#rated m fanfiction

[thesweetnessofspring]

A little different version of "so after" and loosely inspired by Far From the Madding Crowd. Rated M and bordering E because..."so after."

Peeta's scarred hands work in the fireplace, arranging everything for the fire. First he situates the New Year log, taken from an oak tree in the woods, in the grate and places the kindling of pine needles on top. Peeta guides he singular flame of the match onto the kindling and it catches. I lean against the armrest of the couch, watching his lips pucker as he blows on the fire. Some of my own fire, left to nothing but embers, burns low and pleasant at the thought of the way those lips press to my forehead and cheek after a nightmare. And leads me to think of the night on a beach. As the fire in the hearth builds, the orange glow shadows his face, his hair appears golden with the light.

The fire reaches a steady crackle, lighting the room with its promise of a new year bringing better days. It's been just over a year since Prim's death and those days I was lost in my grief. And yet, ever so slowly, good has come. I make it a game, thinking of the good things that have happened this past year. Most are from Peeta, who first coaxed me from my empty days into the spring air and reminded me how flowers still grow.

I wait for Peeta to join me, so that I can burrow myself in his arms, my ear over his heartbeat. Yet he stays where he is, sitting back on his heels and staring at the fire. If his hands weren't flat against his thighs, I might suspect he was having a flashback, he's so far away from me.

"Peeta?" I ask. "Come sit by me."

He still stares at the fire, not moving toward me. "Does it bother you what people are saying about us?"

"What's that?" I ask. I hadn't noticed much. But then again, I don't bother with most people these days. Peeta doesn't, either, though he will go on walks and pass by the market that's popped up during the rebuild. He hears more than I do.

"That we're living as husband and wife," Peeta says. He turns his head to peek over at me, half of his face shadowed and cautious.

"I suppose we are. In our way."

We've shared our meals, kept each other company, and held hands since he came back. When I couldn't take sleeping alone anymore, I went into Peeta's bed. I'm surprised by how comfortable it feels to admit that what we have is almost like a marriage. Not since before my father's death have I ever thought I might be someone's wife.

"They don't mean it like that," Peeta says. "They're saying I'm taking your milk without paying for the goat."

It was an old saying, talked about with judging looks. The man for taking advantage of a woman without ensuring her proper legal protection. The woman for running the risk of having a fatherless child. When he found out Peeta and I were sharing a bed again, Dr. Aurelius encouraged me to take birth control and I could think of no reason to object. So even if Peeta were taking my milk as they say, it couldn't hurt me. Not in the way I worried about so much before.

I still flush at the thought of it, of the two of us naked and touching each other, of his lips on mine and his hands on my body. I clench my legs together at the thought.

"That's stupid," I say.

Peeta's cheeks turn dark in the firelight and he avoids looking at me. "I'm only saying what everyone else says. And of course, the idea of us—like that—it's stupid."

"I said they're stupid," I say. "Not us—"

I fluster and can't say the words. Only there's the thought again, the thought of olive skin to pink skin, scar to scar, and him inside of me, all over me. Tasting him again. Would he taste the same? Or sweeter this time, after so much bitterness?

"Not us what, Katniss?" Peeta asks quietly.

Our eyes connect and there's something burning brightly inside of me. Life. A warmth that I'd thought had long been extinguished, and yet persists despite all we've lost. What he means to me, the safety and goodness he brings to me, had never gone away. It only waited for this moment, when everything was right.

I slide from the couch and crawl to him on the floor. When I sit by his side, my back to the fire, it's just how it was at the beach. Only he hasn't even touched me yet and I'm craving him. So I lean in and kiss him, soft at first, as we brush off the last dust of distance between us, and then the kiss grows deeper and slows so we can savor it. Although I've kissed Peeta a thousand times before, and a couple made me want more, this feels like the first time. It's certainly the first time we've been able to kiss like this all on our own with no one watching. I want more, and he must, too, because our kisses build to crushing, breathless events.

At some point, I swing one leg around him so I'm on his lap and his hands are at the small of my back and I want, I need his skin on mine. So I break our kiss to pull my shirt over my head and then reach for his, too.

Once we're both topless, I cup his cheek to draw him into another kiss. His bare hand rests on my waist, then travels up to my breast. I tremble from the intensity of the feel of him there, of the way I need him more. My body seeks it, pressing down on his lap and finding him seeking me, too.

It's not enough. As much as I know we're on the right track, it's as if I'm smelling the food instead of tasting it. The motions only make me want more.

Peeta pulls back for a moment only to flip us so that I'm on my back parallel to the fire and he hovers over me, elbows holding him up. His curls cascade around his face as he peers down at me.

"Don't stop," I tell him, missing the contact more than anything.

The flames catch his eyes and he kisses all over my face and down my neck, my chest, my arms, my stomach and taking extra time where the scars run deepest, his tongue running along them. At my belly button he looks up at me and I hurriedly lift my hips up to slide off my pants. He moves back up to kiss me on the mouth, but I'm more aware of his hands gently tracing my underwear. I open my legs to his touch.

"This okay?" he asks, uncertainty in his words.

"Yes," I assure him and he moves more confidently in rubbing me over my underwear. It doesn't have that same spark as when I was on top of him, but I do like him touching me there. Then there's a place he finds and I jerk with a sharp pleasure and give a little cry.

"Right there?" he asks, going over the spot again.

"Yes!"

He swipes up and down and I whimper, biting my lip. Still, I need more. I put my hand on top of his and guide him beneath my underwear. When his fingers find my bare flesh over that spot, my whole body blazes with heat and I move my hips against his hand. Peeta's free hand cups himself, squeezing over his pants, his body shaking now. He's holding back, keeping himself hidden from me, as if we were still those kids in the arena. Me squeamish at the idea of seeing him completely naked, and him waiting for me to let him in, even though our lives depended on it. But we're not as we were before in the arena. The most obvious sign now is that I want to feel him, too.

I grab hold of him over his pants and for a second he falters where he rubs me, giving a short curse. That reaction makes me more responsive in turn. I lift my head up to kiss him and then make for his pants, first unbuttoning and then tugging them and his underwear down.

While Peeta untangles his bottoms from his prosthetic leg, I peel my damp underwear off and then we're naked together, both of us pausing to look from the other's bodies to making eye contact and swiftly looking away again. It hits us both what we're about to do, what we could do.

"We don't have to go further unless you're sure," Peeta says.

He's right. I know we could keep going the way that we have, with our easy routine and companionship for the rest of our lives. Neither of us will abandon the other. If we were going to, it would have happened long ago. Yet, even if we don't do this tonight, it's obvious we will in time. I don't think there is a single thing in the past that could have changed us coming to this point eventually.

"Come here," I say.

Peeta doesn't need telling twice. We take our time exploring each other, asking questions, trying things out. I almost feel foolish how little I know about my own body while Peeta gives more to guide me on, though he says he doesn't mind experimenting. Some things feel wonderful, others are just nice because Peeta is touching me. He takes it all in until he has me soaring from his caresses.

After Peeta asks if it's what I want and I confirm it, finally, we're joined. I'm breathless for a moment and there is a tightness that's uncomfortable at first, until I adjust to him. Peeta hovers above me, staying still, watching my face. When I make eye contact with him and nod, he begins to move. Our communication then is through our sounds of delight, quick kisses, the tilt of our bodies, quick affirmations, a cry of the other's name.

The fire dances beside us when Peeta brings a blanket over our naked skin and I'm in a haze of blissful sleep, making a pillow of his chest.

"Katniss?" he asks.

I hum to let him know I'm listening, so warm and happy the next words, said as soft and low as a baby bird's downy feather, take me by surprise.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

The question I've asked since after the berries myself, always in a muddle of confusion, comes to light like a spring morning. There is now, and for always, only one answer to give.

"Real."

[ladynoirfanao3]

Finally getting this on tumblr! Commissioned art by @_mazelwi_ on instagram from a scene in my first completed fic “The Power of Creation.”

Rated M, see the summary below. Also feel free to check out “Power of Destruction” which is from Adrien’s POV instead of Marinette’s

~~

Everyone knows that Ladybug's cure fixes everything after the destruction wrought by Shadow Moth's akumatized villains. After an akuma with an unfortunate power leaves Ladybug and Adrien in an awkward position, Marinette has never been happier to simply forget. However, she soon discovers that her miraculous ladybugs have a limitation on their curing ability: a limitation that puts her in a situation she never expected to be in.

[vegeta-bananabluish]

Future Vegeta

@ginrastandsby made this ridiculously beautiful and mouthwatering Vegeta for my triple VegeBul fic As if you weren't dead. Everytime I look at him my brain be dumb <3 Look at all those magificant details! Thank you so much Ginra <3 Summary: In an alternate timeline, Future Vegeta stands as the lone survivor, constantly hunted by the Androids. Desperate to escape his personal hell and confront his inner demons, Vegeta traverses through various timelines of DB grappling with the profound loss of Bulma and their infant son. Future Vegeta x Future Bulma Maintimeline Vegeta x Maintimeline Bulma Teen Vegeta x Teen Bulma

[evanbuckleyrecs]

Buddie AUs over 20k

To catch up on recommending fics in my bookmarks, I'll also try to make some lists instead of posting one fic per post. Though some fics might also still get their own posts even while added in a list.

To start, here are some finished Buddie AUs with more than 20k words

(I made this list in March so it doesn't have any newer fics. Soon I want to spend a day dedicated to catching up to new fics and adding posts to my queue here)

what if you're someone I just want around by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie

20k, Rated T

"Eddie pauses in his typing, glancing at Buck and trying to figure him out. He seems so eager to help and to please, so willing to take some of the burden in order to make others happy. It’s the sort of presence that Eddie’s been craving in his life. One that he’s missed since Shannon’s fatal accident. And he’s incredibly handsome. He’s got conventional good looks and a beautiful smile, but that pink little splotch above his eye, which Eddie guesses is a birthmark, is really what brings it home."

Or, Eddie Diaz is a successful boxer who's been making a big name for himself in recent years. Buck is a fan, but he certainly never expected to end up at Eddie's house after the man calls 9-1-1 when his son gets sick.

I love the way you spoil me, baby by rosebuddiekin

33,8K, rated E

“I, uh, I was actually at that coffee shop to meet with someone else. You see, for the past few years, I’ve been a sugar daddy on a site that connects people looking for similar things. I was supposed to meet with a prospective baby that day, but then I saw you. And I felt drawn to you, so I messaged the guy I was supposed to be seeing and told him I had to cancel. I just, I thought you should know. That I should be upfront about it from the start.”

Eddie’s fork drops to his plate, making a small clatter. He can feel that his mouth is agape. He’s very glad he hadn’t taken another bite or sip of anything while Buck spoke. Because what the actual fuck? Buck… is a sugar daddy.

OR: Buck is a sugar daddy who wants to spoil Eddie rotten and take care of everything for him. Eddie has never had that sort of relationship but is willing to give it a try. There is plenty of adventure along the way.

Sunny skies & summer high by prettyboybuckley

Sequel to a one shot, 43,8K, rated E


"Well, I kind of want to kiss you right now but that's usually something that happens at the end of a first date, right?" Buck asks, doing a weird movement with his eyebrows in an attempt to be funny.

Eddie chuckles, wrinkling his nose a little.

"I guess, yeah," he mutters. "Think we're doing this a little backward already anyway, so are there any rules to follow?"

He's got a point there, and even then Buck has never really been the kind of guy who follows rules, so he ends up leaning over the center console as he uses one hand to pull Eddie's face towards him. It's a short kiss, a simple peck hello that Eddie chases after when Buck pulls away again.

OR: Buck and Eddie sneak around behind Eddie’s family’s back, spend the summer together, smoke a lot of weed, and fall in love along the way

Kiss me before It's over (if only for a minute) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog

54,2K, Rated E

Evan Buckley is living out his childhood dream as the star hitter for the Philadelphia Phillies. He’s climbing the ranks, improving his stats with every single game – he’s unstoppable.

That is, until the Los Angeles Angels get a new pitcher seemingly out of nowhere. Known for his strong arm and tricky curve balls, Eddie Diaz is one of the few pitchers in the nation who consistently makes Buck strike out, and its infuriating. Even from the sixty feet that separate them between the batter’s box and the pitcher’s mound, the weight of Diaz’s gaze is enough to make Buck’s blood boil.

Because Buck doesn’t get nervous on game day, he never feels calmer than when he steps up to the plate with the bat in his hand – it’s where he belongs. But when he sees Eddie Diaz standing on that mound, his stomach flips and nerves spark across his skin.

Because if there is one thing Buck knows for sure, it is that he hates Eddie Diaz.

… Until he doesn’t.

Traded by princessfbi

23,7K, rated M

Really, it was Lena’s fault. She’d been the one to demand a video when Eddie had finally caved and sent an SOS to the group chat asking if anyone was willing to trade.

“Is anyone interested in trading jerseys with me? Preferably for a smaller size,” Eddie had said because knowing his coworkers, one of them would’ve been a smart ass and gave him an even bigger size. “I ordered an XL because I’m usually a XL but… the way it fits makes me look like I’m fucking one of the players.”

Eddie wasn't trying to go viral. He just wanted to trade his jersey. But then something called Booktok got involved.

Bartender!Eddie Diaz x Hockey Player!Evan Buckley

Snowed Inn by brewrosemilk

31,1K, rated M

Rivaling for a promotion, journalists Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz get sent to a small town where they are each to write a piece on a once illustrious inn and its rich history. For two talented and overconfident authors, it sounds like an easy assignment - but in between a violent snowstorm, blocked roads, heated stares, and a struggling inn, Buck and Eddie may just have to abandon their rivalry and accept each other as partners.

Don't play games (come my way) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

43,1K, Rated E

Buck hates Eddie Diaz.

Ever since his publishing company and Eddie's merged, the man has been nothing but a pain in Buck's ass. The way he nitpicks all of Buck's company emails, the way he spends half his day bickering with Buck, the way he makes Buck's stomach flip and the way he's started haunting Buck's dreams... yeah, it's one hundred percent hate. Definitely. Buck's sure of it.

Because what the hell else could it be?

Falling slowly; sing your melody (I'll sing it loud) by princessfbi

55,3K, Rated E

Buck didn’t like him at first.

Eddie Diaz was all hard lines and strict rules with a bone structure that could cut through glass and scared away his fans. Which... if you asked Bobby, was the point but still!

He also yelled at Buck which was fine. It’s not like it hurt his feelings.

It didn’t.

It didn’t, Maddie!

It also definitely didn’t turn Buck on either. Nope.

Stop it, Maddie!

After a traumatizing home invasion, Bobby Nash decides to hire a bodyguard for his lead singer.

Musician!Buck Bodyguard!Eddie

More fics to be recommended soon!

[tervaneula]

Guess who has yet another new WIP!!!!!! Yes it me. Anyway. Communication my beloved<3

[ineffableclassics]

It was a truth universally acknowledged that an angel in possession of no memory must be in want of a wife.

No, that was the wrong book. The wrong line. Aziraphale frowned.

“What,” the gentleman before him asked, “and I mean what, are you doing here?”

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

Or, two years after things fall apart, Aziraphale shows up at Crowley's doorstep without his memories. The easy part is getting it back, the hard part is getting them back together.

Words: 23,232

Status: Complete

Rating: Mature

By @astrhae

[lockwood-fic-recs]

standing in your cardigan

by ScarletSlippers on ao3

Rating: G | Category: F/M | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy

George shrugs, already heading back to his book. “No idea. I am however, as a result, an excellent knitter. It's rather methodical, really. Soothing, even.”

“So will you help me?”

He looks back up at her slowly, and takes a prolonged sip of his tea, pretending he doesn’t understand. “I failed to hear a clarification in your question. What exactly do you need help with?”

“I need you to teach me to knit.”

Lucy knits Lockwood a jumper.

[alectoperdita]

A little late for WIP Wednesday but what is time but an illusion?

Anyway I began messing around with a possible third chapter for Meeting upon the threshold since I was talking about where Kaiba goes from there and ended up with this. Not sure if I'm gonna keep it or what.

Some smut under the cut but it's pretty mild.

---

Plumes of smoke curled toward the heavens, ethereal hands grasping and plucking at the stars in the night sky. They wreathed a head of canary yellow, a lover's fingers combing through the mussed strands.

Kaiba was not this man's lover. He was most definitely not his friend. If they were lucky, they'd be no more than ships passing in the night.

Yet when the thin sheet draped across Jounouchi's shoulders slipped, unveiling tan skin sheened by moonlight and freckled with constellations, Kaiba fitted himself against the broad back and clasped the nape of his neck. Beneath his palm, skin contracted, muscles flexed as Jounouchi inhaled, then exhaled more smoke.

Up close, the acrid smell slithered up Kaiba's nostrils and settled in his sinuses. His discarded clothes already stank of smoke and charcoal. The last thing he needed was to take more reminders of Jounouchi with him when he left.

"Smoking's a disgusting habit. Good manners dictate you shouldn't do it around guests." Instinctively, his hand squeezed. Not enough to hurt, but it made its presence known.

Craning his head back to meet Kaiba's eye, Jounouchi took another hit, cheeks hollowing. His eyes glittered bright with a challenge in the darkness. "Bite me. You ain't no guest of mine. I didn't invite you to come in."

But Jounouchi had. He was the one who suggested they went upstairs. He was the one who went down and sucked Kaiba's cock without prompting. Much as he currently suckled on his cancer stick.

Kaiba opened his mouth to argue but found himself sinking his teeth into Jounouchi's trembling shoulder instead. For a beat, salt was what he tasted. If he bit harder, he was sure he'd draw out an iron flavor, much like the chicken hearts Jounouchi served to him downstairs.

The rest of him sank into Jounouchi, too, hard cock buried inside his tight heat once more. No condom, merely skin against skin. Kaiba's claws dug into the windowsill for leverage, while Jounouchi's nails scored the back of his hand.

Jounouchi's head lolled forward, a pretty crown of teeth mark astride his shoulder and half-hanging out the open window overlooking the sleepy street below, as Kaiba thrust. When he moaned, low and quiet, he expelled puffs of smoke from his flared nostrils, his open mouth as if he nursed a live furnace inside himself.

With a firm yank, he pulled Jounouchi's head backwards and claimed his mouth. Kaiba would draw out the fire from his ribcage and swallow it. Devour it. Let it light and fuel the cold, neglected hearth within his chest.

"Kaiba," Jounouchi gasped, arching into him.

The blanket fell away completely. Their bare skin pressed together, dotted with sweat. Funny, Kaiba didn't remember taking off the rest of his clothing. He didn't remember Jounouchi getting naked enough in the first place to warrant the modesty afforded by that thin blanket.

Moonlight cascaded over the sinuous curve of Jounouchi's puffed out chest, highlighting his stiff brown nipples. Silver pulsed between his breastbones as if some holy inner light leaked from him. But it was merely Jounouchi's necklace catching the light.

For a heart-stopping moment, he mistook it for a ring, another man's gift of devotion. But the metallic clink sounded cheap. They were Jounouchi's dog tags, the same ratty ones he wore through high school, beating against his chest.

Kaiba fucked him harder. Faster.

Time moved, inextricable, skipping and stopping between each stutter of their hips, each hitch of their breaths.

The night stretched on. It seemed the sun would never rise, so their ships would stay moored to each other's shores. Rocking, swaying in an isolated sea of pleasure.

Maybe Kaiba didn't have to leave. What world existed beyond the warmth of Jounouchi's body and his breathless gasps of ecstasy? They could be a dimension onto themselves, cut off from the rest.

"I'm close. I'm coming," moaned Jounouchi.

Kaiba grunted and closed his hand around Jounouchi's heavy erection. It jumped. Jounouchi clenched so tight, wetting Kaiba's palm with his release. He stroked him through the orgasm, which felt as drawn as long as the neverending night, and at the end of it, Kaiba was there with him, spilling deep into his pliant body.

But the night was over. The scent and weight of Jounouchi faded from his arms, a ghost banished by the sobering day. Kaiba lied alone in his bed in his mansion, curtains drawn and half-erect in his sleeping pants. He resisted the urge to drag a hand over his haggard face or pull the covers over his head. He most definitely wasn't going to touch himself.

Today marked the third day since his ill-advised tryst with Jounouchi Katsuya in his sad, thin futon in his shabby, tiny apartment.

Of course, Kaiba hadn't been back to see him since. Why would he? The experiment was already proven a failure. No matter what his unconscious mind may dream of.

(Jounouchi had, thankfully, not hounded him either.)

Right?

Right.

Just two ships passing in the night. Nothing more.

[trudemaethien]

do more than just stare

written for the Codex Flash Exchange for @whiskygoldwings (Soulmate AU—Eyes) rated M

Summary: When you meet your soulmate’s eyes, one of them becomes yours. Beyond color, this grants glimpses of the other’s vision for each half of the pair. Rex catches sight of something he never knew he was looking for.

read on Ao3 🔒

[qsmpficsarchive]

Watersong by InsomniWillow

9 Chapters | M | 54,365

Selkies | Falling in Love | Hurt/Comfort | Nudity | Sexual Tension

All folktales passed between selkies marked humans out to be liars and deceivers, people who could weave words into something convincing and sweet enough that the selkie wouldn't know it was a trap until their pelt was already taken. And then once the deed was done, they'd forever be trapped in a life away from the ocean, forced to obey their husband-master's every whim as their bride.

Which was part of Missa's justification for even being where he was now- perched behind a rock a little ways from the shore, and keeping a single human in his sights while doing his best to stay hidden.

By far the stupidest thing he'd ever done, had ever continued to do, but he found he couldn't quite help himself.

[gruulsmillionkudos]

When Rome's in Ruins (We are the Lions) by Kedreeva

Words: 209,089 | Chapters: 14/14 | Teen Wolf | Sterek

Humankind has turned arena battles between supernatural creatures into its largest form of entertainment. Stiles Stilinski is a well-known warden who comes to arena-fighter Derek Hale to make him an offer.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Second Chances

Author: fablewriter

Rating: M

Status: Completed in April 2015

Word Count: 120,727

Summary: After a heart-breaking decision, Kurt and his daughter, Tabitha, move back to Lima Ohio to live with his parents. Kurt keeps focus on a future for his daughter, even if that means working in the garage with his father again. But when a friend and customer of Burt's, Blaine Anderson, comes into Kurt's life, Kurt starts to wonder if maybe, just maybe, his family will have a second chance at happiness.

Tropes/Genre: daddy!Kurt, age!gap, badboy!Blaine, AU

Read at: [PDF]

[the-dying-star]

I now have an Archive account

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56410570

Feel free to pop in.

Here's another Tiktok edit of probably the only drawing i did that I like so far 🤣

[beesinspades]

plea for people who have ace headcanons and write those characters as ace "by default" to tag their fics with 'asexual character' even if it's not explicitly or implicitly mentioned so that I can find them without having to go through a hundred fics that hit me in the face with varying degrees of said-characters thirsting over their partner first

for explicit and implicit mentions of your ace headcanons you can use "asexual [character name]" as well. thank you.

signed: me, a tired asexual whose second main reason for not reading many fics is exactly this

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 14

[AO3]

========={·§·}=========

Bruce was going to regret coming to the watchtower today, he could tell. He could already feel the headache coming on.

"Okay, okay, next round! Fuck, marry, kill, billionaires who aren't total assholes! Michael Holt, Simon Stagg, and Bruce Wayne, I'll go first!"

Today's meeting was listed as team bonding. Playing preteen girl games was not what he'd had in mind.

"Oh you know I have to go with fuck Bruce Wayne, I mean, have you seen that man? He makes himbo look hot—"

Dick's not-so-silent laughter from his spot next to Bruce was not helping things in the least. If he didn't love his son as much as he did, and if he wasn't 100% sure Cass and Damian would murder him in his sleep if he did, he would have silenced his oldest one way or another after the third time he nearly fell out of his chair from laughing so hard.

"I'd have to say fuck Holt, marry Wayne, and kill Stagg, Lois would kill me if I said otherwise," Clark answered thoughtfully, though the smirk he was failing to hide bellied his amusement at the entire situation.

I should have kept the lead lining in the cowl, Bruce thought darkly as he fought not to glare at the Man of Steel while Dick finally succeeded in falling off his chair. The rest of the League, sadly, were already used to Nightwing's eccentricities and gamely continued on as they were.

"—marry Bruce Wayne so I can seduce his fortune from him—"

The Dark Knight had to exercise his iron self control to keep himself from groaning out loud at that comment. Please, for the love of Alfred, will someone pick to kill me?

"I honestly can't decide if I'd want to fuck Brucie or marry him more, they both have their advantages—"

Finally, it was his son's turn, and Bruce's dread grew by leaps and bounds. He knew that grin. He knew Dick was a full grown adult, but the urge to ground him had never been so strong and the younger man hadn't even opened his mouth yet.

"For reasons I will not be disclosing at this time but might possibly include the nickname potentials, I would fuck Mike, marry Brucie, and kill Simon. Thank you for coming to my TED talk!"

And then it was his turn. Bruce shot his son a Look, before turning to the rest of the League. Pretty much everyone else had gone already, and the urge to decline participating in this round was strong, very strong, but then Hal Jordan opened his mouth and issued a challenge. And if there was one thing raising so many kids had instilled in him, it was the inability to back down from a challenge.

"So, tall, dark, and scary, what'll it be? Are you going to marry Bruce Wayne so he can fund all of your sick gadgets, seduce his money from him like Plastic Man? Maybe you'll be a gentle lover to him like Aquaman here. Or maybe Brucie is the one person in the world you break your code for. Come on, what d'ya got for us?"

And Bruce—Bruce thinks about it. It's been years since he first joined the League, he's gone on countless missions with these men and women, trusted them to watch his son's back when he couldn't, and he finds his decision already made for him. Plus, there's another thing raising so many kids had given him—comedic timing. Discreetly checking to see if Dick was still recording, even after his mishap with the physics of sitting on a chair properly, Bruce turned to stare the Lantern down.

"Jordan, I have no desire to fuck, marry, or kill Bruce Wayne, either literally or figuratively."

Bruce could see the protests forming at the tip of the pilot's tongue. Clark diligently tried to suppress his own laughter while Dick was staring at Bruce in amazed glee. Before Hal could properly express his protests, Bruce reached up and removed his cowl, working his hand through his sweaty hair in annoyance before turning a deadpan look on the man, one eyebrow raised in a pale imitation of Alfred's Look.

"I trust you can understand why?"

As the collective members of the Justice League burst into shocked screeches of denial and protest, with Clark's warm chuckles and Dick's own roaring laughter acting as counterpoints to the background noise, Bruce couldn't help but smirk. He still felt a headache coming on, now from the noise rather than from the meeting itself, but overall, he can't say he regretted how it had turned out.

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So this one came from a pin I saw on Pinterest, which I sadly have not been able to find the original Tumblr thread for, about the League playing fuck, marry, kill with pre-identity-reveal!Bruce lol I read it out loud to my boyfriend, who ended up laughing as hard as I was, and he told me I should write it, so I did! ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^ If anyone wants to send me a link to the original thread so I can link it here, that'd be amazing, cuz I want to properly credit the people who inspired me to write this in the first place (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Also, I feel like I've been saying this a lot recently, but I apologize for not posting yesterday, I had a really long and fun day out with my boyfriend and ended up having neither the time nor the desire to write anything by the time we got back home ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ before he flew out here, I hadn't seen him in a month, and before that, it had been almost a year, so I'm making the most of the time I have with him (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）I don't think that's too much to ask for, but I also feel horrible about not writing and posting as much as I initially wanted to this month. I figure, by explaining myself to y'all, it might make it easier to convince myself it's truly okay to take time for myself and my boyfriend, y'know? 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠ര⁠ ⁠ʖ̯⁠ ⁠ര⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ that's the hope, anyway lol

Have a good morning/day/night, everyone!

[brightlybound]

Just a little hinny ficlet. You know, if you want to be depressed.

Read below or click the link above!

~*~ (take me back to) Eden ~*~

It was golden in Eden. Sunshine dancing along his skin, her skin, giving and giving; here, take this, you’ll need it for later. Warmth, unimaginable warmth, bubbling in his stomach, catching in his throat, bursting from his mouth as unfiltered laughter, a happiness he'd never felt in his entire life. 

Ginny brightened everything she touched, colored it vividly, work of art and artist all rolled into one. Her fingertips drew into his flesh, light circles, little crescent, abstract strokes that took his breath away, made him transcend time and space, eternal bliss with the lightest graze. He wondered what he looked like, turned towards her, flower to the sun: a new man, a different man, surely, someone he never knew he could be.

Under her instruction, whispering against the shell of his ear, he, too, became master of a certain craft, could make roses blossom in her cheeks, the most radiant red blooming down her neck, across her chest, especially when his fingers delved between the petal-softness between her legs. God, god, how he loved to feel her come apart in his hands, against him, beneath him, above him, however she wanted it. 

He felt sick with the thought that he may never again hold her, caress her, mark her tight curves with his mouth. There was hope, of course, but never guarantee. He'd been lucky there, in Eden, to have such moments of blissful oblivion. With her, only her. Ginny.

A crack of thunder shook his bed frame, and Harry’s eyes shot open to take in the blank canvas of the frigid little tent. In the semi-darkness, the rain made the fabric shudder like crashing waves, stealing him away from the memory of pure ecstasy and suffocating him in gloom.