#rae writes

[athenagranted]

idk if you're still writing the post-cemetry scene fic with pining eddie (idk if i'm describing it right) but i would love to hear more about it/see a snippet or too if you feel so inclined 👀

someone asking about angsty pining fic in the month of our lord april 2024? this was such a lovely surprise 😭 i'm gonna be honest with u anon i'm likely not going to publish 911 fic again BUT because you asked so nicely i'll give you a few older snippets from my draft:

Eddie sighs, breaking the stare. “You have a key, you know,” he says finally. “Feel free to come join me whenever you want.” He turns on his heel and walks back inside to finish his goddamn brownies, leaving Buck standing in the doorway.  It’s silent for a few minutes. He’s in the middle of measuring a tablespoon of espresso powder when Buck steps into the kitchen and shuts the door behind him. Eddie feels the weight of Buck’s gaze on him as he folds the powder into his brownie mixture, but he doesn’t turn to meet his eye until Buck speaks.  “Is that…” Buck falters. He clears his throat. “Is that my recipe?”  “Yeah,” Eddie says gruffly. “Chris asked me to make it. Said he wanted to share it with his friends when they come over tomorrow for their playdate.”  Buck snorts. “Man, you can’t call it that. Chris nearly bit my head off last time I tried. Kept reminding me that ‘playdates are for kids, Buck,’ and that he’s not a kid anymore.”  Buck emphasizes that last bit with air quotes, and Eddie can’t help but grin at that. But his smile fades instantly, remembering the somber look on Buck’s face when he’d opened the door. He highly doubts that Buck came over just to commiserate about the trials and tribulations of watching Christopher grow up.  Eddie bites the bullet. “Why are you here, Buck?”  Buck shifts nervously. He shrugs and looks away from Eddie. “I — I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to answer that. You’ve never asked me that before.”  Eddie scrubs at his face. “I've never had to ask you that, Buck. Things are different now. You’ve been busy.” 

+

“Wow,” Buck says acidly, all traces of heartbreak gone. “I’ve never heard that one before.”  Eddie frowns. “What?”  “Really, Eddie?” Buck’s voice cracks on the last syllable. He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. Just — unbelievable.” “Buck — what are you talking about?”  “We were just trying to protect you, Evan," Buck mocks. "You were never supposed to find out. We kept it from you because we love you. Any of that sound familiar to you?” Eddie’s breath hitches on the word love, because he doesn’t know, he can’t know, but then —  Oh.  Fuck.

+

Buck: We’ll get through this just like everything else. I promise. It’ll be okay.  Buck: Eddie, did you eat enough today? Should I come by and bring you some food? Buck: You know you’re still my best friend, right? That’s never going to change, Eddie. Never.  He reacts with a thumbs up or a tap-back heart on most of the messages, too exhausted to do anything else. He replies with a thumbs down to the message about food, certain that he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Buck so soon. He knows he’ll have to face him in person eventually, but his tired, broken heart just wants to postpone it as much as he can.  The last one, though, is a balm that both soothes and agitates Eddie’s burning, aching heart, and he taps out a brief, Thank you, you too. Always, in response. It feels like too much and not enough all at once, and Eddie wishes once again that he was a little better at resisting Buck, that he didn’t feel that need to reply to his every message lest Buck worry even more about him. The only one he actually acknowledges is a message that comes in at 2:43 AM on Sunday. As he opens the message, Eddie absentmindedly wonders if Buck’s having a hard time falling asleep for the same reason as him. Probably.  It’s a link to a new exhibit at the Griffith Observatory, accompanied by a text that reads: Can I take Christopher here next weekend? Eddie squeezes back tears as he replies with a brief, Of course, and puts his phone down, letting the darkness swallow him again. 

+

Hen beats him to it. “What happened, Buck? I thought you really liked her. Weren’t you planning to introduce her to Maddie and Chimney next week?”  “Not anymore,” Buck mutters. “I broke up with her.”  “What?” Eddie snaps head snaps up. “Why?”  Buck doesn’t meet his gaze, his lip quivering. The rest of their team is watching them, eyes darting back and forth, and Buck blinks hesitantly before swallowing down a sip of coffee. He wipes the cream off of his upper lip and looks Eddie in the eye.  “You know why,” Buck whispers. 

[thru-the-grapevine]

Lady in Red

Pairing: Woozi x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: negative self-talk, petnames (mostly "princess" lol), fingering, unprotected sex; please note reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina

A/N: this is purely self-serving I was having a DAY

It’s finally Friday, you continued to chant in your head. Microsoft Outlook swam in your vision as you did your best to respond to all the emails sent last minute by people who make twice as much as you do. Yet another email full of typos demanding something of you thirty minutes before you clock out. Absolutely not. 

Setting your Teams status to “Busy,” you opted to twirl around in your office chair instead. Much more entertaining than answering bossy emails. Would it bite you in the ass on Monday? Sure. Did you care? Not right now. 

Sighing deeply, you peered at your reflection in the mirror across the hall. Your hair was a mess, sticking up in random directions as you hadn’t had the energy to style it this morning. Working from home had some advantages, but the way you neglected to care for your appearance was not one of them. 

Feeling a little gross suddenly, you picked at a cat hair stuck to your sweatpants. When was the last time you wore something that made you feel pretty? Sure, there was nothing wrong with the hoodie and sweatpants you normally opted for. They kept you warm and cozy as you slaved away to capitalism. 

But every once in a while you missed dressing up. You missed styling your hair, adding little sparkly accessories to it just because. You missed wearing clothes that didn’t make you feel like a lazy slob. 

With a sigh, you glanced back at the computer screen as another email came in. 

“What’s the sigh for, love?” a familiar voice brought a small smile to your face. 

Jihoon stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple pair of sweats and a t-shirt that you knew he chose for the way it hugged his torso, showing off all the hard work he’d put in at the gym lately. 

“Nothing really,” you sighed, not wanting to bother him. He’d been holed up in his studio a lot lately, working tirelessly on Seventeen’s next album. To see him home so early was a rare treat, you didn’t want to ruin it.

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced. He began walking across the room towards you, and suddenly you became hyper-aware of your appearance once again. Anxiously, you began picking more cat hair off your sweatpants, refusing to look Jihoon in the eye. How could you when he looked like a god and you felt like a pig who’d just rolled in mud? 

Jihoon hummed thoughtfully when he reached you. He put his hand under your chin, lifting your head gently to look him in the eye. Ever-observant, you could tell he knew what was wrong. Shame washed over you, but Jihoon just smiled gently. “Sign out of work,” he stated. 

“Now? But it’s not my time yet,” you argued, worried that you’d be caught. 

“Don’t care. They can let you go a little early on a Friday. I want you all to myself tonight,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

You melted into his touch, already nodding and moving to shut down your work computer. They wouldn’t miss you. Probably. 

“Good girl,” Jihoon cooed, still messing with your hair. “Now, I want you to go pamper yourself. Take a long bath, use the nice soap and one of those fancy bath bombs I got you for Christmas. Doll yourself up. I know you’ve been missing it. I want to see my little princess feeling as beautiful as she looks.” 

At the nickname, you felt a rush of heat to your cheeks and your stomach. Blinking nervously, you looked up at him. “But what should I wear?” 

He answered almost instantly. “That red dress I bought you. I’ve been wanting to see you in it for a while now.” 

Your eyes widened. The dress in question was one Jihoon had bought you a few months ago after seeing it at a fashion show he attended. He refused to tell you the price, insisting that no price was too steep for his princess. But still, you were terrified to wear the thing. What if you tripped and the hem tore? What if you spilled something on the front and it stained? No, it was better off safe and sound in the back of your closet. 

“But-” you tried to say. 

Jihoon frowned. “Are you trying to argue with me?” 

You gulped. “No, sir.” 

“Good. Now go. I’ll order our favorite for dinner,” he said, bending down to give your cheek a gentle kiss. 

“We’re not going out?” you asked, bewildered. Why did he want you to wear the dress then? 

Jihoon smiled and shook his head, his long, dark hair flopping almost cutely as he did so. “I told you; I want you to myself tonight.” 

And with that he ushered you into the bathroom, even helping you pick out a bath bomb. Then he shut the door behind him and left you to decide how best to pamper yourself. At first you just stood there, unsure of what to do. How do you even pamper yourself? When was the last time you had a self-care day? 

Slowly, your brain kicked into gear. You turned the faucets on to nice and hot. When the tub was filled, you plopped the bath bomb in and spent a couple minutes watching the colors spread. Jihoon made sure all of the bath bombs he got you were purple - your favorite color. This one was a deep plum and smelled floral. It was lovely. 

You stripped out of your clothes, grabbed your shaving kit, and eased yourself down into the hot water. This time your sigh was one of relief as the heat eased your stiff muscles. You hadn’t realized how tense you were. 

You let yourself soak for a while, just vegetating and allowing yourself to empty your thoughts. You should’ve brought a book and a glass of wine with you. Oh well, next time. And you made the promise to yourself that there will definitely be a next time. 

Eventually, you felt the water begin to grow lukewarm and you decided to shave your legs and bathe. It felt like you were washing away the stress of the week. Every mistake you made and every scolding you got from higher-ups just fading into the background.

After you were clean and your hair was washed, you wrapped yourself in the fluffiest towel you owned and made the (chilly) trek to your bedroom. There you stared, still clad in only towel, at the beautiful red dress you laid out on your bed. It truly was gorgeous. The deep red, Jihoon’s favorite color, was complimented by silver embellishments. The swirly designs graced the flowy skirt, and the sleeves also flowed gracefully. 

Taking a deep breath, you eased yourself carefully into the dress, pleased to find it fit perfectly. Of course Jihoon had it tailored to you. He knew every inch of your body by heart. 

Deciding that if you’re going to wear this dress, you might as well go all out. You pulled out your slightly dusty makeup bag and pulled out your favorite eyeshadow palette along with the rest of your makeup. You took your time dolling your face up, feeling the icky feeling from earlier fading from your mind. 

Finally satisfied with your look, you floofed you hair to give it some volume, allowing the curls to do their thing as they air dried. Lastly you picked out some jewelry, also gifted to you by Jihoon, and slipped on a pair of sparkly silver heels. 

Nervously you peeked out of your bedroom. Then you ambled down the hall to the living room where Jihoon was waiting, the TV playing some variety show quietly in the background as he scrolled on his phone. 

Hearing the click clack of your heels, he looked up and you swear you watched his pupils dilate. 

“Holy shit,” he said, standing up. He’d changed too, now sporting a black button down with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black slacks. “That dress is fucking perfect on you, princess,” he all but growled. He took your hand and gave you a twirl, admiring the way your cheeks flushed with his compliment. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shy. “It’s really a beautiful dress. I don’t think I could ever make it up to you for giving it to me.” 

“Don’t give me that,” he said, gently flicking your forehead. “It’s more than enough reward to just see you in this, my gorgeous girl.” 

Your brain was swirling with the compliments. Jihoon wasn’t often outspoken about how much he adored you, opting usually for acts of service and gifts and small gestures to make sure you felt loved. But sometimes, when you were feeling down, he allowed his walls to come down and finally tell you what he always felt. 

The two of you ate dinner, just some simple takeout from your favorite Korean restaurant nearby, and chatted. You were very careful not to spill any sauce on your dress. 

After dinner, Jihoon cleaned up the table, refusing to allow you to lift a finger. “Princesses don’t clean,” he chastised. 

You grumbled, “Princes don’t either…” 

Jihoon laughed at your obstinance and couldn’t help planting another kiss on your cheek. “Cute.” 

After he cleaned up, Jihoon began fiddling with his phone and some speakers he’d bought. You watched him in confusion until a waltz came on. Jihoon walked over to you, bowed, and held out his hand.

You shyly took it and allowed him to pull you up, wrapping an arm around your waist. Then, as if he’d practiced the waltz for years, he began to teach you the steps. 

The two of you danced slowly around the living room, careful to not bump into the table. Slowly you grew more confident in your dancing and allowed yourself to relax into the steps. Jihoon smiled at you and pulled you a bit closer. Your chest bumped against his, and you could’ve sworn you heard a sharp intake of breath from him. 

Before you could ask what’s wrong, Jihoon captured your lips in a heated kiss, not once breaking step. When you broke apart, you stared up at him, lips parted in surprise. Jihoon felt a tightening in his pants at the innocent look on your face. “As much as I love seeing you in this dress, I can’t fucking wait to take it off you,” he said. 

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your core. Jihoon pulled you closer, allowing you to feel the growing tent in his pants. But still, the song wasn’t done, so he continued to twirl you around. You were growing impatient and tried nipping at his bottom lip to let him know. 

“Uh uh,” he said, “patience little princess. The song will be over soon. For now, let me get one last look at you in the dress I picked out for you.” 

And with a twirl, Jihoon’s eyes raked up and down your body, taking note of the way the bodice of the dress hugged your breasts. He loved the way the dress poofed out, teasing him by hiding your legs from him. 

When the song ended, it was like something snapped inside him. Jihoon pushed you backwards until you landed with a soft “oof” on the couch. He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head with one hand, the other hand holding the side of your face as he kissed you passionately. His knee found your clothed core, hiking up your skirts that fell around your thighs. 

“So fucking pretty for me,” he whispered in your ear. “Getting all dolled up just for me to ruin you. But you like that, don’t you little girl? You like it when your prince corrupts you.” 

Flushing, you nodded, unable to deny him. You did love dressing up for him. You did love when he absolutely ruined you. You loved every bit about him, the way he kissed you, the way he comforted you when you were upset, the way he quietly but firmly took care of you just as much as you cared for him. 

Jihoon’s hand trailed its way from your face to your neck to your chest. His lips followed suit and you gasped when he bit down on the top of your breast, tongue gently soothing the skin immediately after. 

He dropped your hands to start fumbling with the buttons in the back of your dress, hands slipping a little in his eagerness. He huffed. “This is taking too long.” Then he shocked you by ripping the back of the dress open. You felt several buttons pop off and yelped. 

“Jihoon!” 

“I’ll have it fixed later, now come here,” he responded before latching onto your breast. 

You yelped again, which turned into a breathy moan as he ran his tongue over your nipple. His other hand made its way down to your thigh to squeeze it. 

Jihoon’s focus shifted to your thighs and he knelt down to pepper kisses all up your thigh, leaving a hickey or two as well. You wiggled as his lithe fingers found your clothed core. 

“Mmm, my princess is so wet for me already,” he hummed. He bunched the dress’s skirts up higher, then took his time pulling the matching red panties down. 

Jihoon licked his lips at the sight of your soaking wet core, his dick straining painfully in his pants. You whimpered and reached out for him. Tilting his head, he stood up and leaned in close to you. 

Happily, you pulled him close and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. You felt yourself grow wetter at the feeling of his hard muscles beneath your hands. Jihoon watched your face as you concentrated on not fumbling on the buttons. Your breasts spilled out of the torn dress, and your thighs were practically begging him to come kiss them again. Your hair was already disheveled, and he found you the most beautiful person in the world. 

Finally, his shirt was off and flung to the floor. Greedily, you pulled him in for more kisses, and Jihoon was happy to oblige. While you were distracted, his hand made its way under your skirts. You let out a gasp as he inserted a finger and began pumping, his thumb circling your clit. 

Jihoon swallowed your breathy gasps greedily, hitting your g-spot expertly with every thrust of his finger. You whimpered when he inserted a second finger, and Jihoon groaned at the way your pussy practically swallowed his fingers. 

“You’re so tight, pretty girl,” he groaned, yet despite his words he inserted a third finger, making you cry out. 

His pumping didn’t slow down, even as your gasps grew higher in pitch. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening already, the stress from the week having left you wound up. 

Between Jihoon’s fingers and his thumb circling your clit, it wasn’t long before you were crying out his name in pleasure, your thighs trembling as you rode out your high. 

Jihoon waited until you were back down to earth before removing his fingers and licking your release off them. You watched through heavy-lidded eyes as you tried to catch your breath. 

Jihoon began unbuttoning his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in one go. His dick sprang free, red and dripping with precum. You groaned, mouth watering, but Jihoon pushed you back on the couch. 

“Not tonight, princess. Tonight I spoil you, just as you deserve,” he cooed. 

You blinked up at him, pouting. “But-” 

He put a finger to your lips, shushing you. “Don’t argue, little girl. Don’t worry, I’m being greedy too. I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.” 

At the dirty talk, you closed your mouth, no longer even remotely tempted to argue with him. 

“Good girl,” Jihoon said before entering you with a groan. 

You moaned helplessly at the way he filled you up. He waited a moment before his patience ran out, and he began to move. 

Jihoon fucked you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. Maybe you were in his mind, you could never know. But the way he buried himself in you and the way he moaned your name gave you little doubt of his affection. He knew your body better than you did, hitting that spot that made you see stars every single time. 

“Jihoon- ah! I’m- I’m gonna-” you tried to speak but the pleasure was overtaking you. Your mind just chanted his name over and over, and all you saw was his body over yours, his cock entering you with every thrust. 

“Cum for me, princess. Let me hear your pretty moans,” Jihoon said, increasing his speed as he felt himself racing towards his finish. 

You came hard, throwing your head back in a silent scream as your entire body trembled in Jihoon’s grasp. Feeling your cunt convulse around him, Jihoon’s pace grew erratic until he too came with a loud moan, spilling into you. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he came down from his own high. 

After a moment of heavy breathing, Jihoon moved off of you, pulling out of you. He watched as his cum leaked out of you. Frowning, he pushed it back into you, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

You flushed at the feeling, so full and satisfied. You gave Jihoon a dopey smile that he happily returned. “Always so good for me, pretty girl,” he crooned. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He scooped you up, your dress still halfway on your body, and carried you to the bathroom. He took the dress the rest of the way off you and turned on the faucets of the tub again, wetting a washcloth to clean you. 

“Next time, I’m buying you a purple dress.” 

[raethereptile]

Maverick pisses off another Admiral.

But instead of trying to ship him off to Antartica or somewhere equally unpleasant, this Admiral sits him down.

"Ok, what's going on Mitchell? Because, your guardian angel normally would have called by now."

And Mav just breaks down.

Sobbing his fucking heart out, and the Admiral just *oh god what have I done* panic pats him on the back and makes soothing noises.

The whole thing comes out, Ice's cancer, Mav not being there for him because he pissed off an Admiral at the wrong time and now he's stuck here and he's trying goddammit but the Navy doesn't want what he's got not really and ice is the only one who sees his worth and that so fucking selfish because it shouldn't be about him not right now but I can't do this without him and how he should fucking be there but what good will he be when all he does is cause trouble but ice shouldn't be alone I'm his wingman goddammit and what if he dies oh god oh god oh god-

Later, much later, after Mavs been sent to his bunk, the Admiral sits at his desk with a finger of whiskey and thinks why not.

Ice looks up at the nock on his office door.

Maverick walks in, sheepish but with worried eyes. He's fiddling with the file in his hands nervously.

"What are you doing here? Oh god, did you piss off another Admiral? What-"

Mav clears his throat, "I've been reassigned."

"Goddammit! Where? You know I need to be told as soon as possible to mitigate the damage! Why didn't anyone call me? Why didn't you call me?! Where-"

Mav hands him the file, "Captain Mitchell, reporting for duty, sir."

Ice freezes.

He opens the file.

Mavs been reassigned to work for him, if he wants him.

Oh.

Oh.

He looks up and smiles.

[c2pidstrn]

𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 - 𝘮.𝘴

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘥𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦

not proofread

word count : 1001

༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

matt was your best friend, but little did you know that he had a huge crush on you. he felt so shy and vulnerable around you. you’ve been friends with the triplets since elementary school, and he’s always had these thoughts of wanting to be with you.

you had gone over to the triplets house and spent some time with them on the couch playing fortnite. you put your legs on matt’s lap, and he tensed a little bit. you thought nothing of it as you assumed he was tensed up due to the fact they were playing the game. you scrolled through your phone completely oblivious to what matt was thinking.

matt’s thoughts were running wild, and he felt your foot slightly graze against his dick. he tenses at the feeling. he tries to play it off and make it seem like nothing was happening. he thought about how you would feel against him and how you would sound.

he felt his dick get hard, he had to leave the room. but he didn’t want to make it suspicious. he cleared his throat and quickly stood up

“ima go to the bathroom” he blurted out in a hurry and started walking super fast to the bathroom.

“he must really need to use the bathroom” chris giggles

you were flooded with confusion as to why he left in such a hurry. but paid no mind to it, and continued watching chris and nick play.

matt slammed the bathroom door shut and panted heavily. he felt so guilty thinking about you that way. but the way he thought about your tits, or the way he thought about how you would feel pressed on him made his cock stiffen. his cock was begging to be released as it throbbed against the fabric material.

he began to palm himself through his pants. he grew impatient and began to pull his pants down. he hissed at the cold air hitting his throbbing tip. he whined softly, while using his pre-cum to lubricate his shaft. he let out soft moans, trying not to be super loud.

“holy shit” he whimpered

he started to pick up the pace of his strokes, and threw his head back against the door. he started to imagine you giving him head, and teasing him. he thought about how it would feel to have your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. his whines getting louder and louder the faster he stroked. he began to thrust into his hand instead to feed into the imagination of it being you.

just before he could get close to release there was a knock at the door. he quickly pulled his hand away from his cock, and pulled up his pants.

“matt?” you said softly.

his heart dropped when he heard your voice. 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦? he thought while slightly panicking.

“y-yea?” he stuttered

“matty, can you open the door please?”

with that he slowly opened the door, and peaked his head out a bit. you were concerned about him. his face was flushed red, and he was sweaty. you pushed him back and walked into the bathroom. you closed the door behind you and looked at him with concern.

“are you okay? you seem very out of it”

“oh, um yea. i’m totally fine”

he felt his heart in his throat. he couldn’t just say ‘𝘰𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢 𝘣𝘵𝘸, 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'. he was praying that you wouldn’t ask any questions about that. he felt his cock still throbbing with pain. he needed to handle it, but he couldn’t with you in the bathroom.

you went in for a hug, and was immediately caught off guard by feeling his boner against your thigh. he let out a slight groan, but tried to cover it up with a cough. you knew exactly what he was doing before you knocked on the door.

“do you need help with that?” you say softy while making eye contact with him

“you don’t have to”

you went down onto your knees and looked up at him before pulling his pants down. he gave you a nod, and you teasingly pulled it down. you saw a wet patch on his boxers and watched in awe as his dick throbbed against the thin material.

“poor baby, you must be so desperate to be touched” you cooed

he whined, you pulled his boxers down and was in shock to see how big he was. it made your core throb just looking at it. you teasingly kissed his tip multiple times. you watched as he tried not to buckle his hips forward. he felt so vulnerable and needy.

“please.. i want you to suck me off so bad” he whimpers

“i will handsome, just give me a moment”

soon enough you shoved his length down your throat. you bobbed your head up and down at a good pace. but this pace wasn’t fast enough for him. he let out broken moans and started to pant heavily. attempting to hold himself back from thrusting deeper into your throat.

“i- i need more. can i just fuck your face instead?” he cries out in desperation

you give him a nod, and he immediately grabs your head and starts to fuck your face. you start to feel your core throb even more in need of being touched. you put your hand down your shorts and started to rub circles on your clit. he threw his head back trying to keep a good pace. you let out little moans against his length which sent him over the edge.

“oh fuck, i’m about to cum.” he groans

just as he says that he comes to an abrupt stop. holding your head in place while loads of cum shoots down your throat. he lets out a low groan and slowly pulls out of your mouth.

“matt, i need you so bad right now” you exclaim

“let’s continue this in my room”

𝘱𝘵.2??

𝘪𝘥𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬!

[punishandenslavesuckers]

A piece of fanart submitted to my AO3 one-shot, “Dreamcatcher”. A short fic about the Corinthian getting captured while on mission outside The Dreaming. Fanartist wishes to remain anonymous but said they would not be opposed to my sharing to fandom. ❤️ Happy Corintheus Week, y’all!

AO3 (mind the TWs before reading!)

[raepritewrites]

If Heather were ever to write a memoir about being a superhero, she was going to include an entire chapter about what to do when you get sucked into a portal, because it was a surprisingly frequent hazard of the job and was confusing as hell if you didn't know what you were doing.

Fortunately, she’d been through this song and dance a few times, so she started with gathering the basics. Who, what, where, how, and when?

First, who? Some c-lister villain who called himself Vibe. The team had been working on a case of break-ins where banks would be robbed through some sort of portal technology. In and out, easy as pie, with almost no trace left behind. The guy was slick she could give him that.

Nightwing had theorized the guy might have a teleport ray, judging by the tachyon readings they were getting. Further investigation, however, and a quick conversation with Flash had revealed that Vibe was a meta created from the particle accelerator explosion of Central City, which had given the speedster his own powers. It hadn't been too hard to track the guy down from there.

Second, what? Well, bad guy plus warehouse equals superhero fight. It had just been Nightwing, Superboy, and herself who went to track down and capture the meta. The rest of the squads had all been busy on other assignments, and really, how hard could it be to take this guy down with three of their heavy hitters on it?

Apparently, harder than they'd thought.

Vibe, it seemed, was just as slick at evading capture as burglary. The idea had been for Nightwing and Scarlet Spider to wear the guy out and keep him distracted until Superboy could get in a final hit. It had briefly worked, and then everything went wrong.

Scarlet probably shouldn't have antagonized Vibe so much, but it was fun winding bad guys up. She and Nightwing had come up with some good lines as they danced around the teleporter. She had so much experience fighting alongside Nightcrawler that she assumed she could guess this guy's next move without any trouble. He would zig, she would zag. She'd been... a little too confident. Her spider sense had warned her of the danger as she swung towards Vibe for one more kick to the gut, but her momentum had been too strong, and there was no avoiding the inevitable.

Vibe had realized the game they'd been playing with him and grabbed Superboy as he'd tried to sneak up from behind, flinging him over his shoulder and into her. They'd crashed into Nightwing in a pile of tangled limbs and curses.

By the time Scarlet Spider looked up, Vibe had a new portal open behind him. "As fun as this has been, I'll be taking my leave now. This earth has always been a little too hero-happy for my tastes," the man smirked and saluted them, stepping backwards into the swirl of blue and white light.

If Heather had a nickle for every time she made a very stupid last-minute decision, she and Bruce Wayne would be in the same tax bracket. This was just another five cents in her fictional bank account. She sent a webline to the ceiling, propelling her up and off of her teammates and into the portal, which promptly closed behind her.

Third question, where?

On the other side of the portal, it dawned on Heather very quickly how stupid she was as she found herself free-falling. High-rises and skyscrapers rushed past her in a blur as she struggled to orient herself.

Some part of her brain that sounded a lot like her step-father screamed at her to throw a webline, and after two desperate attempts failed to land on anything, her third try caught a gargoyle. Her arm wrenched in its socket from the abrupt change in trajectory, and she gritted her teeth to stifle the howl of agony that crawled up her throat. She looked around desperately and spotted a rooftop not far away that she could reach.

Her landing was less than ideal, tumbling head over heels before rolling to a painful stop on the tarmac. She lay for a moment to let the panic subside, panting heavily from the spasms radiating from her arm and down her torso. She stared up at a smog filled night sky and the glowing neon sign of an office building as her brain rebooted.

Once she could hear more than just her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, she took stock of her situation. While she'd torn a few muscles in her arm, the damage was minimal compared to being a smear on the sidewalk. She'd twisted her ankle when she'd landed, and it throbbed in a familiar way - not broken, but definitely sprained. Everything else seemed negligible; cuts, scrapes, and general bruises. She would deal.

She sat up slowly and frowned at the office building's sign, declaring it to be one of Wayne Enterprises' headquarters. Why Vibe had thought running to Gotham was a good idea was anyone's guess.

She checked her comm, but only received static in reply, no matter what frequency she tried. Maybe it had been damaged in the fall? Her phone worked, but had no signal at all, not even wifi. That was strange; WE had public wifi available at all there buildings. She needed to reach the team somehow to let them know her status, and that despite her best (very stupid) efforts their suspect was in the wind. She wasn't sure where the closest zeta beam was from here, but maybe she could reach Nightwing a different way.

Did Heather feel bad breaking into the department store? Yes, a little, but desperate times and all that.

She'd grabbed a pair of jeans, a belt (because of course the jeans didn't fit right, but she didn't have the luxury of time on her side to find a pair that did), and an oversized sweatshirt. She dropped a pre-paid credit card on the counter with the tags of the items she was stealing, hoping the owners wouldn't be too mad at her. She then made triple sure that all the cameras she'd covered in webbing were still technically functional -just ineffective for a few hours - and grabbed a shopping bag from the register to stuff her gear into it.

Outside the store, it had begun raining, because this was Gotham and she had Parker luck. It was only natural. After trudging through the rain for a few blocks, Heather finally hailed a cab in a more populated part of the city. The clock on the dash of the taxi read a little after four am, and the driver looked like he wasn't thrilled to have found a customer.

"I need to get to Bristol," Heather told him, trying to be short but polite.

The cabby raised an eyebrow at her, blowing smoke from his cigarette out his cracked window. "That's going to cost you, lady," he told her flatly. "If you hadn't noticed, this is the Diamond District, that's a long drive."

"If you can get me there quickly, I'll pay you double the fare in tip," Heather promised.

Both eyebrows went up at that. "You're the boss," he shrugged and pulled away from the curb.

Once they reached Bristol, Heather had the cab drop her off at the Drake Estate, a few miles from Wayne Manor. She didn't think the cab driver really cared about where this woman in ill-fitting clothes was going at the crack of dawn out in the most expensive neighborhood in Gotham. But just in case someone asked him about it later, she didn't want him saying he'd dropped the weird woman off at Brucie Wayne's mansion. Never could be too careful.

True to her word, Heather had tipped extra generously, and the cab had taken off as soon as she was out of the backseat.

She glanced down the Drake's long driveway to where their modern estate could be seen peaking out between the tall trees and frowned distastefully. Shaking off her feelings towards Tim's parents, she settled into a fast walk and headed towards Wayne Mansion in the thinning rain.

By the time she reached the front gates, the rain was just mist that was slowly being burned off by the morning sun, and she was soaked to the bone. Wiping water off her face, she buzzed the intercom and hoped Alfred wouldn't be mad at her for the early morning call.

"Wayne Residence, may I help you?" His British accent came through the intercom sounding slightly tinny.

"Good morning, I need to speak to Dick Grayson or Bruce Wayne. It's Heather Reilly."

There was a long pause, too long. "Do you have an appointment?"

Heather frowned. "No, not exactly. Listen, I know it's early, but I really need to talk to Dick or Mr. Wayne."

"Master Wayne is a very busy man, young lady," Alfred began, in a clearly dismissive voice.

"Wait, please! It's..." she frowned harder, brow furrowing as an uneasy feeling filled her gut. "It's Heather, Mr. Pennysworth. You know, Heather? Dick's friend? We've... I mean, don't you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid your name is not familiar to me, and young Master Dick no longer resides here at the manor. Good day, young lady." The intercom clicked off and Heather stood blinking at it for several seconds.

"What the actual fuck?" She finally muttered.

Alfred Pennyworth did not know who she was. He had dismissed her with the same polite but frosty way she'd seen him dismiss hopeful gold diggers who hung off of Bruce at parties. As her brain processed this information, something else occurred to her as well.

Vibe. He had said something just before he disappeared. That their earth was too hero-happy. Their earth. As if there was more than one.

"Well, shit," Heather sighed sharply, rubbing at a pounding headache that was beginning to build behind her eyes.

Apparently, Vibe wasn't just a teleporter like her fiance, and perhaps their assessment of him as a c-lister villain was a bit hasty. Because apparently the sucker could warp not just around the world, but also apparently around the freaking multiverse?! And Heather, dumbass extraordinaire, had followed him to a parallel universe. Which meant that the only way she was ever going to get home was to find the bastard again, and there was no way she'd be able to do that on her own.

Fourth question, how?

Heather felt significantly more guilty sneaking onto the Wayne Manor estate than she had breaking into the department store.

She hoped that her Dick and Bruce - if she ever saw them again - would understand that she hadn't meant to memorize the defenses around the estate. Really, it was more Bruce's fault than hers.

She'd spent so much time working for the man, digging through the batcomputer's files and doing the menial grunt work to help hone her skills, that of course at some point she'd gotten bored and started studying the layout of the grounds and where all the motion detectors were hidden. She was only human... well, kind of. Sort of. Not important right now.

She didn't know for certain that this version of Bruce Wayne would use the same layout for his home's defenses. Hell, she wasn't even certain that this version had even become Batman. Maybe the man actually was a clueless socialite in this universe. But Heather had a gut feeling that she couldn't shake.

Like, sure, maybe there were universes out there where that was true. But... could there really be a universe where Bruce Wayne had never become Batman, and yet he'd still taken in Dick, who then would coincidentally also have a falling out with the man and move to Bludhaven? The whole reason her Dick had moved to that awful city was to establish himself as Nightwing.

Heather knew she was holding onto a thin string of hope here. But if she was wrong, she might never make it back home, and that possibility was too terrifying to even consider.

Her universe had found multiple ways to kick her in the teeth and drag her down, over and over again. Yet, that universe was her home, and she was still standing. She'd gotten back up each time with the help of her family and friends. She would figure this out, and she would come home to them.

There wasn't an option for failure.

By the time she was standing in front of the massive doors of the manor, her shoulder and ankle were starting to throb in time with her heartbeat. The sun had burned off the remaining rain and she estimated it was closer to six or seven am now. Despite knowing she looked like a drowned rat, Heather attempted to have some dignity as she straightened her clothes, pushed back her slick hair, and reached up to knock.

"I'll get it, Alfred," She heard a young male voice on the other side of the door, and she had just enough time to think Tim when a seventeen year old boy with dark hair opened the door.

Heather blinked. This... was not her Tim. Her Tim was still thirteen and only recently reached her shoulder in height. Yet, the haircut, the blue eyes, the sharp features, all of it definitely screamed Tim Drake.

The boy frowned at her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," Heather floundered for a second, unsure. She hadn't anticipated speaking to anyone other than Alfred, Dick or Bruce. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's um, it's been a rough night. My name is Heather Reilly. You're Tim, right? I'm a friend of Dick Grayson's, and I really need his help."

"You again?" Alfred was suddenly behind Tim, wearing the most severe frown she'd ever seen on the man.

It immediately made her step back a half pace and her shoulders hunch. No one, not even her own parents, could make Heather feel like a small naughty child the way Mr. Pennyworth could. There was a reason even Batman deferred to him. "I was quite firm young lady. How did you manage to get past the front gate?"

Translation: How did you avoid all of Batman's security? Heather thought, but of course they wouldn't know that she knew about any of that.

"Please, Mr. Pennyworth, if you just let me explain the situation," Heather began, trying not to wither under his stony stare.

"How do you know Dick?" Tim interrupted. He looked just as suspicious as Alfred, but there was something else in his stare, curiosity or something like it. Tim, like Bruce, was a detective and Heather could tell she'd piqued his interest.

"Dick and I are old friends," She said quickly, latching onto Tim's interest like a lifeline. "We met when we were teenagers. We, uh, had a lot in common. Listen, if Dick isn't here could I at least use your phone? I lost mine, and if I can't talk to Dick, then I need to try and call another friend."

"Are you in trouble?" Alfred asked, looking a modicum less severe than before.

"Very much so, sir,'' Heather nodded, shifting her weight only to wince as she placed too much onto her bad ankle. "Shit," she hissed, unable to keep the curse in.

"What happened?" Tim asked, opening the door wider.

"I... fell," She said lamely, scratching the back of her neck. How could she explain that it was from a height of several stories? Oh, right, she couldn't. "Twisted my ankle. It's fine, I'm a fast healer."

Tim and Alfred exchanged a long look, and only years of working with the bats helped her parse out its full meaning. They didn't trust her, clearly. They thought she might even be lying, but they weren't going to leave someone soaking wet and obviously injured outside on their doorstep.

Alfred hummed, still displeased, "You may use the phone in the library, follow me. Master Tim, would you please bring me the first aid kit?"

"Sure, Alfie," Tim sent one more scrutinizing stare her way before disappearing into what she knew was a supply closet.

She followed the butler into the library, wincing as she dripped rainwater onto the expensive rugs. He led her to an antique secretary desk with a rotary phone on it, because apparently in every universe Bruce Wayne was that kind of old money rich, and insisted she sit down on the oak desk chair. Tim reappeared shortly, carrying both a first aid kit and a towel, the latter of which Heather took gratefully as she sat her plastic bag full of gear onto the floor.

Heather carefully squeezed water out of her hair, mindful of her shoulder as Alfred looked through the kit. "If you would remove your boot, Miss Reilly, I will check your ankle."

"Oh, I mean, you don't have to-" Heather began, the towel now draped over her shoulders.

"I insist," Alfred said firmly but not unkindly.

"You might as well let him look," Tim said with a chuckle. He was leaning against one of the many floor to ceiling bookcases. "He won't take no for an answer."

"Right, I knew that," Heather muttered, shaking her head. She missed the puzzled frowns Tim and Alfred shared as she reached down and started unlacing her combat boots.

Spider-Man and her father preferred their costumes with matching boots and gloves, the web design visible from top to bottom. But she'd long ago chosen steel toed black boots and fingerless black leather gloves for herself. She liked that it made the uniform her own, along with a modified version of her father's blue hoodie - cropped, slightly darker in hue, and made of a resilient Kevlar. The Scarlet Spider silhouette was still recognizable as the one Ben Reilly once wore, but she'd made it hers, and she knew her dad would have approved.

She got the boot off and peeled off her wet sock, hissing as the fabric stuck around the swollen ankle joint before finally coming free. Of course, it was the ankle she'd broken previously, that was just her luck.

"Okay, it's a little worse than I thought," she admitted quietly as Alfred examined the injury.

"You seemed pretty confident it was just a sprain," Tim observed casually.

Bruce hasn't taught him all his tricks yet, Heather thought as she considered how to answer Tim's obviously prying question. "Not the first time," she said as she watched Alfred pull out a roll of bandages. "I'm clumsy."

Before Tim could form his next question, a voice called out, "Drake? Pennyworth?" This was followed shortly by a boy, maybe fourteen years old, coming into the library. He was also dark haired, but much tanner than Tim and his eyes were brown. There was something oddly familiar about the kid that Heather couldn't put her finger on.

"Who is this?" The boy demanded.

"Manners, Master Damian," Alfred chided him as he finished wrapping Heather's ankle. "It's best you remove your other boot as well, Miss, to give them a chance to dry out."

Heather nodded, "right, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Damian, this is Heather. She says she's a friend of Dick's," Tim explained.

"Richard has never mentioned you," Damian said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He spoke with the slightest accent, something Middle Eastern that Heather couldn't pin down, and the more she looked at his face the more she was sure she knew him from somewhere.

"We're, uh, very old friends," Heather explained awkwardly. "We haven't seen each other in a long time." Or ever, in this universe's case.

"Tt," Damian scoffed, sharing glances with Alfred and Tim. He wasn't even attempting to hide how suspicious he thought she was. It was sort of refreshing. "Richard isn't home. He's running errands with Father."

Now Heather was narrowing her eyes, her head tilting to the side as a memory came to her. Of a painting that hung in her universe's version of Wayne Manor featuring Thomas and Martha Wayne posing with their young son. Bruce was solemn, even as a child, and Damian had the same set to his jaw.

"Oh my god," she breathed as it clicked, suddenly standing as she pointed at the boy. "You're Bruce's kid. Like, his bio kid, aren't you?"

The others gave her various confused reactions. Alfred raised one eyebrow, Tim frowned, and Damian crossed his arms haughtily.

"Of course, I am," the younger boy snapped, like he thought Heather was an idiot. Which was fair. She kind of was most days, even she could admit that. "How do you not know who I am?"

"I -" She dropped her arm and rubbed her neck. "Right, yeah, that's an excellent question." She sighed. "Okay, truthfully? I am friends with Dick, but... not your Dick?" They frowned at her, and she couldn't blame them.

"Look, I'm going to level with you. I'm not from this universe. I work with Dick on my earth with a team of heroes. We were fighting this guy - Vibe? I did something monumentally stupid, and I ended up here. I didn't realize until I was already talking with Alfred that I was even in the wrong universe because my Alfred has known me for years. I worked with Batman for a while when I was a teenager, back when Dick was still Robin, and-"

"What are you talking about?" Tim interrupted her nervous ramblings. "Why do you think we know anything about Batman?" He added angrily. Damian looked ready to commit murder, and Alfred had disappeared at some point.

Heather groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, let's just cut past the song and dance, okay? I know all about Bruce, I have for years. In my universe, he gave me almost full access to the batcomputer's files. I trained with Robin in the batcave. I know about the entrance behind the grandfather clock in Bruce's study-"

Heather realized a few beats too late that was probably not the best way to break the news.

Damian was suddenly in her face with a knife at her throat pulled from seemingly nowhere. She reacted instinctively, grabbing the boy's wrist, twisting it down until he dropped the dagger. She pushed him into Tim, who'd been pulling out his collapsible bo staff. She'd turned with the intention of escaping through the library's other exit, but only made it a few strides when the sound of a shotgun being loaded stopped her dead in her tracks.

Right, that would be Alfred, she thought numbly, lifting her hands up as high as her injured shoulder would allow before dropping to her knees.

"Do not move," Alfred ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"How did you disarm me so easily?" Damian demanded, stomping around to glare at her.

Heather gave him a small smile, which only made him angrier. "You remind me of my sister," she said instead of answering.

"I don't know what your game is," Tim told her, "but we're not playing. What do want with Dick?"

"First, poor word choice," Heather smirked at him over her shoulder. He glared back at her flatly, and she rolled her eyes. "My Tim has a much better sense of humor. I already told you exactly why I'm here. I'm in the wrong universe, and I need Batman and Nightwing to help me get home."

"Why do you keep insisting my father is the Batman?" Damian asked.

Heather sighed. "Look, we could keep going around and around on this all day, but I don't have that kind of time. Either call up Dick and Bruce so we can discuss this like adults, or-"

"Or what?" Alfred asked, suddenly reminding her there was a very protective butler with a gun pointed at her.

Heather pursed her lips, considering. "Why don't you take me down to the cave? You guys probably have a holding cell like my Batman does. You can keep me under lock and key until I can convince you I'm telling the truth, or until you can get someone from the League to come down who can wipe my memory if I can't."

"Or we could take you to Arkham Aslyum now," Damian suggested.

Heather took a deep breath, trying to be patient. Not like it could hold me. "It's up to you," she finally said.

Damian walked behind her so the three could share a whispered conference. Heather tried very hard not to hear them by humming under her breath, but it was a lost cause. Damian was coming up with some very creative forms of interrogation tactics, but was ultimately overruled by Tim and Alfred.

"Alright, let's go," Tim finally sighed. "Hands behind your back, and just keep in mind Alfred is a very good shot." She saw him pulling a pair of handcuffs from the corner of her eye.

"You're going to want to use something stronger than that," she told them mildly as Tim grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back. Tim hesitated for a moment, before Damian handed him something she couldn't see. She bit back a hiss of pain as they used what felt like metal cording from a grappel gun to bind her hands, then used the remaining cord to wrap around her arms and chest.

Better, she thought as Tim and Damian pulled her to her feet, but still not enough. Ah well, I'll let them have this one.

They blindfolded her before taking her to the batcave, maybe so they could still have plausible deniability. Heather let the boys lead her to the elevator, her spider-sense keeping her aware of Alfred's shotgun aimed at her chest. When the elevator stopped, her bare feet were treading the rock of the cave's floor as the boys prodded her along, her injured ankle really resenting the cold seeping into her bones. She couldn't surpress a small shiver, suddenly aware of her still soaking wet stolen clothes that were clinging to her.

"Relax, we're not going to hurt you," Tim murmured, misinterpreting her shudder.

"Unless you give us a reason too," Damian added, less meanly than he could have.

Huh, maybe the kid wasn't as blood thirsty as he seemed. I wonder who his mom is? I don't think it's Selina. He doesn't look anything like her. Heather pondered this little mystery until she heard a metal cage door opening and she was gently pushed inside the holding cell. Someone pulled off the blindfold before they locked her in. She blinked her eyes to help them adjust to the new lighting, taking in the somewhat familiar landscape around her.

"Good to know the giant penny and t-rex are consistent in every universe," Heather observed. "Still ridiculous, but consistent."

"Master Bruce and Master Dick are on their way," Alfred said, lowering the gun slightly but not putting it away.

Heather nodded. "I figured. So... bio kid, huh?" She added, conversationally.

Damian narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't reply.

"I totally see it now," Heather admitted, taking a seat on the cot in the cage. She brought her legs up to fold beneath her, trying to get comfortable. "I thought at first that Bruce's adoption habit was worse in this universe."

"What makes you think I'm adopted?" Tim asked, taking a seat on a stool he'd brought over.

Heather blinked in surprise. "Oh, my mistake, sorry. My Tim Drake is, so I guess I assumed."

"What happened to your Tim's parents?" Tim frowned, but there was something in his expression that Heather couldn't read.

Heather pursed her lips, considering how to explain. "They were very neglectful. At first, Bruce just had emergency custody of Tim while the state investigated why he was being left alone for long periods of time with only a maid checking on him. When they realized how shitty the Drakes were, that's when he put in the paperwork."

"So they're... still alive?" Tim asked in a much quieter voice.

Heather's heart stuttered painfully. "Oh... I'm so sorry."

Tim shook his head. "Not your fault," he said it like it was something he told people a lot, which only made Heather feel worse.

"I really am sorry. This world is so different from my own," Heather said, mostly to keep the conversation moving. She'd always hated awkward silence. "My Tim is younger, and I've never even met him before." She tilted her head towards Damian. "I mean, he might exist on my earth. Who's your mom?"

Damian tutted again, which she was beginning to suspect was a habit. "Not that its any of your business, but my mother's name is Talia Al Ghul."

Heather blinked and sat forward. "I'm sorry - the daughter of the Demon's Head is your mom? One of the most dangerous women in the world, and the next leader of the League of Assasins?"

Damian gave her a haughty nod. "I see my mother's reputation precedes her even in another universe."

"Okay, mental note," Heather muttered. "Interrogate Bruce when I get home to make sure he actually knows how condoms work."

Tim let out an involuntary snort and Damian's pride disappated back into disdain as he muttered something in Arabic that she was sure was unflattering.

"Alrighty, anyway," She sighed. "I'm assuming you have questions you want me to answer?"

"I am not sure what we could ask you that could prove your worthiness," Damian snapped. "You are a stranger to us."

Tim nodded reluctantly. "I've never heard Dick mention anyone like you." He picked up the plastic bag they must have brought from upstairs that had her gear in it, pulling out her mask and frowning at it. "What's with the spider webs?"

"On my earth, I'm called the Scarlet Spider," Heather explained, waiting for any hint of recognition on his face, but nothing came. "You know, ally of Spider-Man? Friend of the Avengers?"

"Who?" Damian asked.

"Whoa, okay, I didn't think our earths were that different," Heather shook her head. "Wait, if Spider-Man and the Avengers don't exist in this world, does the Justice League exist?"

"Of course," Tim and Damian answered almost in unison, then glared at each other in annoyance.

"That's a relief. So the team must exist too," Heather said, only to receive another frown.

"You mean the Teen Titans?" Tim clarified.

"No...? I mean the team. We work for the Justice League? But, like, covertly. We handle missions that the League doesn't want a lot of attention on, but that still needs a lot of skill." Heather explained, "There's me, Nightwing, Superboy, Miss Martian, Robin, Batgirl, Bumblebee, Beast Boy-"

"I only recognize some of those names," Tim admitted.

"Weird," Heather muttered.

"This is a waste of time," Damian exclaimed, "She's clearly lying, Drake, we should take care of her before she can reveal our identities to anyone."

"Let's pump the breaks on the murder, alright Shortstack?" Heather couldn't help but snap. "Does your Batman actually kill? Because that's seriously messed up."

"He does not," Alfred confirmed, giving Damian a reprimanding glare.

Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, muttering to himself. Tim and Alfred couldn't hear it, but Heather could perfectly. "This never would happen with Mother and Grandfather."

Tim's phone suddenly chimed at the same moment Heather heard tires crunching on the gravel outside the manor. "I'm guessing Bruce is here?" She asked Tim as he checked his phone.

"How did you-?"

"Lucky guess," Heather deflected.

Alfred finally lowered his gun and left, presumably to meet his employer and pseudo son at the door. Damian seemed to take this as an invitation to take out another dagger from some pocket and begin fiddling with it. Heather guessed this was his way of intimidating her, or it could have been a nervous habit. She didn't have the heart to tell him it was more cute than anything else.

The kid looked like he'd barely hit puberty. He reminded her of her own little brother and sister, which just made her homesick. She wanted to pull her phone out, just so she could see her photos and reassure herself that they were still out there, waiting for her, but she stopped herself from snapping her restraints. She needed this world's Batman to trust her, or she'd never get home.

"I'm assuming you're a meta human?" Tim asked her after he finished sending another text. He put his phone in his pocket so he could focus his attention on her fully.

"In a sense," Heather said reluctantly. "It's complicated."

"I have a friend who's the daughter of a demon, try me," Tim challenged.

"It's not that I'm refusing to answer the question, it's just seriously complicated," She explained. "Does this world have stable cloning technology?"

"Are you somebody's clone?"

"No- well, yes and no," She shook her head when he gave her an exasperated sigh. "Complicated! Ugh, okay, so my story starts way before I was born. On my earth there's a hero called Spider-Man. He was a regular guy who was bitten by a radioactive spider, giving him super powers."

"Usually when someone has a backstory like that, they turn to a life of crime, at least in my experience," Tim commented.

"Yeah, well, he didn't. I mean, he used his powers to win money in wrestling matches at first," Heather admitted, rolling her eyes. "He was young and dumb, don't worry about it - not important. The important thing is years later, Spider-Man gets a new rogue who called himself Jackal. The guy was crazy, but brilliant."

"We are familiar with the type," Damian commented quietly.

Heather snorted. "Trust me, I know, but unfortunately he was way less Nygma and his puzzles, and more like Crane with unethical experimentation. The guy manages to clone Spider-Man, except - plot twist - Spider-Man suddenly has a case of amnesia and he and the clone can't remember which of them is the real deal."

Tim whistled, "complicated."

"Oh trust me, tip of the iceberg," Heather complained, shaking her head. "I'll skip forward, or we'll be here for hours. The clone, he went by the name Scarlet Spider, eventually comes to a truce with Spider-Man and they become allies. In the meantime, Scarlet Spider and the woman who was once Spider-Man's fiance fall in love. Eventually, they have a kid." She shrugged as much as her restraints allowed her to.

"That was you," Damian guessed.

"Yep," Heather nodded. "Again, I'm going to skip forward for brevity's sake. I developed powers as I aged, but then suddenly one day my body freaks the fuck out. My DNA wasn't completely stable, being half human and half - er, clone slash radioactive meta slash freak lab accident." She sighed. Sometimes she couldn't believe this was her life. "My body mutated."

"It didn't kill you?" Tim asks, surprised.

"It almost did," she admits quietly. "Spider-Man saved my life. I was only nineteen."

"How old are you now?" Damian asked, almost politely.

"Almost twenty-four," Heather smiled. "My fiance, Kurt, is trying to plan a surprise party for me with my Dick Grayson's help. They're not succeeding, but it's adorable to watch so I'm letting it go for now."

"You weren't lying when you said you were close with him, were you?" Tim said, almost sounding like he was talking to himself.

"Robin was always one of my biggest heroes," Heather admitted. "When we finally met, he became one of my closest friends. He's practically my brother."

"That's why you were sure he would help you," Damian concluded.

"He's my best shot," Heather admitted as Bruce finally stepped into the cave, Dick right behind, followed by an Asian woman with short dark hair, and finally an African American teen about Tim's age.

Heather tilted her head at the woman and teen in confusion. The woman only smiled mildly and waved, while the teen mirrored her frown. Well, that's definitely new. Maybe this Bruce does have more of an adoption problem than mine.

"You got my message?" Tim asked.

"Yes. We've been watching the security cameras," Bruce muttered, eying Heather like she was one of the Riddler's newest puzzles. Which, ow.

"Hello," Heather said, giving a cheery smile despite the increase in suspicious eyes on her. "I'd get up to greet you, but..."

"Oh, this one has jokes," Dick said, coming to gently take Damian's dagger away. "That's refreshing. Last time we got someone from a parallel universe, they weren't any fun. Remember Bruce? The Stephanie doppelganger?"

"Dick," Bruce reprimanded before his eldest could go off on a tangent.

"Oh yeah, no, that one was no fun," Tim agreed, ignoring Bruce’s sigh. "This one says she's known you since you were Robin."

"Hey, I have!" Heather protested. "C'mon, we were all getting along so well. I mean, aside from the stabby child over there... but I have a feeling he's like that with most people?"

"We're trying to break him of the habit," Dick commented dryly.

"Did Damian stab her?" The black teen asked.

"Not quite," Tim shrugged. "She's fast."

"Aw, thanks Tim" Heather beamed. "That's like the nicest thing you've said to me all day. When I get home, I'll be sure to tell my Tim you were nice. Even if you do need to lighten up a little."

"What makes you think you're going anywhere?" Dick asked, but Heather couldn't hear any real threat in the words. She had a feeling this Dick had just as big of a heart as her world's.

"Look, obviously me being here is upsetting for multiple reasons. You guys love your privacy, and you hate having someone around who compromises that, I get it. Not to mention, it's probably not a good idea for someone from the wrong multiverse to stay here long term. I mean, I'm a biochemist not a theoretical physicist, but I'm assuming it's probably bad," Heather shrugged as much as her bonds allowed. "So, the way I see it is, you help me get back home, and we're all happy in the end. Right?"

"How can we trust that you're telling the truth?" Tim asked again, but she could tell Bruce was thinking it over.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Timmy," Heather told him honestly. "I mean, I could sit here all day telling you things that are true of my universe? Like, I know that Dick’s first pet was Zitka, the circus elephant. I know that my Tim basically blackmailed Batman into making him Robin. I know that my Alfred never uses cloves in his cooking because Bruce is allegic, which is why he never drinks the eggnog at the Justice League's Christmas party. Is any of that true in this universe? I don't have a clue. What I do know for certain is that you all are my only shot of getting home. If you won't help me..."

Heather swallowed, staring at nothing as the despair of that possibility hit her full force. "I'll never see my family again, and Kurt will never know what happened to me. Please, I'm begging here, help me get home."

Bruce crossed his arms and looked at the Asian woman that hadn't said a word so far. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, a little younger than this world's Dick. Heather had tried not to let it bother her, but the younger woman had been watching her intently the whole time they'd been talking. Heather couldn't help feeling like she was missing something as she watched the woman turn to Bruce and smile.

"Not lying. I trust her," She finally said.

The words were stilted in a way that normally Heather would associate with learning a new language, but the woman had a distinct Gotham accent. It almost reminded Heather of how her little sister used to talk when she'd started speech therapy, like the woman wasn't sure how to put her thoughts into spoken words.

"Okay, as much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, I have to ask - who are they?" Heather asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"You don't have a Cassandra Cain or Duke Thomas in your world?" Dick asked.

Heather shook her head, "Doesn't ring a bell, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Like I was saying earlier, my timeline seems a little skewed from this one. My Tim is younger, and as far as I know, my Bruce doesn't have a bio kid. It's just Dick, Tim, Babs and me around."

"What about Jason Todd?" Bruce asked quietly, and if she hadn't known another version of this man so well she might not have heard his trepidation for the answer.

"That's... I mean..." Heather blew out a somber breath. "Jason was murdered by the Joker," she admitted reluctantly. Every face in the room fell, but there was an air of recognition to the grief. Clearly, the same fate had befallen their Jason as well.

Heather continued after a moment, "That was a few years ago. Recently, he, well... came back. Things are still a little delicate, so he's been staying with me and Kurt for the time being."

"Why isn't he home with us?" Dick asked.

Heather grimaced. "You have to understand, he wasn't in his right mind. He - well, he attacked our Tim and hurt him pretty badly. They're both doing better, but Jason hasn't forgiven himself and still has things to work through, and Tim needs time to recover mentally and emotionally. We're giving them both space until if and when they're ready to be in the same room."

"Wow, what a concept," Tim deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Bruce and Dick looked uncomfortable. Heather narrowed her eyes but decided not to ask. Not her circus, not her monkeys. She could only do so much for the Wayne family in her own universe; she couldn't possibly fix an entirely different one as well. Especially when she didn't have the complete picture.

"Ya know, I kind of wish we had a version of her," Duke spoke up. "That's like the most level headed decision I've heard from someone in this family in... no, scratch that, ever."

"Don't give me too much credit," Heather smiled, but it was self-derogatory. "I've had my fair share of screw ups, too. Sometimes, you just need an outside perspective." She sighed, wishing she could rub her eyes. "Look, I get that this is a lot to ask, but I have to track down Vibe before he disappears from this world, too. I can stay right here if it makes you all feel better, but I need help finding his tachyon signature so I can catch him and make him take us home. The batcomputer is my best chance."

"Quick question," Dick lifted a hand, frowning at her. "What do you mean by 'make us feel better'?"

Heather clicked her tongue and stood up, walking to the far wall of the cage, opposite the door. She flexed her muscles, snapping the metal grappeling cord like it was dental floss. As the cord fell into a pile on the floor, she reached forward and using two fingers on each hand, bent two of the steel bars towards each other into an 'x'. She stepped back from the cage wall and put her hands behind her back, shrugging sheepishly.

"You could escape at any time, couldn't you?" Duke guessed.

Heather nodded, chewing her cheek.

"You could have broken in here without alerting anyone, gotten what you wanted, and left without a trace," Tim added. "Just like how you got passed all of the security on the grounds."

"Well, I don't know about completely leaving without a trace," Heather hedged, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm not Kurt, I can't teleport, and I don't have invisibility either."

"Hn, perhaps you could explain your powers to us in detail while we start searching for your missing rogue," Bruce said.

She didn't know this Bruce or what had happened in his life to alter it from the man she did know, but she could hear the world's greatest detective in his voice and it made the anxiety in her chest melt. They weren't going to abandon her, they were going to help.

The only question left, was when?

[writing-desk-rae]

Deleted Scene: The Wife, The Alien, And Me

"Mr Lewis, Dr Smith is here for Rose. Her parents are away for work today."

"Thank you, Mrs Price. Send him in."

Rose looked up and smiled as The Doctor walked in.

Thank god! Mum would make a scene.

She winced as the smile pulled at her split lip.

"Dr Smith, I'm Mr Lewis, the headmaster."

"John Smith, Rose's Godfather. Where-"

The Doctor cut himself off, hand half out to shake the Heads, and his eyes fixed on Rose.

She tried to send him a reassuring look, but the dribble of blood coming from the corner of her mouth probably scuppered that.

"What happened?" He demanded, walking straight past the Head and other parents, cupping her face with gentle hands.

"I'm ok."

"Look at me," his voice was firm, and he had a serious look on his face that Rose had never seen before. She realised with a start that it was a dad-face.

I wonder if he's been a father before.

"Who did this?" His voice was quiet and calm and dangerous, and the Head stepped forward to cut in, but Louisa got there first.

"They started it! We were just defending ourselves!"

"Hello Miss Louisa," the Doctor said kindly, casting his eye over her blackening eye and split knuckles. They were a sharp contrast to Rose's unmarked hands, telling him exactly who they'd hit first. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Dr John," she reassured him with a defiant smile, tilting her head up proudly, "at least I had a chance to swing back."

"I can see that," he murmured, raising Rose's unmarked hands to his lips. He spun towards Jamie and Connor, "what's to be done about them?"

"Dr Smith-"

"I don't want a fuss," Rose cut in, and the Doctor spun back towards her. He put two fingers under her chin and raised her head up to look him in the face.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Blossom. So if you think I'm not about to pull a Donna Nobel, and descend, you've got another thing coming. And so do they."

Oh god, there's two of them.

Rose nodded, and looked over the Doctor's shoulder at the now very pale face of the Headmaster.

I bet he wished it had been Dad here after all.

[monsterrae1]

in which Buck sends Eddie a thirst trap

1.9k | Explicit | Read on AO3

This was supposed to be part of Ems bday gift but i didn't finish on time so, happy late birthday bestie @buddierights < 3

Summary:

Eddie would like to have it on the record that he was just out in the world living his life when his boyfriend decided to completely wreck his plans by sending him a stupid thirst trap video. He was at the grocery store of all places and he didn’t think much when his phone pinged with a new notification, he thought Buck might’ve wanted him to pick something up from the store while he was there. He was wrong. He was so, so, wrong. The video was short, but completely obscene, Buck was shirtless, and drenched in sweat, wet hair sticking to his temple and forehead, and his lips parted in a way that made Eddie think about fucking Buck’s mouth relentlessly. * Buck sends Eddie a thirst trap in the middle of the day, and Eddie goes home and fucks him into the mattress.

Also known as the Sauna Sex Fic

[ice-sculptures]

for miwip wednesday, an excerpt from my mike-finds-out-about-the-painting fic: two lives intertwined (one yours, one mine)

[athenagranted]

tease tidbit tuesday

thank you to @wildlife4life @shitouttabuck @fortheloveofbuddie @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @jeeyuns @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @loserdiaz for tagging me over the last week!!

buck meets the diazes won the poll from a few days ago, so here's a slightly reworked snippet for y'all :)

Ramon doesn’t say anything to him on his way into the kitchen, so Buck turns back to the section on fried foods, looking for a dish to bring to his birthday barbeque. He stops again when he hears Ramon muttering to himself in Spanish. Buck catches the tail end of it – something about not being able to find the trash can?  “Under the counter,” Buck calls out absentmindedly, finger pausing on a recipe for fried okra. Bingo.  Ramon pokes his head through the kitchen door and looks at him in surprise. “You understand Spanish?” “Oh, yeah,” Buck says awkwardly. “I can’t speak it very well, and my accent’s terrible. But I lived in Peru for a little while, picked up a few words here and there. And Eddie and Chris are always watching their telenovelas, so I thought I’d try to learn so I can actually follow along.” He shrugs, eyes flitting back to his book. “I’m not fluent yet, but I’d like to be, someday.”  “Hmm,” Ramon says, expression inscrutable. “Well, thank you, Buck.”  He disappears back into the kitchen, and Buck figures that's the end of it, going back to mentally calculating the amount of okra he’ll need to buy to feed everyone coming to his party. God, he really misses his math powers sometimes. Unfortunately, Buck's attempt to will his abilities back into existence doesn't work. They don't miraculously come back, so he gives up and pulls out his phone to calculate it for him. Twenty seven people will be coming, and if he takes into account food allergies and personal tastes plus portion sizes, that should amount to— "May I sit?" Ramon is standing in front of him, carrying a metal tin.  

tagging @captain-hen @antibyler @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz and anyone else who wants to do it :)

[thru-the-grapevine]

Just Barely

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!Reader

Genre: smut

Kinktober Day 1 (yes I'm aware I'm already late): Toys

Warnings: sex toys (vibrator), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, face fucking

Word Count: 1714

They say hindsight is always 20-20. But looking back at the events that led you here, you never could have predicted this.

The sweet bartender at your favorite bar never once gave off the vibes that he had a whole other side to his personality. Sure, you could’ve deduced as much from the tattoo sleeves decorating his arms. But still, he was always so cordial and hard-working. How were you supposed to know what he was really like?

It started with flirting. To your credit, you noticed fairly quickly how Hongjoong paid special attention to you. It was only your second time at the bar, but among all your friends, he seemed to sway towards you every few minutes.

Something about Hongjoong was magnetic. His dark eyes held depths within them, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to dive deeper. His features were sharp, and his hands… Oh, his hands were beautiful. You thoroughly enjoyed watching him shake drinks, his laugh lighting up the room around him. And when his elegant fingers wrapped themselves around the glass as he poured in his creation, you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched in your throat.

“What can I get for ya, doll?” Hongjoong’s voice startled you out of your daze.

Flustered that the very man you were just about drooling over was now in front of you, you quickly ordered your usual cocktail, a mojito. With a wink and a, “Comin’ right up!” Hongjoong sauntered away to mix your drink and take other orders.

You wondered why the air felt so warm all of a sudden, and used the flimsy paper menu to fan yourself as discreetly as you could. Your friend noticed and asked, “You okay?” she asked.

You nodded emphatically. “Yep! Just got a little warm for a second!” you insisted.

She eyed you for a moment, then grinned. “Alright, thanks for recommending this place! It’s great,” she said, sipping her drink.

You smiled back. “Yeah, I like it here.”

“One mojito for the pretty lady in blue,” Hongjoong said, placing your drink down in front of you.

You flushed. He thought you were pretty? You could say the same about him!

“Thank you,” you said, quietly sipping the drink. It was the best mojito you’d ever had. You glanced up at Hongjoong, who was waiting patiently with a small smirk on his face.

“So?” he asked.

“It’s so good! You’re really good at this,” you complimented.

The smirk widened. “Thank you,” he said, winking again. “Only the best for my favorite customer.” And with that, he bounced away, his attention already on someone else.

Thoroughly flustered, you took another sip of your drink to chase the thoughts away. Only, your next discovery didn’t help.

Stuck to the bottom of the glass was a small piece of paper. On it, Hongjoong had written “I get off at 11”.

Your head darted up, meeting Hongjoong’s eye. He grinned at you as he rolled his sleeves up, exposing the tattoos decorating his arms. You swallowed as discreetly as you could when he shook the mixer, making eye contact with you the entire time.

Yeah, you were screwed.

How Hongjoong played it so cool the rest of the night, you’ll never know. All you know is every glance you way, every light brush of his fingers against yours when he had you a drink, felt like an electric shock through your body.

You could feel the desperate need for any sort of pressure between your thighs when he handed you a glass of beer, his favorite, he claimed with a dazzling smile. His hand brush yours, his eyes never leaving your face.

Squirming a little in your seat, you took a deep breath and downed a good third of your glass. Hongjoong laughed his twinkling laugh. “Careful, pretty. You’re going to get me excited before my shift’s up.”

You nearly choked on your beer.

Hongjoong laughed again. “Actually, I have one more break before I finish the night. Come here.” His voice dropped lower, a stern look in his eye letting you know this was a command, not a suggestion.

Instantly, your body reacted, sliding off the barstool and trotting after him to the back of the restaurant. Hongjoong strutted past everyone, none of the other staff having time to pay attention to him and his unusual guest.

He led you to the breakroom, which was miraculously empty.

Confused, you crossed the threshold, only to find the door slamming shut behind you, and Hongjoong’s lips crashing onto yours. A surprised gasp left your mouth, and Hongjoong took full advantage. His tongue explored your mouth, learning every last bit of its new territory.

A moan left your mouth when Hongjoong’s hands drifted underneath your shirt, lifting it just a little to finger the band of your pants. But instead of exploring further, Hongjoong drew back.

“Take them off,” he ordered, nodding at your pants. He pulled something from the bag to his left. You didn’t question him, eager to know what he was planning.

Your eagerness turned to horror when you realized he was holding a small device you recognized as a remote control vibrator.

“Put it in,” he commanded again, handing you the little pink device.

“But-“ you started.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Now.”

His voice grew deeper, and you found yourself fumbling with the zipper on your jeans. Thoroughly red in the face, you slowly slid your pants down and stuck your hand into your underwear. You were to slick, the vibrator slipped right in, resting right over your clit.

“Fucking tease,” Hongjoong muttered when you didn’t take your underwear off and hurriedly pulled your pants back up.

Blushing, you fumbled with the button on your pants. Hongjoong’s tone was teasing, and you couldn’t deny that it turned you on so incredibly much.

You nearly cried out when the vibrator suddenly buzzed to life. Your head jerked up to meet Hongjoong’s eyes, a smirk on his face and the controller in his hands.

“This game we’re about to play has rules, sweetheart,” he said. “I get off work in two hours. The bar closes then too, so I have to clean up. If you can make it without cumming during that time, I’ll reward you.”

“Reward?” you managed to gasp out, the buzzer increasing in strength.

“Do what I say, and you’ll get to have it, babe,” Hongjoong stroked your cheek with his hand, grinning when he felt you already trembling beneath him.

He left the break room, and the buzzing stopped. You nearly collapsed to the floor. This wasn’t gonna be easy…

—

And easy it was not.

Hongjoong was cruel. He brought you to brink of orgasm, watching as your eyebrows knitted together and your hand holding your glass shook, only to then stop the vibrator altogether.

Every time it stopped, you involuntarily twitched in your seat, causing several well-meaning customers seated next to you to ask if you were okay. Nodding and doing your best to smile cheerfully, you lied, “Yep! Just a weird shiver, you know how it is.”

And they would laugh along with you, unknowing of the torture you were undergoing.

—

To your shock, you made it to closing. Barely.

And to your dismay, your little challenge got a whole lot harder after Hongjoong volunteered to finish closing up for everyone. A couple of the employees winked at you on their way out, but you chose to ignore them.

When the door closed, the vibrator sprang to life, immediately jumping up three settings. You gasped, finally allowed to make a little more noise with the restaurant empty. Hongjoong went about his business, putting things away and wiping down the bar.

Every time you made a little noise, he’d silently crank the vibrator up a notch until you were shaking under the highest setting. Your clit was throbbing, you legs were shaking, and without warning you came. Hard.

With a little shriek, you came onto the barstool, and the vibrator abruptly stopped. Head swimming, you startled when Hongjoong’s beautiful hand lifted up your head.

“And you were so close to winning too,” he chastised.

Tears sprang to your eyes unbidden. “I- no, I mean, I’m sorry-“ you tried to speak, still reeling from your sudden orgasm.

“Take your clothes off,” Hongjoong ordered, his eyes dark.

You scrambled to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head with a blush. When you took your pants off, Hongjoong grew impatient, lifting you up over his shoulder and bringing you behind the bar. He set you down on the bar counter, ripping your panties off you.

He knelt down in between your thighs, slowly pulling the vibrator out of you. He licked your juices off the little silicone toy. You watched, mouth hanging open a little as he swirled his tongue over the toy, wishing with every fiber of your being that he was doing that to you.

Hongjoong undid his pants, slowly freeing his hardened cock. You licked your lips. Hongjoong laughed. “Careful, sweetie, your lips will get chapped,” he said with mock worry.

You flushed. Hongjoong grinned and positioned himself up against you and thrusting in without much fanfare. You gasped, the stretch of him filling you up startling but delicious.

And Hongjoong began to pump, faster and faster, his cock hitting that sweet spot just right every time. Your little whines and moans began to increase in volume, Hongjoong’s pace never slowing down.

And just as you were teetering over the edge, so blissfully close to the knot in your stomach coming undone, Hongjoong pulled out.

Your head jerked up, a whine tearing from your throat.

But Hongjoong had no time for your complaints. “On your knees,” he ordered.

You hurriedly clambered off the counter and onto your knees, giving Hongjoong the sweetest look you could muster as you took his dick into your mouth. Hongjoong just laughed.

You gagged as he thrust forward, fucking into your throat mercilessly. Tears trailed down your cheeks, but you held firm, letting him facefuck you until he was cumming down your throat.

You swallowed his cum, wiping your tears. You looked up only to see Hongjoong zipping his pants back up. He winked at you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

[raethereptile]

Not romantic soulmates, not platonic soulmates, but a secret third thing (in another life, but we're in this one soulmates. In this one we balance on a precipice between the two, somehow both and neither)(In another life I'd love you unendingly, I'd kiss you until I ran out of breath and then I'd keep kissing you because if I'm going to die I want it to be with your lips on mine. I'd make love to you every night and fuck you ever morning and think about it every second in between. We'd have breakfast in bed and dinners in restaurants, date night every week, and holidays for two. We'd have a home of our own, exactly the way we want it, just for us or with kids by the dozen. And a dog. And every time I'd look at you I'd smile, and the flowers would bloom, and every second could be a lifetime and it would never be enough)(In another life I love you stupidly, and we'd spend our days laughing. We'd call, and text, and meet three times a week for coffee or food or just because. You'd have a key to my home and I'd have a key to yours. The spare room would have your name on it, there'd be a spare toothbrush under the sink, and your brand of beer in the fridge. Dinner would always stretch enough to fill another plate last minute. And you wouldn't have to knock. You stand at my wedding and I'd be Godfather to the mini-yous and love them as my own. And our lives would overlap and intertwine and be perfect)(but not in this life. Maybe we met too late or too early or life got in the way. In this life we couldn't. In this life we wouldn't)(Maybe we don't want it at all)(but we could. We know it. And every time we look at each other all we can see is in-another-life and we don't want it but it's all we can see. we don't have either, don't want either. we're happy as we are)(in another life, but not this one)

[raedioactive]

Mutuals, I'm so sorry for tagging you but-@skylerfurmaniac @ink-the-axolotl-rabbit @theauthor27 @mattcat @sillyestgoose @gayfraggle @yourlocalcoroikafan @therealtemmie @the-excellent-papyru @chillzosworld @ultrabean @llamanade @volksvulpis @crazed-rambler @4444pi @phonegod @yael-things @blackplaaague @british-randyjade-rambles @fyouimgay2

This is a book I am in the process of writing, and I wanted to share it, so here it is! It's an original story, and all explanations are in the story itself. Yeah, it's on AO3, I have no other way to share them-

There's no need to reblog or anything, just have a read if you want! No pressure hehe, it's gonna be in my pinned from now on.

Of course anybody else can read as well, I just really want people to see this lol

Sorry for tagging you guys again-

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Before Destruction left his place with the Endless, he had a bit of a manic period where he leaned too hard into his function. Unfortunately, the Corinthian happened to be standing nearby when it happened. Endless family drama is, you know, the worst. Even Death would admit that shit is Biblical.

Art submitted by a reader (whom I adore but wants to stay anonymous) for my Sandman fic, “Something Broken”.

[fourphoenixfeathers]

*slides this across the table*

So I heard someone say "fusions". (Me. It was me. I love them.)

[rae-arachne]

"Put out the clothes you're gonna wear the night before!"

buddy, i don't even know what gender i'm gonna be tomorrow, you think i can pick out a full ass outfit!