Jason said in a sing-song voice. He wiggled his arms between them and brought the knife against Tim’s crotch. Tim had his pants as a layer of fabric protecting him, but he still went rigid. “Is it here? Is this what Bruce likes so much? Go on. Tell me how he likes to fuck you, Drake. Bet you’re real fucking vanilla about it and he has to be all nice to you.”
“You sound jealous,” Tim tried to bite Jason, who kept pulling his head away. “You’re the one who needs to hear him say he’s proud of you just to come. I’m not the one of us who cries during sex.”
“How the hell-” Jason’s whole body jerked in anger.
Tim knew his grin was feral. “Trust me, I know all the embarrassing details. Bruce talks about it all the time.” That wasn’t entirely true. Tim had just overheard it once when Bruce forgot to turn off his comms. But the lie was far more embarrassing for Jason.
“I could make you cry,” Jason sounded angrier than Tim had ever heard him, which was a hell of a feat. “He’s just not fucking you hard enough. Putting you in your goddamn place like you deserve.”
“You want to fuck me, now?” Tim taunted. “I thought you hated me.”
“Too vanilla to know what hatefucking is, Drake?” Jason shot back. He pressed the knife harder into Tim’s crotch. “I could make you fucking beg for it.”
“Like hell.”
“You wanna find out?” Jason asked.
Tim paused his struggles. He pulled back and gave Jason an incredulous look. “You’re not actually serious.”
“Either I kill you, torture you, or bitch you.” Jason shrugged. He dug the knife down enough to cut open Tim’s pants. The fabric tore loudly. “I’ll let you pick.”
“I’ll kill you first,” Tim shot back. He refused to take the offer seriously.
He didn’t know what his answer would be, if it was a serious offer, so it was better for Tim to not think about it entirely.
“Scared you’ll like it?” Jason was just mocking him now. “If I ruin you enough, you’ll come crawling back for me instead of Bruce. And besides,” Jason lowered his voice to a purr, “we both know he’d pay to watch. Bet he’d even help me hold you down.”
Against his will, Tim shuddered. His anger was clouding his judgment, making it hard to figure out what other emotions were there. Maybe there was arousal. Maybe it was fear.
Tim always had trouble telling the difference.
“Have you always wanted to fuck me?” Tim avoided everything Jason was saying. It made him too dizzy to think about.
Jason just gave him a shrug. “Can’t say I haven’t wondered what’s so special about fucking you that he keeps doing it. Is your ass really that good or something?”
Tim snorted. He had no idea Jason didn’t know. “He doesn’t fuck me in the ass.”
“What?” Jason’s brow furrowed.
“If I had a dick down there, you’d have cut it by now,” Tim pointed out, looking down at the knife.
Jason frowned. He dug the knife deeper, ripping open a bigger hole in the fabric of Tim’s pants until he could force his hand inside, thankfully the one that wasn’t holding the knife. Tim tried to kick, but he couldn’t stop Jason’s hand from groping until it found his cunt, pressing against Tim’s underwear.
“Son of a bitch,” Jason said. “Well, that makes you even easier to fuck. Now I don’t need prep.”
“You’re not fucking me,” Tim snarled, trying to get away from Jason’s hand. his skin was too hot, to have Jason that close to his most sensitive areas. He didn’t want to know what his body would do if Jason got past the thin barrier of fabric between him and Tim’s skin.
“You haven’t actually told me no yet,” Jason pointed out. He managed to cut apart Tim’s underwear, a cold reminder of how close the knife was to his cunt. Thick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole until two managed to sink in. “You’re wet.”
“No, I’m not,” Tim gasped, even though he could feel it. The easy slide of Jason’s fingers inside of him, the way there was no resistance from his body. He still wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he wanted this. Not when he wanted Jason dead just as badly. Tim opened his mouth to say something more, but Jason brushed a thumb over his clit. “Oh god.”
“if I’m being honest with you,” Jason hummed, starting to move his fingers inside of Tim, “I think it’s a lot easier to be horny than angry right now. That’s the only damn feeling that works to fight this.”
He was right and Tim hated him for it. The anger thrumming under his skin pulled back, just slightly, to make room for arousal. It made Tim want to give in, just so he could have anything to latch onto besides cold, empty fury.
And Jason’s fingers felt good inside of him. They arched right up into Tim’s sweet spot, making him gasp and jerk.
“How quick do you think I can make you come?” Jason asked. He worked his fingers and thumb together, finding a good pace. Like he knew exactly how Tim liked it.
“Fuck you,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” Jason said.
They both knew he wouldn’t. Tim didn’t want Jason to stop. If Jason stopped, Tim would probably grab the knife and gut him.
“I hate you.” Tim’s hips were moving against his will. He was acutely aware the knife was still down there too, but he put a small amount of trust in Jason to not let it trust.
“It’s mutual,” Jason agreed. He shifted his hips until they were pressed against Tim’s thigh. He was hard. Tim could feel the outline of Jason’s cock as Jason started to rut, grinding against Tim for friction. A low moan came out of him, going straight to Tim’s core.
Jason was kind of handsome, at least. Especially with blood all over his face.
“Now are you gonna come for me or what?” Jason growled into Tim’s ear. “Show me exactly how much you hate me, Drake. I want to fucking feel it.”
“You’re a bastard who doesn’t deserve Bruce,” Tim whined as Jason’s fingers worked him. Rubbing his clit and thrusting into his sweet spot. It was a sweet, torturous distraction from his rage, but it still didn’t make the feeling quite go away.
“Agreed.” Jason shrugged, seeming unbothered by the statement. He groaned again, pressing his forehead against Tim’s. “I’m still better than you, though. You’re the little bitch who’s never going to forget what being fucked by me feels like. Maybe I’ll be nice enough that you’ll enjoy it and jerk off to it every time you’re wet.”
The thought of jerking off to Jason repulsed Tim. Yet it was the same thought that sent his orgasm through him, like a shock to his core. He yelled, so loud it echoed through the cave. His hole clenched around Jason’s fingers as his body worked through the spasms of pleasure.
For one glorious moment, Tim didn’t notice his anger. He just had the beautiful crescendo of pleasure crashing down on him, making his body sing.
“Isn’t that fucking adorable,” Jason gasped, grinding harder against Tim. You’re finally not annoying for once. No wonder Bruce fucks you. It’s the only way someone can enjoy being around you.”
The words were mean and Tim wanted to snap back, but he was boneless. Every insult from Jason was a new aftershock of pleasure down Tim’s spine.
Tim opened his mouth to find something to say, but he was cut off.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce stood at the mouth of the cave, staring at them with wide eyes. He looked just as angry as Tim felt, stalking over to where they were pinned and bloody on the floor. “Jason if you hurt him-”
“I’m fingering him, actually,” Jason corrected lazily, still grinding his hips.
Bruce stopped walking. “What?”
Jason thrust his fingers inside Tim to make his point, pulling a cry out of Tim. He was oversensitive from his orgasm and couldn’t get away from the pressure against his g-spot. “You should be proud of us. We’re getting along pretty well.”
Sure they were. Like Tim’s face wasn’t cut up and Jason’s nose wasn’t broken.
“You…” Bruce trailed off, breath caught in his throat. Tim watched his pupils dilate.
“He’s enjoying himself. Just came on my fingers,” Jason said. He pressed the knife against Tim’s thigh as a warning. “Right, Drake?”
Tim bit back a remark. He nodded.
“I promise to behave if you let me fuck him,” Jason looked up at Bruce. He was definitely lying. “We should both fuck him. See how much he can take. I’ll even keep the cuffs on just to be nice.”
Tim couldn’t stop the soft moan that came out of him at the thought.
Bruce looked between them. His eyes settled on Tim. “Are you-”
“Yes,” Tim said. “Please?”
As soon as Tim said the magic word, Bruce was by their side, taking his clothes off. Jason groaned in victory. He grinned against Tim’s cheek. “Now we can have some real fun.”
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oh-snapperss · 6 months ago
Text
hi guys here's my fanfiction i wrote for my mythology final godbless
Pairing: Ren/Etho (ish??)
Words: 1,178
Warnings: Discussions of mortality/mentioned character death
Summary:
The sky thundered despite the clear as day sky, and Ren had shared a look with the ground before opening his mouth, undoubtedly to beg Etho to take his rash statement back. He had not taken it back, it was a miracle, a gift! Finally, at last, the gods were worth something to Etho. Ren had fallen in battle less than a year later. He’d held Etho’s hand that night, and cried. That was the first time Etho felt the prickle of regret spark in his chest. or, a series of three letters spanning hundreds of years as an exploration of what mortality means, written by immortal etho to his long-lost mortal lover.
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