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eccentricgrace · 1 day

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the one who left behind his name || BatFamily

summary: dick gets hit with fear toxin. this experience reveals a lot of surprising conversations he needs to have with his brothers.

tags: dick grayson’s eldest daughter syndrome, bruce wayne’s c+ parenting, fear toxin, lots of hugs, hurt/comfort, found family feels

wc: 12,100

⚠️tw: canon-typical violence, blood, injury

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

The irony was, Dick didn’t see the green mist settle in until it was on his tongue. An acrid, medicinal film, seizing his lungs in a chokehold while he buckled over, hands clutching at his knees for a sense of stability.

In a second, his mind sparked back on like a match lit in a gas chamber. His hand shot up to his mouth, it clamped around his nose, he held his breath; all attempts in vain to undo what he knew would begin soon.

He made an ‘abort’ gesture, stumbling back into the shadows. “Robin,” he rasped out. “Code Fern. I’ve been hit, we’re heading out. I need Agent A to—“

“I’ve got it,” Damian snapped. “I’ve collected a sample for Agent A to analyze as we sit here wasting time. What’s your status?”

Dick grimaced as he tried to think of a way to soften the blow, to ease the fears edging from his baby brother’s voice. It was hard to think when he could feel his heart start to pound, when he knew the beginning of something terrific was stirring, except ‘terrific’ meant—

“Nightwing, status,” Damian repeated, his voice strung tight. “Do we need to call an assist?”

“No,” Dick said quickly, even though his legs shook and there’s a stutter in his heartbeat. He ignored it and pulled himself down the dark street.

In a moment, the world twisted on its axis, and in the second that Dick paused to blink, Damian was at his side. He shoved his small frame under Dick’s arm, trying to support his weight.

“Liar,” Damian hissed. “You can’t even stand straight, Grayson—“

“Names,” he chided lightly.

Damian ignored him and pressed forward with determination. “We need to get you to the cave before Crane’s delusions kick in.”

Dick half-heartedly agreed, and tried not to acknowledge the growing twitchiness of his mind. He felt eyes at the back of his neck, something lurking in the dark, watching them.

“Stay alert, Robin,” Dick directed, turning his head to get a view of his peripherals. “We’re still on the ground, baby bat.”

Damian made a frustrated sound and continued ignoring him.

“Nightwing,” a voice filtered in through his comms. Low, gruff, stern. Shit. “Status.”

Dick exhaled stiffly through his nose and brought a hand up to his earpiece. “I got hit. Low grade gang, I wasn’t expecting them to have toxin. I think they stole it, but still— I should have known Scarecrow’s long silence was a red flag.”

“You should’ve,” Bruce cut in. His tone was clear, made up of all his no-nonsense inflections that always made him feel like he was eight years old again, with all of the false confidence and none of the worthwhile experience. “That’s disappointing, Nightwing. I trained you better than this.”

The words sent a rush of anxiety through him, like he’d been mentally knocked back. His throat went tight as he tried to form an argument. “I—“

Dick paused. His hand hesitated on the comms, and he pulled away. He looked to Damian, who was watching him with a not-so-subtle side eye. “Isn’t B off tonight? I thought he had a gala.”

“Father isn’t online,” Damian confirmed, his eyes narrowing through the domino. “Are you hearing him now?”

Dick sighed in agitation and let his hand drop from the earpiece. He avoided Damian’s exact question, instead saying: “We need to move faster.”

Damian nodded, schooling his expression into determination. His face faded in and out of view as they marched through the dark alleyway, his hand retaining its tight grip on Dick’s elbow.

“I failed you tonight,” Damian said. He was sure. Certain.

He’s never certain of himself, not really, not unless he believed he had made a mistake. It’s one of the many things that Dick had learned the hard way, one that still broke his heart when he caught it.

“I should have noticed the toxin before you got hit. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Damian ducked his head once.

“It will,” Bruce said, his voice ringing metallic through comms. “He’ll disappoint you again, and again, and you’ll have to watch until you can’t do it any longer. Not even I could stand you for too long. The cycle won’t break.”

(“You’re firing me?” Dick guffawed, his arm still in its sling, fresh blood still on his bandages. “Bruce—“

“This isn’t for discussion. You’re done,” Bruce said. He turned around. He won’t look at him. Why won’t he look at him? “You aren’t being safe, you’re taking too many risks.”

“Necessary risks!” Dick cut in, the forced smile slipping from his face. His eyebrows are pulled tight in a stressed glower. “You can’t just take Robin away from me, Bruce. Robin is mine, I am Robin.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce snapped. He stalked toward the door, still hiding his face, the damned coward. “You were fatally injured, Dick. You were reckless. You failed the mission. You don’t deserve—”)

Dick’s exhaled sharply. He forced himself down to his knees and gripped Damian’s shoulders. His head hurt. He swallowed thickly. “You’ve never failed me.”

Bruce made a low, disapproving sound. “That’s not what I said, Robin. I’m in your head, I know you haven’t forgotten what really happened.”

Dick flinched, his shoulders hiking up to his ears. He shut his eyes tightly. “We’ll talk more about this later, but the serum, it’s getting worse.”

“You can’t listen to it,” Damian reminded him, his face pulled into a determined scowl. “It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

“It was real, though,” Bruce scoffed. “Wasn’t it?”

(Bruce’s mouth snapped shut before he finished the sentence, his teeth audibly clicking together.

“I don’t deserve what?” Dick asked quietly. His face was hot, the air rushing out from his nose like a dragon, like some beastly inhuman thing.

Bruce said nothing. He said nothing, and wouldn’t look at him, and Dick felt more alone now than he had since…)

“Nightwing!” Damian shook him off. “Focus!”

Dick groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, his head spinning. His heart was beating out of his chest, he felt sick. He couldn’t move, not even if he wanted to— he just felt paralyzed.

“It’s not real,” Damian said, grabbing his wrist. “Damn it, Nightwing. Snap out of it!”

(“You made me this, Bruce, I don’t have anything else,” Dick said, and as he said it the words bubble into a manic laugh, like he’s just realizing it for the first time.

For so long he’d seen it as the only good thing in his life, that Bruce had been able to save him from himself. That Bruce had scooped him up from the bloodied floors of the Circus, cold floors of the Gotham City orphanage— but now the floors of the cave are just as bloody, just as cold.

A gilded cage is still a cage.

The only good thing in his life has now just become the only thing. He’s a bird without wings.

Bruce didn’t say goodbye to him before he left.)

“I was busy,” Bruce said lamely. “You were acting like a child.”

“I was a child,” Dick rasped, the words keening from his throat. His vision tunneled, going dark around the edges, and he bit back a swear. “Robin, call backup.”

If Damian replied, he couldn’t hear. There’s another hand pulling at his wrist, to which he knocked away in his panicked instincts. A following clatter on the ground echoed through the darkness, then a muffled sound of pain.

“Shit,” Dick said. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—“

Bruce sighed with resignation. “Always reckless. Always endangering the people you claim to love. You won’t ever learn, will you, Robin?”

A blinding light hit his eyes, and he hissed, his arms shielding his face from the spotlight. Wind whipped around him, and there was so much sound that started at him in waves. Cheers and whistles, the steady tin dribbling of a timpani, a symphony of thunderous applause.

Dick weakly dropped his arms, squinting out at the lights, all white beams that strobe past him, that move in and out of view. In the light, little bits of paper fell: cheap, thin squares in colours of faded red, yellow, green—

He’s been here before.

A million times, more, he’s been here. He breathed in, was hit with the scent of hay, of chalk, of sweat, of blood. On his tongue he could taste it, the metallic tang of sheer horror and a scream so deep it could only be felt.

“Richard!”

Dick’s head shot up. Crouched on the edge of a platform an entire tent’s length away, he could catch the blurry figure of Damian. He was injured, blood dripping from his nose.

A spotlight dropped on Damian, and the boy winced, ducking his head to cover his eyes. Dick’s mind stalled. He couldn’t tell what was real or not.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… BOYS AND GIRLS… HALEY’S CIRCUS IS PROUD TO ANNOUNCE…”

A trapeze dropped from nowhere, the bar dull with chalk. The timpani sped up, drumming impossibly in tandem with his heartbeat.

“…FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY…”

In all his nightmares, Dick could see where the rope was fraught, could see what he missed the time that it counted. This wasn’t an outlier. He could see the singed edges, he could see them.

“…THE FLYING GRAYSONS!”

(He was four when he learned to fly. He was never nervous. He never felt safer than he did holding onto his Tată’s warm hands, and he never felt more free than when he was swinging through the air with a laugh in his chest.

“I want to do this forever,” he insisted after his first day of practice, standing on his toes. “Can I, Mamă? Please?”

“My little Robin,” Mamă laughed sweetly, combing his hair back between her fingers. “You were just born to fly, hm?”)

The band was playing loud, circus music that twisted in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong shapes. Dick hazarded an alarmed look towards Damian.

“Dami,” he called out frantically, stepping up. “Damian, hang on. Don’t move, okay?”

Damian’s eyes look back at him, all wide, unsteady. He looked so young now that he had removed his domino— Dick can’t remember when he’d done that.

“Richard!” He called out. “Do you have a plan?”

(He’s eight years old and it’s the end of this summer’s tour. His Mamă did his hair, gelled the short waves down nice so they wouldn’t fall in his eyes when he hung upside down, because he’d fretted when they started practicing their big act.

He’s got his perfect show-stopping smile on, one of his front teeth missing, but bright and cheery all the same. His outfit had been pressed last night, glittery red and green with stripes of yellow dashed along the chest to look like a bird.

His knees locked around a trapeze bar, and he swung back and forth, grinning at Mamă because she’s always so beautiful when she soars through the air. She winked at him, and to his glee, he caught a quick glimpse of her sparkly eyeshadow.

The crowds cheered. He felt like he was on top of the world.)

The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he gritted his teeth, holding out his arms to keep some semblance of balance. He looked back up, barely-concealed panic in his eyes. “Richard, we’re running out of time. I should— I have to jump.”

“No!” Dick shouted, a sudden bark of a word. He made himself sound as stern as he could, the panic ramping up in his chest. “Damian, do not jump. Stay there.”

Damian was going to fall. There wasn’t a question about it. Dick looked at the bar dangling in front of them, and he made a choice.

“I’m—“ Dick took a steadying breath, and forced his shoulders to relax. “I’m coming to you. Just stay there.”

Bruce had trained him for moments like these. Times if his cable broke, if some accident occurred to his grapnel while he was still in the air. He knew, theoretically, the least-damaging way to land from a potentially lethal height.

That was with one person. Not two.

He pictured the steps in his mind. Grabbing Damian, tucking him to his chest, turning over before the inevitable impact. Injury would be the best case scenario.

Dick’s ready to take that chance.

(Dick’s swinging back and forth, the blood rushing to his head, and something about the rope—

Mamă was swinging towards him, and something wasn’t right. The rope thinned, and before Dick could even process what the problem was— it happened.

SNAP.

His Tată gasped, his Mamă’s eyes went wide, her hand still stretched out to take his.

Dick’s arm lunged as far as he could without falling, his small fingers strung out as if the centimeters would make a difference.

It didn’t.

He screamed, and he kept screaming, and sometimes it felt like he never truly stopped.)

“Damian.” Dick smiled, attempting to pacify him before the damage. “You’ll be okay.”

Damian furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes wildly darting from the trapeze bar to Dick. “What? Richard, don’t do anything stupid! What are you—“

He took a few steps back, shook out his limbs, and swallowed his fear.

He leaped towards the bar. The rope strained under his weight, he could hear the way it pulled. Damian yelled a swear, seemingly having connected the dots. It didn’t matter now. He needed to build more momentum.

He swung his legs back and kicked them forward, and a loud round of applause shook the stadium. The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he nearly toppled over the side of the uneasy ground.

Dick swore, and he kicked harder, using every bit of his weight to get the trapeze moving.

“Damian!” He shouted. “Jump on three! Okay? I’ll catch you!”

Backwards, forwards. Dick’s hands were sweaty through the gloves of his suit. Damian was mouthing to himself: One.

Backwards, forwards. The rope pulled taut. It creaked. It was almost over. Two.

Backwards, forwards. He launched off, the rope pulling apart with an echoing snap. His eyes locked on Damian, who had jumped towards him just as the platform crumbled. Three.

Dick reached out his hands.

(Mamă reached out her hands.)

He’s falling.

(She’s falling.)

Damian’s fingers brushed against his, just barely, just enough for Dick to pull him closer. The two of them tumbled through the air, birds without wings. The world spun, and Dick turned Damian away from the impact as it grew closer—

It took two seconds for the world to explode in a menagerie of bright, painful colours. Two moves. His spine, the ground. The wind knocked out of him.

Under the sound of the audience, still clapping, still cheering, oblivious to the blood, he could hear them— the circus clowns laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

In his arms, a crumpled bundle shifted and cried out. Dick hissed weakly as the movement jostled his back. A spark of fear gave him the energy to lift his chin, just enough to look down.

“Damian?” He wheezed. “Dami, you okay?”

Damian climbed off of his chest, and held a hand to his head. It came back blood-soaked, crimson running down his wrist. He looked back at Dick with dazed eyes. He made a small, confused sound at the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Dick sat up, ignoring the white hot pain shooting through his entire body. He stumbled close to Damian to investigate the wound.

Somewhere during the fall, he’d hit his head. There was a lot of blood. Inevitable– head injuries were always the bloodiest because the brain needed a lot of blood; there were a lot of vessels to be broken up there. He definitely had a concussion.

He pressed pressure onto the wound, sinking a terrible warmth into the fabric of his suit.

“Okay,” Dick said quickly, cradling Damian’s head in his hands. “You’re okay.”

(He was always more tired after a mission.

Usually the farther it was, the more free he felt— an effect of his nomadic early years. He learned pretty fast that the rule didn’t apply to extraterrestrial travel. He preferred his feet on the ground he knew best, and the long space missions the Titans had to go out on lately were really good at draining him of all his energy.

That’s why he spent the entire trip home soothing the bone-deep exhaustion by imagining himself walking through the door. He’d collapse on the couch, sprawl all his limbs out and laugh at the way Jason would trail in after him with a scowl.

Jason would stumble over his explanation that the first living room’s TV had the best audio quality, to shove over so he could watch The Princess Bride, and Dick would move over just to kick his feet back over Jason’s legs.

They’d wrestle over the remote and then Jason would glare at him and say “welcome back, by the way,” and then Dick would finally feel like he was home.)

Someone dropped behind him. The fall of heavy boots. A familiar sound. Dick turned around and faced a red helmet and full weaponry.

“You called for an assist,” Hood said bluntly.

“Damian,” Dick rattled off quickly, keeping his hand clamped on the bleeding wound. “I mean Robin, he’s injured. TBI, external bleeding head injury, I haven’t had time to properly triage.”

(He’s walking up the hill, the winding road up to the foyer, and he’s thinking about Alfred’s hot cocoa. He’s thinking of Bruce, and mimicking his facial expressions everytime he turned away until Jason cracked and let out one of his kiddie high-pitched laughs.

He got to the door, and something felt wrong, like the rope, like the—)

Hood stalked forward. He clicked his helmet off and tossed it to the side, the metal clanging on concrete. He leaned down beside Damian and looked over the wound.

“Definitely a concussion,” Hood sighed heavily. He said something mumbled to himself, then tried snapping his fingers in front of Damian’s face.

Damian was wildly out of it, drifting in and out of consciousness. His fingers twitched from where they were held in one of Dick’s hands, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curling in an annoyed sneer— he was scared, disoriented, and he was trying to fight it off. Oh, Dami.

(Maybe he was paranoid. Recent events had definitely made him noticeably more twitchy, but he couldn’t imagine why it would make him feel like this.

Not even paranoia could cause this, he wanted to think— this feeling of something so deeply off center, a molecular-level change that he couldn’t place.

He took a breath, shook off his shoulders, and put on a smile— perfect, show stopping, just like Mamă taught him — before he knocked on the door.

The door opened promptly. Alfred had been waiting for him.

Alfred’s hand shook lightly on the door handle. His handkerchief was tucked messily into his suit pocket, wrinkled and well-used. His hair was thinner, his eyes were sunken in, red-rimmed, his lips were pulled together primly. Grief emanated from every tired line of his body.

Dick’s smile was whisked away and paranoia was replaced with dread, shuddering over him faster than he could breathe, from his hair’s split-ends to the soles of his feet.

He swallowed, his gaze going steely. “Who was it?”)

Dick shuddered, everything was hurting so badly— the world was blurring, he’s messing everything up, and Damian was injured in his lap and he needed help.

“We have to get him to the cave, or Leslie’s,” Dick pleaded, looking up to Jason. “Whichever’s faster.”

“The cave. Leslie’s on the other side of town, and Agent A is already prepared for a shit show,” Jason said. After a moment, he sighed. “I got here on my motorcycle, though. Not enough room for three, even if Demon Brat is a shrimp.”

“Take him,” Dick said immediately. He lifted Damian up, his entire spine screaming with pain. He winced, and pressed on. “Take him to the cave, I’ll find my way back.”

“Whatever.” Jason reached down and took him in his arms. “What happened, anyway?”

(“Bruce. Tell me you’re lying,” Dick said, barely getting the words out with the way he shook. “Tell me you didn’t bury my…”

Bruce didn’t speak. He was looking at him, finally, after all the time, but his gaze was empty. His eyes were grey, devoid of feeling, of focus.

“Bruce!” Dick shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. He needed Bruce to flinch, to blink, to breathe. Anything would be better than this.

Bruce just stared.

“God damn it, answer me!” Dick punched the table again, his eyes scanning furiously over Bruce’s void of energy.)

“Dickface,” Jason snapped, sounding mildly alarmed. He shifted uncomfortably, the unconscious kid groaning in his arms. “Hey, what the fuck. It wasn’t that serious, why’re you crying?”

Dick blinked rapidly, his hands coming up to his face. Tears made his cheeks wet and cold. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping them away. “I don’t know, I— he fell. That’s what happened. We—“

“Did you fucking drop him?” Jason spat out, looking at Dick with disgust.

“I didn’t drop him,” Dick bit down, his teeth clicking together painfully. His stomach turned with waves of nausea. “We fell together, I tried to—“

“You did,” Jason scoffed. “You did drop him. Nice fucking going, Dickie. Do you know what a fall from that height does to someone as small as him? You may be able to take it, but chances are he fucking won’t.”

(Bruce swallowed. “I’m sorry, Dick,” he mumbled drunkenly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dick’s vision was beginning to blur, a familiar rage burning its way back into his veins, back to the circus, back to screams and police sirens, back to Zucco.

An empty whisky glass from Bruce’s desk found its way into Dick’s hand, and was thrown across the room with a brilliant amount of force. Dick didn't look while it shattered and fell to the carpet in a million shining pieces.

“Sorry is something you say when you break a fucking glass,” Dick gritted out. “Not when you kill somebody’s fucking little brother.”

He couldn’t breathe. He’s taking in air faster than his lungs could register it. “What did you do, Bruce? What the hell did you do?!”)

“You’d think the first one would be enough for the lesson to stick,” Jason spat bitterly. “But no, somehow, you just keep collecting dead birds, huh?”

“No,” Dick scraped out. He bowed his head, pressing into the gravely pavement. A gasp forced out from his lungs as the tears made him heave. “No, no, no.”

The boots trailed around him in a lazy circle. “Another baby brother lost. Stop fucking crying, Dickie, I know you don’t actually care. You gonna miss his funeral, too?”

“I’m so sorry.” Dick made fists, he grasped uselessly at the concrete, catching and ripping at the fabric of his gloves. “He didn’t tell me. Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Sure. Sure, he didn’t tell you, so it wasn’t your fault.” Jason gripped his hair and yanked his head up. “Which is it, then? It isn’t your fault, or you’re sorry? Which is it?”

He’s pissed. His eyes a manic green, the way animals carried vibrant patterns so predators knew to steer clear. It’d been so long since his last bout of pit madness, he’d already fought this battle before, it was supposed to be over.

“Everything you are, was what I wanted to be,” Jason said slowly, his eyes dark and gleaming, tilted and dangerous. “Now I can’t even look at you without feeling sick.”

“I know,” Dick croaked.

“When we finally kick the bucket, I pray we go to different hells.”

Jason released his grip, and Dick’s skull slammed against the floor in a blinding white flash.

(“Nightwing. We’ve gotten a code red from Titan Tower.”

Dick paused, his movements lilting in confusion. “Tim’s the only one there this weekend.”

A sharp inhale through the nose, B’s telltale giveaway of panic. “The Red Hood has been seen at the location.”

Something heavy fell in Dick’s stomach. His eyes darkened. “…Leaving now.”)

Rather than waking up in one of Gotham’s infamous back alleys, Dick lifted his head in an indoor grey hallway, industrial, stretching a long way before an inevitable turn.

His heart was still pounding, his breath still stuttered with every inhale and exhale. Two brothers gone, two fathers lost, one mother dead. He wanted to curl up and stay there shaking until it was all over, let the misery wash over him until the bubbles stopped.

“I didn’t train you to give up,” Bruce said, his voice cracking through his skull. “If you’re going to die, you’re going to make it useful.”

Someone was calling his name. Somewhere else, as it echoed and rebounded through the ominous hallway. He lifted his head again to look.

At the far end of the hallway, just before the turn, a dash of red smeared on the wall. Dick knew like the back of his hand what was meant to follow, every horrible moment that awaited him.

“Don’t just lay there,” Bruce commanded. “Run, Robin.”

(Dick’s voice was hoarse from how loudly he’s bellowing as he sprinted through the tower’s floors. He barely heard Tim at all, a cry, weak and frail as a baby bird’s, and then he was running again towards the sound.)

He was running through the hallways. He couldn’t remember getting up, all he could remember was—

(—blood on the wall. Blood on the floor. It was everywhere.

Good god, it was everywhere, and in the center of it all there was—)

“Tim!” Dick fell to his knees, gathering up the teen and pressing his hand to his bleeding neck.

Tim keened, tears and spilling crimson on his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He grasped helplessly at Dick’s arms, his feet pushing against the floor in a squirming mess as he tried to deal with the pain.

“It’s okay,” Dick repeated feverishly. He’s moving like a ghost, like a possessed man, like a puppet. “I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to the med bay. Come on.”

He scooped Tim up and half-dragged him to the medical bay, and he’s digging through the drawers with one hand and—

(— he’s holding Tim’s bleeding throat with the other, and Tim kept trying to speak. He was gasping and floundering like his life depending on choking the words out, rather than actually living.

Dick kept shushing him. He’s razor-focused, he’s scatter-brained, his hands are doing a million things at once, he’s not moving fast enough. He packed the hemostatic gauze and—)

— he wrapped the injury with more cloth, and—

(—it’s hiding the red, it’s working, his little brother will be okay, Dick will make it okay and—)

—there’s so much blood, it was soaking through, and nothing was working. It wasn’t supposed to be this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. These weren’t the way the words were written. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.

“You’re—“ Tim gasped, the sound wretched and wet. “A murderer. A fraud. You…”

Dick made a panicked noise as he pressed more gauze, more cloth, more pressure, and the shock was starting to settle into Tim’s body. His eyes were going glassy. His face was so pale underneath the bruises and drying blood.

Tim gurgled, his hands going limp and falling to the side.

“Not another,” Dick shook. “Not— Not again.”

He reached out—

(—to take his mother’s hand—)

(—to call Bruce—)

(—to ruffle his brother’s hair—)

(—to keep pressure on the wound—)

—and his hand is caught by someone else’s.

It was akin to the exact moment a storm cleared, or taking a proper breath after a marathon. Atlas with a sudden bout of freedom, shoulders free of the world for one clear, distinct moment.

He exhaled, squeezing the hand in his in a strange desperation. He needed this to be real.

The hand squeezed back. Someone’s speaking to him in low, soothing tones.

The scene in front of him faded away into nothing, a cloak of darkness falling over his view. He felt tired enough to sink into the dark, enough to breathe now like it wouldn’t be his last breath.

Distantly he thought maybe his heart had finally given up, that this was the peace before his consciousness gave into oblivion. A pang sat in his throat, a heaviness at the thought that he would be leaving his family in need of him, but — but this couldn’t be stopped. Not anymore.

“Shh…” a callused hand gently graced his face. It’s warm and it’s safe, and he was so tired. His eyes shut, his body went lax at the abrupt crash of adrenaline. “It’s all better now. Just rest.”

In the end, it hardly felt like a choice at all.

He went to sleep.

Waking up properly was a slow, miserable process.

He kept getting flashes of awareness, fragments of scents, of sights, of sounds. Sometimes he panicked, and then there was that voice again, gruff and steady, telling him everything was going to be fine.

All the while, he dreamt.

In dreams, everything was just as fuzzy, so much so that it was hard to distinguish from reality until he would jerk back awake.

He was nine, carrying his things in a big black grocery bag he got from a social worker up the front steps of the manor. He’s thirteen and he’s broken his ankle on patrol. B won’t stop fretting and Dick won’t stop rolling his eyes.

He’s fifteen and he hated the world and he loved his dad. He’s seventeen and he wanted to come home now, really, he did.

He’s eighteen and he loved to sit next to his little brother and listen while he read books with words so big he couldn’t pronounce them out loud. He’s twenty-two and his little brother was dead and every morning he made two bowls of cereal for himself and a ghost.

He’s twenty-four and there’s a scrawny boy with messy dark hair and determined blue eyes on his doorstep and his brother’s voice was in ear telling him about “the importance of remembering history, Dickface.”

He’s twenty-five and Robin kept looking up to him with such hesitancy, and Dick hated himself because he couldn’t remember how to be who he needed to be. His smiles became more bright, the unfortunate but necessary byproduct of an artificial sun.

He’s twenty-six and everything was upside down. Damian was so angry, Tim was too confident, Jason wasn’t himself. For a moment Dick knew how Bruce felt. Maybe they were never cut out for loving people. He didn’t think it was supposed to hurt this much.

Now, Dick lazily blinked the sleep away from his eyes and swallowed the stagnant saliva in his mouth. He felt warm from what he assumed to be an IV drip, and dizzy from whatever drugs he had to be on.

“Dick.”

Dick glanced over to the chair beside him, where Bruce was still sitting. He had a neutral expression on his face, but his shoulders were tight, and he knew exhaustion when he saw it. He knew Bruce.

“Are you with me?” Bruce asked.

Dick exhaled carefully through his nose. Chances are that this wasn’t another hallucination— especially because he felt like an actual human being and not anxiety personified. “Depends. I thought you had a gala tonight.”

“I had a gala two nights ago.”

Dick sighed. He used his strength to push himself up into a sitting position. Bruce’s eyes never leave, tracking along each movement with quiet calculation. “I was out that long?”

Bruce grunted an affirmative.

This was the part of the mission where Dick would give his report, try and point out all his mistakes, inevitably fail, and listen to Bruce’s lecture about the most important thing he missed.

No reason to mess with tradition, he figured, so he let his head fall back on the pillow and went back to where it all went wrong.

“Damian and I were on patrol. I got dosed with toxin,” Dick recounted, closing his eyes. “I gave the order to get out of there. I told Damian to call backup after the hallucinations started feeling more real.”

A flying trapeze. The Red Hood. Tim. Dick sighed again, his cheeks going hot. “The hallucinations were unrealistic, I should have been more logical with my approach. It was the flashbacks that screwed me over, I think. It made everything… feel real.”

Bruce wasn’t saying anything, only watched him carefully. All this time and Dick still hated when he did that. He looked back at him and waited for the reproach, the promised lecture.

Bruce finally cleared his throat. “Fear toxin alters the mind,” he said. “Often the first thing to go is rationality and logic. I don’t blame you, Dick— you were strong, you and Damian made it out alive. Today, that’s what counts.”

Dick hesitated, watched the way Bruce’s eyes flickered, the way his jaw tensed minutely between certain words.

“Something happened when I was out,” he surmised. Bruce looked away, effectively confirming that he was right on the money. “What was it?”

“It proved… challenging,” Bruce struggled, “to get you en route to the cave. The footage is available, but I would avoid it this time. It was a close call.”

“Was I the only one hurt?” Dick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. His mind flashed him pictures of Damian in his arms, of Tim on the ground. He hated fear toxin.

Bruce nodded once. “Nobody else sustained injuries.”

Dick sighed with instant relief. He let himself relax back into the cot. “Where is everyone, then? I figured at least Damian would be here.”

“I sent him to bed,” Bruce crossed his arms, a very tired amusement passing his face. “I stopped letting him argue back at hour forty-four. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit.”

Dick smiled. “How long ago?”

Bruce flicked his wrist out and glanced at his watch. “Six hours ago. It’s two in the morning.”

Not enough sleep for Dick to justify waking him up. He’ll wait for a few more hours, or until Damian wakes up to find him. Whichever came first.

“You should go to sleep,” Dick told him, because he could see the dark circles and knew Bruce probably had been too busy working on an antidote with Tim to rest. At Bruce’s visible hesitation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be alright here. I know you have me hooked up to monitors anyway. Seriously, get out of here.”

Bruce took a moment, and then relented with a heavy sigh. “If something comes up, you know what to do. Goodnight, Dick.��

Dick found the footage on the lenses of Robin’s mask.

He didn’t like watching himself on fear toxin, not that anybody did. The vulnerability is unsettling, sure, but watching himself behave like a wild animal never sat with him the right way. He couldn’t be like Bruce, who would watch his patrol footage and pick it apart mercilessly just to improve his technique.

Furthermore, it was weird to see himself from Damian’s eyes. Himself, crouched down so they’re eye-to-eye. In the footage, Dick was trembling. He flinched at nothing.

“The serum,” he had said, but his voice sounded distant, like his head wasn’t fully there. “It’s getting worse.”

Then, Damian. Sure-fire and defiant. “You can’t listen to it. It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

With Damian’s eyes, he watched himself look around the alleyway like a hunted dog. His chest stalling every few seconds and then his breath increasing in speed.

“Nightwing!” Damian reached for his arm and shook violently. “Focus!”

He made a wounded noise and didn’t move, hiding his face in his hands— he remembered this. He remembered this happening. This was when the first flashbacks kept catching him off guard.

“It’s not real,” Damian had tried. “Nightwing, snap out of it!”

This was where memory started to trail off from reality.

In reality, Damian was on his comms, his eyes locked on target to whatever Dick was doing, ready to catch him if he flew off. He was calling a code— Oracle sent everyone to pick up collateral. Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Orphan. They went in teams.

Damian doesn’t leave his side. The footage clipped to a later timestamp.

He watched himself flounder in terror, looking around with choked gasps and half-mumbled words like he was caught in a nightmare.

“Damian. Dami.” Dick caught Damian’s arm, his eyes distant, his pupils shrunk small. He was whispering. “Damian. You’ll be okay.”

Damian froze. He quickly turned away as a motorcycle was heard behind.

Dick watched as Jason came into view, much like he did in the hallucinations, although here he moved forward more like he was approaching a feral animal.

“You called for an assist?” He tried to joke, his usual deadpan failing with the undercurrent of worry that pulsed through. (Neither of them did well with fear toxin. They hated it both equally.)

Dick watched himself react to the words like he’d just taken a bullet. The way he lurched away, the immediate hurt that followed on Jason’s face.

“It’s not you,” Damian said immediately, echoing the thoughts Dick had. “You know that, Todd.”

“I know,” Jason shrugged. He inched forward tentatively anyways.

“No,” Dick scraped out, gasping. He started to scrape at the ground with his hands, leaving them bloody. “No, no, no.”

“Fuck,” Jason said quickly, as both him and Damian rushed to stop him from shredding any more skin. Jason flinched as Dick let out another keening cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his head lulling uselessly forward. His body shuddered violently. “He didn’t… tell me… Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry...”

Jason made a frustrated sound, strangled at the back of his throat. “Fuck. I’m making it worse. Why didn’t you call Tim? He likes Tim.”

“You’re not making it worse,” Damian snapped. “Stay focused.”

“I’m focused,” Jason snapped back. “Let’s get him to the cave. You think you can keep up with me with your grapple?”

Damian marched forward, taking the hook from his belt. He exhaled stiffly through his nose. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Hood. We’re wasting time. I’ll see you there.”

The footage jumped again, rerouting to the security feed in the cave. It showed the medical bay at the forefront, the cot he was lying in, and the computer in the back. It was chaos.

Jason and Bruce argued loudly as they held down Dick’s arms and kept him pinned to the cot, as he seized and gasped. Alfred stood to the side holding an oxygen mask to Dick’s face, trying to get the two to stop shouting. Damian stood still at the foot of the bed, scowling while he overlooked vitals. His hands shook.

“His BPM is too high,” Damian growled over the noise. He spun around to where Tim had been pacing in the back. “Drake, his heart is going to inevitably fail if you don’t work faster.”

Tim, muttering to himself, moving around computers and flasks like a mad scientist, didn’t meet him with even a look. “I’m working as fast as I can,” he spat back. “Yelling at me won’t make a cure magically exist.”

“I’m just saying,” Jason insisted, “he got worse a hell of a lot faster after I showed up, and now with you here, he’s about to fucking die!”

“I didn’t ask you to just say,” Bruce cut sharply. “You know just as well as anybody else that the effects of Crane’s toxins are unpredictable, and–”

Dick managed to land a stray hit in all his panic, shoving Bruce away and sitting up from the cot. His eyes wild, his chest heaving; he pushed out of Jason and Alfred’s hands and tried to stumble off the cot.

“Fuck,” Jason swore. “Now look what you fucking did–”

Damian clenched his teeth. “You idiots– can’t you do one job correctly?!”

Tim swung around. He marched over, pushing Damian to the side, shoving past Jason and Bruce, and ignoring them all as they turned their attention. He leaned down beside Dick, who had fallen to his knees. He held a syringe in his hand.

“Tim,” Dick stammered, reaching forward. “You’re bleeding, you’re…”

Tim grabbed his arm and stuck the syringe into a vein, his jaw set in a firm line. Dick made a panicked noise and seemed to flounder back, but he had already finished injecting the antidote. It was done.

“It’ll set in an hour,” Tim said, looking around the stunned room of people. “He’ll probably sleep a lot, so someone should sit with him. And all of you should apologize to Alfred for the headache.”

After a beat of silence, it was Damian who spoke first.

“I’ll take the first shift.” He paused. “...Hopefully you did a considerable job, Drake.”

The footage ended.

Dick turned the device off with a shaking hand and closed his eyes for a long, long time. He breathed in. He breathed out. He did it again, and again, and again, until it didn’t feel like he was living it anymore.

He had barely been drifting when the door to the medical bay creaked open. When there was no following noise, Dick knew it was Damian. His footsteps were always too quiet to hear unless he wanted someone to hear them.

He opened his eyes, and Damian was scowling at him.

Dick smiled easily. “Hi, there.”

Damian scowled harder.

Dick’s smile faded, and he swallowed, letting himself go solemn. “I’m sorry, Dami. I know, I shouldn’t have let myself get hit. I endangered you, I could have hurt you, or worse—“

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Damian scoffed. He marched into the room, sitting down in the nearest chair with a huff.

His hair stuck up in all directions, he was still wearing his pyjamas. Dick noted with unrestrained glee that it was the joke Nightwing pair he bought last Christmas. He just looked like any normal kid who had been woken up too early, and Dick loved him more than words could express.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Dick asked instead, tilting his head. “I know whenever B got hit with a fear toxin, I would get pretty freaked out.”

Damian watched him quietly for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were considering this. He knew sometimes it took a moment for Damian to decide whether or not he was safe to engage in a particular conversation, and he respected that— so he went quiet and patiently waited.

“You spoke a lot,” Damian said finally, his expression easing. “Much of it was incoherent, but there were times where you would say something clear. I believe you were convinced I was in danger.”

Dick nodded. He kept his hands folded on his lap to prevent himself from fidgeting too much.

Damian then looked down. “I believe you lied to me. You told me it would be okay. Or, tried to.”

“I did,” Dick said slowly.

Damian’s jaw clenched, his eyes very focused on the floor. “You nearly died several times before Drake synthesized a working antidote. The fear was making your heart dangerously fast— anybody else not used to the stress would have died.”

Dick frowned, but remained quiet.

Damian looked back up, the scowl returning, albeit weak. It couldn’t hide his watery eyes. “It would not have been okay, Grayson.”

The youngest of all of them. Underneath all the violence and sharp words, it was hard to forget that Damian was still just a kid — a kid who had lost everything just like the rest of them.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said quietly. He hesitated. “You’re right, Damian. I’m sorry.”

“I do not wish to grieve you,” Damian warned, an imperceptible waver in his voice. “It would be inconvenient. Your life is–”

The words broke, and he quickly looked away, glaring harder at the floor.

He sniffled and his hand quickly swiped over his cheeks. He kept his shoulders tight, his body language full of fire and brimstone, spiked and thorned just like he’d been when he first arrived.

“If you die,” he said coldly, baring his teeth, “I’ll hate you forever.”

There are few things on this earth that meant as much to Dick as his family. After everything he’d lost, the things he gained only meant that much more. His little brothers; they all came from grief, born and bred.

Jason had crept through after Dick thought he had nothing left to fight for, when he instead fought everything as if it would repair the loss.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grow around the loss and gave it new life instead.

Tim was the one nobody thought to worry about, the anomaly, the one who bypassed the firewalls in the midst of the crisis. Broke down faulty systems, repaired them, forced his way through the cracks that Dick couldn’t find it in himself to caulk.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grieve the present and appreciate it at the same time.

But nobody had expected Damian. When he crash-landed in like a jet on fire, it was like the ground underneath them went uneven, and he continued to break their expectations with every step he took.

Robin replaced Robin. This time, Dick learned a lot of things. He learned what it was like to have a Robin.

He learned the weight of holding a sleeping kid on his chest, how he would do anything to keep him looking that peaceful. He learned to keep an ear out at night, to keep his door unlocked in case there was a nightmare, in case he was needed.

He learned how it felt to have a piece of his heart living outside of his body— and, like anybody, Dick didn’t like it when his heart was broken.

“Everybody dies, Damian,” Dick said carefully. “I really hope you won't hate me, when I do go.”

He exhaled, watching as Damian wiped away more of his angry tears.

“But,” he continued. “I’m not dying today, or hopefully anytime soon. I’m here, just like I said I’d be, and… I’d rather not spend the rest of my long life with someone that I love so much being angry at me.”

Damian shifted in his chair, like he was ready to bolt at any moment. Despite his best efforts, his bottom lip quivered and his scowl was starting to falter.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Dick said quietly, the words cracking at the end. He cleared his throat, ignoring the burning at his eyes. “I’m sorry that I scared you. Next time, I’ll—“

Damian stood up promptly and marched forward, his face properly scrunched up to avoid tears. He crossed the room in three steps, and by the third step his resolve had fully broken.

Watching Damian cry was like watching the world tear itself apart. He’s twelve years old and had the same rocky edges of the mountains he’d been forced to climb, had the same ferocity as the currents he’d been forced to swim against, had the same chill as the tundras he’d survived.

He held onto so much, so much; all before he’d barely started to carve out a spot in life big enough for him to stand in. It was hard work. It only ever got harder.

Dick would reshape the earth in his own hands if it meant the land would soothe the old aches and reset the broken bones. He’d take every hurt and every pain and he would do it smiling if it meant his little brothers never saw an inch of it.

But he couldn’t do that. Instead he had to be content with letting his arms open, and trusting that Damian would crawl up into them. That would be their peace.

Damian wept, broken little sounds choking their way through his tears. He buried his head into Dick’s abdomen and kept his arms curled up to his sides.

“Oh, Damian. Băiatul meu dulce,” Dick soothed, hushing his voice to a murmur. His heart was bleeding, a messy thing in the cage of his chest, and he quieted it down, too. “You’ve got me, Dami. I’m okay now. I’m okay.”

He pressed a kiss to his baby brother’s head and tried not to let himself lose the last semblance of emotional control he had as Damian’s cries racked through his small frame.

“This is your fault,” Damian stuttered through tears. “I’m still mad at you. Just... don’t leave.”

“I know.” He kept his hands busy by drawing circles over Damian’s back. He took deliberately slow breaths and rocked gently back and forth. “I’m right here, honey. You can be as mad as you want, I’m not going anywhere.”

And then words dwindled into nothing, because sometimes the silence was better. He pressed his nose into Damian’s hair, kept himself close. His hands worked their soft rhythm on his back, continuing even as Damian’s breathing slowed to a calmer pace.

His chest and upper stomach was soaked in salt and he didn’t give a damn about it.

After a few minutes of quiet sniffling and the sound of a hand smoothing down the wrinkles of a fleece shirt, Damian huffed. He kept his face hidden as he spoke.

“Emotions,” he said tentatively, drained of energy, “are exhausting, and embarrassing.”

Dick smiled shortly. A rush of relief passed over him, because talking was good. Talking meant he hadn’t truly ruined everything.

He passed his fingers past Damian’s forehead, carefully folding loose strands of hair away from his eyes. “Get some sleep then. It’s early, nobody will be up for a while.”

Damian was quiet for a few moments, considering. He exhaled. “You’ll wake me if—“

“You know I will,” Dick assured him softly. “Just your eyes, baby bat.”

Damian made an aggrieved noise, but made himself small while he settled into the cot.

His baby brother fell asleep in two short minutes— and a piece of Dick’s soul clicked back where it belonged.

Getting out of the medical bay was always a victory. His consistent visitors had been Damian and Alfred— while Batman and Red Robin had picked up slack on patrol, which was reasonable. Dick watched from cameras and would give occasional commentary through the comms with O.

(Jason, he hadn’t seen anywhere.)

Since the toxin, Dick had been trying to get himself back to normal. He wanted to let the memories wash away to the back of his mind where they usually were, instead of lingering on the forefront like a bad breakup.

For him, getting back to normal meant doing normal things— or, as normal as it could get. He sat on communications and bothered Bruce with his puns. He helped Alfred collect laundry. He watched animal documentaries with Damian. He practiced defense in the training room. He bothered Bruce some more.

He finally caught Tim in the kitchen, falling asleep into a bowl of cereal— bits of soggy cheerios stuck to his cheek and his hair saturated in almond milk.

Dick smiled to himself and then knocked his knuckles on the counter.

Tim lifted his head and looked up with an amount of unconcern that was almost impressive for someone who had almost drowned in their (12pm) breakfast.

“Dick,” he said, blinking a few times. “You’re out of the medbay?”

“Second day out,” Dick informed, giving a sympathetic smile. He yanked off a paper towel from the roll and wiped the milk and cereal off of Tim’s face.

“Oh.” Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning imperceptibly. “…Nobody told me.”

Dick made a noise of disapproval and grabbed his own bowl from the cabinets. He sat down beside Tim and poured the cereal in. “I would have been in there a lot longer if you hadn’t figured out the antidote. So, thank you.”

“You would’ve been dead, actually,” Tim corrected, stirring soggy cereal around with his spoon. “And it’s fine. It’s what I’m here for.”

Dick frowned into his own bowl and poured in the milk. “Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, when you had a second. That must have been pretty stressful for you, I wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“I see you’re at the getting-to-normal stage,” Tim observed, glancing over. “I know you probably already talked to B. Definitely talked to Demon Brat, because he’s less Demon than a few days ago. Jason’s next, right?”

Dick looked up to reply, and then paused.

Tim’s face was of its usual paleness, the normal dark purple shadows painted under his eyes. He knew about Tim’s bad working habits, his insomnia, but seriously— when was the last time this boy got any sleep?

“Why can’t you be next?” Dick asked instead.

Tim scoffed, his lip lifting up in a half-smile like something was amusing to him. He shook his head. “I think you could probably find Jason in—“

“I’m serious,” Dick interrupted. He set his spoon down in the bowl, letting it clink. “You’re my brother too, Tim.”

“Sure,” Tim said with a nod. “It’s just, you know. You have to add a ‘too’, don’t you? Implying there’s an original to be added to. Which is fine, seriously. I don’t know. I’m not offended or anything— you don’t have to lie to make me feel better about something that doesn’t affect me anymore.”

Dick stared, his jaw loosely hung open as he tried to fumble together the pieces of what Tim just splayed out.

“Tim, I—“ He shook his head, feeling slightly hysterical. “Explain that again?”

Tim huffed a laugh. He pushed his bowl away from him. “We don’t have to do this, Dick. Seriously. Whatever it is, I forgive you, we don’t have to make it this big thing.”

“Tim,” Dick said sharply. Tim straightened, his tired smile gone in an instant, his eyes alert, and Dick felt a wave of regret hit him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I shouldn’t have. I just— I need you to explain. Please.”

Tim frowned and pushed his hair out of his face. “I don’t know how to explain this without you getting pissed at me. Or you.”

“Start from the beginning,” Dick said tightly, his eyes still shut. Images of blood on tile and a little boy at his doorstep kept fading in and out of view.

“My beginning, or yours?” Tim asked, a lilt of a joke on his tongue.

“When we met,” Dick answered, not understanding the question. When was the beginning not just the beginning?

“We met at—“ Tim paused. He looked over Dick with something calculative in his eyes, and his lips twitched before his entire body went still, eerily calm. “We met at your apartment. You remember. I knocked on your door until you let me in. My hands hurt.”

“And?” Dick asked painfully.

“And what? And you hated me,” Tim said, laughing grimly. “You hated that I asked you to come back to Gotham, and then you hated when I became a Robin.”

Both true, but the reasoning of it was all wrong. Dick’s face must have contorted in a truly horrifying way, because Tim quickly put his hands up.

“Hold on, I’m not saying you hate me now,” Tim explained. “I know that’s not true. Don’t worry. But I also know that we don’t have any kind of bond, right? You and Jason were special. You were the blueprint, Jason was the one to make the pattern… And I mean, he’s right, isn’t he? I was the replacement. You were even the one to decide when I wasn’t needed anymore, because then you gave the role to Damian, and he was your Robin.”

Tim finished, and slumped back in his chair with a shrug. “So, it’s fine. I know I’m important to you. I’m just not at the top of the list. I made my peace with that a long time ago, it’s not a big deal.”

He felt sick.

Dick got up from the counter and walked to the other side of the kitchen, bending over the sink, and just standing there. His hands gripped onto the porcelain edges. He kept his eyes trained on the water that dripped from the faucet.

“Dick?” Tim called out from behind him. “Shit. I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. None of this is your fault, really—“

There were a lot of questions running through his head, and he felt dizzy from the guilt racking over him in waves. He turned the faucet on to its coldest setting and splashed the water on his face.

He turned around and Tim was behind him, his eyes intense with concern, his eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders up to his ears like he was ready for a war.

“Should I get Bruce? Alfred?” Tim asked carefully. “If you don’t answer, I’m getting them both, so choose wisely.”

Dick shook his head. He kept shaking his head. There was so much he needed to fix, he wasn’t sure where to even start.

“Can I hug you?”

Tim blinked. He looked him over quickly, like he was scanning for injuries. Seemingly satisfied, he gave him a very confused: “Yes?”

Dick pulled him in by the shoulders and hugged him as if it were the first time.

The more he thought about it, he actually couldn’t remember the last time that he hugged Tim. Tim always seemed to shy away from physical affection, seemed to stiffen up, so Dick had always tried to respect that.

But in the few seconds that Dick didn’t pull away, something different happened. The stiffness of Tim’s shoulders slowly eased away. He exhaled softly, and seemed to melt into touch. Hesitantly, his arms lifted to hug him back.

Dick tightened his hold and grieved every time he hadn’t been more patient, every time he hadn’t given Tim just a few seconds.

“You’re my little brother,” Dick said firmly. “No ‘too.’ I’ll make it up to you. All of it.”

“Why?” Tim mumbled.

“Because,” Dick laughed brokenly. “You thinking that you don’t mean everything to me, just like Jason and Damian do, kills me. I don’t know how I let it go on this long— but it’s done. It’s getting fixed.”

Tim was quiet for a long moment. “But I don’t know how to fix it,” he said anxiously. He pulled away, staring at Dick with those blue eyes.

The same blue eyes as before, the ones peering at him from across a dingy living room, the ones staring blearily from a blood-smeared hallway, both saying: I’m trying to pick up the pieces. There’s too many for me to hold.

His little brother: and it’s about time Dick acted like it.

“Tim.” Dick looked back at him seriously, his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “This one isn’t for you to fix, baby bird. This is my screw-up. And it looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Tim stared at him, nodded surely, and ducked back in for another hug. He’d never done that before.

Another piece of his soul moved. It wasn’t fixed, but it was healing from something he hadn’t known was broken— and he thought it would be okay.

A week, and he still couldn’t find Jason.

As it turned out, nobody had really looked. He’d been entirely radio silent since Dick’s encounter with fear toxin had been resolved with a synthesized antidote, and nobody had thought to bother him since.

Dick had been texting Babs consistently with questions of whether Jason was alright, and she’d always just sent him a simple message describing that he was safe and checking in with her on his patrol routes. Which meant he’d only been avoiding the family comms. Which meant something was wrong.

In the end, it was Alfred who had finally given him a tip. Polishing dishes with a fresh cloth, his lips pursed, he seemed to be contemplating a variety of decisions and their determined effects.

“I know he needs his space,” Dick explained, taking each plate as Alfred dried them to stack them away in the proper cabinet. “But I just have this terrible gut feeling that he’s overthinking something and that it’s my fault. Arguing is the last thing I want to do, I’m just…”

“Worried,” Alfred finished for him after a few helpless seconds. He sighed softly, setting the cloth down on the counter. “Yes. I figured as much. My hesitancy is not with your capacity to handle these things with care, Master Dick. I know you care for your brother a great deal.”

Dick frowned, leaning backwards. “What’s your hesitancy?”

Alfred met him with solemn eyes, effectively pinning him where he stood “My hesitancy is your unwavering willingness to fix things before you’re ready to fix them. You’ve been through a great deal this week, and I’m very familiar with how these particular experiences take a toll on you. Do you think you’re ready to speak with him?”

Whatever Dick had expected, this had been the last on the list. He floundered, taking in the words, and then looked down thoughtfully at his hands.

“I think,” he said after a moment, “letting this linger is hurting me more than talking about it will. I need to talk to him, Alfred. I need him to know how much this matters.”

It was apparently the right answer.

When Jason didn’t want to be found, there wasn’t much to be done about it. Crime Alley was only a small part of Gotham, but also the most dense in shadow– and if there was anything a bat could do, it would be to disappear where the light wasn’t.

With Alfred’s tip though, he found Jason in thirty minutes. The roof of a mom and pop ice-cream parlor, tucked into a city street corner between a laundromat and a piercing place. He’s a looming shadow against an air conditioning unit, and there’s a flickering glow of light coming from the cigarette between his fingertips.

Dick landed behind him, his feet soft on the asphalt. “Didn’t you quit?”

The shadow didn’t respond at first, exhaling a slow plume of smoke. “Only on good days.”

Dick walked up, standing beside his brother so they were shoulder to shoulder. Jason offered the box, and Dick silently shook his head. He put the box back in his pocket without so much as a shrug.

“The hell are you doing here, Dickface?” Jason asked. He sounded tired. “Figured the big man wouldn’t have let you leave the house in costume for another week.”

“Well, what B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Jason grunted noncommittally.

Dick glanced at him through his peripheral, his mouth twisting in thoughtful complication. He thought up different ways to start a conversation. He discarded each one.

It didn’t use to be like this. Dick remembered. He remembered nudging his little brother to get him to talk, taking him out of the house– seeing his little brother’s stomping grounds, taking him to old restaurants and parks that Jason never wanted to ask Bruce about– as often as he could. Not often enough.

It used to be so easy, like it was part of him– and maybe it had been part of him. It just happened to be the part that had died with Jason.

Dick laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, Jay. I used to be better at this, didn’t I?”

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Jason said bluntly.

Dick shoved their shoulders together. “Come on, I’m being serious. This wasn’t always so bad, was it?”

Maybe his voice was strained. Maybe his pleading was too obvious. Maybe he shouldn’t even be asking Jason this at all— it wasn’t his fault that Dick was so miserable at being the big brother. Jason shouldn’t have to comfort him about his failures.

It was just—

He just—

“No,” Jason said after a moment. “It wasn’t.”

The relief was painful. It was hard knowing, truly knowing, that there was something so important to improve upon. That somewhere along the way, he had fallen so far from his standard.

Dick rubbed a hand over his chest, right over his heart. He pressed deep into the muscle, hard enough to feel the bone underneath. His throat felt heavy. He opened his mouth to let out an apology, but—

“Sorry,” Jason said first, his voice gruff. He kept his eyes trained on the street. His fingers fiddled around the cigarette as it burned and cinders flicked to his boots.

Dick quickly looked up at him. “Sorry?”

“Yes,” Jason gritted out. “I know that’s not what you expected to hear because you don’t give a shit about yourself, but I’m sorry. I’ll stay in my own lane from now on, you don’t need to fake it anymore.”

Dick leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows as sudden bouts of defensiveness coursed through his head. Jason leaving was the last thing he wanted, for the rest of time.

“Jason, what the hell are you talking about?” Dick strangled himself for words. He started pacing across the rooftop, tugging at his hair again. “Fuck, do all of my baby brothers think I just want them gone?”

“That’s the thing, Dick,” Jason said back, his words sharper than his knives. “I don’t even think you realize it. I think you’re just so good at ignoring your own bullshit that you don’t see how much you’re still fucking terrified of me.”

Dick stalled. He slowly turned around, his hands falling from his hair.

“Is that what this is?” Dick asked, pressing forward. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“No need to get theatrical. I’m not blaming you,” Jason rolled his eyes, finally flicking the cigarette to the floor. “I’m violent, I don’t play nice. I nearly fucking killed Tim, that alone is enough to cement a piss-poor relationship. I’m not the little kid you used to take out for fuckin’ milkshakes anymore.”

Dick bit down on his tongue, watching the way Jason stumbled over his next few words. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and pulled out a new one from his pack, holding it unlit in his hands.

“I thought we’d resolved it,” Jason admitted finally. He looked up at Dick with his lips pulled into a tight smile. “Or that, at least, you didn’t totally fucking abhor me anymore? I don’t know. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I fucked up. I’m still fucking up. I’m still atoning. I know that now. So, I say again, genuinely. I’m sorry.”

Dick stared at him for a long moment, feeling fire in his blood. An uncomfortable heat in his head that made him sick from pressure, a volcano that didn’t know where to burst from. He took a steadying breath and shut his eyes.

“Sit down,” he said.

Jason scoffed. “What?”

“Sit down,” Dick said again, and slumped next to him on the floor. He extended his legs out and leaned back on his palms. “Please.”

Jason slowly crouched down to join him. He leaned his back against the air conditioning unit again. There was a tenseness to him, his jaw set in a firm line. He wouldn't hesitate to start fighting again, if the conversation called for it.

They sat quietly while Dick put his thoughts in order, Jason fidgeting in an obvious discomfort.

“When I got hit with the toxin, I saw the circus,” Dick said. “Damian and I were on the trapeze.”

Dick had told him once, about the circus. Had showed him the pictures of his parents, had told him why Bruce really adopted him. Told him about Zucco. About Robin. About all of it. Jason knew what it all meant to him. He knew.

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he sighed heavily. “Shit. You don’t have to—“

“Damian fell. I caught him, but it wasn’t enough,” Dick continued, growing louder over Jason’s interruptions. “He was bleeding, he had a concussion, it was bad. That was when you showed up to help. And you took him, you asked what happened. You figured out I hadn’t saved him, and you said that—“

His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, determined to continue. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. That’s why it hurt so much.”

“You weren’t hurt. You were terrified, Dickie,” Jason said lowly, looking at him with haunted eyes. “What the hell could I have said to make you so fucking scared?”

Dick hesitated, letting a shiver run over him as he thought back to the hallucination. He made a complicated sound. “That's not the point, though, is it? You don’t really want to know that.”

“No,” Jason decided quietly. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“The point is,” Dick leaned forward, looking right at him. Making himself as clear as he could be. “I was never afraid of you.”

“You should be,” Jason croaked weakly. “I’m no good. I always have been.”

“No, Jay,” Dick shook his head vehemently and lightly nudged his side. “You’ve always been good. Always. More than good, even. Magic.”

Jason barked out a wet laugh, covering his eyes with his hand. “I said it one time. You’re such an asshole.”

“But it’s true,” Dick smiled, his eyes bleary. “From way back when you were all bony elbows and small enough for me to haul over my shoulder, you’ve been magic. You made me who I am, Jason. We have quite the big crew now, but you’ll always be the one who made me a big brother. Once upon a time it was just the two of us. That means something.”

“I ruined you,” Jason argued roughly, his voice cracking up faster than he can repair it. He swallowed. “You said it yourself, all this shit used to be easier before. I fucked it all up.”

Dick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You didn’t fuck it up. I can prove it too: we’re both still here, and against all odds, you’re by my side. That tells me more than anything that we can still salvage this.”

“Do you really want that?” Jason asked dryly.

“Jason, the years I didn’t have you next to me were the worst ones of my life,” Dick said, the humor leaving him completely. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. It felt like I was always a day away from giving up. Now that I have you back again…”

He trailed off, and they both fell into a silence. Words intoned. Words left unsaid. Jason nudged him with the toe of his boot, a nonverbal sign of acknowledgement. A physical sign that he was still there. Dick nodded once, and Jason looked away.

“You know,” Dick said after a moment. “I actually think I have something that can fix this.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Jason sniffed, cocking his head to the side. His eyes red-rimmed, but focused. “D’you got emotional superglue in that fucking utility belt?”

“Close,” Dick said, and wiped his face of all tears. He pulled out his wallet, and held up a twenty dollar bill. “I have it on good authority that milkshakes fix everything.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh, staring at the money in hand. “Well, shit. When you put it like that…”

Dick wiggled his eyebrows, and Jason cracked an indulgent smile.

Just like that, it became easy again. A familiar song played on rusty strings. Their eyes still red, their voices still raw— they hauled themselves up by eachother’s arms and started again.

As they bump shoulders on their way through the front door, the last piece of his soul jostled into its rightful place.

"Little Wing, you know I love you, right?" Dick asked, stirring his milkshake aimlessly with a frosted metal straw.

Jason looked up the crummy diner table and stared for a long moment, before relenting.

"Yeah," he said easily. He had chocolate on the corners of his mouth, just like a little kid, like nothing had ever changed at all. "I know, Dickie."

Dick smiled and nodded to himself.

Yes, every piece of his soul where it should be. Even if cracked and dented in odd places, they were all there. Finally, he felt like the world was righted.

#batfamily #dick grayson #dick grayson fic #jason todd #tim drake #fanfiction #tumblr fanfic #hurt/comfort #fear toxin #batfamily fanfiction #ao3 writer #batman #found family

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finnedfatale · 2 days

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Well, let me take it for a try. How about some fluff headcanon about favorite things to do when relaxing for Diasomnia. I really love fluff about Tsunotaro!

Giggling, rubbing my hands like a fly. Four big guys. Headcanons are my favorite tbh, I love taking characters and mishmashing what I feel is right for them.

Lilia, Sebek, Silver and Malleus.

You said you like malleus so get ready to read pookie.

Lilia's obviously is hanging upside down. You'd think he does that only to scare people, but for him it's a surprisingly comfortable position to read in. He used to practice instruments for fun but now he has most mastered, from guzheng to percussion so he doesn't find it all that relaxing anymore. He prefers to sit in a dark room, enlightened by candles as he reads something. It's usually a romance, he steers away from any books he deems as fantasy due to thinking they're boring (and already reading the better ones a long time ago). Though, one time Yuu offered him a book from their universe. Despite being a thick and complicated fantasy series, Lilia read through it in less than a day. He was fascinated by all sorts of magic described in the book, having to take everything he knew about his own universe and reconsider if all this fantasy in the book was meant to truly be like a weird alternative version of the one he is in. Yuu never saw that book again, though Yuu did get thousands of questions from Lilia about said book.

Sebek doesn't relax. You think he relaxes? WRONG!!! He's always on high alert in case his liege needs him.... Though he does admit, reading is a hobby of his which he indulges in often. It may not be very surprising but everytime there is thundering outside he relaxes like never before, he himself never is able to fully relax until he hears that distinct rumbling and a deafening crash of light. Though he only watches from inside due to most lighting being accompanied by cold rain, he prefers warm places! (Canonically he finds the school's botanical garden relaxing due to it being warm and humid!)

Silver's weird fact about himself is the fact that he keeps a collection of sword handles. He used to keep full swords (and he still has some) but his collection took up so much place that he decided to shorten them. Blades of the swords were never interesting to him anyways, it's mostly the handles that were intricately designed. To relax he often goes through his collection and polishes them until they shine so bright that it's almost like looking into a mirror. If still needing to relax and his polishing attempts didn't calm him enough, he goes outside in order to feed the birds. The Diasomnia dorm is mostly surrounded by crows which always scurry around him when they see him.

Malleus is somewhat of a yapper. He doesn't get too into talking though until he is sure he can, keeping a distance to his words before actually yapping. Though... When one of the people he trusts more comes by, he tends to talk and talk about mundane topics until the corners of his mouth hurt from speaking. Even other people in the dorm fail to get to see that side of him, it's reserved for those who he can actually open to which isn't a lot of people. When Yuu came by he opened up to them due to a few simple reasons. Tamagotchis and dedication. Other than Malleus having one, Yuu carried about three on their person. He wondered why Yuu needs so many only to find out that two were broken and serving simply as keychains, he understood it simply as attachment to an item they deeply cared for. But for Yuu it was more of a "fixing it costs more money" situation. The two didn't talk much, occasionally passing eachother in the hallways. Yuu found out through Idia's doing that the little devices were compatible despite being from different universes and if given a bigger screen the creatures could interact. Everyday that Malleus saw Yuu, he silently watched as they paced back and forth while planning things. It gotten to the point that Yuu randomly screamed out "Eureka!" and other stuff in class when they gotten a plan on what to do next. Though with the two broken devices Yuu managed to make a scuffed version of a wide tamagotchi. It was like a small connecting screen which as soon as it was placed near a tamagotchi (or a similar device) transfered it from the small screen to the bigger one. Malleus was hesitant at first, obviously scared to put his beloved object next to something that looked like a portable bomb or a Nintendo switch without a casing. But everyday he did it and the two talked while they took care of their little electronic creatures. Malleus finally felt like he could open up, everytime he talked with Yuu he could feel his heart warming up to them. Eventually he forgot about the toy for a bit, only coming to Yuu in order to talk about everything and nothing. Hobbies, food, new things he learned, things Yuu may have not known, history of twisted wonderland... He finally had a friend he could talk to :)

This was long oh my days. This ask was actually so cute so I decided to yap and yap like Malleus. I think I'm getting more comfortable about writing to you guys because my posts are only gonna get longer.

Though... i can't stop imagining what would happen if he finally found a friend in Yuu and the next day they were able to go back to their universe bro would be mentally destroyed 😭

Also this got me thinking why Silver doesn't have a last name. Like shouldn't he have one?? And why is Sebek the only guy from Diasomnia from another place?? Like said place doesnt even have a tumblr tag 🤔

I think I should go offline for today. Too much thoughts.

#malleus draconia #twst wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst yuu #diasomnia #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #silver #briar valley

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lostalioth · 3 hours

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𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, blood, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you saying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddle with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, whether you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck�� in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settling over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

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yanderes-galore · 9 hours

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Redson (from lmk) oneshot? If I need to be specific the darling maybe attempted to escape or leave ^^

Sure! It may be a bit short... but here you go!

Flash Fire

Yandere! Red Son with Escaping! Darling Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Anger issues, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Isolation, Accidental burning/Just burning, Toxic relationship, Implied punishment near the end, Forced relationship.

Ever since he took you here... heat has been all you've known. Lava lakes surrounded the fortress, always making the building hot. Meanwhile, your captor himself, was a demon of fire...

Your past two months have been suffocating.

You've been spending the past few weeks exploring the fortress's many rooms and hallways. You've had to be careful as you do so, not wanting to make Red Son suspicious. You've seen the demon when he's angry...

It isn't pleasant.

Red Son had done a lot to try and garner your attention. He's given you your own room in the fortress, he's been as patient as he can be. Sure, sometimes you've had... hiccups...

But far as he knows, you've been obedient for the past couple weeks! Lately he's trusted you around the fortress more without supervision. Red Son thinks he's broken you in, made you his perfect lover...

In reality, you've been playing a game the past few weeks... remembering every routine... every room...

Then, today, you finally made your big escape.

Sweat clung to your skin as you run across the heated ground. After running across the bone bridge, you're careful to look around. Lava pools greet your vision... the heat immense.

It's hard to breathe.

You begin to realize you didn't plan well when escaping. You knew the building well, yes... but you have failed when it comes to planning how to navigate the volcanic mountain. You bite your lip... yet are determined to not give up.

Escaping is difficult, nearly impossible as you try not to burn yourself. The heat from the lava pools makes your lungs burn. The smell of heated rock stinging in your nose.

You thought you were doing well despite you feeling your skin flare. If you could just sustain it all a little more... Maybe you can find help. You were running mostly on instinct, not quite thinking of what you'll do next... anywhere is better than here...

Then you feel a rush of heat and fire, like an eruption went off behind you.

You're quickly tackled to the ground, the black ash ground coating your clothes and skin. Heat washes over you... hotter than a summer day. Hands hold you down... it feels as though fire is touching your skin.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" An unfortunately familiar face roars, making you look up in pained fear. Red Son, your captor and forced love, glares you down. His eyes burn with a bright inferno as he growls down at you.

"What has gotten into you!? I thought you learned by now leaving me is futile! Are you trying to get yourself killed! You can't survive alone on this volcano!" Red Son rants, anger and annoyance in his voice but... you can faintly tell he's distressed.

You failed to realize Red Son no doubt knew you couldn't escape. He was not only used to the heat, but capable of teleportation through fire as a demon. In your desperation... you failed to realize how easy it would be to catch you.

You're not being rational... stuck in isolation for months... you just want to go home.

"Should've known you'd try something...." Red Son scoffs, getting off to pull you up. "You were being way too nice...."

Shame and pain render you silenced. Red Son's grip is burning due to his rage. The heat threatens to harm you more than it already is if you push him too far.

Red Son is dangerous when angry... his rage like that of a flash fire... the tension in the air just needing one spark...

Then you'll be engulfed in flames.

"You get on my nerves, know that?" Red Son growls, preparing a portal back home. His home. "I treat you like royalty in a fortress and you do what? You run! You run and pay me NO mind!"

Fire crackles in his other hand before a portal of flame opens. He glances at you with a frustrated gaze before roughly tossing you in. You yelp, fire singeing your skin and hair as you collapse onto the dark floors of the fortress.

You look up to see Red Son step out of the portal, the flame extinguishing as he glares down at you. You recall you're back in the room he gave you. You flinch under his gaze... the burning pain on your skin is a reminder of your failure...

Along with the burning pain of shame in your gut.

"You're never leaving my sight EVER." Red Son scolds, roughly yanking you to lay on the bed. You hiss in pain, but he ignores it. Reluctantly he ignores your pain... even if you couldn't tell.

"Can I even trust you again after this? It's taken months to get this far!" Red Son rambles, exasperated. "You have been such a pain, why won't you love me?"

His last words sounded almost like a plea. The sound of a child, now man, who has been starved of proper love. It almost ignites pity...

But your new burns, accidental or not, remind you he doesn't deserve that.

"... I will not stand for this." Red Son admits, turning to face you. You ironically freeze upon seeing the burning rage in his eyes.

"Look at me." Red Son threats, fire sparking in a hand as he pulls you closer with the other. "You will not do this again..."

He pulls up your shirt, revealing your skin. He then hovers a burning hand over your stomach. You squirm, know what's to come, but it doesn't stop...

"I'll make sure you never do it again...!"

Red Son's threat is the spark needed to ignite the tension in the air, to ignite his wrath...

A flash fire of pent up rage soon enveloping your skin just as you feared... making your screams ring throughout the room...

You really will never run again after this.

#yandere lego monkie kid #yandere lmk #yandere red son

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real-reulbbr-band · 6 months

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some Coricojerrie headcanons

⪼﹕As far as goals, these two are very different, Mungojerrie has no set goal, he wants whatever gratifies him in the moment, stealing from the next house, emulating Tugger, etc. Coricopat doesn’t understand this, probably because he has so many goals he wants to work towards, most of them summing up to wanting to support the Jellicle community as a whole in a meaningful way.

Despite their differences, Coricopat occasionally tries to gently nudge Mungojerrie towards considering more lasting accomplishments.He tells him that the short-lived happiness of his little escapades will fade, and that investing in something more substantial could bring greater fulfillment in the long run.

Mungojerrie does listen to this advice with a mixture of sarcasm and amusement; he finds amusement in Coricopat's sincerity, and teases Cori about being overly concerned about him, and tries to highlight the desire he has to live in the present. Even if Mungojerrie isn't ready to fully embrace the idea of long-term goals himself, he does, in the back of his mind, appreciate Coricopat's comments and acknowledge the genuine worry.

⪼﹕Coricopat does tend to sleep with his eyes open, which isn’t completely unusual for cats; no, he sleeps with them wide open on occasion. As if he were just staring off into the distance.

Coricopat's unique sleeping habit is a direct consequence of his psychic abilities, which grant him heightened awareness even during sleep. In this state, Coricopat experiences vivid visions, with the clarity and duration of these visions influenced by his proximity to his twin sister, Tantomile. When Coricopat and Tantomile are together, their visions are clearer and longer, often shared between them in synchrony. However, when apart, Coricopat's visions become shorter and less distinct. Despite this, he attempts to interpret these visions independently before discussing them with Tantomile. Surprisingly, depending on when they fall asleep, Tantomile and Coricopat frequently see the same visions at differing times.

Back to Mungojerrie, though; he’s observant; he needs to be in order to steal so well, so it didn’t take him too long to decipher whether Coricopat was staring off or "resting.” One particular sign that Coricopat was mellowing out was that his tail would swish around from left to right every minute or so; if he was resting, however, his tail wouldn’t move at all. When he’d catch him in the act, he’d normally wait by Coricopat to see if he would tell him what he saw.

Any other cat wouldn’t tell Mungojerrie anything; he was known to cause trouble, after all, but Coricopat didn’t mind. In fact, he found it helpful to discuss what he saw as it helped him interpret it better, and Mungojerrie did provide insights Coricopat may not have always thought of as an explanation, regardless of if they were wrong or right.

⪼﹕Coricopat is the more social of the psychic twins, so Mungojerrie always took the liberties of bothering him over Tantomile. He became quite fixated on the idea of outsmarting Coricopat in particular; he’d insist that Coricopat didn’t have any powers at all and would pose absurd questions to him in an effort to "prove" his argument. Even when Coricopat effortlessly answered these questions, Mungojerrie would dismiss it as luck or coincidence, promptly posing another question—often unrelated and equally absurd—just to keep the banter going. Like what he had for supper two moons ago, or how he’s going to feel about the weather tomorrow.

Despite Mungojerrie's persistent teasing, Coricopat remained patient and good-natured, his understanding demeanor shining through. Unwilling to admit defeat, Coricopat would sometimes respond with vague answers when unsure of how to answer Mungo’s questions, enjoying the faux rivalry he shared with Mungojerrie. However, when he was confident in his knowledge, Coricopat made sure to assert his correctness, taking pleasure in proving Mungojerrie wrong. He enjoyed the humorous challenge of their relationship and didn't mind repeating himself to his foolish mate in order to get his point across.

#trying a different style for these why not #this is mostly from a pre-realationship perspective mostly going over some of the dynamics between them #Mungopat #Coricojerrie #idk if I'll put it on main tags hmm #This was more difficult for me because I tend to avoid talking about characters I'm not completely confident in my portrayal of #especially when they're beloved characters (the fandom scares me like that)#but hey #it's better to try and fail than not attempt at all.#and I wanted to make a post about them for a while #Also also I go on little tangents a lot sorry #CH #I'm posting this now so I stop editing it

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anachronistic-falsehood · 1 year

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i NEED to do a big gender themes analysis of knives in tristamp i’m listening to the melanie martinez album and milk of the siren is soooo knives i’m going to lose it. i gotta write about him AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!!!!

#whiskey yelling into the void #trigun #trigun stampede #he’s so like. female rage at the unfairness of it all but employing toxic societal norms in an attempt to fight back when really he’s just #playing further into those societal norms and not accomplishing anything beneficial for anyone #the violation of his plant sisters when trying to fight for what he thinks is right and becoming so deluded in his own vision of the future #that he just. fails to see the real point and causes more harm than good #and cash is no better!! he’s very oh it’s ok you can have a second chance! and a third!!! as many as you need to get better!!!!#but that doesn’t always work!!! he’s trying to take the high road but it just doesn’t work #he’s inadvertently causing harm by giving everyone second and third chances and doing nothing to topple the oppressive system #there needs to be a mix of the two for things to actually WORK!!!!#whiskeys word soup

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haarute · 2 years

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mutuals i am hoping you have a lovely 2023 i'm rooting for you i'm here for you you fucking got this champ !!

#here's to a much better year than that piece of filth 2022 #i wish you all the peace and happiness in the world #i'm. going to try to accomplish goals and fail miserably.#but an attempt will be made !!

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delicatetaysversion · 20 days

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it would feel so nice to work towards a career that has meaningful impact and makes millions of people happy

#i follow this person cleo abrams on youtube and she's always talking so excitedly about scientists #and their amazing discoveries cool facts and she's so excited and starry eyed and hopeful #she genuinely just wants to educate people and has so much hope that we can make the world a better place #also like idk maybe unrelated but i saw the mv of new romantics and just. wow #say what you will about her but there's no doubt she's made an insane number of people happy SO HAPPY that they're crying #so many tours #idk i want #i wish my life was bigger #i feel so isolated and always just focusing on myself my career my health my enjoyment #what about everything everyone else #i keep trying to be completely okay with being alone i keep telling myself to not need anyone and be 100% independent #find happiness within hobbies interests #but it feels like a losing battle #i don't know i just. miss everyone 😭😭😭😭#but it hurts too much tbh always more sad than happy always more crying than laughing #i miss my bestfriend i don't know what i did wrong but she won't pick up my call she keeps saying she's busy #i don't want to be clingy because she hates that shit i don't want to drive her away but she's my only friend #i miss my fucking mom she doesn't care if i live or die obviously but i miss just having her presence in the house #and even tho my sister is here she's never fully present always on her laptop working #i wouldn't really say i miss my dad but wow it's been so long since mom and dad stayed together at home it was almost #always miserable but sometimes at the lunch table it was nice #i don't know everything and everyone is moving and changing so fast and i can't breathe under it and it's already september #but this entire year felt like a blur it's like everyone who left took a chunk of my heart with them #and i should be happy because im so close to the exam which will get me out of this house finally be financially independent #like i wanted since i was 11 i could finally start my life #but it all feels so. i don't know the whole future seems black like i can't imagine life past november 2025 #how do you imagine happiness if you've never been happy?#and all these feelings are making it so hard to study and studying is so fucking important because if i don't ill be stuck here forever #and i don't want to go thru attempts fail and pass again atleast back then i had a reason first heartbreak‚ not getting to go to college #but what now why now i don't even understand i know objectively i do not have it that bad it's literally better even if i compare to my own

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sugume · 8 months

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MOMENTS WITH YOUR PREGNANT BELLY w/Jujutsu Kaisen

( CW ) f!reader, reader is pregnant(duh), tooth-rotting fluff

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru

author's note: short rewrite from my old blog

☾ GOJO SATORU

"Toru, stop splashing my stomach!" you exclaimed at your playful husband, attempting to push the lukewarm bathwater onto your stomach, inadvertently splashing your face. "But she likes it, look!" he exclaimed with a huge smile as your daughter continued to kick your stomach. "I don’t need to look; I can feel it," you rolled your eyes. "Feels like she’s trying to break my ribs." You let out a little grunt when she kicks a particular spot. Satoru shoots a worried glance at you. "Are you alright?" he asks, rubbing smooth circles on your stomach. "I'm okay; she just keeps kicking the same spot," you gave him a small smile when he leans down to kiss your belly. "Hey now, take it easy on your momma, or no more splashes for you," he mummers to your stomach. As if your daughter understood, she stops and starts gently kicking in another area. "Look, Angel, she listened to me!" he exclaims before pushing more water into your stomach. "Toru! You got water in my nose!"

☾ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"Are you okay, beautiful?" Toji inquired, concern evident in his eyes as he observes you holding your stomach with a furrowed expression. "Just a big kick from the baby," you struggle to get out, your stomach contracting. "C'mere--lemme make you feel better, baby," he whispered, sitting up on the headboard of the bed and pulling you between his open legs. "What are you doing, Toji?" You question as your husband reached towards the nightstand to grab something. "Makin’ my girl feel better–just lay down and relax," he whispers in your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. With the cramps becoming unbearable, you had no other choice but to obey. Eyes squeezed tight, body resting on Toji’s toned chest, you tense when he starts to gently massage your stomach with what feels like lotion. A moan of relief escaped you involuntarily. "That’s right, let me take care of you," he mummers, continuing the soothing massage.

☾ NANAMI KENTO

"Are you ready to taste heaven, babies?" Nanami smiles warmly at your stomach as if expecting your unborn twins to give a response. Quickly, he leans down and places two affectionate kisses on your stomach, one for each baby. "C'mon, Kento, ’m hungry!" you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. Nanami was supposed to be giving you new food items that he found online, but the more he talks, the more it seems like he's eager for his children to be the taste testers rather than you. "You know they can’t actually give you a review, right?" you question your husband, but he ignores your sass and reaches for a plate. "Duh, ‘course I know that, but they're still going to taste it inside of you," he says as if it's the most obvious thing. "Yeah, all mashed up and mixed with a bunch of different foods. Now, give me that plate–I’m hungry!" you insist, reaching out for the plate as your husband laughs.

☾ GETO SUGURU

"I don’t think they like me," Suguru grumbles, and you laugh as your unborn child tries and fails to kick their father's head off your stomach. "Hell," Suguru yanks his head up and glares at your protruding stomach. "Hey, don’t cuss at my baby," you laugh. "I wouldn’t have to if my baby wasn’t trying to give me a concussion," he rolls his eyes dramatically before rubbing his calloused fingers on your stomach, The baby kicks at his hand. "Don't be so dramatic, Sugu," you roll your eyes at your husband as he continues to tease your child with his hand. "How do you think I feel when they’re kicking my bladder at three AM?" you laugh. "You better not come out as moody as your mommy," he taunts before pressing a soft kiss on your stomach. "I’ll give you whatever you want when you come out if you let me lay down in peace, deal?" he whispers to your stomach, and all he gets is a harsh kick. "Deserved.” You huff out.

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hamadisthings · 3 months

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HELP US STOP CHAT CONTROL!

If you live in the EU, you absolutely need to pay attention to what's to come. What is Chat Control, you may ask? In a (failed) attempt to combat child abuse online the EU made Chat Control, Chat Control will result in getting your private messages and emails to be scanned by artificial intelligence aka AI to search for CSAM pictures or discussion that might have grooming in there. And on top of having your private conversations handed to AI or the police to snoop in, like your family pictures, selfies, or more sensitive pics, like the medical kind, only meant to be seen by your doctors, or the "flirtatious" kind you send to your partner, you either have to ACCEPT to be scanned...or else you will be forbidden from sending pictures, videos, or even links, as said here.

Kids should absolutely be protected online, without question, but the things that Chat Control gets wrong is that this is a blatant violation of privacy, without even considering the fact that AI WILL create tons of false positives, this is not a theory, this is a fact. And for all the false positives that will be detected, all of them will be sent to the police, which will just flood their system with useless junk instead of efficiently putting resources to actual protect kids from predators.

It also does not help that politicians, police officers, soldiers etc will be exempt from Chat Control if it passes. If it's for the sake of protection, shouldn't everyone get the same treatment? Which further prove that Chat Control would NOT keep your data of private life safe. Plus, bad actors will simply stop using messenger apps as soon as they know they're being tracked, using more obscure means, meanwhile innocent people will be punished by using those services On top of this, the EU also plans on reintroducing Data retention called "EU Going Dark". Both Chat Control and EU Going Dark are clear violation of the GDPR, and even if they shouldn't stand a chance in court, its not going to prevent politicians from trying to ram these through as an excuse to mass surveil European citizens, using kids as a shield. Even teenagers sending pictures to each other won't be exempt, which entirely goes against the purpose of protecting kids by retaining their private photos instead. Furthermore, once messaging apps are forced to comply with Chat Control, the president of Signal, a secured messaging app with encryption, have confirmed that they will be forced to leave the EU if this is enforced against them.

If Chat Control also ends up targeting any websites with the option of private messages, you better expect Europe to be geo-blocked by any websites offering such function. I would also like to add that EU citizens were very vocal in the fight against KOSA, an equally bad internet bill from the US-- and it showed! Which is why we heavily need the help of our fellow US peers to fight against Chat Control too, so please, because we all know if it passes, the US government will take a look at this and conclude "Ooh, a way to force mass surveillance on citizens even more than before? don't mind if I do!" It's always a snowball effect.

KEEP IN MIND THE EUROPE COUNCIL WILL LIKELY VOTE ON CHAT CONTROL THIS 19 JUNE OF NEXT WEEK TO SEE IF IT WILL ENTER TRILOGIES OR NOT. Even if it does enter Trilogues, the fight will only be beginning. Absentees may not count as a no, so it is crucial that you contact your MEPs HERE, as well as HERE, and you can also show your support for Edri's campaign against Chat Control HERE.

You can read more on Chat Control here as well, and you can find useful information as to which arguments to use when politely contacting your MEP (calling is better than email) here, and beneath you will find graphics you can use to spread the word!

YOU CAN ALSO JOIN OUR DISCORD SERVER (linked here) TO HELP ORGANIZE AGAINST CHAT CONTROL NON EU PEOPLE ARE MORE THAN WELCOME TO JOIN TOO!

https://discord.gg/FPDJYkUujM

PLEASE REBLOG ! NON EU PEOPLE ARE ENCOURAGED TO REBLOG AS WELL CONTACT YOUTUBERS, CONTENT CREATORS, ANYONE YOU KNOW THAT MAY HELP GET THE WORD OUT ! Let's fight for our Internet and actually keep kids safe online! Because Chat Control and EU Going Dark will only endanger kids.

PLEASE REBLOG! NON EU PEOPLE ARE ENCOURAGED TO REBLOG AS WELL CONTACT YOUTUBERS, CONTENT CREATORS, ANYONE YOU KNOW THAT MAY HELP GET THE WORD OUT !

Let's fight for our Internet and actually keep kids safe online! Because Chat Control and EU Going Dark will only endanger kids.

#chat control #kosa #europe #eu going dark #chatkontrolle #internet censorship #bad internet bills

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anexperimentallife · 3 months

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Project 2025 would ban anything the far right considers pornography. The far right considers anything queer-positive to be pornography, and they WILL encode that into law if given just a TINY bit more power.

Have queer fanfic (or trad published literature) or pics of your transition, or of two men kissing, saved to your hard drive? If the GOP get their way, you'd be guilty of possession of pornography. Did you share any of it? You'd be guilty of distribution of pornography. Have a sweet coming of age story with a queer protagonist? That'd be child pornography.

Even now, states are trying to make it a crime to be openly queer in public (by, among other things, classifying dressing as the "wrong gender" anyplace kids might see as a sex crime against children). Oh, and Florida tried (and thankfully failed) to impose the death penalty for the above.

This is just one example of the horrors awaiting us if the project comes to fruition.

And the far right is already screaming that any adult who mentions around kids that queer people exist is "grooming" children. Wear your Pride shirt past a playground? You're now a child groomer. Think they won't put that into law if allowed? You're naive.

The GOP currently controls the Supreme Court (which is how they overturned Roe v. Wade) and has a majority in one branch of congress. Imagine what will happen nationwide with the GOP controlling every branch of government, including supermajoroties in both houses of Congress.

Oh, and top GOP officials have also announced their desire to NUKE Gaza, so don't come at me with, "but I can't vote blue because Biden..." Or tell me how you think Gaza would somehow be better off with Trump and the GOP.

In France, the left and center joined together--even though they disagree vehemently on many issues (get two leftists together and they'll have three positions on any issue)--to stop the far right from totally taking over, because the one thing they ALL agree on is that fascists dictatorships are BAD.

Much the same with the UK finally kicking out their own neo-fascist party, the Torries, to install 400 Labour MPs. Not everyone loves Labour's policies, but virtually everyone with a brain cell recognizes that the Torries are fascists, and that FASCISM BAD.

"Every election, they tell us this is the most important election if our lives!" Yeah, because each election over the past several decades has been more important than the one before, until we are now at a tipping point between remaining a fucked up oligarchy with SOME resemblance to freedom, and an outright neo-fascist military dictatorship.

Trump has literally stated publicly his intent to criminalize dissent, use US armed forces against protesters (Kent State, but multiply it by thousands), purge all agencies and stuff them with those personally loyal to him, and use the DOJ to go after anyone he perceives as a threat to his political power, among other things.

And remember the things he did in office, like pulling the teeth of federal workplace protections for queer folks (which Biden reatored).

I don't care if you don't like Biden or Harris. Neither do I. But the alternative is Trump, and anyone telling you not to vote in 2024, or to vote third party, is rooting for Trump, and for Project 2025. Anyone telling you not to vote does not give one single solitary flying fuck about vulnerable populations in the US or anywhere else in the world.

"You're just being an alarmist!" Right. Like I was being alarmist when I predicted the failed Jan 6 coup attempt. Like I was being alarmist when I said the GOP would try to use control over SCOTUS to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Fucking vote.

#uncle rob gets political

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killakalx · 5 months

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17+ content, blank blogs dnf

just bsf!dick grayson making you squirt and calling you babe... as a friend of course

“you mean- never?” dick grayson inquires in a flat tone, almost in disbelief. you confirm with a simple and high pitched nope, speaking of all the times you’ve failed to cum using just your hand.

he’s ecstatic at the idea, even if he suspects it’s your attempt of getting him back in your bed. he’s subject to details like this, being your best friend. not to mention you’ve had conversations similar before; but this time is different. this time, you’re having a casual conversation about your bland sex life a week after dick got the chance to fuck the lights out of you; and the chance wasn’t missed, nor a regret. so yes, he sees the bait, and he’s more than happy to take it.

like the clever bastard he is, dick gets you to give him the green light rather than blatantly falling for it. I've slept with people like that, he boasts, you know me though. a few more sneaky remarks and you're sucking the inside of your cheek in defeat before you tell him to 'demonstrate'.

now he’s got a hand down your shorts, carefully situating you into his lap and keeping a steady hand pinching at the fat of your hips. "how's that?" dick asks, circling your clit with generous pressure before slipping right inside. his fingers hit you deep, way deeper than your own or anyone else's, and that little fact has him all the more eager.

calculated efforts nudge at that sweet spot and you gasp, thighs flinching and giving him more room to get a little deeper. you glance at him with an almost awkward expression but he’s already enthralled, lazily tugging your shorts down a bit further with a hungry glint in his eye.

“it’ll feel better when you calm down,” dick coos at you, a sly hand slipping under your shirt to brush over a hardened nipple. “relax for me.” he’s gentle with you despite his brewing impatience, scissoring and spreading your cunt open on his fingers to coax you out of your nervousness. you start rolling your hips and his fingers curl way deeper, eyes shooting open with a soft cry of his name.

“it feels…“ you start with a pleasurable hitch of breath, “feels-“

“good?” he finishes the thought for you with a particularly deep thrust, “I know, sweetheart, but it’ll get better.”

his thumb barely touches your clit and you tremble, arms clinging around his neck as you gasp and whine right into his ear. pretty little noises just for him as his free hand palms your breast, urging you closer and closer into him until you’re moaning into his mouth. from this angle his kisses are sloppy, swallowing up your keens as he finds the speed that has you writhing in his lap.

“yeah- keep doin’ that,” dick manages between kisses, spreading your legs wider as you twitch around him and you swear you hear him moan with you. “just like that, baby- fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“dickie,” you whine, half outta your mind with pleasure, “‘m close- so close, please-“

“I know, sweets, give it to me-“ he pants with you, lips loosely catching yours just before he catches the perfect angle inside you, “cum for me, pretty girl, c’mon.“

your hips grind into his leg a few more times and you cry, holding dick close and practically crumbling in his grasp as you leak around his knuckles. dick talks you through what feels like a never ending orgasm and his hand fails to stop moving, mesmerized by what he’s pulled out of you, sticky fluids dripping into his palm as your pussy squelches around his fingers and you whine.

“dick, I- shit- I just-“

“I know, babe,” he confirms with a pleased grin, still holding you in his lap with the perfect view of your mess. “relax, remember? lemme try something.”

dick shuffles from beneath you until you’re sitting right on top of his cock, throbbing through flimsy pajamas while he works out a new angle. you’re dazed and a bit confused, still trembling in overstimulation until the coil swells into another rapidly approaching orgasm. he’s nudging at your g-spot over and over with more intensity, kissing at your shoulder while groping your tits and it has you damn near tears.

“you feel that, yeah?” he checks, “deep in your tummy? let it go, baby- let me see it.”

you can’t wrap your head around what he’s looking for, but you give it to him regardless- head hanging over his shoulder with a desperate whine and arching away from dick. distantly, you feel the fabric under you, soaked beyond what you thought normal as he trails off in praise over your moans. “goddamn, that was gorgeous- all for me, huh?” his fingers pump in and out a few more times as the high fades, then removing them to finally rest. “was I the first to see that?”

it takes a moment of recovery—deep and staggered breaths with a low whine before processing the mess. before processing that your best friend just made you fucking squirt.

“oh my god,“ you stumble over words, “i’m sorry, dick, I didn’t-“

“babe,” he cuts you off with the casual endearment again, “you’re telling me no one’s made you do that before?” his hand’s soiled with your slick and cum and he brings it to his mouth with no hesitation, letting you slide out of his lap as his tongue laps around his fingers.

“mm… no,” you mutter while ogling at the hard-on straining his ruined pajamas, “I didn’t… I didn’t even know I could do that,” and after a moment, the awkwardness finally seeps away when he laughs out of content with himself.

“y’think you could give me another?” he asks with no shame, kneeling between your legs with the intent of getting his proper fill. “it’ll be better with tongue, too- when you cum, I mean,” he corrects himself as if he gave away his shameful thirst, like you wouldn’t catch on. like you wouldn’t remember how your best friend’s so easily pussy whipped.

dick doesn’t even give you time to answer his question, though, pulling you to the edge of the couch and suckling on your clit as he locks your thighs around his head. you can tell from the groan that vibrates through you that he’s palming his cock through the fabric drenched in your fluids, and you can tell that he fully intends to pull another orgasm out of you all under the guise of ‘demonstrating’ for you.

“you’re shameless, dick grayson.”

“‘nd you taste good,” he mutters matter-of-factly, “I don’t see how you could blame me.” ❧

#went a little 🤏🏽 overboard #only a little #if this is hot lmk #if it’s not then tuff luck </3 #kali ;; wet dreamz #kali ;; dg #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x fem!reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #black!reader #dc x black!reader

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seouljazzbar · 2 months

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GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. ��So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

3K notes · View notes

blkkizzat · 8 months

Note

please write nerd geto ! i’m sure you’ll write something amazinggg

Of course doll! Sorry this took a while I was sick most of December and January whooped my ass with classes starting again but I love love the idea of Nerd!Geto especially a Nerd!Geto with glasses so had to write a whole fic. Hope you like it :3 ♡

Lessons in Anatomy

“Shall I give you a lesson, Y/N? Do you want me to teach you how to squirt?”

summary: thanks to some bad choices and party girl ways you're on academic probation and can't afford to fail another test. fortunately your longtime friend nerd!geto is there to give you lessons in both economics and anatomy.

cw: college AU. fingering, squirting, dirty talk, edging, mentions of satosugu, rich party kid shit, incestuous friendships, mentions of reader x other jjk men, mentions of casual sex/hookups, mentions of drinking/drug use, reader is a dumb (and I mean dumb) bimbo, a little bit of a brat too, slight coercion, slight dubcon, virgin!suguru, soft dom!sugu, sex ed!sugu, roleplay as sugu is pre med major, some minor fluff, pet names: slut, bunny etc. a bit of a crack fic too haha. slightly black fem coded, no descriptors. a/n: LOL how this became an 8.2k fic about squirting idk chile... but special shout out to @littlemochabunni who talked me off a ledge when I was being emo and I wanted to scrap the entire thing and start over. w/c: 8.2k

“I can’t believe I’m here and missing the biggest party of the year!”

You groaned as you scrolled through your stories to see all the pics and vids of your friends living their best drunken lives and happily binge drinking on frat row to celebrate your school’s football league championship win.

Toru just did unassisted keg stand pushups and you missed it!

You, on the other hand, were stuck studying with Suguru in his dorm room.

100% sober and being forced to learn 5 weeks of econ, that you never took a single note for, in one weekend.

Well not forced exactly.

You and Satoru had practically begged Suguru to help you study this weekend. If you failed this class you would flunk out as you were already on academic probation.

“Well I for one can’t believe you’re dumb enough to attempt to cheat off Toji and Sukuna of all people.”

Suguru quipped back while pushing up his glasses. He snatched your phone away from you and placed it on the other side of his desk, away from you.

Not that he took offense to the remark, but he too had better things to do on a Friday night than tutoring you. Keggers definitely weren't his scene though and Suguru wouldn’t be caught dead at a party celebrating with those frat monkeys. Even if said monkeys included his childhood friends.

However, as a pre-med student he’d much rather stay in to write his essay for the clinical research internship he was trying to get.

“Hey! I didn’t cheat off them for the record! Toji and Sukuna said they had the hookup for the answers!”

You pouted grumbling as you tried to reach for your phone on the other side of the table only for Suguru to take it again. This time he slid it into his pockets, keeping it away from you for good.

“Urgh, it’s not my fault they got the test for ECON 230A and 230B mixed up. I didn’t even know there was a second section!”

Suguru had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at you again. The pilfered test definitely had ‘ECON 230B’ printed in big bold letters at the top.

You all were idiots.

Unfortunately for you, you were just a cheerleader idiot.

The other idiots, Toji and Sukuna, dubbed the ‘The Boom Bros’, were the reason your team even won the championships in the first place. The best defensive backs your college or any college in your division have seen, ever. Not letting an opposing team score more than 10 points the entire season, there was no way in hell they were going down for that right before the championships.

That left you as the scapegoat, which was something Suguru noted that you happily took the fall for. Although there is a very good possibility of you being a soon-to-be college dropout, your social clout was skyrocketing.

Word spread among the popular social circles fast on how you ‘saved the big game’.

Suguru couldn’t care less about football, though he was getting annoyed at all the texts, DMs and messages you received asking where you were. They were making you completely lose the little focus you were capable of, which is what made him confiscate your phone in the first place.

Sighing, Suguru was pretty sure you would be competent enough to pass if you just applied yourself more to anything other than drinking and parties.

“Y/N, just try to focus on studying, please.”

You pouted, turning back to the textbook in front of you.

How did Suguru’s nerdy ass enjoy studying so much?

Studying, especially anything to do with math, gives you an ick. In fact, you were sure the only reason you graduated from high school and even got into this university was because you played 7-minutes-in-heaven with Choso at the start of senior year.

It had been a secret double dare from Gojo but you sucked the soul out of that boy in Gojo’s closet that night. From then on, Choso pretty much did anything you wanted that year, including all your homework. Hell, he even wrote your college admissions essays and in turn you gave him some sloppy toppy here and there.

Choso was always eager to feel your soft lips on his cock, so you’re sure he could have thought of a better way for you to cheat so you didn't have to study at all and could be out partying right now. It’s just your bad luck that he was studying abroad this semester with his little brother Yuuji.

Although, even if you did flunk out you weren’t that worried. Worst case scenario if you couldn’t find a career or a husband you could always be one of Gojo’s three mistresses he said he would keep once he was older, married and had taken over his family’s company.

He had pinky-pie-promised he would take care of you if you needed it and as one of your best friends you knew he was good for that promise. Even if he did make it while you both were partying, tripping balls off acid so hard that Satoru convinced himself your cunt could produce cotton candy. He chewed on your pussy for 2 hours straight one wild night on your group’s graduation trip where he then asked if you would be his future mistress.

But that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted that life for yourself. You liked your independence and Satoru would be alot to deal with, even with 2 other mistresses and a wife.

Therefore, unless you wanted to resign yourself to that fate, you were stuck with Suguru as your tutor.

It’s not like you didn’t get along with Suguru, he’d been one of your closest friends since you were young along with Satoru. But as you got older your interests kind of drifted apart and you saw him less and less, especially as you got to college.

You wanted to party and Suguru prioritized studying.

You had missed him. You wanted to have fun with him again.

And this was definitely not fun.

Reading the same paragraph for the fifth time and retaining shit all of whatever the passage had said about ‘demand curve fluctuations’, you were ready to climb up the walls.

You began to fidget, still in your cheer uniform from the game earlier. The material of your skirt rode up to your upper thighs when you splayed your knees out and leaned forward to lay your head on the desk face down with an exasperated yawn.

Suguru shared in your exasperation but directed his towards you with another sigh, looking you over. His weariness at you from your inability to study causes his eyes to linger on your form longer than they should.

Resting against his desk, your back had molded into a nice natural little arch as your tits pushed forward . Adjusting his glasses Suguru found it difficult to pull his eyes away once they landed on your thighs. Practically leering, Suguru is transfixed by the way the fabric bunched at your hips digs into your soft skin.

He curses your university’s school colors as the next thing that caught his eye was the bright yellow cheer panties you wore that were tight enough to show the full shape of your cunt. Your panties are so skinforming that they don’t fail to give you camel toe. The indent of the slit between your fat pussy lips is on full display.

You’ve always been attractive, Suguru muses as he feels his pants slightly tighten. But it’s no mystery why you were such a slut now if these were the positions you found yourself in when alone with guys.

“Seeing something you like, Sugu baby?”

Suguru snaps his head up at your teasing to see you looking straight at him, your head still resting on his desk but has since turned to face him. The wink along with the lazy yet knowing smile forming on your cherry stained lips lets him know you know he was staring at your cunt.

Caught red handed, Suguru rolls his eyes and scoffs as he returns back to the textbooks in front of him while you laugh. Dismissing your question entirely he changes the subject back to studying but can’t resist throwing in a little dig to take the heat off himself.

“Y/N, can’t you just focus? You’ve barely made any progress… Or is it that you want to flunk out and be reduced to Toru’s mistress or something?”

Fuck, you forgot Suguru knew about that too. (Duh, of course he did. He was the sober one who found you both, taking care of you once your come downs had hit).

Not letting him get away with that shade, the brat in you clapped back as you returned his sarcasm back at him.

“Okay, well high school was one thing but do you want to go through college without getting any play too? Or are you satisfied just from peeking up a skirt?”

Annoyance flashes in Suguru’s eyes. He thought you had some audacity seeing as you were the one who was casually flaunting your pussy for him in the first place. Nevertheless, you continued, using Suguru as a punching bag for your current academic frustrations.

“Your pocket pussy and getting head from Toru behind the bleachers at prom doesn’t count by the way!”

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose as his tolerance of the situation had officially bubbled over. He was tired of everyone thinking he was missing out on something just because he didn’t want to kill off brain cells partying every weekend or play STD Roulette with casual hookups.

You bringing up prom was a low blow. It was the first time he’d ever had a drink and Toru had practically begged him. Satoru wanted to know if his head was just as good for guys as it was for girls (spoiler alert: it was).

Also, what you thought just because you fucked around alot it was actually any good?

“Yeah and getting railed by a bunch of banana brained monkey jocks, that counts Y/N? They wouldn’t know what to do with your clit even if it was an actual football.”

Suguru retorted and he watched as your eyes widened with shock then seethed with anger as you finally sat upright in the seat.

Ding Ding! He had hit a nerve.

“Oh and you would know what to do, cherry boy?”

Suguru knows he probably shouldn’t push it further. But like Satoru, you always knew what buttons to push to get under his skin. Suguru can’t help but to want to get under your skin as well, especially since he was never one of the ones getting under your clothes.

“Well I can actually spell clitoris, so that already puts me at an advantage over those ball chasing monkeys. Have you ever even had a real orgasm before, Y/N?”

You started to speak but Suguru cut you off before you could.

“—and I mean one that didn’t come from tripping with Satoru or a toy? I bet you’ve never even squirted before.”

Damn.

You resisted the urge to chew on your lip, not wanting him to know just how right he was but your immediate silence was telling. Racking your brain, you tried to find a way to get your lick back but found yourself at a loss.

It was mostly true to be honest.

A hot and heavy make-out session at a party would typically lead to mostly underwhelming sex and you would have to return to your dorm or wait for them to leave to finish yourself off with your rose or dildo… or both.

Okay and sure, maybe the one and only time you did really have an intense body orgasm was the time you dropped acid with Satoru but… fuck –Wait…squirting?! Wasn’t that just pee? Gross!

Satisfied with your small ammunition, after a pause you bit back again.

“Alright, so frat boys aren’t sex gods, tell me something I don’t know. It’s still sex Suguru—”

You flipped your hair and crossed your legs arrogantly as you continued.

“— sex that you aren’t having, which, duh, is obvious if you think squirting is an actual thing. Because Eww nasty, I’m so not into piss-play, Sugu!”

You waited for his reply, assuring your win but Suguru just blinked at you, dumbfounded.

The thought of you having won shatters when Suguru erupts into a fit of laughter. Hitting the table for emphasis Suguru was near howling as the glasses fell off his face and he had to clutch his sides for support, keeling over in his chair.

Suguru couldn’t actually believe that you believed squirting was the same as urinating!

On second thought, knowing you, this kind of checked out…

Watching Suguru in a fit of hysterics had your face burning with embarrassment as waves of self-consciousness came over you.

To be honest, you weren’t even sure why you were feeling insecure as this was supposed to be your victory! This was not the reaction you expected from him at all to say the least!

Just what made this so funny!? Because you didn’t want to piss yourself during sex?!

“Sugu…”

“Hey, Suguru!!!”

Frustrated with him ignoring you and still laughing after failing to get his attention, you jumped up from your seat and marched directly in front of Suguru. Angrily you yanked his head up by his man bun.

You were so ready to tell Suguru to go to hell for laughing at you. Even if you weren’t too sure exactly what he was laughing at you for, he was still being a jerk right now.

However the words caught in your throat as soon as you saw his face.

Suguru’s wide grin easily illuminated the dimly lit dorm room. Tears gathered in the crinkle around his eyes and pulled into an expression of such warmth that you were reminded of all the fun times you had together goofing off over the years. You nearly forgot what it was like to see him laugh like this.

So nostalgic you almost forgot he was still laughing at your expense — almost.

“Don’t be an asshole Sugu…”

Your voice was low, lacking any real bite as all your fire fizzled and was replaced by a pout.

Defeated, you let go of your stiff grip on his silky bun causing it to unravel and frame his face with thick black strands that flowed down past his shoulders. Although it wasn’t the first time you had seen Suguru with his hair down and no glasses, you couldn’t help but stare at him now.

He had grown much more into his features since high school.

College Suguru had sharper eyes, a slimmer face with a strong jawline and hair that flowed down to his chest. Not to mention his lanky boyish frame had filled out. The muscles underneath were prominent now even if he was wearing a baggy band tee and sweats. Suguru didn’t go to parties but from the looks of him he certainly didn’t miss going to the gym.

He didn’t look much like the nerd you knew him to be right now at all.

Granted, you were still a bit salty with Suguru but didn’t want to fight with him anymore. Especially given the way his dark eyes sparkled as he gazed up at you, your heart nearly skipping a beat as if you were really only noticing him now for the first time.

Sniffling, a cocktail of emotions swirls in you. Moisture pricks in the corners of your eyes despite yourself.

Suguru, who was also staring at you, took notice right away.

“Hey Bunny, I’m sorry...”

You relaxed a bit hearing the old nickname he and Satoru gave to you back in middle school, you couldn’t remember the last time he called you that.

Grabbing your hand in his much larger one, Suguru gave your palm a gentle rub with his thumb. His hand was surprisingly soft.

Despite his sweet gesture, your brow twitched slightly at Suguru’s soft chuckles, still continuing albeit less frequently, at your expense.

“It’s just that… I dunno, I guess I would have expected you to have experienced it at least once before Y/N, it’s definitely not pee.”

You huffed. You still weren’t convinced it wasn’t pee but now you were more curious than anything.

“And how do you know that Suguru? You’ve made a girl squirt before?”

There was no sarcasm in your tone this time, just doubt since he would have told Toru and Toru definitely would have told you if Suguru was getting play from someone.

Suguru to his credit wasn't discouraged though.

If anything, he seemed to gain confidence on the matter now that you weren’t fighting him, rather looking to him for knowledge, for the first time tonight.

“Well, no, but I did get a 4.0 out of Anatomy last semester and unlike you I actually paid attention in Sex Ed. Also, just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless. There is a little thing called the internet, Y/N.”

You mouthed an ‘O’— a bit ashamed that you actually thought because he was a virgin who didn’t party he was merely just sitting around clueless to everything about sex.

But what could just reading textbooks and the internet teach him over actual experience?

Then again, Suguru was practically a genius, if he was saying something was possible you could be sure it was. Still you couldn’t stop your mind racing as you considered his previous words.

You were the one with all the experience so you should have experienced it before, right?

Maybe the guys you hooked up with weren’t the problem then? Maybe you were.

“What if– w-what if I’m the problem Suguru? What if I just can’t?”

Tugging you closer, his fingers now interlacing with yours, Suguru’s other hand settled on your hip giving you a warm squeeze. You were so close to him now that his chin almost rested on your belly and Suguru was craning his head up to you with a small sly grin still on his face.

“It’s not a matter of can or can’t Bunny, you just don’t know how. Shall I give you a lesson, Y/N?”

“Do you want me to teach you how to squirt?”

You felt a bit lightheaded as you considered the words that just came out of Suguru’s mouth. You weren’t shy at all when it came to matters of sex and you had the reputation to prove it. Yet your stomach still did a little flip at Suguru propositioning you.

Sure you were a bit of a slut and had at least made out with almost every guy in your group of friends, but not Suguru. Not for lack of attraction though, you had teased Suguru in the past but he had always been the responsible one, like an older brother or protector.

Besides, Satoru was always so needy for his attention. There weren’t often times you were with Suguru alone and he never seemed all too interested in sex either, at least when directly compared to a horn dog like Satoru.

You didn’t actually know if he was serious though so you decided to make light of it, giggling.

“If you wanted me to pop your cherry Sugu, all ya had to do was ask.”

Suguru smiled back at you, he shook his head chuckling.

“I’ll only need to use my fingers, Y/N. Besides, this is about you. What I really want is for you to not flunk out, I would miss you, ya know?”

You try to keep a poker face but you couldn’t help feeling giddy at the fact you were extremely happy to hear Suguru would miss you. You had already missed him and combined with the inkling of new feelings stirring in your chest from seeing your old friend in a new light you feel adrenaline begin to pump through you as you brim with nervous energy.

“Let’s think of this as a study break from Economics. You had to miss the party but we can still have some fun. You might even learn something for once, eh?”

His hand left your hip in order to push the books and papers on his desk aside and patted the wooden surface. The hand still intertwined with yours guided you over.

“Hop on up, Bunny. It’s time for your anatomy lesson.”

You look at the desk and pause as if you are unsure, biting your lip.

Thoughts of finally hooking up with Suguru excited and the fact you were nervous whether you would disappoint him if you couldn’t actually squirt flood your mind at once. However when you meet Suguru’s eyes and feel gentle reassuring pressure on your hand your body is already moving towards the desk, making the decision for you.

Your heart is already thudding in your eardrums by the time you settle on top of Suguru’s study desk. Suguru immediately shifts into instructor mode, picking his glasses up off the floor and adjusting them back on his face.

He directs you to lean back and relax and soon your shoulders are against the wall behind the desk as you are propped up on your elbows.

You yelp as Suguru startles you by grabbing your hips with a firm squeeze and scooches you flush to his pelvis. Feet propped up to the edge as well all you needed were the stirrups and you could have been at the gyno's office, giggling now at the thought.

“Sugu, you can’t be serious. I feel like you’re about to give me a pap, not an orgasm.”

Suguru’s mouth twitches up into a smirk.

“There’s a reason they have you lie in this position, makes for easier access. If you’re going to squirt I’m going to need to find that slutty lil’ gland of yours and I don’t mean your clit, Bunny.”

You huffed but you were otherwise agreeable.

You couldn’t deny you were a slut especially not now with your legs spread open wide exposing your bright yellow cheer-panty clad cunt to Suguru. Laid out like this, the thin layer of spandex is stretched to its absolute limits causing your chubby pussy lips to poke out of the sides. This does not go unnoticed by Suguru who hadn’t taken his eyes off your lower half since you initially spread your legs.

His Adam's apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed and breathed deeply at the sight of you.

Suguru can barely believe he’s really about to do this.

If anything he is overconfident in his abilities, despite his lack of actual on-the-job experience so to speak. From all his studying as a pre-med student, books, health articles and yes even porn, Suguru could say he had an in-depth understanding of human anatomy and bodily functions.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t need to calm himself enough to stop his balmy palms from sweating further at the reality of finally being allowed to actually touch you.

“I’ll be in your care then, Doctor Geto.”

You make a lighthearted joke with a nervous laugh to ease your own anticipation. However the joke has the opposite effect for Suguru and he snaps his head up as if you had activated something in him.

Suguru’s fiery expression sends shivers down your back. Although as quickly as it appeared it was gone again, replaced by his trademark comforting grin. Even so your fingers pressed a bit deeper into the wood beneath you, steadying your frazzling nerves.

“Well aren’t you a lucky one then, being my first patient ever. You’ll be a good little pussy and listen to me, won't you?”

Suguru is looking down again, speaking directly to your cunt who is tingling in response to his voice. It’s fucking lewd. But then again so is the studious scrutiny of Suguru’s eyes so single-mindedly transfixed to your cunt you wonder if his leer alone could dissolve the cheer panties right off of you.

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding once Suguru finally starts touching you.

But not your pussy just yet.

His long thick fingers are surprisingly cool on your skin as they press into your warmth, ghosting just above your knee on both sides.

Gentle strokes travel down along your inner thighs and up again to lightly tickle the backs of your legs. You tense and squirm beneath him when your eyes meet Suguru’s own.

“Sugu–”

“Patience, Bunny. It’s no wonder you never cum if you’re so used to diving right in. You need to relax first. This won’t happen if you aren’t relaxed, can you try to do that for me?”

You nodded back at him, yet the goosebumps left in the wake of Suguru’s soft caresses had you trembling. So used to rushed thrusts and hurried grasps, you don’t know how to just take it in the moment.

You had never been touched this delicately before.

Already oversensitive, if anything you felt like the one who was the virgin in this situation.

If Suguru notices, he says nothing. His touches are progressively firmer, the light pets morphing into soft squeezes and circular strokes of the hand once he traverses closer to your core.

“You know Bunny, the inner thigh area is an erogenous zone? Can you say that, Y/N? Ero-gen-ous?

Suguru pronounces the word out for you as his heavy muscular hands make their way to the crease of your inner thighs, his hands once more perilously close to your pussy as he pauses looking up at you again expectantly.

“Say it, Y/N.”

Your cunt clenches at his command and it leaves you stuttering. Heat blossoms across your cheeks from how needy you sound choking out the word.

“Er-Ero-gennn-ous.”

Suguru rewards you by moving his hands again but to your dismay they pass your core to dig into your hips, his thumbs swirling over your hip bones. He leans his body in closer to you and you break eye contact to turn your head away lest you really start falling apart in his hands.

“Good girl. Ya know, you’re quite bright with the right motivation, Bunny.”

Puffs of moist heat glide over the tip of your ear as his lips are only millimeters away from your skin. His words stimulate a deep in your gut reaching all the way down to your toes, trying to resist how much he’s affecting you.

Suguru chuckles at your bashfulness.

“Are you always this shy, Bunny? Or does that honor just belong to me?”

You whimpered. You aren’t sure how you got here.

How was Suguru, a nerdy virgin, making you come undone like this? You didn’t know where the darkness that crept up on the edges of his eyes was coming from either, yet you squirm in anticipation despite yourself.

You loved it.

Always a know-it-all, so you would hate to admit it outloud, but Suguru was already making you feel more excitement than any frat boy you had been with. Lack of hands-on experience be damned. You’re losing it as his lips sensually flutter against your collarbone.

“Y-you s-said only fingers, S-Sugu!”

Your voice lacks any real reprimand as you are arching up into his touches and quivering for more. Suguru obliges as he alternates between delicate nips and open mouth kisses sinfully marking you. Groaning into the crook of your neck Suguru savors the lingering taste of your perfume and the natural saltiness of your skin.

Returning his attention back to your ear Suguru’s breath trails over your skin until your lobe is once again trapped between his moist lips. He lightly tugs it between his teeth before giving it a sharp bite.

“AHH!”

The sting sends a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your cunt and a strangled noise escapes your lips. Your knees are starting to buckle but Suguru’s quick reflexes stopped your legs from clamping together all the way, bracing you.

Taking your hands and leading them to the backs of your thighs, Suguru is making you steady yourself back into a spread position for him and gives you strict instructions not to move.

“Good girl… This should be more than obvious now Bunny, but there are erogenous zones all over your body that connect to the pleasure nerve endings here.”

Suguru’s voice is silky as his index finger tows long strokes over the slit of your clothed cunt and applies pressure on your clit for emphasis. Whines fumble out of you when Suguru switches from steady swipes to idle flicks with pads of his fingers and your legs twitch again once more.

“It's important to simulate multiple areas simultaneously and I only have two hands, don’t I? You don’t mind Y/N do you?”

You still can’t bear to look Suguru in the eyes, much less respond vocally so you just shake your head.

“Feeling good, Bunny? Which do you like better, the strokes or the flicks?”

Your eyes squeeze shut from Suguru demonstrating both over your covered cunt. You try not to tear up but the amount of autonomy you had in this situation was new to you. Embarrassed and vulnerable you’re realizing that in spite of all your sexual experiences you still don’t feel comfortable expressing your needs.

“Hey, Y/N–”

Suguru clutches your face in his massive grip, squishing both your cheeks with a single hand and forcing your glassy eyes back on him. It was hard to focus on what he was saying anyway while you cooed from the feather-like circles he had been drawing on your clit.

“–you have to talk to me. This and sex in general, is just another form of communication. It won't work well and you definitely won’t squirt unless you can express to your partner what feels good and what doesn’t.”

You are sure he can feel the heat gathering in your cheeks radiating off your skin.

“Stop t-teasing S-Sugu… I-I know you can tell it’s good.”

Suguru eases his hold on you, his smirk deepening at your complaint.

“Oh I can, tell Bunny. Believe me. Your pussy, she’s so sensitive no matter how much you try to hide it from me. But I still need to hear it from your mouth regardless.”

The hand playing with your cunt splays out and Suguru fully cups you in his hands. The pulsing of your clit vibrates against his palm even through your panties.

“If you’re going to be a slut Bunny, at least be a vocal one. Be a slut for your own pleasure...this fat n’pretty cunt of yours deserves it.”

Suguru’s mouth is mere millimeters above yours, floating suspended both your lips are parted as you’re sharing the same air. The dizzying effect of breathing him in only intensifies with his words.

“Or perhaps you just get off on the idea of being free use?”

Suguru chuckles but doesn’t make you answer that question in favor of pulling back from you to inspect the large wet spot you soaked through your cheer panties from all of his taunting.

Pleased he gives your clothed pussy a smack, the moisture underneath the flimsy fabric evident in the soft squelchy sound that fills the room.

Smack, another moist sound echoes from your cunt.

“Oh, looks like she’s ready. This mouth down here is so much more talkative, Bunny.”

Hooking his fingers in the fabric Suguru peels your soaked cheer panties to the side, whistling at the thick strings of your essence that lingered between your cunt and your panties.

“So fucking wet, the prettiest most obedient lil’ pussy, aren’t you?”

A fleeting thought of sassing Suguru since yours is the first real pussy he has actually even seen up close dissipates as soon as your entrance flutters against his two thick fingers that rub over your uncovered opening.

Involuntary bucking your hips, the burning urge to feel him inside you is all you care about now, pride be damned.

You want him.

“Sugu–”

“–Shhh!”

Suguru cuts your pleas short.

“Don’t interrupt Doctor Geto when he’s speaking with his favorite patient, Bunny… Your nasty lil’ cunt is really begging for her treatment, isn’t she?”

You pout at him, quieting down while Suguru rewards your submission by slipping into your folds once more, entering fully past your entrance and into your gummy walls. It’s only a single digit inside you but your pussy is hungrily sucking him in deeper, trying to devour his middle finger whole.

Suguru murmurs intelligible obscenities from how warm and tight you are. He needs to find that spot.

Your hands struggle to keep your legs from quaking when you feel his finger, longer, thicker and far more pointed than your own, bottom out before languidly dragging delicious pressure back through you, exploring your walls in search of–

“Found her.”

Your ass jerks up and nearly off the desk entirely when his finger roughly prods into the firm spongy spot within your cunt you didn’t even know existed until now.

“FAH-FAH-FUHHCKKKKKKKKK–”

Your voice cracks and your vision blurs with tears that finally are cascading down your face smudging your mascara. Your reaction has you missing the wide-eyed look of amazement Suguru gives you utterly entranced by the way your entire body quivered from just a solid tap to the gland.

Suguru had expected an intense reaction. He’d seen and read about how temporary control of muscles and spasms were common when abusing this spot in women. But the one thing textbooks, articles, nor porn could prepare him for was how fucking sexy you’d be while he was doing it.

The ache in his pants has him groaning as he has to lean nearly his entire weight into you in order to get your lower half to settle back down on the desk. Pausing his movements inside of you, Suguru allows you to catch your breath.

Still the heavy pad of his finger is weighing down on you with enough force you still need to suck in your breaths, barely able to squeak out words.

“W-Wh-What is th-that S-Suguuu?!”

Suguru tells you not to worry about the actual name. It’s not very sexy, so you won’t remember it and it’s important that you do, so eventually he tells you to just call it the g-spot.

You groan at the loss of pressure on your g-spot when Suguru removes himself from you entirely in order to bring the finger that had been inside you to his lips. Watching him savoring the essence of your sweet cunt on his tongue, you couldn’t take any longer, finding your voice.

“Su-Surugu, N-Need–N-need more. P—please!”

Suguru obliges, slapping the fat of your ass teetering off the desk and lifts you as his knee slides under your hip. Leaning into you further, Suguru throws one of your shapely legs over his shoulder.

“Oh, you found your voice Bunny? Then tell me what my patient wants. Where does Doctor Geto need to touch you?”

“M-my pussy– fuck– p-please Sugu, wanna feel good there. She’ll be so good for you!”

Suguru’s pleased smile is your only warning before two of his large fingers plunge-in and bottom out inside your cunt, knocking against your cervix. Your jaw completely slacks as you groan at the sudden intrusion, allowing Suguru the perfect invitation to your mouth.

Wasting no time, Suguru crashes his lips into yours. The kiss is sloppy, hot and needy as any cries that attempted to leave you were drowned out in the wet cavern of Suguru’s mouth.

Fuck, you’re greedy as hell.

The kiss makes Suguru’s head spin and he loses himself in your sinful hunger as you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to dominate the kiss, sucking on his tongue. Soon Suguru finds himself groaning against your lips and slowly rocking his cock into the back of your thigh. Fuck, your body was too responsive, too eager for him to slut you out on his fingers.

Suguru couldn’t lose sight of the goal though, you needed to squirt so he needed to take back control.

Catching you off guard, he bullies a third finger– his ring finger, into your cunt as well. Breathless you break the kiss, your eyes sinking back into your head as you meet the thrusts of his fingers with the roll of your hips.

You aren’t able to control the way your body convulses as you writhe against Suguru. His massive body weighed over you as his hair fell in front of his face, hiding his crazed expression from you.

Suguru is also panting as he vigorously pumps the appendages into you. In and out, swirling them Suguru’s fingers take special care to zigzag sweet torment over your g-spot.

You’ve only felt the slight ghostings of this feeling before, nothing so pointed and focused on attacking this spot, while stretching your pussy so well in the process. You want– no need, to feel Suguru’s cock inside you next.

You could tell he must be huge. Heat was radiating off his girthy bulge as it twitched up against your ass cheek even through Suguru’s joggers. The thought causes the hot iron coil in your stomach to tense to its breaking point, begging for release.

Suguru notices.

“A-Are you gonna squirt for me, Y/N?”

For the first time his own voice is ragged, set on keeping his promise to you.

“S-Sugu, I-I– I want to but I–”

Your words catch in your throat as tears that are salty to the taste freely flow past your lips down your chin. You are unsure of what exactly to beg Suguru for even if you could do more than unintelligible babbles at the moment.

It’s coming– you panic— this feeling!

“W-w-ait! Nooo, S–Su–Sugu… I’m g-gonna pee. S-stop, p-puhleaseee!

Your hands slip against Suguru’s shoulders as you try in vain to push him away. So fearful that Suguru was wrong and you may actually piss all over him and his desk.

Suguru isn’t having it though, backhanding your clit with a harsh smack, his knuckle bullying into your bud.

The slap was followed by two more in quick succession, his other hand never slowing inside of you. Disregarding your pleas Suguru ventures even deeper into your guts while pressing down on your lower belly.

“I told you it’s not pee, Bunny. You don’t listen very well, do you?”

Suguru hiss at you, the stress of holding himself back as you fall apart on his fingers was nearly too much, he needed you to lay back, be good for him and take it.

“I-I’m s-sowy, Dr. Geto but– I– wanna–.”

You sniffle back more tears, which has Suguru calming himself in order to soothe you again.

“Shh Bunny, it’s okay– now ask your doctor nicely for what you need. Go on.”

At this point cuming, squirting, whatever Suguru you requires of you in order to release the feral sensations building within you is an essential need to live as much as taking your next breath.

“Doctor Geto, please let me cum! Sugu please! G-gonna s-squirt, gonna squirt s-so g-good for you!!”

“That’s right baby you will… Now squirt on me Bunny, make a pretty mess all over my fucking fingers.”

Timing a particularly hard jolt to your g-spot with simultaneous pressure from over your belly, has you tipping over the edge. Back arching you feel the gratifying release as you squirt hard, fluids spurting all over Suguru’s fingers and spilling down his forearms. The saccharine pleasure of it all is buzzing throughout every cell in your body as your eyes flutter back into your skull.

Your entire body feels like an extension of your pussy, pulsing in tune with your cunt and you don’t realize you are even screaming until Suguru’s mouth is on top of yours once again.

Suguru is tongue fucking your wails all the way back into the depths of your throat until they are mere raspy gurgles.

Riding out your orgasm you protest with choked cries as Suguru's hand abruptly leaves your cunt. Yet before you can process what’s happening you’re mewling loudly again once you feel his lips attacking your cunt. Sucking your clit between his lips, his own groans vibrate into your core making you all the more sensitive.

Your hands fly to him again, tangling up in his long raven locks and trying to push his head away.

Too much! You were far too sensitive right now for him to be lapping at your over stimmed cunt like a mad man.

“Stawwp–”

Your slurs fall on deaf ears as Suguru continues, only pulling back briefly to shush you.

“Haven’t got it all out. This pretty pussy is so fucking nasty she can give a little more, can’t you baby? I know she can.”

Suguru is speaking to you but he sounds a million miles away, focused only on your cunt as he returns to suckling on your clit, his teeth scraping lightly. He knows your pussy will give him the answer he is looking for soon enough.

The iron grip his arms have around your thighs holds you down allowing Suguru unimpeded access to dribble globs of his spit into your folds. His tongue flattens over your clit and his eyes smolder into yours before diving back into your pussy.

So close to cumming yet again your thick thighs clench around him as you unintentionally smother his face deeper into your core. Suguru ignores any need to take breaths, your cunt being the only sustenance needed as he rams his tongue further into your convulsing hole.

Shaking his head around sloppily, Suguru is goading your cunt into giving him more and more. His tongue is a mere worshiper in the temple between your thighs, begging your leaking pussy to give him the last morsels of your squirt.

Not having the willpower to deny him, your pussy gushes out more onto his tongue and shamelessly he swallows all of it as you cum all over again.

By the time Suguru detaches himself from your cunt he looks almost as wrecked as you: hair is matting to the sides of his face, his glasses are clouded with slick and your juices are dripping down his chin.

Although, now that Suguru has had a taste of you he is left craving more. Not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste Suguru is ferally slurping the drippings off your thighs and lowering his head to even zamboni the overflow of your essence off the desk beneath you. Ravenous with thirst for you Suguru is even using his mouth to squeeze out any droplets he could retrieve from your soaked cheer panties.

You on the other hand could only heave as you gasped for breath. Your legs are still twitching in the after shock of your intense orgasm and squirt session. Dizzy and dazed you feel yourself fading out, unsure of how much time has passed or what Suguru was still doing between your legs until the familiar ring of your phone slowly guides you back into the present.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand Suguru stands up and pulls your phone out of his pocket.

The phone is still ringing as he looks down at it and snickers.

“It’s Toru, Y/N. Answer it.”

You give Suguru a frowny pout. You were barely conscious right now, you couldn't handle a drunkenly energetic Satoru.

Seeing you making no attempts to move, Suguru answers it for you and Satoru’s voice overflows through the speakerphone.

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are ya at!? We need the beer pong queen to make her appearance, I need a partner! Nanamin is too good to beat without you!”

Suguru held the phone out to you but you could respond in labored puffs.

“Y/N is taking a study break, a bit tired after her lesson.”

“–Oh it's you Suguru!”

You end up tuning Satoru out as he’s begging Suguru to come to the party with you which you already knew wasn’t going to happen even if he didn’t just make you squirt all over him.

Willing yourself to sit up, your body is immediately revitalized when your eye is drawn to how bricked Suguru currently is in his dark gray sweats.

Suguru arches his brow in amusement as you pull him forward by the band of his joggers. You hurriedly fumble to untie them, pushing them and his boxers down to reveal his hard cock.

The sight of it nearly has you squeeing.

You practically have hearts in your eyes as you gawk at Suguru’s cock, it’s the prettiest you’ve ever seen. The way his girth swayed in front of you as pre marbles on the tip has you openly salivating. To say his length and thickness is above average, was a massive understatement.

You can’t estimate a size but you know he is huge as you eye the a large vein on the underside of his cock that seemed to weigh him down even though fully erect. You squirmed at the thought of that vein scraping inside your pussy as Suguru pounded you.

You need to feel it. Now.

Nevertheless, it isn’t until Suguru snaps his fingers in front of your face did you realize Gojo was now addressing you again through the phone.

“Y/N! You there?! I failed with Sugu! He’s lame! But you’ll be here soon right???”

A sharp contrast to just 30 mins earlier but partying was the last thing on your mind now. You needed to get Satoru off the phone and Suguru’s cock inside you expeditiously.

“Mhm-nh, Toru sorry, I–I really need to get a good grade. I need Sugu to tutor me a bit more. C-Can’t afford to flunk out!”

Although you had teased Suguru earlier about popping his cherry, you didn’t care if he was a virgin now. He had more than proved himself despite his lack of hands-on sexual experience.

You weren’t really paying attention to Satoru any longer as Suguru motions for you to lay back again. Readily, you get in position returning your legs to a stirrup pose.

Suguru rewards your obedience with his cock slapping against your clit.

“Mmmm…FUHH-CK-AH!”

You don’t care that Satoru is still on the line as Suguru is slipping his cock under your cheer panties, rubbing his fat tip along your folds. His cock sandwiched between your messy cunt and the soaked fabric has Suguru groaning at the crazy sensation, he could bust like this for sure.

“Huh? Oh.. OHHHHHH! Haha, I see, I see! Suguru’s lessons are the best, aren’t they Y/N?”

You’re openly moaning now. Barely registering Toru’s words as Suguru grunts, increasing the pace he’s bullying his cockhead across your clit.

“Y-yeah, the besssst-ahhh!”

Satoru, feeling more than a bit left out, starts pouting over the phone.

“Hey, no fair playing with Bunny without me Sugu! Let me join ne–”

Suguru abruptly cuts Satoru’s complaints short, hanging up on him while still rutting his tip over your pussy. His pre leaking out in globs and mixing with your own cum still dripping from you.

He wanted you all to himself, for now at least.

Satoru could fuck off.

“Gawwd Sugu–just fuck m–”

You abruptly stop as your face falls in realization when you feel his warm cum pour over your mound and into your cheer panties.

Suguru is spilling so much of his thick load into you it's even coming out the sides of your cheer panties and running down into the crack of your ass. A few more jerks of his cock through your folds and he is quickly pulling back to tuck his softening length back into his sweats.

“N-no,no no no S-Sugu! Suguru! I-t’s okay you came fast but please— fuck me. I’ll even let you raw me and cum inside puhleaseeee Sugu– need to squirt again all over your cock!”

You don’t know the kind of willpower it takes Suguru to refuse you.

Probably one of the hardest things he’s done in his life, especially as fresh tears trickle from your eyes and he knows you’d be crying just as adorably on his cock. You were too sexy, too perfect and he wanted to fuck you just as badly as he knew you wanted him to.

BUT– more importantly he wanted to enjoy you more than for a quick fuck and if he indulged you now, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be relentlessly tearing up your sweet slutty pussy all night.

If you didn’t start studying for real you were definitely going to get kicked out of school and he can’t have that, especially not now after this.

Masking his own lust with a stern instructor voice Suguru chastises you as he ties his hair back onto a bun and begins to give his glasses a proper cleaning before adjusting the books and papers on his desks around you back into their correct piles.

“Absolutely out of the question. Now be a good girl and pull up your panties, Y/N. We have a lot of ground to cover tonight.”

Sticky with Suguru’s cum, frustrated and still horny you groaned loudly but obeyed. You knew Suguru meant business.

You hoped if you listened to him well enough you’d get what you wanted by the end of the night. It would suck for you to suffer through studying but it was the best motivation you had in literal years.

Unfortunately for you, Suguru, focused on the bigger picture, had a larger goal in mind.

“Only smart sluts get dick, Bunny. You’d better get an A on that exam Monday if you really want this cock.”

a/n: I would be willing to write a part 2 (some time in the future) of y/n popping Sugu cherry or even y/n getting double teamed by 'The Boom Bros' as a 'thank you' for taking the fall for them if there was interest. I'm kind of fond of this little college AU.

Reblog for an anatomy lesson from Nerd!Geto but likes and comments are also appreciated as always!

NEXT is back to my own ficcys! Upcoming: The Nursery - Yakuza!Toji x Y/N - teaser/taglist: ╰┈➤here. Delays cause I've been without my adhd meds and getting the first part of the fic beta'd for once but I FINALLY got them today and was able to finish this fic so hopefully I can get back on track! send me good vibes y'all!

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