#pit withdrawal

[ky-landfill]

[theflagscene]

Don’t mind me, just gonna be living here for a while ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[theelast-straw]

wdym postponed on youtube 😭😭

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

“Are we okay?” Jason asks, meeting his eyes. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, visible because the hood of his sweater is pushing his hair back.

Bruce gets up and makes his way over to him, intending to hug him, when Jason’s face suddenly goes white as a ghost.

As always, this is inspired by this amazing art by the incredible @ky-landfill

[batstorm93672]

Can you do a Jason and Damian met in the loa and something involving pit madness? If it inspires you to do so

I'm a sucker for Damian suffering so here we go at the League.

.

Damian was alone, he failed a test of strength and had been stabbed quite a few times before bleeding out to death. As soon as everything became dark it became a sick green. He swam to the surface out of the Lazarus Pit screaming. The voices joined in those screams either incoherent or shouting his failures.

He was sent to his room alone, Damian was still withdrawing from the Pit. Every sense of his was on fire. His mind a wreck of voices being too loud for his comfort. Damian had flipped out, punching his walls until he bled and bruised. Then the door opened, Damian stood up and put his hands behind his back. It wasn't who he was expecting.

It was that man Jason Todd. The one who was brought back to life, he knew his father too. Jason Todd rarely spoke, sometimes Jason was sent to watch Damian. Those were rather awkward moments as none of them had anything in common except for the Dark Knight (not that Damian knew him well to speak of. Only mother's claims of being strong and amazing was all he knew) Jason watched him carefully and Damian brisked at the feeling, getting ready to fight any minute that Jason tried anything. Jason closed the door and approached Damian with no intent to fight. Damian still kept his guard up, he can't be seen being so weak.

"Your hands"

Damian went rigid, how did he notice? Why is he even here? Holding his head up he spoke "Do not concern yourself with me Todd. I am well" Damian blocked the easy seen punch that Jason threw his way. Jason held a tight grip and turned to see Damian's knuckles which were bloody and purple. "Hm" Jason sat Damian down on the bed and found bandages that he can wrap around his hand. "Todd, I do not need your assistance. I am capable of doing this myself"

You need the help of a man who is better than you.

You need to be better.

Weakling.

Your father would be embarrassed of you.

Damian noticed Jason staring right at him, the voices echoed and Damian steeled his face as to not show weakness.

"What happened?"

"Got injured in battle, I failed, but I will be stronger"

He can't admit that he's died many times, it would be showing much more weakness than before.

"Does the Lazarus Pit hurt?"

Yes

Shut up

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes

Enough!

"No. It makes me stronger"

The bandages were applied expertly so. Damian stared at Jason and Jason stared back. This is the most Damian ever heard him speak.

Something in Jason that has become fuzzy with time told him... help the kid who needs it. He needs help.

Jason grabbed Damian and embraced him, Damian tensed up. "Todd?! What are you doing? You are not allowed to do such atrocious acts!"

Before Damian could shove Jason away, Jason got up and left without a word.

What is wrong with him?

Why would he do that?

He must be ill

It's not my place

Grandfather will deal with him

It isn't my problem

...

I am not longing for that feeling again. It is an act of weakness and it is something I can not afford to deal with.

[27-royal-teas]

I’ve figured out the meaning of life it’s Go To Concerts Make Friends Eat A Lot Of Good Food And Have Fun. and also Kiss Girls

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

Angst of these old bois because I’m soft for CTW Funtime Freddy being soft towards his smol human bf for once-

Ever since she died, Millie’s grandpa would sometimes have reoccurring nightmares about reliving the day his wife died over and over again, which he would usually wake up from crying

The first time it happened when he and CTW Funtime Freddy started dating, CTW Funtime Freddy asked him what was going on in a panicked manner, and initially Millie’s grandpa refused to tell him why he was crying out of fear that he would react negatively, because this poor old man has been so emotionally traumatized by so many people in his life, that he still manages to easily convince himself that he’s unlovable and nothing more but a burden like his father always told him.

Instead CTW Funtime Freddy scootches over to his side of the bed, and embraces him surprising Millie’s grandpa. He gently shushes him, and whispers reassurances into his ear that he’s still there and loves him, telling him that it’s ok to cry and to let it all out.

Once Millie’s grandpa calms down CTW Funtime Freddy showers him in reassurances and praises, peppering kisses all over his face and down his neck, telling him how beautiful and cute he is, and how lucky he is that he was the human to find him, pretty much anything to let Millie’s grandpa know that he’s loved.

Millie’s grandpa spends the rest of the night in CTW Funtime Freddy’s arms, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep listening to the low hum of CTW Funtime Freddy’s systems and his deep sultry voice purring into his ear, as his hand occasionally switches between rubbing comforting patterns into his back, or stroking his long wispy gray hair.

CTW Funtime Freddy stays up the rest of the night, entirely focused on the smaller, fragile human in his arms, protectively holding him against his metal body like he were a precious porcelain doll that would break if anything else touched him. The peaceful and innocent look on Millie’s grandpa’s face as he sleeps, paired with the slight rise and fall of his chest, and how his hands ever so desperately hold onto his shoulders, help remind CTW Funtime Freddy of how vulnerable he really is, only making his want to hold him close and protect him from anything or anyone that could possibly hurt him stronger than ever.

All CTW Funtime Freddy can think of is how perfect the human in his arms is, and how he is all his. He barely moves for the rest of the night save for caressing Millie’s grandpa’s back, or stroking his hair, lest he dares to wake him up.

[jeweledstone]

HOW AM I EVEN HUNGRIER AFTER I JUST ATE THAT SHOULDN’T BE POSSIBLE???

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

activities that “open you up” to demonic forces: pursuits that seek or involve supernatural or spiritual power (seance, psychedelics, satanism, etc.)

activities that do NOT “open you up” to demonic forces: reading books about dragons

[spectersinthesnow]

for me this image holds so much love and joy

[ky-landfill]

Some angsty pit withdrawal Jason and batfam? 🤲

“Dad…?” I’m here, Jay.

[lakecoded]

so tempted to just do a poll abt wether or not i should drop out of school for the semester

[theelast-straw]

excuse me where is my pit babe

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

“Oh my god.”

Jason turns back to properly look at him. “What?”

“Oh my god, I think I know what’s wrong with you!”

In which Jason gets a break, and Tim has a theory :)

As always, inspired by this adorable art by the incredible @ky-landfill <3

[daycourtofficial]

I pretend you’re mine all the damn time

Summary: on a mission Azriel ingests a breeding tonic and you offer to help him release

Warnings: SMUT, PIV, sex pollen, slight dubcon

Author’s note: I think this is my longest fic ever and also probably the fic I’m proudest of so yall BETTER enjoy. I think this is my favorite fic I’ve ever written ugh 😩 I will likely write a part two 🫶

Word count: 2.6k

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“What the fuck,” you grunt, as you land a hit on another Illyrian after several minutes of exchanging blows.

You jab him in his ribs, blocking his retaliating kick. You huff as his hand grabs the knife at his side, deflecting your punch to his face.

You go low, swiping his legs out from under him, causing him to crash onto the ground. You climb on top of him, ready to land another blow, when his legs push up from underneath you, throwing you off of him.

He climbs on top of you, grabbing you by the collar to throw you back into the ground, when something strikes the back of his head, causing him to go limp on top of you.

Your confusion doesn’t last long as hazel eyes meet yours over the massive figure unconscious on top of you.

“I had it covered,” you said, pushing the male off of you.

Azriel snorts, “sure you did.”

He reaches out a hand, which you gladly take. He pulls you up with more force than he intended, pulling you in very close to his body. Your breath hitches, his smell of night-chilled mist and cedar invading your senses.

Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re sure he can hear it as he looks at you. He’s smiling down at you, a smile that weakens your knees and distracts you enough to forget all about the abandoned Illyrian camp you two were searching in.

At least, it was supposed to be abandoned, according to the intel you two had received. Azriel had asked you to come with him, the two of you making an exquisite pair on missions. Somehow you both knew when the other needed help, exemplified when Azriel hit the assailant from behind moments ago.

It’s like you both had a sixth sense for when the other was in danger.

You’re about to say something when something hits Azriel on the back of the head, causing him to lose his balance and stumble forward into you.

His mouth turns into a sneer, as he whips around and the Illyrian you hadn’t seen or noticed grabs Azriel by the collar, pushing him into a wall full of bottles and tubes. The guy grabs one of the random bottles from the wall, breaking the lid and pouring the powdered contents onto Azriel’s face.

“Shit,” the words come from your lips as your knife finds its mark in the dark haired male’s back. You rush forward, withdrawing the knife before turning him around and plunging it into his throat.

You don’t pay attention as the body falls to the ground, only moving towards Azriel, who was growing unsteady on his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here, I’m here,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. He snatched his arm away from you, and you can’t help the sound that comes from you at his rejection.

He is groaning, sweat beading on his forehead. He leans further against the wall, trying to escape your reach.

“Don’t,” he grits out.

“What is it? Do you know what the powder was?”

Azriel finds his canteen of water, unscrewing the cap and pouring it over his head.

“Az,” you say, but a growl cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he grits again, “don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

He braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily. He finally looks at you, allowing you to see his eyes. Golden irises have been replaced by blown pupils, a black pit of desire. The room is coated in the scent of his arousal.

“Azriel,” you say tersely, “we have to go now, we have to go and see Madja because I have no clue what you inhaled.”

Azriel pushes himself further against the wall as you approach him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

“I can’t- I can’t winnow us out of here,” he says, the words strained. It’s then you notice that his shadows are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared when your attention was fully on the Illyrian in front of you.

You step closer again, and his chest heaves with the groan he lets out.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” The words come out harsh and clipped, a tone he’s never taken with you. You’re trying desperately to think of a solution, a way out of this, when you see Azriel’s hand gripping his thigh, moving closer to his crotch.

His face is red with heat and embarassment, but you can’t look away as he begins to palm himself through his leathers, as if he wasn’t in control of his hand.

“Oh gods,” you say, “this was that experimental breeding shit, wasn’t it?”

Azriel nods, his throat tight with pain.

“Fuck,” you say, and he groans.

You think about what you know about the sickening breeding experiments some of the Illyrians were doing. Previous intel from Az had told you all that they had created this drug that made you-

“Oh my gods,” you say, “we have to-“

“No,” he snarls, “no. I can do this on my own.”

“Come on, Az, you’ll die if you don’t.”

He clinches his hands in a fist, his face turning red with restraint. He looks up at the ceiling, and his eyes are damp. His wings twitch and flutter.

“We don’t know that,” he says, his hand undoing the string on his leather, any control he had over the hand is gone as his hand wraps around his cock and he begins pumping it.

“Am I really that repulsive that you’d rather die than have sex with me?”

A moan comes from his mouth. His voice comes out quiet and strained, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I need it to be real. With you - if we - can we pretend it’s real?”

You stop breathing, his words clanging through your mind. “What do you mean?”

The words. He can’t get the words out. His body is on fire. He’s the Night Court’s spy master, for Cauldron’s sake.

And he can’t fucking move. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

“This isn’t how I ever would have imagined our first time.”

“But you’ve imagined it?”

“Gods, yes.”

You step closer, your hand reaching out towards him. You look into his eyes, wanting to know that it’s okay. All you find in response is pleading. Your hands lightly touch the buckles of his armor, and he gasps, his movements in his pants growing faster at your touch.

A man starved. He gazes up at the ceiling, tears about to leak from his eyes at this entire impossible situation. You were going to ruin him. You were going to break his heart, and then have sex with him to keep this from driving him mad.

It was cruel. The mother was cruel for this.

“I’ve thought a lot about it too,” you whisper, your voice softly carrying through the room.

He whips his head down at you, watching your fingers undo his straps. Your touch cools his body, but not for long.

Desire roars through him, and it is taking every ounce of restraint not to rip off your clothes and take you. He’s fighting the primal instincts that the pollen targets, his hands itching to touch you, to ravish you, opting to focus on your words.

“I always wanted you to confess your undying love for me,” you chuckle, “or, sometimes when I’m alone in the middle of the night, touching myself to you.”

A strangled sob escapes his throat at your words, causing him to notice his surroundings for a second. He can smell you, and it pushes him even further in need.

He can’t stop his hips from moving forward, meeting your own. His hand retracts from his pants, wrapping around you instead to pull you closer. Every word from you causes his resolve to crumble just a bit more as his hips grind against yours.

You were a bit breathless at the action, so you say, “when I’m feeling romantic, you tell me you can’t dare to be away from me for another moment, and you need me.”

A snarl breaks from his lips, causing your arousal to deepen. You are soaked, likely through your leathers.

“But when I’m just needy, I like to imagine you hearing me moaning your name through the door, and you burst in, claiming me as yours.”

His mouth opens as he moans, and you push the fabric of his leathers off his chest, raking your nails down his torso.

“Gods,” he exhales, “I-“

You cut him off, needing to get the words and fantasies you kept so deeply buried out there, future consequences be damned.

“I need you,” you whisper, “I’ve needed you for a long time.”

You were well aware of how much pain he was in trying to delay this for as long as possible.

His eyes are closed as your fingers slide down to the strings of his leathers. You don’t let yourself think too much about what you’re doing, about how the flight home will be, about how after this your teeny, tiny crush on him will be blown out exponentially worse.

Your fingers gently undo the ties, and his hips seek out the heat of your hands, begging for the friction they could provide.

You slide his pants down, his hard, throbbing cock springing free at the loss of its confines. Your mouth dries a bit at the size of him and the blood rushing to both your cheeks and between your hips.

You look from his cock to his face, teeth clenched in restraint.

His eyes open to yours at the sound of your leathers unbuckling, a soft, “no” hitting your ears.

“Azriel,” you start, but a moan escapes him at his name on your tongue.

He starts chanting your name like a prayer, over and over, a cadence to his chantings as you peel off the top of your leathers, exposing the expanse of skin underneath.

The chanting continues as you pull off the bra you wore, baring your chest to him completely. His hand wraps around his cock, the tip already angrily leaking in desperation.

The chanting picks up in tempo as you undo the strings of your own pants, eyes not straying from his as he strokes himself to your half-naked form. You push your pants down, pushing your underwear down as well, pulling them off with your boots, kicking your discarded clothes into a corner.

You walk back towards him, the sounds of his stroking and panting utterly sinful through the room. His breath hitches as you near him, reaching a hand out towards his cock.

“May I?” You ask, and you want to laugh at the formality of it, if you weren’t terrified of him saying no.

He nods lightly, his throat bobbing, and your fingers graze his as you grab onto his cock, wrapping your hand around it. His wings spread out at your grasp, head tilting back.

You take the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his grip on the desk is turning his knuckles white.

Your strokes don’t slow down, and it’s not until now that you feel just how wet you are. You feel bad, your arousal a byproduct of the state he’s in. He can’t help his arousal, but you can help yours.

You don’t let the shame linger for too long as you spread your palm across his chest, pushing him down onto the desk, crawling on top of him as he sinks lower.

His back hits the desk, his large membranous wings spread out behind him. Having him laid out beneath you, you allow yourself a few seconds to take in just how beautiful he was.

His tattoos covered his shoulders, making parts of his skin blend in with the darkness of the desk beneath him. His mouth parted slightly, head tilted back towards the skies, as if asking the heavens to watch your sinful acts.

You climb on top of him, the heat of your body driving him mad with desire.

“Is this okay?” You ask, trepidation coating your words.

“Gods, yes,” he replies, knowing he shouldn’t let this happen, but unable to stop himself. You’re hovering over his cock, the organ twitching as it feels just how close you are to sinking onto him.

The guilt is tampered down by the ever-growing need in his brain to breed, breed, breed. It was absolutely vile whatever these experiments were, but holy gods did it unlock a level of primal need he didn’t think existed.

His hands find your hips, and he can’t control how harshly he pulls you down onto his cock, a sharp inhale coming from you in the painful stretch.

He winces at the noise, but you stop him from allowing self-doubt to run through his head as you lean down and kiss him.

He moans into your mouth, his deep, harsh thrusts making the kiss nothing but teeth clacking and wet noises. Your nails dig into his skin as you keep grinding up and down on his cock, every thrust seemingly feeling deeper and deeper inside of you.

He keeps chanting your name, over and over, into your mouth, and you change the pace of your thrusts to coincide with it. His hands smooth over your hips, gliding up to your breasts. His fingers pinch your nipples, causing your back to arch around his touch.

You know he can’t hold out much longer - he’s painfully close, and so are you. Your stomach’s in knots, desperate for more, more, more. You reach out a gentle hand, caressing the nail on his wing. His eyes shoot open, wings flaring out as he gasps, emptying himself into you.

It causes the same effect in you, the both of you finishing at the same time. His thrusts slowed down, but he kept his tight grip on your hips. You can feel the pads of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving small bruises in their wake. Your foreheads are together, panting as he holds you for a moment.

For one glimmer of a moment, he’s holding onto you, sweat glistening on both of your bodies.

Status report.

Rhys’s voice fills your mind through the tiny opening in your mind you allow him to correspond with you in. You can tell Azriel is getting the same message as his eyes lose their shine, a glossy effect taking over them.

With a heavy heart, you pull off of Azriel, unable to respond to Rhys while his brother’s cock was still inside of you. You start pulling your leathers back on, covering the fluids and marks littering your body - the only proof of what just happened between you two.

The air is tense as Azriel dresses, still speaking with Rhysand. After a moment, his voice comes out, cold and detached.

“Let’s go,” he says, walking out of the room without another word, an icy air following him. Your gaze follows him out the door, before looking around the room.

The stench of sex is in the air, but there’s almost a hint of pain in the aroma. The air is suffocating you - you have to leave, you have to follow Az.

You look to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. Your eyes turn down to gaze at your feet as you slowly trudge out of the room, knowing you likely just ruined your most important friendship.

[seilon]

imma be real with u chief. i really wish i knew how to buy drugs illegally