#if anyone wants to discuss any of this PLEASE hit me up

[tiarathief]

knight squad: if we had a 4 season run

i��ve been thinking a lot of thoughts about how amazing knight squad would have been with a proper four season run. i don’t think i would ever have the energy to write a full fanfic, but it’s been five years since the show’s conclusion, so i wanted to share some of my ideas. here’s a 2k outline on how i think the plot could have gone:

season 1

season 1 is already pretty god-tier in my opinion, so i wouldn’t change much! i think they covered a lot in terms of character and relationship development, and did a great job building an interesting plot that tied back in the finale.

one of the things i would change though is the whole presentation of ciara/princess, and how it’s done through her hair. i’ve seen some discussion about it floating around before, so some of y’all probably know where i’m getting at with this. i don’t know if it was intentional, but the implications of her straightened/relaxed hair being part of what makes her elegant is really questionable  to me and i do find it racist. i do like her loose curls for ciara because being ciara is when she gets to let loose and be who she really is. but for the princess, i think they really could have done another style like braids, or have her hair tied up in a bun to represent how she is holding herself back, or have her hair wrapped. i also think they could have incorporated other ways to show the difference between the princess and ciara that don’t rely on hair – facial markings/face paint for the royal family, or the princess covers her face with a face veil.

also just. give her a name!!! for the fanfic writers if not for anyone else. i know it’s a kid’s show and they probably didn’t want to make it too confusing or something, but also kids are not that dumb.

in terms of character, in the show, arc adapts to being part of a team really well. personally, i would have drawn that out, and had a plot where arc needs to get used to being on a team after being a lone wolf for so long and learning how to trust the others to have his back. i think the writers almost went in that direction, because in the pilot when the phoenix squad is assigned to fight the stone knight, arc tells them to step back and says he has it, and ciara says “but we’re supposed to be a team!” but he ignores her. and it works out okay that time, but i expected it to come back later and it was just dropped. so this is something i would have developed over the course of the season, and then everyone coming together to save him from ryker in the season finale being the culmination of him realizing he has people to watch his back now and he isn’t alone.

season 2

okay so you know how i kept most of season 1? yeah we’re doing the opposite for season 2. we’re throwing pretty much all of it out. yEET. prudy and warwick are not going to find out right at the beginning of the season, we’re not getting the ciara and sage relationship development quite yet, no one is getting knighted, and there’s no weird superhero episode with trolls that are   antisemitic caricatures.

however, there will be more plots centered around prudy and warwick. we get to see more of prudy’s giant background, and warwick struggling to live up to his family name and what being a magical wizard means. so there are episodes like the election episode and the one with warwick’s dad.

at the same time, we get more of the relationships in the phoenix squad, and arc and ciara will also start to realize how hard it is keeping their secrets from their best friends. they have some really close calls when it comes to balancing their secrets with their friendships.

arc and ciara also start having some romantic development in the latter half of the season, but it happens subtly. like people thinking they’re a couple leading to awkward denial, seeing the other dressed up for an event and having that “whoa” moment, being unusually jealous or protective, etc.

okay i really want an episode where there’s just a shit ton of miscommunication and the princess accidentally agrees to a date with warwick and he’s over the moon but ciara is panicking because she can’t break his heart while arc’s pretending he isn’t jealous

A TRUTH SPELL EPISODE. sort of combining both of the two big threads this season. arc gets hit by a truth spell by accident and they have to wait for it to wear off and it leads to all sort of chaos as arc and ciara try to make sure their secrets don’t get out so ciara is just covering his mouth and trying to make excuses. and then, at the end of the episode, he’s alone with prudy and warwick who have caught on that arc does have a secret and they’re grilling him, and he blurts out that he has feelings for ciara, which even he didn’t realize until he said it. the spell finally wears off and prudy and warwick are shocked enough to let him go, and he runs off only to bump into ciara (who had been called away for a princess-related thing), and she’s apologizing to him for having to leave him alone and asks if he revealed anything important to anyone, and he’s just like “....no.”

midway through the season, we also begin building up to the next overarching plot. it might be interesting to focus a bit on astorian court politics, which leads to the reveal of an internal conspiracy to take down dragonbloods and take over the throne. (note: the leader of this conspiracy was the one behind ciara’s mother being taken away.) sort of leads to the realization of how messed up it is that only dragonbloods have power in astoria. the season finale has them facing off against this antagonist, and they win, but the antagonist runs away.

warwick and prudy find out about arc and ciara’s secrets at the end of the season!

also sage and buttercup are canon. because this is my plot outline and i say so.

season 3

this season begins with warwick and prudy learning what it means to be secret keepers, even though they’re struggling a bit. arc and ciara and understandably frustrated, but when it matters, warwick and prudy do come through, and they get better about it over time.

warwick and prudy are also trying to figure out their roles on the team, especially as they feel like they’re the weaker links. 

meanwhile, ciara is stepping into her role as the princess and trying to force actual change regarding the dragonblood laws in astoria, having learned from the events of last season.

arc is supporting her, but he’s also starting to feel a bit homesick. we get at least a couple episodes centered around seagate when phoenix squad takes a trip to his hometown which is in the process of rebuilding in the aftermath of ryker. they get caught up in a pirate plot!

they also discover that ryker’s army hasn’t entirely been dissolved, and some of them still hope to bring ryker back. 

arc and ciara starting to have some legit romantic development as they realize their feelings. throw in a fake dating episode because it would be cute. they also kiss at least once during this development period - for quest purposes of course, and it’s “completely platonic” (it isn’t, both feel things). both of them are too scared of ruining their relationship as friends to pursue more though, and they’re worried about how it would affect their team.

prudy and warwick do not think their squad will be affected and are very much rooting for this!!!

ciara also starts becoming friends with sage (although they would never admit it)! bonding as the princess, and respecting her more as a classmate. phoenix squad and kraken squad work together more often.

despite their attempts to prevent it, last season’s antagonist returns and helps bring ryker back. the villains team up, vowing to not just take over astoria, but destroy it. 

the season ends with astoria learning about the danger of ryker coming back and needing more knights, so phoenix squad, kraken squad, and unicorn squad are all knighted. ciara passes her laws against dragonbloods being the only ones allowed to be knights, and their secrets come out to the kingdom.

arc and ciara’s relationship development also reaches the natural conclusion and they officially become a couple after a scare during the final battle where they realize they could have lost each other.

season 4

season four shifts a bit in vibes because all the secrets are out and everyone has officially been knighted, so ideally we would have gotten some fancier new set locations

phoenix squad and kraken squad are officially knighted, but that doesn’t prevent their rivalry. however, this leads to issues, and they quickly realize they’re no longer in training and they genuinely need to have each other’s backs.

arc and ciara are also adjusting to working together while dating. they’re both really protective and keep trying to look out for each other on the battlefield, and it leads to some slip ups at first because they feel like they’re out of sync and maybe they worked better as friends. but they ultimately realize they help make each other better, and fighting together becomes even better because they’ll always have each other’s backs

we bring in the plot with ciara’s mom - eliza comes back with evidence that their mother is still alive and out there. phoenix squad follows up on the lead, and eventually they find her mother and bring her home. however, their mother doesn’t remember anything which is why she never came back even after she escaped her confinement, so they have to find a way to bring her memories back.

but is everything as it seems? ciara is unsure her mother is the same woman she remembers. she catches her mother sneaking out, and she worries that her mother has turned traitor. but it’s revealed that her mother is actually protecting a secret - a dragon egg, for the last dragon in astoria.

pet dragon for the squad!!! it imprints the most on ciara and sage, and they grudgingly co-parent. arc and buttercup are definitely not jealous of their partners spending so much time together (they absolutely are).

slobwick also hates the baby dragon for taking his place as beloved adorable pet. however slobwick is an evil furby and we should not feel bad for him.

fizzwick has begun training as a knight with his own squad! prudy and warwick end up teaching every now and then (as do the others at times, but this is mostly for them), and they are determined to be good role models. however, they have no idea how to keep up with the Kids These Days, and end up learning some things about valuing themselves and their own self-worth.

also, prudence and warwick do get their own romantic plots during this time! whether they stick around or are minor remains the question….

meanwhile, the ryker plot continues to develop, leading to some dramatic, escalating clashes. this time, ciara believes they need to work more with the other five kingdoms. we return to seagate, as well as visit other locations and have other kingdom representatives come to astoria for a summit meeting. there are lots of disagreements, and ends up one kingdom is working against them, their ruler being a puppet who is actually the astorian court official from season 2. at the end of the day, the remaining four realize they must unite to bring peace.

the series conclusion ends with a dramatic final battle working with the other squads and kingdoms as they take down ryker and the other antagonist once and for all, restoring peace. 

close out on phoenix squad, reaffirming their promise to always be there for each other and protect the kingdom as they look forward to the future.

[ecstxsyy]

NO WAY. | D. GRAYSON ❦

Dick wants to stretch you out.

18+ mdni!

dick grayson x fem!reader

warnings: seduction, p in v, unprotected sex, face fucking.

requests for v-day event are closed!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

IT WAS no secret that Dick Grayson was extremely flexible, he is a world-class acrobat after all. Dick’s flexibility and insane sex drive made your sex absolutely wild. Dick bent himself into odd positions to hit angles deep inside that no one else could ever hit, he’d completely ruined you for anyone else.

You did feel bad though. You felt bad that Dick was always the one bent up, but you never realized that he might want to do some of those things to you. It sounded silly, but Dick loved the idea of manhandling you into any crazy position he wanted to. Of course, Dick was too much of a gentleman to actually do it seeing as it was never something the two of you discussed.

That was until today of course, it was Valentine’s Day, and over the past few weeks, you had secretly worked with a trainer to help you work on your flexibility. To Dick, you wanted to make it look like you hadn’t gotten help at all, you just wanted him pressed behind you while you stretched.

Dick’s large hands ran over your hips as you pushed back into him to deepen the stretch as he instructed, the sight in front of him was marveling. You were face down ass up on a yoga mat, your arms stretched out in front of you as you rocked your hips a bit to push the stretch further.

To test the waters, you pushed your hips a bit further until you felt his halfie poke your ass. A smirk found its way to your lips, your stomach fluttering at the way Dick inhales sharply, trying his hardest to stay focused on what he was trying to teach you.

Once you realized your efforts to rile him up were futile, you decided to take it up a notch. With the next stretch, Dick had you stand and begin reaching down toward your toes. As you bent over, you made sure to press your ass into Dick’s crotch, making it look as innocent as possible. As soon as your back touched Dick, his hands moved to your ass to grab a handful of it.

“Baby,” Dick said in a warning tone, he wanted to make sure you got a proper stretch and didn't injure yourself. This made you want him even more, your hips pushing into his one last time.

Before you knew it, you were pinned to the ground, Dick looking down at you with his dark locks hanging in his eyes.

“Y’know if you wanted me right now, you could have just said so,” Dick chuckled, rubbing his erection against your aching heat. You whimpered and bucked your hips into him, trying to get as much friction as possible. This made Dick lift a hand to press your bottom half back to the floor,

“Whoa, not so fast. You need to learn some patience,” Dick teased.

“You and I both know there is no way that will ever happen,” you snorted, Dick simply rolled his eyes and kissed the underside of your jaw. His kisses were always feather-like, so soft and gentle.

What Dick loved more than kissing you, was littering your body full of hickeys. He loved the way it told everyone you were his, that you belonged to him and no one else. He never got jealous, just possessive. Dick sucked on the skin of your neck, red patches blooming beneath your skin that would soon be a deep shape of magenta and purple. You used to complain about them, saying that the two of you weren't high schoolers and it made you look bad, but Dick didn't care. He thought they looked sexy.

Your impatience began to set in and you tugged at the hem of Dick’s shirt, urging him to take it off. Dick obliged quickly, stripping the fabric from his torso before pulling yours off in suit. As soon as your chest was exposed, Dick began sucking hickeys onto your cleavage, he wanted to mark every part of you.

“Dick, please just fuck me,” you whined, usually you loved all the foreplay Dick would give you, but today you were too needy for that. Dick chuckled, sliding your leggings off. He was surprised to see you weren't wearing panties underneath, the sight nearly made him lightheaded.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Dick said in awe, rubbing your clit gently with his thumb. Honestly, Dick loved every part of you. To him, every bit of you was more beautiful than the Sistine Chapel.

Dick suddenly remembered your impatience and decided to not make you wait anymore, he slid his athletic shorts halfway down his thighs just enough to get his cock out and slapped it against your clit.

You wiggled your hips, trying to get even the slightest bit of stimulation from his heavy erection rubbing against your wet clit. Dick teased you for a bit longer before fully sheathing himself inside of you, the fullness he made you feel made your eyes roll back into your skull.

Dick was big, no matter how much you took him, you’d never get used to his size. His cock filled you up nicely, his tip leaving a slight bulge in your belly near your belly button. Dick’s jaw went slack at the sight, his hand finding its way to the small bump the press down. His actions pushed your g-spot into his tip, a flash of white shooting across your vision from pleasure. You were already a moaning mess and he hadn't even truly started yet.

His thrusts started slow and shallow, working his way into you. The more he thrusted, the more your pussy held him comfortably. You fit him like a glove, he swore you were made for him. His thrusts soon evened out, they were slow but firm. The way his hips slammed into you drove you crazy, the way his heavy ball slapped against your ass, begging for attention. You bent yourself to reach down a bit, scooping them up to massage them.

Dick’s breath caught in his throat, his hips stuttering before returning to their consistent pace.

“Well, I see someone got a little extra help,” Dick moaned out, reaching down to use his thumb to rub your clit softly.

“Maybe a little,” you giggled, choking back a moan to respond to him.

The more your hands worked his balls, the faster his pace became. You knew he was close, but Dick refused to cum before you did. He would depraved himself forever if it meant you always got to cum first, he loved making you feel good.

His pace was unrelenting, the sound of skin slapping together and moaning being the only noises coming from your in-home yoga studio. Thankfully, the two of you live alone otherwise you’d be doing some awkward walk of shames for a while.

Dick’s tip bullied into your cervix, the feeling of all of it becoming overstimulating very fast. You didn't think it could get any better until Dick grabbed both of your legs by the backs of your knees, pressing them both by each side of your head. This new angle sent you spiraling immediately, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You cried out loudly, chanting his name like it was the only word you knew.

Dick fucked you through your orgasm, letting you come down before slipping his cock out of you.

“Open wide,” said Dick smugly.

Your mouth fell open immediately, following his orders like they were hard-wired into your brain. Your orgasm making you his sweet obedient girl, ready to take any command he gives you. You sucked his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

You could feel every vein and muscle in his cock, he was painfully hard and you could tell how badly he wanted to cum. Your hand instinctively went to his balls, playing with them while you bobbed your head up and down. But, this wasn't enough for Dick. He grabbed the back of your head to hold you in place, thrusting his throbbing cock down your throat. You relaxed into his hold, hs length triggering your gag reflex every now and then.

With a few more thrusts, Dick was shooting his load down your throat in thick spurts. His cum was warm in your mouth and you wasted zero time swallowing it, sticking your tongue out to show Dick that you took all of it. He smiled and caressed your cheek,

“Such a good girl for me.”

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅

synopsis: (Matt x Reader x Fem!OC) where Matt wants to help satisfy you with some help.

warnings: SMUT, threesome, pussy munchin, unprotected sex, bisexual fantasies

ʚ with love and big tits, Rose ɞ

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Matt’s heart hurt watching you shrink into yourself. Your group of girl friends were more than supportive when you came out. A lot of them were part of the community themselves. 

“NO, SAME! Eating a girls pussy really is fuckin’ amazing, man.” 

Your attentive boyfriend sees your face blank with a dissociative look. 

He knows. 

He knows you feel left out. He can see the tortured look behind your eyes. But, he also knew you loved him and you’d never cheat on him. In fact, he even knew you would never even admit to wanting something—something he couldn’t give you—in fear of hurting him. 

That’s why when the group of girls left, he had sat you down on your shared bed for a conversation. 

“Baby, talk to me. I can tell something is wrong, let me help you.�� he encouraged.

You were dismissive and unresponsive as he tried to push the truth out of you. He never needed anyone else to bring life into the bedroom with you, but seeing the longing on your face as you listened to your friend’s experiences changed that. 

“Listen….I’m so proud of you for coming out, baby—I really am. But….I can see that you want more—”

“No! I want you, I—”

“I know, I know, you’re never losing me. Don’t worry about that—I just, just listen, okay?”

You heard him loud and clear as he suggested the idea to you. 

A threesome.

He told you to pick out the girl. There was no part of him that cared for the woman besides if she could please you. But, you were already overwhelmed—you were shocked at the idea and your brain wanted no part in seeking the third member. 

Matt has always been stepping up and helping you out. This was no different. He took all your boundaries into consideration while looking around. Rachel, your best friend, had even received a phone call from him, with your permission of course. 

Learning any information he could from her, he found the girl. It was one of Rachel’s other friends, a girl you had both met briefly at the club and really hit off with. However, she was never in town too often. 

But, Matt didn’t see that as a problem. 

Discussing boundaries and relaying the information to her was easy. The girl was respectful and mindful as she talked to Matt. 

“I….I’m just gonna be blunt with the boundaries if that’s okay….” Matt trails off, slightly unsure as he bites his tongue. 

“Hit me, Matt. I’m down and it will honestly be better to know everything crystal clear.” Avery remarks. 

So, he did just that. He explained every boundary, repeating words when lost in translation.

Which all led to now. 

The night had started off with a couple of drinks to loosen up as well as a high tension. With each sip, the tension faded to an aura of excitement.

Now, you were laying on your’s and Matt’s bed. Your head rested on Matt’s thigh as he brushed your hair out of your face. He watched hungrily at your face contort into pleasure with each nibble Avery left on your skin. 

“That feels good, baby huh?” he perks. 

You nod, your head throwing back further as Avery gently clamps her teeth around your nipple, massaging the other one between her fingers. 

Your body rolls between the two. Matt’s attentive pats and her warm mouth make your cunt throb. Nude skin all touching and brushing together drives you insane. The only remaining clothing left on was Matt’s briefs. 

Avery’s kisses trail up as she pins your wrists down on Matt’s thighs on either side of your head. You get a quick glimpse of Matt’s intense eyes analyzing your expression before shutting them to embrace the feeling of her lips crashing against your own. 

Her lips are passionate, slow and sultry. Each motion leaves your gut fiening for relief. She scoots further up, kneeling one leg up and brushes the top of her thigh against your pussy. You break the kiss with a shriveled moan. 

Avery laughs against your skin as she trails downward with her mouth, wet and sloppy kisses reaching down to your navel. Peeping open your scrunched eyes, you see Matt watching her hands as they slide up between your legs. 

Gentle and softly, she spreads your wet heat to expose the hood of your clit. Toying with the sensitive bud, you let out a shriek. Your knees clutch inward, being stopped by her shoulders. 

“God,” she laughs, amused at your reactiveness. “---you’re so sensitive, baby.” 

You squirm as Matt soothes his hands on top of your arms, comforting you as Avery spits a large wad of salvia down your cunt. A light slap to your pussy makes you jolt and let out a cry. Avery laughs out, pushing her fingers hard around your clit to tease you. You can feel the liquid seeping out from your hole from the tense fever waving over you. 

Repeating the action, you squeak and let out a strangled cry. She pins your hips down harshly, biting onto the top of your thigh. 

“Play nice, Avery.” Matt warns. 

They had gone over boundaries. A simple ‘no’ or ‘stop’ would elicit the end of all wandering hands. He was stern, but he wasn’t upset. 

He just wanted you to feel good. 

And he was able to tease you like how she was—-you didn’t need Avery for that. 

“Jealous? C’mon, look,” she rubs slowly onto your clit. Your hands grab onto each of Matt’s knees as your mouth draws in a wide circle. “---she’s such a fun toy. Could play with her all day, yeah?” she teases, licking a stripe up your thigh with her fingers circling around your pulsating nerves. 

Matt licks his tongue over the bottoms of his teeth. He’s not jealous because he fears she’ll make you feel good—he’s jealous because he wants to be the one doing it. He wants your pretty moans and tight cunt to be plundering whimpers and whines to him. 

As Avery lets her hot breath fan over your wet folds, you shiver in delight. She teasingly prods her tongue through your slick, her lips curling as you whine. Looking upward, she sees Matt watching her intently as he continues caressing his hands up and down your arms. 

“Go ahead.” he grits, a slight pride overcoming him as she waits for his permission to dive through your pussy hungrily. 

It was all part of the deal. You were his—-she had to get permission from him before doing anything to you. She knew she had limitations, and honestly—she was more than willing to compromise—even more so as she licked through your cunt. 

She teases you with a light pressure, prying your thighs apart and letting her manicured nails dig into the soft flesh. Shaking her head back and forth, she lets her tongue roam and wander, smoothing over your pussy and taking notes of where her mouth suctions that makes your moans louder and higher in pitch. 

Matt can’t help it. His cock strains in his briefs, poking the side of your head as you become consumed by pleasure. You already looked so fucked out and they’ve barely even started. He imagines how warm and wet your pussy is gonna feel around him as you rock your hips in Avery’s face. 

Watching you feel so good makes him feel good. 

“C’mon, baby. Doing so good for us, so good.” he praises.

Avery feels you clench around her tongue as she presses her nose to your clit. Matt hesitantly wanders his hands down, grazing lightly over your hot skin. 

You jump at the suction of Avery’s lips around your clit, her teeth resting to prod at the sensitive bud lightly as she sucks hard. Matt stops his finger along your tits, his fingers swirling and pinching delicately on your nipples. 

It all feels so good. Attention from both sides drives you insane. Your legs tense around Avery, quivering as you let out a screech. The pit of your gut clenches as your entire body shivers from the white, hot bliss. 

“That’s it, good girl.” Matt praises. 

You gasp for air as Avery lifts herself from between your legs. She wipes her mouth, smirking devilishly at Matt. 

“You gonna fuck her or what?” she taunts. 

Matt knows she’s pushing his buttons on purpose. Avery had expressed how she was dying to see your face as he pounded into you. But, despite that—it was working. 

“Baby, can she sit on your face, hm?” Matt asks, ignoring Avery as he stares down at you softly. 

Blissed out, you nod. Your hips are still swiveling the bed from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Avery and Matt switch, her legs straddling on either side of your face. Matt adjusts the pillows behind your head, brushing the slightly damp hairs out of your face. 

Turning to Avery, he gives a harsh glare. “Don’t hurt her, I’m serious.” he points. She rolls her eyes, ticking off his buttons more. He shifts his gaze back towards your ogling eyes as you pant looking at Avery’s dripping pussy in front of you. 

And fuck. 

Something about your hungry eyes makes his chest tighten.  

“Gonna eat her pussy real good, huh sweetheart?” he taunts. 

You nod, fighting the urge to dig in as they both stare down at you intensely. 

“Make her cum and I’ll fuck you, m’kay? Can you do that, baby?” he asks. 

“I—yeah, yeah—I can do tha—”

Your words are swallowed into Avery’s cunt as she seats herself on your face. You moan into her, your hands grasping around and onto her hips. 

“Mmmmm, yeah she can—look how good she is for me, Matt. My—fuck—my hungry girl, huh?” she whines out, letting out a hiss as you work against her pussy. 

Matt huffs, walking around and climbing in between your legs on the bed. He kicks off his boxers, licking over his lips. You're too distracted to realize the shift in the bed, too consumed in the addiction sour of Avery’s slick coating your tongue. 

It’s almost like rubbing wet sand into your skin at the beach—-it feels addicting. Your tongue against her soft pussy lips making Avery shriek from above you. She grasps onto the headboard of the bed, her legs starting to tense on either side of your head. 

“Oh my—fuck yeah, baby. You’re doin’ so good, huh?” she praises. 

You gain confidence and more friction as she chases the knot building in her stomach. Matt can’t help but spread your legs further apart and admire your cunt pulse around nothing. He watches as your previous orgasm squeezes out of your tight hole, licking his lips as he grazes his hand teasingly up your thigh. 

“Matt, look—oh my—-she’s doing so good. All for me, huh?” 

His frustration from Avery’s relentless taunts makes his fingers dig into the thick skin between your thighs. Staring at Avery’s marks littered on your skin—he devilishly leans his head down to kiss over the marks. 

Avery’s whines get louder and louder. The bed starts to shake as she grasps onto the headboard for dear life. Placing a soft kiss on your sensitive pussy lips, Matt grins as you whine into Avery loudly, causing her to scream out as her body tenses.

“---cumming, holy fuckin’--’m cumming,” she rides her hips out slowly on your face as she hunches over to catch her breath. 

Matt stops Avery by the hips with his hands as she tries to lift herself from your face. “Uh-uh,” he tuts, “---you’re gonna sit right back down. Be good for my girl, yeah? She doesn’t sound like she’s done.” he slurs with a pronounced dominance. 

Weak from the previous orgasm, Avery only nods before letting herself fall limp on your face. You moan as you taste her yet again, completely drunk on the way her cum slowly dribbles down her walls as you prod your tongue in as deep as it can. 

Avery whines and hisses from the overstimulation, but she’s not alone. You yelp into her as you feel Matt sliding his cock along your lips, teasing your entrance. 

Crescent moons peirce into her hips from your nails as you cry out from Matt thrusting his cock into you slowly. 

“Fuckkkkk, so good. You fuckin’ squeeze my dick so goddamn good, sweetheart. Look at that….” he mumbles the last part to himself, staring at where your bodies meet. He watches as your hole stretches around his length as he slowly starts fucking into you. 

Reaching a hand down, he spreads your folds to reveal your clit. He teasingly rubs the tip of his finger on the swollen bud, moaning as you clench around him harder. 

Pressing completely down, he drags his thumb along your clit in slow circles as he starts gathering a decent pace. Each thrust of his cock combined with the euphoric touch of his thumb sends your noises directly onto Avery’s cunt, overstimulating her further as she pushes her weight forward, desperately holding herself up as her legs vibrate. 

“Oh–!” Avery comes to a high, riding out yet another orgasm as your tongue darts in and out of her hole, the tip of your nose buried against her nerves pulsing by her hooded clit. 

“My god—you eat pussy fuckin’ good.” she pants out. 

Matt huffs in between quickening thrusts. “Yeah—she, fuck, she sucks cock like…mmmm—like no other.” he remarks. 

Avery sits beside your head, her hands toying with your perky breasts as they bounce with each thrust. She mocks your facial expression as your eyebrows furrow, your mouth hanging open wide. 

“Fuck her better, Matt.” Avery grits maliciously. 

Matt is too far gone to care as he abuses his frustration from the relentless girl onto your puffy and pulsating cunt—his cunt. Your tight hole swallows him, milking him as slaps echo through the room. 

“Oh my—-” 

Your boyfriend struggles to contain the impending orgasm as you clutch him in deep with your legs around his waist. His pounding is buried deep in your gut. Avery notices this, reaching down to press on the bulge prodding with each thrust. 

A piercing scream scratches through your throat. Everything feels so good. Your chanting and moaning both nonsense and Matt’s name. Your hands desperately search for something, clutching onto Avery’s wrist as she pushes harsher with her palm on your lower stomach. 

“I’m—--I—--oh,”

You're unable to get the words out through the mind numbing pleasure. Matt’s hard cock is slapping into, hilting to create a pressure between your hips. 

“You gonna cum for me, sweetie? Yeah?” Avery pats your cheek with her free hand, sliding her thumb between your lips. You suck on the finger, nodding helplessly as your body rocks and vibrates. 

“No—fuckin’---she’s cuming—-cumming for me. Isn’t that, ugh god—right, pretty girl?” You clench around him harder at his words. “Mhm, that’s right. Fuckin’--suckn’ me in it feels so good, huh? My cock fills this pretty pussy,  baby? Tell me.” he directs. 

Avery shoots him a playful glare. “She’s busy with her mouth, Matt—”

“Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. Let—god, let her talk—or I swear,” he puffs against your skin between hard strokes of his cock pushing into you as his thrusts deepen with passion. “One more word—you’re gonna, mmmm, you're riding that pretty little face again, you hear me?” he warns.

Avery pops her thumb out of your mouth, her pulsating folds aching beyond any craving for stimulation. She lazily drags the fingers down your body, groping your breasts as she tweaks the nipple.

“Baby, tell me. Who fills this pussy so good, huh?” he rushes out, straining his sentences in a slur of pure ecstasy. 

“I—you, Matt, you!’ you whine out. 

“That’s right, that’s right,” he praises, dropping his head as he feels you start to convulse around him. Your broken moans stripped by your raw throat tip him over the edge. The tightness of your walls milks his pearlescent cum deep inside of you, messily forming a ring around the base of his cock as you both ride down your highs with lazy thrusts.

“Can I make her cum again?” Avery asks jokingly. 

Matt laughs, slowly pulling out as he glances down to your blissed out expression. He brushes sweat soaked hair behind your ear, your hooded eyes lazily blinking up at him. 

“No,” he says, kissing the side of your head as he caresses your cheek. He slurs his words with a dry chuckle.“---think she’s satisfied.” 

[gilverrwrites]

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”  

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued. 

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

[sister-lucifer]

“You’re Really Not Cut Out For This…”

A Toby x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble 

Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, bottom/sub Reader, degradation, a bit of mean Toby, heavy discussion of Reader basically being a free use sex toy, no specified genitalia for Reader, Reader + Toby are both proxies

This is not fully proof read! Please let me know if you see any typos

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCKING KILL YOU.

“You know, y-you’re reeeaaaally not cut— c-cut out for this-ss-s…t-this ‘job,’ I mean.” 

The sudden admission would make you pause if had the lucidity to do so. You can’t do much of anything with the rabid way Toby’s pounding into you from behind, shoving his cock into you with the whole of his strength without so much as a single thought to your wellbeing. You barely manage to babble out something that sounds like a question. You can feel him smiling despite the forced wrenching of his face. 

“I-I’m just saying,” he continues, punctuating that last word with a particularly acute thrust that makes you squeal, “You d-don’t—shhh!—don’t seem like y-you really enjoy this-ss-s…line of-fff-f work…hell, you’re not good at i-it— it either, if we’re being hones-ss-st-t.” 

There’s no ignoring the cheeky giggle in his voice as he insults you to your face. He leans over you a bit, putting more of his weight on you and practically trapping you beneath him. He keeps talking before you even get a chance to protest. 

“You’re definitely n-not my equal,” he growls with a chuckle, as if highly amused by the idea of your inferiority, “You’ve hardly su— s-succeeded at any mission th-the ‘Boss’ has given you— y-you…but you are so good at this—“ 

He laughs at the way you choke on nothing when he angles his hips upwards just right, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel his body shudder on top of you, a series of involuntary tongue clicks and whistles interrupting him for a moment before his endless chatter continues on. 

“You’re sooo— s-so fucking good at taking my cock…” 

He can’t contain the flood of sick giggles that burst from his throat before he can truly finish his thought. 

“…Tell you what I’m gonna do.” 

You shiver at how deathly serious his voice becomes suddenly. He’s speaking lowly into your ear, making sure you hear every syllable clear as day.  His stutter even pauses for that moment; he’s focused, suddenly, and a focused Toby is rare, but horrific for anyone who happens to be in his line of sight. 

“I’m gonna talk to the ‘Boss’…y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I-I’ll tell— t-tell him myself, ‘I don’t t-think the n-new— new— new one is cut out for this.’”

He grabs at your arms, pinning them to the mattress as he uses his body to hold you down. He’s starting to lose his steady pace as his excitement builds, his fingers flexing and popping in ways they shouldn’t be able to as he grasps your wrists.

“And he’ll l-listen to me, you know? H-He’ll lis— l-listen-nn-n to me, I know he will, be— b-because— beep! beep!— because I’m his f-ff-favorite.”

The word ‘favorite’ echoes in your mind, making you dizzy and sick. As much as you and the others are convinced that creature can’t feel emotion at all, it does show favoritism. It doesn’t love Toby, it doesn’t even care about him; on some level, Toby has to know that, he’s smarter than he lets on, but… 

…He doesn’t care. 

All he knows is that he’s getting positive attention from something, and it’s going straight to his ego. The only saving grace is that he’s usually too juvenile and short sighted to use that power against his fellow proxies. 

Usually. 

Unless he can get something he really wants out of it. 

“I-I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him-mm-m you’d be better off as my toy.” 

You nearly choke as Toby rocks you forward with a particularly hard thrust. You can feel your legs trembling, nothing more than jello underneath you, barely holding you up. Toby sucks in a breath through his crooked teeth as he watches you put the pieces together in your mind, though you can do little to show it. 

“That’s right, that’s-ss-s right!” He repeats, sounding far too pleased with himself, “I’ll tell him you’d be b-better off-ff-f being used, just-t something I can use— u-use— use to unwind after I do all the hard work that y-you— you could never.” 

He breaks out into giggles again, wrapping an arm around your neck and stifling your air without warning. You grasp onto his sleeve, clawing at his arm, but you’re far too shaky and weak to pull it away. He forces you to look him in the eyes, not wanting even a scrap of your attention to not be on him. 

“That’s right, you h-hear that?” He manages to choke out between his laughter, “I’m gon-nn-a get you demoted to a fucking hole!” 

He pushes—throws, really—your head back into the mattress before even have the chance to argue. He shoves your face into the bed, hand tangled in your hair as you whimper pathetically, exactly how he likes. He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down at you, completely helpless underneath him, and it sends a surge of sick pleasure through his body.

“Just enjoy it,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “Because when I-I get m-mm-my way, this is all you’ll ever do.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

[r4fe-cam3ron]

— YET NOW I FEEL LIKE I’VE GROWN INTO A TALL CHILD | r. cameron x reader

| warnings; i’ve only made it to season two - so this is based around season one rafe, so this will also be slightly an ‘ooc rafe’! slightly angsty, maybank!reader, mentions of drug use, blood, and abuse. i try my best to write gn!reader - but sometimes slip up! reader is wearing a skirt and has long hair - but other than that, no color or gender is discussed :).

| an; this is the first time i’m writing for rafe and im nervous - im hoping i do justice 🥲 if anyone has any feedback for writing for him, please feel free to message me and give me some tips!!

The sting from the water hitting the gash makes you grind your teeth together, squeezing your eyes shut as your muscles slowly tense. 

Breathing in deeply, your fingers grip at the cracked porcelain sink after stepping out of the shower. Turning slightly, your eyes linger on the cut on your side. You're hoping you cleaned out the remaining shards from your skin. 

Although there’s no more gauze to properly dress the cut - Thank you, Dad - you’re hoping it will be okay tonight at Midsummers. Grabbing the shirt from the hanger, you slip it on carefully after slipping on a tank top. The fabric rubs against it uncomfortably, but you're hoping it gets better throughout the night - especially if you're dealing with Kooks. 

There’s a knock that has you flinching. “What?” 

“Oh, good. You’re still here,” JJ says. Letting out a small sigh, you shake your head. “Are you coming with John B and I?” 

“No,” You slip on your skirt and belt before unlocking the door and opening it. “I work tonight. You know that.” You walk past him. You don’t mean to be so short with him, but your mind is still reeling from the fight. 

“Yeah,” JJ scoffs as he follows you into your room, watching as you plug up your curling iron. “I’m sure they’ll miss you. Not as if they have other people catering.” 

Your jaw clenches and you turn towards him. “I don’t want in on whatever stupid thing you and John B are doing, alright? Quit bothering me about it.” You snap. 

JJ stares at you quietly, brows pinching at your sudden - very misplaced - anger. “Did something happen?” 

“No! Jesus, JJ, let me get ready, please. I don’t want to be late, again.” 

Again, misplaced anger. 

You’d apologize soon and actually end up helping him and John B with whatever they needed help with - that’s always how it goes. JJ nods, sniffling a bit as he stands from your bed and walks out. The door slams behind him. 

Turning towards the mirror, you’re quick to do something with your hair before spritzing on whatever perfume you could find lying around. 

Stepping out of your bedroom, you pause when you see Luke laying on the couch, bottles surrounding him. The room even smelled of cheap cigarettes, stolen whiskey, and oil. Your fingers clench your keys in your hand as a vision crosses your mind. 

You’d never break a bottle over his head. No matter how much you actually wanted too. 

—

Your legs and arms are numb and your cheeks hurt from the fake smile you continue you to wear throughout the night, only dropping when you’re in the clear. 

JJ had somehow made his way in, leaving with a busted lip and a slight angry glance your way when all you do is look away. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

The glass you hold slips from your fingers, breaking on the ground. Rushing to kneel down, you quickly pick up the broken pieces as people stare at you. You can distinctly hear hushed voices from around you, tears starting to prick at your eyes. 

“Did you hear me?” 

Glancing up, you’re met with the face of Rafe Cameron. His pupils blown wide. You knew that exact look from Luke. Quickly looking down, you nod. “Yes. I heard you, Cameron,” You stand, pulling the platter with you. “But I don’t have enough time to clean up while serving everyone hard liquors - some of us actually have to work. Now, excuse me.” 

You wince when his hand wraps around your bicep, pressing into the bruises that were already present. Quickly yanking your arm away, you glare at him. “Dad won’t like that you have blood seeping through your shirt. Might scare some people.” 

“Well, I am so sorry to inconvenience your father. But he’ll have to deal with it.” 

Sighing, his crystal eyes dart around. “Come to the bathroom in five minutes.” He places his cup on the platter in your hands after downing the rest of the amber liquid. He turns and passes by a couple of people, patting two of his friends on the back. 

Your lips purse together slightly, staring down at the broken glass before walking to the side. Taking Rafe’s cup off and handing it over to Veronica, you dump the rest. 

“Oh, dear,” She gasps, a hand touching your side softly. “Your bleeding.” 

“So I’ve been told,” You give her a small smile. “I have to use the bathroom.” 

“Did Ward say anything to you?” Her eyes dart up at your face with a stern expression. 

“No,” You give a soft laugh. “No. Someone else. I don’t even know him. I’ll be back though, okay?” She nods and allows you to pass by her and into the house. You can still feel the stares of others, embarrassment flooding throughout your body. 

Quickly opening the door to the bathroom, you lock it once you enter and press your forehead to the cold wood and heave out a sigh. You quickly turn when you hear someone clear their throat. 

Rafe stands there with a clean shirt, holding it up slightly. “First aid kit is under the sink.” He motions towards it. You stare at the shirt in his hand for a moment before nodding, kneeling down and grabbing it. 

Unbuttoning the shirt, you slip it off and place it on the sink. Turning slightly, you lift the tank top up and tug your bottom lip in between your teeth. Grabbing an alcohol swab from the kit, you open it and slip it out. 

Rafe shifts uncomfortably, watching you. “Need any help?” 

Your eyes glance back at him before looking back at the mirror. “Maybe. I don’t know.” The last person you wanted to help was him. But he was also the only one who said anything about your bleeding through your shirt. 

He takes the swab from your fingers allowing your arms to rest on the sink and your head to drop down and eyes to close. His fingertips linger on the small of your back as his other hand cleans the dried blood from the gash.

His eyes linger on the faded and new bruises. “What…what happened?” 

Your eyes slowly open and you stare at the shirt you’d left on the sink. You try to think of a lie, but there’s not one that could pop into your head. “Dad.” 

His swiping motions come to a sudden pause as he stares at you. “Your dad?” 

The sting from the swab as you slightly squirming, his hand slipping to your side slightly. You nod. “Yes. My dad. He got angry over something—” You stop and shake your head this time. “It doesn’t matter. I should’ve just given him a straight answer. Please, hurry.” 

Rafe nods and tosses the swab into the trash and grabs some gauze. “Why didn’t you wrap it?” 

“I didn’t have time. And I also used the rest of it to clean him up two weeks ago.”  

Rafe stays silent then and wraps the bandage around your sides before securing it. You tug the tank top over your head and grab the clean shirt off the shelf. You slip your arms through quickly and button it up, tucking it into your skirt. 

“Thanks for…” You motion towards the shirt. He forces a small, closed-lip smile and nods, pushing his hair back. You unlock the door, pausing. “Also, you’re too young to be using that stuff.” 

Rafe turns towards you, his face melting into an irritated expression. “And how do you know I’m using anything?” 

“Your pupils,” You motion towards your eyes. “Dad uses it as well. That’s when I know to stay away from him. And if you want the same thing for yourself, have others hate you more than they already do, I’d do something about it before it becomes too much.” 

“You don’t know me. You’re just another pogue.” Rafe quickly snaps in a childish manner. 

“You’re right,” You nod. “And I don’t want to either.” You open the door enough where you could slip though, shutting the door behind yourself. Rafe stares at the door, clenching his fist by his side as his eyes glance over to the mirror.  

And I don’t want to either. 

His mouth drops to a frown, eyes looking at your shirt. What did he care anyway? He has what he wants. He can get what he wants. Those words shouldn’t bother him. 

Feeling into his pocket, he’s quick to pull out a small tube, dumping some powder onto his hand, quickly inhaling it for a quick, fifteen minute high. Eyes slowly slipping close, he hums softly. 

He wipes under his nose and steps back out to find Topper and Kelce. Clearing his throat, gaining their attention he gives them a smug smile. “Ready to go?” 

They’re both quick to agree, bored now that only the elders seem to linger. Walking down the steps, Rafe quickly looks back watching as you clean off a table. 

Your eyes look up and meet his, a small frown tugging at the corners of your mouth as if you knew what he did. He rolls his eyes and looks away, ignoring how heavy his chest feels.

| tags; @clairoscharm

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 8: The One About the Adjacent of Convenience

Are you guys ready to return to our regularly scheduled programme?

Actually, I must applaud the majority of the people who read my blog for how well they handled Sunday. It seemed many of you got a good laugh out of it and were then gifted Monday morning with an updated post from that dear restauranteur tossing out Lady Whistledown’s name for – honestly, I don’t know why he threw it out there. Do you?

Moving on…

Yesterday, I discussed Antonia. Today, I am going to venture over to the other side of the fandom and discuss – you guessed it – Jake Dunn.

And, no, I’m not summoning the Balrog today. In fact, I don’t equate Jake to a creature from the depths of Moria because, generally speaking, he doesn’t bother me.

Do I find him a tad annoying? Of course I do. But, only because the perception of his relationship with Nicola has been warped into something ass backwards (no pun intended) to anyone with two bits of common sense, and because he’s always inconveniently there.

At the right time.

For those pap pictures.

However, the rational side of my brain reminds me that if I don’t see anything romantic in Nicola’s relationships with, say, JVN, Mark, Golda, Jack, or either of the Dylans, I shouldn’t be bothered by her relationship with Jake. Would we be paying any attention to Jake if he wasn’t being shoved down our throats by anti-Lukolas? No, probably not.

But, here we are.

I will preface this entry with my belief that Jake did not ask to be linked romantically to Nicola. That was Deux Moi's doing. Keep that in mind as you read through this. Deux Moi created that bullshit plotline and then rabid dogs ran with it.

By the way, those are the people you should be worried about. The ones pushing their “Jakola” narratives with blind aggression. I’m talking about those “in your face” assholes whose real motive behind shipping Nicola with anyone-but-Luke is solely based on their rapid-fire hatred towards Luke. These people are not Jakolas; these people are the Jakholes.

*Oh, now is the time to slip this in… My disclaimer (or, my “ask”) for today is, let’s not pick on the Sincerely Ignorant Jakola shippers. They are just as volatile as the Sincerely Ignorant Lukola shippers. They spiral fast and hard, too. Seriously, don’t fuck with these people, please. I believe most of them to be nice people.

Thank you, next.

I know that some of you will argue that Jake is a manipulative little shit and intentionally tried to make connections between Nicola and himself by way of pictures in her personal spaces and a fucking bucket hat, and that may be true. In fact, I’ve heard this argument from Lukolas that I highly respect. It’s very possible Jake has taken advantage of his friendship with Nicola. I understand the argument behind this theory and, I’ll be honest, it has made me question Jake’s character.

But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make today.

Today, I want to focus on how Jake became an “adjacent of convenience.”

What is that exactly? Well, actually, I just now made that shit up. But, it means he’s an adjacent, not because he’s romantically involved with Nicola, but rather he was in the wrong place at the right time.

It’s funny to me, when you spend some time mapping out all the little nuances that make up the Lukola timeline, that you start seeing a bigger picture.

I do not know who was behind Papsmear. Word on the street is that it was Deux Moi. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually confirmed that so, for now, I can only speculate – and speculate I will!

If you look at events in chronological order, it is interesting that, in July, the day before a video of Luke and Antonia at the GQ dinner hit social media, Deux Moi posted old pictures of Luke and Antonia from, I believe, January. Why? It’s also interesting that the day before People Magazine published the Italy Pap pictures of Luke and Antonia, Deux Moi rehashed Papsmear. Again, why?

Do you see the patterns patterning?

I thought you would.

Then what happened?

Well, “Hot Boy Summer” suddenly came to an abrupt halt with Luke returning to London.

Alone.

Is it odd to you that Luke has not been papped with Antonia since the end of July? Because it’s pretty damn odd to me. Is it possible that Luke and Antonia ceased to be “together” at the end of July? If you have read my previous entry, you already know my opinion on this.

But, dammit, that’s a shame! No more scraps for the paps. How unfortunate for Deux Moi.

Okay, then what?

Well, “Chaos Week” began. We had Nicola posting a shit storm of content starting August 4 with French toast and ending August 16 with “Juna.” We had Wordle. We had Scrabble. We had the “Drink Your Milk” shirt. We had “Bless the Telephone.” We had “very demure, very mindful” (which, in my opinion, was confirming the intent behind “Chaos Week”). Oddly, all these things seemed to weigh heavily in Lukolas’ favor. We could even take it a bit further by including the August 22 “BTS Polin” picture and the August 23 “modern day carriage” story (you know, the picture of Nicola looking oh-so-come-hither-sexy in the back of a car), which was followed up two days later by JVN’s “finger” demo. I mean, the Lukola train was rolling, right?! Fuck, yeah, it was!

But, then it came to a very abrupt stop on August 25 when Deux Moi posted pictures of Nicola hanging out with Jake at a music festival. The narrative being given? Oh, so cozy vibes.

And, that’s the moment Jake became an adjacent of convenience.

Just from being at a concert.

Taking a picture with Nicola.

Before this point, did I know who Jake Dunn was? Yeah, I did. I’d seen – in fact DEUX MOI – post pictures of Nicola and Jake hanging out in a pub together in July. I’ll be honest, I looked Jake up at the time and everything I read about him seemed to point in the exact same direction it points to today – that he’s not romantically involved with Nicola.

In fact, I polled at least two dozen of my fellow Lukolas (with the majority of them being fellow Fact Finders, with a select few being “long haulers”) about whether they’d heard of “Jakolas” before August 25. Their answer was a collective and figuratively loud NO.

What does that say to you? It makes me believe that the Jakolas were born from those festival pictures.

How convenient.

Just a few short weeks after the Antonia/Luke ship (do they even have a name?) hit an iceberg (pun intended), we suddenly have the christening of a new ship. The USS Jakola.

How convenient.

Now, think about every good thing that has come about in the Lukola fandom since the Jakholes were released into the wild.

Every positive has been collectively counteracted with a negative.

Think about the timing of all those pap pictures with Jake.

Think about who is releasing those pap pictures.

Are the patterns starting to pattern in your head?

Think about how much effort Nicola has put into erasing the Jakola narrative.

Think about how little effort Nicola has put into erasing the Lukola narrative.

Think about how much that must piss the fuck out of the Jakholes. And Deux Moi.

Anyone want to go with me to rescue Jake from the USS Jakola? I heard the Jakholes put him in the hull closet.

If you have some hesitation, I suppose I could agree to keep him hostage until we know where his allegiance lies. But I'm thinking he's dying to get off that ship.

[sworeidnevercompromise]

❤️‍🔥 burning desire: a trevor (hellraiser) x reader fic about: the "i love you" scene but with y/n and also with a different outcome warnings: 18+, oral (m&f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex word count: 2.3k ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ other works

AUTHOR'S NOTE: just a quick little thing i wrote after watching hellraiser for the hundredth time. tbh i wrote this during a lecture & was too lazy to edit (finals week) so if there's any mistakes or anything feels rushed, that's why.

“Harder, go harder,” you gasp, as Trevor drives his hips down into you, shaking the bed. 

He glances down at you. “Are you you sure?” His hands tangle into your hair.

“Yeah, harder,” you plead, your back arching off the bed. But it’s not enough. You need to switch positions. “No, no, wait, wait, wait. Turn me around.”

He doesn’t hesitate, following your orders instantly, flipping you around so you’re on your stomach. He presses his dick back inside of you, not moving yet, clearly waiting for you to tell him when to go. God, he’s so obedient that it almost makes you sick.

“Okay, go. Yeah.” You turn your head to the side, cheek resting on your pillow. 

He sinks deeper into you. “Here? Right here?” He sounds so eager to please you, so desperate to make sure you feel good. And, fuck, do you ever. 

“Go, go, go,” you command, moaning as he rocks his hips, his dick sliding in and out of you. He moves a little bit faster, gripping your hips.

He moans. “How’s this speed? Is this good?” You moan in response, too full of pleasure to focus. “You like that?”

You nod, groaning out a little “yeah.” He keeps up the pace, his strokes hitting your G-spot every time, filling you with waves of pleasure. “Yeah, yeah, I love it.” You moan again, getting closer and closer to cumming with each passing moment. You arch your back, rolling your hips to meet his.

He moans, moving a little bit faster, his grip on your hips getting tighter. “I love you,” he gasps. 

You pause your movements, a little taken aback. “What? Wait, wait.” You move away, his dick dragged out of you completely. You turn around.

He blinks, seeming to realize what he’s just said. “Oh, fuck.” He rolls over, laying down beside you, placing his hands over his face. “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that.”

You sit up, looking over at him. “Trevor.”

He shakes his head, his hands still hiding his face. “Fuck. Y/n…”

You grab his wrists, pulling his hands away. You need to discuss this, damn it. He can’t just act like he didn’t say that. “Trevor. Look at me.”

His face is beet red. You’ve never seen him this embarrassed. “Nah, listen, we can just pretend I didn’t say that. Please?” He looks desperate. Fuck, he looks like he’s going to cry. “We’ve got, like, a good friends-with-benefits thing going. I didn’t mean to fuck it up like that.”

You still haven’t let go of his wrists. “Did you mean it?” You hear yourself ask the question before you realize it’s left your mouth. 

He sits up, shaking your hands off. “...What?”

You pull the blanket around you, covering yourself up. You suddenly feel vulnerable, and a little uncertain. You hate feeling like that. It’s feelings like those that drive you back to drugs every time. You fiddle with the edge of the blanket. “You heard me. Did you mean it?”

He blinks at you, covering himself up with one of your pillows. He must feel just as uncertain and vulnerable as you do right now. Shit, he must feel it way worse than you. Damn, you think, he’d better not cry. He’s right. You do have a good friends-with-benefits thing going. He’s a good friend to you, he understands you more than anyone, when it comes to being an addict. And he’s damn good in bed, even if he’s a little overeager. His stroke game is fucking insane. You don’t want to lose that. You’re so lost in thought that you almost forget he hasn’t answered your question yet. “Trevor. Answer me.”

He rests his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands again. “Fuck, y/n, no. Not like that. I…I love you as a friend, and I love fucking you. But I don’t love you. Can we just pretend I didn’t say that? Please?” He answers too quickly. You know he’s lying. He’s an awful liar.

You hesitate before rubbing his back softly. “Trevor, it’s okay, alright? I just…it caught me off guard.”

He stands up, suddenly, practically leaping off the bed and throwing his clothes on. “I’m gonna go,” he says as he’s getting his shirt on, “I’ll just…yeah. I should leave.”

You blink at him. “Trevor, it’s okay. Seriously. I don’t…I don’t care, alright?” And the thing is, you don’t. It’s a little weird, sure, if he does love you, but whatever. You can’t lose this. Not just the sex. You can’t lose him as a friend. 

He stops. “What?”

You scoot to the edge of the bed, still holding the blanket around yourself. “Come on, Trevor. It’s okay, if you do. I mean, I can’t say that I, like, feel the same? But I do love you as a friend, and…and I want to keep doing what we’re doing.”

He shakes his head. “Y/n…I can’t keep doing this. Like…I care about you too much. More than as a friend. And I got caught up in the moment, and I guess it’s out in the open now.”

You sigh, deeply. You can’t lose this. You have to fix this. How can you get him to stay? What should you do? 

Oh. You know. You drop the blanket, pouting.

“Come on, Trev. I didn’t even cum, yet. You’re gonna leave without finishing the job?”

He stares at you, eyes instantly falling to your perfect tits, and he looks like he’s in a daze. He shakes his head slowly. “N-no. No, I’m not gonna leave without finishing the job.”

You nod just as slowly. “That’s right. C’mere.” You lean forward, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down, revealing that he’s half-hard in his boxers. He looks down at you before lifting his shirt off over his head. You smile up at him. “Yeah?”

He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You kneel in front of him, knees cold on the hardwood floor. But you don’t care. You need him to stay. Who gives a fuck if he’s in love with you or not? You’re not about to let the best dick of your life walk out the door. You palm him through his boxers. He groans your name. “Y/n…”

You pull his boxers down, his now fully-hard dick springing out. You look up at him as you lick a long stripe up his shaft, tongue flicking over his tip. He tangles one hand into your hair, not pushing yet. You pull away, nodding slightly, before taking just the first inch or two into your mouth. He looks down at you, making eye contact. “You sure?”

You pull off again, pressing a kiss to his tip. “Yes, Trevor. I’m sure.” You wrap your mouth around his cock again, this time going about halfway down. He moves your head, just barely, until you’ve gotten almost all of his dick into your mouth. You begin to bob your head, your warm mouth enveloping him, glossy lips wrapped around his length. He gets a little bit more confident, moving your head a bit more forcefully, making you take all of him into your mouth, until his tip is hitting your throat. You moan around him, the salty taste of his precum and the weight of him in your mouth causing you to get even wetter than you were from before. 

“Shit, y/n,” he groans, “So fucking good.” You let him move your head, giving him complete control. You almost choke, this time, but you don’t, tears filling your eyes. He moves his other hand to cup your cheek, wiping a tear away. “God, you’re beautiful.”

You keep going, licking and sucking, hollowing your cheeks, until he can’t take it anymore. When he cums, there’s no warning, but you manage not to choke, swallowing all of it and kissing his shaft. His knees almost buckle as he cums, and once he’s done, he lays down on the bed, sighing happily. 

“Fuck.”

You curl up next to him. “That good?”

He nods, brushing your hair out of your face. “Yeah.” You both lay there for a few moments until he’s flipping you onto your back without warning, lifting your legs so he can reposition himself. Your legs are on his shoulders, his head between them, and he’s gripping your thighs. He kisses you just below your belly button. “Your turn.”

You smile down at him, running a hand through his hair, leading him further down. He kisses your clit, and it’s so tender that you think shit, he really does love me. He licks long, broad strokes, flattening his tongue. Then, he’s pointing it, licking into the heat of you, gripping your thighs tighter. He lets your hand that’s in his hair guide him, and it’s fucking perfect. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, big eyes bottomless, his pupils blown wide. He licks your clit quickly, teasing you. 

“Fuuuuck,” you moan, pleasure building, “That’s really fucking good.” He presses two fingers inside of you, still tonguing your clit. He curls his fingers and licks harder, before sucking on the bud. You moan louder than you have all night. “Fuck, Trevor, that’s so good, so fucking good, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-” You cum, squirting all over his face, and he keeps going, the overstimulation driving you crazy. “Fuuuuuuck. Shit. Trevor, I…oh, God.”

He kisses your thighs as you shake through your orgasm, and rubs little patterns on them when you’re finally done. “You good?” He looks so…vulnerable. Almost like a little puppydog.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “I’m good.” But you’re not, you need more, you need him in you, need him to pound you like he was before he let the “I love you” slip. You shake your head. “Actually, I…I need more.” 

He stares at you. “Shouldn’t we…I dunno. Talk? About what I said?”

“Listen, we can work something out. I mean…we’re basically dating, right?”

He sighs. “Y/n…people don’t say ‘I love you’ this early into a relationship.” 

You groan. How can you make him understand? What do you have to do to get that you don’t really give a shit? You’ve never been big on relationships, but if he wants to be your boyfriend, fuck it. You care about him, and you’re good friends, and he’s literally the best you’ve ever had. Who cares if he says “I love you” too early? You want him, in any way he’ll let you. So you say exactly that, all in one breath, inhaling deeply once you’re done. He just stares at you.

“Are you…sure?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “God, can you just shut the hell up and fuck me already?”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He moves up so his face is right above yours, tossing your legs over his shoulders again. He picks you up slightly, reaching for a pillow and placing it under your lower back before laying you back down. “This position good?”

You nod, gesturing for him to get a move on. He’s already hard again. Fuck, he’s so adorable. You smile at him. “It’s great, baby.”

He grins widely at the petname. “We do have to talk, after, you know-”

You smack his shoulder, urging him to shut the hell up. He gets the hint, shutting up and sinking into you balls-deep. Your back arches so much that you practically levitate off of the bed. 

“Oh, God, Trevor.” The two of you make practically electric eye contact. He smiles down at you, rolling his hips. 

He gets an arm under your shoulders, and he leans down to kiss your cheek sloppily. “Ah, shit.” He moans. “How’s this? Faster? Tell me what you need right now.”

You shake your head. “This is perfect. Just…ah, a little deeper, maybe?” He follows your instructions right away. “Yeah, yes, fuck that’s good.” 

It’s not long before you’re both moaning louder than before, the sounds filling your room. His strokes get more sloppy, and his hips stutter. You look at him, refocusing your eyes. “Close?”

He nods, and then shakes his head. “No, I can keep going, sorry-”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “Trevor, it’s okay. I am too.”

“Fuck.” He looks at you with big, bottomless eyes, and they may as well be heart-shaped. “Fuck, y/n, I love you.” You kiss him, and that’s what sends him over the edge. Your orgasm quickly follows, starting just as he’s spilling into you. 

He kisses all over your face before pulling out and laying down next to you, breathing heavily. You curl into his side. “You said it again.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck, I’m an idiot, I keep messing up.”

You kiss his cheek. “Say it one more time for me? I like hearing you say it.”

He blinks at you, but does what you asked. “I love you, y/n.”

A grin overtakes your face. “Yeah?”

He grabs your hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “‘M sorry.” Scooting closer to him, you wrap your arms around him in a hug. He instantly gets comfortable, hugging you back, kissing the top of your head. “No, not…I’m not sorry, I’m not sorry for loving you, I’m sorry for saying it.”

“Trevor, don’t worry about it, really. I don’t love you back, not like that, not yet, but…I want to be something more than just friends with benefits. I want…I want to be your girlfriend. Seriously.” He kisses you deeply, tongue meeting yours. “You have to stop kissing me like that, you know. Unless you want to go another round.”

He grins at you, rolling you onto your back. “I could go another round, yeah.” You laugh, kissing his cheek. 

Sure, it’s complicated. But you two can figure it out. You have to.

[nervoussagittarius]

to win or not to win

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris and his girlfriend do a twitch stream together and compete at who’s the better fortnite player, request

warnings: fluffy, language

it wasn’t unusual for you and chris to get into friendly competitions. most of them ended in a temper tantrum from one of you, but they were innocent nonetheless.

todays topic of discussion was ‘whos the better fortnite player’. although chris had been playing for a significant amount of time longer than you, you were sure you could hold your own. especially, because chris was the one to teach you how to play.

you both we’re confident in your skills, so the only logical way to decide was to take it to twitch and let the viewers watch the showdown.

“okay guys so here’s what’s happening today. y/n and i are having the fortnite championship and you guys are here to witness” chris said as he took the seat next to you. a very serious look was etched on his face

you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a look that said ‘really?’

“while we wait for mr. dramatic to calm down i’ll tell you why we’re really here. chris thinks he’s better at fortnite then me.” you said. there was a slight pause before both of you broke into laughter and fell into eachother.

you continued as chris placed his head on your shoulder and watched the chat, “i don’t think chris is better a fortnite then me. so we’re gonna play a few rounds and see who has the best outcomes.”

“yeah so basically we’re gonna be playing 3 rounds, and when we finish we’re going to see who had the overall higher placings.” chris explained.

“that’s quite literally what i just said. thank you for repeating me, love”

“that’s quite literally what i just fucking said” chris mimicked as he poked your side to agitate you.

“stop it” you said giggling, trying to slap his hand away from you.

chris had the split screen set up on his pc. it was a tight fit but you guys were going to make it work. this argument needed to be settled.

the first two games went smoothly. trash talk was being thrown and so were elbows. you both didn’t mind playing dirty. lines had been crossed to many times to count, but it was all in fun.

“it all comes down to this, ma. so far we each have a first and second place finish” chris said cracking his knuckles. no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t intimidating anyone.

the game went smoothly for a while. you were both able to get through with out any scratches. it was down to the last ten when chris noticed you leg start bouncing in anticipation and nervousness.

as much as chris hated to admit it, he didn’t want to see you lose. he loved seeing how excited you got whenever you win a competition between the two of you, and this was a game chris was willing to throw.

chris looked at you, then at the game before him, then back at you. he could see the distress on your face and he hated it.

“dude i don’t even fucking know where these guys are coming from!” you exclaimed as you started firing random shots to try to hit someone.

you guys were now in the final four. chris made his way over to your character and quickly took out one on the guys shooting at you. you were able to get the other one out not long after that.

“oh fuck chris. please don’t shoot. please don’t shoot. please” you repeat over and over as you tried to get the perfect aim on chris’s player. without warning chris pretended to fumble his controller, dropping it to the ground.

“oh shit!”

this gave you the perfect opportunity to kill chris’s character and win the game and the overall competition between the two of you.

“yes!” you yelled as you threw your arms up and jumped out of your chair.

“oh my fuck. no chance. i just fucking won.”

you did a celebratory lap around chris’s room. chris winked at the camera and held his finger up to his lips telling the chat to not spoil the fact that she is let you win. when you made it back to him you held his face in your hands.

he looked up at you as you said, “you we’re good. simply just not good enough.” you leaned down to place a short peck on his lips and held out your hand for him to shake. he instead grabbed your hand pulling you down to sit on his lap.

“you know chris, me winning really just proves how good you are at fortnite because you taught me everything i know”

chris groaned in joking frustration as he nuzzled his head into the crook of you neck. he placed soft kisses around the area as you watched the chat congratulate your win.

chris finally picked his head up, “thank you guys so much for watching me get my ass kicked by my girlfriend i-”

“kinky.” you interrupted.

“okay that’s it” chris stood up, picking you up by your waist at the same time. he walked over to his bed and gently threw you down. swiftly, he ran back over to his desk chair, taking a seat.

“as i was saying, thanks for watching and we’ll see you again soon”

“bye!” you said blowing a kiss to the camera.

an: this one’s cute. i didn’t want it to seem identical to matt’s so i hope y’all enjoy it🤍

[justanescapism]

Could be Anyone

Homelander x Supe!Fem!Reader

Tags: Smut, MDNI! Written in 2nd Person, Degrading name calling, dom/sub dynamic, reader is a lil bratty, no powers mentioned

Word Count: 461

A/N: Not used to writing smut so forgive any awkwardness or weirdness

18+ below the cut! Minors do not interact

Homelander had a strong sense of smell, it was part of his repertoire of powers. You knew this and you came to the meeting, wet and aroused and you knew he could smell it. You two had been fucking for months now, but in secret. But you liked toying with him and pushing the line.

They were discussing something boring, saving people, defeating the villain, all that boring stuff, at least that's how Homelander felt whilst you were there, looking like you were paying attention but he knew where your mind was. It was torture and he would punish you for it later. Something you knew, and planned on.

Finally, the Deep had stopped talking about whatever rubbish save the ocean scheme he was interested in. Homelander was quick to dismiss everyone but you, claiming he had to talk to you about a very important sponser.

Now, you were bent over the table. Homelander had removed your clothes as soon as they had left - wasting no time.

"Now, what happens to sluts like you? Coming into the meeting aroused and wet."

"Maybe I saw someone that made me feel that way."

"Hmm." Homelander harshly spanked your ass cheek, leaving a red handprint from his gloved hand. "Is that so?"

"Who can say?" Another hand hit. "Could be anyone." Another hand.

"You think I won't fuck you right here, where anybody could see you?"

"You're more scared than I am."

With that, you trousers were on the floor, and Homelander's gloved fingers were rubbing your clothed pussy. You were soaking and it drove him mad. He ripped off your panties, not caring now if anyone heard.

"Let's see what kind of slut you really are."

He began to rub your clit, slow at first, achingly slow, you whimpered leaning back into his hand.

"There she is. My little slut, so desperate."

Picking up the pace, he held your lower back, gently pushing it into the table, so you couldn't move. You were a moaning mess, desperately trying to move to create more friction, but he was stronger much stronger than you.

"Not so defiant now, are we?" He slapped your pussy, making you yelp before going straight back to torturing your clit. You were close and he could tell.

"You want to cum on my hand?" You nodded hazily, you were starting to see stars. Suddenly it all came crashing down and then he stopped. All contact gone in a instance.

"Please, let me cum."

"Sluts like you don't deserve to cum, you have to earn it. My apartment, tonight. With that, he left the meeting room, leaving you breathless and frustrated. But not before peaking his head back in, "Oh and no touching until then and I'll know if you do."

[kissitbttr]

“toji, baby? can you do alena’s hair please?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing simple breakfast for your little family,

he nods at you, giving a short kiss on your cheek as a confirmation before heading towards his little girl’s play pen. his eyes brighten when alena is busying herself with her my little pony plushies, adorable messy hair comes into view making him chuckle,

“hey ya sweetheart, having fun?” toji walks around to face his pretty baby, the sound of her dad’s voice causing her to look up. he swears the moment her big round eyes stare at him, he’s ready to kill anyone who dares to try take his daughter away,

with a toothy smile, she babbles away while clapping her chubby hands. feeling excited to see her dad there, seemingly cannot wait to be picked up by him,

“aren’t you the prettiest girl i have ever seen, hm? aside from mama of course. dunno what she sees in me. she’s a ten and i’m not. i’m happy she chose me, though. such a lucky bastard” toji makes sure to whisper the last word to himself because he doesn’t want his daughter to hear him cuss.

his hands go under her armpits before lifting her up, little legs kicking away in excitement making toji chuckles. “time to do my little alena’s hair!”

he brings her to the baby chair near the dining room, where you can see it too. your eyes look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of him setting your baby down,

“got anything to work on today?”

toji shakes his head, rolling the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows. “nah. took a day off. i’m letting shiu handling it today”

one of your eyebrows quirks up, turning out to plate the cut up fruits and eggs on the table. “oh yeah? what if there’s something really important come up that you need to—“

“i need my girls more” he cuts you off with a soft voice and a grin, his eyes look up to you and see you mirroring his smile but it’s much more prettier to him. “plus, i’m sure they can handle not having their ceo for today. and tomorrow. maybe”

his fingers move to thread lightly under the strands of alena’s hair as she toys with a little action figure toji had gifted her few days prior. it keeps herself busied while he’s doing her hair,

“how about you, baby? got any meetings or anything?”

you shrug, grabbing a few utensils. “just one with the team to discuss the launch of our newest design. should be quick, though. hopefully. i need to speed up the process and everything because it seems that everyone is fuc—freaking slow.”

he chuckles, tying a band around alena’s mini bun. “i’m sure you can handle it, darling. you’re ruthless like that. one of the reasons why i fell on love with you, is it?”

“would you still, if i had to kill them?”

“absolutely” he answers without hesitation making you laugh,

“god, we are bad parents”

“don’t know what you’re talking about. we’re pretty good at what we’re doing” toji smiles at his baby, who suddenly chucks the toy towards the table. “damn, our baby got strength”

“got that from you, i think” you lean towards the table and snatch a cut up strawberry before plucking it into your mouth,

“nope. that’s from you” he corrects, softly patting alena’s hair that are sticking out. “remember when we had an argument and you almost hit me with—“

“we do not talk about that” you shake your head, not wanting to remember,

“was pretty sexy to me” he replies casually. “i was so turned on by that”

both of you share a laugh, causing alena to look up at both of you at the sound of it.

“so—do i get to see my pretty wife’s latest design or—“ toji trails off, planting a kiss on alena’s chubby cheek before grabbing a handful of berries for himself,

you tilt your head to the side, a small smirk tugs upon your lips and toji immediately catches what that look meant for,

“i see trouble” he eyes you for a second, chewing on the juicy fruit. “is it sexy? god, if it was you can’t keep teasing me, baby. i’d die”

“so dramatic, you won’t die”

“i will for you though” and he means it. “is it dresses? leather involved perhaps?”

shaking your head, you reply “lingeries, babe. night gowns, garters, panties. all that”

and toji suddenly stops moving. breathing even. his eyes widening at the mention of lingeries,

“oh fuck. you are killing me.”

“toji! language!”

but alena just laughs at her silly banter between her parents

[split-spectrum]

Heat Sick

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Length: 3.5K (One-off)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content - minors DNI. noncon elements including nonconsensual voyeurism, master/padawan kink, age gap (no ages expressly mentioned and no description of reader), power imbalance, masturbation, angst, guilt kink

Description: While on a mission with your master to uncover an assassination plot, you forget to turn off your security cam. Obi Wan sees more than he's ready to confront, and feels more than he's ready to withstand.

☆☆☆

"We will discuss this later."

"Master, can we not trade one more day of the war for this? Just one day?"

Obi Wan lets his eyes widen as he turns to face you in disbelief. "Young one, the decision is not ours to make. The sooner you learn that and make peace with it, the better."

"Perhaps I could stay behind. Just me. I could ask the council-"

He nods to the ambassador and stands, lowering his tone to you as the rest of the room leaves. "You will pack your things, and we will be on our way tomorrow."

As you follow him down the hall to your respective rooms, Obi Wan makes a concerted effort to keep his shoulders low and his pace steady. Letting his irritation show would do no good for either of you.

No - he thinks - not quite irritation. It stings more than that.

You've been ready for the trials for some time, and the only thing keeping you from completing them is your overloaded schedule of assignments. You aren't yet a knight, though you both know that you likely would be, if not for the war.

But until then, where he goes, you go. And to defy that - to defy him by contacting the council for reassignment... he'd never expected you to go so far.

"Forgive me, Master," you mumble behind him, clearly not sorry. "I- I just want to help these people, and it doesn't seem like anyone besides me can see the extent of their issues."

Obi Wan suppresses any semblance of feelings, turning to face you when he reaches his door. "Perhaps that is true. Let us... let us agree that it is. What then? Are you prepared to stay here indefinitely?"

You fall silent, gazing up at him with those blasted, soulful eyes of yours. Those eyes can simply bowl him over whenever you please. It just isn't fair.

He sighs. "The council sent us here to uncover the assassination plot against the Toydarian king, and we have done our duty. We could spend a lifetime on any planet if we concerned ourselves with internal politics."

"This isn't just internal politics," you insist. "Another attempt on the king's life is almost inevitable, because we haven't rooted out the underlying problems."

Your face is so solemn, he has to force himself to take a beat before answering too flippantly. "Let us hope it happens in the distant future."

"Master, I'm being serious."

"As am I, Padawan." He hits the last word with a little more emphasis than needed. "As I have told you time and time again, we must learn to choose our battles. We have won the day. Now we must move on to where we are needed most."

Your brows pinch tight. "And I suppose we just hope the Toydarians can last until the end of the war without falling into a civil war of their own."

"Indeed, let us both hope so."

You'd clearly expected another answer; had wanted a longer argument. Your mouth falls open in indigance, but nothing comes out.

You turn and stalk away, and Obi Wan heaves another sigh as he enters his temporary quarters. There is nothing he can do to make you see reason when you're like this. The only thing he can give you is time.

Which is why a few hours later, your knock at the door is expected, but still welcome.

"Master?"

Obi Wan ends his meditation and answers the door, finding you standing rigidly behind it, clearly making an effort to keep eye contact.

"Come in," he ushers you, stepping to the side.

You look at the floor, then back to him as you enter. Your voice is soft and low. "I... wanted to apologize for my behavior... earlier."

Obi Wan lifts his eyebrows, but holds back his words, for now. He's already forgiven you, perhaps too quickly. Perhaps you know that.

"I just feel so... frustrated lately, with all these short, temporary assignments. It doesn't feel like we're making a difference at all."

He nods, gesturing for you to join him in sitting on the end of his bed. "I understand your need to help others. But we must not allow our fleeting feelings to blind us to the greater picture. We are a part of an order. You must never forget that."

Your stare is fixed on your lap, and you nod. "I know. I know."

"Letting go in order to focus on the greater good is not always an easy thing. But you will learn." He allows a small smile. "I have faith."

Your eyes sparkle when you finally look back up at him, and Obi Wan swallows, forcing himself to keep his smile in place before he looks away. It stirs something within him when you hold him in your gaze like that, as if he'd hung the stars themselves. Reminds him why it is best that you complete your trials and leave his side.

"I'm... sorry I mentioned a reassignment. I wasn't thinking clearly. My place is with you, Master. I don't want to be anywhere else."

Your earnestness sends a little wave of warmth through him, and Obi Wan quickly tamps it down, reaching for your clasped hands on your lap. He pats your hand gently. "I... appreciate that very much. But your place will not be here much longer."

You give him a wry little smile. "That's true. I suppose I should use my opportunities to disobey you sparingly, or you may not speak to me anymore after I'm knighted."

He returns your smile. "You won't be rid of me so easily. Not when I'm expected to use the new graphic software for mission reports."

He enjoys the way your lightened gaze slides over to him, lips splitting into a full grin. He knew that would get a rise out of you - you hate it when he asks you to help him with his datapad.

"On second thought, maybe I should transfer to a new quadrant as soon as possible."

Obi Wan laughs again, patting your leg this time. His big hand rests on your thigh a little longer than it should, and he draws it back, clearing his throat.

"I..." Your softened voice fills the silence. "I suppose I'll also need to get used to calling you Obi Wan."

Hearing his name in your mouth sends another little ripple of warmth just where it shouldn't be - right between his ribs. He steadies his thoughts.

"Let's agree to hold off until the trials, shall we?"

He hopes you hear it as a brush-off; a simple reassertion of your relationship, and that you don't hear the way his voice is pulled tight.

You grant him mercy, standing to face him again. "As you wish, Master," you answer. "Thank you for accepting my apology."

Obi Wan shakes his head. "There is nothing to forgive. Caring for those around you is no weakness. Now, get some rest."

You bow your head respectfully as he sends you on your way, and Obi Wan closes the door behind you. He rests his palm flat against the cool durasteel of the closed door, standing still for a moment.

The way his words no longer come easily in your presence, he knows he should be pushing you toward the trials as quickly as he can.

But that's another issue, for another day. Right now, he should be taking his own advice and getting some rest.

He crosses the room, removing his outer robe and hanging it in a nearby closet. Finding the light control panel and clicking off the remaining lights, he turns to look back at his bed and frowns. There's still light emanating from a small screen at his bedside. Then he watches as the image of you moves across the screen.

Oh. Right. The security cams.

Each of your rooms had been equipped with them when you'd moved into the palace a week ago. It's a closed circuit, meaning that you can only view one another. There had been some other channels available, including the king's chamber and other important locations. Those have been shut off since the investigation concluded. The cams in each of your rooms were only meant to be used when you were gone, to secure your living quarters when you weren't using them. Evidently, you'd forgotten to turn yours off - probably because you'd come back to your quarters in such a huff earlier.

Obi Wan walks over to the screen, ready to shut it off, but finds himself standing there, lingering. Hand at the ready, but never quite pressing the button.

You shrug out of your heavy outer robe and hang it over the back of a chair, your movements graceful and slow. Bracelets slide from your wrist down your forearm, and although there's no sound with the image, he can practically hear the way they jangle together. Those blasted pieces of jewelry - he's told you a thousand times not to wear them, but you keep them tucked under the sleeve of your robe anyway. Probably stuffed into the fabric so they don't make a sound.

His hand comes back to his side, watching as you admire them while taking each one off. They aren't practical. They could catch on something during a fight. But they'd been given to you by a friend, and you'd stubbornly held onto them. And if he's being honest, they are beautiful.

Beautiful.

The word hangs in his mind.

He clears his throat, refocusing on the idea that he should work to accept that there are some things he was able to train out of you, and some things that remain a part of who you are. Now that you're moving on, no longer his padawan, he needs to force himself to view you differently.

He watches as you put away your bracelets, packing them with the rest of your clothing. After another moment, he lifts a hand to the button again. Any longer and he'll be infringing on your privacy. He just... wanted to take a moment to reminisce.

He continues to reminisce while you're bending down to roll out your night clothes, and he can see down the front of your-

Click.

His breathing is unsteady.

The blank, darkened screen stares back at him. Every one of his nerve endings feels like they've been dipped in molten lava.

He's never done anything so improper.

You are his padawan. 

His padawan. He leans into the word, branding it into his mind, with all that it encompasses. All the expectations and the prohibitions. All the sleepless nights and grueling days he's spent committing himself to you; to do right by you.

He's let this thing, this fascination, fester within him for far too long. Lingering looks, over time, have become a habit. And just now, the habit has been unspooled in front of him, spilling out like thread from a cut cloth. He'd never realized it had become this much a part of him. Not until just now, when his gaze didn't have to turn away. When it could run rampant with no consequences.

It fills him with a sort of dread. As if his feet are on a path he knows he can't turn from. No, indeed - he's already on it. Just by not moving from this spot in front of the screen, he's already taken the first steps.

He feels like every muscle in his body is taught, ready to snap. This moment could be so easy to resist, if he knew it would happen again. If this weren't the one time he would ever, ever have the chance to see you - really see you, without hiding his desire. Without the chance of you knowing. Without the need to control himself.

Click.

You've taken off your tunic, spreading it flat to roll it up. All you're wearing are your leggings and a thin undershirt that wraps tightly around your stomach and hangs loosely at the top. When you bend to roll the tunic up, his eyes are unable to tear away from the screen. The dark crevice where your shirt falls open draws him in, dangerously close to revealing more. His eyes are fixated on it. Pleading for it to spare him and stay in place. Pleading for it to slip.

He drinks in the features of your face. Your relaxed expression. The curve of your jaw. The length of your neck.

How many times has he imagined it - brushing a knuckle along the nape of your neck, just to feel your warmth. The thrill that would run through him as you might look up at him with wide, confused eyes. A shudder runs through him, filling him with unwelcome heat.

He's been on enough desert planets to experience heat sickness. The way it courses through the body in nauseating waves. Making him jittery, uneasy. Shaking with the feeling of wanting to burst, yet knowing there's nothing he can do to fight it. He could not beg the suns for mercy. The only thing he could do was let the sickness crawl through his veins, poisoning him slowly until he lost all sense. And hope he could come back to himself when it was all over.

You finish folding and turn around to unclasp the front of your leggings.

Obi Wan sits, the soft edge of his bed catching him.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as you seem to take an eternity to slowly slide the pants over the curve of your ass, exposing skin he's never seen before. Even in the smallest of your training clothes, he's never seen the full, soft cheeks of your ass on display like this. He sucks in a breath, eyes dancing over every inch.

You step out of the leggings, bending at the knees to pick them up, and he watches the arch of your back, the sway of your hips. When you put away your leggings, he considers it a blessing that you're behind a table, yet still feels the pull of frustration - waiting, waiting, waiting for you to step back into view.

When at last you do, your hands slip down to your sides and you turn to face the cam again, showing him the smooth skin of your stomach as your shirt lifts up.

"Stars, help me," Obi Wan whispers, unblinking.

But you're walking back and forth as you undress, and at the moment his breath hitches, you turn away again, and he sees nothing but your back. You stride across the room, completely at ease, and just as you enter the doorframe of the refresher next to your room, your fingers lazily slip under the waistband of some sort of obscenely delicate fabric, peeling your underwear down your body.

Obi Wan has to stifle a soft moan, imagining his own larger, rougher hands in place of yours, dragging the lacey thing down your legs to the floor.

You step out of them, and at a distance that's quite blurry, he can just see the soft bounce of your breasts from the side. His mouth is slackened, watching you walk away from the cam and into the next room.

His chest is tight. He shifts uncomfortably in the bed to reposition. He can feel the thrum of his own flushed face, can feel his pulse between his legs.

When you come out of the other room, you're clothed - just barely. You've put on a silky little slip. It's practically see-through. It might be worse than seeing you with no clothes at all. The slip itself is almost painfully innocent. No lace or adornments. A simple, soft garment worn for your comfort in bed. Nothing more.

The idea sends another shameful jolt through him, at watching you like this. Then he catches sight of the small pod in your hand. When you draw up one of your legs onto the bed and take off the lid of the pod to swipe your fingers through it, he realizes that it's a salve or lotion of some sort. A new level of agony overtakes him as you slide the lotion over your leg, rubbing in soft circles over your skin. Each time you lean forward to rub another circle, your slip rides up to show a teasing glimpse of your ass.

Obi Wan follows your every movement, feeling his gaze go glassy, heavy, and lost. The ache throbbing between his legs seems to thrum in time with your entrancing, repetitive movements. You start on the other leg, and when you bend forward this time, he groans into his fist, seeing even more.

Almost absently, he palms down his straining erection through his clothes. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and then snap open again to watch as you drop your leg, smoothing the lotion over your arms and neck, then sliding your hands around your breasts. You may as well be wearing nothing, the way he can see your fingers working beneath the fabric, squeezing the soft skin and teasing delicately over your own nipples.

His lower lip juts forward when his mouth falls open, and Obi Wan bares his teeth as if that will help him. As if the futile gesture of his struggle will somehow stop the way his hand is rubbing himself. As if it will keep him from tearing his off clothes as he watches you touch yourself.

Your hands slowly work their way down to your stomach, then down the lengths of each of your arms, and you finally put the lotion away. You dim the lights, but the picture is still fortunately - cursedly - clear enough that he can see every curve of your body as you climb into bed. You pull back the covers, and Obi Wan's palm presses hard into his lap and stills.

"Oh, darling, no..." he murmurs as you crawl forward, giving him a clear view of your perfect, glistening center. You're a little wet, and he feels himself losing a small piece of his sanity trying to imagine why you might be.

Once you're in bed, lying on your side, the light from the next room bathes your face in an ethereal glow so that he can see your every expression clearly, though your body is a little shrouded by the blankets piled at your feet.

He can, however, with the way you're angled, see right between your legs.

Hands trembling, he unceremoniously yanks down his pants to wrap a palm around himself, letting out a short gasp at the relief.

Your perfect pussy, bared just for him. He curses under his breath as he drinks in the sight of you, knowing he'll only last a few moments and squeezing himself, trying to draw out the moments as long as possible.

Obi Wan's heated gaze ratchets upward when he notices you yawn - soft, sweet and pure.

Entranced by the way your lower lip is hanging open, he imagines what it would feel like to shove two fingers into your warm, wet mouth. The image makes his cock twitch in his hand, and he imagines that going in next.

He admits it - he wishes he were there with you. Right now. Standing over your bed and looking into your big, luminous, trusting, tear-blurred eyes and shoving his cock into your lovely little mouth.

He wants to run a finger along the folds of your pussy until you soak his hand, and then he wants to ease your legs apart and tease circles around your swollen clit until you're babbling with pleasure. He wants you in every way. Stars save him - he wants to fuck you.

The thought makes him grunt low in his throat, and he tightens his grip. He's disgusted with himself, grinding into his own fist as if he could wring the very thought out of his body.

His padawan, bent over her bed, legs spread for him. His heavy palms on her waist, holding her perfect body, her skin too young and smooth for his calloused hands. Her pussy engulfing his dick, making him cry out her name with every thrust.

With every harsh tug of his pulsing, drooling cock, he's more damned. But he can't stop. Can't think of anything but you. His whole mind - his whole being - is concentrated on nothing but you, and how much he wants to paint your stomach, your face, your cunt with the cum that's about to shoot all over his hand.

He watches as you roll to your other side, tits nearly spilling out of your bedclothes, and imagines the way they would feel under his hands. The way you would bounce under your clothes as he ravaged you, coating his dick in your slippery, soft, innocent little cunt, taking absolutely everything he'd ever wanted.

And Obi Wan explodes, trying to block what he can, but failing miserably and covering his hand and the screen with ropes of hot, white mess. He chokes back a groan, forcing himself not to wake half the palace and grunts quietly into the arm of his tunic as he finishes soaking the bed and himself in his own seed.

He pants, watching the mess dripping over your warm, clean, clothed form on the screen. His mouth is hanging open, and he closes it to swallow.

Your eyes are shut, expression peaceful. You've fallen asleep.

He's shaking and sweating, staring at your beautiful face when the shame overcomes him.

The worst thing about heat sickness - once it takes you, even if you slake your thirst, even if you cool your brow, even if your pulse stops pounding for the moment - it will inevitably happen again. 

--

A/N: Shoutout to @slinkygail who kindly encouraged me to work on my WIPs! 💜

And thank you as always to everyone who reads. Hope you liked this one-off. :) It's been bouncing around my drafts for a while. A situation I don't believe for one second that Obi Wan would actually find himself in, but was absolutely necessary to indulge myself.

[gilverrwrites]

Have we discussed Roman’s separated wife hooking up with Bruce Wayne? You and Bruce have always been cordial, so when Roman doxxes you, Bruce lets you stay at the Manor and cry on his shoulder until the wine bottle is empty. He’s so nice and his hand is so warm on your cheek and oh Lord, it’s bigger than your face and you can’t remember the last time you felt safe while a man was touching you. You try to make a move, but Bruce knows he’s overindulged you (partially to get info about Roman but he’ll feel guilty about it later), so he stops you…but promises he’ll be more than ready and willing when you’re in your right mind and decide you still want this. You wait anxiously the entirety of the next day, until Bruce shows up at your door in the sluttiest t-shirt and sweatpants you’ve ever seen, his ginormous hand finding its place on your face again while the other one is slipping under the hem of your shirt.

Slutty top? You've hit a nerve anon, cause now all I'm thinking about is Brucie in a slutty little crop top, like sir put that washboard away before I bite it! Honestly, feral for anyone of any shape and size in a crop top, just show me your belly, please. Yeah, that would work on me.

But to answer your question, no we have not discussed this but we certainly can!!!!

Like, I can say earnestly, when he invited you to stay with him, sleeping with you did not cross his mind; he was purely thinking about;

Helping you get out of a bad situation

Good for the Brucie Wayne image (so long as the press don't get wind of it until you've found somewhere permanent to move too)

(as mentioned) Chance to get info on Black Mask

But the moment you flash that perfectly poised smile, even though you’re clearly on the brink of tears, he's thinking ‘Uh oh. I'm in trouble.’

He never thought much of you while you were with Roman, if maybe a little bit sorry for you. The extent of your relationship was occasional networking with Bruce at events, and Batman peeking through your windows at night to check on you when Roman was at his worst or imprisoned.

It helps that he thought you were pretty.

But now, as he's getting to know you on a personal level, seeing that you're stronger than he'd thought, and smarter. You're letting down walls and actually relaxing, and in his domain at that! It stirs something within him.

And for you, like Roman and Bruce are the same age, from similar backgrounds, similar personas for the public (charming and rich) but it's crazy to see how different they really are.

When you talk, Bruce isn't just waiting for his turn to speak, he listens.

There's no coercion when you set a boundary, he just respects it. Which funnily enough makes you more willing to share. He's just so easy to trust.

When you ask about interesting pieces around his house, he doesn't brag about where it's from and what it costs. Instead, he tells you stories about his parents or his kids interacting with it.

He's funny, and respectful, not at all what you'd expected.

And did you mention handsome? Oh, he's very handsome. That dark hair and those blue eyes. The chiselled jaw and the dimples and he smells good too, you find that out after you bury your nose into his chest while he's carrying you to bed that first night. You're tipsy, and his house is a maze, he's just trying to help and not at all showing off his strength.

The same way he's just dressed so casually the following day when he comes to find you, this is what he always lounges around. He's totally not subtly flexing his glamour muscles as you open the door.

Now, Roman is by no means bad in bed. He's just, shall we say, selfish? He has a set way in life and sex that he expects you to live up to.

Bruce though? He's a giver. He can take, when appropriate, but right now, he knows what you need.

You need those big hands on your waist as he chases you into the bed with his mouth. You need them soothing your tired body, massaging all the stress out of your aching body. You need his thumb to rub circles into your inner thighs while he kisses, and sucks, and laps at your hot, wet sex. You need his long hard fingers pumping into that sweet little hole, again and again until you cum all over them.

And that is just the start.

But you know one other really important thing you need? Some goddamn aftercare.

He knows it straight away, shouldn’t have been surprised. But when your body immediately falls limp after he rolls off of you, when you look at him confused as he asks if you need anything he knows your life has been lacking kindness for so long that you barely even recognise when it's extended to you.

He's not good at the emotional stuff, at comforting words but he reasons that you probably don't need to hear it right now. Don't need to be reminded of your mistakes, of your past.

Instead, he pulls you into him, wrapping his warmth around you like a giant weighted blanket. Holding you until you accept his affection and melt into his arms.

Meanwhile, the False Facers can't breach Bruces security, can't get a good look into the Manor. Which means they don't know what you're doing there. But they know you're there, and that means Roman knows you're there.

And Romans not stupid, you sneaky, no good, selfish whore.

He gave you everything, and this is how you repay him? You nasty little bitch. And with Bruce Wayne of all people?

Don't get comfy, because the moment you step outside those gates, the second you let your walls down, he's going to rock your shit. You're going to pay for all the crap you've put him through, tenfold.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[darthannie]

assess and discuss

part three of thesis statement

(part II) (part I)

Pairing: professor!Jim x f!reader

Word count: 2,860

Warnings: 18+ please for the love of god, age gap (reader is 24, Jim is 43), fluffy, kissing, mentions of submission

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! Here's my gift to you. Sorry updates have been slow. I'm really trying! There's not really any smut in this one. It's all plot and fluff baby! I hope you enjoy.

It’s been a week since your’ve seen him and a week since you’ve spoken to him. You’ve been counting the days on your calendar as they went by. 

You skipped out on class yesterday, deciding you couldn’t face him just yet. But, there was no way of avoiding him today. That was one of the benefits of taking both of his seminars this term. Usually seeing him twice a week made getting up in the morning worth it. Now, it felt like a death sentence. 

He’s texted you since you last saw him. He asked how you were and if you’d thought about what he said to you. Then it was radio silence. In all honesty, you had thought about it and you wanted to take him up on it. Setting boundaries was important, you thought and that could only happen if you sat down and laid it all out. You felt you had to tell him in person. So here you were, on campus on a Friday morning, coffee in hand and ready to mention having that conversation. Having that conversation in the classroom was a bit uncooth, so you thought it better to ease into it. You didn’t want anyone suspecting anything. Not admin, not your classmates, not even Nadia but you knew that wasn’t an option. She was the first person to know what was going on. You told each other everything. 

You walked into an empty classroom and took your usual seat. After a few minutes you were finally all set up and were browsing on your laptop. Nadia arrived a couple minutes into you scrolling on Etsy. 

“Hey! I thought you fell off the face of the earth I haven’t heard from you.”

“Hey, Nadia. Sorry, I’ve just been kinda preoccupied.” In reality you had been isolating. The time you spent with Jim left you with a large weight on your conscience. Not only did you have your heavy course load to keep in mind, you had this force looming over you. Him. You had no idea what to make of it. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She was always genuine when she said things like this. She missed you and hated when you pulled away but she knew it was better to give you space. 

“God, yes, I need to talk about it.”

“Spill.” 

In a hushed voice you began. “We saw each other and we...”

“You and Jim?” Yiou nodded at her words. The excitement on her face was easy to place. She was thrilled for you. 

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Yes fuckin’ way.” 

“Is that why he cancelled class?”

“Yep.” 

“YOU’RE KIDDING.” Nadia’s eyebrows rose and she leaned forward as the door behind her opened up. Jim walked in wearing a white oxford shirt tucked into tailored pants. He looked rather put together, and you couldn’t help but swallow nernously. Your attraction to him was undeniable. 

Nadia turned to see who walked in and faced you again, covering her mouth, and noting that she was a bit too loud. 

“Oops,” she said. 

“Nadia…,” I replied, less of a warning and more of a suggestion to keep it cool.

“Good morning, ladies.” Jim nonchallantly addressed you and Nadia as he settled in. 

“Hi, Jim,” Nadia chirped, “Was everything alright last week?” She asked it innocently enough, but you knew she was trying to rustle your feathers. 

“Oh, yeah, just a family emergency.”

“Oh no, is everything alright?” Nadia elbowed your arm and smirked. You hit her arm and he turned around to face the two of you. 

“Yes, everything’s alright now. Just had to help my sister with her kids.”

“Right, well I’m glad to hear it’s everything is alright.” Nadia smiled at him politely. 

He smiled back and then turned his attention to you. He said, “And, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” Your skin felt hot. He looked nervous.

“Listen, I was reading over the piece you sent me and I have some suggestions. I think with a bit of work we, you, could submit for publication.” You had forgotten that you had even sent him your work. He reminded you to before you left his home and now you were glad that he did. 

“Really?”

He nodded. “See me after, we’ll go though it quickly.”

“Well, alright.” You sank into your seat and looked at Nadia. She gave you a knowing look as more stidents started to file in.

What followed was an hour and fourty-five minutes of avoidance. You participated as usual but there was no usual back and fort between the two of you. The bare minimum was what you wanted to give and it was what you achieved. 

Class ended and a couple peers stayed after to discuss their notes with Jim. You and Nadia milled about talking about going out later that night. You got distracted and watched as Jim talked to his students about their work. His passion for teaching was so apparent, it made you feel almost proud watching him. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention to Nadia again, agreeing to a time to meet for pres at a local bar before going dancing.

She left and the student who was talking to Jim left right behind her. Jim walked over to the door and looked through the window. There was no one in the hall. You were stood away from the door and as you began to speak about the essay you sent when you felt his hands grab your face and pull you towards him. He laned a small kiss before you pushed him away slightly. 

“Cameras,” you whisper shouted.

“Old building. There are none in this room.” 

You stared at him, sedated by his kiss. When his words registered it was your turn to pull him in, wrapping an arm around his neck and kissing him hard. He walked you backward until your back hit the wall. Jim’s hardening cock pressed against you. He pulled away and clearned this throat, realising he needed to calm down.

“You, um, wanted to talk to me about my work?” The eye contact you held was sharp, intimate. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” he stepped back and walked towards his things, grabbing a manila folder and handing it to you. My annotations and comments are all in there. All five essays. They’re good. Really damn good.”

“Thank you. I’m excited to look over them.”

“I look forward to reading the next drafts.” 

You stared at each other for a moment before you both developed smiles. You were almost to the point of giggiling. This was fun. It had never occured to you that what you two were doing could be fun. Genuine fun. A small laugh escaped your lips and you looked towards the ground. 

“Jim, we need to talk about this.” You looked back up at him, hopeful that he would be receptive. 

“Come over tonight. We’ll be able to talk all about it.” Jim chuckled and got close to you lifted your chin so your eyes met his. 

“I’m seeing Nadia tonight. We’re going out.”

“See me before you go out then. We’ll have a good time.”

“Doing what?” You tried to bait him by getting close to his face, your lips almost meeting his.

“Just talking.”

“Right. Just talking.” You rolled your eyes and he moved his hand to caress your neck. 

“I’m serious. We’re just talking,” his thumb smoothed over your cheek as he continued, “I’m not going any further until we decide on what exactly this is and how we’re going to go about it. Is that okay?”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you replied, “Yes.”

Then, rather nonchalantly, he replied, “Good girl.” He pecked you on the lips and pulled away from you, turning to grab his things. 

“I have office hours now, so I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you later.” He gave you a smile and walked towards the door. He paused right as his hand reached the handle and turned back to you, rushing over and kissing you again. 

“Bye,” he whispered against your lips.

You kissed him again and let out a laugh, “I’ll text you.”

He kissed you once more and replied, “Good.” He turned again and, this time, allowed himself to exit the room. 

Later that night, you knocked on his door wearing a black halter top and short skirt. Around your waist was a thin silver chain belt that laid perfectly over the dark red skirt. You and Nadia had decided to go to a local club for “Latin Night”, which meant Ireland’s finest (you and Nadia included) would be drunkenly attempting to keep up with Bad Bunny’s cadance. After a couple drinks your words weren’t as coordinated as your hips. Nadia left the club with an old flame, but made sure you safely got into a car you called. Now, here you were, sobering up in front of Jim’s door. Hoping he opened it soon because you didn’t feel like waiting on the club’s bathroom line. 

The door opened and he was still wearing the clothes you saw him in earlier. “Are you drunk?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“I’m halfway to sober. Can I use the bathroom?” You held in a giggle, you didn’t know why you wanted to laugh. Perhaps part of it was the fact you imagined kissing him, but the idea of him tasting the liquor on you made you stop. 

He moved out of the way and you practivally ran by him and towards the bathroom.

“Do you have mouthwash?”, you shouted as you jogged to the bathroom and closed the door. 

“Yes, I do. In the cabinet. Why do you need mouthwash?”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

After a couple minutes of making yourself presentable again, you exited the bathroom and made your way towards Jim. 

“So, how was your night out w-“ You cut him off with a hard kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair.

He pulled away after kissing you back, “Is that why you wanted the mouthwash?” You nodded and hummed “mhm” before trying to kiss him again. He pulled back. “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, you’re not sober.” He walked into the kitchen and poured you a glass of water. “Drink.” He placed it down on the counter in front of you. You looked between him and the glass. He pushed the glass towards you. “I said, drink.”

You smirked and grabbed the glass, chugging half of it. “Happy?” 

He leaned with both his hands bracing on the counter. “We’re not having the conversation we need to have until the morning. I need you one hundred percent sober.”

“Fine.” 

“Finish your water.” 

“Jim, I’m okay, seriously.”

He walked around the bar in the kitchen and grabbed the glass on his way towards you. He held the glass against your lips. 

“Drink.”, he whispered. You placed your hand on top of his and tilted the glass. You drank every last drop. 

“Good girl. Now come, you can’t be comfortable in that dress and those shoes.” He went to the dresser in his bedroom and dug around for some pajama pants and a t-shirt for you to wear. You followed him and leaned against the door frame. 

“Do you like taking care of me?” You tilted your head, challenging him.

A blush started to grow on his cheeks. He placed the clothes on the bed near you and stood back. You put your bag down on the floor, kicked off your shoes, and started the take off your shirt. “You don’t want to do that in the bathroom?” He couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” You finished taking of your shirt and you reached over to grab the t-shirt he picked out for you. It was a Fleetwood Mac tee. You pulled it over your head and removed your skirt before grabbing the black lounge pants he gave you. He watched your every move, studying how steady your movements were and how you lost your balance slightly while putting the pants on. 

“You’re staying over, if that wasn’t clear already.” 

“How chivelrous.” 

“I’m serious. Do you need anything else before getting into bed?”

“I want to wash my face.” You started walking towards the bathroom. “Do you have any face wash?”

“In the shower, love.”

“God, of course you fucking do.”

As much as he wished he could have that conversation with you, he loved seeing this side of you. He found you curt and pointed in the best way possible. Upon your arrival back to the bedroom you found him fixing up the bed, more specifically your side of the bed. He had set a bottle of water and pain killers on the bedside table. For when you wake up, he said. 

You hadn’t expected him to take this much care of you. You think he found pleasure in it, and yet he ignored your question about it when you asked. You got into bed without a word and he followed on the other side. 

“Thanks for setting up my emergency morning kit.”

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled, “I don’t want you to suffer in the morning.”

“Well, you know, I don’t get hangovers. I think it’s impossible for me.”

“Oh, that cannot be true.” He turned on his side to face you. 

You stayed on your back, looking up at the ceiling, “No, it’s true, I never do. I guess I never drink enough to get hungover. And I have people forcing me to drink water constantly. Not just you, Nadia too.”

He hummed in understanding. Silence covered you both, only your staggered breath could be heard as you gave into rigid stillness. The reality of what was happening was starting to set in. You were fucking your professor and now he was taking care of you after a night out. “What the fuck am I doing?”, you thought. The moral implications of what was happening seemed more real now that you felt him reach for your hand. He squeezed it to try and get your attention. It was only now you realize that he had been saying your name repeatedly, trying to get your attention. It startled you and you pulled your hand away. 

“What?”, you sounded scared when you asked. 

“Tell me what’s running through your head.” He sat up now, trying to add a bit of urgency to his soft command.

Your mouth opened and no words came out. You shut it.

“I need to hear what’s going through your head.” He took a chance and reached out to caress your cheek. You leaned into his hand.

“I just,” you started, “I feel weird. Like I’m dirty and doing something wrong. I’ve never been with someone older than me and I’ve never been cared for or told what to do. It’s all new to me. Too new. But, the issue is that I love it. I want it more than anything.”

“Come here,” he gestured to his lap, “and don’t worry, no funny business. Just come here.”

You stratled him and met him face to face. He held your face in his hands. “Look at me,” you tried your hardest not to, “Hey, hey, look at me. I need your eyes on me.” You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them and being drawn in by his. 

“I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you feel uncomforable with me in the bed tonight just say the word and I’ll sleep on the couch. I… I understand your apprehension. But give us- this a chance.”

You took in his words before nodding slowly, “Okay.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want this. Really, really bad.” You started to move your hips and his hands left your face, and firmly stopped your hips.

“Not now, this isn’t what this is about.”

You looked down at your arms, now crossed over your body, feeling slightly repremanded. If he didn’t want sex from you all the time, then what did he want?

He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered only for you to hear even though not another soul ever would, “I want you to submit to me willingly. Not because you feel that you have to.”

You felt your eyes water and a single tear fell. You pulled back and quickly wiped it away. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it. It’s a lot.”

“It feels like more than hooking up with my professor now.”

“Good. It should.”

You pressed a soft kiss against his lips, “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course, love.” 

You got off of his lap and he reached to turn off the only lamp on in his room, the one on his bedside. He laid down and opened his arms for you. You fit perfectly against him. You laid a hand on his chest and got comfortable in the crook of his neck. He held as if you would run away. 

“Thank you, Jim.”

“For?”, he stroked your arm before wrapping his hand around it. 

“For caring.”

[lunasfics]

What We Deserve - Tim Drake

summary: Love is a foreign concept to her. Love is transactional. It’s pain and it’s setbacks and she doesn’t need it. Love is not something she is incapable of feeling nor is it something she is incapable of receiving. She does not need it. 

pairings: Tim Drake x f!reader

warnings: mentions of childhood physical abuse, alcholism, self sabatoge, angst angst angst, issues of self worth, mention of toxic/abusive relationships, suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

a/n: please read the warnings of this fic! it covers some heavy topics as well as flawed characters. multiple triggering topics are discussed and if any of the above topics trigger you please please do not read! i'm trying to broaden my horizons when it comes to writing, i'm also experimenting with different povs, i hope you enjoy this read, if you or anyone you know are going through anything mentioned in this fic please seek the following resources for help: domestic violence, suicide hotline, drug & alcohol abuse rehab site

reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Her memories from childhood had a complicated occupation in her mind. A considerable amount has been blocked off by now. Whether it’s because of the drinking or because of the trauma, she couldn’t tell you. Though if anyone asked, Who gives a shit? The fuckers are dead. It doesn’t matter now. 

Love is a foreign concept to her. Love is transactional. It’s pain and it’s setbacks and she doesn’t need it. She’s never needed parental love. She never got it, she’s never needed it. Love was foreign to her because she didn’t want it near her. Love is not something she is incapable of feeling nor is it something she is incapable of receiving. She does not need it. 

When she catches herself crying for them, for her father and her mother, she forces herself to look at the cigarette bud shaped scars on her arms, the scars and scratches that litter her body. The only feeling they deserve from me is anger. 

She reaches for the bottle so she can forget again. 

She remembers the night she met Red Robin. She remembers being buzzed, not a deviation from her typical state. She remembers planning to die. She remembers her feet dangling over the edge, staring down into the dark alley somewhere in Crime Alley. She’s forgotten how she’s gotten there by now. She remembers how she laughed at the thought of what they would do to her body, how they’d probably take her organs and leave the rest of her to rot. Fitting. Shit life, shit death.

“You know, just cause you’re high up doesn’t mean you’re safe out here.” 

She didn’t turn around. Her words were slurred. “If that bat fucker sent you you can just fuck right off. Just walk away. I’ll be out of everyone’s hair within the hour.” 

“I’m not in contact with the ‘bat fucker’ right now. Why don’t you just scoot away from the edge and we can chat.” His tone was blank. Void of panic. She supposed that shouldn’t be a surprised considering his occupation. 

She turned to look at him, eyes narrowing, she was expecting scrutiny, some form of condescension. All she saw were the blank white eyes of his mask. 

She’d had a run in with the bat before, the intensity of his gaze, the tightness of his lips and the weaponization of peoples’ fear made her decide she hated them all. 

“Maybe mind your fucking business.” She snapped. 

“Let me take you home and I’ll be on my way.” 

She scoffed. “I’ll just kill myself tomorrow then.” 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Not here.” 

“I’ll find you regardless.” 

“Fuck off. Seriously. Go fight Penguin or some shit and just let me die.” She wanted to hit something out of frustration when her voice cracked. She was angry. She wanted to cry. She wanted to feel her feelings and free herself once and for all. She would be damned if she let this bat variant shitface see her cry. 

“I don’t care for Penguin right now. I care for you.” 

“Bullshit. You don’t know me.” 

“I will by the time I get you home.” 

She stared at him, in her drunken state she resolved that he would not leave her alone anytime soon. 

He walked her home that night. 

He checked in on her every day after that, there was no escaping the man. 

Of course a friendship grew, despite her many efforts towards resistance. Of Course she patched him up when he came to check on her, despite her constant complaints about the blood stains in the carpet. Of course he came to check on her, injuries and all. She didn’t know why he kept coming back. She decided soon enough she didn’t mind it. Slowly but surely, Tim Drake helped her get her start to get her shit together. 

That was until she met him. 

Maybe she was finally starting to get her life together. Maybe it wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was just a temporary feel of structure before she reverted back to the bottle like she always did. 

Maybe he was her soulmate. Maybe he just gave her the right kind of attention at the wrong time. 

Deep down the only person she wanted to call her soulmate was Tim. Tim wasn’t perfect, but he was so, so good. He destroyed himself every day to make the world a better place. She destroyed herself every day to try and cure the anger she carried with her everywhere she went. With him, the suffocating weight on her chest felt just a little bit lighter. With him, she could breathe. 

She refused to place the weight of her burdens onto him, not when he already had his own. She refused to delude herself into thinking that someone like Tim would ever stoop to her level, would ever look at her in all her fucked up glory and decide that she was worth it. 

Maybe it was because he deserves better. Maybe she just doesn’t deserve him. 

We accept the love we think we deserve.

As smart of a man Timothy Drake is, he has never fully been able to place when it all started. The lines of time have been blurred for him for years now. He remembers meeting the guy for the first time. He remembers not liking him at all, he remembers how she looked at him. He remembers how big beautiful eyes admired the sorry excuse of a man that stood in front of him. He remembers going home that night and resolving to silence in favor of her happiness. 

He remembers meeting her. He’d been on patrol that night, he’d found her on a rooftop. She was bumming a cigarette, a half empty bottle of jack sat beside her as her legs dangled off the edge. Her eyes were heavy, hair up and in wisps of disarray. There was a breeze that night. 

He remembers taking her away from the edge, finding that her risky placement was intentional. He remembers deciding that night that he didn’t want to leave her. He remembers how she accepted him for everything he is. How she didn’t bat an eye when he’d revealed his identity. How she saw both versions of him as one, never valuing one more than the other. How she patched him up and told him to rest because she really did care.

He remembers when he realized he’d fallen in love with her. He remembers hearing her laugh one night and deciding it’d be all he needed for the rest of his life. He remembers every detail of her face but he can never bring himself to look at it when he’s there. 

He remembers the first time she called in the late hours of the night. The first time he picked her up and held her while she cried. He remembers how he felt when he watched her pick apart every detail about herself, Why, Tim? What is so fucking repulsive about me? What did I do for him to treat me like this?

He’d always say the same thing. That he was an idiot, a piece of shit. That she wasn’t the problem, he was. Everytime he managed to build her back up again, she’d run back to him, only for him to rip her apart, again and again.  

He remembers every time he told her to leave him. He remembers every single broken, “I can’t.” 

There are lots of things Tim doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that he’s the only person she is willing to be this vulnerable with. He doesn’t know that deep down all she wants is him. He doesn’t know just how much of her heart he truly occupies. 

There are also a lot of things that Tim knows. He knows she deserves better. He knows she refuses to let herself be happy. He knows she doesn’t think she deserves good love. He knows he loves her. He knows he can’t have her.

We accept the love we think we deserve.