#fic: troubleshooting

[randomquadballpun]

DAY 61 (attempt no 10) - fin

On Saturday, John woke to an empty bed and a silent flat. Well, nothing new there. He kept still for a couple of moments, listening in on the flat around him. But there was no cursing, no plastic plates being flung into the waste bin aggressively, no slammed doors or unhappy showering sounds. Just silence.

He swung out of bed, tiptoed to the door, and into the corridor beyond. Here, he could hear the faintest sound of voices from the living room. Walking a little bit further he could see that someone had drawn all the curtains shut and the whole room was filled with blue light.

Curious.

He inched over until he could actually look into the room, where he found Sherlock and Rosie side by side. Rosie was sitting on the armrest of the couch, holding one of the agar plates up into the air and shining at it with a small blue light, while Sherlock sat hunched over next to her, fingers carding restlessly through unkempt curls.

"Everything alright?", he asked carefully, causing both of his mad scientist to look up at him.

"It worked, they are glowing green! You have to see this, Dad!" Rosie gestured excitedly with the plate until he had taken a seat next to her.

And yep, there certainly were a bunch of small dots all over the surface of the growth medium and when illuminated with the strange lamp they definitely glowed bright green. It was quite impressive to see really, especially knowing how much effort had gone into this moment.

"Sherlock said that we can go to Barts and try to look at some green bacteria with one of the really good microscopes there!" Rosie - bouncing up and down like a caffeinated rubber ball - pressed both lamp and plate into Johns hands, before springing to her feet and making for the stairs. "I have to show Mrs Hudson as well!" And off she went.

"So ... it worked?", John asked the crouching figure next to him.

"Obviously."

"So what was the key? What did you change this time around?"

Sherlock unfurled, his fingers releasing his dishevelled curls and staring at John with a sour expression. If looks could kill, John would be deceased right now ... as would the innocent green E.coli that Sherlock had put so much work into growing - which would be quite ironic, all things considered.

"Nothing, I did everything the same. I performed this experiment with these exact parameters at least 5 times before without any success."

"Well, something must have changed, right? Maybe The new holes in the wall did something after all?" It was a weak joke to begin with, but confronted with Sherlocks most deadpan expression it fizzled out even more spectacularly.

"All the good bacteria grow into little dots because they grow so fast. They are green when you just look at them without the light. But with the lamp, they really glow!"

Rosie was back, Mrs Hudson in tow. She ran over, took the plate and lamp out of Johns unresisting hand and demonstrated the glowing dots once again, to suitable 'oooooing' and 'awwwing' from their landlady. "I have to take pictures so that I can show them to Molly and Rebecca and Uncle Greg and Uncle Mycroft", she continued, breathlessly. "They are so cool, I knew Papa could do it! And I need to show Mrs Bromley for science class, she did not believe me when I told her about our experiment. And ..."

John tuned out the continued narration, turning to Sherlock just in time to catch the moment when the words sunk in ... It had been such an off-hand remark, but of course, Sherlock Holmes would not miss it. As far as John knew, this was the first time that she had ever called him that. And Io and behold, Sherlock could do the wobbly look with his eyebrows as well. Must run in the family then.

John allowed himself a fond little grin, pulling one arm around his lanky git and squeezing gently. A warm feeling filled his chest and the animated chatter of Rosie and Mrs Hudson filled the air.

It all came together quite harmoniously after all. That was: harmonious measured by the Watson-Holmes household standards. And John would not have it any other way.

--------------------

Troubleshooting, part 29/?

-> That's it! (I could have gone on for much longer, but I think this is a good place to stop). Pure fluff because we can never have enough of that and the characters deserve it! I will need to think of a new short-form writing project now, because I really enjoyed having something that could be written in an hour or two.

-> You can read this entire series starting from DAY 0 on Tumblr or Ao3 or read the previous snippet here.

-> Thanks for coming along!

[bambiraptorx]

i think Draxum deserves to have a cat and also be an asshole about it lmao

[idreadthenight]

medical beta?

i guess i am not busy enough so if you write in this fandom and need a medical beta, i am happy to chat!

(me: full time healthcare worker for past 15 yrs, experience in ED/trauma med, now in outpatient, current prac focusing on addictions.)

inbox open xoxo

[ofmdee]

💛

[etandthekeet]

This college au has given me life. I just had to draw their party outfits. Especially with the way scarab’s was described.

This is from the fic Social butterfly, anxious beetle. It’s so sweet so far

[anxietygremlin7]

hello!! i'm not able to get to your tango projection fic on mobile and ao3 is telling me that you've never written a thing in your life, which i know is false. is it JUST a mobile thing do you think? i really want to read this fic dangit!!!

Hi there!

The only reason I can think of that it wouldn't be working is either you don't have an account or your accidentally logged out of your account if you do have one?(all of my fics are archive locked because if all of the AI scraping stuff :( ) If you can, try to open it on desktop and hopefully that works?

If it's not that, I'm sorry, I have no idea (I am not very good at technology) But I hope you can figure it out! <3

[copsecore]

milo x sweetheart public teasing smutshot anyone? 👀

[lowkeyren]

someone help this is giving me a headache!!

my fic wont show up in tags no matter what... then i did test posts which were just "testing" and some hsr tags, it works so i tried posting my fic again THEN IT BREAKS, AND DOESNT SHOW IN TAGS. LIKE WHATS THE PROBLEM HERE, I DOUBT ITS LENGTH?

ughuhhdhd ive been sitting here for an hour trying to fix this so please help im gonna cry I CANT POST EVEN IF I WANT TO BYE. this is upsetting.

[tc-lp]

Anyone ever come across a bug where google docs and AO3 give you different word count?

To clarify: I'm pretty sure it was a google doc issue because I pasted the fic into a file on my hard drive and the word count was the same as AO3's.

I usually wouldn't mind, but I'm trying to keep my current projects as multiples of 100 (double drabble, triple drabble, etc.). So it's frustrating to have my writing documents say one thing and then AO3 telling me otherwise. :/

[randomquadballpun]

DAY 0 (attempt no 1)

It all started out pretty harmless. That was: harmless measured by the Watson-Holmes household standards.

When John returned from work Monday evening, he expected to hear Sherlock and Rosie playfully debating the advantages of squared over lined paper for efficient note-taking or maybe the sound of the two of them battling each other on Rosies Nintendo Switch. Instead, he was greeted halfway up the stairs by hushed silence and a faint burnt smell in the air. Needless to say, he took the last couple of steps a little bit faster.

The picture that presented itself as he walked into the flat was both better and worse than what he had dreaded. His daughter and his boyfriend were leaning over the messy kitchen table, a bowl of ice, a stack of Petri dishes and a burning Bunsen burner between them. To give Sherlock credit, they were both wearing lab coats and gloves and Rosie had been additionally equipped with safety goggles and even wore her messy blond hair in a neat high ponytail to keep it out of the flames.

John let his groceries slide to the floor with a loud thump. "Alright, does anyone want to tell me what you two are doing here?"

Two pairs of startled wide eyes snapped over to him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, as the two exchanged one quick and not at all ominous glance before starting to explain.

"We are making Ecollies glow green. That’s bacteria!", Rosie declared proudly.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "E.coli. I wanted to show Watson some fluorescing bacteria under the microscope and thought we could make a little lesson in molecular biology out of it. So we are cloning GFP into an expression vector and then transforming the E.coli with it."

"Er …“" John stared at him with a blank face while his mind tried to make sense of the information that had just been conveyed to him. "Alright?"

He could sense the eye roll even though his boyfriend did his best to suppress it – from the corner of his eye, he could see that Rosie had no such restraint. Sherlock clarified. "We are forcing bacteria to produce a protein that glows green under a special lamp. Green fluorescent protein - GFP. We have already put the gene for GFP into a piece of bacterial DNA and shuttled that DNA into the bacteria. Tomorrow morning we can have a first look at them under the microscope!"

That did make sense - sort of. "As long as you clean up properly after yourself. I don't want our toilet to start glowing green in a couple of days!", he reminded them sternly before he stooped down to pick up the bag with groceries again and squeezed past his two favourite mad scientists to deposit milk and butter in the fridge.

"Have you done your homework for tomorrow, sweetheart?"

There was an exaggerated groan behind him. "They are sooooo boring, Dad!"

This was not the first time that they had this discussion but Rosie did sound more like Sherlock anytime they did. "I am sorry, but you still got to do them!"

"Do I reaaaally have to though?"

He had to suppress a grin at the audible pout and tried to force a no-nonsense tone into his voice as he answered: "I told you, if Mrs Harkins asks for any extra parent-teacher conferences this year, I am going to send Sherlock, and no one is going to like the outcome of that." Everyone in the room winced at that prospect.

"I can show you how to do long division once we are done here, Watson. The experiment will only take another 10 minutes, we just have to spread out the bacteria over the agar plates now", Sherlock added in Johns direction.

The doctor nodded absentmindedly before faltering. "Wait, you remember how to do long division?"

This time Sherlock did roll his eyes at him, but with a grin that softened the effect. "No, calculators have been around since before I was born." He winked at Rosie but continued quickly when John shot him a warning glare. "However, I know that there is a tutorial for pretty much anything on YouTube nowadays. Rest assured, Watson and I are going to be able to puzzle out long division."

"Good, thank you." John let his gaze swipe once again over the biohazard that was their kitchen and made the executive decision that he could not be bothered with this tonight.

"How do you guys feel about ordering Pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Rosie threw her hands in the air excitedly, barely missing the flame that was still dancing merrily between them and not in fact missing a rack of small plastic tubes that had been placed close by as well and was now clattering all over the tiled floor. "I want pineapple, artichokes and pepperoni on mine."

John caught a quick glance at his partners face before the other man dove under the table to hunt after the sample tubes. Well, no matter what the outcome of this experiment would be, at least Rosie had managed to make Sherlocks face glow faintly green tonight.

--------------------

Troubleshooting, part 1/?

-> Will this whole series be incredibly self-indulgent and nerdy - yes!

-> The next snippet can be found here!

[buzzcat]

New Fic - teamwork troubleshooting

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005) Wordcount: 1,679 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hugs Summary: The Doctor is standing in Donna's kitchen and he needs a hug, but processing emotions is hard

look sometimes processing emotions is hard

[go-go-devil]

For anyone familiar with AO3, can someone help me out regarding a problem I'm having with uploading images onto a fic?

Several years ago I wrote a fic and placed two images in it which uploaded without any issues, but recently the images stopped loading onto the fic and I'm not sure what the problem is

I had originally made the art myself and uploaded them onto my old DeviantArt account so that I AO3 would recognize the source URL. Like I said above there wasn't any problems with the images not appearing until only a few months ago...

[mossmx]

I just found out my AO3 mail notifications have not been working!!

So if I never replied to comments there is bc I had no idea!! I need to find out the reason and fix it, sorry if u tought I was being rude!

[takes1]

Hello! Popping my request in here. ‘ v ‘

Your Kuroo and Kenma fic was to die for, but what I really need is a NSFW Bokuto and Kuroo with reader. Maybe a polyamorous situation?

Because how could you have one without the other? they’re a package deal. 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

kuroo x reader + bokuto nsfw

this has been in the drafts for a while, just needed to stitch it up. sorry i been gone ya'll, i'm getting ready for big girl life. i can't write and be on top of everything else at the same time rahhh

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / mmf threesome / f!rec oral / praise kink!bokuto / scheming kuroo / soft dom!kuroo, switch!bokuto / overstim / begging / established relationship / himbo!bokuto / everybody is possessive / shallow 3sum vs legit poly theme / 2.3k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu.

Your feet were dragging across the floor as you shouldered the bedroom door open.

The exhaustion you had accumulated from that cursed double-shift left your face heavy, your limbs aching. The dull, fuzzy noise of the TV didn't even set you off as unusual.

Kuroo was sprawled across the mattress on his phone, already dressed for bed in the t-shirt you wanted to wear.

You groaned at him, grumbling some half-baked, silly threat to take his clothes off.

He laughed at you, lively, despite the late hour, and spoiled you with a flurry of kisses across all your favorite spots.

"Oohh... Bad shift?" He chuckled.

You started clumsily unbuttoning your stupid, stinky blouse for a few difficult seconds before letting his bigger, steadier hands take the role over instead. But he started doing it back up-- you let out a confused cry. He shushed you.

"What--?"

His lip was tucked between his too-perfect teeth, usually something he reserved for real exciting moments.

He whispered, "We have company, baby."

You jumped in his grip, eyes flying open to scan your bedroom, and realized somebody was sitting in his big gaming chair. It made you feel about a thousand times more tired.

There was an arm visible, troubleshooting his console, and the sound of some games getting shuffled through. The hand was huge, and you couldn't easily recognize who it belonged to. It -for sure- wasn't Kenma.

Before you could scold him for not warning you, he pressed a raunchy kiss to your jawline and pulled you in for a firm hug. You shudder, unprepared, and cautiously eyeing the back of that chair to make sure you had not just critically embarrassed yourself in front of some famous athlete.

Kuroo often had members of serious leagues over, sometimes for PR, sometimes only because he was a cool-people magnet.

"Shhh- it's just Bokuto," He grinned into your shoulder with a giggle, and for the life of you, you couldn't figure out what was so damn funny, "We're playin' some games."

That wasn't as relieving as his tone would indicate.

Bokuto was a topic between you for a few reasons you were too tired to mull over, right now.

With another shiver, perishing the thought of your 'third' talks, you pushed him softly away.

After lending you the shirt you wanted -because he always gave you what you wanted- you chose some PJ pants to wear for as long as Bokuto decided to stay over, and left once again to go wash the day off.

The idea that he might leave while you were in the shower was not reality. It wasn't much of a bother, because something about his vague form in the dark kept you feeling lighter, out of curiosity.

You slipped under the covers next to Kuroo's leg.

Clean, and cool, and tired. You didn't even reach for your phone. The lamps were on. No alarm set. Kuroo was chatting quietly to Bokuto. Their controllers were clicking. Your body kept perfectly still as you began to fall asleep. 19 hours. Of work.

You only stirred at the feeling of closeness, new and slow, on your other side.

It was a passive, warm, sort of presence. Their conversation then kept you from falling immediately back asleep.

"It's fine, dude!" Bokuto winces, realizing his own volume in the process of it coming out of his mouth. That was from your left. You shift to your right side, closer to your partner.

He's quieter, as he clarifies, "I still like hangin' out."

They were still playing, just further away from the screen.

"Maybe- uh, some other time?"

There's no response to him; only the soft sound of their fighting game. It starts to follow a rhythm of noise that lulls you back down, but you feel a hand massaging your hip.

It was impossible to mask anything with all the sleep still hanging over you. Your thighs squeezed, twitchy, and you took a short breath in.

Your gasp was not loud, but the way it stilled them made it feel that way.

"You awake, babygirl?"

That pet name was reserved for sex only-- it jumpstarts your heart. What was he playing at?

Your eyes open, barely, in a firm inspection of his face.

There was a tiny squint at the corner of his eyes. He was trying not to smile. When Bokuto looked up at him, basically asking for guidance, you put it all together.

He was scheming. This was no accident; Kuroo wasn't the type of guy to attract coincidence. Most everything he did was on purpose because he crafted it so.

"You weren't awake for all of that, were you?"

His thumb prods, firm, into your hip joint.

When you try to roll over on your back, flustered at his tone, his touch, you bump into Bokuto's knee. He must've shifted closer. You didn't know what to say-- their exchange was still vague.

His chuckle at your slight panic makes you tense.

"That'd be pretty embarrassing-," Bokuto seethes at the idea, his strong chest filling up even more. His little strangled groan, barely covered by a false cough, doesn't go unnoticed, "Not gonna lie."

You're sandwiched between them.

You need to keep your arms squeezed in because they had completely commandeered the mattress space. Your guest felt a little guilty, looking down at you, so he attempted to make things better.

Bokuto slid further down, under your covers-- you scooted closer to your boyfriend, your cheek squished into his hip.

He remained still, like he doesn't intend to... participate.

"Why don't you tell me about work, hm?"

He's taking the roll of a sentient brick wall, instigating, here and there. Your brow furrows, and you have to glance from Kuroo's genuine interest to the wild animal he invited into your apartment. Right into your bed.

No doubt Kuroo told his friend that you don't take well to the spotlight, and they're doing all the theatrics on purpose to get a reaction out of you.

"You- you don't want to hear about my shift--," You shudder.

You suppress a squeal at Bokuto's rough palm. It found part of your exposed belly, where your shirt had lifted, as a result of your squirming.

It reminds you of the rant you had gone on, the last time you talked about how bad you wanted to take both Kuroo and Bokuto. Maybe, in the safety of your relationship, and still whisked away post-orgasm, you had been overzealous with lustful desires.

Kuroo acts like you're being ridiculous. He sighs, too candid, "Of course I wanna hear- you always tell me."

His hand started rubbing your scalp, reassuring, and he tilted his head down at you.

"I look forward to it."

So soft, and sweet, and considerate. You sink, a little, and think about apologizing-

That big hand slid up and firmed right under your bare chest, "Ohh, I wanna hear about it, too!"

You wince away from Bokuto's intense eye contact-- you can't even look this man in the face, or keep your composure with his hand on your tummy. Forget about- What all did you say? Let him destroy you?

The weight of his dense body made the bed shift deeper in his favor, not Kuroo's. He was more than capable of destruction.

"Really?" You sigh, breathless.

Kuroo shimmied down to your side, at last, but it came with him stripping all of you of the blankets.

"Well, he can ask the questions," Bokuto leaned further over you, a new smell, a new kind of intensity.

His brow finally lowered to something more relaxed, his quick eyes bouncing around your somewhat covered body. A thumb, you're not sure whose, brushed your nipple and you flinched up towards him. The two worked in tandem to get you cozied up that way.

Finally, a hand that you know is Kuroo's, grabbed your chin to bring you in for a kiss. Bokuto watched, impatient, fully palming your chest.

Kuroo's mellow, deep voice brushes your lips, not quite done with kissing you, "D'ya mind if he gets a little taste while you take me through it?"

He was dumb, and hot, and enthusiastic-- the kind you might not want to date, but would make for a fun time. You trust that they talked about it. You trust that Kuroo knows you enough at this point, and will stop things if they get too out of hand. You're into it by now.

"I don't mind," You barely get out before he takes your mouth hostage again.

Bokuto, though clumsy, and heavy-handed and overexcited at the best of times, still made for a welcome change.

"Ohh- fuck, f-uck-!"

His tongue lapped enthusiastically at your soaked, sensitive cunt. Kuroo kept one of your legs to himself, holding it casually, with a lazy smile across his face.

"Mmm, does'he feel good, babygirl?" His words were a warm, confident purr against your hairline.

Kuroo typically was slower, kind of went at his own pace, when he went down on you. He liked talking while he did this sort of thing.

Bokuto sucked a soft, wet kiss to your clit before pressing the flat of his tongue all the way down, then right back up. He carried no intention of keeping anything 'toned down,' for the sake of romance. He just wanted you to cum, as fast as possible.

You gasped, nails scratching hard against his forearms.

"Yes-y-es, ah-h-!"

He hummed, approval- if you had to put a connotation to it, fingers firming around your throat, "Good, good. Now tell me about your day."

Your noncompliant whine, though realistically earned and downright adorable to him, was not what he asked for. He rested the side of his face onto his fist and sighed, pouty, at you.

"Hmmmm," Bokuto's interjection buzzed against you-

"M-mnh!"

"You two are, like, so cute," His head popped up for a second, his fingers grazing over your entrance, instead while he addressed his friend, "Good for you guys."

Kuroo grinned. "Thanks, buddy."

Their relaxed, apathetic conversation lit fire-y chills down your arms. Kuroo slid a heavy palm down to your wrist, smooth and controlled.

Sure, he was experimental most of the time, but this was a big first for both of you. You assumed he might tread on the more cautious side. Did he have everything so planned out that he didn't feel protective, or conservative with the information he gave, at least?

"Where's my recap, babygirl?" He, again, sighs at you. It's chock-full of wistful attitude.

"I-, I, I-- hh-oh-! Oh, my gosh--," Tears pricked your the corners of eyes.

Maybe Bokuto was really good at giving head, and Kuroo knew it? That's why he was forcing you to split your mind?

His tongue was just faster- the right pressure you needed, the right mix of messy and careful, quick and slow. His nose bumped your clit as he really got his face in it.

"Awww," Kuroo cooed at you.

The smile on his jaw faded every time he saw you looking at him. What an actor. He wasn't cut out to be so cold but he sure loved to pretend, especially for an audience.

"You better not cum, princess. I promised Koutarou he could try that pretty pussy out tonight."

His threat was so toneless, you took a few seconds of empty, clueless staring to understand him.

'Don't cum' didn't match up with his soft lips, sucking on your clit again. You felt him smile.

"Mm-!" You went to push him off of you, because you were way too close, "Bokuto- pl-ease--,"

"Shhh, baby. Call him Koutarou," He snickered at you.

Your fingers had barely reached his stiff, frosted tips before Kuroo intercepted them. His longer digits possessively laced through the webs of yours.

But he didn't take them back, like you expected him to. He set your hand on the back of Bokuto's head, pulling him in, encouraging him to stay right there--

"Mmmh," He moaned, obedient, relaxing against you.

His strong arms pulled at your hips. It shoved you right to the edge and there was nothing left to stop the momentum.

You squeaked out a panicked sound, and now that Kuroo wasn't holding your leg open, you squeezed his head between your thighs, panting, begging for a break. It didn't help to move him.

"A-aah-!"

Kuroo couldn't help but grin at your conflicted bliss and despair. It was, after all, evidence that you wanted to be good for him.

You were a trembling mess as you came down, muttering-, "N-no-, nono- I wasn't-- ah-hm, Koutarou!!"

Though Kuroo let your hand slip out from under his, his own was still affectionate and in place, tangled in the roots of his hair to keep him there.

It sounded wet, what he was doing to you.

You flinched, moaning and squirming at the overkill, but didn't dare grovel. Kuroo liked it too much. You'd be digging a deeper hole if you gave him the chance to tease.

Though overstim was his favorite torture on you, he couldn't be bothered to punish you for long after that. You tried so hard not to cum, and you were just too cute, so you got an automatic pass.

His palm slid away after he got his fill. Bokuto came up, practically drowning, but happy about it.

"You've gotta teach me that, sometime," Kuroo rolled onto his back and put hands behind his head. He was so hard, and it was laughably obvious through his shorts, but he made no moves to palm himself. Maybe he was trying something out?

His thigh prodded at yours, back and forth real slow, as a grounding sensation for you.

Bokuto licked his lips, wiped his face, and peered down at you like a meal, "How's tomorrow morning work?"

You were shaking like a leaf.

"Or--," He smirked, a little toothy and crooked at the solid number he had already done on you, "Fuck. What about right now?"

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: i can't PROMISE part 2 bc i've realized i be letting ppl down too much not delivering those. you're welcome to ask tho

♡ (i love getting inbox notifs) lmk what you thought: inbox

[l1tw1ck]

could I get a subbot afab Stanford x domtop amab reader drabble/fic, any plot is fine :)

cw: overstimulation, afab lang

"Don't you think it's time to take a break?" You ask, rubbing the lower half of Stanford's back. "You've been at it for hours."

"No, I need to finish this." He says as he tries to troubleshoot his new invention.

"Come on, Ford." You slide your hand down his pants and squeeze his ass. "A break wouldn't hurt."

Ford gulps. He turns to look at you. "You're right.."

👁️

Stanford moans your name as your cock slides in and out of his wet cunt, the wetness dripping down onto his workroom floor. "So good~" His knuckles are white from gripping his desk. His eyes are half lidded both from sleep deprivation and pleasure. It's like he's floating.

"That's right, babe, just let me take care of you." You gently massage his back. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

Ford mewls as he feels himself getting close. "[Name]~!" He bites down on his lip as he squirts, his pussy convulsing around your cock. "Don'- don't stop~" He loves it when you overstimulate him. You stroke his t-dick and fuck him harder. His eyes practically roll to the back of his skull. Cute strings of "yes, yes" "oh god" "more" "i love you" leave Ford's saliva ridden lips. You're good at making him forget about his work and all his worries. The two of you know each other so well, he can tell you're about to come. "Inside~ come inside~" He begs. You're quick to fulfill his request and pump his pussy full of your seed.

bonus bc i randomly got the idea

cw: consensual somnophilia

Ford is sleeping peacefully on his bed and it's clear he fell asleep without bothering to remove any of his clothes. As you're taking off his jacket and pants, you start to get a little horny. You remove his sweater, leaving him in just an undershirt and boxers. You slowly trail your hand across his body. You feel bad for wanting to fuck him when he was working so hard only a few hours ago but it's not like he wouldn't want this. Feeling "drunk" while getting fucked is his favorite way to be fucked. Being used is his second favorite. So waking up while you're fucking him and feeling both sleepy and delirious is something he will never dislike.

You remove his underwear and spread his legs open. You kneel down in front of the bed and bury your face in his hairy pussy. You swirl your tongue around his dick before sucking on it.

It doesn't take very long to make him come, he's always sensitive. When you know what buttons to push, he'll turn into a blubbering mess within a few minutes.

"Mm.." Stanford slowly opens his eyes, instantly recognizing the feeling of your cock inside him. He grins drunkenly, looking at you with hazy vision. "Harder, [Name]~" He mumbles. The bedsheets are wet from how many times you made him come.

[sreppub]

straight up, I wish you would write a fic to go with the art of Bruce crying over baby-fied Duke and Damian 🥹

The art in question :)

"Why are you crying?" Tim's incredulous toddler voice actually kind of surprises Bruce into stopping, just for a moment. It's not like he hadn't realized his eyes were getting glassy, but he thought he'd be safe to relax a little bit in his Alfred-ordered isolation with three drowsy babies while the older, noisier kids were being kept busy in a completely different wing of the manor.

The younger boys had been getting fussy but, thankfully, went to sleep within minutes of Bruce reclining on his bed with the both of them. He and Alfred had figured out how to troubleshoot with them pretty quickly; with Damian, try putting him down, and with Duke, try picking him up. Like two angelic little charms, Damian had settled down in the crook of Bruce's armpit, and Duke found peace atop Bruce's chest. Tim, his little wildcard, had been extremely wiggly when Bruce instructed him to lay on the bed beside Damian, so after some deliberation Bruce told him he instead could sit on the floor with his dinosaur encyclopedia (Bruce's, actually, from decades ago). Quiet time was still restful, right? Probably. Tim had seemed pleased—at least, until he wasn't and looked up to see if Bruce had gotten up to anything new while he'd been whispering, "Wow!" at faded dinosaur illustrations for the last half hour.

Are all three-year-olds capable of sounding so judgemental, or is his kid just special?

God, kids are so funny. If terrifying.

"I guess I felt sad," Bruce answers after a moment. He'd been grieving, mostly. Damian may not have died when Bruce thought he did, but Bruce had lost him. He'd missed out on a tiny, round-faced baby that drools like a waterfall, inherited his stupid pointed eyebrows, and has a dimpled little baby grip like a vice. Duke, who they'd thought would be funny to be dressed in pastel yellow, is happiest when he's being held, and all Bruce can think about is two people who were probably so in love with this kid they could barely put him down between them (and he couldn't blame them), and he feels like he has stolen this moment from them. He also couldn't give it back to them if he tried.

Bruce can only guess at what an appropriate level of honesty with a toddler is, so he just distills his rabbithole of heartwrenching thoughts into 'sad'.

Tim scrunches his little face in confusion, and Bruce's heart clenches because it's unbearably charming.

"The babies are making you sad?" It's clear from his tone that he's skeptical that the babies are capable of much of anything. They're not even awake, is the implied judgement. Before Bruce can formulate a response, Tim has scrambled up onto the bed and the man watches in slow motion as his fat little hand reaches for his fat little brother.

"Tim—" Bruce hisses, but the boy has already gotten a hold of Damian's chin, and is now... playing. The infant's sleeping pout is popped open, and closed, and open again, as Tim waggles his fingers. The first incredible thing that happens is that Damian remains fast asleep, sparse eyebrows furrowing but otherwise generally unbothered by the action. The second incredible thing is that Tim starts growling, in his soft little baby voice, in time with his puppeteering of Damian's mouth.

"Rrrroaw," he murmurs. "I'm a Dami-saur. Rrrrahh." And then he looks up at Bruce expectantly, like there's no way anyone would still think this baby is sad, when he's clearly a dinosaur and is therefore awesome.

Bruce still feels somewhat overwhelmed, but for different reasons now. He risks reaching for Duke's sleeping little face and mirroring Tim's antics. "Grrr." The two babies have a very gentle but thought-provoking back-and-forth conversation until Tim also drifts into sleep, his little hand caught in a very tiny raptor grip.