#if it’s not obvious these are Not in the order I drew them

[bl0xware]

taking a rest

[olderthannetfic]

This is going to be an obvious question to anyone who's familiar with the language, but how does one type in Chinese? All the languages I've studied have had alphabetic writing systems, so to me foreign language typing is just assigning different letters on the keyboard and hitting them in order the same as English.

I imagine there's some way of entering the elements of each glyph with a command that tells it where to place it? I tried googling and just got a bunch of articles about how autocorrect can suggest Chinese characters when a user types the words in pinyin, but this sounds like a laborious and clunky system for someone who reads and writes Chinese fluently, and it wouldn't nessecarily exist on all devices.

--

(same anon wondering about typing Chinese characters) I also figure that if converting from pinyin was the primary or only way to get digital Chinese characters, then a lot more online spaces would just use pinyin in the first place and save everyone the trouble. The people writing multichapter fanfics or chatting away on social media in Chinese definitely have a fluent way to type their language that probably doesn't involve converting the entire text from an unrelated writing system, but these articles just aren't telling me what it is.

Ahahaha. Anon... phonetic entry is so much easier than other methods.

No, nobody enters characters while typing by picking radicals and where to place them. There are ways to look up an unfamiliar character that use radicals. There are also apps that let you try to draw something by hand, then attempt to figure out what you drew. But, again, that's for unfamiliar things, not typing up a story.

Computers were developed by English speakers and others with alphabets. Phonetic entry would probably be easiest anyway, but with the early infrastructure geared towards it, it's definitely easier.

There was an interesting phenomenon in Japanese (I'm not sure about Chinese) where The Youth™ were using fewer and fewer complex or less common kanji in... I want to say the 80s or 90s. The usual suspects moaned about the death of literacy...

Then cell phone/computer typing came along. If you knew the word, you didn't have to remember every single detail of how to write it. And people responded by using hella kanji all over the place, including lots of much rarer characters that a person would often recognize on sight but not remember perfectly enough to write by hand with confidence.

English spelling is tricky, but just learning 26 letters and then using them in a way that makes sense to a native speaker of [whatever] isn't. People are going to know pinyin. It's not a hardship to use it.

[0039pf-third-blog-hooray]

explaining! my main goal was to make them different and colorful. everything else is secondary. i didn't really try to make them realistic, i didn't really try to make them historical. this is character design, right? so, the main thing is that everyone is readable and unique among others in their environment. if you don't confuse anyone, then i've made it, hehe!

i made them colorful because, firstly, i just like it that way, and secondly, it's customary to exaggerate book characters for illustrations so that the image is brighter and more recognizable. if i were drawing as if for a movie/series, i would have done it differently. but this is a book. and, as i like to say, am i studying to be a theater artist for nothing... 🤫

also i was laughing so hard at the song from bratz that i used for speedpaint because it was too funny to finish the work with. enjoy JHSJSHSHDH

a few words about each one, not in the order in the picture:

i had an idea to draw aramis a popular type of lovelock at that time - with a ribbon of his beloved's favorite color. this hairstyle was also worn together with pearl in the left ear. i learned about it from another artist, and then i read about it on the internet in more detail. and when i sketched him for the first time, i drew it exactly like that, but this time i already came to the idea that, unfortunately, he would hardly wear such a hairstyle in reality. in the first book he hides the woman's identity until the end, when everything has long been obvious to everyone 😭 so there would hardly be any hint in his appearance about his lady. fanfact, his heel is slightly higher than the others. aramis, the man you are 💅 and i also really ask you to take a closer look at aramis's hairstyle, i left a tiny detail there. it's right there in plain sight and it's hidden in the styling!!

porthos is associated with warm colors for me, because he's such a silly, but together with aramis and d'artagnan it turned into one spot. so i went with the second option - blue, because i really liked that he appeared in sky blue before d'artagnan when they galloped after the duke, even though it was already in the second book. he turned out so charming, wahaha.

i think olive is the perfect choice for athos in the first book. depressive, long-term drunkard, but a nobleman undercover. matching? also, i have a headcanon that athos is this much 🤏 shorter than d'artagnan and aramis. just because it's funny. and those two are about the same, because it was specified in the book that they have the same size

d'artagnan is simple, yellow-brown - a young provincial, even the collar does not really match the shirt. where will he get the money for a collar for each shirt... but he's the only one with a bright feather, the mc after all! if you look closely, the feathers of all the others do not stand out so much. that's how it was intended. btw, his shirt is a little yellowing, if you look closely, you can see it

i really like it when all the characters has their own little things. their own collars, their own way of wearing jackboots, their own little details of the sleeves. i drew simply, but put my soul into it. i tried to put a lot into the form, both in general and in the details, and although i could explain absolutely everything, i would like you to look closely at it yourself 💝

[farfromharry]

What the fuck? | Lando Norris

Transformers au

Summary: A successful date turns into a living nightmare when Y/N comes face to face with the alien living in Lando’s garage. Oh, and it also doubles as his car too…?

w/c 3155

a/n i rewatched transformers the other day and this came to mind idk, its pretty random but i had to get it out of my head

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Lando Norris was hot. 

For months he had been coming into your work for coffee. He was that customer that every worker fawned over. There was a cat fight every time the bell above the door sounded and he stepped inside. Everyone wanted to be the one to take his order. He was polite to everyone, as he should be. There was only one person who he flirted with though. Y/N. 

On the off chance that everyone else was busy and she finally got the opportunity to serve him, they chatted for ages. He was constantly asking her questions that had obvious answers, just so he could talk to her for longer. They talked about their days, he complimented her and she always drew a little heart by his name when handing him his cup.

Really it was only a matter of time before he asked her out. 

For weeks he had been building up the courage. Coming into the cafe and pretending to stare at the menu until she was free. He saw how they bickered when he came in. It would have done wonders for his ego had he not been trying to impress someone specific. She hadn’t picked up on it though. Y/N thought it was just luck that everyone else was busy. If only she knew that he was there for her– he didn’t even like coffee.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” She was clearly caught off guard. “With me, I mean.”

Nervously, her eyes darted to the side, where an older lady stood watching them. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her around. He assumed she was the manager or something of the sorts. His mouth formed an O shape. Now wasn’t a good time for them to talk about this.

“Your total is £3.86.” 

The man tapped his card, nodded at her and then moved off to the side to wait for his drink. There was no mention of his offer when she called his name to collect, but as he was leaving he did notice the number and the smiley face jotted down on the side of his cup. A laugh bubble in his throat. The little minx. 

When a text from a random number came through to Y/N’s phone a day later, she grinned to herself. Lando was persistent, she would give him that. 

It took all of 2 minutes to spill it to her roommate and given how often she talked about the hot customer that came in practically every day, she insisted she go for it. Who was she to turn down a man that looked like that and was very clearly interested in her? She was very quick to say yes. 

He picked her up from her apartment, his pricey Porsche practically sparkling under the street lights. She was in awe. The dark green exterior was gorgeous, to die for. It must have been cleaned recently, but he did seem like the type to take care of his car. He was leaning against it when she emerged from her building, his arms crossed, stretching the material of his button up tightly over his chest and his arms. Those arms… She had no idea how she was going to survive this date.

But she did and she had a great time. He was funny, charming and a mighty good kisser. They could barely keep their hands off of each other. In the car on the way back, his hand rested on her leg, bordering on dangerous with how close it was to the hem of her dress. She loved it though and as soon as the car was stopped she was the first to launch herself at him. He was slightly caught off guard, but quickly kissed her back. 

She didn’t expect him to push her away. Fear filled her. The idea that she had read something wrong or gotten mixed signals was horrifying. It must have been written all over her face. His hand settled on her cheek, silently asking her to look at him. When she did he was smiling. 

“I’m not rejecting you.” That was a good start at least. He pulled the keys from the ignition and winked at her. “Just think we should head inside.”

The dread that had once been written all over her face was quickly replaced by lust. With how he looked in the moonlight right now, curls falling over his forehead, facial hair he was too stubborn to shave and just the right amount of buttons undone on his shirt, there was no way she was going to turn down that offer. “Lead the way, Norris.” 

When she stepped out of the car the wind bit at her face, the chill sent down her spine forcing her to wrap her arms around herself. How she would love a bit of Lando’s body heat mixing with hers right now. Even just when his hand touched the small of her back she immediately felt warmer. 

Like the gentleman he tried so hard to be, he unlocked the front door and let her in first. Only when she stood in the doorway awkwardly did he remember she had never been in his house before; she had no idea where she was going. 

Lando laughed. “Right. My bad.”

After closing the door behind him, he laced his fingers with hers tugging her in the direction of the couch in the living room. He sat down first, sinking into the couch, legs spread and head leaning on the back, eyes staring up at her with a silent invitation. He looked edible. Any normal person would probably see the empty space beside him and claim that, but not Y/N. The most inviting place for her right now was that of his lap. Why waste time? 

Apparently straddling him was a good idea. Helped set the mood. Lando enjoyed it anyway. Big hands came to hold her sides, the smirk sneaking onto his face annoyingly attractive. 

“Hi,” he whispered. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, another finding its way into the long curls at the back of his neck. Not yet tugging, but considering it. “Hello.” 

Neither of them were sure who initiated it. One minute she was practically drooling over the way he was gazing up at her, eyes dilated and lips slightly parted, the next he was mentally thanking whatever miracles had allowed him to be in this moment. Soft lips met his, stealing his breath. Their noses bumped. Teeth clashed. Lando never wanted it to end. 

A loud crash from somewhere in the house stole her attention. Their lips briefly separated. As much as she would have liked to keep kissing him, the noise was loud and distracting. “What was that?” she asked, trying to ignore the way his thumb stroked her cheek. He was incredibly intoxicating in the best way. 

He tried to shake it off. Of course he had heard it, but he knew exactly what the culprit was and really didn’t want to share. “I didn’t hear anything.” In his mind, denial was the best way to go, followed by distraction. The perfect distraction would be his lips in this case.

Gently, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding her face back to his. Their lips connected again and she sighed heartily against his mouth. He smiled briefly, but it disappeared as soon as he found himself lost in the kiss again. His other hand was on her hip, keeping her pressed tightly to his body. He didn’t want even a centimetre of space between them. If anyone were to look at them they wouldn’t know where he started and she ended. The way she kissed was intoxicating. 

Bang. 

There was that noise again. Y/N pulled back, but Lando wasn’t done. Swollen lips found her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her skin. Her eyes fluttered but she quickly snapped herself out of it. Letting herself get distracted by his touch was exactly what he wanted. Whether he liked it or not, she was going to get to the bottom of that noise. 

When she climbed out of his lap like a woman on a mission, his heart dropped. He had to keep her out of the garage at all costs. 

“Y/N, hey. What are you doing?” The look on his face was far from calm. It would be obvious to anyone in a 10 foot range that he was hiding something. And if anyone was listening, she was praying it wasn’t something weird because he was just so hot. 

“Tell me what that noise is.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an order. 

Looking right at him was a face of fury. She had just wanted a good night, a normal date for once in her life. Lando was supposed to be a good one. The night had been going so well and now here she was. The man visibly deflated. Clearly she was upset, annoyed– a whole mix of different emotions, but none of them good. Maybe coming clean was the best idea. 

A sigh, then a longing look at the Porsche beside them.

The next time he looked at her it was with such desperation that her chest actually ached for him. He didn’t know what to do. “Look, what I’m gonna say is…” How was he supposed to put it? There was no sane way of coming clean here. “It’s crazy. But I need you to know I am telling the truth. If you promise not to freak out I’ll show you.”

Understandably, she was hesitant. There was something in his eyes though that told her she could trust him on this. “Okay.”

With a nod, he tapped the roof of the car twice. “Show her.”

She wasn’t sure what she was witnessing was real. Right before her eyes the Porsche in front of her shifted from a car into something that resembled a… person. It even blinked, waved at her. She thought she was losing her mind. Surely this was some illusion, a trick of the light or something he used to impress women. When she turned to look at him, he looked completely unbothered, like this was something he was totally used to.

“What the fuck?” she yelled, eyes blown wide as she stared at the car turned… thing that she couldn’t even find a logical explanation for. Had she taken a drug that she didn’t know about, or maybe her world was turning upside down? Either way, she sort of felt nauseous. Lando’s hand was quick to come up and cover her mouth when she screamed again. The last thing he needed was his neighbours getting worried that someone was being murdered in his garage. 

Wide eyes were frantically darting all over the place, trying to conjure up a reasonable explanation for whatever the fuck was happening. 

Lando was just trying to soothe her. “Listen to me, I need you to calm down.”

That was a rich suggestion. Who was he to tell her to calm down? It wasn’t everyday someone saw a literal car transform into something almost human. Her chest was heaving, clearly startled, scared out of her mind. Maybe there were better ways he could have broken this news to her. 

Just as he thought he might be starting to make progress, the robot opened its mouth and sent her spiraling all over again. “Hello.” It even waved. 

Lando cursed, shooting the Porsche quite a harsh glare. Then he placed his attention back on Y/N, placing his hands on her arms in an effort to keep her focused on him. “Breathe with me. Come on.” 

It took a while, but eventually she managed to match his breathing. Her mind was still racing, but she was definitely more relaxed. He smiled. 

“Good. You feeling better?”

She let out a breath. “I think so. But can you please explain what the hell is going on?” She looked desperate. He was starting to feel guilty for dropping this on her. 

The thing is, he didn’t really know himself. Months ago, Lando had been going through a crisis and thought the best way to fix it was to buy a run down version of one of his dream cars. Then he would fix it up, make it all shiny and new again. Only, one day had entered his garage to find it was exactly how he pictured it in his mind. He had paused, stared at it blankly for a few seconds and then it had done it for the first time. The car, his car, literally transformed into some sort of robot. It even spoke to him, assured him he was harmless. At no point did he explain why or how he was here, and Lando had never really asked. 

“Um, well, he’s an Autobot, from space.” It was a shitty explanation, one that did nothing to make her feel better. This thing was an alien and Lando was standing here acting like this was normal. “He’s harmless, I swear. His name’s Mirage.” He added that extra bit of information like it would make everything better. 

The next thing either of them knew she was hitting the group with quite the thump. Faintly she might have heard Lando’s panicked gasp, but she wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

When her eyes fluttered open she assumed it was a few hours later. It was darker now outside and she was laying in an unfamiliar living room. She groaned, rubbing at her head that was throbbing slightly— probably from how hard she hit the floor. Lando was by her side the second he realised she was awake.

“Hey, gave us quite the scare there. Feeling okay?”

She smiled softly, rather happy with how attentive he was being for a first date. “Yeah. I had such a crazy dream,” she laughed, “your car—“ Her brain seemed to suddenly catch up to what he’d said, her brow furrowing and her eyes darting to him. “Wait, who’s us?” 

He smiled sheepishly. There was a tap on the window. Part of her wanted to ignore it, but another part of her was desperate to know if what she’d just witnessed was real. Even if it was terrifying. This time he didn’t try to stop her, just let her sit up and peer around the arm of the couch to look out the window. The moment she noticed was obvious. Her body went rigid. “Oh my god, it was real!” 

His laughter was strained. This was the last way he thought this first date was going to turn out. She probably thought the same thing. The only problem was that even if she never wanted to see him again, he had to make sure she kept his secret. Unfortunately she was going to have to stick around. 

“Look, about this whole thing… you can’t tell anyone.”

She scoffed. “Lando, you’ve just shown me an alien and you expect me to keep quiet?”

A frown crept onto his face. If he didn’t think he could trust her, he wouldn’t have told her the truth. He would have made something up to throw her off the scent. But things had been going well and she seemed like the kind of person that could keep a secret if she knew it was important. This was the most important thing in the world to Lando. 

“No, Y/N, I’m serious.” His eyes were pleading with her. “Please, if anyone finds out about this I don’t know what they’d do to him. He left his planet to escape war, what do you think is gonna happen if people find out about this?”

It was understandable. Her fear was clouding her rational judgement. Once she managed to get her breathing under control, she felt like she could think more clearly. Lando’s words meant more sense. It wasn’t fair to ruin someone’s life because she was scared. 

He could see her start to calm down.

“Okay.” She nodded. “I won’t tell.”

Lando let out a breath and his whole body sagged. The relief he was feeling was blatant. “Thank you.”

Silence settled between them. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable per say, but neither of them were sure what to say. It was a weird situation. Certainly not one people found themselves in every day, or ever for that matter. She didn’t know how to handle it. No one knew about Lando’s secret. Not even his closest friends. This was something he hadn’t had to deal with before, he didn’t know what to do or what to say. 

“Do you, um, want to meet him properly?” Maybe if she could actually talk to him, see what he was like, she would understand. At least he hoped so. 

The look on her face was hard to read. Clearly she was weighing out the pros and cons of meeting an alien. If Lando had been given that choice when he and Mirage had first met, he probably would have panicked too, probably even ran away. On the brightside, she had someone by her side to make this whole thing a little less stressful. He didn’t have that back then. He sure would have liked to. 

“Okay.”

A sigh passed his lips. “He’s friendly, really.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but Lando was already taking her hand to guide her outside. Uncertainty was drowning her, but he seemed so sure. The thing– Mirage, she guessed– was waiting patiently outside to greet her. Upon first rational glance he seemed rather polite actually. She was surprised. 

Lando felt like a parent introducing his child to someone. “Say hello.” Gently he nudged her forward. He knew his car well and he wouldn’t be on anything but his best behaviour. 

“Um, hi there.” An awkward wave followed. 

The man tried to stifle his laugh but considering the glare she shot his way, he suspected she might have heard it. 

Mirage sort of smiled. “Hello.” He held out his hand, a hand shake being a gesture that Lando had taught him in a bid to make him more used to people. 

Her eyes were wide. Nonetheless she took his… hand, and shook it. Her head was spinning. “This is fucking crazy,” she whispered.

Lando was beaming, his grin stretching from one ear to the other. He whispered right back. “I know, right.” 

Looking at him now, she couldn’t believe she used to think he was just a normal guy that had become a regular at her job. “You’re, like, the coolest guy I’ve ever met.”

He really liked the sound of that. The compliment literally went straight to his head and he had no shame about it. “So, does that mean there’s gonna be a second date?” 

She laughed. “I’m about to propose, so.”

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[drefear]

Imagine reader artist, who loves to draw Miguel. And the other day she's just drawing naked Miguel's body. He saw it and just smirks and say: "I've got bigger than that" or "I could show/pose for accuracy"

TW: raunchy smut, Dom!miguel, fem reader, smut with no plot.

A/N: I wrote half of this while at work and a little drunk. So here ya go. Also currently in the process of writing a part two.

Miguel’s face filled your sketchbook, his back in his spider suit, his mask, every angle you could find him at. You often sat in his office for hours while he did reports, sketching him and drawing him. You loved using different mediums and colors, giving him new features and styles. You specifically loved practicing drawing his broad body and sculpted as-

Ahem. Legs.

Yes, ok, fine, you had a small crush on your boss, whatever, no big deal.

You would purposefully finish all of your work as fast as possible so you could sit back and draw him. And because you weren’t loud or annoying, and everything was always done on time and orderly, he let you.

But one mission in particular made him stressed out, and as you watched him filling out data about the anomaly he’d just captured, he glitched his suit down his torso and injected himself with that mysterious green liquid, entrancing you for those glorious few seconds.

It was very obvious he had a nice body, duh. But you never let your mind go too far in imagining him out of his suit, scared to go into a territory you couldn’t back out of.

And now you did, drawing his torso and pecks, shading his abs, and this got you curious about more.

Lower.

Biting your lip, you sat in the cafeteria a few days later. You purposefully sat with your back to a wall, making sure no one could sneak up on you and see what you were drawing, as you drew him laying down. His arms splayed behind his head, face relaxed, as you defined his leg muscles. As you finished the piece of art, the only area you’d avoided was his groin.

And now you stared at the empty area of art, knee bouncing from anxiety about how you were supposed to draw this. You had no reference for him. Yes, you’d seen dicks before, obviously. You lived in a universe with unrestricted internet access, so it’s not like you’d never been around the block, but here you were, blushing like a 15 year old just because of a dick.

Drawing and then erasing and drawing, you repeated the process a few times before you heard someone click their tongue in front of you. You’d been so consumed by what you were doing, you didn’t even feel your spider senses or hear them come close.

Miguel stood with an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so jumpy?” He asked and you snatched the book in front of you to your chest, stuttering some bullshit answer about too much caffeine. He just nodded and continued giving you a new order.

You got up from your seat and moved to follow him to his cold, dark lair area. As you were about to step onto his platform, you tripped and your hands flew out to stabilize your fall. As you did, the notebook flew across the floor and slid as your vision blurred from how fast you’d collapsed, getting up slowly and rolling your shoulders. You reached to where the sketch book had fallen, but it was no longer there.

No.

NO.

It was between his fingers, as he flipped through the pages slowly, eyeing your work with his brows furrowed, focused. You jumped towards him and he just turned his back, making you feel like you ran into a wall. You reached around him and he webbed your wrist to the table beside you, still not tearing his eyes from your work.

“Stop, that’s private! Give it back!” You shouted and he rolled his eyes briefly.

“It’s all drawings of me, I think I’m allowed to see-“ and his words stopped as he flipped to the newest page.

The nude drawing of him.

You gulped as his expression became unreadable, stoic, and your eyes flashed between the art and him. “I-I was just practicing forms and poses-“

“It’s… inaccurate.” He spoke lowly before your eyes blinked for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He walked to you and stood tall, bending down slightly to stare directly into your eyes. His mouth turned up at the ends and his eyes glittered with something you’d never seen in him before.

Turning the book back to you and showing you your own drawing, he smirked deeper.

“I’m much bigger.” His eyes were almost challenging you, making your blood run ice cold, and you felt his hands yank your body against his. “Do you want to see for reference?”

And then his watch made a loud sound, Lyla popping up to explain some anomaly on earth number whatever. He groaned and turned to walk out. “I’ll be back once this is done. Don’t go anywhere because When I do return, we’re continuing where we left off.”

Then he was gone and you stood, mouth agape from the whole exchange. You thought it might take a while for him to capture this anomaly, so You’d decided to go back to your own universe in preparation, showering and fixing yourself up. You bit your nail nervously as you thought about it all. Was he serious? No way, right…?

As you stood in the bathroom mirror, the sound of a portal opening cut through your mind like a knife, making your body rush into your living room. You gripped the towel tight around your torso as you saw Miguel walk out of the colorful dimension behind him and into yours. The portal closed and with that, his mask disintegrated so you could see his face. A bit tired, he still had a less-than-enthusiastic expression on.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere.” He repeated and you stood stuff as a board, now a bit scared. He took slow, calculated steps towards you as your head tilted back to continue watching him. “Inaccurate and disobedient. I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” His index finger hooked under your chin as he smirked and grabbed your hand with his free one, pulling you into your bathroom. He looked around for a second before hitting a button on his watch and letting the fabric disappear.

You bit your lip as your eyes took full advantage of his exposed skin. “You- it-“

“Yeah. I know.” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, bending you over your counter with your hand breached against your back. “Now I want you to really study how I fuck you, so that you get a good look at how big I am, and how easy I can maneuver this body.” He whispered into your damp hair and pushed down, then ripping the towel away and throwing it out of the bathroom completely.

His eyes stared down at your weeping cunt and he licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you another time. Today, I want you to really feel my size.” He was cocky, and he had a right to be. His dick was huge, almost alarmingly big.

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you clenched your jaw. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow. That way you can feel good and still learn.” He cooed in a teasing tone and your eyes found his in the mirror, watching intently as he began to push into you. The sudden width he was stretching you to was mind numbing and your knees began to buckle, but he just held you up with one hand, the other still guiding himself into you.

“Coño, your sucking me in so nicely, might not even need to slow down.” He spoke and your eyes were rolling back from his words, to which you snapped out of once his hand that was holding you up held your face harshly towards the mirror. “No slacking, little girl. You better keep your eyes on my cock.”

Halfway inside, and you were already fluttering around him, on the verge of orgasm. “That’s it, sucia, cum on my cock. It’ll be the first time of many.” You shivered at his words, feeling him sink in further and immediately orgasming. The rolls of pleasure washing through you made him grunt as his hips couldn’t help but rut into you harshly. The lack of prep had you feeling everything he was giving you, hyper aware of your insides wrapping around him.

“Mm, wanna fuck me back? Grind back onto my cock? Paciencia, Nena.” He instructed as you kept trying to get him in further. Wrapping a hand around your torso, he tweeked at your nipples and made you gasp from the sensation. “That’s it,” he mumbled.

Finally, smirked, he chuckled darkly as you tried once more to thrust backwards. “Fine, you asked for it.” He met your eyes in the mirror, now blood red and swirling with the threat as he snapped his hips forward and forced the rest of him into you, making you gargle out a strained sound in shock and pleasure. The pain was beautiful, and began to subside quickly as you felt him twitch. He hit every spot and more, feeling new depths and points of pleasure.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he started a slightly faster pace. Your body jiggled from the movements and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your apartment, your mouth hanging open as your eyes never left were his dick was buried into you. He smiled, enjoying the way you watched his cock disappear into you over and over, and you felt the pressure building once more. How he bullied your cunt and grinned while doing it made you burst, tears breaking free and a scream ripping through you as your pussy squeezed him.

“Fuck, so tight.” He groaned, head now falling back and he kept going, beginning to chase his own high. Your mind had shut off now, fucked practically stupid on his cock and he rocking into you mercilessly. His speed was unmatched and he moved to pick up your hips to meet his, closing the gap your height difference had created, and finally having him slam into you until his hips met your ass, making you choke on your own oxygen from the absolute brutal beating he was giving your cervix.

He slid one hand to the back of your neck and pressed you further into the counter top of your sink, forcing your pert nipples to meet the cold marble and you cried out more, barely able to push back against him now as you were trapped between his body and your bathroom’s confinements with only your top toes touching the floor. Your face was streaked with tears as he grunted and let out ragged breaths.

“The perfect little pussy, so perfect for my cock. You can take it, little artist. You wanted to draw my cock so badly, now you have the perfect image to do it. Fucked deep inside of you. Draw us like this for me, yeah? I wanna see it everyday. Or should I just fuck you every day instead?” His words tumbled from his mouth like an avalanche and you could feel his cock about to burst, making you teeter over that cliff as well. “That’s it, strangle my cock. Cum all over me, niña, paint me with your cute cunt.” He demanded and you obliged, feeling a shooting electric sensation rip out of you. Suddenly, you were both a bit wet between the thighs and he was mesmerized by what he saw. Your juices squirt all over him and he came instantly after seeing that, pounding into you as far as he could and forcing his cum the deepest it could be inside of you.

Both of you were unmoving as you caught your breath, a layer of sweat covering you both as you stared at each other in the mirror. No words could describe what had just happened and Miguel smiled once more, which prompted you to ask.

“What?”

“You need to get a mirror by your bed. Because I want to do this to you every day.” He watched your eyes widen in the mirror in front of you both as he licked your neck from behind and sinking his fangs into your soft skin, jutting his hips once more and making you realize he was still hard.

“For art purposes.”

Part two is out!

[heartslabyuls]

been messing with this for a while, but i think i’ll finally post the first three dorms for my swap au!!

these aren’t necessarily what i think the rsa uniforms would be in canon, just how i’d personally adapt them to the main cast in these positions. i don’t think a dorm based on the lion king would even exist at all in canon rsa.

design notes below the cut!

the pictures above the characters are the iterations/versions where i drew most inspiration for each design, both physical and writing. riddle and ace had the most inspiration taken from different places.

Heartslabyul —> Eccentryul

riddle’s design is painfully obviously ripped off of the alice in wonderland black butler ova. i spent so long sketching out ideas for him then ended up rewatching some black butler episodes and literally stole ciel’s clothes.

since eccentryul doesn’t have a dress code, all students are free to dress as they please. riddle is meant to look like an outlier among the other members of his dorm to highlight his role as the alice of the group while still looking like he belongs there. every character is wearing some kind of coat, however riddle is the only one with something overtop of it. all characters have slightly more muted colors in their clothing whereas riddle’s blues are a bit brighter.

trey and cater, as the third year pair, have flat colored hair without any change. ace and deuce as the first year pair have two colors in their hair. and riddle has no coloring to his hair at all as the only second year.

riddle’s headband is tied to resemble bunny ears! he no longer has his heart ahoge, unfortunately too much damage to his hair has made them recede back into his hair. but! his bangs have the general shape of a heart to make up for it!

deuce’s shoes were inspired by chat noir from ladybug. the paws look is adorable and i use it whenever i can. ace also has pawbs shoes, but they’re slippers! specifically the kind of slippers you could wear outside with the firm bottoms.

Savanaclaw —> Savirvana

i looked at so many possible references and did my research on kenyan clothing trends and traditional styles, but NOTHING i did came out right, so i just ended up basing it off of the outfits from leona’s hometown event. i simplified them a bit more than those, because event outfits tend to be more dramatic and detailed than the base outfits.

leona’s skin was shifted to a darker, more red tone, to match the deeper red tones of his hair. his warmer colors give off a more approachable feeling compared to the cooler, dark tones of his original design. his tattoo is a butterfly to symbolize the change simba experiences in his character arc in the movie.

ruggie is still pale, however he’s now tanned due to his constant time outside in such a hot and sunny environment. his freckles are kind of hard to see in the image quality but they’re still there! ruggie really doesn’t change much, his personality is already very firting to timon and pumba-

jack’s hair color also sees a significant change, mostly because there were too many white-haired characters LMAO. the brown colors give him a calmer look, fitting his personality more than the bright white hair and tail. unlike leona and ruggie, since jack grew up in an environment with a wider variety of temperatures and climates, he isn’t as used to the sun and thus keeps his arms covered and protected to prevent damage from too much uv light. don’t mind how the stripes of his pants look different compared to leona and ruggie’s, they were so annoying to draw and i got sick of it by the time i got to him 💀

Octavinelle —> Sidonis

i got the idea to base the uniform for the dorm of the sea off of sailor outfits/uniforms and that was my peak design moment. i will never reach that level of genius ever again.

sidonis’s uniform consists of light, flowing fabrics in order to not drag them down in water. their shoes resemble water shoes! for obvious reasons, so they aren’t ruined by salt water or just water in general.

jade and floyd still remain opposites, and i tried to portray this more with their hair. jade’s hair is neatly styled, with a black coloring to further symbolize his supposed “maturity.” floyd’s is unkempt, with the same black streak more highlighted among the white, to showcase his unpredictability.

floyd also seems to be missing a tooth. i wonder if jade knows anything about that.

azul’s housewarden uniform has a trail of tulle(? maybe chiffon?) tied into two, flowing tails to replicate ariel’s mermaid fins. he has a lot of diy and homemade jewelry to reflect her creativity and resourcefulness, including the shell necklace.

[kierahn]

yandere prince x butler m reader

TO DEFY HIM. [ y ! prince x m ! butler reader ]

yandere! prince x butler! male reader

[ nsfw, minors dni. ]

warnings:

noncon elements

blackmailing/threatening

exhibitionism

slight gore

general yandere behaviour

DEAD DOVE ELEMENTS (in very big and bold letters. please proceed w/ this warning in mind.)

request here.

i'm not sure if anon wanted nsfw or not, but i decided to include it anyways. sorry if you didn't want any nsfw with your request anon.

× your family had continuously served the royal family for generations which meant that you were fated to do the same someday. you met the young prince back when you were still in training. he was three years younger than you which made you view him as if he was your younger brother.

× he had always been the timid one out of all the other princes which made him the black sheep of the royal family. he was barely given any attention from his own family and the servants. it was a pitiful sight watching everyone neglect him simply because he refused to speak up like the rest of his brothers.

× so you decided to step in. you became a source of light for him; like the light found at the end of a dark tunnel, a breath of fresh air. you made him feel seen for once.

× as you two grew together, so did the young prince's obssession towards you. you were eventually assigned (at his request) to be his personal butler at the age of sixteen. his main rule ? never leave his side.

× at first, you disregarded the obvious hints of his growing obssession, claiming that it would eventually fade once he meets more people. he was only thirteen that time, you figured that he needed time to adjust with other people.

× however, this theory of yours was disproven when he turned 21. his obssession with you only grew with time and more rules were implemented over your head. it had gotten to the point where you started to feel both isolated and suffocated.

× you were restricted from talking to the other servants, restricted from sleeping in a different bedroom other than his own, restricted to say no to his orders, and many more. he was basically molding you into his ideal, obedient puppet.

× but then he drew the last straw when he decided to restrict you from contacting your family. that was when you finally decided to cut ties with him, unconcsiously snapping and raising your voice at the young prince.

× "you dare raise your voice against me ?" caine's dark eyes turned cold. you turned on your heel to storm out of the room after hearing his indifferent reply, frustration clouding your judgement. you seem to have forgotten that this was the prince you were taking out your anger on.

× before you could step out of the room, your path was blocked by two knights entering the room with your parents held captive in their grip. you stared at your parents with wide eyes before snapping your angered gaze towards caine for some sort of explanation. however, your anger subsided as soon as you saw the look on the prince's face, realizing that you were now treading on eggshells.

× it was a clear threat. no words needed.

× "your highness, please–" you frantically pleaded. caine had ordered you to willingly give yourself up and to pledge your loyalty to him in exchange for your parent's safety. as expected, you agreed to his conditions with little to no hesitation, desperate to keep your parents alive and unharmed.

× "they don't need to be here ! send them away– hng.. hah ~" caine ignored your words as he worked his way through your uniform, slipping off your vest and unbuttoning your blouse with haste. he attacked your neck with kisses, his other hand trailing through your bare skin, eliciting soft whimpers from you.

× the guards stood by the door, keeping your parents still and forcing them to watch the scene as ordered by caine. he wanted to make a point; wanted them to watch him take you, their beloved son.

× you continued to beg for caine to send your parents away before continuing, even as he stuck his finger inside your hole, you cried out for him not to do it in front of your parents. you could only look away in shame as you felt their stares on you and the prince, holding your arms over your tear-filled eyes as the pleasure eventually settled in after he was three fingers in.

× you felt guilty, knowing the fact that you got hard at the thought of being watched as you were pounded into roughly by the prince. you couldn't do anything but apologize repeatedly. ".. nhg.. a, am– sorr..y ! hng~ m..om, da..d." you sounded so broken as your moans and sobs mixed together to form a sweet sound.

× caine leaned in to capture your lips into a heated kiss as he thrusts himself deeper into you, not stopping a single second. the sounds of skin slapping against each other, your muffled moans, and your parents' sobs were the only sounds that filled the room.

× out of rage for putting you in such a humiliating situation, you made the mistake of harshly biting down on caine's tongue when he tried to slip it inside your mouth, making the prince stop his movements and pull away from you with a bleeding tongue. he sent you a harsh glare, his hand shooting out to grab a fistful of your hair.

× "are you testing my temper, y/n ?" he hissed angrily, blood dripping down his chin from the bite. "perhaps you want to be punished." he says lowly, a slight growl in his voice before facing the guards that were holding your parents in place. his eyes glowered towards your father's look of terror. "cut off the father's tongue, and do it slowly." he ordered coldly, emphasizing the last word.

× your eyes widened as soon as you hear your father's scream, realizing that you've made the mistake of defying the prince. you tried to push caine off of you, struggling under him as you yelled out towards the guard that carried out the order. "NO !! Stop, dad — PLEASE STOP IT !!"

× you were pushed back down to lay on your back, your wrists pinned above your head. caine resumed to drive his cock into you, with more force this time. your sobs and moans filled the room along with your father's scream and your mother's pleads for the guards to stop.

× you felt a knot form in your lower abdomen, indicating that you were close. after a few more thrusts, you both reached your climax at the same time. your chest rose up and down rapidly, trying to catch your breath. you cast your hazy gaze towards your parents after you felt caine pull himself out from inside of you, his load slowly trickling down your thigh. the last thing you saw was the guards releasing your parents from their hold, your mother rushing over to your father's side as he held onto his bleeding mouth.

× your chin was gently moved to face the prince who hovered above you which snapped you back to your senses, his gaze soft; a contrast to his cold-hearted actions. "remember this moment, or else i'll have to remind you again about what happens when you try to leave me."

[elliesglock]

this live to me is something elseeeeeeee entirely. like they're so sneaky yet so obvious. and yes a lot of the stuff in this breakdown will only be speculation because it's what you hear and think happens. however i'm still gonna give the people what they want!

first and foremost, paige was on a MISSION trying to find some food for azzi. here she go fucking up drews order trying to find somewhere for azzi. and a sitting there munching on her chips not a care in the world. she knows she's the princess and she will never be dethroned sorry! also my gentlewoman p agenda runs heavy in the roots of this live. like literally built off the back of it besides the us open. p just tryna be a good gf and making sure az eats and also gets exactly what she wants, just sweet and cute ugh paige when will u stop being gay also i think they're trying to order from cava cause i think azzi says it and they're talking about which rice to get and meat and stuff. just a little tidbit.

a few quotes from this live that i hear that really stuck out to me....

"you coming to the game?" "no😚" "then why didn't you answer that when i texted you??"

p....deep breaths. that to me felt sooooo paige like ofc she'd be on azzi's ass about messaging her back. it felt so domestic to me, and the hint of irritation in p's voice although not serious is just so telling. she wants her girl to text her back and she's gonna pout about it btw. even though paige is a dnd warrior. and the way azzi's not taking her serious at all.

eeeyuppppp their dynamic. their banter. yall just wouldn't get it. also drew mutes them way too fast after paige talks abt the text, sounds like there was some girlfriends bickering in drew's hotel room but im not gonna name names. i think ice told him to mute.

"you coming to uconn?" "you tryna see me?"

just another example of shithead p with that shithead smirk i know she has on her face when she says this. but you already know she was looking at azzi with the biggest heart doe eyes you've literally ever seen.

okay just wanted to put those there.

now let's break down some moments....

we're gonna start off with one of my theories. at about

12:41 in the video i attached ice is teasing azzi about her chips being stale. they bicker and eventually az chews obnoxiously on the chip to show ice. it sounds like paige says "babe! relax." to azzi. they laugh and kinda move on. so it might not be anything if they move on so quickly but i just wanted to put it out there in case you wanted to spy for it. i think p also just let's babe slip out for az sometimes cause it can be viewed as friendly. unfortunately they can't be friendly to save their lives so.

we're gonna address the elephant in the room. here are my guesses. there's 2 kisses. now walk with me. ice is talking about the edgar's she sees on tik tok (no questions on that rn pls) and p and a are talking about az coming down to uconn to come visit p.

(lost some of what i said in the original post but i think i was talking about how i thought paige called azzi babe)

i think p also just let's babe slip out for az sometimes cause it can be viewed as friendly. unfortunately they can't be friendly to save their lives so.

we're gonna address the elephant in the room. here are my guesses. there's 2 kisses. now walk with me. ice is talking about the edgar's she sees on tik tok (no questions on that rn pls) and p and a are talking about az coming down to uconn to see p. they chat and at the end paige says "im gonna end my order". and at

14:54 there's def an interesting sound that sounds oddly like a kiss. from drew's reaction, and to me this is probably the most likely to be a kiss in the live. drew get the damn angles right and show ice i need to see her face. drew looks at ice with this face that all of uconn has when pazzi flirts on main, just a grin that screams "over it". they tired of it fri. it gets super quiet and i think p/a are just kinda standing with each other before leaving. hugging and holding each other. obviously you can tell the energy has shifted and i think drew and ice know to kinda give them privacy and just keep quiet. i always find it so admirable how people around them respect them so much, they can feel the love from them and know it's so real for them and it means the world to both of them just to be in the other's presence. even if it's cringey pda. i just love it. okay sorry back to real stuff.

15:02 in the video is where you can possibly hear p saying "i love you most" to azzi. i died dropped dead on the floor im never getting back up again. whole life over. whole life over. WHAT HAVE I BEEN HARPING FOR SO LONGGGGG! lover girl p! it sounds so familiar to paige. like it's something she wants azzi to know everyday and does say to her everyday. to paige, loving her girl is easy like breathing, and she wants azzi to know that. and i know it's just a simple i love you but that was my takeaway from it. also knowing p and knowing them...ugh. progressssss. they're something special fr. enough of that actually before i start sobbing into my phone. another kiss i believe. debate me on that one if you want it sounds like one to me.

p & a are kinda whispering about something. there's a certain tone that just kinda leaves a lot to be speculated and imagined. i can't pick up what they're saying, azzi sounds sorta pouty who knows for what. probs about food or p being a simp. ice and drew give another look to each other. drew leave ur big sis alone she's having a moment 😭. he shows comments to ice about the edgars she was talking about before p tells him to get off live.

and that's all folks..most of this sounds like lunatic talk but hey y'all are still here with me so. drew better lock in at their wedding that's all i'm gonna say

[cottonlemonade]

hii! may i please order a medium pineapple lemonade with extra ice for suna? your work is always so wonderful 🥹🌸

Accidental Confession

word count: 1317 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness, enemies to lovers

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy accidental confession with rival Suna

It all started with a meme. If Suna hadn’t taken that picture of you stretching during class and added a little Simba into your hands, you wouldn’t have photoshopped his face onto a mop.

To be fair, his was harmless. Yours was downright rude and so he fell in love immediately.

He followed you around - not as inconspicuously as he might have hoped - to sneak a photo in the most meme worthy moments, flooding his camera roll with dozens and eventually hundreds of snapshots of you. The whole front of a silly little meme war was a great excuse to mask his steadily growing crush and his friends didn’t think anything of it when Suna set a picture of you mid-sneeze as his lock screen. Granted, he himself was still very much in denial about his feelings as well, so it wasn’t that difficult to pretend that he wasn’t bothered when you talked to an upperclassman and laughed loudly at his, undoubtedly, mediocre joke - although Suna did sweep his pencil case off his desk in an attempt to wave Osamu off when he asked if he was okay.

The class groaned when the teacher announced that for the impending field trip they’d be split into teams of two via random lottery. Half the students got assigned a number while the other half drew a little piece of paper from a box held out to them to match with said number. Quiet cheers and not so quiet disappointment could be heard and the teacher called for silence.

Annoyed that he didn’t even get the minuscule chance to work with him, Suna leaned over to Osamu, “Who do you have?” His friend unfolded his paper and turned it over to read.

“5. That’s…”, he craned his neck to check and count, “Y/n, ya?”

“Switch with me.”, Suna said.

“Why? Who do ya have?”

“Don’t care. Come on.”

Osamu frowned and raised an almost disappointed brow.

“What happened to ya, dude? Ya know, yer bein’ real obvious at this point, right?”

Suna rejected the allegations, waited a moment, then simply exchanged his slip of paper with Osamu’s.

“Ya owe me.”, Osamu noted.

“Yeah yeah.”

Meanwhile, you seemed less thrilled about the match and when the bell rang you threw an annoyed look at Suna who gave you a blank stared wave and went to lunch with your friends. He was a very unfortunate long-term crush you had nursed since the beginning of the year and was as handsome as he was annoying. In spite of this, you had a great time complaining about your matched partners over your bentos while enjoying the mellowing summer sun under the shade of a tree.

When the next morning arrived, Suna made sure to be only two minutes late instead of his usual 15, so he could secure the spot next to you on the long drive to Kobe. The class would be headed to the big art museum in the city and as an assignment got a list of 15 art pieces they had to find, like a scavenger hunt. The first team to get a picture from each of their art works would get to choose where to go for lunch.

With a sigh you dropped in the seat next to him, frowning at his sleepy grin. When you only scoffed and looked away, his heart started pounding and he had no idea why. And this wasn‘t a “oh Suna, you‘re just in love, silly“ kinda pounding. No! This was more similar to that one time when he went out for coffee with his friends and instead of admitting that he wanted his favorite - a sickeningly sweet vanilla latte with extra syrup pumps - he ordered an iced Americano with a triple shot because he thought it sounded cool and for hours it had felt as if a tiny panicked bird was trapped in his chest. In short, he concluded, you were not good for his health.

“Alright.”, you said once you turned to him. You stood in the entrance together with the rest of the class, holding the reference paper in hand listing the artwork, “I’ll take the top 8, you take the bottom 7.”

He bit back a comment about how there was nothing “bottom” about him, but one look from you and he was quiet. That icy stare of disdain made him want to do the cooking and the cleaning and ask how your day had been while he finished up the ironing. “Let’s do this.”, he replied and nearly whimpered when you rolled your eyes at him.

With some quick online searching, the artwork was quickly found and the pictures taken. To keep up appearances he snapped a few pics in between of the NPCs in baroque paintings with increasingly weird facial expressions, fully intending to ask, “This you?” the next time he saw you. He could also airdrop them during class and looked forward to receiving a less than flattering emoji or thumbs down.

But now he had a different objective. Excited at the prospect of finally having an excuse to get your number, he jogged through the museum to your previously agreed upon meeting spot, finding you seated and waiting for him on a bench. You were scribbling on a notepad precariously balanced on your knees. He snuck up behind you, leaned in close to your ear and in a low calm voice went, “Boo.”

The yelp you let out had museum goers turn to you and a man with a lanyard, who was guiding a tour, threw an exasperated sigh in your direction.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”, you pressed out through gritted teeth, a deep red tint on your cheeks.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”, he said simply and in one smooth movement sat down next to you.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”, he then asked casually, waiting for you to say the words.

“Just airdrop them to me.”, you frowned.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Luckily his deflated shoulders were masked by his chronically bad posture and he quickly selected the necessary pictures.

Your phone gave a little buzz and you accepted the stack. “That’s all. You’re excused. Go off and do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can stay and help, you know? I skimmed some of the plackets.”

“What great work ethic.”, you deadpanned but moved your notepad closer to him so he could see.

With your other hand you swiped through the photos, double checking if you had everything.

He was too busy catching a whiff of your shampoo to notice you furrowing your brow.

“Uhm, Suna.”

You turned your phone screen to him and the blood drained from his face.

It was a picture of you - of course, what else could it have been. You were absently staring out the window in the classroom, your hair a little messy from a regular day of fending for your life in high school. Your chin rested on your palm and the sun shone beautifully against your face. He knew the picture well, because just last night when he couldn’t sleep, he edited it. Black and white hearts bordered the snapshot, a slightly blurry filter gave it a dreamlike feel. He gagged when he saw just how mushy he must have felt to add words around your head. Pookie. Baddie. Loml. My Bbg.

“What kind of prank is this?”, you asked, suspicion clinging to every syllable.

Suna thought.

Telling you that this picture was born out of post-nut hormones would only lead to a somewhat compromising confession that he fondled and humped his body pillow thinking of you, having no problem at all imagining your so very tempting love handles spilling between his fingers.

“Would you believe me if I told you my dog took my phone?“

You stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

a/n: thank you so much for continuing to participate in my events! I’m so happy when someone comes back for more 🥺 I hope you enjoyed this one! 🌟

And once again thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for letting me surf her brain through the storm ✨

[wayward-dreamer]

Playing With Fate

Square/s filled: "You need to get your strength back" @anyfandomkinkbingo (quote in bold) |

Pairing: Demon!Dean x F!Reader

Word count: 3,545

Summary: Y/N offers to help with the search for Dean after he becomes a demon and leaves the bunker. Her plan doesn't go the way she intended, but that didn't mean it wasn't a desired outcome.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, hair pulling, choking, spanking, dacryphilia, degradation, dubcon, rough sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), squirting, I think that's it, but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Please blame the s10 rewatch I was in the middle of for this. I take no responsibility for the level of horny everyone's going to be after this lmao... Also, I've done things a little differently with this one, so I hope y'all enjoy! As always thanks to my loves @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean for betaing this. Don't know where I'd be without either of you <3

What the fuck am I doing?

That was the first thought that entered Y/N’s mind, but it was fleeting, disappearing as she looked up at Dean from her submissive position on her knees, her mouth wrapped tight around his thick girth as her hands pressed into the muscle of his bare thighs. His gaze was intense, green orbs that occasionally gave way to solid black, something she had never anticipated would arouse her the way it had from the first moment he revealed them to her. He caressed her hollowed cheeks with his thumb, his other hand in her hair as her head bobbed back and forth, taking his length deep into her throat. It soon wasn’t enough for him, his grip tightening in her strands as he held her still, his pelvis smacking vigorously against her. Saliva dripped in long strings around her mouth as he chuckled, relishing in the way she choked and gagged around him, the glugging of her throat adding to the pleasurable cacophony that reached his ears.

Tears pricked her eyes as she moaned and spluttered around his shaft, her own thighs squeezing together to keep her arousal at bay for a moment. He noticed the way she squirmed, the way her flesh pressed tightly, the signs of her need obvious to him. He drew back from her throat, a harsh gasp leaving as her lungs burned, her chest heaving as she sucked in air and met his gaze.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” he ordered, grinning as he wiped her saliva around her lips. “Want that pussy of yours as wet as your mouth, got it?”

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, nodding weakly.

“Yes what?” he growled, tugging at the roots of her hair and making her whimper.

“Yes sir,” she added, staring up at him.

The smirk never left his face as he thrusted into her waiting mouth once more. Following his instruction and opening her legs, her fingers moving between them and finding her clit already lightly covered in her wetness. She moaned wantonly as she circled the swollen nub, her eyes fluttering with the euphoria that coursed through her. Not only at the feeling of her hand between her legs, but at the way he was using her, and the shame of willingly letting him fading away with every plunge of his cock into her throat.

This hadn’t been the plan when she first found him. Far from it, in fact.

When Sam had called her with the location of the bar Dean had been frequenting, she had full intention of stepping in and setting him straight. He had warned her about Dean being a demon now, something that had happened several weeks before and which she chastised him for not telling her sooner. She could’ve helped and maybe with their “geek brains” together, as the elder Winchester liked to call them, they could’ve found him sooner. She wished she had known; her and Dean were friends, and she hated the fact that she hadn’t been there for him.

Friends were supposed to look out for each other. Especially those types of friends that were sometimes, on occasion, more than that.

Nevertheless, Sam said he would join her but she insisted on doing this alone, not listening to his protests and telling him to call her back once he had found Dean’s whereabouts.

When Y/N walked into that dive and took a seat at the bar, her eyes immediately found him. There he sat, at a table in the middle of the room, whiskey tumbler in hand. He didn’t look any different to the normal Dean she knew, not even when a blonde waitress came over to him and handed him another glass, draping her arm across his broad shoulders. She shrugged it off, now wasn’t the time to get jealous. She ordered herself a whiskey too, taking it and facing the room, crossing one leg over the other which allowed her denim skirt to ride up her thigh. That along with a tight, black tank top and black heeled ankle boots were her attire for the night; completely different to the usual hunter gear she’d be wearing but she needed something to catch his eye.

And sure enough, it did.

Dean had always had a higher level of awareness thanks to being a hunter, but after becoming a demon it had become a sixth sense. A familiar energy caught his attention as soon as it stepped into the room, his head lifting up to meet Y/N’s eyes as she stared back at him. He hadn’t seen her for a while, and if she was here that meant Sam had gotten to her. He had the initial thought of sending her on her way as he stood up, but as he made his way over to her, caught the way her thighs pressed together where they were crossed, he knew he could have some fun with her.

A grin pulled at his face as he gazed down at her, seeing her perfect mouth taking his intimidating length with each thrust, and he was glad that he had been right. It had been a long time since they had been together like this, and it was clear that he hadn’t taken advantage of their situation as often as he should have from the way she was working her tongue around him. She was unmistakably desperate to please him, to be with him in any way possible, even if he did have a new set of black eyes.

He had no problem exploiting that fact.

“Look so good choking on my cock, baby,” he groaned, holding her down against his pelvis.

His hand tightened in her hair once more and pulled her off his cock again, a dark chuckle escaping him as he heard her shuddering breath. Saliva hung off the edge of her chin, dripping onto the swell of her breasts, her eyes wide as she waited obediently for whatever he had planned for her next.

“Stand in front of the mirror,” he instructed, glancing up at the corner of the room before looking back at her. “Want you to see yourself losing control while I fuck you.”

Y/N somehow found the strength to stand from her position on the floor, the burning in her limbs only adding to the fire that was rising within her with each staggered step towards the mirror. Her appearance reflecting back to her was already a mess; her hair tangled in certain places, saliva drying and hardening at the edges of her mouth. As she spread her legs and curled her hands on either side of the frame, Dean stepped up behind her, calloused fingers sliding down the smooth skin of her back. Their eyes briefly met in the mirror before his gaze shifted down, following the movement of his hands as they admired the curve of her ass, a groan escaping him as his thumb grazed her puckered hole down to the sticky, wet warmth of her folds. She gasped as she felt the thick digit slide back and forth, no doubt wetting his skin as her arousal grew and dripped from her sex.

“So fucking wet,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, but he finally left his eyes and addressed her again. “Ready to take my cock, aren’t ya?”

Her lack of response earned her a heavy hand against the flesh of her ass, causing a yelp to escape her. Her eyes widened as they made contact with his, narrowed and glaring at her through the mirror. He had barely done anything to her and she was already overwhelmed by his actions. Her mind was caught somewhere between not knowing how much more she could take, and wanting to take everything he had to give. Now that he was a demon, she had no idea how much that was, but she was more than willing to find out.

His hand came down twice more in quick succession, making her jolt forward as she shrieked. The sting was intense but delicious as the sensation spread through her whole body, and she knew this was only the beginning.

“You better be fucking ready for me, sweetheart. ‘Cause I ain’t holding back.”

The implication of his words was clear. He wasn’t the Dean she knew anymore, and she shouldn’t expect him to be.

A brief nod was all she could muster as an answer to his earlier question, and that was all he needed. He brought his thumb to his mouth, glistening with her wetness as his plump lips wrapped around it. He kept his gaze on the reflection in front of him, their eyes locked as she breathed heavily, a groan leaving him as he sucked at the digit and took hold of his shaft, rubbing it through her folds. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him do that; taste her off his fingers,  but it hit differently now.

Before she could register what was happening, he lined himself to her entrance and slammed into her, her walls sheathing his thickness completely as a ragged moan fell from her lips.

The sound was a harsh contrast to the soft whimper that she had tried to suppress when he sat down in front of her at the bar, flagging down the bartender and ordering himself another whiskey. He turned to her, his eyes taking her in as they roamed down her frame, an eyebrow lifting in approval at her low cut top and the way her skirt had ridden up slightly, exposing more of her thigh as she sat.

“Didn’t think Sammy would send someone else to do his job,” he started, sipping his whiskey once it was in front of him. “Guess he’s losing practice without me, huh?”

“He didn’t send me,” she clarified, trying to remain firm in his presence. “And there’s a quick fix for that. Just come home.”

He scoffed, chuckling as he dropped his head and shook it. “No fucking way.”

The bite and careless lilt of his laugh and words stung, but she couldn’t dwell on it.

“Dean, this isn’t you,” she reasoned.

“Oh, but it is, Y/N,” he countered, as he turned on the bar stool and leaned his forearms back on the bar, his eyes never leaving her. “It’s the new me.”

Green irises flashed to solid black, holding her gaze long enough for a fear she had never experienced before to run down her back. Along with another strange yet familiar feeling between her legs. Strange because this wasn’t the time or place for it. As his eyes quickly returned to normal, Y/N’s jaw clenched as she stared up at him.

“Dean, look, you don’t have any options here,” she stated, pushing her drink aside and reaching into the left pocket of her denim skirt. “You’re coming with me back to the bunker, and Sam’s gonna get to work on curing you. End of discussion.”

Dean sipped his drink as he watched her take out a pair of silver handcuffs, devil’s traps carved into them. He slowly placed his drink down as he smirked, his gaze shifting from them up to her. “I think those are gonna look better on you tonight, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, but she knew they weren’t as effective as usual. He was getting under her skin and they both knew it. From her other pocket, she pulled out the top of a flask as she stared up at him, waiting for him to look back at her as he glanced down.

“Don’t make this harder-” she started but his sinister scoff stopped her.

His green eyes, that once held so much admiration for her, were now void of any kind of emotion as he finally looked at her. Slowly, the shift almost imperceptible, his face hovered an inch away from hers.  “I thought you liked it hard, Y/N. Hard… fast… so rough you wanna feel that ache between your legs for days.”

A shuddered exhale fell from her lips, one she hadn’t realized she had been holding, causing him to chuckle.

“So how ‘bout you stop wastin’ your breath on this back and forth,” he continued, gesturing between them as a smirk spread across his face. “And admit that you’re real curious to know what it’s like to get fucked by a demon.”

Their gazes remained locked as he tested the waters; tested whether temptation would coax her into letting him corrupt her for no other reason than pleasurable amusement. He saw the way fear, guilt and thirst circled in the depths of her eyes, and he hoped it was the last of those that would win.

As Dean peered into those eyes once again, through the mirror’s reflection, he saw all of those things give way to euphoria as he pounded deep into the tight heat between her thighs.

Y/N barely recognized the face staring back at her. Hooded eyes, her mouth agape as a string of erotic noises escaped her with every slap of his hips against the curve of her ass. He had been right. She did enjoy sex when it was harder, faster, so rough that she felt the constant throb at the apex of her thighs. The Dean she knew was well aware of that fact, and this Dean, this… twisted version of him was using that to his full advantage. She wasn’t sure if she was willingly letting him, or if he was coercing her into this sinful act, but it was bliss.

A heavy hand slid up her back and into the strands of her hair, pulling harshly as his sweat slicked chest pressed up against her. His breath fanned over her ear and cheek as they stared at each other. A loud, lustful cry erupted from between her lips as the head of his cock drove deeper into her at this new angle, reaching places within her that hadn’t been explored in a long time. A tear brimmed at the corner of her waterline, rolling down slowly as another followed from the other, her thoughts as overwhelmed as her body by everything she was feeling. He laughed in her ear, the sound wicked as it rumbled from his chest against her back, watching the tears make tracks on her face.

Dean leaned down, the tip of his tongue slipping out between his pouty lips and dragging over the skin, the tang against his taste buds making him groan. Her eyes widened in disbelief, but her core tightened within arousal from the act.

“So fucking hot seeing you like this,” he whispered against her ear. “Just mine to use. You can’t lie to me, Y/N. I can see it in your eyes, can feel it from the way you’re squeezing around me. You love my cock inside this tight, little pussy. You don’t care anymore that I’m a demon, do ya?”

Y/N couldn’t remember the words she had spoken in agreement to leave the bar with him. All she could remember was his hands on her hips, pushing her up against the brick wall, rough lips fused to hers as his thumbs played at the strip of skin exposed between her top and her skirt. All she could recall was the way his fingers slipped under the hem, making her breath hitch as they danced over the flesh of her inner thigh and pulled her thong aside, moving between her folds.

He smirked into the kiss, pulling away and looking deep into her eyes. “So wet already, sweetheart. My black eyes got somethin’ to do with this?”

“No,” she whimpered, trying to remain defiant but she was flailing.

The amused grin he had given her in response then matched the way he was staring back at her through the mirror at that moment.

“N-no,” she moaned, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t care anymore…”

Her words had somehow emboldened the pace of his thrusts, the scream silenced in her throat as his calloused fingers wrapped over it tight, his other hand groping at her breasts as he slammed into her. Her own hands struggled to hold herself steady against the mirror, the frame shaking from the brutal force of his hips smacking against her. Her walls clenched around his girth, causing sounds only akin to a feral animal to come from him right against the shell of her ear. Along with the loud squelch between her legs and her own choked moans, she knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she fell over the edge into the deepest depths of hell with him.

No matter how heavenly it felt to have him inside her, she knew she was headed for the fiery pit for what she was doing. It was debauchery at its finest, and yet she couldn’t care less.

Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened. Maybe it was the short walk from the bar across the street to the motel, maybe it was when they stepped through the door, or when they stripped each other of their clothes as their kiss became as heated as their frenzied touches. Maybe it was when she fell to her knees in front of him and wondered what the fuck she was doing, allowing a demon, something she hunted on a regular basis, to invade her every thought and sensation. Even if it was a man she knew very well, it had been wrong.

But it had also never felt so right.

The familiar pull in her core had her eyes squeeze shut, but a tug from Dean’s hand in her hair had them opening again. He made her watch their sinful actions in the mirror once more, as he felt her walls like vice around him.

“Such a good slut just for me,” he groaned, nipping her earlobe. “You’re all mine now, right?”

The lewd moan that escaped her wasn’t enough of an answer for him, as his hand cracked against the globe of her ass, causing her to shriek.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I-I’m yours,” she finally replied, her voice sounding like a stranger’s from how hoarse it was.

“Damn right,” he grunted.

Her eyes rolled back as her air was still cut off by his heavy grip on her throat, but suddenly it dropped to grip her hips tightly with both hands, as his own began to falter with each frantic thrust. Her lungs burned as short breaths left her, moans turning into loud cries of his name as she reached that euphoric peak, her body convulsing as a stream of liquid gushed down her thigh, pushing his cock out as her wetness spurted against the mirror and dripped onto the carpeted floor. Her chest heaved as she breathed harshly, her vision blurred and unable to focus.

Dean took hold of his shaft, slicked up by her release and pumped his hand back and forth, expletives and groans falling from his parted lips as his cock pulsed in his grip. With one last tug, the veins in his neck strained as he let out a strangled grunt, his eyes flashing to solid black as ropes of his release shot over the small of her back. He grinned as he looked at her with those demon eyes she had found herself aroused by, and she smiled back slightly.

This was definitely not how tonight was supposed to go.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he muttered, grabbing her by her shoulders to steady her.

“Yeah,” was all she managed to push past her heavy breaths as she came down from her high.

“Well, I’m good to go again, but,” he smirked as his eyes flashed back to green irises. “You need to get your strength back.”

Y/N was taken aback by the concern, but she knew better than to assume it was for any other reason than needing her recharged for another round. He moved away from her, but not before smacking her ass once more as he walked away. She stumbled to the edge of the bed, still able to see herself in the mirror, her hand admiring the scratches and bruises forming along her skin. With a strangely content sigh, she fell back against the bed, unbothered by his cum sticking between her and the sheets underneath. She glanced to the side as he sat down next to her, his hand roaming over her body, fingers flicking over her nipple, making her moan softly.

“Take five, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

She bit her lip as she looked away from him, staring up at the ceiling. She heard a small buzz from her phone in the pocket of skirt, but made no move to search for it on the floor. It was no doubt Sam, texting for an update on how things were going. This was definitely a unique way of laying a trap, certainly not one she was planning, but at least this way Dean would never suspect that she had him right where she wanted him this whole time.

She’d let Sam know where she was eventually. She just wanted to enjoy playing with her own fate a little more.

[atlasthegreatest]

A Not-so-Quiet Visit / Talia Al Ghul x Daughter! Female Reader

Which, Talia’s eldest daughter — Y/n Al Ghul— decides to check on Damian, shocking the Batfamily, who mistakes her for an enemy. With Bruce intervening, the truth of her identity leaves the others unsettled — another Al Ghul is now in play.

Word count: 4542

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Hope you like it!

The low hum of the Batcave’s computers filled the cavernous space. Barbara sat at the console, tapping away on a keyboard while Dick Grayson and Tim Drake poured over reports from Gotham’s streets. Damian had been unusually quiet tonight, even more so than usual. He sat on the edge of a metal workbench, his face drawn in thought, occasionally glancing toward the time on the Batcomputer as if waiting for something—or someone.

“He’s more brooding than usual. Impressive,” Dick muttered to Tim, who snorted quietly.

“Maybe he missed a test question or something,” Tim replied under his breath.

“Silence, imbeciles,” Damian snapped, but his heart wasn’t in it. His eyes flickered toward the Batcomputer again. He seemed restless.

At that moment, the distant sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the upper levels of the Manor—Bruce’s office. Damian froze. He knew who it was.

Before he could say anything, the sound of boots clicking confidently on the cave’s metallic stairs made everyone spin around in alarm.

Barbara’s hands instinctively reached for a defensive position, and Dick moved smoothly into a combat stance. Tim swore under his breath and quickly drew his bo staff.

The figure emerging from the shadows was a young woman, older than Damian but bearing the same sharp, angular features and a gaze far too cold for someone her age. She had a regal air about her—like she belonged here. Her black combat suit hugged her form, with weapons resting at her hips, though she made no move to reach for them. She didn’t seem concerned in the slightest.

Her hair was tied back tightly, and her striking green eyes—so much like her brother’s—swept the Batcave with a calculating sharpness.

“What the hell—?” Tim started.

“Intruder!” Barbara announced, fingers hovering over the console to trigger security protocols.

“You dare.” The words left her mouth with the venom of someone who was used to being obeyed. She lifted a hand in a small, dismissive gesture that mirrored Talia Al Ghul perfectly. “Lower your weapons, now.”

“You’re with the League of Assassins,” Dick said, his voice low, tense. “What do you want?”

She gave him a condescending look, the kind that told him he was so far beneath her notice it was almost laughable.

“I am not here to deal with you,” she replied coolly, her accent a faint echo of her mother’s. “I am here for my brother.”

“You mean Damian?” Barbara asked, her confusion deepening as she eyed the young woman. “Who are you?”

Damian shifted uneasily, but the tension in his shoulders melted just a little. “She is my sister,” he said with the certainty of someone revealing a fact he thought should be obvious.

The entire room froze.

“Your what?” Tim said, blinking as if he’d misheard.

“Sister,” the woman confirmed smoothly. “The eldest child of Talia al Ghul. Damian’s superior, and unlike him, far more patient.” Her gaze flicked back to Damian. “I came to ensure you were unharmed. There were rumors circulating among the League—none of which I liked.”

“What rumors?” Dick demanded.

“You don’t need to know,” she replied with a dismissive glance. “It is a matter for the family. Not… outsiders.”

Barbara took a step forward. “You can’t just walk in here and—”

“I can. And I did.” The woman raised a brow, unimpressed by the outrage gathering in the room. She stood perfectly still, making no move to draw her weapons. Her poise was absolute, the very picture of a leader accustomed to giving orders without needing to raise her voice.

Tim gave Damian a sharp look. “You have a sister? And none of us knew about her?”

“Correct,” Damian said, standing up and walking toward her without hesitation.

“You’re just now telling us?” Barbara asked, still reeling from the revelation.

Damian shot her a look that was both arrogant and irritated. “My personal affairs are none of your concern.”

The woman gave a faint, approving smile. “At least you remember that much, little brother.”

Before anyone could press further, a deep, familiar voice called from above.

“Stand down.”

Bruce Wayne descended the steps slowly, his shadow stretching across the cave floor. His gaze locked immediately onto the woman. His face betrayed no surprise, no confusion—just an unreadable, neutral mask.

“You knew,” Dick accused, disbelief written across his face. “Of course, you knew.”

Bruce didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stopped a few feet away from the woman and gave her a nod—small, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

“Talia is upstairs,” he said to her quietly. “You could have used the front door.”

The faintest trace of amusement curled the corners of her lips. “I wanted to see how well your security has held up. It’s lacking.”

Tim muttered, “She is related to Damian.”

The woman ignored him entirely, stepping past Bruce with a fluid grace. Her attention remained solely on her brother as she reached out to clasp his shoulder—firmly, yet with an unspoken sense of care. “You’re well?”

Damian gave a sharp nod. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” she murmured, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. It was the kind of silence that spoke of familiarity—one born from years of shared experiences, of battles fought side by side, and of a trust that did not need words to be confirmed.

“You’ve been holding back again,” she whispered in a low tone, meant only for Damian. “Mother will not be pleased.”

“Mother isn’t pleased with many things,” Damian retorted, his expression softening slightly in a way the others rarely saw.

From the background, Dick and Tim exchanged glances. None of this made sense.

Barbara, still processing everything, crossed her arms. “So, let me get this straight—you’re some kind of… shadow sibling we were never supposed to know about?”

The woman turned her gaze on her, expression unreadable. “I prefer to think of myself as the one who handles things you cannot.”

“That’s comforting,” Dick muttered sarcastically.

Bruce gave her a look that was equal parts warning and understanding. “Are you planning on staying long?”

“No. Mother and I won’t linger.” Her eyes flicked upward, where Talia undoubtedly waited in the Manor. Then she glanced back at Damian. “But I will return.”

There was no goodbye, no ceremony. She gave Damian’s shoulder one final squeeze before turning on her heel and walking toward the exit with the same effortless confidence she had entered.

Just before she disappeared into the shadows, she paused and looked back, her piercing green eyes locking onto Bruce.

“Take care of him,” she said, her voice softer this time. There was no malice in her tone—only a quiet command, laced with something dangerously close to affection.

Bruce gave a subtle nod. “I always do.”

And with that, she was gone, as suddenly as she had arrived, leaving the Batfamily standing in stunned silence.

“Well,” Dick finally said, breaking the tension, “that was… something.”

Tim groaned, rubbing his temples. “We just found out Damian has a sister, and Talia Al Ghul is upstairs having tea with Bruce. What even is our life right now?”

Damian smirked. “You’ll adjust.”

Barbara shook her head, exasperated. “I really hate this family sometimes.”

From the shadows above, faint laughter echoed—like the sound of a ghost, a whisper of a life none of them knew existed until now. And somehow, it felt like that wasn’t the last they’d hear from her. Not by a long shot.

———————-

The Batcave settled into uneasy silence after the mysterious sister’s departure. Dick ran a hand through his hair, still processing the bombshell that just landed on them, while Tim leaned against the workbench with a scowl, looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

Barbara sat back at the console, shaking her head in disbelief. “So, you’re telling me that Talia al Ghul didn’t just have one kid with Bruce. She had two. And nobody thought to mention that.”

“Not even Bruce,” Tim muttered bitterly. “You know, typical Bat fashion. Gotta love family secrets.”

Damian shot him an icy glare. “She isn’t your business. My sister is loyal to the League, unlike certain people.”

Dick snorted, crossing his arms. “Well, she did just waltz into the Batcave, acting like she owned the place. Kind of a red flag, don’t you think?”

“She wasn’t going to harm anyone,” Damian snapped, clearly agitated. “She came to check on me, nothing more.”

“Yeah? Because that’s what people do—check in by sneaking into top-secret caves full of vigilantes,” Tim shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Super normal sibling stuff.”

Barbara leaned back in her chair. “The bigger question is, how did she even get in? We would have noticed if any of the cave’s systems were breached.”

“She’s League-trained.” Damian’s tone was dismissive, as if that explained everything. “If she wanted to sneak in, none of you would’ve known until she was standing right behind you.”

Dick rubbed his forehead, already tired of this conversation. “Okay, let’s take a step back. Who is she exactly? How old is she? And—”

“Her name is not important,” Damian interrupted coldly. “And what you need to understand is simple: she is my sister. My responsibility. Not yours.”

“You know that’s not how this works, Damian,” Barbara said, glancing up from the console. “If she’s aligned with the League of Assassins, she’s a potential threat to all of us.”

Before Damian could respond, Bruce’s heavy footfalls echoed as he approached the group, his expression still unreadable.

“I suggest we leave it there,” Bruce said, his voice low but authoritative. “She’s not here to harm anyone.”

Tim threw up his hands. “Oh, great. Now Bruce is doing the ‘I’m not going to tell you anything important’ thing too. Awesome.”

Bruce ignored the jab, addressing Damian directly. “Go upstairs. Your mother is waiting for you.”

Damian hesitated, but only for a second. With a curt nod, he turned and made his way toward the stairwell leading back into the Manor, leaving the others behind to stew in their confusion.

“Bruce,” Dick said after a beat, “you can’t seriously expect us to just let this go. Damian has an older sister. That’s—kind of a big deal.”

Bruce’s gaze remained steady, but his silence was answer enough.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “How long have you known?”

Bruce exhaled as if the weight of the conversation was something he had long anticipated but hoped to avoid. “Since the moment she was born.”

Tim threw his hands up. “Unbelievable. You knew, and you didn’t tell any of us?”

“It wasn’t your concern,” Bruce said calmly, though there was a trace of something weary in his voice. “She’s not part of this life. Not in the way that matters.”

“Then what life is she part of?” Barbara asked. “Because the way she walked in here, it feels like she’s pretty comfortable with all of this.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, the smallest crack in his usual composure. “She was raised to be Talia’s heir. The League is her world. She keeps to her duties there.”

“And now she’s here.” Dick folded his arms, frustration clear on his face. “That’s a problem, Bruce.”

Bruce’s gaze darkened slightly. “It isn’t. She’s not an enemy.”

Tim scoffed. “Not yet, maybe.”

“Enough,” Bruce said sharply, cutting off further argument. “She came here to see her brother. That’s all.”

Dick wasn’t ready to drop it. “And what happens when she comes back next time? What happens when she decides the League’s business is our business?”

Bruce’s silence lingered, heavy and impenetrable.

Barbara shook her head, clearly unsettled. “You really think this won’t blow up in our faces? Because I’ve got a bad feeling it will.”

“Let me handle it,” Bruce said quietly, a hint of finality in his tone. “When the time comes, I’ll deal with her.”

Tim crossed his arms, unconvinced. “Right. Because that always works out so well.”

Dick let out a breath, tension still clinging to his shoulders. “Whatever. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

They all knew what that meant. In their line of work, things rarely stayed quiet for long. And now, with Damian’s sister lurking in the background, things were bound to get more complicated.

Upstairs in Wayne Manor

Talia al Ghul sipped her tea from delicate porcelain, her poise immaculate as ever. She sat gracefully in one of the high-backed chairs in Bruce’s study as if she were a guest rather than a dangerous woman from his past.

Damian stood near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Y/n leaned casually against the wall beside him, her expression cool and distant. The siblings shared a silent understanding as if words were unnecessary between them.

“You’re staying for long?” Damian asked his sister quietly.

Y/n shook her head, her green eyes flickering with a softness reserved only for him. “No. Mother’s business here won’t take much longer.”

Talia’s gaze remained on Bruce, studying him with that familiar intensity. “You should feel fortunate, beloved,” Talia said smoothly. “Our daughter was quite insistent on seeing her brother.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “And you let her walk into the Batcave.”

Talia gave a small, amused smile. “She wished to test your hospitality. Clearly, there is room for improvement.”

Bruce didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he looked toward the girl standing silently beside Damian.

“You know where you stand,” he said quietly. “If you ever need—”

“I don’t,” Y/n interrupted, her voice sharp but not unkind. “I stand with him. That is all that matters.”

There was a long pause.

Then Talia rose gracefully from her seat, setting her cup aside. “Come, children. We have work to do.”

Without a word, Y/n followed their mother toward the door. But just before leaving, she glanced back at Bruce one last time, her expression unreadable.

“Try to keep him safe,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

And then she was gone, a shadow disappearing into the night, leaving Bruce to wonder how long it would be before she returned—and what would happen when she did.

The door to the study closed softly behind Talia, Damian, and Y/n, leaving Bruce in silence. He exhaled slowly, staring at the spot where they had stood moments before, a familiar weight settling onto his shoulders. This wasn’t just a fleeting encounter. He knew it, and so did they.

He remained seated for a moment longer, letting the quiet of the Manor stretch around him, before rising and heading back toward the Batcave. There would be questions, distrust, and arguments waiting below. And this time, he wasn’t entirely sure what answers he could give.

Outside Wayne Manor

The night air was crisp and cool as the trio walked toward a sleek black car waiting in the driveway, guarded by two of Talia’s elite assassins. The League’s presence was discreet but felt, even here on neutral ground.

Y/n walked in measured silence beside Damian, their pace synchronized without effort. They had fought together enough times to move like two halves of the same whole.

“You didn’t have to come,” Damian muttered, his voice low, only for her ears.

Y/n’s sharp gaze flicked toward him. “I always come when I hear you are in danger.”

“I wasn’t in danger.”

“Not from your enemies,” Y/n replied calmly, “but you forget—Mother and I know how this family operates.” Her green eyes, so like his, glimmered in the moonlight. “You are surrounded by people who distrust you. That is danger enough.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew she was right.

Talia, who had been walking slightly ahead, glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smile. “The two of you should remember,” she said in a light tone, “family bonds are precious things. And fragile.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Y/n replied without missing a beat.

Talia’s smile lingered. “Good.”

They reached the waiting car, and Talia turned, brushing a hand lightly over Damian’s shoulder—a rare, fleeting gesture of affection.

“We will speak again soon, my son,” she said softly. Then her gaze drifted toward her daughter. “And you—ensure your brother remembers who he is.”

The young woman gave a curt nod. “I always do.”

Talia’s lips curved ever so slightly in satisfaction. She stepped gracefully into the backseat of the car, leaving her children to exchange one last glance.

“I don’t need your protection,” Damian muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

“You’ve always needed it,” Y/n replied dryly. “Even when you think you don’t.”

Damian scowled, but there was something akin to fondness in the way his gaze lingered on her.

“You’ll visit again?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t quite a question—more a statement of expectation.

“Of course.” Y/n reached out, briefly ruffling his hair with the ease of an older sibling who knew she could get away with it. Damian glared, but she only smirked. “I’ll be back sooner than you think.”

With that, she turned and slipped into the car beside their mother. The door clicked shut, and without another word, the car pulled away, its taillights vanishing into the shadows.

Damian stood alone in the driveway for a moment, watching it disappear into the night. Y/n always came when he needed her. Even when he didn’t realize he needed her.

With a quiet breath, he turned and headed back toward the Manor, feeling strangely lighter despite the storm brewing inside the Batcave below.

Back in the Batcave

Bruce stepped down the last stair into the cave, and as expected, the conversation had only grown more heated in his absence.

“Bruce, we have to talk about this!” Dick was saying, his voice raised in frustration. “You can’t just let League-trained assassins walk in and out of our house like it’s nothing!”

Tim shook his head. “For all we know, she’s playing a long game. Damian trusts her, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

“She didn’t come here as an assassin,” Bruce said, his tone calm but firm.

Dick turned toward him, exasperated. “Then what did she come here as, Bruce? His sister? Do you believe that’s all she is?”

Bruce’s expression didn’t shift. “Yes.”

Barbara crossed her arms, skeptical. “Even if that’s true—and I’m not saying it is—what’s stopping her from dragging Damian back into the League’s messes? What happens if Talia decides it’s time to reclaim him?”

“She won’t.” Bruce’s answer was simple, certain.

“And you know that… how?” Tim challenged. “Because she said so?”

Bruce’s gaze was unreadable. “Because her loyalty isn’t to Talia. It’s to Damian.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions, doubts, and frustration. But Bruce knew none of them could fully understand the dynamic at play—not yet.

“You have every reason to be cautious,” Bruce continued. “But she isn’t here to fight us. Not today. She’s here because she cares about her brother. That’s enough—for now.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, but Dick held up a hand. “Fine. For now.” He shot Bruce a meaningful look. “But we keep an eye on her. If she comes back, we need to know about it.”

Bruce gave a small nod, though he knew that watching her would accomplish little. She had been raised by the League. If she didn’t want to be found, they wouldn’t see her coming.

Barbara sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“None of us do,” Tim muttered.

Dick glanced toward the empty stairwell where Damian had disappeared earlier. “So, what now? We just… wait?”

“For now,” Bruce said quietly. “We wait.”

————————

Somewhere in Gotham

In the backseat of the car, Y/n stared out the window as the city lights blurred by. Her hands rested calmly in her lap, but her mind was far from still. This visit had only been the beginning.

“I assume you found what you were looking for,” Talia murmured beside her, watching her daughter carefully.

“I did,” Y/n replied. “Damian is… as he should be.”

Talia smiled faintly. “And the others?”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. “They’ll never trust me.”

“Good,” Talia whispered. “It is better that way.”

Y/n didn’t reply, her thoughts already drifting ahead to the future. This was just the first move in a long game.

She had no interest in Gotham’s petty power struggles. But Damian was part of this world now—and that meant she would be too, sooner or later. Whether the Batfamily liked it or not.

And when the time came, they would see just how far she was willing to go to protect her brother. No matter the cost.

Bonus Chapter:

The lights in the Batcave hummed softly, the enormous space unusually quiet. The others had gone for the night—Tim back to his apartment, Dick out on patrol, Barbara working from her own space. Bruce was still upstairs, giving Damian some time alone after the tense encounter earlier.

But Damian wasn’t alone for long.

He sat at the edge of the platform where the Batmobile was parked, legs dangling over the side, a rare moment of stillness in his life. The cave felt different tonight like something was unsettled, but not in a way that put him on edge. It was the kind of quiet that came before a storm—calm, expectant. He welcomed it.

Out of the shadows, Y/n came, her presence so subtle he almost didn’t notice. Almost.

“You should be gone by now,” Damian muttered without looking up, though there was no real annoyance in his voice. “Mother doesn’t like waiting.”

Y/n’s soft footfalls echoed faintly as she approached. “Mother can wait.”

She sat down beside him, silent for a few moments, her gaze scanning the depths of the cave. “It hasn’t changed much,” she observed.

“No,” Damian replied. “It hasn’t.”

The two siblings sat side by side, neither saying much, but the tension that had hovered over the Batcave earlier was nowhere to be found between them. This was their space—a quiet corner of the world where they didn’t need to pretend.

“Does it bother you?” Y/n asked finally, her voice softer than usual.

Damian glanced at her. “What?”

“Being here. With them.” She didn’t say the Batfamily, but the implication was clear.

Damian considered the question carefully, not out of hesitation, but because it was complicated. “Not anymore,” he answered after a moment. “It did at first. But it’s different now.”

Y/n hummed in acknowledgment, though her expression remained unreadable. “That’s good.”

Damian tilted his head slightly, watching her closely. “What about you?”

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Y/n said with a faint smile. “Though that may not always be the case.”

Damian frowned, sensing the deeper meaning beneath her words. “You’re not leaving the League.” It wasn’t a question—just a fact.

“No,” Y/n confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll always stay away.”

Damian folded his arms, his gaze sharpening. “If the League ever moves against Gotham—”

“It won’t be by my hand,” Y/n interrupted, her voice steady and sure. “Not against you, Damian. Never against you.”

The weight behind those words was palpable, a silent vow spoken aloud. They might serve different masters—Damian, the Bat; Y/n, the League—but their bond ran deeper than any allegiance.

Damian gave a short nod, satisfied. He knew she meant it. “The others will never trust you, you know.”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/n’s lips. “Good. Trust makes people weak. Distrust keeps them sharp.”

“You sound like Mother.”

“I’ve had good teachers.” Y/n smiled, a rare glimpse of warmth breaking through her otherwise cold demeanor.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment longer, the kind that only siblings shared. No need for explanations. No pretense.

Then Y/n shifted, brushing her shoulder against his in a way that felt oddly affectionate. “Do you want me to teach you something new?” she asked lightly, a playful glint in her eyes.

Damian raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Something the Bat hasn’t shown you yet,” Y/n teased. “Mother taught me a few new techniques you might find… useful.”

Damian’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile he ever allowed in front of others. “Alright. Show me.”

They stood together, slipping easily into their familiar rhythm. They’d sparred like this since childhood—silent, fluid, understanding each other’s movements in a way no one else could. For a brief moment, it was like they were children again, back in the League’s hidden training grounds, fighting side by side under Talia’s watchful gaze.

But this time, they weren’t sparring as weapons of the League. They were just two siblings, enjoying a fleeting moment of peace in a world that never gave them any.

The cave was theirs tonight, and for now, that was enough.

Upstairs in the Manor

Talia sat at the window of the guest room, watching the moonlight spill across the grounds. She could hear the faintest echoes of movement from the Batcave below—her children, lost in their own world.

Bruce stood in the doorway behind her, silent, his presence as familiar to her as her own shadow.

“You always wanted them to be close,” he said quietly, stepping into the room. “And they are.”

Talia’s lips curved into a soft, wistful smile. “They are all we ever did right, beloved.”

Bruce didn’t respond. There was no need. In some ways, Talia was right. Damian and Y/n were both products of worlds built on shadows and violence, but in each other, they had found something rare—something unbreakable.

For a moment, the silence between Bruce and Talia was easy, like slipping into an old memory. They had shared countless battles, betrayals, and regrets. But tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about the fragile peace hanging between their children—and the delicate threads of trust that might one day hold them together.

“Will she stay away from Gotham?” Bruce asked after a while, though he already knew the answer.

Talia didn’t turn from the window. “Not forever.” A pause, then a knowing smile. “She’ll come back when Damian needs her. And perhaps, one day, when you do as well.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. “That day may come sooner than any of us want.”

Talia rose gracefully from her chair, crossing the room to stand in front of him. She rested a hand lightly on his chest, just over his heart.

“You raised Damian well,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “But don’t forget—I raised Y/n.”

There was no threat in her words, only a reminder. A quiet acknowledgment that their daughter was both a product of love and war, molded by both of them, yet ultimately beyond their control.

Talia smiled one last time and brushed past Bruce, her scent lingering in the air like a fading dream. “Good night, beloved,” she whispered, and with that, she was gone, disappearing down the hall like a ghost.

Bruce stood alone in the dim room, his gaze drifting toward the window and the moonlight beyond.

He knew, without a doubt, that Y/n would return. The only question was when—and what side she’d stand on when the time came.

For now, all he could do was wait.

[haleswallows]

*Biting my knuckles, kicking the air, giggling like mad*

Can we make it Three votes for knight smut!?When I saw your initial reblog first thought was “OHHHH it’s not a Want it’s a NEED”

The scene of Tim pressing his face into Danny’s hip and Danny repeats to himself ‘friends’ lives rent FREE. Tim pulling Danny closer to himself when he sleeps is so RAHH so cute. He wants that cookie so bad. They both do. It’s insufferable (affectionate)

Regardless! Whether you do or you don’t I’m still gonna be here kicking my feet like mad! Thank you for writing and sharing it with us! Have a good one!

i regret absolutely nothing, this was so fun to write 🎶

The sound of the door did little to distract Danny from his task. A droll task, that of reviewing taxes and land ownership and endless numbers of annual yields. Frankly, if Danny never saw again bushels of wheat in the messy scrawl of a Lands' taxman, Danny would consider it a kindness.

Ancients, did Pariah Dark bother with all this? Definitely not, Danny decided, flipping back a few pages to the sorry state of the previous records. Even with all his hard work the last decade, it was still —.

"Danny?" called a voice Danny would know blinded. Tim, a smile pulled at Danny's face and he warmed. Easily, he let the feeling of gentle affection weave through the bond.

"In the study," he called back, tilting only slightly from the records as he spoke. Danny kept his finger firmly planted on the line, lest he lose his spot and have to start over again.

It proved to be for nothing — at the sound of the door pushing open, Danny glanced up. Then froze, mouthing parting.

The sight of Prince Timothy, the third son of Gotham and High Chief's Consort, in armor and standards wasn't a new sight to Danny. But it was a rare one.

It never ceased to impress Danny — partially due to the grace of which Tim maneuvered himself in the armor, but also the intimidating form he made while fully kitted. Though Tim did not wear full plate armor, preferring a blend of chainmaille and strategic armor pieces, it still cut a fiendish figure.

Danny's mouth went dry. Heat pooled in his belly, zinging down his spine and sending his fingers tingling. Any hope to keeping his mind on task to analyze taxes was entirely lost to lust. The Armet helm fully obscured Tim's face, but Danny swore he could see the gleam of his blue eyes behind the visor.

Of course, there was no hiding his reaction. And no hope to salvage any sort of dignity. The bond betrayed Danny immediately. Tim's amused-affection-interest answered Danny, doubling and tripling the heat dancing up his spine in a feedback loop.

"Hello, husband." Tim's voice echoed oddly in the helm, but the affection and play in his tone was obvious.

"Hi," Danny stupidly answered, breathy and unable to think of anything else to say.

For a beat, they considered one another. Then, the moment broke as Tim took a step. Danny pushed himself away from the desk and moved to stand, to meet Tim, to pull of the helm and press his lips to Tim's throat and taste the salt there. Though, a clipped command of "Stay" from the prince had Danny stilling.

Tim drew up in front of Danny. He offered his hands to Danny. "Assist me with my gauntlets, sire."

Danny took in the gauntlets, flicked his eyes over the bracers he'd gifted Tim for their second wedding, then up to the faceless helm. He licked his lips. With nimble fingers, it was only a matter of pulling the articulated gauntlets from Tim's hands and leaving behind the padded leather gloves.

Though, as Danny reached for the bracer buckles on Tim's forearm, his hands were swatted away.

Tim stepped between Danny's knees, impossibly close, and pressed a gloved hand to his chest. "Stay," he commanded again. "Keep your hands here." The instruction came with a tap to Danny's thigh with Tim's other hand.

Danny's mind blanked. He struggled to follow the order. Afterall, he was High Chief and not so used to following them. But he found himself helplessly obeying Tim's directions. Especially as the man drew back what felt like only a hair's breadth to begin pulling his gloves off one finger at a time. Danny watched, transfixed, as skin slowly revealed.

Tim then turned his efforts to the arm harness. The tie came undone from beneath the tabard, Tim slowly pulled until the pauldron came loose. Carefully, he set it on the desk. The other pauldron followed it closely.

Next, Tim moved onto his bracers. Merely the sight of them, the very bracers Danny gifted to Tim on their second wedding night, made Danny's heart clench and his breath catch. He watched Tim's slender and calloused fingers work the buckles, wishing they were on his skin and not the leather strapping. Again, Tim took his time removing the armor — left and then right — before setting them on to the desk.

All the while, Danny watched. Dug his fingers into the fabric of his pants to keep his hands to himself while he yearned to snatch up Tim's hands and press those fingertips to his lips.

The helm tilted. Tim lifted the tabard to reveal the paunce of plates. "Your assistance, my lord, if I may request it."

Something in the request, the arching formality sent Danny trembling. Even with Tim standing so close between Danny's thighs, he had to lean forward to reach the buckle on the back. This close, even through the the armor, Danny could feel the warmth of his husband. Through the slot of the helmet, a hint of Tim's face came visible — the cut of his jaw, a plush lip.

Uncaring, Danny dropped the paunce of plates on the floor. Still, Tim held the tabard up, keeping on display the lendenier, the belt that held up his cuisses. "Will you attend to me, sire?" he murmured.

Danny obliged. He rose from the chair. The movement crowded Tim and he fell back a step until his hips met the desk. In front of him, Danny wasted no time dropping to his knees. He took Tim's foot into his lap, fingers slipping into the straps of the greaves. Danny rolled his lips in, admiring the strength of his husband, the beauty of him. He slid hands up and up and up to find the ties of the arms garment.

One hand braced against the cuisse, Danny found the cord and tugged.

The armor came away in his hands and he set it aside, almost belligerent in his disregard for the haste he dropped it to get his hands back on the delectable thighs in front of him.

Danny pressed his hands into the muscles of Tim's thigh, cupped the back where it met glute and felt the muscle tremble. The bond lit bright with pleasure-excited-hurry. But Danny would not be rushed.

He worshiped. Because what good was he for if not to love this man?

The greave came away easily. Lastly, the sabaton. With clever maneuvering, it slipped from Tim's boot. Again, Danny swept his hands up. Even through stockings, the padded leggings, he relished every moment touching Tim. Muscle, svelte and firm, beneath his palm. Danny felt like he was on fire, liable to start aflame at any moment if not for the ice in his core. The increasing urgent press of the bond let him know Tim felt the same.

Danny was losing his mind. As much as he could not stop pouring his want into the bond, Tim couldn't either. Together, they made a spiraling mess of emotions, working each other up.

Gently, he guided Tim to slide his foot from his lap. With a deliberate care, he repeated the service to Tim's other leg. Cuisse, greave, sabaton. The only sounds to accompany Danny's achingly devoted care was the clanking of metal and his own heart in his ears. Noisily, he breathed deep through his nose. Panting, half-hard in his pants, holding himself at bay from ravishing Tim with only the gut-clench of his indomitable will.

By the end of it, Danny felt winded. Trembling. Stretched thin and desperate. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Tim's knee and looked up through his eyelashes at the helm. Barely, he resisted rubbing his face into the lendenier.

Tim's chest heaved, visible even under the chainmail shirt and the padded arming garment beneath that. Danny's eye caught on the minute tremor of Tim's hands, the way the lendenier accentuated the trim slimness of Tim's waist, the spread of his legs. Every detail, delicious and acted as kindling to the fever that had been slowly building under Danny's skin.

And of course, he couldn't overlook to the nearness of his face to Tim's groin. In fact, Danny could see Tim's erection straining against the linen of the leggings Tim wore beneath his gambeson and armor. A small wet circle of precum stained the fabric.

Danny knew in less than a heartbeat exactly what he wanted.

"May I continue to service you, Your Highness?"

It's been months and months since Tim was 'the prince' or 'Your Highness'. But the game they played now — Danny found a type of excitement, a trill of something eager and yawning inside him to kneel before his prince and beg in that pretty doublespeak.

But they were playing a game. Tim shifted to press the soft-soled boot to Danny's groin, inspiring a groan. He applied pressure, and something Danny couldn't quite name pooled in his belly — surrender, excite, approval. He didn't know what Tim could discern from the bond, but it must have been something he liked.

As answer, Tim widened his legs. Just as he settled more firmly against the desk, he hefted the chainmaille and tabard higher. A clear invitation.

"You may," Tim affected, demure.

Danny took a deep and shaking breath. That will and patience continued to guide him as he carefully unlaced the lendenier. Then it was quick work to push down the leggings just enough to expose Tim's cock.

Finally, Tim nearly sobbed with relief, helm thrown back. Then again, a cry bitten off as Danny curled fingers around the base of his cock, licked a long stripe from root to tip and took it into his mouth.

Pleasure, lightning bright and warmer than any flame sang through the bond. It ricocheted down his spine and went straight to his cock. Danny moaned.

What sweet pleasure, to know his own want and feel it reflected back. To feel the result of his affections and administrations. There was no other place Danny could think to be, on his knees for his husband and bracketed by his thighs. And even unseen under the helm, Danny knew the effect he had on Tim — from the quiver of his thighs to the shortness of his breath.

It tasted sweet on his tongue.

Danny lavished attention on Tim. The taste of his precum made Danny's pulse rabbit, the only sound in his ears Tim's pants and low curses. Here, Tim's natural scent and musk filled Danny's nose. In his own pants, his cock strained and Danny couldn't keep from palming himself, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. This was what he liked best, giving sweetly to Tim's demands and his husband taking his pleasure from him however he wished.

He took as much of Tim's cock into his mouth as he could, nose brushing against the tidy nest of pubic hair. With the portion he could not get into his mouth, Danny jerked off with his other hand in time with his sucking and licking.

"Gods," Tim breathed, hand fisting into Danny's hair. A stuttered jerk of his hips was the only instruction Danny needed. He let his mouth fall slack, tilting back just so. Shifting his hands to the firm muscle of Tim's outer thighs, Danny looked up through his eyelashes to find the helmet tilted in consideration. From the slot, just the slightest glimmer of Tim's eyes were visible.

Danny half wished Tim would take the helm off. But also enjoyed their little game, the thrill of it warm in his belly. "You serve me so well," he praised. And Danny felt a flush spread over his body, delighted.

It took only those words. Danny's cock twitched in his pants.

Tim shifted his grip, moving to cup Danny's head. Tenderly, so gently that Danny's eyes fluttered. He marveled, for a moment, at the delicate way Tim treated him. As if breakable, as if worthy of being precious.

Tears almost sprang to Danny's eyes. Even without words, just from the caress and the unending warmth in the bond, Danny knew. Knew, as a natural truth, that Tim loved him. As the sun rose and stars shone, it was true.

Then, those clever fingers twisted in his hair. Tim held Danny firmly in place as he began to fuck gently into his mouth. Danny breathed heavily through his nose, saliva pooling in his mouth. Picking up his pace, Danny sucked hard on the tip of Tim's cock and watched the expressionless helm.

He didn't need to see Tim's face. The bond spoke volumes what the helm could not conceal. Danny's world shrank to that — the silken weight of Tim's cock on his tongue, and the spiraling loop of pleasure. As Tim chased his own pleasure between Danny's lips, the bond lit and trembled.

Then as Danny pressed a palm to his own cock, the bond sparked again with his pleasure. Tim's hips stuttered in response.

Danny groaned around Tim, eyes slipping closed for a moment. His eyes flew open again as Tim brushed a thumb under his eye then pressed it to the corner of his mouth.

"So good, sire. Perfect just for me."

Another time, Danny might drag it out — take his time, find the balance of slowly pulling pleasure out of Tim, letting them spiral and float in that sweet satisfaction they found in each other. But right then, Danny felt half wild and desperate, as if he had taken a deep breath of wild magic.

Danny dove forward, swallowing down more of Tim's cock. For a moment, Tim's grip tightened painfully in his hair and even that was a sharp edge pf pleasure — and how fucked was Danny, that he loved that too. Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes as he swallowed down further until the head of Tim's cock brushed the back of his throat.

Ancient, the noises Tim made. Danny could get drunk on it, sweeter than any mead and more filling than any meal. If he could, he would nourish himself on Tim alone — his love, his body. He sucked desperately and bobbed his head, toes curling as each pants and obscene sound sent writhing jolt of pleasure down his spine.

Achingly hard, Danny squeezed his dick. Tim's fingers spasmed in his hair.

"Close," he ground out, hips jerking. Danny breathed heavily through his nose, maintaining his pace. His lips felt swollen and slick, a dribble of spit running down his chin as he devoted himself to the task.

Soon enough, Tim shouted wordlessly. At first, he bowed over Danny's head. As his orgasm shook through him, Tim leaned further back against the desk and let it take his weight with a clatter of his armor.

All the while, Danny rode out the shocks of pleasure through the bond. He puffed and panted, trembling on the verge of his own release. Tim calmed and peered down at Danny through his helm. Something like smug and self-satisfied filtered through the bond as he took in Danny's state.

"Look at you, my lord," he murmured. "Look at this mess."

Tim smoothed a hand through Danny's hair, righting where he had mussed it. Danny fought for only a moment to not lean into it, and then gave in. He watched from under hooded eyes as Tim carefully wiped the spit from his face, the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Each touch only served to make Danny's body sing. He panted through his nose, winded and heart pounding.

He just knew Tim was smirking under that blasted helm.

"Well, go on then, my lord," came the order. Languid, Tim leaned back against the desk. Hand on Danny's cheek, thumb caressing. "Come for me, sire. Use your hands."

Though his eyes fluttered, Danny kept his gaze on the slot of the helm. Knowing Tim's attention was fully his, Danny wasted no time shoving down his slacks. Finally, he stroked his cock. Danny preferred Tim's hands, mouth, anything on him. But for now, his eyes were heavy. His back arched, head pressing into Tim's hand and stroked long and hard along his cock.

"You're so pretty like this," Tim hummed. "On your knees, desperate. Come on, Danny, come for me."

It took only that. The final echoes of Tim's release still rippling through the bond, his husband's voice, the command and his own frenzied need. With just a few stroke, Danny came over the floor between his knees.

Oh, Ancients. Someone was going to have that clean that up. Danny, most likely. Though he could not find it in himself to care. He leaned heavily against Tim's leg, struggling to catch his breath and vision fuzzy on his edges as he struggled to calm himself.

He came to himself with the sound of Tim's voice in his ears, a low soothing murmur. Danny hauled his eyes open, surprised to see Tim must have removed the helm.

His hair was sweaty and matted, his face flush. Tim smiled indulgently down at him, fingers playing along the jut of his jaw and stroking up to trace the long point of his ear. Danny shivered.

Tim's smile slipped. "No —!" he started, cutting off into a wordless protest as Danny surged to his feet. He mashed their mouths together, swallowing down Tim's continued complaint. "Danny!" he managed, purely by planting hands onto Danny's shoulders and pushing.

"Yes, husband?" Danny diverted is attempts to kiss to Tim to lathing attention on his neck. Tim shuddered, breath catching. Victorious, Danny pushed the tabard and maille higher up to find the creases where Tim's groin and hips met.

"I must insist you at least —," Tim interrupted himself to gasp, arching up so that Danny could grab firm handfuls of his ass. "My lord, the bed."

"But," Danny argued. He smiled where he kissed along Tim's throat. He found the pulse point and sucked. Something bright and pleasure-need-want burst in the bond. "What wonderful memories I would have for the next time I work at the desk if we fuck here?"

"Shameless." The rebuke was weak, ruined by the reflected pleasure and smile in Tim's voice. He ruined it further by throwing his head back to give Danny more access to his neck.

"Shameless," Danny agreed.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Candy Shop Order for @wolfqueenxxx - Hellfire Cinnamon Candy, Strawberry Sherbet, Bittersweet Dark Chocolate, 7

Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Angst, “I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you’re dense as fuck.”

sorry if this is bad, I still don't quite know how to write angst all that well.

Requests now closed

Word Count:1,051

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

You sat, slumped over your knees, mascara tracks down your once perfectly pink cheeks, and your perfectly styled hair now falling down around you in a loose mess. The sounds of bubblegum pop music pounds from behind closed doors. Tonight was supposed to be your dream night, the night you had thought about your entire teenage life. Your prom night. The one night of the year that you could dress up, be pretty and dance the night away with the guy of your dreams holding you tight.

Except it wasn’t the guy of your dreams holding you tight on the dance floor. No. Instead you were met with the amused scoff of your date who had only asked you as a date just to laugh you off in front of his friends, laughing at how you could possibly believe that a guy as popular as him could actually fall for a gullible girl like you.

The guy of your dreams, however pathetically sad it may seem, was your best friend, Eddie. Eddie, with his soft, kind brown eyes, shaggy brown curls, adorably boyish smile, and his  devil-may-care attitude. The boy who drew you in like a magnet, and treated you with nothing but warmth and made you laugh with his silly antics and enthusiasm for everything he did and loved. The boy who slung his arm around you and hugged you at every opportunity just because he could. All those cosy late night movie marathons spent with him in his trailer. All the times you loudly and proudly cheered for him in a handful of drunk patrons in a dingy dive bar. And those summers spent together at the lakes, just being carefree until the hazy summer sun fades to a swirling pink sky. 

That was the boy who you hoped would hold you on the dance floor as the pair of you twirlied under the sparkling lights of the disco ball.

You hoped that he would finally see you as something more than a friend. Longing to have that perfect moment where you would tell him exactly how you feel about him, and stupidly you hoped that maybe he would feel the same.

But he wasn’t here.

And now you were here, sitting on the cold steps outside the school’s auditorium, feeling upset and embarrassed, as your fingers fumbled with the buckles of your silver kitten heeled shoes.  No point in wearing them now, anyway.  

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling sorry for yourself, but it was long enough that the evening’s chill began to seep into your bones. Until all of a sudden the chill wasn’t seeping in like before. Without you really even being aware, a heavy leather jacket was placed over your shoulders, the all too familiar scent of a woodsy cologne and cigarettes clinging to the material.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you sniffle, quickly trying to wipe away the obvious black smear stains of your misery with the back of your hand.

“Henderson called me. Told me you ran off. You wanna talk about it?” he says, taking a seat on the step next to you.

You sink into yourself, not even beginning to know where to start. You want to talk, you want to tell him what happened, but the words feel stuck.

“You know, I thought it was going to be you that I got to dance with tonight.”

And suddenly being nothing more than the laugh of the week for the jocks wasn’t what you wanted to talk about. And then faster than your brain can keep up with your heart and your mouth you began to spill your closely held secret to Eddie.

“C’mon now, prom really isn’t my scene. How d’ya think people are going to look at me when I turn up in some stupid rented tux?” he laughed at himself, to lighten the mood and just to see you smile.

But smiling was the last thing you felt like doing right now.

“I waited and waited for you to ask me to prom and you never did.” your voice comes out like the softest whisper.

“How was I supposed to know you even wanted me to go to prom with you? It’s not like you even like me like that.” 

Oh how wrong he was.

There’s an uncomfortable and uncommon silence that hangs in the air for longer than either of you would like.

“You don't like me, at least not like anything more than a friend.” Eddie says so assuredly that it makes you mad at how oblivious he could be.

And then all that embarrassment, anger and frustration bubbles over until you're exploding. 

“I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you’re dense as fuck.”

“You love me?” Eddie says, a shocked stutter stunting his words.

“Yeah, but it's not like it matters all that much anymore.” You say, standing up to leave.

“How was I supposed to know you had any feelings for me when you never said anything?” Eddie says defensively. 

“You hold me when we're watching movies late into the night. You kiss me on the cheek like it means something more, and then you pull away so easily. You can't just do stuff like that, Eddie. You can't give me hope that you have these feelings for me when you don't.”

“But what if I did.” He says stopping you in your tracks. “What if I did feel the same about you as you did for me?” 

“You don't have to pretend, Eddie. I've been the butt of everyone's joke tonight, and I really don't need you to lie to me on top of it.” You sigh.

“But-”

“-Eddie, please, you're my closest friend, and I really don't think I could handle it if you break my heart, so please spare me.”

You walk off, everything just felt like too much right now. Maybe in the light of the morning you might be able to face the consequences of your words, and find the courage to talk to Eddie, but right now you just need to be alone.

@abitchyouhate @penguinsandpringleheads @mrsjellymunson @seatnights @rebelfell @sidereustales @myherometalhead @28bohemianmoons @ali-r3n

[reccyls]

A Dangerous Deal with Victor (Villains in CASINO - Victor’s story)

My translation of Victor's casino event story

---

We infiltrated Gloria, a casino swirling with dark rumors including everything from illegal gambling, shady deals, and various other claims from eyewitnesses. I was posing as a waitress, while Victor pretended to be a dealer. However…

Young Lady: Oooh! Over here, Mr. Dealer!

Beautiful Noblewoman: If I win the next hand, will you tell me your name!?

Victor: Please calm down, ladies. I’m glad you’re having fun, but I am just a dealer here.

I was not having a good time at all. Victor looked so handsome as a dealer that all the female customers were flocking to his table, the sound of their squealing filled the air.

(I mean, it’s not a surprise to me that Victor’s popular.)

The problem was with what he was wearing.

(Of course people will go crazy if he leaves his chest exposed like that!)

All of the other dealers wore their shirts perfectly buttoned up. But for some reason, Victor had left his partially unbuttoned, showing off his chest. The female customers were all staring at his chest, absolutely entranced.

(But he’s mine…)

Unable to hold back any longer, I began walking in his direction. When he noticed me approaching, his expression lit up. But then…

Kate: The owner needs to talk to you. Come around to the back.

I spoke loudly enough for the flock of customers nearby to hear, and then without waiting for an answer, I took Victor by the arm and started walking.

Victor: What’s the matter? Did something happen?

The moment we reached somewhere isolated enough, I raised my voice.

Kate: Cover your chest!

Victor: Huh?

Victor looked baffled as I grabbed his shirt and began struggling to button it up myself.

Kate: Look at all those people drooling over how sexy you are! Kate: You have to hide your chest, before any more damage is done!

He clasped my wrist, tilting his head in askance.

Victor: But what about you? You don’t think I’m sexy?

(Not that face again…)

I couldn’t resist that pout, and let my cheek rest against his chest.

Kate: …You’re my boyfriend, but everyone else was looking… Kate: I don’t want them to see… you’re mine…

My protest came out as a whisper, and I felt his body tremble.

Victor: …Ohh my, how can my girlfriend be so adorable!!

His arms wrapped around me in a tight hug.

Victor: Ah… Kate, you’re seriously too cute. Victor: This is the first time you’ve gotten jealous like this, isn’t it?

He nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head. I felt embarrassment sweep through me.

Kate: It’s the first time I’ve said it, but I’ve felt like this before…

Our status, our positions, and the environments we grew up in were so different. And they were so obvious that I’d never voiced my jealousy. But now that we were lovers, I could finally tell him how I felt. He released me and drew some playing cards from his pocket.

Victor: Well, why don’t we make a little wager? I’ll draw two cards, and one of them is a joker.

He showed me a joker card and the ace of clubs, and then put his hands behind his back as he shuffled them around. When he extended his arms again, I saw a face-down card in each hand.

Victor: If you pick the ace, you win, and I’ll button up.

Kate: …Okay.

After some deliberation, I pointed to the card on the right.

Victor: Is that your final answer?

Kate: Yes.

I held my breath as he turned over the card, revealing… …the ace of clubs.

Victor: What a shame, that’s my loss.

With exaggerated resignation, Victor pointed to his shirt.

Victor: Since you’re here, why doesn’t the winner do the honors of buttoning me up?

Kate: All right. And don’t unbutton it again.

As satisfaction coursed through me, I reached out to grab Victor’s shirt in order to do up his buttons. The movement of cloth revealed a mark on his skin, one I had left on Victor last night.

(Ah-)

I snapped my head up, only to see Victor grinning down at me.

Victor: I should say, from my perspective, I was just warning everyone that I’m taken.

Kate: You were showing that on pur-

As I realized what Victor had done, I blushed furiously and looked away. But his hand curled around the back of my head, gently guiding my face towards his neck.

Victor: But since you want my shirt closed, next time, you should leave your claim somewhere more visible.

His hair fell around me like a curtain.

Victor: So everyone will know that I belong to you.

Following his lead, I stretched up and pressed my lips to the side of his neck. I didn’t notice that the two cards fluttering to the ground by our feet were both identical.

[f1tales]

is it that sweet? i guess so - mv1

that's that me espresso || part two

previous part || next part

pairing: max verstappen x ofc!piastri

summary: oscar’s older sister is a singer, who’s taylor swift’s opening act for the eras tour. she goes to a few races on her break. she meets max; who thinks about her every night now. much to oscar’s annoyance.

face claim: sabrina carpenter

"You know people are on to us right?"

Ivy curled herself up to Max's side. She drew shapes on his chest. She looked up to meet Max's eyes. She bit her lip as she thought back to when Lando messaged her on Instagram just after the Australian Grand Prix.

She had been extrememly giddy when she entered the club for the Australian GP after party that Lando had invited her to. He had messaged her earlier about how Max wanted her number.

They had met briefly, but oh my god, Ivy was mesmerized by his deep blue eyes and adorable smile. Her hands were trembling as she made her way through the club to join Lando and his friends.

Max had been there.

And he had bought her drink, as Ivy had suggested he'd do before he went off to scold Lando for sliding in Ivy's DM's for him.

Ivy and Max ended up talking the entire night in the far corner of the VIP section of the fancy club. She decided she liked to hear him talk; she liked his accent. He had escorted her out of the club with a firm hand on the small of her back at two in the morning. He ordered a taxi for them to share and held her hand as they drove through the streets of Melbourne.

Max told the taxi driver to wait outside her building so he could walk her to the door. And okay, Ivy admits, the bar was set pretty low by her shitty exes, but it was one of the nicest things someone had done for her.

They had stood in silence for a while.

"I-," they laughed when they both spoke at the same time.

"Will you let me take you out tomorrow?" Max had asked as he held her hand.

Ivy had smiled at him, "I would. But I'm off to Perth to work on my next album." She squeezed his hand. She dropped his hand to fish a piece of paper out of her purse. She had shivered slightly; her sheer dress did nothing to keep her warm.

She had slipped the piece of paper in the pocket of his jacket. She then went to stand on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek.

"Good night, Max."

Max had then shown up in Perth just a couple of days after Ivy had arrived. Supposedly to go visit Daniel on his farm, but in reality he just couldn't stop thinking about the blonde singer.

And well, the rest is pretty much history.

Max had taken her to Daniel's farm for a couple of days before having to go to Japan to meet his friends. They had a ski trip planned, Max had wanted to cancel his plans. Ivy told him to go, that he was being ridiculous.

He went, but on the condition she would join him in Japan to watch the race in Suzuka.

And here they were. In Max's hotel room. The morning light was softly filtering through the room as Ivy continued to draw shapes on his chest.

"I didn't think we were being that obvious."

Ivy looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. Max had been anything but subtle about the whole thing. Liking her Instagram posts, commenting underneath them. And then talking about how much he liked her songs on his streams.

Max pulled her on top of him. "They're gonna be even more suspiscous when you watch the race from the Red Bull garage." He pulled her down so his lips could meet hers in a kiss. "I can't wait to see Oscar having an aneurysm when he sees you in the paddock."

The singer gasped, "Max!" She playfully hit him on the shoulder. "That's my brother." She sternly looked at him.

Max simply looked at her with raised eyebrows. He placed his arms behind his head as Ivy's face cracked and a smile crept on her face.

"God, it'll be so fun to see him lose his mind."

"We don't have to walk in together," Max looked at Ivy. She was chewing on her lip, something Max noticed she did when she was nervous or stressed. He grabbed her shaking hand and intertwined their fingers.

Ivy let out a relieved sigh, "I really do want to go public at some point. I just, my last relationship was so public and I,"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to justify it or apologise for it. I would also like to keep things between us for now."

He squeezed her hand three times just before the car came to a halt. Ivy leaned up to kiss his cheek, "I'll come see you before quali."

"Counting on it!"

Max winked before he got out of the car with his backpack strapped around his shoulders. Ivy waited a respectable five minutes before entering the paddock herself; a shiny Red Bull paddock pass hanging from her neck.

part 3 coming soon.

taglist: @mastermindbaby @charlesgirl16

[slitheringghost]

Could you expand on your thoughts around Walburga being physically and sexually abusive?

I’ll be expanding on the physical abuse in another meta. But as for sexual abuse, Sirius just immediately gave me the vibes of a CSA/incest survivor the moment I read OoTP in 2020 and I haven’t been able to shake that. The Black family and incest is a fitting combination in general because of the Gothic Horror of the House of Black, and the obvious ties of incest to gothic tradition. There's no real evidence as such, it's mostly symbolism that can be read that way.

1.0 Sirius in Walburga's room

First, while fandom sometimes reads Sirius staying in Walburga's room as a sign of him missing and grieving her (likely comparing it to Harry staying in Sirius’s room in DH), I think it has a very different meaning. OoTP is all about Sirius being retraumatized - by being back in Grimmauld Place, by his mother's portrait abusing him, and by locking himself up in his mother's bedroom. Sirius shut up in Walburga's bedroom parallels Harry being locked up in his cupboard or his room with the cat flap and locked up in Umbridge's office for 7 hour detentions. This frames the site of trauma for Sirius, the place where he's retraumatizing himself, specifically as his mother's bedroom. It's along the lines of trauma reenactment.

Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry’s hand and beaming just like the rest of them; soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak. As the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer, he became more and more prone to what Mrs. Weasley called “fits of the sullens,” in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time.

This parallel is even more glaring when Harry spends hours in the same room after he views Arthur being attacked with himself as Nagini, punishing himself the way the Dursleys punished him by confining himself in a room and not eating (and for around 6-7 hours, the same time amount that he spent in Umbridge's detention):

When he heard Mrs. Weasley calling his name softly up the stairs around lunchtime he retreated farther upstairs and ignored her. It was around six o’clock in the evening that the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black started screaming again. Assuming that Mundungus or some other Order member had come to call, Harry merely settled himself more comfortably against the wall of Buckbeak the hippogriff’s room where he was hiding, trying to ignore how hungry he felt as he fed Buckbeak dead rats.

2.0 Comparison to Umbridge

Another detail is that Walburga is consistently compared with Umbridge in OoTP, and there's these passages where the emphasis on Umbridge's touch evokes sexual violence:

“Hand,” she said. He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings. “Tut, tut, I don’t seem to have made much of an impression yet,” she said, smiling. “Well, we’ll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? You may go.” Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly up the corridor then, when he had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear him, broke into a run. She moved toward him, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” she said softly.

“Great,” said Harry distractedly; if he did not tell somebody soon, he would burst. “Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge’s office and she touched my arm . . .” Hermione listened closely. When Harry had finished she said slowly, “You’re worried that You-Know-Who’s controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?”

After these instances, Harry calls Umbridge an evil, twisted, mad, old hag, which feels like loaded language. The evocation of sexual violence here is echoed in Umbridge being dragged away by centaurs at the end of OoTP as an allusion to Greek myths of centaurs raping women - basically, Umbridge's metaphorical sexual violation of Harry is retaliated with metaphorical sexual violation against her. I often see fandom question why that reference to the centaur myth is put in there -- this is part of why, but people don't realize it because most don't notice the sexual violation imagery in Umbridge's behavior (it has more significance too, I'll probably get to it in later metas).

Umbridge touching Harry is also a parallel to Voldemort going "I can touch him now" in the graveyard (and "you shudder when you touch me" to Wormtail), with the same undertones of sexual violation, the connection made explicit when Harry thinks Voldemort's possessing Umbridge when she touches his arm. And as I said here, Harry running away from Umbridge's office directly parallels Sirius running away from home, and from Walburga more specifically.

3.0 Small details

There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that none of them could open

I like the symbolism of Merope's locket ending up in Grimmauld Place for many years, indicating that the same violence as what Merope experienced in the Gaunt shack also occurred in Grimmauld Place, which of course included incest and sexual abuse (more on the meaning of Merope's locket here). The Blacks are very much on the extreme end of wizarding society and they're the most heavily paralleled to the Gaunts but have much more power, so it makes sense that they'd be extreme regarding abuse in every way (Bonus: I HC the musical box mentioned next to the locket was once used to forcibly put a victim to sleep for the perpetrator to assault them unconscious).

The mention of Walburga's gloves is also interesting, as it alludes to Walburga's hand and Walburga's touch:

“Mundungus Fletcher,” croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. “Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures, my Mistress’s gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and — and —”

Which is an interesting contrast to the mention of Lily's warm hand and Lily's comforting touch in the same book (this is emphasized for Harry explicitly, but Lily's letter was written to Sirius, so it also ties Lily's warm loving touch to Sirius):

The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.

Of course most of these are just me stringing disparate details together that don't have to mean anything! But the text does explore sexual violence, some of them in a literal way (Merope, probably Ariana), some more metaphorical (Voldemort violating Harry), and idk the Blacks having sexual abuse in the family just makes most sense to me (I also HC Cygnus as sexually abusive but that's not the topic of this post).