#i mean he apologized for it and he has panic attacks and his dick is ten inches throbbing and i really want him to fuck me

[seasononesam]

"he didn't look for dean in purgatory." okay. yay!

[loumandivorce]

crazy that they made guillermo go through some sort of fucked up bluebeards wife situation in which he had to meet and look after all 37 of nandors reincarnated wives and watch as one by one nandor killed them. his life is a horror show

[coldasyou]

hate when people are like "um ACTUALLY even though zack didn't kill someone, he helped a serial killer and therefore can still be arrested!" ... skills issue

[titania-sleeps]

Woman nutting in man is the only way. We should be like the seahorses. Only then will we reach nirvana

First Rut (Sub!Omega!Yandere x Alpha!Reader)

truly wise words, anon. i would have to heavily agree with you and thus,,, presenting,,, your first rut w adonis where you fuck him crazy and he enjoys it

one Adonis fic down, one more to go!

more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Introduction, Adonis Rides You, Adonis First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse, horny af manwhore omega, blowjob, kinda public sex, reader has dick (GN), minors DNI pls

Fuck. The time has come, hasn't it.

You close your eyes and lean against the hallway as the bustling crowd of students passes you. Dragging yourself by the feet, you trudge your way to hide under the staircase. The dingy area is just enough to curb the strongest of your desires, but there is still a gnawing feeling in you that needs to bite, tear, and consume.

It's only two in the afternoon, but you fetch your phone and send a quick text. Turning your phone off, you slide down the wall, not caring as the rugged edges of the wall snag against your neat uniform.

No more than five minutes pass when you hear quickening steps come your way. A sharp turn around the corner and a form that you're very familiar with emerges from the shadows. With a pretty blush on his face and his eyes wide like a doe, Adonis stands there nervously.

"You, uh, called for me," he breathes, his hands clutching the fraying edges of his sweater.

The sweet scent of roses and lemons attacks your senses, and your nails dig into your palm until it's bleeding. Why did you call him over again?

He seems to notice your state of struggle, so he runs to you, his hand on your shoulder as he brings his forehead to touch yours. It's your responsibility to contain yourself, but it's his mistake to get so close to you. Your hand sneaks around and wraps itself around the nape of his neck, bringing him closer.

"I'm burning," you whisper into his pink-tipped ears. His face erupts into a bright red and he stammers that he'll help you, that you can use him to calm down.

You push him away roughly, locking your arms to your side. You're breathing heavily, your vision growing hazy. You look up and he looks hurt, a worried frown on his usually bright countenance.

"Sorry... I"—God, he looks so cute—"didn't mean to...." Your weak apology brings out an immediate sigh of relief from Adonis. He kneels next to you, his hand placed over yours.

You groan, sending him a particularly piercing gaze. Your gaze burns into him, and you're holding yourself back with everything that you have. He stiffens in response, but his hand remains on yours.

"Class ends in an hour," he begins, his eyes flitting about anxiously, "so if you, um, need help..."

His offer hangs in the air, his clammy hand still laying gently over your own.

You don't need to think. You don't hesitate, because if you do, you might end up regretting what you're about to do. Instead, you submit to your instincts and you drag him down with you, your partner in crime.

Your mouth is on his in an instant, your teeth biting into his bottom lip. His lips part from his gasp, and you slip your tongue in, your free hand trailing under his shirt. Your nail scratches his toned stomach, and he moans into your kiss. You drag your nail down at a lazy pace, and your hand meets the tip of his bulge, straining against his pants.

He detaches from you, panic floating in his eyes. "W-wait, we're still at school—" You grab him by the tie, shutting him up with another messy kiss. He's protesting but you flip him so that he's the one against the wall, your hand placed next to his head on the wall.

"Be a good boy," you mumble in between kisses to his jaw and neck. His protests sputter out, replaced by quiet moans and tiny gasps. He's clutching the collar of your shirt tightly, but he doesn't push you away.

You lick the side of his neck, pressing a kiss onto it. "Very good," you praise. You hear him whisper a shy thank you, and you reward him with a kiss to his collarbone.

Your continued kisses have him gasping for more, but you stop abruptly. He whines, begging for you to keep going, but you have a better idea.

Only a second passes when his face is suddenly met with your cock, hard and red. You grin as his eyes widen like saucers, the blatant lust blossoming on his countenance. He's immediately subdued by the scent of it, his mouth opening subconsciously.

"Suck."

A single word is all he needs.

Adonis starts at your tip, lips brushing gently against you. Inspired by you, perhaps, he stamps small kisses down your entire length. Then he drags his tongue from your base, trailing along the underside of your cock, stopping only when he reaches the tip again. Opening his mouth, he takes you in.

You're melting into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue swirling around your sensitive spots, in a manner that is so intimately familiar with you. His dick is still bulging in his pants, begging to be released.

When he opens his eyes to gaze upon your form, his glance is hazy. He pushes his head down your length, your cock hitting the back of his throat. Adonis grimaces and he flinches, but he remains there, letting his throat do the work. He's gagging on you, and you're so close, but you grab him by his hair and pull your dick out.

"Why?" he whines, mouth opening instinctively, ready to take you in again.

You don't respond, and instead, you lift him up. Surprised, he wraps his arms around you.

"What are you doing—" His lips are met with yours again, and you slip his pants off with a quick flick of your fingers. He gasps into your kiss, but his arms around your neck tighten as he brings you even closer to him.

Adonis's cock leaks precum, dripping onto your shirt. Ignoring it, you push him against the wall, holding him up with one arm and using the other to align your cock to his hole. He moans softly, your tip grazing against his opening. Without warning, you slip your whole length in. It goes in without much resistance, and he's grabbing onto you desperately, face buried in the crevice of your neck.

You thrust up into him roughly, both your arms bracing him against the wall. His legs and arms wrap around your torso tightly as he moans into your neck.

"Fuck, you're so tight around me," you mutter. You shove as much of your cock into him as you can, angling it so it hits his prostate. His insides tighten, embracing your length in waves of convulsions.

"Ah ♡... [Y/N] ♡...!" He calls out your name, body quivering as you fuck up into him with reckless abandon. Every thrust is met with a wet moan and a little bit more of his precum trickling out. He's clinging onto you for dear life, a shaky grin dancing on his lips as his tongue hangs loosely.

You breathe into his neck, dragging your tongue along his neck. Your teeth graze his skin, leaving a burning trail of need on its way. He shudders, choked moans escaping from his throat as his eyes roll up in pleasure. You groan, feeling him spasm around your dick as both you and Adonis approach your limits.

"Bite me ♡," he whimpers into your ear, his breath hot. Your hips stutter, thrown off-guard by his plea; a flame unquelled in you roaring into its full life as your guarded desire is aided by the gas he spills.

But you reel yourself back, deciding to fuck him to oblivion so that he forgets. You can't bite him now; he'll be chained to you forever. And more importantly, you can't imagine doing that to the one person who seems to trust you above all else.

So instead, you lick his neck and give to him small, reassuring kisses. If he wishes for you to bite him in the future, you don't think you'll be able to hold yourself back. For the time being, though, you calm the knot that is forming at the base of your cock and thrust wildly into Adonis. Tears stream down his face as he moans your name over and over again; he speaks only your name and you are all that he sees.

"Please," he begs, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck, "please, please, b-bite me, I can't handle it anymore! ♡"

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself. "Be quiet," you whisper to him, increasing the pace. He obeys surprisingly well, swallowing and muffling his noises.

However, he isn't able to hold it in for long.

"I-I'm close, I wanna cum with you, I want you to mark me! ♡" he exclaims, kissing the corner of your lips. His hands scratch against your back, leaving marks to remind you of this day. Adonis's insides clench, and you shove it deep inside of him, head spinning as you release your thick seed into him.

"Bite me now, please, bite me right now!" he cries, face bright red and dick equally as red.

You don't listen to him and he has no choice but to cum at that very moment, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure of being filled. He wiggles in your grasp, nails digging into your back as his dick shoots out white ropes of cum.

His breathing comes out in quivering gasps, but he finds the strength to send you a reassuring smile anyway. He clings onto you, allowing you to lower him onto his feet slowly. Very kind of him, indeed, yet you're still aching for a bit more.

"Uh, do you want to... come over tonight?" Adonis asks, a pretty flush on his face. "Of course, if you don't want to, that's okay too, I know you're busy and—"

You lean in, caging him with one arm. He blushes, closing his eyes. Chuckling, you give him a flick to his forehead.

"Yeah, I'll be there tonight."

He opens his eyes, palm on his forehead, his pants still on the floor. A lovestruck grin is plastered ever-so lovingly on his lips.

not my best work. it only goes up from here?

-> masterlist

[inkdrinkerworld]

may i request reverse comfort with dick grayson??

or something where he takes care of reader and protects them.

Oh oh I have a thought!!! Dick x shy Team doctor!reader after an attack at the compound.

“It’s never this way round,” Dick says as he ushers you to the medical room with a hand firmly pressed to your thigh.

“No,” your teeth are gritted and you can feel your pulse hammering and the blood rushing through your head.

“On a scale of one to amputation, how bad is it?” He asks and you scoff, a sound that quickly turns into a gasp as Dick sets you on the work table.

“Like a six, Dick. It’s mostly surface level.” You say, teeth still gritted as you move his hand and take a peek at the wound. “Okay, maybe a little deeper than surface.”

Dick looks piqued. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows and his usual quick witted quips fall short. “Deep enough for needles or butterfly stitches?” There’s a hint of panic in his words if you listen closely. Which you aren’t doing.

“Needles just to be safe,” Dick hands you a pack of them and a pair of scissors, a grimace set on his face. “You don’t have to stay for this. I can stitch myself up.”

He shakes his head. “You got laser-beamed in your thigh because you were trying to get between me and Darkseid- that was stupid by the way.”

You shrug, “What was he even doing here? Thought he was more of Clark’s problem?”

He bats your hand away from your thigh and grabs gauze and some rubbing alcohol. “He is, but you know, one member of the Justice League’s problem is a problem for all of them.”

You hiss when he presses the cold gauze into your thigh and he murmurs a soft apology.

“Will he be back?” Dick thinks your adrenaline is just coming down and you’re starting to think a little clearer. It also lends to the fear bleeding into your words.

“Probably, but you won’t be here when he does, gorgeous.”

You frown, “I won’t?” Maybe it’s the way you ask, that soft insecurity in your tone that makes Dick pause.

“Hey, not like that. The Bat has a million safe houses, so do I. You can choose where you want to go, yeah?”

Your frown doesn’t move an inch. “How safe would I be in a place with no one else? What if it’s compromised and I’m there alone.”

Dick sets the gauze down and takes the tools from your hands. His fingers push your hair away from your face and stroke your cheeks. “Hey, hey. You’re snowballing, baby.”

You take a deep breath and sag against him. “I just,” you pause. “I don’t want to be somewhere new all alone.” He rubs your back and squeezes your shoulders before sitting on your rolling chair.

Dick threads the needle as he sits and makes full eye contact with you as he starts the stitch. “You won’t be alone,”

You shake your head, leaning back on your palms. “A house full of people I don’t know? I’ll be alone, Dick.”

He shakes his head, “I’ll come with you, if you want.” He knows this could all just be fear, that the fear of something worse happening is running circles in your mind right now, but he does mean it. “It’ll help us get closer.” The joke does its job in making you smile- especially when his eyebrows dance.

You watch him close the hole on your thigh in silence for a little while before saying, “Will you bring your movies?”

Dick’s smile is gargantuan as he closes off the stitch. “And whatever else you want me to, but I should tell you I feel offended that you don’t think my sparkling personality would be enough entertainment.”

“I never said that,” you slap his arm as he stands, watching as he reaches for a gauze pad to wrap over the wound.

Dick’s hands settle at your waist, “I’m serious about you getting in front of me being dumb. You can’t do that again,” his eyes are all serious as he looks at you and you realise then that he’d actually been terrified. “I can take a hit, yeah?”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek to stop from saying something silly. Like confessing your love for him when it could be dismissed as your adrenaline. Or knowing Dick, he wouldn’t stop teasing you ever about how you confessed after he played doctor and it was a violation of patient doctor relationship rules.

“Not that there’s ever going to be a time where you get the chance to do it again.” You roll your eyes. “I’ll make some time to teach you some hand to hand combat if you insist on being part time vigilante though.”

“With who?” If he says himself you’re going to go ablaze. You really are.

He saves you the real embarrassment by flashing you a smug grin but all it does it twist your belly up in knots and make your chest squeeze at how much you like him.

“Wanna tell me what to pack or are we not there yet?” You laugh then, a soft sound that makes Dick feel like he’d just found out the best cyber related information.

“We aren’t there, Dick. But help me down and I’ll show you to my stash of cookies- if they’re not blown to bits.”

[wooziorgans]

2. damage gets done || ljh

summary: a long, difficult conversation puts y/n and jihoon on the same page, but an impromptu visit from y/n’s parents make that page seem chapters away. the best way to get over your feelings? fucking them out.

pairing: idol!woozi x male soloist!reader

genre: angst. smut. fluff. hurt/comfort.

warnings: bi-curious reader. reader has hella daddy issues. homophobia. internalized homophobia. reader has a panic attack of sorts?. readers parents show up n it all goes to shit. readers dad is super homophobic. fingering. sword crossing. jihoon gets his boobs sucked. nipple play. hickeys. kinda mean dom reader. soft dom reader. top reader. mentions of blood/tearing something during sexual activity (not detailed). anal sex. bottom jihoon. sub jihoon like hardcore. unprotected sex. blowjobs. big dick jihoon. bigger dick reader. stomach bulge. aftercare. crying. woozi in glasses n a bun.

word count: 10k

a/n: i did not mean for this to be so angsty i am sooo sorry abt this chapter but it comes w the premise of the prompt im writing off of. i am still sick but i got this done finally. (everybody cheered)

previous | masterlist | next

The following morning, and subsequent weeks after you slept with Jihoon are weird. There’s a new rhythm the two of you fall into, but it’s not an immediate change. 

You brushed him off the morning after, locking yourself in your room until it was time to head to the studio, and then avoiding him until he came banging on your door, begging to talk it out. He sounded so hurt; something you’ve only heard in his voice a few times, and never directed towards you. Despite your own internal turmoil, you would not let Jihoon brood in his own feelings. When you did finally let him in to your room, he shyly confessed that he thought he had come onto you too strong, that he was worried he had fucked up your friendship irreversibly. 

That wasn’t the case at all. You needed some time to process what had happened last night, but you needed to do it away from Jihoon. His presence had felt overwhelming that morning, and you needed some time to really digest the fact that you sucked your best friend's dick and then he gave you the most mind blowing head you’ve ever received. You told him such, and his cheeks flushed a deep red at the admittance that he was that good at sucking dick. You also apologized for not communicating that to him earlier in the day.

Jihoon took it like a champ, hardly able to hold eye contact with you when he asked what it meant in terms of your friendship now. Respectively, there was your life before Jihoon, your life during the beginning blossoms of friendship with him sprouting its tiny little buds to bloom into something beautiful, and there was now. You’ve never felt so understood by anyone before or after Jihoon, and losing that because you enjoyed having your tongue inside his ass would be a shame. “Nothing has to change. Of course, it kind of has… but we don’t have to make it weird.” You said, hand reaching out to grab his in reassurance. 

You could see the anxiety creasing his face, and it dissolved once you touched him. The two of you were just so close as friends that it made sense to keep being friends. If anything else happens, it happens. That was what you told him. 

Things did start happening, but it took a few days of unusual distance between the two of you until you got fed up with it and pulled his head down on your lap as you watched television together. You just sat like that, hand in his hair in the way it always was, and things were normal. They had changed slightly, but they were normal. 

Until they weren’t. Still half asleep, Jihoon found you in the kitchen one morning making coffee. He wrapped his arms around your waist, bare chest pressing into the skin of your back. Out of reflex, he began pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. You shuddered, instinct kicking in to push him away, but then you took a few seconds to really feel his lips on your skin, and you let it happen. 

You had spun him around to kiss him on the lips, which ended up in a heated makeout session with Jihoon trapped between you and the counter. He dropped to his knees, pulling your cock out of its constraints before taking you tip to base into his mouth. He had you cumming in minutes, messy bed head in his face until your hands brushed it back, eyes still half lidded with sleep. Jihoon pulled off right as you started to cum, tongue out as he let the thick white ropes hit his mouth and face. 

Then he got up and walked away. You heard the shower run as you stood there, gripping the counter as you caught your breath. Later, once he was showered you asked him what the fuck that was about. He just shrugged, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I’m always horny in the mornings,” was all he offered as he took a seat beside you on the couch. 

This prompted another long conversation about the direction things were going. The biggest, and hardest change for both of you to agree on was to stop saying I love you. It was something that came quite naturally in your friendship; at the end of every phone call, leaving each other after hanging out, before you snuck off into your respective rooms for the night, you always said it. Both of you agreed that if you were going to start doing the whole friends with benefits thing, that aspect of your dynamic needed to be null and void to prevent anything more complicated from happening. 

After that, things did change. Instead of hiding out in your rooms when you needed to get off, you’d find each other. The biggest change was that you just… kiss each other now. In the mornings, when you have a few minutes alone in the studio, while watching anime together, before you go to bed. Most of the time, it doesn’t go anywhere, but sometimes it does, and you pull Jihoon into your lap to grind against each other. 

You’ve learned a lot about Jihoon since all of this started. He’s quite needy, though he’ll never tell you that with his words; opting to tug at your sleeves when he wants something, or just goes after it if he lacks the energy to play the subtle cat and mouse game. You fingered him for the first time a few weeks ago, and discovered that he loves prostate stimulation. It renders him completely spent, has him gasping and whining against you in a way you can never seem to get enough of. 

You’ve also learned that Jihoon is super big on aftercare. He says it’s important, which you know it is. You were always the one doing the aftercare with previous sexual partners, but Jihoon takes the reins sometimes and wipes your skin down with a warm cloth while peppering you skin with soft kisses as you come down. You’ve never really been taken care of before, but it’s nice. You and Jihoon have fallen into a natural rhythm with each other. You’re typically in control because Jihoon is rather submissive, but he has his moments where he has you losing your grasp on reality. 

It’s so nice; being taken care of. You run a bath for the both of you after you finger him, not wanting there to be any discomfort for him later, and he takes that time to help you wash up. Though your relationship is now quite sexual in its nature, the bones of your friendship peak through in the aftermath. 

It’s not all smooth sailing. You have moments of deep, intense panic after getting off with Jihoon. It’s quite sporadic; one day you’ll be fine, the next you’ll do the same thing and hate yourself for it. Jihoon refuses to leave you alone when you're like that, no matter how much you insist. He knows you can’t be left alone to your own thoughts when so much is still being internalized, and you know he’s right. 

Most nights you fall asleep with each other, half of it being a safety measure to make sure you don’t overthink in the morning, the other an instinctual craving for another person's warmth. Jihoon sleeps better when you’re there; his normal bouts of insomnia slipping away as he envelopes himself in your arms. 

Waking up next to Jihoon has to be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever had the privilege of experiencing. He doesn’t wake up grumpy per se, but he does whine when you go to pull away. His lips are always puffed out in a pout as you try and put a little space between the two of you. He grabs onto your shirt to keep you in bed, burying his face into your chest as he whines incoherently. 

This morning is no different. It’s been three months since your friendship with Jihoon morphed into something that required you to have a lot more trust in each other. You fall asleep in Jihoon’s bed almost every night now, waking up next to him all the same. 

Today, he’s particularly whiny, fists tight in your shirt as he tries to convince you to stay close to him with soft kisses to your neck and jaw. The issue with this is that Jihoon radiates heat like a furnace. You’re overheating, sweat beading on your forehead as you try to push him off of you. It’s futile; all he does is grab onto you tighter. “Angel, please. You’re gonna boil me alive like this.” You plead, finally kicking the covers off of you. He whines again, finally giving you a little space. Jihoon’s grip on your shirt loosens as he rolls onto his back. 

The bun he put into his hair before he went to bed is loose and messy. Jihoon huffs out a breath before he gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom. You almost miss the morning wood he’s sporting, somehow never noticing it against your thigh.

You lay there, catching your breath and cooling down as you wait for him to return. Jihoon is back ten minutes later, bun in his hair fixed and neat, with thick rimmed black glasses on his face. He’s been wearing them a lot recently, not that you mind. He looks good in glasses, despite his eyesight being fine. The new addition to his face distracts you from what's missing. 

Jihoon has discarded his boxers, cock fully erect against his stomach as he crawls onto your lap. He seems more awake now as his hands find the hem of your sleep shorts. Even just seeming him so clearly hard has your cock twitching. You were already half hard from the way he pushed himself on you earlier. 

You sit up, back leaning against the pillows as your hands settle on his hips. Jihoon palms you through your shorts, teasing you carefully before he pulls your cock out. He plants a soft kiss to your lips, letting it linger as he shifts his hips forward. Your cocks bump into each other, and both of you moan lowly. Jihoon spits into his hand, wrapping it around both of you.

Initially, the concept of rubbing your dick against another mans freaked you out when Jihoon suggested it, but you ended up enjoying it a lot more than you thought you would, especially with Jihoon’s hand in the mix. It became something you did often enough, mostly when you fingered him. “Cleaned myself out. Need your fingers or I’ll lose my mind.” He sighs, eyes closing carefully. Your hand falls to his ass, middle finger carefully finding its way to his entrance. You can feel the remnants of lube around his hole, and instead of stalling, you push the tip of your finger inside of him.

Jihoon clearly wasn’t expecting that, that much is obvious when he squeaks out a choked moan, head falling into your neck to hide the flush spreading over his face. 

“Needy this morning, are we?” You jest, voice still low with sleep. Jihoon rolls his hips down on your finger, taking it deeper.

“Fuck, clearly.” He laughs softly. “You can add another, I can take it.” Jihoon’s ass sucks your finger in as you prod at it with a second. While you could slip a second finger in, there's not enough lube present for that. You’re quite cautious when it comes to fingering him; the second time you did it, you ended up tearing something. It wasn’t a huge deal, Jihoon wasn’t in any pain, but there was a little blood. 

“I know you can, angel. Grab the lube for me, yeah?” You prompt. The bottle of lube now has a permanent spot on the bedside table from how often it gets used. It’s almost empty. Jihoon rolls his eyes at you, reaching over to grab it. Your hand follows his hips, still keeping your finger inside of him as he moves. He doesn’t move far. You pull your finger out of him once he’s settled back on your lap. He whines, grabbing at your shirt as you take the lube from him. With both of your hands focused on something else and not him, he rolls his hips up, cocks brushing against each other as his grip around them tightens. 

You pause your movements, finger stalling on the pump of the bottle. Jihoon flattens his palm against your chest, repeating the motion again. You hiss softly, bottom lip finding purchase between your teeth to silence yourself. You know Jihoon is doing this on purpose to try and get a response out of you. While you’re not a grunt as you cum guy, you’re not necessarily vocal either. Jihoon wants to hear you, and if he has to play dirty, then he’ll do that. You, however, are having none of it. 

Regaining your grasp on reality, you press the pump of the bottle, squirting lube onto your fingers. Not bothering to properly lather them, your hand moves back to Jihoon entrance. You save the build up and push both of them in, immediately getting a response from Jihoon. You push both fingers in until you can’t, twisting your wrist so your palm is now brushing his balls. 

Jihoon rolls his hips again. “Angel, let me do the work. You just sit here and look pretty.” Your hand finds its way up his shirt, pushing the fabric up so that you can place a kiss to the pale skin of his chest. Your lips brush his nipple, and his back arches into your touch as he moans. Jihoon tries to push himself further down onto your fingers. You pull away from his chest, eyes narrowing in a warning. Jihoon just blinks down at you, before doing it again.

“What did I just say?” It’s a rhetorical question, one asked to try and stop him from doing that, but Jihoon answers you anyway.

“Dunno,” He huffs out, and you can see from the look in his eyes and the slight smirk on his lips that he does know what you just said. He rolls his hips again, fist tightening around both of your dicks as he tries to make you move your fingers inside of him. It feels so overwhelmingly good, that you momentarily forget your need to assert yourself as you latch your mouth around his nipple. Jihoon whines quietly, grip tightening in your shirt and around your cocks.

Jihoon removes his hand from your chest to hold his shirt up. You decide to give him what he wants for now, flicking your tongue against the sensitive pink bud on his chest. He’s so responsive to each pull and tug on his nipple, back arching as he pants softly. All you can hear are his moans, and they pull you out of whatever headspace you fell into. You pull away from his chest with a lewd, wet pop. His pec shines with your split, the skin around his nipple a light bruise from the suction. Jihoon rolls his hips again, desperate for more at the loss of contact. 

Your hand falls back on his ass, spreading him apart as you slowly fuck him with your fingers. Jihoon’s cock starts to leak, slick precum dripping down his shaft, over his milky knuckles and off onto the dark fabric of your shirt. “I’ve hardly even done anything, angel.” You grip the soft flesh of his ass harshly. “Since you want to do everything by yourself, even though I told you to just sit pretty.” He huffs softly at you, rolling his eyes as he thrusts up into his hand. 

Out of pure reflex, your hand cracks down on his ass. Hard. Jihoon’s breath stutters, movements immediately stopping. “Oh. Oh, shit.” He hisses softly, eyes watering softly at the contact. You can’t see it, but from the way the skin of his ass is burning, you’re pretty sure there is a noticeable handprint. Immediately, you rub the skin of his ass softly to soothe the sting. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Your voice sounds like a breath with how unsure you are with what just happened. “I shouldn't've–” Jihoon cuts you off by pulling you in for a kiss. It’s dirty; all tongue and spit and the quiet whines that slip up and out of his throat. When he pulls back, he's out of breath and red in the face.

“Fuck, do that again. Please.” Jihoon rolls his hips to prompt you into punishing him, and you give him what he wants. Jihoon’s lips part, pink and pretty as he moans out when your hand makes contact with his ass again.

“Y’know,” you bite, “if we had the time and the lube, I would fuck the attitude out of you.” Your hand cracks down on his ass again, kneading the flesh once it’s in your palm. Jihoon moans, head falling back.

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll cum.” He chokes out through a strained laugh. You push your fingers in deeper, twisting them to elicit a sharp moan from him. “I never did take you for a dirty talker.” You laugh softly.

“You sure its not the idea of me fucking you that’s getting you going?” You ignore his attempt at banter, opting to instead rile him up a bit more. At your suggestion, Jihoon moans again. You twist your fingers again, angling them back towards you and hitting his prostate perfectly. He rolls his hips again, much to your dismay.

Another sharp crack to his ass. This time you spread him apart. “Shit, fuck, ‘m sorry.” He gasps. You stop thrusting your fingers inside of him, and instead focus on just milking his prostate. He whines, eyes rolling back in his head as he finally listens to you and stops the movement of his hips. 

“It's not so hard to listen to me, is it angel?” You keep your pace on his prostate brutal. Jihoon seems to fall apart on your fingers, muscles twitching as he just takes it. “God, you’re so fucked out right now that all you can do is listen to me.” Jihoon just nods weakly, dark frames slipping down his face. You push them back up his face, planting a soft kiss on his lips. 

He’s barely able to return it, lips parted as he pants and moans. Everything around Jihoon feels like white noise. His grip on your cocks tightens, and you know he's right there. You’re getting quite close too, cock twitching against Jihoon’s at the sounds he's making. 

A few more prods directly to his prostate, and Jihoons cock is shooting thick, white ropes that stain the dark fabric of your t-shirt. The soft sounds he’s making are so erotic as the last of his cum leaks down his fist. You pull your fingers out of him, wiping them on your shirt before you reach up to pet his hair. The dark strands that are too short to fit in his bun frame his face. 

Jihoon’s refractory period is rather short. He slides down your legs, moving his hand to his mouth to lick it clean of his own release. He pushes the glasses back up his nose before he takes you into his mouth. Tip to base as always, he holds you in his throat for a few seconds and it’s all you need before you’re cumming down it. 

Jihoon sputters softly, almost like he’s about to gag. He doesn’t though; just tightens his throat around you until you’ve finished completely. When he pulls off, he’s panting softly, eyes watery as he lays down beside you to catch his breath. 

You’re fairing no better, out of breath from the force of your orgasm. Jihoon seems to have that effect on you. Both of you just lay there, panting until you regain the energy to move. You move first, pulling your sleep shorts back up over your now soft cock, before throwing your cum covered shirt off. Jihoon stares at you, eyes raking over your chest and shoulders. You laugh softly when he looks away after you catch him. “What?” You jest, sitting up.

“Nothing.” Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms and rolling over, away from you. “You’re hot.” He whispers, but you still catch him in the act. You can see the tips of his ears turning red. You lean over him, pushing your hand down on his shoulder so he turns back on his back. 

Jihoon attempts to cover his face with his hands. You pull his slender hands away from his face, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before moving to his lips. His face is beet red from the domesticity of the action, glasses knocking into your cheek at the strange angle. “Let’s get ready. You have practice in an hour.” You whisper, moving the hair out of his face with a feather-like touch. 

Immediately, Jihoon shoots up, glancing at the clock. “Oh, shit.” He all but throws himself off the bed, digging through his closet to find clothes. You throw your head back in a hearty laugh, completely enamoured with amusement at Jihoon’s sudden change in demeanour.

“You’re really tense.” Seungkwan jabs a finger into your shoulder. The practice room is buzzing with noise during the fifteen minute break everyone is taking. From the other side of the room, Jihoon watches Seungkwan intensely. Seungkwan digs the heel of his hand into your back, attempting to untie the knot in your shoulder. You sigh softly. 

“My parents are coming for dinner tonight.” You roll your eyes softly, cracking your shoulder as you stretch. You catch Jihoon’s eye as you look around. He’s hardly paying any attention to his conversation with Soonyoung as he glares daggers into Seungkwan. You stifle a laugh at his obvious annoyance at someone else's hands on you.

“Oh. Oh shit.” You see Seungkwan’s eyes widen in the large mirror. You just shake your head, laughing softly at his reaction. “And you’re meeting at a restaurant or…?” You shake your head again.

“No, the apartment.” You exhale sharply when Seungkwan hits a sensitive part of your shoulder, close to your neck. 

“With Jihoon?” He asks, working the spot with much more care than before. “Yeah… yeah, it’s… yeah.” Is all you can manage.

“I imagine that’ll go… swimmingly.” He huffs, slightly miffed at even imagining the situation. “Your dad’s still…?” Seungkwan trails off. 

“Yeah. I’m not gonna say anything but… if he starts anything I will tell him to leave.” It’s almost uncharacteristic, the way you’re speaking about kicking your father out, when you’ve spent years tolerating his beliefs in passive compliance, far too scared of him to actually say anything about them. 

You watch Jihoon leave his conversation to go sit against the wall. He’s still watching you and Seungkwan intensely, eyes narrowing as Seungkwan keeps working on your shoulder. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but it’s good that you’re standing your ground.” You laugh, because it does mean a lot to hear something like that out loud. 

“Thank you. I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to stand up to him when it comes down to it, but the fact that I’m even thinking about it is… good.” You stifle another sound when Seungkwan focuses his attention on your other shoulder. You can’t exactly tell Seungkwan what has changed. You can’t exactly tell him you’ve been fucking around with one of his bandmates. You can tell him other things, so you do as he works out your shoulders. 

“There. All better?” He asks, as he releases his grip on your shoulders. You nod, humming softly as you stand up. “Go talk to Jihoon. He’s brooding.” Seungkwan must have noticed how tense Jihoon was throughout the duration of your conversation. 

“Maybe he needs a massage too.” You jest, knees cracking as you stand. Seungkwan cringes at the sound.

“Oh, he’d kill me if I even tried to.” He laughs, patting your back to send you on your way. You walk over to Jihoon, taking a seat on the floor next to him.

“What’s got you in such a mood, angel?” You whisper, voice low so no one is able to hear the pet name you use. 

“Nothing. I’m not in a mood.” He hisses, leaning back against the wall. Jihoon’s bun is looser now. You’ve seen him take it down and redo it five separate times during the practice you decided to sit in on. You chuckle, patting his thigh softly.

“You’re brooding.” You state.

“I am not brooding.” Jihoon rolls his eyes at you, expression completely flat. He is brooding.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, angel.” When he doesn’t say anything, you laugh a little louder. “Oh my god, you are. Over Kwan? Really?” Jihoon pinches your arm to get you to shut up.

“Stop, seriously. Why would I be jealous?” He snaps.

“Take it easy. I’m just teasing you.” You brush his thigh with your thumb. “But if you want to take things so seriously, maybe I will have to fuck the attitude out of you afterall.” Jihoon’s demeanour immediately changes. His face starts to burn and his eyes go wide.

“Y/N, stop. What if someone hears you talk like that?” He whispers, despite the fact that everyone else is busy on the other side of the practice room, and far too loud to even hear you if you were talking at a normal volume. All you want to do is lean over and kiss him to distract him from his paranoia. You don’t. Instead, you smile softly at him, giving his thigh a soft squeeze. You know if you keep talking to him like that, he’ll potentially pop a boner in the middle of practice, and he’d never forgive you for that, even if it’s hypothetical. 

“Get back to practice, angel. I’ll see you at home.” You stand as you notice everyone else slowly getting back into their places to resume practice. Jihoon follows you, stretching as he stands.

After panic cleaning the entire apartment in an hour, and being sure to hide any and all evidence of your sexual relationship with Jihoon, you finally take a moment to breathe as the text from your mom comes in. Your parents are stopping to get gas, and then they’ll be at your apartment. 

You have roughly ten minutes before the storm rolls in, and in all honesty, you’re not entirely sure if you’ve had enough time to prepare. Jihoon started grilling the chicken you seasoned last night in preparation for your parents arrival, insisting that you take a minute and get your shit together. 

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. There are many reasons. For starters, your father isn’t the most open minded person out there and your roommate and best friend is a gay man. You have no plans of mentioning that. You and Jihoon talked about it on the ride home, and have briefly discussed your relationship with your father before. It’s a mutual agreement that Jihoon’s love life is off the table for discussion tonight. 

You also haven’t really seen your parents long enough to share a meal in the last year; at least not since you were with your ex-girlfriend. That was nearly a year ago at this point. Last time you saw your parents, you were straight. And, well, now you’re not. At least not completely. 

Jihoon emerges from the kitchen, immediately walking over to you when he notices you pacing across the living room. He grips your forearms tightly, stopping you in your tracks. 

You look down at him, anxiety easing up a bit once you’re in his presence. “Stop pacing, you’re gonna wear a hole through the floor.” He laughs hesitantly, unsure if his joke will land. You laugh quietly alongside him, leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous.” He gets on his toes to kiss you once more. Jihoon smiles at you with so much tenderness it makes your chest tighten softly.

“I know,” he breathes, hand finding its way up to the back of your neck to play with the hair. “But you’ll be okay.” He gives you another soft kiss.

You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him for a few moments before the buzzer to your building sounds throughout the apartment. You fix the loose strands that frame Jihoon’s face, smoothing down the bumps in his worn bun before you pull away to unlock the door for your parents. The obvious nerves on your face manifest themselves as your hand shakes when you go to open the door. 

Jihoon busies himself in the kitchen, carefully watching the chicken and rice. The vegetables are done, placed on the back burner with the lid on to keep them warm. Jihoon can hear your mom’s bright voice as she pulls you into a tight hug. “Oh, you’ve gotten so muscular!” She chimes, and your bright laughter sounds the entire apartment. 

Jihoon’s heart tightens at the sound. He hasn’t heard you laugh like that in a while, warm and lovely. He pushes the feeling down as he flips the spatula in his hand, eyes suddenly blurry as he takes a deep breath to ground himself. Now is not the time for this. Get a grip; be in love with him later. 

The gruffness of your fathers voice pulls Jihoon back into the kitchen. He stirs aimlessly as he hears footsteps getting closer. You and your mom are already deep in conversation. You’re explaining the concept of your next album to her animatedly, hands flailing in a makeshift diagram. Jihoon catches your eye, and you smile softly before telling your parents to take a seat.

You step into the kitchen to get your parents drinks, coffee already brewed and hot. Jihoon doesn’t acknowledge you, purely focused on flipping chicken. You resist the urge to snake your arm around his waist, something you always do now when cooking. He shuts off the burner for the chicken, placing the lid on the pan to keep the heat in. As you pour your dad a cup of black coffee, you hum softly to get Jihoon’s attention. 

He finally looks at you, expression completely blank. “You okay?” You whisper. Your parents are talking quietly in the dining room, and your fathers voice suddenly makes the air unsettling.  

Jihoon hums softly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I just feel a little weird.” You nod, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze. You pour your mom a cup of cool water, juggling the cups in each hand. Jihoon laughs softly. 

“Come say hi?” You ask in an attempt to pull him out of the kitchen and his thoughts. “You don’t have to, but my mom wants to meet you.” Jihoon swallows hard, before he follows you out of the kitchen. Your mom smiles brightly at the sight of Jihoon’s unfamiliar face. 

“You must be the roommate.” Your mom greets, hand held out to shake his hand. Her hospitality in his own home catches Jihoon off guard. He takes a second to get his bearings before he shakes her hand, a soft smile on his lips. He pushes his glasses back up his face as he takes a seat. 

Your father doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t make any attempt to introduce himself, but that’s probably for the better. Your mom pulls Jihoon into a conversation quickly. You watch them talk, eyeing your father every so often. His gaze is focused entirely on Jihoon, almost like he’s trying to dissect him piece by piece. You know that look. It makes your skin crawl. 

Jihoon excuses himself to use the bathroom, and once he’s gone your father takes the opportunity to speak his mind, much to your dismay. “That Jihoon is quite… feminine, especially with his hair like that.” You roll your eyes internally at your fathers words. “Your  hair is quite long too.” Your undercut has grown out a few inches, now making your hair much more flowy than it used to be with the new length. It’s not even that long, but any display of anything that isn’t cold cut masculinity seems to irk your father. “Quit it.” Your mom hisses quietly, though it seems to fall on deaf ears.

“You’re not associating yourself with queers are you? You’re not becoming one yourself, are you son?” He asks, and it seems to snap something inside of you; knowing he’d never be able to interact with Jihoon normally if you were upfront about everything.

“No! Jesus Christ, would you cut it out?” You snap, as you hear the bathroom door open. Jihoon appears in your line of sight as he walks down the hallway back to the table. Jihoon can see the tension in your face. Your father would have no problem ripping you a new asshole for snapping at him like that in front of other people when you were younger, but he doesn’t say anything. He just glares at you, and Jihoon once he takes a hesitant seat back at the table. 

Your mom dissolves the tension by talking to Jihoon again, though you can still feel the edges of your frustration bubbling as your father just watches. The rice cooker beeps, and you and Jihoon both stand at the same time to go bring out plates and the food. “Will you be joining us for dinner, Jihoon?” Your mom asks, slightly hopeful, and you can already tell she’s taken a liking to him. Jihoon hesitates for a few seconds, eyes meeting yours.

“Uh, no, sorry. I have a late schedule tonight, otherwise I would.” Jihoon laughs softly, both of you know it's at the half-assed lie falling past his lips, but neither of your parents know any better. Still, your heart sinks softly in your chest. You gave Jihoon the option for an out tonight, and he’s taking it.

“Let me grab your headphones that I borrowed.” You say softly, motioning with your head for Jihoon to follow you into your bedroom. Both of you leave your parents at the table to have a few moments alone amidst the disaster that is, and always has been, a family dinner. 

Jihoon sits on your bed, unfamiliar with the way your bed frame creaks. “I heard him.” He whispers, and you feel a small part of yourself die. 

Jihoon had told you, years ago, that he hated when people made him feel small. Not only physically, but emotionally. He hated the way it made him feel so helpless. In this situation, Jihoon is completely helpless. Whether your mom unearths something through conversation that he’d rather not have out on the table, or if your father starts grilling him about his rather feminine features and flamboyant mannerisms, Jihoon is destined to feel small in this situation. So he’s doing what’s best for the time being; he’s leaving, taking himself out of the equation so no more damage can get done. Your father’s already suspicious of something, and Jihoon would rather not let you take the blunt end of its force by him being around to spark up that suspicion. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You choke out. Jihoon stands up to grab your hand carefully.

“No, I’m sorry that I can’t stick it out and support you. I just, I can’t force myself to be in a situation like this right now.” He kisses your neck softly. It does very little to calm your anxiety which is running rampant at the moment. Your eyes start to glaze over and Jihoon shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing. He gets on his toes to kiss you properly, lets it linger until the tension in your face eases. “Just breathe, you’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m just going to the gym since we didn’t have time this morning.” He brushes your grown-out bangs to the side. 

Jihoon’s gaze is so incredibly tender, so careful, that it does calm you down. “Okay,” you breathe out, hand coming up to hold the side of his neck. 

“I know we agreed to stop saying it because of our situation, but please remember that I love you. You’re more resilient than you think, Y/N.” Jihoon’s hand finds its spot on top of yours as he leans into your touch. You laugh quietly at his attempt to encourage you; still, it works.

“I know,” You whisper. “Love you too.” 

Jihoon pats your chest softly with an open fist. “Give me back my headphones.” He whispers, and you laugh softly, pulling away from him to go retrieve the headphones you borrowed. You did borrow his headphones, so it’s not like you’re completely lying to your parents. You grab them off of your desk, placing them around his neck before you lean down for one last kiss. Jihoon squeezes your shoulder in reassurance before he heads off to his room to grab his gym bag.

You leave your room to go back and brave your parents while you set the table and bring the food out. Jihoon says goodbye to your mom on the way out, and then he’s gone, lock clicking softly behind him. 

There’s not much conversation as you eat, other than your parents praising the food and telling you how excited they are to see your aunt in Busan. The entire time, your father is eyeing you carefully. You ignore it, until he asks to use the bathroom on the way out. “First door on the right.” You guide.

Once he’s gone, your mom decides to speak. Her voice is shaky, a clear indication of her hesitancy around the question she’s about to ask. “You and Jihoon, you’re not dating are you?” It catches you off guard, makes you lose balance even though you were standing perfectly still seconds before. If you had a drink, it would’ve been spat out, all over your poor mother. 

“What?! No!” You gasp, in hushed shock. Your mom just shakes her head softly.

“You’ve never looked at anyone like that before. You’ve never brought anyone home, and you live with him. It’s not unreasonable for a mom to want her son to be happy, is it?” You sputter for a few seconds before she keeps going. “I know we haven’t had time to have that conversation yet, but I can see he makes you happy. Whatever’s going on between the two of you, if it makes you happy then it’s worth something.” She squeezes your shoulder softly.

Before you have time to reply, the bathroom door opens and your father approaches the porch to slip his shoes on. 

“Drive safe.” You offer in an attempt to break the unusual amount of silence.

“We will. Call sometime, yeah? You know I worry.” Your mom ruffles your hair softly, a habit she never dropped from your childhood. You grimace, and she smiles.

“I will, I will. It’ll be dark when you get there.” You open the door for them, ushering them outside into the hallway. 

“I love you.” Your mom hums, fumbling with the keys in her hand.

“I love you too. Text me when you get there.” Your mom hums again, waving as they begin to walk to the elevator. You don’t watch them until they're gone. Instead, you close the door, stepping back inside, and take a deep breath.

You start the tedious task of cleaning up, packing leftovers for Jihoon into glass containers and putting away ingredients that were forgotten in the chaos. You notice barely a cup of rice left in the container, and decide to distract yourself with a trip to the shop; not before you call Jihoon to tell him you might not be home when he gets back. He keeps the call short, knowing he has a set of five to finish and that you use shopping as a way to decompress. 

You also pick up another bottle of lube, mask pulled tightly over your face, cap pulled down as you use the self checkout, shoving the bottle in the pocket of your hoodie. When you return home, the kitchen light is on again, which means Jihoon is home. You told him about the leftovers on the phone, and when you put away the rice, you checked the fridge to see the containers weren't there. The sink is empty, which means he already washed them. 

Sometimes you think Jihoon is a godsend, and this is one of those moments. 

The shower seems to be running in his suite, and you take the opportunity to change into plaid pyjama pants, forgoing a shirt altogether. With nothing else to do, and simply wanting Jihoon’s company, you wait for him on his bed, the new bottle of lube replacing the old ones spot on top of the bedside table.

The shower stops, and you hear the whirl of the blow dryer for a few minutes. That stops too. The various clinking noises from the bathroom stop, and the door opens. Jihoon pads into his bedroom, a silky black robe covering his naked torso. He jumps at the sight of you on his bed, shirt somewhere else as you sit against the headboard. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” He laughs softly, walking towards you. “I didn’t know you were home.” You spread your legs, patting your thigh for him to join you.

Jihoon does as you silently request, thick thighs straddling your waist as he takes a seat on top of you. His hair is still a little damp as it brushes your neck when he leans in for a kiss. You return it slowly, taking your time to lap at his mouth. Jihoon moans quietly, fingers brushing over your chest and shoulders as you kiss him stupid. 

Your hands find his ass naturally, gripping and kneading the flesh softly over the silk of his robe. You push the fabric up, over his ass to have direct access to the hem of his boxers. Jihoon moans again when you deliver a soft slap to the area over his briefs. Your hand makes contact with the material, and instead of going back in for another one, you grip the flesh of his ass harshly, pulling him apart. 

You move two fingers towards his hole to tease him, and that’s when you feel it.

Something foreign and geometric greets your fingers. It’s warm from his body heat, but still colder than the rest of his skin. Both of you still, and Jihoon turns his face away from you to hide his embarrassment. “What’s this, angel?” You ask, pushing your fingers directly against the object. Jihoon squeaks softly, body jolting before he lets out a low moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just rocks his hips back against yours, and you can tell from the movement of his face against your neck that his bottom lip is in between his teeth to keep himself quiet. You do it again, whilst your other hand comes up to the silk belt of his robe. In one quick motion, you pull the knot undone, and his whole bare chest meets yours. 

Jihoon pulls away from you in slight shock at the fluidity of your movements, the ability you have to undo knots one handed. As if you haven’t been unhooking bras for years. You chuckle softly as your hands find the band of his briefs, and you pull those down over his ass with just as much fluidity. 

Jihoon’s cock slaps his stomach, and it’s only now that you notice he’s hard, already leaking, and you suspect it might be because of the plug inside of him. You take a moment to take in his state of undress; milky, soft skin and muscles which are still pumped from his workout, and his pretty pink cock which is leaking beads of precum down his shaft. You’ve seen him shirtless before, watched his cock as he brushed it against yours, but you’ve never seen both things together. 

Even though his boxers are still halfway down his thighs and his dark robe covers his arms, this is the most naked you’ve ever seen him. Jihoon’s face flushes under the intensity of your gaze, analytical and solid as you just stare. He goes to pull his robe closed, but you stop him with a firm hand to his stomach, thumb brushing over the ridges of his abs. He stills, lets your hands feel him as you brush the robe off his shoulders. He lets it fall, the fabric pooling at his elbows before he shrugs it off. Jihoon’s black robe falls onto the white sheets, such a stark contrast, and it all seems to click into place. This, tonight, is the night it happens.

Both of you seem to have the same idea as you both lean in for a kiss. Your lips meet, and it's immediately hungry; all tongue and teeth, uncoordinated and messy. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him to you, before you roll him over. Jihoon hits the mattress with a small oof, eyes stary and wide at the sudden display of strength. 

You take the opportunity to pull his boxers the rest of the way off, reaching up to grab an unused pillow to put under his ass. You wrap an arm around both of his legs, lifting his hips off the mattress to put the pillow under his ass. Jihoon just stares at you, completely star struck and incredibly horny. You push his knees up to his chest, finally getting a look at the plug inside of him.

It’s a simple metal plug with a large, sapphire blue, heart shaped gem at the base. Your fingers brush over it, and Jihoon stutters out a few incoherent syllables before he can form words. “I, um, sometimes I just like to… Fuck, are we really gonna do this?” He gasps, as you grab a hold of the toy, pulling it ever so slightly out before pushing it back in. 

“If you want to, but I’m so game to fuck you tonight.” You breathe out. Jihoon laughs, though it’s strained. 

“You have such a way with words. No wonder your albums always top the charts.” He jokes, and you take the opportunity to massage his balls to get him to stop talking so that you can focus on preparing him, though it seems he’s done most of the work himself.

“I’m about to top you, too.” You laugh quietly as he moans out. “Bought us a new bottle of lube while I was getting rice.” You kiss his pec as you play with the plug, slowly fucking him with it without taking it out. 

You settle back on your knees, watching the way his hole spasms with each twist of the plug. He’s whiny and desperate, already getting close to being fucked out. You let go of his balls and the plug to reach and grab the lube, taking the opportunity to rid yourself of your pyjama pants and boxers. It’s Jihoon’s turn to stare. 

“Fuck, you’re so…” He trails off. You just smirk before turning your attention back to his ass. You finally give yourself permission to pull the plug all the way out of him, before plunging it back in. There, you get to see the full size of it. 

It’s not the biggest thing in the world, but it’s not small either. It would fill Jihoon’s palm with a significant weight to it. When it slips out, gravity pulls it towards the bed and you have to stiffen your wrist to push it back in. Jihoon moans, hands grasping at the sheets. “Yeah? Care to explain all of this to me angel?” Jihoon flushes deeper, his blush now spreading to his chest. 

“Sometimes I just like to feel full. You weren’t supposed to know.” He hiccups as you keep fucking him with the toy. Jihoon spreads his legs, bringing them down from his chest to stop the slight aching in his knees. You catch a glance at his leaking cock, and pick up your pace only to slow down again. It’s brutal; all your teasing has Jihoon close to tears.

“You can take it, angel.” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face and planting a soft kiss on his lips. He can barely return it.

“If you keep doing this I’ll cum, and I don’t want to yet.” He whines, knuckles turning red as his fingers twist into the sheets. As much as you would love to keep working him up like this, the girth of the plug has prepared him enough. You pull it out, leaning over to set it on the bedside table. Your cock brushes against his thigh, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, completely unaware of how hard you were up until this point. 

You’ve always been far more of a giver in bed, willing to neglect your own needs to make your partners feel good, and it’s no different with Jihoon. What is different is how hard he gets you, how his moans and whines seem to have an effect on you far stronger than anything else. 

“Shit, do you have any condoms?” You ask, once you settle back on your knees.

“Don’t need them. I’m clean, and can’t get pregnant.” He laughs softly.

“Yeah, no, it’s just… I’ve fucked anyone raw before.” You’ve heard from friends that sex without a barrier is mind blowing, and you’re not sure if you can really take that with how worked up Jihoon’s noises make you. 

“First time for everything, right? We don’t have to if you would prefer to wait and just buy condoms.” Jihoon reaches for you, grabbing your bicep and rubbing soft circles on it with his thumb. You shake your head, leaning forward to kiss him as you flip the cap off the bottle of lube.

“I’ve had a lot of firsts with you.” You laugh softly before connecting your lips. Jihoon sighs into the kiss, hand finding its way into your hair and your tongues lap at each other.

You use this opportunity to press on the pump of the bottle, squirting some into your hand to lather your cock. Ever since Jihoon introduced you to this specific type of lube, you’ve never looked back. Thank god for pumps. You bite back a groan as your hand meets your cock, lubing it up well.

You opt to plunge three fingers inside of Jihoon to use up the excess lube on your fingers. Jihoon gasps, clearly not expecting the intrusion so soon. He’s loose enough for your fingers to slide in, but still tight around them. You know he’s going to kill you. 

With lips still locked together, you pull your fingers out after scissoring them a few times. You carefully guide your cock to his entrance, rubbing your tip against his entrance a few times before you break the kiss. “Ready?” You ask, and it’s more for yourself than him. 

“Yeah, just go slow.” He breathes, arms now above his head. You do as he says, slowly prodding his entrance with your tip. You do it a few times, pushing a little further until you finally feel him open up and relax enough for you to push your tip inside. 

Jihoon grabs at the pillows above him, eyelids fluttering shut as he takes deep breaths. You finally get your tip inside, and stall for a few seconds at the warmth of his walls. He’s still so fucking tight, it makes your head spin at the completely new sensation. Once you’re good to go, you push in further. 

Where you’d normally bottom out, Jihoon seems to suck you in further until there’s barely an inch left to go. Jihoon gasps and whines with each inch you push inside him, shifting and squirming in place as he adjusts to the stretch and length. His knuckles are white, stands of his dark hair finding their way inside his grasp. While he can’t seem to form words, he sure is vocal. 

You push the last inch of your cock inside, taking a deep breath as you let both of you adjust. Everyone was right; having sex without protection is a different breed of pleasure. You close your eyes as you focus on your breathing. “Okay,” Jihoon pants, “you can move now.” His voice is shaky, muscles tightening around your cock dangerously.

“Oh, this isn’t for you, angel.” You pant, a strained laugh slipping past your lips. When you open your eyes again, Jihoon is looking up at you, pink lips parted, eyes glazed over with lust, cock leaking against his stomach. 

Jihoon swears quietly as he takes in your face. You wrap your hand around his cock to give him something for the time being, and that’s when you feel it. It’s barely there, at the bottom of his stomach, hidden under the ridges of his abs, but it’s there. 

Your knuckles brush it first, and you take a moment to look down to see if it’s visible. Ever so faintly, his stomach bulges with the intrusion of your cock. You swear, pulling out a few inches before you push back in. Sure enough, the bulge returns when  you push back in. “Fuck, is that your–” Jihoon cuts himself off when you push down on his lower stomach, and you can feel the pressure on your cock. You laugh, aghast at the discovery. You’ve never been able to fit all of your cock inside someone, never been able to see it do that. 

“It is.” You exhale deeply, as you start to slowly pull back out.

“God, you’re so fucking deep.” Jihoon hisses, eyes rolling back as you thrust back in. You brush his hair out of his face affectionately, cooing softly as you start to fuck him. 

Your chosen pace is slow, nearly brutal. You take a second to adjust your position on your knees, and the slight angle change has Jihoon’s back arching as your cock brushes his prostate. He lets out a high-pitched whine, eyes closing when you hold him in place by the hips to continue hitting that spot. It’s foul play, focusing in on his prostate, but you’re not faring much better at how tight and wet he is. 

You pick up speed, balls slapping against his ass with each thrust. Low moans from you and high pitched whines from Jihoon fill the room alongside your laboured breathing. One of his arms falls to cover his face. You catch it before he can hide from you, tsk-ing softly as you keep fucking him. Knowing he won’t win this fight, Jihoon wraps that hand around his cock, jerking himself off in time with each thrust. 

Jihoon’s other arm wraps around your neck, pulling you closer and in for a kiss. He’s hardly able to kiss you, completely fucked out as he just pants against your mouth. It’s too much. His eyelashes are wet with tears, completely overstimulated from two types of stimulation. His nails rake down your back, the soft burn only spurring you on more. Jihoon’s hand stops moving on his cock, and you take the opportunity to put your own hand in its place. 

Something about being in complete control of Jihoon’s pleasure, stimulating him from both perspectives, making him fall apart underneath you; something about it has you picking up speed, head falling into his neck as you start to lick and bite at the pale skin, careful not to leave any marks. 

Jihoon gasps out your name, small tears falling down the sides of his face, before he’s shooting thick white ropes of cum out of his cock. His release coats your hand, hitting his chest and your stomach. He spasms, full body jerking as you fuck him through it, hand still stroking him in time with each thrust. It doesn’t take long for you to get where you need to be. “Where do you want it?” You ask, out of breath, voice low and shaky from holding yourself up.

“Inside.” Jihoon whimpers, nails digging into your back from the prolonged overstimulation. You do as he says, stilling as you cum. Jihoon moans, pulling your hand off his cock. You pull out carefully, pulling away from him to watch your cock slide out. Some of your cum slips out of his ass and you watch it slide down onto the pillow. 

You collapse on the bed beside him, rolling onto your side to face him. Jihoon’s chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his high. You’re doing no better, breathing laboured and sporadic as you fall out of your lust.

The post nut clarity is strong. One minute you're watching Jihoon, brushing his bangs out of his face, gaze on him soft. The next, your whole body feels on fire as an unfamiliar burn in your lungs ignites your whole body on fire. You can’t breathe, and then the tears start.

Jihoon is immediately pulled out of whatever post-orgasm bliss he’s experiencing as your whole body shakes, completely wracked in a violent sob. He rolls over off his back quickly, pulling you to his chest as you cry. There’s no logical reason for your panic, you know this, but then you start thinking and oh god, you can't stop.

Maybe the timing was off; maybe you’d be fine if your parents didn't show up today, if your father did not scrutinize Jihoon right off the bat. Still, you just had sex with another man, and for some reason it freaks you out more than it should. Jihoon just holds you, unsure of what else to do. He lets you cry, because it’s all he can do, and you don’t pull away because you can’t. 

It takes you about five minutes for your breathing to go back to normal. When you finally have a grasp on your surroundings, wherever you are doesn’t feel at all like home. The earth feels far, far away. All you can recognize is the dim glow of the lamp and Jihoon’s chest. You blink a few times, completely exhausted.

Jihoon starts whispering a soft mantra of: It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re safe, I’ve got you. It seems to work in grounding you once you’re able to recognize sound again. While it might not be entirely true that things are okay right now, something in Jihoon’s voice tells you that it will be okay. Maybe in the morning, maybe in a week, maybe sometime in the future; eventually. 

You’ve already been ripped out by the stem, left on the dirt for people to step on. The damage has been done, and there is no going back. The difference between just being left to rot is that you have Jihoon. He’s willing to replant you, care for your damaged roots; he’s willing to care for you, mend your wounds until you’re whole again. All you can do is move forward. 

Your eyes feel heavy with dried tears, head pounding from the incessant crying you just spent the last ten or so minutes doing. You groan softly, giving Jihoon the first sign in ten minutes that you’re alive, aside from your laboured breathing. Immediately, his hand is in your hair, pulling you tighter to his chest as he presses a hesitant kiss to the top of your head. 

You smile weakly against his chest, hand reaching out for him. Jihoon laces your fingers together, squeezing softly in reassurance. 

He rubs soft circles on your back, holding you close until your breathing starts to even out. Jihoon doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, not when you’re like this. The drying lube and cum will leave his sensitive skin irritated and red in the morning, but that’s a problem for later. Right now, you need him here, and there isn’t anything Jihoon wouldn’t do to make you feel safe.

a/n: shits going down. sorry guys but not rlly.

[green-eyedfirework]

“Anyone ever tell you that dragons are possessive, little thief?” Slade asks conversationally, as though he hasn’t got the human pinned under one clawed hand, towering above him with wings flared.  His cave is alight with merrily dancing flames and even with one eye, Slade’s eyesight is good enough to see the way they flicker in the thief’s wide blue eyes.

“I—I wasn’t—I’m not,” the little thief stutters, breaking off with a gasp as Slade presses him flat against the stone.  “I’m sorry!” comes out higher-pitched, “I—I apologize, I didn't mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to steal from a dragon?” Slade finishes helpfully.  Watching the impertinent little shit sneak through his cave had been almost entertaining enough to excuse being woken from a nap.  Especially his squeak when he saw Slade staring straight at him.

The little thief tried to run before Slade’s tail cut him off from the entrance and Slade’s claws trapped him in a cage.

“What were you looking for, anyway?”

“...Dragon scales,” the quiet voice admits hesitantly.

Bold little thief.  Dragon scales are very valuable.  Slade’s seen them used in jewelry and in metal-working and for magic.  It also explains why the little thief ignored the piles of gold and jewels and finery to creep towards the dry, cracking patch of scales on Slade’s back foot.

“And you thought you could waltz right in here and take them, little thief?”

“I’m not—” the human starts before he cuts himself off.  “I’m sorry.  I—I really need those scales.  Please.”

Slade hums consideringly.  This is truly an interesting diversion—and a pretty prize.

Usually Slade’s prey doesn’t wander right into his den, but he’s not complaining.

“What’s your name, little thief?” Slade asks.  Desperation is a good look on him.  His dark hair is ruffled, his skin gleams in the firelight, and those blue eyes shine like sapphires.

The thief swallows before replying and Slade watches his throat bob.  “Dick,” he says, “Dick Grayson.”

“And what would you do in return for my scales?” Slade asks.  Dick’s expression flits to relief as he inhales sharply.  Slade doesn’t let himself grin, not yet.  Lull the little thief into thinking he’ll get what he wants, let him taste the fruits of his greed, and he won’t let go.

“You’ll give them to me?” the thief’s voice cracks with hope.

“I’m sure we can work out a deal,” Slade lets himself show each and every one of his fangs.  The little thief shivers.  “Depends on how badly you want those scales.”

“What’s the deal?” Dick asks bravely.

Slade lowers his head until he’s looking at the little thief from a distance close enough to devour him.  “I’ve been looking for a bedwarmer,” Slade says, voice low and deep, “Satisfy me, little thief, and I’ll give you your scales.”

Dick’s eyes widen to the size of saucers.  He stops breathing, literally, looking up at Slade like he’s expecting Slade to take him like this, and Slade allows himself the chuckle as he shifts forms.  When the transformation ends, Slade’s straddling the little thief, human-sized hands keeping him pinned to the ground.

Dick takes a shaky, trembling breath.  His heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s.  His expression is close to relief, though still too desperate to qualify, and Slade grins.  This form may be smaller but it is by no means small.

“Well?” Slade asks.  It’s been a long time since he’s had some stress relief.

“Alright,” the human’s voice is hoarse, “I agree to the deal.”

“Fantastic,” Slade purrs, leaning over Dick, “Let’s get started.”

~#~

Dick has to fight to not back himself all the way until he tumbles out of the nest he’s been led to.  It’s lined with soft furs and pillows, sinfully decadent, and Dick has never felt more terrified as he edges away from the dragon stalking in.

Slade, he introduced himself, after Dick was able to calm down from the near panic attack of a dragon wanting to fuck him, and even in human form the dragon is nearly twice the size of him.  Silver hair, a dark eyepatch, a dark orange-and-black scaled suit that ripples above his skin.

Dick’s gaze wanders to his crotch, and he swallows thickly.  The bulge is…large.

“Here, little thief.”  The dragon tosses something at him and Dick nearly fumbles the catch.  “Prepare yourself.”

It’s a bottle of oil.  Dick stares at it, heart thundering in his ears.  He can’t believe this is happening.  But he needs those scales, and this is the only way.

“Or do you want me to do it for you?”  Dick snaps his gaze up and Slade’s grin is wicked as he flexes a claw-tipped hand.  Dick can’t entirely suppress the shudder as he sits up hastily and gets to removing his clothes.  He doesn’t want those claws anywhere near him, human-sized or not.

He can still feel the crushing weight on his chest, the surging terror when he realized he was caught, he failed, the dragon had him and wasn’t going to let him go—

“A better prize than I imagined,” the dragon says, low and heated and Dick looks up from the pile of his clothes to see Slade eyeing his naked body like it’s something to be devoured.  He shivers, and Slade’s gaze grows more intense.

[aingeal98]

Steph for the ask game?

three facts about them from my personal headcanons

-The first woman Steph was ever attracted to was Zatanna. She didn't realise this until later on when she was dating Cass and it clicked that it hadn't just been platonic girl crush appreciation

-She did actually die. The body they put in the ground was actually Steph. Due to reality warping from various villains she ended up in Africa with Leslie who admitted that she hadn't actually let Steph die but tried everything and saw her bleed out regardless. They were both highly confused how she was alive again and they never did fully confirm why.

-She has all the autopsy scars and long lasting damage from Black Mask's torture. She used to play the piano but when she came back her fingers didn't stretch the way they used to and the first time she tried it gave her a panic attack.

a reason they suck

They were created and written by Chuck Dixon, which often meant being a part of his shitty conservative propaganda. She was more of a victim than a perpetrator most of the time, but I'd love to have modern Steph reflect on that and be like "Damn that internalized misogyny was kicking my ass sometimes huh."

a reason they are great

What if the entire narrative was stacked against you, what if your writers and editors looked down on you for being a teenage girl and treated you as nothing more than a pawn in their shitty sexist manpain stories. And what if you survived and triumphed and became loved enough to carve your own narrative. What if people have come and gone from the "family" that once excluded you maliciously but you're still here and kicking, a core part of it now. They put you in the Robin uniform as a consolation prize before killing you but you're still here and you're clawing your part in that history with everything you've got. For everyone that'll say Damian is the fourth Robin there's someone who'll reply "Actually that was Stephanie Brown."

a reason I relate to them

Being an isolated teenage girl who feels a deep anger at the injustice of the world and doesn't quite have anywhere to fit in or fully vent that anger? I was literally two bad days away from going out on the street to fight crime when I was a teen. I tend to relate to Cass more because the specific mentality and issues she have resonate strongly, but Steph also has plenty of material for me to dig into.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character

Stephcass. It's gotta be stephcass. I could give a million reasons but I've yelled about this so much on my blog already. They bounce off each other so well, they've got the backstory and angst and complex dynamic while also being funny and cute together. The accidental romantic narrative they created is so damn good it barely needs anything to canonize it at this point.

five things that never happened to that character that I believe should have happened

A proper go at being Robin. An apology from Bruce. A discussion with Tim about what they did wrong and an apology too. A long talk with Cass after she came back from the dead with (you guessed it) an apology from Cass. Getting to talk to preboot Jason about what it means to be a sacrificial lamb to give Batman manpain and hype Tim up as the perfect Robin.

five people that character never fell in love with and why

-Dean. Even if she hadn't gotten pregnant it would have never worked out. He was simply too old and for all Steph hates herself she would have realized it eventually

-Detective Gage, for exactly the same reasons as Dean.

-Jason. He died before she came along and by the time he came back it would never cross either of their minds to be anything but purely platonic. They can bond but neither of them appeal to the other romantically.

-Kyle Mizoguchi. He's sweet and they could be something but unfortunately she's in love with Cass at this point. Like the entirety of Batgirls is just Steph and Cass being in love and not realizing it. Kyle had the wrong timing.

-Dick Grayson. The hypothetical age difference isn't a problem for Steph. But obviously, it's an issue for Dick. If she were ever to fall in love with him in an alternate universe and confess he'd be highly alarmed to find out why she thought things were possible between them. It might actually be nice for Steph to get an understanding ear and a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her that it's not her fault and those men were wrong, but that's all. For one thing Dick is not a scumbag who creeps on young girls and for another thing that's his little brother's ex. In no universe could this ever be more than a one sided crush.

[thelaughtercafe]

Angel

Tea Type: Half and Half (This one was written to vent so it's got a little more hurt towards the beginning than usual)

Potential Triggers: Nonspecific mentions of emotional abuse

Pairing: Duncan/ F!Reader

Length: 1k+

Summary: You and Duncan are both desperately trying to stay awake for the challenge. The lack of filter allows confessions to slip from both of you.

“Ugh I’m starting to go. Can you help keep me awake?”

Duncan looked over and blinked in surprise. You hadn’t spoken much the past weeks save him teasing as he did with most of the girls. You didn’t outwardly encourage it but he could admit he got pleasure out of your flustered reactions to keep it up consistently with no provocation. 

A smirk twitched onto his lips as he moved to where you were sat leaning against a tree trunk a little ways from the main group. 

“Sure thing sweetheart. Tell me what I can do.”

You were already a blushing mess. It’d taken a great deal of courage to even ask but already you were growing meek again.  

“Well I…um…sorry.”

He softened a little after a glance over his shoulder, tugging you to sit behind the tree with him. Everyone was mostly sleeping and this way no-one would see his expressions before he heard them coming in advance. He didn’t want anyone hearing him like this. Hell, he typically wouldn’t ever dream of being like this but the lack of sleep was impairing his judgment. 

“Why do you do that? You constantly apologize for stuff that’s not even your fault. Or without having even done anything wrong at all. It makes you look weak.”

It wasn’t the nicest way to say it maybe but Duncan was trying. 

You looked down to your fidgeting hands and smiled bitterly.

“It’s not exactly a happy reason; but you don’t seem like the kind of guy to pity people so I guess it’s alright if I tell you. Let’s just say my home life wasn’t great. My mom was sick so I was left to do all the chores and such. Her long term boyfriend was quick to put me down and point out the smallest of inadequacies in my efforts.”

You shrugged before looking at the camera across the way and giving it the finger. 

“That’s for you if you’re watching this, dick.”

God, you really were tired. Your filter was gone. Luckily, your attention was shifted to Duncan as he smiled at you and lightly placed his hand on yours.  

“Well I say he’s lucky. If it was me I would’ve stopped doing them altogether. Guy sounds like a real piece of work." 

You turned your gaze to his and he noticed the hint of sadness within. 

"Which is why you’re the strongest person I know. That’s actually the first time I told him to fuck off. After making me spiral into panic attacks, giving me arachnophobia, and making me hate myself it still took me being on the verge of passing out on a reality show talking with a bad boy with a heart of gold to get the courage. Pathetic. isn’t it?" 

Duncan clenched his fists but managed his anger with a breath, trying not to blush at your honesty. 

"Right. You really think of me like that sweetheart?’

The typically antagonistic nickname now sounded sweet. 

You shrugged, finding it much easier to talk when not looking at him as you put your head on his shoulder. 

”‘Course I do. You may act all mean but you want us to win too. I don’t think you’re half as cruel as you pretend to be. You’re here comforting me and keeping me awake aren’t you?“

You yawned and he scoffed, glad you couldn’t see his face as a tinge of pink surely was evident. 

"Could just be doing it to get further in the competition. More chance our team wins if there’s two of us.”

You shrugged. 

“Sure. You could be. But I doubt it. I have a bad habit of only seeing the good in people and ignoring my gut feelings. But here on the island I’ve learned to start listening to it more. And right now it’s telling me you’re a good guy. It always has.”

Duncan sighed and looked down in amusement at you now fully cuddled into his side. He curled an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer but when he felt your breaths start to slow he ran his fingers along your neck for a moment in warning. 

“Hey. Don’t fall asleep k?”

You jerked in his grip and giggled which made him blink.  

Huh. 

He noted the way you suddenly looked nervous, and the way your face had gone red. In addition to your eyes flicking everywhere looking for escape, a smug smirk crawled across his face. 

“Oh princess~ Got something you wanna tell me?”

He felt you stiffen and you giggled nervously again, clearly jumpy. 

God you were precious. 

“N-No! I just-I-thanks for helping but I-”

As you were about to scramble away he quickly turned to pin you against the tree, easily restraining your wrists over your head with one hand and leering over you.  

“You may as well give it up. I know you’re ticklish. Sure would be a shame if I let you fall asleep now ya know? Time to fulfill your duty to the team like the angel you are~”

Oh God. Time to pretend he didn’t just say that last part. Distract!

“D-Did you just-hey whahahahait!! Duncan!!”

You dissolved into squeals and giggles as his free hand began squeezing along your thighs suddenly regretting wearing shorts.

“You are such a jheheheherk!!”

Glad his moment of softness had been forgotten Duncan easily returned to teasing, feigning innocence.

“Oh? But I thought you were so sure I was a nice guy. Looks like your feelings were wrong. Good thing you have a thing for bad boys huh angel?”

He relished in the way you went even darker and sputtered over your laughter.

“N-No I-what!? That’s-crazy talk!”

“Your blush tells a different story. Plus, I’ve caught you stealing glances all summer. Lucky for you I like good girls just as much. Even called dibs in the boys cabin. Trent almost beat me to you but lucky for me he got more into Gwen around the same time which means you’re all mine if you want to be, angel.”

While he was talking casually his hands were moving easily all over, from your thighs to your hips up to your underarms and then to your neck where he opted to stay, keeping you in steady giggles as he waited for your response. 

You rolled your eyes before smirking back. 

“F-Fhihihine then. Gonna make me fhahahall demon boy?”

He grinned, full of roguish charm as his fingers finally slowed and he released your hands to cup your face in his palms and then seal your promise. 

“Only if you’re sure you’re ready for it sweetheart.”

No-one would find out until a few competitions later; when he got sick of hiding and kissed you so hard you swooned after a win you somehow managed to pull off. 

All insecure thoughts of him caring more about his bad boy image than you were  banished and it suddenly made sense to Courtney and Gwen why the nicknames, however passive aggressive, had stopped. They were all for you.  

Angel was still his favorite of course.

[puddingcatbeans]

tim drops a glass and spirals.

Tim is just trying to drink some water. Hydrate or die-drate, as Steph has taken to reminding him. But he must have moved too fast, or his lack of sleep must have caught up to him, because the next thing he knew, the glass had slipped out of his hands and smashed into pieces on the kitchen tiles.

Tim hears the sound as if there was an audio delay. A ringing had started in his ears, but nothing is louder than the sudden pounding of his heartbeat. He keeps hearing the echo of the glass smashing, and something in him is screaming useless apologies. It takes him a moment to realize he's having trouble breathing.

Oh, he thinks. I'm having a panic attack.

Out the corner of his eye, he sees Kon rush into the kitchen. He was choosing a movie, Tim recalls absently. He always takes too long flipping through the categories, only to make Tim choose in the end.

"Rob? Hey," Kon is saying. He has his hands outstretched, but he stops an arm's length away.

Tim's fingers are clenched tight around the edge of the counter. He unlatches one, reaching out. When Kon steps forwards again, Tim clutches at Kon's shirt, right over his heart. He tries to copy Kon's breathing. Kon, the lovely specimen that he is, takes exaggerated breaths and counts aloud for him. They're doing one of the grounding exercises from training -- because PTSD is practically a requirement for capes by this point.

It's not working.

Tim gasps, head low and tears in his eyes. "B," he says. "I can't--"

"Okay, okay," Kon says. "Hold on."

When he makes to step away, Tim grasps his shirt tighter. He knows it's not rational, Kon's probably just trying to get his phone, but he can't make himself let go. He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to get his breathing under control.

Distantly, he hears Kon's voice. "Mr. Wayne," Kon says, in the voice he uses when he's nervous but trying to hide it. "Sorry to bother you, but uh. How fast can you make it to Tim's apartment? Or I can fly him to you, if it's faster."

Tim stares at the glass pieces by his foot. They're kind of pretty. Like ruined things are, something you can never take back, only sit alone in a too-big mansion wondering where you went wrong.

"He's here, he's fine--um, physically fine. He's having a panic attack, I think, and uh--I think he'd like to see you--Oh, fifteen minutes, okay..."

He doesn't know how long he stands there, Kon's TTK holding him up. Then Bruce is there, and Kon is easing his fingers off his shirt.

Bruce is dressed in an immaculate suit, the kind he wears for the office. His face, though, was all Batman. Tim can't stop the flinch when he meets those stern eyes. They soften immediately.

"Tim," Bruce says, and Tim sucks in a breath. Bruce doesn't have a nickname for him, but like chum for Dick, or Jaylad, or how he calls Damian son. But Bruce will call his name like this sometimes, quiet, warm. Something that Tim holds carefully in the corner of his mind.

"B," Tim manages. He rips his hand off the counter. It hurts his nails. His legs are shaking.

"I'm right here," Bruce says, and it's not fair how easily he projects calm and commands all of Tim's attention. He holds out a hand, keeping eye contact. "I'm not going anywhere. Conner's in the other room. You're safe."

"I know," Tim says. He gulps in more air. Forces himself to hold it, breathe out. Without meaning to, his hand finds Bruce's. He holds it in a deathgrip. Bruce doesn't complain. "I just. I dropped the glass."

Bruce nods. He barely casts a glance over to the wreckage. "It's okay. We can clean it up later. No one is hurt."

"I didn't mean to," whispers Tim.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

"Okay."

Bruce squeezes Tim's hand. "Would you like Conner to sit with you while I clean up the glass, or would you like me to sit with you?"

Tim reaches up to wipe at his eyes. "I can... I should clean it up. It's my mess."

"That's not one of the options, Tim."

"... You."

"Okay," says Bruce. He leads them both into the living room. Kon takes one look at them and disappears back into the kitchen.

They sit on the couch. Feeling exhausted and wrung-dry, Tim leans into Bruce's shoulder. His solidness is familiar. Safe. There's a part of Tim that is still cowering on the kitchen floor, bleeding and shivering at the memory of sharp nails and sharper reprimands. But he's miles away from the lonely ten year old who thought love was something to be earned. He's better now.

By the time Conner returns, perching awkwardly in the armchair, Bruce has put on a documentary. It's about the desert. Tim sinks further into the couch. He breathes.

[helliskylux]

Okay Naruto and Sasuke has officially broken me in terms of MLM ships. I keep forgetting that Naruto is a motherfucking outlier and not the base model.

WELL it may not look like it, but SNS is not even my OTP in naruto. I'm a sasuke-did-nothing-wrong-he-has-nothing-to-apologize through and and through. I recognize that sasuke and naruto are both right and wrong at the same time. A polarizing extremes of ideas. In an idealized story, they would have met in the middle and we should not have to sacrifice all of Sasuke's development just so we can get the "idealized" ending. (which, given boruto's state right now, makes it even more obvious that Sasuke's revolution was need) BUT BUT BUT THIS PARAGRAPH SHOULD BE A STORY FOR ANOTHER SO SHUT THE FUCK UP JEN.

Okay so I do ship sns but it's not my end all be all. BUT BUT BUT even with the above, i still recognize that at the end of the day at least Sasuke still has Naruto despite it all. I mean sure he has Sakura and Sarada. But Naruto tried to understand him. The end game given to him was awful in my honest opinion, but at the very least my point is even I didn't agree with the ending given to him. At least the guy who spent 6 months with him as "friends" and then 4 years chasing him around, has given him as much love and devotion as a shounen series is allowed???

There was something deeply unsatisfying with the Naruto ending. (filled with hypocrisy and back tracking in terms of a lot of people's development) and it stayed me. So I was kinda done with shounen you know.

but boredom is a sin and I watch jjk with bf and even if I was aware of the fandom and sugusato. And yes the bond that they had was amazing and deep. But I just couldn't be on board with it. It wasn't a ride or die situation, you know. So yeah I do like to throw my favorite characters on the nearest dick but no actual TRUE otp you know.

I found myself "You know if Gojo was just given a mere 10% of Naruto's simping powers towards Sasuke for Geto, we wouldn't be here at all."

And damn that got me thinking. It's just that Naruto is just so absolutely FUCKING UNHINGED AND OBSESSED WITH SASUKE UCHIHA. Man had panic attacks of the thought of him dying. HE POSTPONED HIS DREAMS FOR HIM.

Like of course all other shounen mlm ships would look subpar if you compare it to him. LOOK AT HIM. >_> jeez. He's embarrassing.

Like the only ones I can compare naruto to are danmei couples but those are CANON ships. JEEZ. Naruto. look at you. Look at yourself

Naruto and Sasuke can never escape these gay allegations.

ETA: Okay so this was brought on, because I read about Yuji and Megumi mirroring Gojo and Geto. But I was trying to dig. (Because I ship because I'm a dog and it's hot, but I don't ship it ship it??? like I'm not emotionally invested in it. BUT boy oh boy the 263 came out and I was like. "Oh yeah I get it." But then I was comparing it to SNS again. AND I had to fucking hit myself. BECAUSE OF COURSE Yuji itadori is not as feral as Naruto as to Sasuke.

[softpine]

behind the scenes 🎬 - compilation

[read the post] + answered questions: [elaine’s trauma] // [elaine’s flaws]

this is one of the first major instances we’ve seen of elaine choosing to keep the peace by not bringing up something that upset her (stevie lying). she’s unsure who is right or wrong, so she’d rather just smooth it over and stop talking about it. we’ll see elaine do this again with austin immediately after this, so it’s becoming a pattern for her.

i wanted this scene to have a melancholy, sleepy, small town feeling, so i thought a church would be a great backdrop. i spent literally hours decorating the church (i gave it a whole kids playground in the back, and a corn field on the other side), but then you only ended up seeing it for one picture lmao. i even had to change the lot size so i could put her car on the road more easily. anyway, there’s this sign out front:

i chose this quote because, to me, it’s a very unhelpful way to look at life: to disregard your own problems because someone has had it worse. like... no, maybe you’re not suffering as much as jesus, but that doesn’t mean you’re not suffering at all. we can see that elaine is choosing to hide her emotions because everyone around her is going through “worse” shit.

tiny thing, but when elaine is about to cry as stevie is walking away, there’s a poster right behind her that says “Don’t let depression keep you down” :)

[read the post] + answered questions: [xena’s dad?] // [why did coco get so mad?]

i learned how to use premiere for this one! it was really simple once i learned the basics. all i had to do was turn the TV into a green screen and then the rest of the editing was fun color grading stuff.

the clip from Xena: Warrior Princess is meant to apply to coco specifically. but i can’t tell you why yet!

“See how calm the surface of the water is? That was me once. And then... [throws rock] The water ripples and churns. That’s what I became.” // “But if we sit here long enough, it’d go back to being still again. It’d go back to being calm.” // “But the stone’s still under there. It’s now part of the lake. It might look as it did before, but it’s forever changed.”

since i had to rewrite some things and i don’t think it will come up later, i’ll just tell you why coco thought she could trust tom in the first place: she takes a business class with him and she thinks the answers he gives during lectures are insightful. she knew tom recognized her from porn, but he never acted like a dick about it, so this was actually a bonus for her. she thought she could use it to her advantage – who wouldn’t want to do a favor for their favorite porn star? lol. she's also noticed him at the sports bar she works at, and he's never caused any problems. he even tends to keep his friends in check when they’re getting too rowdy over a game. overall, she thought he was a pretty decent guy, but unfortunately he ruined that :/

casper has a pill bottle on his desk. you can’t see the label, but it’s xanax. he takes it when he’s actively having a panic attack. that’s pretty much the only thing he’s doing for his mental health at the moment.

[read the post] + answered questions: [was austin’s mom home?] // [suicide tw]

when the scene opens, elaine is rehearsing her apology to austin in the mirror. you could interpret this many ways, but my intention was to show that it doesn’t matter how elaine truly feels about the situation or who was right / wrong, she just wants the fight to be over. in contrast, austin has been giving it deep thought.

truthfully, elaine didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart about her feelings. she’s flattered that austin opened up to her like that, but she doesn’t actually respond to anything he wrote in his letter – she doesn’t talk about marriage or kids or the future, she just kisses him and talks about the immediate future (the dance tomorrow). the interesting thing is that even though austin talking about his feelings is like pulling teeth, he opens up to elaine far more often than she expects him to. he thinks this is what she wants from him, but she’s never actually said that.

okay, so, the gun! it’s the second time we’ve seen it now, the first time being when austin’s grandpa pointed it at elaine’s head in a state of confusion. i wouldn’t blame elaine for being scared of it, even though austin told her it’s fake, but instead elaine has no fear in picking it up and looking at it more closely. she only gets scared when she hears austin coming home. all i can really say in addition is that the gun's placement on the dresser was deliberate, as was the polaroid of austin & elaine being underneath it (in fact, that wasn’t in-game at all, i added it in photoshop).

[read the post] + answered questions: [how many times has jada predicted her mom’s death?] // [sylvia?] // [past/present comparisons]

something i find heartbreaking is that jada has completely warped her memory of her mom due to time, trauma, and guilt. she hardly ever remembers happy memories unrelated to aileen’s death. but instead of feeling any negative emotions for her mom (even if they would be warranted) she directs them all inward. we’ve seen this in her nightmares, where she imagines aileen to be a cruel representation of her own guilt. in this flashback, we see that aileen is concerned, but doesn’t believe that jada’s visions are real, and she even calls her claims “ridiculous” after knowing that at least one of them has come true. jada wanted to lighten her guilt by sharing this knowledge with someone else, but it only made her feel worse when she wasn’t believed. years later, jada still puts none of the blame on her mom and all of the blame on herself.

we have no way of knowing how much aileen really knew. she may have dismissed jada’s claims out loud in an attempt to protect her, while secretly believing her (or at least partially believing her). you can tell that something has shifted in her perception after she hears how the ride operator died, but she tries to use logic to assuage jada’s guilt – and perhaps, her own guilt as well. we know that in death, aileen will repeat “I don’t feel good! Will you take me to the hospital?” – something jada originally said, not aileen. it’s a too-late warning, a constant reminder that she didn’t listen to her daughter and it cost her her life. if jada got her tendency to worry from her dad, she got her guilt from her mom.

[read the post] + answered questions: [who did jada condemn?] // [alisa’s abilities]

i’ve said almost everything i wanted to say about this one, but i do want to expand on why alisa reacted so strongly in this situation. at first, it seems that she’s deeply offended by the insinuation that she would give someone bad advice just to cause chaos. however, it becomes clear that alisa is more offended by jada’s hypocrisy. sure, alisa herself will admit that she does unethical things with her abilities, but jada has killed people with her abilities. except... does alisa actually judge her for this? or does she simply know it will get under jada’s skin? she finishes their conversation by saying “Don’t, for one second, think you’re better than me.” but she doesn’t argue that SHE is the better person. instead, she says, “We’re no different, you and I.”

but i’m not going to tell you how alisa feels, whether she’s being genuine, or if she really does care about jada – i want you to draw your own conclusions :P

[televisionenjoyer]

GIRL okay wait listen I know you're mad but he's like a sopping wet golden retriever and I think he might honestly kill himself. And I mean he apologized for it and his dick is ten inches throbbing and he has anxiety and panic attacks I rlly don’t think it was on purpose

[otisbdriftwood-injail]

i mean he apologized for it and his dick is ten and a half inches throbbing and he has anxiety and panic attacks and i want him to fuck me i really don’t think it was on purpose

[coldasyou]

i mean he apologized for it and his dick is ten inches throbbing and he has anxiety and panic attacks and i want him to fuck me i really don’t think it was on purpose

[vadergf]

i mean he apologized for it (he didnt) and his dick is ten inches throbbing and he has anxiety and panic attacks and i want him to fuck me i really don’t think it was on purpose