#so i had to exercise SELF RESTRAINT this time it sucked

[lunar-lair]

SURPRISE

PEEPAW FIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COME GET YOUR FOOD PEEPAW FANS

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46262290/chapters/116469370

right now its just one chapter/leo and casey but theres more written i promise!! just gonna update slowly like a normal person lmao. enjoy the boys for now tho <3

[doumadono]

Douma & period sex - headcanons

Warnings: smut Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

Being with Douma means there are no limits, it means laying all the cards on the table, exposing every secret, confronting the ugly and harsh truth. In his presence, it feels like the world opens up, revealing new possibilities and unexplored territories. With Douma, there is a sense of daring and adventure, a willingness to dive deep into the unknown and embrace the rawness of life ♡

Due to his demonic nature, Douma possesses an exceptional sense of smell, enabling him to accurately detect when you're on your period

Douma has an insatiable desire to create chaos and revels in making messes. He finds pleasure in the sight of blood, whether it's on his own skin or yours. His ultimate satisfaction lies in leaving behind a trail of destruction, where stained and torn sheets serve as evidence of a job well done

In moments when your breasts feel more sensitive or tender, Douma offers gentle relief by softly kneading them for you

On a few occasions, Douma had the experience of possessing you during your period. The heightened wetness and warmth of your pussy seemed to intensify his pleasure, pushing him to the edge faster than ever before

In anticipation of your period, Douma exercises self-restraint by refraining from engaging in sex or masturbation during the preceding week. By doing so, he deliberately builds up desire and eagerly looks forward to indulging himself once your period begins

Douma finds immense pleasure in various aspects of intimacy, including the sensation of your warm walls enveloping his cock. The additional warmth during your period is particularly arousing to him, causing him to shudder with delight each time he fucks you missionary

He humorously compares himself to a tampon 😅

"You feel so fucking incredible, so damn good!" he exclaims, occasionally sinking his teeth into your shoulder, igniting a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain. You find yourself unable to contain your moans, as the sheets bunch up tightly in your hands, your thighs quivering from the powerful rhythm of his thrusts as he takes you doggy style

"Your warmth and tightness drive me insane," Douma grunts, running a hand through your hair before gripping it firmly, pulling it back as he gently bites along your neck. "You're so wet, just look at this beautiful mess," he exclaims, admiring the evidence of your desire and arousal mixed with your period blood dripping down your thighs on the sheets

"Oh, Douma! I'm going to cum!" you moan passionately, your voice echoing through the room as you bury your head into a pillow. "I can't hold on any longer! I wanna cum, baby! Please… Move, for fuck's sake!" you groan, lifting your head to glance back at the towering figure behind you

His hands grip your sides firmly, squeezing your plush flesh, causing him to suck in a sharp breath as he visibly trembles, his chest rising and falling with each movement. "If I move now, I'll reach my climax, and I don't want to do that just yet," he replies, his heated gaze fixed on you, intensifying the sensation as your walls involuntarily tighten around him. "Oh, fuck! There's an incredible amount of blood flowing from your cunt right now!" he exclaims, a hint of excitement in his voice as he withdraws his throbbing cock from your pussy

With a swift movement, he flips you over so that you once again lie on your back, ready for the next phase of your intimate encounter. Douma's tongue delves into your sensitive core, pressing firmly against your walls, while his thumb skillfully rubs circles over your clit - his sole purpose is to bring you pleasure. Douma has a remarkable knack for discovering all the spots on your body that drive you to the brink of madness

You find yourself gripping onto his silver hair again as your hips begin to buck uncontrollably. A whine escapes your lips when he eventually pulls away, leaving you feeling empty and yearning for more. Douma licks his lips and wipes his mouth, cleansing away the traces of your blood

Understanding the need to not keep you waiting, Douma swiftly substitutes his tongue with his throbbing cock, effortlessly sliding it inside you. "Oh, fuck, Y/N. You're dripping wet. My little, fucking lotus!"

Blushing at the sounds his thrusts produce, you raise your hips to meet his movements, biting your lip in a mix of pleasure and anticipation. As you do, you realize that your uterus is beginning to relax, a thought that brings a contented smile to your face

Douma spreads your legs slightly, creating a more comfortable position for smoother entry after he again withdraws. He hooks your legs around his waist, and with deliberate slowness, he pushes his cock inside you

"Fuck!" Douma's breath hitches as he releases himself inside you, panting heavily before collapsing beside you; your mixed cums dripping out of your abused pussy

Your body trembling with pleasure as you cling onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. The pain that once lingered has now completely dissipated, leaving you in a state of blissful satisfaction

[salora-rainriver]

We're talking about Ads Again

Context for those followers of mine who weren't there: I made a post about tumblr ads being weird back in 2016 and it's literally still getting notes to this day. People responded GREAT to it. honestly, despite being like. ass old at this point and written by a literal high schooler, it's still pretty good! I thank my dad being in advertising helped significantly. I had an expert witness.

Tonight, I'm writing the sequel to that post. the sequel is this post.

let's just fucking dive into it or whatever.

why am I doing this?

okay for starters I made that post in goddamn 2016 and I refuse to believe my insights into the marketing world have not improved since then.

Also, the marketing world has CHANGED. Huge swaths of my old post are no longer relevant. What we saw with tumblr ads in 2016 was in some parts a passing fad, and in other parts the harbinger of a new wave of influencer marketing and corporate parasociality (I coined that term just now).

Honestly I've been thinking for a while that I should make an update post, but what with, yanno, adulthood, that's been kinda hard!

Well, I've missed a train, and it's Christmas, so I've finally found the time to do that.

What has Changed?

in my personal life... dad got fired! yeah it fucking sucks. the good news is he and his wife are working towards their retirement now, shifting away from the industry overall. Good news as far as life is concerned, but it does mean I no longer have as clean a connection to the Industry as I used to.

but more importantly, why he got fired. The fact is, dad's old! I know, shocker. More than just being old, though, his field (and my stepmom's field - they both did the same work) represents an older paradigm of advertisement. he did TV spots and posters, not ad reads for Raid Shadow Legends. He was great at his work, but we're in an era of data-driven, maximalist, google adsense, low-barrier-to-entry, super-fast and super-cheap digital advertisement.

Well, more specifically,

We're on the cusp of an extinction event poised to bring said era crashing to the ground.

Pictured: the current vibes in the ad world

Siberia is on Fire and Everything is Dying

So given that my typical source on stuff like this is currently unemployed, I decided to hit good ol google (well, google and duckduckgo. fitting given what we're talking about) to see if I could get any insights into what the current state of advertising is.

and the short of it is that everyone says the end is nigh. check this out:

Digital is dead, and so is TV. God fucking damn. BY THE WAY, I loved these two articles. Chris Gadek, a man I only learned about today, is clearly an excellent writer and his professional insights are probably gonna be way better than my amateur synthesis of the half-dozen different articles I read today, including his.

blatant shilling for random article writers aside, let's get on to my half-baked synthesis, starting with:

What Set Siberia on Fire

In small part, it's the same issues facing most major companies and industries in our late capitalist world: Hubris.

As this New York Times article points out, we've got a low barrier of entry into a gargantuan industry that's increasingly pumping out slop to follow a strategy of 'more is more'. And we've all seen the bizarre mobile game ads and shady scams that have resulted from THAT.

On top of that, we've also got the fucking digital privacy issue shaking up the entire world as consumers increasingly don't like being spied on (imagine that), and the EU starts rolling out heavy restrictions on the data harvesting that was fueling a bunch of this advertisement bubble.

There's also the ad fraud. Oh, you didn't hear about that? Well, it's nothing much, just that lots of bots are clicking ads to falsify click metrics, artificially inflating the effectiveness of said ads. look, it even has a wikipedia article

oh and Facebook did it. Facebook did ad fraud. :)

and I'm not even getting into everything that works to shake up or demolish basically every advertisement channel out there - the decline of cable tv and print newspapers, the increasing use of ad blockers, the crisis of consumer trust, etc etc.

In short we are looking at a multitude of micro-crises all working together to make the environment unlivable for most current forms of advertisement.

in other words: an extinction event!

Who's Gonna Survive

And just like in a real extinction event, whether or not you survive depends on how good you can adapt to the brave new world you've found yourself in. Old school advertising needs to drastically rethink their everything if they're gonna stay afloat, and every field of the industry needs to recreate itself. As my new favorite writer Chris Gadek says,

"These crises show that there are no safe havens. You can’t substitute one advertising medium for another. Rather than pivot, the advertising industry must adapt and learn to effectively use the channels at their disposal (TV included), factoring in the seismic societal and technological changes that have occurred over the past decade and beyond."

and what is that going to look like? what's going to be the new face of advertising?

The field seems torn, at first... but also aligned, at least when it comes to the core principles:

privacy is a big issue. Seems like a lot of advertisers are seeing an end to wanton consumer surveillance, and looking into less invasive ways to gather important and meaningful data

companies that rely on selling ad space and propping up their engagement metrics are going to be relied on less, probably, because the metrics themselves are being seen as less reliable (for good freaking reason)

regaining consumer trust is going to be a massive priority in the future.

overall, we're probably going to look at a massive downturn in ads, as people turn to a quality-over-quantity strategy in an attempt to stop flooding the attention marketplace.

that's the gist I'm getting from reading oh so many different articles of varying quality from so many different sources.

So, yanno, there may be some hope out there. If smart people start leading this industry (lol), we may get to actually enjoy ads.

Yeah. Enjoy ads.

Unironically.

I know, it's crazy.

PS: if you start seeing affiliate links on mainstream TV ads, thank our lord of excellent business analysis Chris Gadek for calling it early. God, that's such a crazy left-field idea and I really want it to actually happen.

[eggluttony]

Eggman wants to keep below the weight limit he sets for himself and knows it's important so he can remain agile enough to work and do his schemes. But I love to imagine that, if it wasn't for his robots helping to keep his diet and weight in check as much as possible and how his hard work keeps him busy and active enough to spend hours without eating at times and help him get at least a decent amount of exercise even when he's not keeping up with workouts- he'd be absolutely massive and morbidly obese.

I like to think he has very little self control and restraint around food on his own even despite his will to not gain too much, though there's often a lot of confliction in him over that too as he hates keeping a stricter diet and harsher exercise routine for it to be effective. The idea of him always being just so close to just slipping and going off the deep end to become a greedy slobby morbidly obese fatass and barely keeping it together without outside help, even despite his desire to not let himself get too fat because he'd find he wouldn't be able to help himself drives me crazy hfjdbdkfksbf 😍

I imagine that before he had any of his assistance robots as he was without any for years in the games, he had all the most unhealthy habits he has now but without any help to keep it controlled. So he'd commonly keep excessively overstocked fridges super close to all his beds and was unable to leave it alone, eating from it constantly day and night whenever he was in there. He'd have late night binges where he'd just almost clear out the entire fridge by gorging on everything in sight and only stopped when he'd pass out in a food coma with a huge overstuffed belly, waking up fatter and fatter all the time.

He eventually noticed he was becoming increasingly greedy, lazy and gluttonous and got a little worried by how addictive it was becoming and how huge he was getting. So when he programmed his first close assistance robot, SA-55, he made him help with dietary and exercising needs but just like how he'd go too extreme on the levels of sass that pissed him off in game, he also used to offend him a lot with his too harsh comments on what he was eating and his weight gain and he was very sensitive towards it. Orbot and Cubot have this coded into them too but to a less harsh degree.

His robots don't always get through to him effectively about his weight with his stubbornness, denial, obliviousness, etc. But they always manage to step in and help him out with diet and exercise in some ways so he doesn't go extremely overboard.

Aside from that, another thing that keeps him from going off the rails is how often he's working. Sometimes he even gets so sucked into prioritizing his work and schemes that he actually goes hours without eating without realizing. All his robots have to do after that is prevent him from heavily binging when he's finally done, which can be hard when he wants a big celebratory meal for his hard work but they often just about manage to control it enough for it to not do too much damage, much to his chagrin.

But when he has too easy of access to food and enough free time left to his own devices, he'll find that he just eats and eats and eats constantly, almost non-stop when it becomes a big binge. Just plate after plate, meal after meal, snack after snack, sometimes mindlessly and uncontrollably. He just loves relaxing with a big heavy stuffed belly proceeding him, rubbing and patting it and feeling it get bigger and firmer as he keeps forcing in more, he can't help but get lost in the pleasure and bliss. But even when his gut is so heavy and swollen full it aches and he's groaning about how it hurts, he'll often still reach for a little more

While he hates having his diet and exercise controlled in any amount by his robots and enjoys his days off of work, it's a good thing his robots are there and he doesn't get too many days off, otherwise he'd be absolutely huge by now hehe. His barely contained gluttony and laziness makes him so easy to be teased for his weight as he becomes a grumpy flustered blushing mess but also so easy to be pinned down and fed as even if he tries to resist, he quickly gives in and moans and sighs at the pleasurable feeling of his fat belly being filled up and expanded and it's too easy for him gain tons of weight

Without the little things holding him back, he'd be and unrestrained huge slobby greedy fatass with how much he loves to eat, no matter how much he tries to resist it and deny it 😍

[1tad0ri]

hiii. can i request a rough nsfw with sukuna where he's so frustrated with jujutsu sorcerers that he decided to unleash those said frustrations on the reader? like he just won't stop until he release all the stress inside him— kshjsch i feel like sukuna would do that 😳 he'll be rough all night long

warning: degradation, choking, breath play, very mild pain kink, hate fucking

ryoumen sukuna x fem!reader

i feel the same way so thank you, i’m going to be thinking about this for a long time

“you know, i really thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

the grip he had on your neck was bruising, but certainly a lot looser than you thought the king of curses would be. your hands clawed at him nonetheless, although the whole current concept of being shoved against the wall of your bedroom wasn’t exactly something you were complaining about.

the three impatient raps at your door earlier had you rolling out of bed, wanting to sleep after your latest mission. you’d thought it was yuuji, hungry for your warmth, but when you unlocked the door, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn, you’d been unceremoniously shoved backwards, the wind knocked out of you when your back met the wall. the glint of tattoos on a familiar face in the moonlight coming from your window told you all you needed to know.

sukuna watched you curiously and then his sickening grin was back, fingers squeezing a little harder. you gasped, stretching your neck away. “what? not going to answer?” he sneered, “maybe you all really are the same. scared little fucking sorcerers.” he leaned closer, breath fanning across your face. “isn’t that fucking stupid? you’re all a bunch of scaredy cats, aren’t you?” he pouted mockingly when he spat out the name. his lips were so close, if you just tilted forward—

no. whatever morbid fascination you harbored towards him didn’t change the fact he was... well... him. you stood your ground, leaning forward to bump your nose against his, your own scowl evident. “you can’t do anything, sukuna. once we find all the—”

“all my fingers you mean? the ones you can’t destroy on your own so you have to come up with some little plan to get rid of me?” he laughed bitterly in your face and you bit your lip, trying to calm your fury before you did something you’d regret. “it’s all the same. you’re scared of me. you don’t have the upperhand. never will,” he whispered at the end.

“i’m not scared of you.” your thoughts tumbled out of your mouth plainly without a second of hesitation, but the tilt of his head in question, his forehead brushing against yours, made you think that perhaps telling the truth around him was a very bad idea.

it was dark, hard to see his face, but god he was so close. “yeah? what are you then?”

good question. wait, no, bad question. bad, very bad, because you already knew the answer to it. or... did you? vocal chords at a stand still, there was no way to verbalize what you felt.

“hurry up, brat.” sukuna tightened his grip on your neck before loosening it just the smallest bit so you could speak. “i don’t have all day. how do you feel then? you with your little human emotions.”

words... what are the words. it turns out staring down a literal demon king in the eyes wasn’t the optimal place to think. “i... i don’t know.” your voice was small, unsure, lying.

the staring contest, backed by deafening silence, continued for a mere beat longer as you regarded each other with quiet contemplation. you could just barely make out his eyes and the curve of his lips, parted slightly. his breath was warm.

you couldn’t take it anymore and it seemed like he couldn’t either—you both automatically tilted your heads, lips pressing against each other easily, eyes falling shut. mouths sliding against the other, he gently pushed your head back to hit the wall, tongues running over one another. it was slow, hot, and you decided you should probably thank yuuji for keeping his lips so soft.

sukuna sucked your bottom lip between his own and your hands fell away from his grip on your neck to pull him closer by the front of his shirt (he hadn’t ripped it apart yet, an impressive feat). his leg slipped between your own, and you pushed down on it with your hips, the friction making you open your mouth further to him, something enticing about the fact he was a very good kisser.

but then it was like a switch flipped and his hold on your neck tightened once again. “what... what am i doing,” you thought he mumbled, voice hoarse (then again, your brain wasn’t exactly listening when you were busy making out with someone like him), kiss faltering for a brief moment. his lips curled into a frown, disdainful.

shoving you further into the wall as he pushed against you with his mouth, sukuna was all sharp teeth and rough lips now, swallowing up your whimpers, nothing soothing about it like his previous actions.

“i fucking hate you,” he spat, his hand abandoned your neck and moved up to squish your cheeks together, finding satisfaction in the way your lips puckering out, barely able to move. “do you hear me? i hate all of you.”

“the feeling’s mutual,” you mumbled around his grip, hazy from the kiss but knowing what you stood for, fury evident in your eyes and furrowed brows. he was the enemy. and you were... you. and... and...

you were met with a bitter laugh, your stomach curling into knots at the sound. you hadn’t noticed his free hand tugging at your waistband until it was too late, his hand slipping in and wasting no time running two fingers harshly against your soaking folds. “why are you dripping wet then? a slut and a liar?”

“fuck off,” you mumbled again, a lot quieter this time, face burning hot from embarrassment.

“i’ll fuck off when you stop acting like you want to fuck me.”

his words made you straightened up. “i- i’m not—”

“you’re not acting? mmm,” sukuna let go of your cheeks just enough that he could properly kiss you, tongue forcing it’s way past your lips, “of course you’re not. of course.” he was mocking you and you couldn’t say anything.

a finger pushed into your heat and you bit down on his lip in surprise, although the pain only seemed to spur him on further, a second finger easily shoving its way in next to the first. curling, pushing, rubbing against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you, sukuna’s fingers had your legs shaking, the knee he still had pressed between them the only thing keeping you up at this rate. the grip on your face as he hummed against your mouth prevented you from avoiding eye contact with him, lips wet as he disregarded any type of mess he was making.

he was everywhere at once and you felt trapped. hot—it was too hot, your body was burning.

“su- ku... n... a,” his name came out garbled between the onslaught of your face being squished together and the sloppy kisses he pressed into you at irregular intervals. when his thumb rubbed against your clit as the two fingers continued to pump in and out, you gripped his shirt so hard you were sure you would rip it this time. “too... mmm,” a kiss that was more tongue than lip cut you off and you weren’t even sure if he heard you as you choked out the next words, “mmm, hah— much, suku—”

at once he released you, almost letting you drop to the floor, but you were able to just barely steady yourself against the wall in time. sukuna stepped back and away from your shaking form. you were gasping, lungs burning.

“w...why did you—”

“i can listen you know.” you could practically feel his eye roll from his dripping tone, even if you weren’t looking at him. “‘too much.’” he laughed as he mocked you. “more like you’re too weak.”

you were thankful he actually seemed to have a brain, but still— “you’re an idiot.” fuck, your lungs hurt, the retort scraping against the walls of them. he was good. it had been a while since anyone had left your head spinning like that.

sukuna flicked a hand dismissively. “‘an idiot’ who’s giving you a chance to breathe, you brat.” he decided to ignore the name for now, thankfully for you (although you didn’t exactly see it that way).

you couldn’t choke out another snarky response and simply focused on clearing your head. he gave you a chance to think and once you seemed clear-minded, he wasted no further time.

“bed.”

you blinked, eyes bleary, peering up at him from where you bent over, trying to catch your breath. “w...what?”

“on the bed. now.” he shoved his hands into his pockets, watching you blankly as you regained your senses. “unless you want me to fuck you on the floor?”

“no...” god, what was with you? or rather... what was with him? the ache in your core answered your question, your cunt feeling so empty now—he hadn’t even bothered to let you cum and you already wanted his fingers stuffed back into you. he was irresistible—you felt stupid even having the thought.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, close to shoving you to the ground to finish what he started but exercising restraint for your sake. you’d need it. “i’m being nice and giving you a chance to get comfortable on your stupid bed, you idiot. go. now.” he was getting tired of repeating himself.

the last few snarky words and your own desire for him actually had you moving this time, climbing up onto the bed a few steps away and settling uncertainly onto the covers. you went to look up for further instructions but he was already on you, both of you tumbling back onto the mattress as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat, hands pushing up and under your shirt to squeeze your tits.

“take this off.”

you automatically pulled at the hem of the flimsy t-shirt at his command, sukuna giving you just enough room to get it over your head, and then his teeth were on your exposed breasts, marking them up. your fingers threaded through his hair, his head moving under your touch as you watched his mouth work with half-lidded eyes.

you didn’t think you’d be able to change in front of anyone any time soon, already knowing the blossoming colors of bruises would be apparent the next morning. reminder to self: cancel your upcoming shopping trip with nobara; the dressing rooms with her would surely be a disaster if he kept this up.

“who’s are these?” his grip was rough when he cupped your breasts, squeezing.

you immediately knew the answer he was looking for, all too eager to hand it over. “yours. fuck, they’re all yours.” your hands ran through his hair, urging him to continue his onslaught on the previously unmarked skin.

sukuna laughed, thumbing your nipples, giving one of them a light lick that made you squirm. “you’re more obedient than i thought you’d be.” he pinched the buds, rolling them between his fingers as you squeezed your eyes closed, gasping at the pain. “but that’s enough of that.” your eyes snapped open, about to ask him what the fuck he meant by that, but he was already setting to work.

his fingers hooked around your sleeping bottoms and pulled them down with your underwear, the night air cold against your damp lips. you rubbed your thighs together but his hands on your knees forced them apart as he peered down at you. you felt so exposed under his hungry gaze, entirely bare for him to see while he was still dressed. unfair.

“wanna see. don’t close them,” was his short, clipped explanation as he kept your legs spread. one hand on your knee, sukuna brought the fingers of his other to run along your folds again just as he had done before, except this time he could actaully see how you quivered under him, cunt glistening and dripping. he slipped two fingers to run between the folds and then popped them in his mouth, sucking the slick from his fingers and maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. you couldn’t look away.

he hummed, content as he licked the last bit off of the tips. “you don’t taste bad for a slut.”

all the focus was on you, him criticizing everything little thing you did, and you were a mess because of it. not even a chance to run your hands over his chest? unacceptable. you pointedly ignored his comment, pining after some form of a reward instead. “at least take your shirt off. thought you hated those things.” the clothing ratio here was starting to grate on your nerves.

sukuna rolled his eyes but crossed his arms over his chest to grab ahold of the sides of his fitted t-shirt and tug it over his head. you watched, mouth watering at the sight—the moon provided excellent illumination for the scene, his body revealed inch by painstaking inch as he disposed of the fabric. god, he was so hot. you hated it.

muscles on display, sukuna raised an eyebrow at you as though he were asking, happy now? your silent reply came when you reached up to run your hands over the dips of his abs, his chest solid and tattoos curling over the surface.

“that’s better.” you made a show of your gaze tracing over the surface before looking up at him, smiling to yourself. “surprised you didn’t just rip it off.”

sukuna simply scoffed and swatted your hand away, moving from between your legs so he could work off his pants and kick them off to the side.

“knew you’d like to see me take it off properly,” he answered at last, back to you as he wiggled out of his boxers finally and chucked them off the foot of the bed. you didn’t get much time to admire his flexing back muscles before he was on you again, settling between your legs like he knew he belonged there (you weren’t sure you could argue with that point).

he pumped his cock, grabbing one of your legs and pushing it back. precum leaked from his tip, length already fully hard, and sukuna was enjoying your gaze on him maybe a little too much. leg shoved back and in the air, you whimpered when he rubbed the head along you. you didn’t need prep after being fucked by his fingers earlier you supposed and you weren’t sure you’d even be patient enough to sit through him stretching you out any further with anything but his dick.

you wanted to feel it yourself and so you reached a hand out to wrap around the base, captivated by how he watched you as you thumbed the slit, breathing heavy but not saying anything, letting you do what you wanted.

you wanted it in you so badly.

when he opened his mouth in question, eyes flitting up to yours, you were quick to cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask. “yes, i’m sure.” you didn’t know curses could actually be compassionate, and it was cute when his jaw locked hard at your confirmation and he nodded, shifting his gaze back to your hand.

you released his cock and sukuna set back to lining it up with you, grip on your leg locking the limb in place. you shivered under his hold and he grunted when the head nudged your entrance, slowly pushing in.

“fuck. take it. take it all in. fucking slut.” he sunk fully in in one motion, the pace enough not to have you screaming out at the stretch but making your breath catch in your throat all the same. “yes, just like that. a good bitch, that’s what you are, aren’t you? look at you.”

you didn’t even know what to think at this point, a shaky resemblance to his name tumbling from you, more so a moan than actual talking. you could feel him everywhere—so full, so overwhelmingly full.

shoving your leg back further until it was almost painful, cock bottomed out in you, sukuna snapped his fingers in front of your face. “i asked you a question, brat. or are you already too fucked out of your mind to answer?”

you couldn’t breathe, head heavy, and tried to nod in confirmation as you struggled to puzzle through his words, but then you shook your head to answer no—god, you were confused. what was the right answer? what was happening?

maybe you really were already too fucked out of your mind. you vaguely recalled his words from earlier and were able to form a somewhat coherent response. “a good bitch... yes, i a- wait.” what were you saying? first you let him fuck you and now you’re openly submitting to him? the curse that had nearly cost you and your friends your lives countless times?

pride wouldn’t let you go along with his little game even as your dripping pussy told a different story. “i’m not anything to you.”

sukuna scoffed, hips grinding into you as he leaned over you, hooking both of your legs over his shoulders and pressing them back, close to your head. “and here i thought we were actually starting to get along.” a mirthless laugh left him, both of you eye-to-eye now where you lay.

fire burning in your eyes, you were very much reminded why you hated him so much. a self-obsessed asshole was what he was. “i’m not exactly looking to be friends with the king of curses, you idiot.”

“but look at you now. you wanted this.” he licked a stripe up the side of your neck, pausing at the base of your jaw to grin and press a sweet kiss to the area. you shivered and your hands found his shoulders to grip onto. he wasn’t wrong about the wanting it part—the amount of times you’d fantasized about exactly this was concerning. “i wonder what would happen if your little friends knew about how you really felt. what’s that term you like to use? ‘fraternizing with the enemy?’”

sukuna laughed again when your expression fell, face hot at the reminder of the others. “i suppose this is considered a bit more than mere fraternizing though, hm?” he continued, smiling and kissing your cheek.

whatever. no one would find out anyway. expect... expect maybe... yuuji—what had happened to him anyway for this to happen? knowing him, he’d probably been too tired after the last mission and sukuna had easily switched in—the same mission that seemed to have set sukuna even further along in his fury against jujutsu sorcerers this night.

you weren’t dating yuuji per say (it was... complicated), so your qualms when it came to fucking the curse possessing him were... minimal to say the least. you wouldn’t have done it if you were already taken, couldn’t have done that to yuuji, sweet as he was. but even in spite of all that, sukuna was right... this whole thing was so... no, don’t think about it.

you didn’t care either way (...maybe)—you couldn’t let his words get to you.

“just move already.”

you heard him grumble, annoyed, and he propped himself up to hover above your face. “i was giving you time to adjust. you’re so ungrateful.”

and with that, sukuna snapped his hips into yours without another moment of hesitation and you dug your nails into his back, mouth open in a silent scream because fuck.

“ungrateful fucking brat.”

“more,” your voice was hoarse, focus narrowing in only on the way he was fucking you.

you weren’t sure if it was your words or his own desire that spurred him on, but he set a bruising pace from the start, the places where your hips met hurting every time he rammed back into you. he was marking up your neck, the area already feeling sensitive and oh-so overabused, yet you not wanting to tell him to stop.

sukuna’s hand wrapped around your neck again, the feeling familiar now and you clenched around him at the sensation, him growling when you did so. the slight squeeze of his fingers had you seeing stars, the light-headed feeling going straight to your building arousal.

just like before, his hand traveled up to squeeze your cheeks and he was hovering over your mouth again, lips brushing against your own from the momentum of his thrusts. “let me kiss you again.” sukuna’s eyes were dark, unreadable.

you were quick to act at that, not letting him lean down, but rather craning your neck up to latch onto him, moaning as your mouth fell open for him to push his tongue in. his hand released your face to travel down to tweak at your nipples and grip your breasts again, other hand holding your leg steady against him. “filthy fucking slut.” he forced the words into your mouth, speaking around your lips that kept chasing after him. “fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

sukuna’s attention returned to your neck, leaving you to gasp into the air and missing his warmth against your face. when his thumb found your clit, your breath hitched and you knew you so close to coming undone. the rubbing of his cock against just the right spots inside of you, filling you so wholly was not helping.

“su...kuna, please, i’m gonna—” you were babbling, chest heavy when his teeth sank into your shoulder, stinging. his wet kiss on the area was cooling, the contrast making your head tilt further back, wanting to give him easy access to whatever he wanted.

“i’ve got you.” he was whispering against the wet skin, voice low with his pants, and you shivered, digging your nails into his back even more. “come on, brat, you want to cum for me, don’t you?” yes, you did. the stretch, his hands everywhere at once, his scraping lips—yes, you wanted to let everything go.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” you let yourself come undone, heat filling your chest. everything was him—that’s all you knew in this state.

“look at you, creaming all over my cock. god, you’re so pretty. pretty little slut.” the words just kept flowing as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own release.

when he finally came, your hole was aching, abused, the sound of skin against skin the only thing you could focus on, mind cloudy. his cum was hot and filling when it spilled into you, your stomach doing summersualts at the feeling. his pace gradually began to slow, the sopping sound of him fucking his cum into you as he rode out his own high the only sound besides your ragged breaths. when he eventually stopped, he was leaning over you, sweaty foreheads pressed together, and he pushed one final bruising kiss to your lips that you gladly returned.

you were panting, chest rising and falling unevenly. “fuck, oh my god.” you reached up pull him back into another kiss, needing something to hold onto. it was an easy kiss, no thought going into its form, just knowing that lips were meant to be on each other and slotted together. his lips were so soft, and his fingers along your side were so soft, and his chest against yours was so soft and you were absolutely lost to everything.

sukuna finally pulled back to let you breath, knowing you were probably stupid enough to just keep pulling him in more and more and ignoring your lung capacity until the very last second unless he stopped you.

chests heaving, you stared at each other and he brought a thumb up to rub at your swollen lips. you flicked your tongue out to lick at the digit playfully and smiled. a laugh bubbled out of you and he returned the grin, his own deep chuckle vibrating through you where you were still pressed against each other.

it was laughing that you moved to push him to roll off of you. “oh my god, i can’t believe we just-” the hand that gripped your wrist, your own hands still planted on his chest, stopped you immediately. his smile had morphed back into one that was anything but sweet.

you were suddenly aware of the ache in your legs where they were still pressed over his shoulders and the dull throbbing of your pussy as it begged for a break, him still not having pulled out—the look on his face told you that you wouldn’t be getting a break from those sensations any time soon.

“who said we’re done?” his teeth glinted in the moonlight and god the line was so cliche and he must’ve known you’d hate it so much. what you hated even more was the throb in your core at his words despite all that. “wanted to cum in you at least once, but your tits-” he paused to squeeze one of them for emphasis, “are looking a little too clean.” body covered in sweat and marks all over your chest from his handiwork made you think clean wasn’t exactly the correct description, although you understood his sentiment.

surprise ridden expression falling away, you rose to meet his challenge, your own grin reflecting back. how would it feel when he came on your stomach, on your face, on your ass—anywhere and everywhere? would it be the same feeling as before when he’d spilled inside of you? (would you get to taste it?)

the thought was horrible, you knew, but the trickle of white out of your hole around his cock and dripping onto the sheets made you think maybe it was okay to be horrible for once.

“do your worst, king.”

[notanotherreidgirl]

I just had an idea based on my recent health experience: What if Spence had to wear a Holter for 24 or 72 hours to measure his heart's activity (maybe as part of the FBIs health checks) ? And he has to take notes of everything he does so that they can match it with the information collected so he cannot have sex or masturbate unless he's willing to justify his increased heart activity to a team of doctors. So, reader being reader, decides to drive him nuts, teasing him again and again because she knows he can't do anything about it. (Does he end up cumming in his pants because he's trying so hard not to touch himself and increase his heart rate?) ☺️🥰

Love ya! Have a great day!

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, edging, blowjob, grinding, coming in pants

Word Count: 1380 (i'm inclined to just call this a full fic)

A/N: First, an apology. This has been in my inbox for quite a while and I am very sorry about the wait. Secondly, I made this entire scenario up after doing some minimal research on Holter monitors so it might not make sense.

Spencer gave Hotch’s door a light tap before taking a deep breath and then giving two sharp knocks. “Come in”

The door swung open and Derek patted him on the shoulder with a smile as he exited, no doubt having just received a glowing report regarding his physical health. Spencer dropped into the seat, casting a quick glance at the team of health professionals on Hotch’s couch and immediately regretting it. They were very clinical looking - pressed white lab coats, hair combed and gelled back, clipboards piled with papers, already scribbling away and speaking among themselves in hushed voices. “Ok Dr. Reid, we just have a few questions to ask you regarding your health practices and then we’ll take a look at the results from the Holter Monitor. Is that alright?”

“Um yeah. Yeah, that’s fine” he glanced over at Hotch who was leafing through Spencer’s notes with a raised eyebrow. The first few questions about his diet and lifestyle practices were easy but then came the dreaded evaluation of the Holter measurements. “Now we just have a few questions about some of the readings from the Holter. I see there was a bit of a spike right after you put it on that you attributed to nerves?”

“O-oh uh yeah, I was just a little nervous about having it on. That was it.” But that wasn’t the exact truth.

---

You had Spencer sit cross-legged on the bed without his shirt when he came home with the Holter. He was explaining how it worked as you studied the diagram detailing how to put it on. You slipped the wearable recording device over his head and climbed into his lap, surreptitiously rocking your hips into his as you untangled the wires. His hands encircled your waist, adjusting your angle so your clothed core ran against his entire length. You attached the electrodes carefully, kissing each patch of skin before covering it. His breath came out in soft pants as his release mounted and he squeezed his eyes shut. Just as he was about to come, you clicked the machine on and his eyes flew open.

“Wait, Y/N! I can’t - I’m supposed to keep my heart rate down.” The panic in his voice was evident and you smirked. If there was one thing you knew about Spencer it was that he liked succeeding. One might even say he liked winning - 3 Ph.Ds, prolific poker player, unsubs behind bars - so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that he was keen on passing his health evaluation. You trailed a hand down his chest, feeling the pounding heart he was trying to calm with deep breaths. “If you say so, doc”

---

The evaluator’s next question snapped him from his reverie. “That sounds fine but there was a concerning increase in your heart activity at 2 AM. It says here that you were exercising, specifically sprinting?”

Spencer dropped the pen he had been twirling and dove under his chair to get it. “Ah yes, I - uh - those are my nightly sprints.”

If Hotch’s eyebrows went up any farther they’d disappear in his hairline. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation when he spotted your face peeking out through an opening in his office blinds. You darted away quickly, sprinting back to your desk. Meanwhile, Spencer mentally chastised himself for his lack of self-restraint, saying that he was doing sprints at 2 AM was stupid but it was the only thing he could think of that could somewhat explain his elevated heart rate without revealing his actual activities.

---

He couldn’t sleep with the monitor on, tossing and turning in your arms until he rolled onto his back and let out a frustrated huff. You sleepily propped yourself up on your elbow. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

He scooted in closer, curling his body into yours and burying his face into your tits. He whined, “Can’t sleep with this thing on me”

“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to make you feel better?” You dipped a hand down the front of his pajama pants and he automatically pressed his hips forward, used to you soothing him in this way after nightmares. He was already half-hard and you stroked him softly before sliding down the bed. His whimpers at the loss of your breasts exploded into loud moans as you swallowed his length, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and sucking at the tip before taking him back into your throat. Usually, you would take your time but you were feeling particularly wicked tonight, bringing a hand up to cradle his balls as the other forced his wild hips down onto the bed. Once again you pulled away just as his orgasm began to materialize and he threw his head back against the pillows, whines devolving into a choked sob. “We wouldn’t want to mess up your Holter results, now would we?”

Needless to say, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

---

“Well Dr. Reid, this kind of activity is most unusual and frankly quite concerning. Your heart rate even shot up right before you returned the monitor which you again attributed to nerves.” Spencer’s face reddened as he recalled the events that transpired that morning.

---

He was pacing down a vacant hallway in the basement of the Bureau, willing his nerves away. He was sure he would fail. Could you even fail one of these evaluations? Probably. If anyone could fail it would be Spencer. Between the events of the last 24 hours and the fact that Derek was going right before him, he knew he was screwed. And then as if the universe were conspiring against him there you were coming out of the printer room, heels clicking against the floor, hips swaying, a form-fitting blouse leaving just enough to the imagination. And Spencer had a very vivid imagination. Watching you float towards him was really all it took to have him standing at attention, heart rate skyrocketing. But you were ever the overachiever, threading his tie between your fingers and pulling him in for a kiss. Your knee came up between his legs and he automatically rocked into you, still worked up from your relentless denial. You ran your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and applying even more pressure. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. Trying your very hardest to control yourself. It’s adorable.”

It didn’t even occur to Spencer that he had to return the monitor along with his notes in less than 10 minutes, he was cumming in his pants as soon as the praise left your lips, whining into your mouth as he finally attained his long-awaited release. He looked down at you in shock as you stepped back. “Shit, Y/N! What do I do? They’re gonna call me up in 5 minutes!”

You gave him a mocking look of sympathy as you smoothed the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “Guess you better get cleaned up then”

---

“Dr. Reid, I’d like to see you again for a follow-up.” The doctor on the left scribbled their name on the bottom of a form and handed it to Spencer. He gave the paper a quick glance before looking over at Hotch with wide eyes. Help me.

Hotch sighed, taking the form from Spencer and giving it a quick scan before returning it to the evaluation team. “As we know, Dr. Reid has had a tumultuous history with these physical assessments. However, he is an invaluable member of this team and has proven himself in the field time and time again. I don’t see any reason to prolong this evaluation. Now if you’ll excuse us, I believe Dr. Reid was your last appointment of the day”

They protested but Hotch fixed them with his trademark stare and they stood up to leave. “Very well, but Dr. Reid will not be exempt from his yearly fitness test this time.”

Spencer gulped, watching them file out the room. He turned to Hotch thanking him as he took his file and turned to leave, glad it was over. But before he could leave, Hotch cleared his throat. “I take it Y/N will be helping you train for your fitness test”

[stargazingthenightaway]

See Something You Like? Part 1

Pairing: Rebels Rex x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: NSFW 18+ Sexual tension, dirty thoughts, praise kink, size kink, Oral (female receiving) unwanted attention (not from main character) Dom!Rex

A/N: So I’ve decided to write a few, but what I thought would be a one shot has turned into this monster, so I’ve decided to break it down. Not sure how long it’ll be, but I get the feeling it’ll be at least 3 parts. This is inspired by @samrubio art especially her Rex pieces, go check it out! Also, if I missed any warning tags, let me know :)

It was a rarity for the firing range to be this empty. Usually it was crammed to the walls with training drills for new recruits, post mission vent sessions with the faceless targets or if you were unlucky, the cocky fly-boys trying to one-up each other, seeing who had the better ‘blaster’. If you were really unlucky, instead of leaving, their attention would turn to whoever they thought would enjoy their company, which consisted of what barely passed as a conversation before leading to the real objective, servicing the dangly bit between their legs. Their limp pick up line “I’ve got another blaster you can handle sweet cheeks” was in just as much need of an overhaul as their piloting skills. Sadly, you’ve been on the receiving end of these lack-lustre ‘invitations’ far too often and are quick to shut them down. It’s become so repetitive you can time it to the second when they make their appearance. All these boys are the same, give them a flight suit, a ship and they think they’re the Maker’s gift to the galaxy. 

‘They’re just so immature’ you think to yourself, a scowl on your face. Your last rebuffed fly-boy hasn’t gotten the memo that you’re not interested and continues to pester you. As if you’d want to spend 30 seconds listening to a dying bantha grunt into your ear, fumbling to get himself off and counting down until you’re smothered in dissatisfaction. Hard. Pass.

The only reason you have some peace is because they’re out on a mission, but you will take the reprieve. It’s a joy to have an opportunity to fit in some blaster practice without an audience. While you weren’t the worst shot in the rebellion, you certainly weren’t the best, but with enough practice you hope you’ll be placed on some off-planet missions. 

Sliding into an empty booth, you pick up one of the safety helmets, placing it on your head and type in one of the easier simulation codes on the keypad on the side of the wall. As the program calibrates, you remove the blaster from its holster on your thigh, flicking off the safety and settling into your stance. Breathe in, breathe out, shoot. This mantra helps get a rhythm going and soon you’re oblivious to everything around you except your target. The steady stream of blaster fire rings out, mixed with the sounds of high tings for each successful hit and clunky thunks with each miss. It’s pleasing to note that with each round there are more tings than there are thunks. Soon you’re drifting off with the repetitive movements, your thoughts going through your encounters with him.

Captain Rex, member of the Ghost crew and key participant of the rebellion. A legend in his own right. You had first seen him in passing, bringing up some data pads needed for a debrief and you just happened to look in his direction as you were leaving, and stars did you look. He was thick everywhere. His armour did nothing to hide his size as your gaze travelled from his barrel chest, to his thick waist, finally ending at his powerful thighs. Rex has the kind of body that makes you want to rub yourself all over him like a nexu in heat. As he spoke with Agent Fulcrum, Rex crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his shirt tight over his biceps, and your mouth watered. You were so busy ogling that Rex had finished his conversation and looked over your way.

Seeing you staring he gives you a small smirk and a wink before mouthing “see something you like?” You swear he flexed his arms a bit as he did that.

The smirk on his face grows as you feel your face heat up, hightailing it out of the debriefing room and making your way back to your office. It’s quite a while before your blush goes away, and more than one person asks if you’re feeling well. 

The next time you saw him was a bit more hands-on and it still makes you clench your thighs together when you recall this particular memory. You’d been paired as sparring partners, and if you thought Rex looked good in his armour, he was downright edible stripped down to a simple training shirt and grey sweatpants. The shirt stretched in all the right places and the pants were loose enough to provide movement where it was needed, but just snug enough to tease you about what he was packing.

You were so distracted that he easily put you on your back, repeatedly. Each time he knocked you over his thighs would bracket your own, your hands pinned by your head and the rest of his body caging you in. How in the Sith hells were you supposed to concentrate if this was exactly where you wanted to be! You clawed at whatever self-restraint you still possessed to not rub up against him, but maker he made it difficult. 

After the final throw Rex settled on your thighs and smirked down at you “What’s the matter mesh’la?” He took in your flushed cheeks, “You seem distracted, I didn’t think you’d take everything I gave you so easily.” 

Your face was on fire, your brain traitorously giving you ideas of what else you’d take from him, and how well you’d enjoy it.

“Surely you can get me on my back.” You eyes snapped up to his, “all you need to do is use your hips and thrust.”

Fuck.

You felt yourself get wet as a throb built up between your legs from just his voice alone. You needed to finish whatever this had become so you could finish your own needs, preferably in the privacy of your own bunk. With a strength that surprised even you, you took Rex’s advice to thrust your hips up, bracing you leg to provide enough leverage to push him over. The look of surprise on his face that you took his words to heart was something you would never forget. 

As you settled over his waist, his hands came up to your sides, sliding down to rest on your hips, keeping you in place. 

“Knew you could do it” His surprise had turned into a beatific smile, looking up at you as his hands squeezed your hips. “Good girl.”

The triumphant words die on your lips as you look down at him and see exactly how you’re positioned. Your hands are braced on his chest and your thighs have splayed out to the sides to fit over his waist. There is a pleasant ache along your inner thighs from the stretch. If anyone saw the suggestive scene of the pair of you right now, the gossip hotline would be buzzing for months. You made a motion to move but Rex’s hands keep you snug against himself. His thumbs had made their way under the edge of your shirt and traced light circles over your skin. Arousal flooded your veins and you felt your slick starting to soak your panties. 

You look back up to Rex’s face and he tightens his grip “See something you like mesh’la?”

Before you could answer the door burst open, causing the two of you to startle, zoning back in to the present. Chatter filled the room as Wolffe and Gregor brought in the next group of ‘shinies’ for sparring practice. The bubble of intimacy had burst and you hurriedly got off Rex, babbling some thanks about the advice before bolting out of the room. That was six weeks ago, the Ghost having left on a mission, taking Rex with them.

The buzzer in your booth goes off, signalling the end of the simulation. You’re not ready to head back to the responsibilities of intelligence just yet, so you up the intensity of another exercise and when you’re happy with your rhythm, let your thoughts turn back to Rex. 

He’d become the prominent figure in all your fantasies. Before that, neither your toys or your hands would work to get you off, leaving you frustrated and horny. In a fit of desperation you thought back to your spar, but instead of sitting on Rex’s waist you were sitting on his face.

You imagined how his arms would wrap around your thighs, muscles flexing to make sure you stay exactly where he wants you to, and that’s on his tongue. Moans fill the room as he slowly eats you out, long licks up your folds to harsh sucks on your clit. The vibrations from his groans sending you spiralling to the edge, only for him to back off when you’re so close, leaving you sobbing and trembling with need. He’d leave little nibbles and bites along your inner thighs as he waits for the trembling to stop, and his beard, fuck. Rex would nuzzle the side of his face along your legs, leaving more marks that you were his. Letting you know that he was the only one that could give you the satisfaction you craved. You’d squirm, just to feel him tighten his hold, knowing that he controlled your pleasure. 

“Look at me,” he’d growl before licking up your slit, drinking you down, “want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum on my tongue.” This sends another rush of slick from your core, the feeling in your belly coiled tight, waiting to snap. You yelp as there’s a sharp bite to your thigh.

“You like it when I tell you to watch” Rex grins from between your thighs, and you can see the evidence of your arousal glistening on his beard. Stars that is hot. There is a feral look in his golden eyes “Next time I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of a mirror, show you how wet you get for me.”

Your needy whine of approval turns into a lascivious moan as Rex plunges his tongue into your heat, rapidly bringing your orgasm back to the edge, but this time he doesn’t stop. His tongue speeds up, alternating between fluttering around your opening and pushing in as far as he can, nose pressed into your clit. All too soon you’re flying over the edge into sweet oblivion.

With a choked scream you cum, legs clamped tight around Rex’s head, his arms pulling you closer as his tongue working furiously to collect everything that you give him. He groans in delight and that sets off another small orgasm which has you seeing white. When you finally come down from your high you look back down at Rex, a blissed out expression on your face. 

Rex has to practically lift you off him, moving you down so that you’re straddling his waist and conveniently nestling his cock between your folds, and that’s another part of him you’re all too eager to get to know. 

As you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, Rex puts a hand around the back of your neck, pulling your closer. You don’t need to be force sensitive to feel how smug he is, it’s written all over his face and the possessive arm draped around your waist. 

He nuzzles your nose when you’re close enough, before whispering two devastating words “Good girl.”

A blaring sound yanks you out of your daydream, and you realize that you’ve stopped shooting at the targets. The noise is the warning alarm that the simulation will shut off after 30 more seconds of inactivity. What it is is an inconvenience. You slam the pause button a little more forcefully than you need to, too riled up from your own fantasy simulation. It seems to have worked a little too well, judging by ache between your legs. 

Putting the safety back on your blaster, you drop it onto the shelf in front of the booth opening. Thinking back, there was something in Rex’s eyes as he called you “good girl”  that you can’t quite put your finger on. Discovering that you enjoyed being praised was one thing, but it seemed that Rex was holding something back, something that had to do with that phrase. Not knowing what it was set you on edge, that it could be something about you and that feeling didn’t sit well. 

There was just something about him that makes you crave his attention, wanting to please him so he’d call you “good girl” again. You shiver as you think about how he looked between your thighs, how wide you had to stretch to fit him between you legs. 

You groan to yourself, knowing you’re well and truly gone on this man, and that you’d let him do whatever he wanted, just as long as you could be his good girl. You lean forward against the small shelf, burying your head in your arms.

“Fuuuuck me.” 

“Am I interrupting something, mesh’la?”

To be continued

[searidings]

Kara moving in with her best bud Lena for Reasons (maybe her apartment is temporarily fucked up?) and now Lena has to watch her exercise/weight-lift/do yoga in a sports bra in her apartment

It’s already been a capital D type of Day, full of misogynistic potential investors and minor workplace explosions, when Lena opens her front door to the sight of Kara Danvers in a perfect-form downward facing dog on her living room floor.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she mutters, dropping her keys noisily onto the kitchen counter and making a beeline for the booze cupboard.

“Did you say something?” Kara asks angelically, transitioning smoothly into a cobra that very delightfully and extremely unhelpfully causes her biceps to flex like a Greek goddess. Her eyes, bluer than ever against the vast expanses of smooth golden skin on display above the sinfully tight cerulean sports bra she’s wearing, flutter angelically. She beams beatifically up at Lena from her yoga mat as if there’s any possibility her superhearing didn’t pick up on Lena’s words. As if she isn’t just trying to make Lena repeat herself for her own amusement.

“What are you even doing?” Lena asks a little more sharply than she intends, jaw clenched as she wills herself not to so much as glance in the direction of Kara’s exposed abs. She treats herself to a heavy pour of scotch, pauses to consider, then adds some more. “It’s not like you need to exercise. Like, at all.”

“Surely I get to indulge in whichever recreational activities I choose in my own home,” Kara replies cheerily, avoiding Lena’s carried-home-after-a-shitty-day snark with practiced ease.

“You gave up that privilege when you moved into my home instead,” Lena deadpans, Kara’s irrepressible affability in the face of her own bad moods beginning to chip away at her steely CEO armour. “That’s what you get for letting a flea-infested mongrel into your apartment—”

“Hey, Toto couldn’t help having fleas—”

“And not only that, letting it all over your couch, your bed—”

“He was cold! He just wanted to snuggle—”

Lena shudders. “You snuggled with that monstrous thing? I hope to god you burned the clothes you were wearing. And maybe the whole couch too.”

“Toto was not a thing, he fit perfectly on my—”

“And isn’t Toto usually the name of a small dog?” Lena asks incredulously, throwing back the scotch in one smooth swallow and pouring herself another. “That beast was almost taller than you!”

“Being a lap dog isn’t about size, Lena. It’s a state of mind.”

“A state of mind that’s meant your entire apartment has had to be fumigated. Twice.”

“And I’d do it again,” Kara says resolutely, pushing up into a high plank and inadvertently flexing her shoulders in a way that has Lena’s fingers slipping around the tumbler in her grasp. “Toto was homeless. He needed someone to take him in and love him, and I did.”

She drops to her knees and pushes back into child’s pose, tilting her chin up to gaze at Lena from between her extended arms. “Just like you’ve done with me.”

And Lena curses Kara and every one of her ancestors right back to the dawn of time for how endearing she is in this moment. For how physiologically incapable Lena is of maintaining her façade of annoyance in the face of those earnest eyes. God, when had she gotten so fucking soft?

But any thoughts of the blonde as cute or adorable evaporate into thin air as Kara pushes back up into downward dog, lifting one leg straight above her in a graceful arch. Her forearms flex as long fingers grip into the soft mat and Lena chokes a little on her next sip of scotch, eyes unfortunately, deliciously glued to the jut of Kara’s hipbone through her yoga pants and the toned lines of her tightened thighs.

“Seriously though,” Lena manages, turning away from the sight and congratulating herself on the fact that her voice is only slightly higher than normal. “Why do you even bother? It’s not going to tone you up any. Not that you need it,” she mutters into her scotch glass, tipping out the dregs of the bottle and reaching into the cupboard for a fresh one.

When she turns back to face the living room Kara’s cheeks are flushed, almost as if she’s blushing. Or maybe all the blood is just rushing to her stupid, unfairly attractive head.

“Yoga is about more than just muscle tone, Lena,” the blonde says disapprovingly, her gaze fixed on her mat. “It’s a mind-body connection. Mindfulness. Inner peace. It’s doing wonderful things for my stress levels.”

“It’s doing terrible things for mine,” Lena mutters, knowing Kara will hear her but finding herself increasingly uncaring as the scotch warming her throat begins to course hot through her veins.

“Then maybe you should get down here and join me,” Kara murmurs, voice low as she switches legs.

The blonde’s tone is practically a purr and Lena chokes for real this time, spluttering out the scotch attempting to find its forever home inside her lungs. Kara is behind her in a second, hand hot through the thin material of Lena’s blouse as she rubs gentle circles between her shoulder blades.

The offending appendage doesn’t withdraw, however, even once Lena’s regained full use of her airways and is wiping the tears from her eyes. In fact, it’s joined by a friend, and both of Kara’s hands slip up and over her shoulders quite without Lena’s permission, fingers kneading into the tight muscle.

“Wow, you are tense,” Kara murmurs, thumbs doing something absolutely sinful to the knots in Lena’s neck. The blonde steps closer, bracketing Lena against the cool marble of the kitchen island with her hips and it takes every single shred of self-control Lena possesses not to sag back into the hot body hovering against the length of her own.

Lena shuts her eyes and bites down on her lower lip, hard. Anything to keep from focusing on the warmth radiating off Kara’s oh God partially clothed body like a furnace.

Long dextrous fingers dig delicious into the tense set of Lena’s shoulders and she barely manages to hold back the breathy sounds of pleasure she’s fairly certain she should not be making at her best friend’s touch. Kara, if anything, seems spurred on by Lena’s restraint, fingers slipping inside the collar of Lena’s blouse to press firmly against her bare skin and oh God Lena is not going to survive this.

In fact, she can actively feel herself giving in to the pull, to Kara’s ineffable magnetism. She sways backwards just slightly, and Lena swears she’s not the only one who sucks in a sharp breath when their bodies fully connect. The frame pressed to her back is warm and firm and God, Kara is solid against her in a way that has all the blood in Lena’s body migrating south with pinpoint precision.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” Kara whispers, her breath ghosting the shell of Lena’s ear and making her shiver. “I could walk you through some asanas. Might help loosen you up.”

Jesus fuck.

“Nope!” Lena squeaks, cheeks aflame, pushing away from Kara and snagging the bottle of scotch on the way to her bedroom. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Enjoy your practice.”

The quiet sounds of Kara’s chuckles follow her all the way down the hall.

Lena spends the first five minutes of her shower staring unseeing at the tiled wall, mind blank but for the image of Kara’s washboard abs over the waistband of her yoga pants, the firm press of her body against Lena’s back.

The second five minutes is spent in intense silent conversation with herself, administering an internal pep talk worthy of a high school spirit rally and trying to convince her racing heart to resume its regular rhythm.

The third interval consists of Lena shampooing her hair in mounting despair, trying desperately to foresee a way of surviving the next three days of cohabitation until Kara’s apartment is deemed safe and fume-free if the blonde is going to insist on doing distracting activities and wearing distracting sports bras and just generally being distracting the whole time.

It’s only by minute sixteen of Lena’s long indulgent shower that a plan begins to form in her mind. She steps out onto the bathmat, appraising the various towels slung over the heated rail until she finds one fit for purpose. Tucks it snug round her body and pulls her dripping curls over one shoulder before making her way back out to the living room.

She can pinpoint the exact moment the blonde notices her entrance because the quiet room is suddenly filled with a rubbery tearing sound as Kara, on her hands and knees for a spine stretch, rips the mat beneath her hands clean in two.

Lena bites her lip to hold back a smirk, watching as blue eyes track slowly up the expanse of her bare legs, unimpeded by the towel that only barely reaches to mid-thigh, and then up to follow the droplets of water tracking their way down Lena’s chest until they disappear into the soft fabric.

Kara’s mouth is hanging open, arms and legs splayed wide where they rest on either side of the torn mat, and Lena relishes the thrill of victory that zips up her spine like a firecracker. Two can play at this game, that’s for sure.

“I was going to ask if you were ready to order takeout for dinner,” Lena says, letting her own voice drop low as she quirks an eyebrow. Her gaze falls pointedly to the sad remains of Kara’s yoga mat and this time she can’t hold back her smirk. “But it seems your mind-body connection might still need some work. I’ll leave you to it.”

Satisfied, she turns on her heel and saunters back to the bedroom, Kara’s eyes glued to her swinging hips like a physical weight on her body.

Cheeks pink, heart pounding, she drops onto her bedspread as a heady combination of relief and pleasure courses through her veins. Lena hasn’t had a roommate since boarding school but maybe this cohabitation – temporary as it may be – will end up having a few unanticipated perks.

[jabberwalky-talky]

stepdad kira....flashing cawk...while he pissin wif da door open....I just like the idea of him being a lil startled and tryna make it out like you did it on purpose...

cw: (Pseudo Incest, Urine, Implied Underage)

This man is a deranged variety of exhibitionist. Like a parasite, he's wormed his way into your life and latched on in every respectable fashion, leeching and sucking dry the once privileged status of your privacy. Initially, you hadn't had high hopes for a new man coming into the family.

Kira had smashed those expectations into the ground, grinded his shoe into them, and spat on what brittle remnants remained.

He'd come into your life and turned it upside down without a shred of remorse, all the while winning the adoration and praises of your mother, who couldn't see past his painfully boring and unsettlingly pristine exterior. A curfew was enforced, your grades were checked ad nauseam, and a disturbingly pleasant tradition of a family dinner each night came to be.

Making six figures and driving a posh work car and versed in literature, Yoshikage Kira had a hard time drawing suspicion to him from anyone save for his stepchild. Chalk it up to bitter teen angst and a lack of trust or a case of jealousy, either way it was blaringly obvious he was hiding something to you.

Your mother, didn't think so, unfortunately. Perhaps only you were privy to the strange glint in his eye whenever he'd leer under his lashes after asking you what you thought of the latest recipe he's made for dinner. You come to find it takes a ridiculous amount of self restraint not to storm off from whatever the Hell this is - His mere presence has you shuddering under a Truman show uncanniness, as if every work out of his mouth is overly measured.

Perhaps you get to a breaking point after an overly gently reprimanding for some minor disobedience. You're under the impression your boundaries have been impeded upon by the intruder in your own home. Insomnia plagues once comfortable nights, your mind always awaiting his nightly check in to ensure you've really turned your lights off this time. If you hear the low lull of his voice one more time, you think you will tear the hair right off your scalp.

Catching dirt on this man is no easy task given how his rigid schedule involves a lot of downtime when off work consisting of meditation and stretching and surprisingly rigorous exercise. He's constantly hyperaware of his surroundings, no doubt catlike in his mannerisms, and he's got the unnerving ability to walk near silently. He hadn't thought you'd be the type to ditch school early, unaware of just how deep this little grudge of yours ran. You hadn't even unlocked the door- you'd crawled through the window, armed with the flip phone you'd bought from the mall without his knowledge. The house was in pristine condition as always, crisp and spotless ever since Kira had anything to say about it. Down the hall, the master bedroom door is open, and you can hear the too quiet shuffling of his clothes. You presume he’s getting ready to shower after his afternoon work out and had no good reason to shut the door if he was under the impression he was home alone.  You’re creeping as silently as you possibly can... maybe you’ll catch a smear of lipstick on his shirt collar, you’ll find a cigarette in his pocket- anything to imply that this man is anything less than robotically sterile. Though your heart is racing and pounding nigh in your throat, you’re suddenly hit by the sound of a gentle streaming- liquid hitting stagnant liquid. The finger over the record button falters- you can’t press it, you can’t force yourself to, not when you’re wide eyed watching your step father relive himself with his disturbingly impressive prick. 

Maybe that’s why mom likes him.  He sighs, lashes fluttering as he pisses, the steady flow a healthy pale yellow with a single hand to guide its direction. It shouldn’t be such a mesmerizing sight, his boxers pulled down, shirt just the slightest bit damp and his bangs clinging to his forehead, looking so utterly blissed out.  The second he’s done wiping himself and tucking his cock away, your eyes meet and the color drains from both of your faces. Seemingly, time slows, and you didn’t have a split second to even wipe your watering jaws, only dropping the phone and going to make a break for it when you’re snatched up by the wrist, his palm still warm.  He’s about to shove an accusatory finger in your face, pupils small, only to be interrupted-

“You didn’t wash your hands.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Burn - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry’s blindfolded.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: p in v, oral (f and m), curse words, one mention of daddy! kink, unprotected sex (I don’t recommend it), restraints and blindfolds. Also, the reader is trying to be a dom in this one, but she’s pretty soft.

A/N: day 11 of kinktober and the prompts were blindfold + “Hold it”. Once again, the smut is coming without revision and I’m still taking up friendship applications and beta applications which may or may not coincide. Hope you like this one, because I’m feeling dead inside.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Rationally, I knew it was stupid to feel this way. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to a date with Henry, but the truth was, nothing could have prepared me to what it would feel like to see him kissing someone else, having to sell that he was in love with another woman because that was a part of what he did to make a living.

But I had the best boyfriend, and he seemed to know exactly what I needed to feel better about the entire situation.

“How are you feeling, baby?” I asked as I slowly grinded against his belly muscles, appreciating the view of my very strong boyfriend stripped naked, blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed. 

“I-I’m okay,” he answered in the form of a whisper, almost like he was afraid to break the sexual atmosphere of the room, but I pouted. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. It made me feel like I wasn’t doing my job right.

“Only okay?” I had to clarify, running one of my fingers over his bottom lip, before pulling it down and biting it until I heard him gasp. “You’re breaking my heart, honey. Would you prefer if it was Keyra doing this with you?”

The reaction was immediate. His body tensed up, and by the abrupt movement of his arms, I could see he had tried to move them to hold me, but the restraints made it impossible for him to do so.

“No, darling. Absolutely not. You’re the only one I want like this, the only one I trust enough to share this experience with.” I melted. Who wouldn’t, after such a declaration from the man you love?

“I know, baby,” I calmed him, leaning down to press a quick kiss on his lips, watching in amusement as he tried to follow me in the hopes of deepening it. “I’m only messing with you.” I resumed the movements over his abs, needing to feel a little bit more friction on my clit. His answering groan warned me of how truly pained he was feeling at the whole situation.

“Not being able to see you grinding against my chest is the most terrible punishment you could administer.” I had to giggle at his dramatics. Only my bear of a boyfriend would feel so terrible at having his girlfriend controlling his pleasure for once.

“Well, maybe this way you can understand how I feel everytime you film a love scene with another person.” He sucked in a breath, immediately shutting up, and I almost felt bad about my honest remark, but I decided he was mature enough to be able to suck it up. He was the one to suggest our current activity, after all.

“You know what? I don’t see why your punishment should be mine, too. I wanna cum, and you’re gonna make me cum.” I climbed over his body until my legs were on each side of his face, and I tried to ignore the cheshire cat smile Henry was trying very hard to suppress at the prospect of eating me out. “You remember what you have to do when you need to come up for air? Ok.”

After making sure he was reminded of the safe gesture we had anticipated for this kind of activity (a bite on my inner thigh), I lowered myself to meet his waiting tongue, that stood perfectly pointed up at me.

“Fuck,” I immediately breathed out, as always pleasantly surprised at just how incredible Henry was at eating pussy. He treated it like some sort of exotic, delicious dish, and he loved how wet he could make me get just so there was more for him to taste. “You’re too good at this,” I jested, wrapping my fingers around his curls, taking advantage of the fact that he had allowed his hair to get longer for this last role. I loved it like this, I loved being able to use it to try to control his movements.

But tonight, I didn’t have to try. I was the one in control. 

I rode Henry’s face slowly, still too self-aware in this position, but the second his lips wrapped around my clit, I was a goner. Gripping the headboard in front of me, I let myself sit more comfortably in his face, trusting in his use of the safety measure if it was necessary, and I relaxed, enjoying the filthy symphony that my moans and his slurping sounds created in our bedroom. 

As my high approached, he must have sensed it, because his licking became more feral, growls escaping his lips and reverberating against me as I started to fully grind my pussy against his face, crying out every time I bumped on his nose.

And then, I flooded his lips with my essence, temporarily blacking out before scrambling to get out of his face, so he could properly breathe again. I felt like my heart was fluttering at the sight of his perfect lips arranged in a full-on pout.

“You didn’t let me enjoy my meal properly!”

“You’re not supposed to enjoy this at all, remember?” He still looked like I had deeply hurt him, so I leaned down to properly kiss him for the first time that night. Henry moaned against my lips when I deepened our kiss, allowing his tongue to dance with mine as I appreciated my own taste. When we separated again, I was slightly out of breath and his lips were a shade of pink that denounced just how roughly we’d been kissing.

“Didn’t take you for having an asphyxiation kink,” I whispered against his lips, making him smile. “Now, I think it’s about time I take care of you, huh? Let me help you.” Henry didn’t say anything to that, knowing a trap when he heard one. In fact, I could see that he was holding his breath, as I made my way down his body, until I was staring at his perfect cock. The second I wrapped my hand around it, a deep, guttural groan escaped from Henry’s chest.

“Well, someone’s been feeling deprived.” I smiled at my boyfriends chuckle, knowing that was the very idea of the exercise we were currently partaking in, only now it was time for the real torture. Slowly, I licked a strip from the base of his cock until his leaking head, allowing myself to shallowly suck the precum there before immediately releasing his member.  

“You do taste wonderfully,” I teased, licking my own lips to chase the remnants of his taste. My only response was another groan, this one more tortured than the last. “And we’re only getting started, baby.”

I leaned down to wrap my lips around his dick once more, this time going further down after spending a few minutes sucking on the head of his member. Each new inch I uncovered had me retreating until only the head was between my lips, until I was bobbing my head and sucking the life out of him.

Henry’s P.O.V.

Going from practically no stimulation to the best blowjob of my life was making me feral with the intensity of the reactions she provoked on my body. My heartbeat had accelerated to a point not even running could achieve, and I swear that if I was standing, my knees would have given out on me.

Within minutes, I could feel my sack weighing heavier, signaling a fast approaching release I knew she wouldn’t grant me. Still, I allowed myself to entertain the idea of cumming on her perfect mouth, filling her up with my seed and hearing her satisfied little moan at my taste on her tongue. 

“Hold it.” Two words, and yet the effect was instantaneous, if only because at the sight of me fighting against my restraints as my orgasm approached, she immediately retreated until only her fist remained on my erection, massaging it just enough to keep it alive.

The slow, shallow movements were worse than nothing at all, somehow. I couldn’t keep the disappointed groan that made her laugh from showing just how devastated I truly was, but her answering laugh came with the feeling of her warm cunt rubbing against the blunt head of my cock, so I felt like a reward was on the horizon for me.

“Do you miss this?” I knew what she was referring to, and I also knew the answer without even needing to think about it. There were few things I loved in life more than being inside of her, and in that moment, I couldn’t remember any of them.

“Madly.” She chuckled at my answer, and I could perfectly imagine her shaking her head at me, a cute little smile on her face as she averted her gaze, still incapable of accepting just how much I truly loved and desired her.

“How is it that you always know just what to say?” It was my turn to chuckle, but it turned into a hiss as she calmly positioned my cock over her hole and leisurely sat down on it, like it was no big deal at all.

I knew better, however. It was in the way her nails bit on my navel as the muscles in her thighs struggled to accept the tempo of the movement she was performing. I knew she was relishing in the burn of my member stretching her, like it always did anytime I penetrated her, no matter how thoroughly I fucked her nightly. She always struggled to take me in, and I can’t say it wasn’t a huge ego booster.

“Tell me what you want,” she ordered, and I licked my lips at the prospect of finally getting my way. 

“I want to fill that perfect little pussy until it’s dripping out of you, even with my cock still buried in there.” I didn’t have to see to know that she shivered at my words. I could feel it through the connection between our bodies, and I took devious delight in it.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Well, I couldn’t say that he didn’t earn it. Just his words were enough to get me hornier than I’d ever been before I met Henry, and my hips moved on their own accord, until I was riding him with an ardor I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling. I didn’t even know I had the muscle strength to express it.

Nonetheless, we’re capable of a lot when we’re thrown in the fits of passion, I’d come to learn. And for Henry, I was pretty much down to do anything. So I just accepted the burst of energy and held on his chest for the ride, taking the opportunity to oggle my boyfriend freely even though I could see his beautiful eyes staring back at me. 

He still looked perfect, and absolutely ruined, his mouth open in a silent O as he panted and tried to thrust up against me as I fucked myself on his cock, but his desperation didn’t allow him to match our tempos. 

I still knew just how to make him cum with me, though.

Planting my knees on the mattress more firmly, I leaned over him to change the angle he was hitting inside of me, making sure the head of his cock was pounding against my sweet spot each time he was snuggled deep inside of me. And then, I threw myself back at his member furiously, determined to reach my own high and bring him with me. 

“Come on, honey, didn’t you say you wanted to fill me up? Here’s your chance. Fill me up, daddy. I wanna have your cum dripping out of me, making a mess on our bed. Please, cum inside of me. Please, please, please.” Each word that came out of my lips was accompanied by a jolt of my hips, and soon enough, Henry’s cock was twitching inside of me just when I, too, reached that euphoric high. 

I’d barely caught my breath and he was already struggling against the restraints, wordlessly begging me to release him, and I had to roll my eyes at his antics. “There you go, was that really so hard?” I asked after I’d freed him from the handcuffs and he immediately took off the blindfold, his hands coming up to squeeze a breast before rubbing all over my body, like he was trying to make up for lost time. 

“Darling, I think you know better than anyone just how hard I was.” I had to laugh, thankful to have his hands on me again after, in reality, depriving myself of his touch, but he really wasn’t wrong in what he was saying.

“Oh, yeah, I can attest to that. Specially since you’re still pretty hard inside of me.” Before I could understand what was happening, he had rolled us over until he was the one hovering over me, his cock still nested deep inside my pussy.

“And I know just the way to solve that problem.”

[writteninsunshine]

Whipped Cream - Fizzarolli/Asmodeus - NSFW

Title: Whipped Cream

Author: Keith

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Setting: Ozzie’s Bedroom

Pairing: Fizzarolli/Asmodeus | Ozzie

Characters: Fizzarolli, Asmodeus | Ozzie

Genre: Erotic/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 398

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Day 9 Of 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, AU - Omegaverse, AU - A/B/O, Food Play, Food Fetish, Body Worship, Orgasm Denial, Drug Use, Nipple Play, Macro/Micro, Bondage, Restraints

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: Maybe it was cliché but Fizzarolli wasn't complaining.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a Helluva Boss Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Gimme-A-Thrust! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr/Twitter!

OKAY, so this one was just a little self-indulgent thing I wanted to play with. Whipped cream or chocolate sauce is so good, and nipple play is something I love to indulge in in fiction. I want Ozzie to have pierced nipples but it isn’t important for this fic. I know it’s short but I think it’s good as it is.

Since it’s NSFW from the start, the whole thing is under a cut.

30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Fic Masterlist

Whipped Cream

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You look so fucking good, Babe.” Fizzarolli purred, licking his lips as he placed the maraschino cherry in the center of the whipped cream hill he’d made on one of Ozzie’s nipples. The heart-shaped areola had guided him in making a heart heaped with cream until it was a veritable mountain. Making a show of lolling his forked tongue out, he licked a careful rut into the side, “I could just eat you up.”

“Mmmmfffffuuck, don’t keep me waiting, sexy.” Asmodeus moaned lowly, his hips raising a little. With his arms and legs spread apart wide by the straps at each corner of the bed, he was a delicious meal just waiting to be savored. Granted, it seemed that Fizzarolli wanted to start with dessert.

Slowly leaning over and sucking the cherry into his mouth, Olli chewed and swallowed the fruit with the stem held between his teeth and gums. Tying the stem into a knot, he produced it for the other’s viewing pleasure earning him another loud moan. The Alpha purred nice and loud, extending his legs back to wrap around the other’s cock and give him a playful stroke. Dipping his tongue into the tunnel he’d made to swipe it against the other’s nipple, he relished in the little abortive thrust Ozzie tried to give him, the desperate braying making Ollie’s hips roll down into Ozzie’s ribcage.

“Due time, Babe, due time,” Olli promised, licking some more whipped cream off of the outside of the heart. Trailing his mouth around it, he finally lowered down over the other’s nipple completely and sucked hard, his face sticky with the whipped cream clinging to his chin and nose. Ozzie’s cry of pleasure was uproarious, and his hips twitched again as he panted and gasped. The ecstasy in his system was making this so much better, he was so sensitive and reactive, and Fizzarolli loved it. By the time he had cleaned the other’s nipple completely of the sweet, sugary mess, Ozzie was babbling and begging mindlessly.

“Mmm, that’s it, Baby Doll,” Fizzarolli purred, leaning over to get another cherry out of the jar, “Just gotta do the other one, alright?” The groan that earned him only spurred him on further as he repeated his previous routine with the other nipple. 

Ozzie was going to come just from this, and he was going to make damn sure of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Just a little short one this time, I love challenging myself to write smaller smut scenes. It’s fun and also a good exercise in self-control for me. I like to write large smut scenes usually.

Prompt: 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Day 9 - Food

[rocorambles]

Omg thank you 🥺 I’m the anon who took the LSAT this weekend. You’re so sweet, and your response really made me feel better about the whole thing. I thought of a Noya request, but again, no worries if you’re too busy!

Tbh I would really love a Noya who’s a little frustrated because reader’s been busy working and not giving him much attention. Maybe he’s starting to notice she’s burning out and decides he’s got to get her to take a break. And after a bit of initial resistance they share a nice smutty evening...

I’m glad my response made you feel better and I hope this drabble only adds to the good vibes~

Warnings: NSFW

Nishinoya knows how important studying is for you, how much you love the path you’ve chosen, even if he doesn’t understand your fondness for countless cups of coffee and a handful of hours of sleep (if even that). He loves watching the way your brows furrow as you scan over your notes and textbooks, loves observing how beautiful and passionate you are as your eyes light up when something clicks in your head, loves nodding along as you excitedly go on and on about an interesting case you read through. He doesn’t really understand what you’re saying and can’t really follow along, but that’s alright. You’re happy, so he’s happy and he rests his head on your lap as you pore over more and more pages. 

But Nishinoya has never been known to be patient or for his self-control and he grows more and more antsy as your exams come up and you barely spare him even a good morning or a chaste kiss, too busy squinting at your laptop or accidentally falling asleep right on your desk mid-study session. 

It would be one thing if this was just another exam or assignment that was due and as frustrating as it is, Nishinoya is fairly good at entertaining himself, his right hand getting some extra exercise in as he keeps him and his libido from distracting you until he can pounce on you the second you’re done. 

But it isn’t and he can feel distress mixing with his touch starved appetite as he sees the fire he had loved about you dwindling down to mere embers, as he feels anxiety, stress, and doubt tearing you apart. And when he hears you sobbing alone in the bathroom one late night when you think he’s fast asleep, he can’t hold himself back any longer. 

You shriek as the bathroom door is slammed upon, hastily trying to hide your tear-stained face away from your lover. But maybe you needed this more than you had thought because as soon as you feel familiar wiry arms tug you in close and inhale Nishinoya’s comforting scent, you’re breaking down again, soaking his shirt with your tears as you clutch onto him, basking in the way he just silently holds you and lets you cry away the heavy weight on your shoulders, sharing your burden with him. 

The silence doesn’t last long though and you giggle when you can practically feel Nishinoya vibrate in anticipation, guiltily trying not to push you so fast after your emotional breakdown, but also doing a terrible job hiding how excited he is about getting to hold you in his arms once again. You suppose he deserves a reward for all his self-control and if you’re being honest, now that you’re here, pressed against his toned body, arousal begins to flicker through your pent-up body. And in silent encouragement, you playfully plant your lips against his, humming in pleasure at the feel of his skin against your before pulling away with a slight nip to his lower lip and a mischievous smile on your lips at the wide-eyed look of shock and hope on his face. 

You squeal when strong arms quickly lift you up, Nishinoya bounding towards your shared bedroom and throwing you on to the soft mattress. But your laughter is swiftly cut off by breathy moans and gasps as hungry lips kiss and suck your neck and collarbone, greedy hands roughly kneading your breasts while simultaneously ridding you of any pesky fabric that inhibits their access, Nishinoya’s groin eagerly grinding against yours. 

And then you’re wailing, internally cursing yourself for not letting him do this sooner, for withholding this pleasure from both of you these past few months of studying as a hot wet mouth wraps around your nipples, tongue flicking the aroused buds, calloused fingertips diving between your already drenched pussy alternating between fondling your clit and stretching you open. 

But as much as Nishinoya could happily lose himself in just playing with your chest, his throbbing cock and heavy balls ache in need and desperation and deeming you sufficiently prepared, he slips inside of you in one smooth motion, groaning when he’s finally balls deep inside of you, biting hard on his lower lip as he uses every last bit of restraint he has to not just fuck you hard into the mattress in a chase to his own end. 

Confused, you whine, weakly pawing at your lover, tightening your sopping wet pussy around his cock to spur him on. But your face heats up when intense eyes pin you down, lust and love swirling in an intoxicating cocktail, moaning into the sloppy kiss he bestows upon you, returning his feverishly muttered mantra of “I love you, I love you, I love you”, eyes rolling in the back of your head as he smoothly ruts in and out of you all the while. 

It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way his cock drags and rubs against your walls, nudging at the spongy spot inside of you that has your jaw going slack. But you want more, more, more and how can Nishinoya resist when you’re screaming his first name, begging and pleading like your life depends on it, like you need his cock to survive? 

And just like that, any self-control he had shatters to pieces as he brutally slams into you, pounding in and out of your gummy walls, losing himself in the lewd symphony of your bodies connecting and your pleasured cries echoing through the room. You’re not faring any better and your orgasm crashes over you, surprising you with its intensity and suddenness, body convulsing and writhing underneath your lover and as your walls clamps down around him, milking him, he thrusts one last time inside of you, filling you deep inside as he empties his balls inside of you, marking you with hot sticky white stripes. 

There’s only the sound of your panting breaths as he collapses next to you, exhaustedly pulling your still twitching body into his arms and you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, letting yourself bask in the sweet blissful afterglow, heavy eyelids fluttering shut. 

But a dopey smile spreads across your face and you deliriously laugh at the cheeky comment that flits through your ear before you fall fast asleep. 

“We should do more of these study breaks.”

[actualbird]

djgdgj I was having such a fun time reading Luke and mc's suffering with beer and then you hit me with Vyn's section wHY

Poor Luke and mc having to drink beer of all things. Literally everyone around me who drinks talks about how it tastes bad so my heart goes out to the two of them. From then on the two of them never go near beer ever again.

Marius making fun of Vyn and his wine tasting fgidgi perfection. There's this post on tumblr talking about how easy it is to scam wine connoisseurs and how they can't tell the difference between the high quality vintage wine and cheap wine. Once Marius finds it it's over for Vyn. Marius just gained some incredibly strong ammo and he will absolutely use it as much as he can. It'll be an exercise in self restraint for Vyn to not bash him over the head after that. The last section with Vyn and his father had me in so much pain. To have something he liked be ruined by memories...

dgjdfu poor Marius alcohol really doesn't taste good to a child. I'm just imagining mc mentioning the whiskey Luke had in his Christmas SR and Marius immediately being disappointed in Luke. He respects his tastes and the sentimental value of the whiskey but also his tastes are wrong.

DGJDGDJ CELESTINE GOING TO BRING A SHOVEL I LOVE HER. Artem don't complain your friends are amazing and I wish I had them. Celestine and Neil never let him near alcohol when it's not for work reasons ever again. After Atmospherics, Artem wakes up with a hangover, remembers the behaviour that Neil and Celestine noted down and immediately starts panicking. He really did just subject mc to his drunken shenanigans.

All of them are braver than me sigh the smell of alcohol alone ensures I'm never touching it if I can help it. I absolutely loved this headcanon alcohol shenanigans are my absolute favourite.

🌌

irt when and how each of the nxx team first drank alcohol

hi, milkyway :DDD

i gotta keep u guys on ur toes!!! funnies one second, strained relationship with vyn's father in the next second, HAHA.

i did try to temper vyn's section with marius being a loveable pain in the ass and kjBKSJKF UR RIGHT!! idk anything about winetasting, both how it supposedly works and how it's supposedly ease to fool winetasters, but if marius manages to convince vyn that this 5stellin bottle of wine is tooootally a renowned vintage from a little unknown town in italy, well. marius is never gonna let vyn live that down.

but yep, ive been on a kick lately of thinking about vyn's relationship with his dad. i watched vyn's bday2 ssr where his dad shows up but i watched it when i had covid HAHA so my memory is kinda fuzzy but overall there was just this vibe like......it's not an unsalvageable relationship, but it's one that has vibes from vyn that are like "why are you here i dislike you i do not want to see you" and vibes from dad de haspran that are like "i wish i was a better father." or maybe that was my covid symptoms talking, i'll have to rewatch the card HAHA.

beer sucks!! IT SUCKS, IT TASTES SO BAD I HATE IT!!! but also when i was a teenager, beer was like the most common alcohol to know about? also the easiest to buy and smuggle places esp if ur Not Sposed To Have It. shoutout to that legendary student in my high school who apparently filled their jug with some kind of alcoholic drink and took swigs of it in class and did not get caught. insane behavior but also rlly impressive!!!

luke and mc dont stay away from all beers after that, but they never drink that specific brand ever again. and in general, beers r just on thin ice. luke, once hes got his bartending experience, can mix drinks that taste waaaaay better

JSBFKJSD WAIT UR RIGHT LOL, this hc in conjunction with SSR Atmospherics creates that hilarious reaction from artem. he panic texts celestine before coming into the office in the last bit of that story like "Does she look disgusted by the general order of the world and maybe the entire concept of who I am as a person?" and celestine texts back "She mostly just looks sleepy, lol"

and all i will say about marius is this: BLEH!!!!!

glad u liked the hc post hehe :3!!!

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Life With You Makes Perfect Sense (You're My Best Friend)

TimKon Fanfic

Read on AO3 or Read my other works here

For context: this takes place during the time when Stephanie Brown was Robin after Tim's dad figured out his identity and made him retire. In the comics, Conner finds this out by coming to Gotham to look for Tim when he fails to show up at Titan's Tower and bumping into Robin Steph. Batman refuses to give Conner Tim's address but tells him that he has all the same skills Superman has to find him himself. Conner tracks down Tim's voice and confronts him in his bedroom. In the comics, he ends up leaving and doesn't appear to hear from Tim again until he comes back to the Robin role. This fic takes place as a sort of "what-if" to fill in that missing time.

I took the dialogue in italics from the first and last scenes directly from my copy of the TPB Teen Titans: Beast Boys & Girls (2005), though the body language that goes with the dialogue and everything else in the fic is mine.

Title comes from Tim McGraw's "My Best Friend"

Tim woke up clinging to the whisps of a dream that fled from the screeching of his alarm. As he blinked himself back to consciousness, he grasped vainly for the subject of the dream and was left feeling inexplicably wistful.

His fumbling fingers managed to silence the alarm, but there was still the unfortunate matter of having to heave himself out of bed, his limbs feeling heavier and more uncooperative than they had in weeks. Apparently, all the extra sleep he’d been getting since he retired still wasn’t enough to make Monday mornings suck any less.

He pushed away the traitorous voice in the back of his head that suggested that maybe his exhaustion had something to do with his conversation with Conner the other night.

Conner had shown up unannounced and asking questions Tim hadn’t expected to have to answer again. “Why didn’t you show at the tower yesterday? And what’s with this new Robin? The girl?”

“Last week…” Tim paused, trying to decide how best to make Conner understand. “My dad found my costume. He found out I was Robin, and he went a little—” Tim paused, unsure, “—overboard. I’ve been wanting to tell him for months anyway.”

Conner turned his head towards where he could hear Jack moving around, easily locking onto his vitals. “He seems totally relaxed now. His heart rate is normal and—”

Tim glanced back at Conner nervously, but still refused to look at him head on. “I quit.”

“You what?” Conner exclaimed.

“I’m not Robin anymore. I gave it up.”

“Why?” Conner couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was hearing.

Tim tried to explain, needing Conner to understand. His approval felt vital in that moment. “I never liked living two lives. I never planned on doing it for this long. And I never wanted to lie to my dad. Now I don’t have to anymore.”

Conner shook his head in denial. “Come on. You can’t do this to the Titans. That girl isn’t… She’s not Robin.”

Tim wanted to stop thinking about that night, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t. The look on Conner’s face when Tim told him he wasn’t coming back to the Titans, how Conner refused to meet Tim’s eyes when he talked about how much he and the other Titans needed Tim, not just Robin. All of it. After all, what right did Conner have to come in and tell Tim how to live his life? Conner was born into this, he didn’t have a Before to compare the hero life to. He didn’t understand what it was like to be torn between two halves of himself.

At that thought, Tim paused about halfway through pulling on a shirt, and immediately felt guilty for even thinking it. Conner had just found out he was half Lex Luthor after all. He was probably the only person Tim knew who would understand exactly how Tim felt being stuck between his Dad and Bruce since the truth came out.

Tim pulled the shirt on the rest of the way with a mental sigh. He wasn’t really mad at Conner. Things had changed really quickly, and the other boy had made a lot of good points. As he ran through the rest of his morning routine, Tim’s mind continued its highlight reel.

“Let it go.”

“You’re my best friend, Tim. How can I? The Titans aren’t the Titans without Robin. They just aren’t.”

“Just because I’m not wearing a cape doesn’t mean we can’t hang.”

For the first time since Tim had explained his motivation, Conner finally met his eyes again. The resignation there made Tim’s throat tighten. “It won’t be the same. I’ve heard that from too many friends. Friends I never talk to anymore.”

And Conner wasn’t wrong. When was the last time he had talked to Cissie? Sure, he still got the occasional update on what she was up to from Cassie on Titans weekends, but that wasn’t the same. It was so easy to lose touch with people who left the hero game. Hell, he hadn’t even spoken to Dick since he quit, and they had supposedly been brothers.

Conner had every right to be worried. But what else was he supposed to do? There was nothing else he could have done to protect everyone’s identities, and it wasn’t like his Dad was about to let him go to group hangouts with a bunch of superteens.

Tim mulled it over as he mechanically choked down a bowl of cereal. His dad had been pretty adamant about the no contact thing, and Tim was trying to be the respectful son his dad deserved. But Conner wasn’t something Tim was willing to sacrifice for his new mission. Besides, what was the harm in just staying touch, it’s not like he was putting himself in danger.

Still, it was probably better safe than sorry. If he got his hands on a computer at school, it wouldn’t be hard to track down the Kents’ phone number. Then it was just a matter of waiting for Dad and Dana to be out long enough for him to have sole access to the landline.

Yeah, Tim thought as he threw his bowl and the sink and headed out to catch his bus, that would work. It would be enough. It had to. Tim just wished he didn’t feel like he was betraying his dad all over again.

-0-

If anyone could read his mind right now, they would be impressed by the amount of self-restraint Conner was exercising to control his strength as well as he was despite how frustrated he was. Unfortunately, poor Lottie the Cow could not read his mind, and, unlike Krypto, she wasn’t hiding any secret Kryptonian powers of her own.

After the third time he used just a tad too much pressure in his attempts to milk her and she shied away from him yet again, he had to concede defeat. As he swapped out with Pa (who was all too willing to pass off the stall mucking), Conner let himself feel the indignation he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he spoke to Tim.

It just wasn’t right! Anyone with eyes could see how much Tim loved being Robin. Conner knew how much pride he took in being able to hold his own against some of the most powerful people on the planet. How Tim’s heartrate still sped up with excitement every time he swung off a building or when he flew with Conner.

His dad wanted him to be normal so bad? What was more normal than a teen managing to sneak out without their guardian knowing or taking their dad’s car out for a joyride with their friends. So what if the car was a Batmobile or if the adult he was sneaking past was a Tamaranean princess?

And the worst part was that he wasn’t even mad at Tim, not really. Sure, he had been pissed in the moment, but mostly he was just hurt. They had all finally gotten back to normal, and now Tim was leavingagain. It just wasn’t fair. Conner just wanted his best friend back, but every time they got over one hurdle another one showed up. And this was something Conner couldn’t punch.

“If you shovel any harder, you’re going to snap the end off again.”

Conner whirled around, barely managing not to break the poor tool in his surprise. Martha just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, a full basket of chicken eggs resting on her hip. “You want to tell me what’s eating you?”

Conner didn’t meet her eyes, just grabbed the now full bucket of manure to take it to the compost. “It’s nothing, Aunt Martha.”

Her brow wrinkled in concern, which was not what Conner had wanted at all. She took another moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Well… I know you don’t owe me your thoughts son, and I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to do what you and Clark do.” She started walking alongside Conner before continuing. “But I have raised one Kryptonian and I can listen with the best of them. So, if you need to get something off your chest…”

Dumping the bucket into the compost, Conner almost refused out of habit. Instead, he hesitated, casting his eyes to the side as he grasped for an answer. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. “It’s kinda a long story…” the note of disappointment in his voice seemed to surprise both of them. Martha didn’t miss a step as she steered them back towards the house. She too glanced at the rising sun and then sent Conner an appraising look. “hmmm… School is important. It would be a shame if you had woken up ill this morning and couldn’t attend.”

Conner felt himself gaping like a fish as he followed her inside.

-0-

Tim was pretending not to notice Dana hovering when the doorbell rang.

And wasn’t that a fun situation. Tim wasn’t quite sure how much Dana knew. He knew his dad hadn’t told her about Robin, as per the arrangement. But he wasn’t sure what story she’d been given instead, or, more likely, if she’d just been left to draw her own conclusions.

Regardless, she clearly knew Tim had been hiding something because she had been acting strangely ever since. Making excuses to keep him in view, asking much more probing questions about his day and who he was spending it with, checking out parenting books on “troubled teens.”

She hadn’t said anything to Tim about whatever it was she thought was going on, but she had always been over-protective of Tim. Sure it could occasionally cross over into infantilizing, but, after a lifetime of people only worrying about Tim’s wellbeing when it affected them, it was kinda nice to have a parent care so openly.

Still, this was starting to get ridiculous. It wasn’t like he was running a drug empire from the kitchen table, and writing an English essay while someone keeps sneaking glances at you while cleaning the stovetop wasn’t exactly easy.

So, the doorbell was a welcome distraction.

While Dana rose to answer the door, Tim tried to focus back on his paper, as if he could make it write itself with the force of his glare. However, there was no amount of effort that would ever keep him from recognizing that voice.

He was at the door before he even realized he’d made the decision.

“—don’t know why he didn’t mention it, ma’am, we made these plans last week.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m really comfortable with letting you boys go without clearing it with Jack fir—"

Tim peeked around Dana’s shoulder to see Conner Kent, glasses and all, staring up at his stepmom with an almost comically earnest expression. “Dana?”

She glanced back at Tim, not letting go of the half-open door. “Your friend—”

“Conner,” the boy in question supplied helpfully.

“Right,” she said with a forced smile, “Your friend, Conner, was just telling me that you two made plans to get together to study tonight? Tim, honey, you know your Dad wants you to let him know before you make plans to go out with people we don’t know.”

Tim did know. It was one of many new rules that his dad had decided to implement after he found his Robin gear. The restrictions chafed, but, as his dad pointed out, he definitely deserved the lack of trust at this point.

But when he caught the cocky “play along” grin over Dana’s shoulder, Tim stomach filled with warmth at the familiarity. He quickly schooled his expression into an appropriately sheepish smile. “Sorry Dana, I guess it just slipped my mind.”

Dana softened, her grip on the door slackening just a tad.

“If it helps, Mrs. Drake,” Conner broke in, “we can just study here.”

Tim wondered if Conner had learned the earnest and polite young man routine from watching Clark or if it was just natural talent. Either way it was enough for Dana, leading her to relax and open the door completely.

“Oh, that would be perfect! Tim, honey, why don’t you get you and your friend set up at the table? Will you be staying for dinner, Conner? We’re having Chinese tonight, and it’d be no problem to order an extra serving.”

“That would be great, Mrs. Drake!”

Dana headed back towards the kitchen, presumably looking for the takeout menus, leaving Tim and Conner in awkward silence. Tim decided to break the tension first.

“I’m sorry, Conner, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you were just trying to help.”

“Wait, that’s supposed to be my line! I’m sorry, Tim. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t think you could make your own decisions.”

“So, still friends?”

“Please! You didn’t think I’d come all the way to Gotham to ditch you now, did you?”

“Why did you come? If that was it, why not just come in the window?”

Conner shifted his weight, hand tightening minutely around the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Well, I was talking to Ma earlier, and she helped me realize that even if Robin can’t hang out with Superboy, that doesn’t mean Conner Kent can’t spend time with Tim Drake.” He looked up from his shoes, his blue eyes putting the Gotham sky to shame. “That is… if it’s okay with you?”

If you had asked Conner, Tim’s answering grin could have lit up even the darkest Gotham alley.

-0-

Fifteen minutes later found Tim and Conner side by side at the kitchen table, various homework from various subjects strewn out about. Leaning over under the guise of checking Conner’s math, Tim murmured under his breath for only Conner to hear: “So Conner Kent wears flannel now?”

Conner snorted. “I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing they sell in Smallville,” he whispered back. “Why? You a fan?”

“To be honest… I miss the leather,” he replied thoughtlessly.

“Is that so?” Tim realized what he’d said out loud a moment too late. “I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” Tim replied with a little shove that did absolutely nothing but prompt Conner to break out into full body laughter so loud it drew Dana in from the living room to see what was going on.

When she found a blushing Tim whispering back furiously and sending her embarrassed looks, she let out a chuckle of her own before leaving them to it. She had a good feeling about this kid.

-0

It quickly became routine for Conner to come by after school to do homework a few days a week. Tim had worried that it might have been getting Conner in trouble, but Conner had assured him that he had worked things out with ‘Ma so that he still got all his chores done in spite of the extra hours he was putting in Gotham. And as for Batman, well, if he didn’t want him coming to Gotham to see Tim, he shouldn’t have told him how to find him.

And at least he wasn’t dangling the latest Robin in mid-air anymore.

Whether by fate or weird coincidence, however, he still hadn’t managed to run into Jack Drake while he was monopolizing his son’s time yet. The first night Conner stayed for dinner had ended with them all waiting for half an hour after the food arrived before Jack remembered to call and let Dana know he would be working late. It wasn’t the last time either. And the nights he did come home for dinner were the nights where Conner had already planned to head home early to have dinner with his own family.

Not to say Conner minded. He had some thoughtsabout Jack Drake and the way he treated his son. It was probably better for everyone that Conner spent as little time with the man as possible.

But there was only so long that could last, especially since Tim was practically dying to get out of the house for more than just school or Jack’s father-son excursions.

Unfortunately, as time went on Jack had only gotten more paranoid about where Tim was going and what he was doing, not less. Lately, Tim was practically on lockdown since it was such a pain to get permission to go anywhere without his dad or Dana. The last time he had gone out to the diner with Bernard and Darla his Dad had “just happened” to stop by for a to-go coffee. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been making sure Tim really was where he said he was.

His only saving grace was Dana. While she still enforced his dad’s rules (apparently not wanting to undermine his parenting), Tim had overheard her arguing on his behalf with his dad on multiple occasions, insisting that Tim was a good kid who had earned a little bit of freedom. Granted, these conversations rarely accomplished much besides getting Jack to dismiss her concerns as a lack of understanding due to not having children of her own. Still, Tim appreciated the support. Particularly since Dana had clearly decided that she liked Conner and essentially left them to their own devices while they were “studying.”

Now in addition to actually doing their homework, they were able to spend time talking about the rest of their lives, especially the normal civilian stuff they never seemed to have time for during Titans weekends. Everything from friendships, to TV shows, to their relationships with their parents was fair game. Tim had felt like he knew Conner before, but this was a whole new level. And the more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

And that’s why he had recruited Dana.

It hadn’t been hard. For once in his life, being completely honest with an authority figure about what he wanted was enough. It probably shouldn’t have felt as weird as it did.

Dana had given him a strange look when he mentioned he wanted to hang out with Conner outside of studying, but she had agreed that she didn’t see a problem with it. After all, if his father was alright with him spending time with Bernard (who Dana knew firsthand was not exactly the best of influences) then surely he would be okay with Tim spending more time with “a nice young man” like Conner. He just needed to meet him first.

It would be fine. Probably.

And that was how the two of them had ended up setting the dining table while Dana put the finishing touches on what she assured Tim was Jack’s favorite meal.

“Dude, you’ve got to take a breath,” Conner whispered as he reached around Tim. “I’ve heard your heart beat slower going up against literal mercenaries.”

Tim snorted. “I’ll take Deathstroke over this any day.”

“Hey now,” he shot back with a scandalized hand to his chest, “I’ll have you know I am delightful company!”

Tim’s futile attempts at a mock glare were interrupted when he could no longer hold back the urge to giggle at the absurdity of the situation. He could go up against the worst the world had to offer without thinking twice, but the idea of his dad and his best friend in the same room had him on the verge of a panic attack.

He shot Conner a grateful smile. “I just really need this to go well.”

Conner slung a careless arm around Tim’s shoulder but spoke with a level of seriousness he rarely let people see. “And it will, I promise. We make a good team, remember? We can handle this.”

Tim nodded and drew in some deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. Conner didn’t say anything else, just let him take the minute he needed. Just as Tim had gotten a hold of himself and was about to gently shrug off Conner’s arm, Conner pulled away of his own accord with a parting squeeze of Tim’s shoulder.

“He’s here,” he explained, gesturing to the front door with his chin as he finished off the last place setting.

Sure enough, a moment later Tim heard the telltale click of a key in a lock. There was a very slight possibility that his breathing may have quickened again just a bit if the bemused look Conner sent him was any indication.

Tim most definitely did not stick his tongue out at his friend before heading to the entryway to take his dad’s coat.

Conner and his snicker followed a beat behind Tim. When Jack’s gaze finally landed on Conner, Conner felt his spine straighten involuntarily. Jack didn’t say anything at first, and in the stretching silence Conner felt himself trying to channel every bit of the big blue boy scout he had in him.

Jack’s eyes cast over every bit of Conner’s appearance, from his glasses to his button up to his clean but scuffed sneakers. Conner was uncomfortably reminded of being a literal lab specimen under observation.

Suddenly, Jack’s expression morphed into a charming smile Conner didn’t trust for an instant. He stuck out a hand, and Conner was so caught off guard by the sudden transition that he almost forgot to shake it.

“You must be Tim’s friend. Carter, right?”

“Er—”

“It’s Conner, Dad.”

Jack waved Tim’s correction away. “Right, right, Conner then.” He started walking off to the living room, clearly expecting them to follow. “Dana tells me that you’ve been coming over to study quite a bit lately. I hope your grades have seen a better uptick than Tim’s have.”

Conner sent a questioning glance Tim’s way but didn’t get a response other than the visible tension in the other boy’s jaw.

“Not really sure what the point of a study group is if it doesn’t actually raise your grades any,” Jack continued.

Assuming that the biting comment was rhetorical and feeling supremely awkward, Conner didn’t respond right away. But as the three of them each pulled up a chair, Jack’s impatient expression clued Conner in on the fact that he was actually supposed to answer.

“Er…yes sir. I’ve been really lucky to have Tim’s help getting caught up.”

Jack was saved from responding beyond a noncommittal hmm by Dana’s arrival with the food. As she placed the casserole dish of what looked like enchiladas on the table, Dana gave them all a forced smile.

“And it’s been so nice getting to know one of Tim’s friends, Conner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drake.”

“So how did you and Tim start hanging out?” Jack questioned absently.

They had prepped for this question. Conner used the opportunity to launch into an overdramatic retelling of a group project they had worked on together and how they realized that they worked well together. Like all the best lies, it included just enough details not to be suspicious while still having a kernel of truth.

His story succeeded in breaking the ice enough to get conversation started, and Conner felt himself relaxing. He had meant what he said to Tim earlier, but he didn’t exactly meet that many new civilians. But Tim had prepared him well, and this wasn’t his first undercover op. He skillfully navigated around dangerous truths and gave the performance of his life as the perfect All-American teen.

Maybe he should have felt guilty about lying to these people who had opened their home to him. Clark probably would have had something to say about it. After all, on paper Jack had every right to be upset. His son had literally been throwing himself in front of bullets for strangers for years behind his back. Not only that, but he’d been doing it alongside another adult he had trusted to have his son’s best interests at heart. Surely any good parent would have been just as upset, right?

But Conner was very aware that Jack Drake was not the parent he believed himself to be.

Good parents didn’t ship their kid off to boarding schools from the minute he was old enough to attend, and then never show up for the few weeks their kid is home.

Good parents don’t look at everything that makes you you and try to sand it away so that you’ll fit some perfect ideal they have in their head of what you should be.

Good parents don’t look at the emotional scars and bruises they’ve given to their child and tell them that its their own fault for making them do this, for not being enough or for being too much.

Jack Drake may not have laid a hand on his son, but he’d still done plenty of damage, and Conner was forced to watch Tim thank him for it.

So, no. Conner didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for lying to the man who constantly left his favorite person more confused and conflicted than any mystery Batman had ever handed to him.

Tim may not realize that he deserved better yet, but that was alright. Conner would flatter and charm and play meek and responsible without feeling a single thing if it made Tim’s life easier.

As the conversation shifted to what was new with Dana’s sister and her kids, Conner met Tim’s eyes again. Tim subtly tipped his glass approvingly toward Conner, and Conner sent back an answering wink.

Well, he corrected internally, maybe he’d feel one thing after all.

-0

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for its tourist attractions. It was kind of a risky financial decision to try to open anything that encouraged a lot of people to congregate in a city where crowds drew Rogues like killer moths to a flamethrower. And that went double for anything that could be construed as children’s entertainment.

Luckily, Gothamites were both stubborn and spiteful, so there were a few places, like the traveling carnival currently set up near the harbor, that popped up every now and then with that brilliant fuck you energy that so clearly defined the city.

After last week’s dinner got off to its admittedly awkward start, Conner had hit his stride. Seamlessly switching between the perfect “aw shucks, me?” smile when asked a question about himself and then an earnest “tell me more about…” to turn the conversation back to Jack’s interests, Conner would have earned even the Batman’s reluctant approval.

By the end of the night, Jack was riding the high of getting to speak about himself to a willing audience for so long. It was all too easy to get Jack’s permission for Tim to hang out with Conner outside the house… as long as he still made sure to call and check in on the hour, of course.

Tim hadn’t hesitated to get them tickets for the second night the carnival was in town (not wanting to tempt a Rogue’s attack on the first), and the night had finally arrived.

Now, sharing a seat on the ferris wheel with the other teen, Tim couldn’t understand why he’d been so worried. He’d always been the first to insist that there was so much more to Conner than people gave him credit for.

Tim found himself glancing at Conner out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, the other boy was too busy leaning over the railing to watch the sun set behind the city skyline.

Most people looked at Superboy and saw a brash, arrogant, and (if he was lucky) comical teenager. They dismissed him as the brawn to other Titans’ brains. They couldn’t understand how he could be so different from Superman.

Tim knew better than that. Sure, he could be all those things, but what teenager wasn’t? Especially considering all the shit the authority figures in his life had put him through. And yeah, he was funny too.

But Conner was also a damn good friend. He was loyal and brave and empathetic and fiercely protective of the people who had earned his respect. He paid attention to people, and he cared so deeply, even though he tried to cover it up with nonchalance and a confident façade. He might be bulletproof, but Tim would protect that vulnerability he saw until the day he died.

“Alright. Where’d you go?”

Pulled back into the moment rather suddenly, Tim was startled, but he didn’t have to worry about coming up with a suitably mysterious response here. “What?”

Conner snorted and raised one hand to slide his sunglasses just far enough down the bridge of his nose that he could meet Tim’s eyes.

“You’re looking at me weird. What’s up?”

As Tim tried to decide how to answer in a way that wasn’t completely cheesy, the ferris wheel paused again, this time with the two of them at the very top.

“I just—I’m just really glad you’re here. Thanks for coming to Gotham.” He didn’t just mean today either. He meant all of it. The first time he came to find out why Robin wasn’t at the tower, the time he showed up at Tim’s door even what would have chased anyone else away, and every other time they had hung out since.

He didn’t have to specify that though. The blinding smile that broke out over Conner’s face made it clear the message was received.

Conner took a moment, trying to school his expression into something a little smoother, but it was a lost cause. Eventually he just settled for clearing his throat. “You don’t have to thank me, Tim. There’s no place I’d rather be. Besides,” he continued as he casually threw an arm across the back of Tim’s seat, “everyone knows Gotham has the best sunsets.”

His heart pounding, Tim took a deep breath and let himself sink into Conner’s side. For a second, Conner stiffened and Tim worried that he’d made a horrible mistake, that he’d ruined everything.

It was only when he felt the comforting weight of Conner’s arm move from the seat to wrap around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him closer, that Tim let himself believe that this could be okay. They could have this.

The leather of Conner’s jacket was cool against the side of Tim’s face. The sky was a brilliant mess of golds and reds and purples. And Tim was with the person who made him feel safer and more himself than anyone else on the planet.

“Yeah, I suppose we do, don’t we?”

-0

That evening, Tim sat down on his bed, pulling his camera out of his bag. He was looking forward to developing them. Maybe he’d give Conner a few of the shots if they were any good.

knock knock

Tim looked up to see Dana leaning up against the doorframe she had knocked on.

“Hey, Honey. Did y’all have a good time?”

Tim couldn’t have held back the smile if he’d tried. “Oh yeah, it was awesome!”

Dana smiled back just as warmly. “Oh, I’m so glad!” Tim believed her. That was the best thing about Dana, she was one of the most genuine people he knew, and for some reason Tim couldn’t fathom, she had always seemed to care so much about Tim.

“Do you mind if I come in, sweetheart? There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about…”

-0

“I swear to god I used to be good at keeping secrets,” Tim groaned as he allowed his head to thunk dramatically against the diner table.

Conner didn’t look up from his menu, but he did use his TTK to save their waters from tipping over. “Sure you were,” he deadpanned.

“I was literally trained in deception and resistance to interrogation by one of the best detectives in the world.”

“Yup.”

“She still doesn’t know I was Robin. Neither of them have made the very obvious connections between you and a certain Boy of Steel for some reason.

“It’s the glasses.”

“It is not the glasses.”

“It is,” he said. “Conner Kent wears glasses, and Superboy doesn’t. Therefore, obviously different people.” His forehead crinkled. “Do you think a sweet potato milkshake would be any good?”

“It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve ever eaten.” Tim squinted back up suspiciously from where he was still sprawled on the table. “Also, I feel like you are not being nearly sympathetic enough to my plight.”

Conner finally gave up the pretense of looking at the menu and dropped his chin to rest on his hands on the tabletop, so his face was only a few inches from Tim’s long-suffering expression.

Unfortunately for Tim’s dignity, Conner’s crooked grin was infectious. “How long did it take her to figure it out?”

“Ugh, she apparently she knew the minute she saw me, but at least she promised not to tell Dad.”

Conner snickered.

“Don’t laugh! She tried to give me the talk, Conner!”

That just sent Conner into full-body cackles. Tim watched him throw his head back and couldn’t help but feel proud. He did that. But he wasn’t done pouting yet either. It was the principle of the thing, after all.

“Sorry—” Conner gasped, “Sorry babe!” He leaned forward to place a kiss to Tim’s forehead, reveling in the way his boyfriend blushed so immediately. “You can hide just about anything else, sure, but you’ve got absolutely no poker face when you’re happy.”

Tim grumbled good naturedly like the absolute gremlin he was before finally deciding to sit up when a rather unimpressed waitress stopped by to take their order.

When she walked off, Conner turned back to Tim, casually taking one of Tim’s hands in his as though they weren’t both still completely in awe of this new development.

“So…” Conner started. “You were supposed to get together with your Wizards & Warlocks friends over the weekend, right? How’d that go?”

Tim’s eyes lit up as he started telling Conner about the most recent developments to their current campaign. Conner did his best to make sense of all of the characters and jargon he had no reference for, since it clearly meant a lot to Tim. Though that was made a little trickier by how much fun he was having just watching Tim.

He rarely got to see him so animated, due to the expectations constantly heaped on Robin and Tim Drake alike. When talking about something he enjoyed, however, Tim came alive. So, Conner listened, asking real questions that sparked off another tangent every time he started running out of steam.

Conner wondered if Tim’s eyes had always sparkled that much when they were hidden behind a mask. He didn’t think so, but either way he was just grateful Tim trusted him enough to let him see.

-0

“So then Ives—oh, Dana, can you pass the bread? thanks—Ives ended up rolling a Nat 20 on persuasion, which completely messed with my pla—”

“Alright, alright, I’m about tapped out on Witches & Wizards—” Jack interrupted, his hands raised in a timeout gesture.

“Jack!” Dana admonished.

“It’s actually Wizards & Warlocks, Dad.”

“Whatever it’s called! There’s only so much of this I can hear before my brain rots.”

Tim forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dad.”

Jack waved away the apology with his buttered roll. “Forget about it. Hey, how’s your school’s basketball team this year? I was thinking we would go to the game this Friday, just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Tim said, “I don’t really know. Umm… what time is the game? Because I already made plans to go see a movie with Conner on Friday before he has to go away for the weekend for some family stuff.”

Jack frowned and Tim found himself straightening up involuntarily. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that Conner kid. What’s up with that?” he asked accusatorily.

Wary of stumbling into a trap he couldn’t see, Tim tried to feign a casualness he didn’t feel. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized we have a lot in common, but I hang out with a lot of people. Why do you ask?”

This apparently wasn’t enough for Jack because he didn’t let it go, even putting his fork down so he could make sure his full attention was on Tim. “You don’t though! You almost never talk about Bernard anymore, or that Darla girl! The wizards thing was weird enough, but now if it’s not that then it’s Conner this or Conner that! If you’re not careful, you’re gonna give people the wrong idea about the two of you.”

The tightening in Tim’s throat would have been painful if it weren’t for the numbness he felt sinking into his bones.

“And now you’re suddenly too good to hang out with your dad anymore? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m concerned about the person you’re becoming lately.”

“No! No, Dad it’s not like that—”

Tim looked at a wide-eyed Dana desperately for help. Ever ready to defend Tim when he needed, Dana didn’t disappoint.

“Oh, Jack, honey,” she laughed a little too loudly, “leave the poor boy be. He’s a good kid, and it’s healthy for a teenage boy to want to spend more time with his friends! I don’t see the harm in it. Honestly, shouldn’t we be proud of him for honoring his commitments?”

Jack’s glare was as hard as steel and just as cold. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t be proud of. I think I know how to parent my son.”

Dana broke eye-contact first, and Jack seemed to be the only one immune to the rising tension. Eventually he paused his meal consideringly. “Though I suppose you do have a point, Dana. Tim and I will just have to go to the next game, hmm?”

Grateful for the out, Tim nodded quickly. “Sounds great, Dad.”

-0

Tim had been looking forward to seeing this movie since he’d seen the first preview, but he hadn’t been paying attention at all for the last ten minutes. Oh well, he could come back and watch it again later, maybe with the guys in his W&W group.

In the meantime, it was definitely worth the sacrifice. Kissing Conner in the back row of the theatre, Tim had never felt more like a normal teenager in his life. This might be just as fun as running over rooftops.

-0

Conner swung Tim’s hand back and forth between them as they walked, feeling a bit like a little kid. Most people probably would have been on edge walking through the streets of Gotham right after sunset, but most people weren’t literally bulletproof.

As it was, Conner would have been content to stay out there all night if it meant he got to keep holding Tim’s hand while he chattered about the photos he had taken on their last outing to the botanical gardens and how they had turned out. Conner had learned more about camera lenses in the last ten minutes than he had in his life, and he was loving it.

Unfortunately, the Titans would be expecting him in an hour or so, and Tim’s dad would probably take exception to his son being out all night under mysterious circumstances. So, it was with a heavy sigh that Conner finally arrived at the Drake’s brownstone.

The boys came to a stop before reaching the front steps, neither ready for the night to end. Conner leaned forward to press his forehead to rest against Tim’s.

“You know,” he whispered, “I know I said I wanted Robin to come back to the Titans —and don’t get me wrong, I would still love that— but I’m also kinda loving having you all to myself.”

Tim chuckled and when that laugh turned into a crooked grin that made Conner’s stomach flutter, he couldn’t resist kissing it back off.

WHAM

Tim and Conner jumped apart as the door to the brownstone slammed open. Jack glared down at them.

“Tim. Get in this house, right now.” When Tim hesitated to move, Jack’s tone only grew even more demanding. “I said get in this house Timothy Jackson Drake.”

The sound of his full name seemed to spark Tim back to life, as he scrambled back towards the house. Conner gently caught one of Tim’s hands just before he was out of reach, and the other boy looked at him like a started deer.

“Do you want me to…” Conner trailed off with a meaningful hand wave at the side of his head. Do you want me to listen in, he was asking.

Tim thought about it for a second before shaking his head. “But maybe don’t go far?”

Conner nodded decisively before meeting Jack’s hateful gaze defiantly for just a moment. He shoved his fists into his jacket pockets before storming off to the corner. As soon as he was out of view, however, he took advantage of Gotham’s perpetual lighting problem to fly up to the roof of the house next to Tim’s, ready to be there the minute Tim needed him.

He settled in to wait, trying to focus on anything but the shouting coming from the Drake residence.

It was probably took longer than it should have for Conner to realize he wasn’t alone, but, hey, he was distracted. Sue him.

“You can come out. I can hear your heartbeat.”

Black Bat unfurled from where she had blended perfectly into the shadows cast by the air-conditioning unit.

“What are you doing here?” Conner asked.

Cass joined him in sitting on the edge of the roof to watch the brownstone. “A while ago…there was a killer…hunting the last robin. I still check in.”

“Every night?”

“No…but most nights.”

Conner considered that for a moment. “So, I’m guessing you saw…?”

“Yes.” Conner thought he could detect a playful edge to her voice. “You are not very subtle.” Okay, no, he was definitely being teased.

trying to play along, he bumped her shoulder with his own. “Well, we can’t all be bat-level sneaky. The universe couldn’t take it. Some of us have to be showy enough to balance the rest of you out.”

Cass hummed consideringly. “That’s fine. Batman will… train it out of you.”

Conner let himself fall back dramatically in mock horror, and Cass giggled. The sound did not match the mask at all, but somehow the juxtaposition seemed fitting for a member of the bat family.

“It’s how he shows his love, promise.”

Conner smiled, the tension of the moment briefly eclipsed by the mental image of the Batman trying to mother-hen a super. Clark would never let him live it down.

Suddenly, movement drew his eye, and Conner saw Tim. Ready to hear the verdict, Conner rose to fly back down.

“Thanks,” he turned to say, only to find himself met with an empty roof.

Bats, man.

-0

Tim followed Jack into the house, his heart pounding so hard Clark could probably hear it in Metropolis. His lips and fingers felt weirdly tingly before going slightly numb. His brain was going a million miles an hour but his body just felt slightly distant.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He wasn’t ready for this, it was supposed to be on his terms. But it was happening and it was happening now.

Jack stormed into the living room where Dana was half-risen in concern. She froze at the thunderous expression on his face as Jack being to pace the room like a caged lion. Meanwhile, Tim was a stone statue standing just in the room’s entrance. He felt a little bit like one of the artifacts his parents had brought back as souvenirs from their travels, just another relic meant to show off to friends that just ended up cluttering an empty house. And were Tim’s ears ringing?

“What the fuck did I just see, Tim?!” Jack burst out.

“Dad, I—”

“Don’t you fucking dare try to talk yourself out of this. Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?!”

“No! Of cour—”

“Jack, honey, whatever this is about, maybe we—”

Dana’s attempts to calm Jack only seemed to enrage him more, and she was cut off by the CRASH that came from Jack pitching one of her vases across the room. She froze, her eyes darting between Tim and Jack.

“Do you want to tell her what you’ve been doing behind our backs, Tim, or should I?”

“I—Conner and I--We” Tim sputtered unintelligibly, but Dana got the gist. She closed her eyes for a moment too long in sympathy, and Jack’s fury turned on her in an instant.

“You knew? You knew what was happening, and you didn’t put a stop to it?”

“Jack! There’s nothing wro…”

Her voice trailed off as Jack stalked closer and closer to her chair until he towered over her. She shrunk down. Jack leaned down over her and braced himself on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping his wife.

“Do you even care about what this could do to us?” His voice had gone low and picked up a dangerous quality that reminded Tim of the way Batman spoke to criminals he interrogated. But Tim had never been afraid of Batman.

He went on, his head tilted mockingly. “Or, are you just too stupid and selfish to realize how this reflects back on me?”

And, as he watched Dana start to shake, something in Tim snapped.

He was across the room in an instant, wrenching Jack’s arm behind his back so that he was forced to step back and turn around to keep it from breaking. The second Jack let go of Dana’s chair, Tim shoved him stumbling in the opposite direction.

“Leave her alone.”

Jack spun back around. “Did you just shove me?” he asked in pure outrage.

Tim’s chin raised defiantly. “I told you I could, didn’t I?”

At the reminder of the night Jack found out about Robin, Jack’s face twisted back into something ugly.

“So what?! I risk my life to save you from those freaks the first time, and this is the thanks I get? How the hell is anyone supposed to take me seriously when my son is—”

“I didn’t ASK you to save me, Dad!” Tim shouted. Years and years of bottling his resentment and frustration had led to an inevitable explosion, and Tim didn’t care who got burned. “I loved being Robin, I loved getting to help people, and getting to show what I can do. I worked so hard to earn Robin, and I gave it up to make you happy and I still can’t do anything right for you. I am so sick of pretending to be someone I’m not in the hopes that maybe someday it’ll finally be enough for you.”

“Tim—”

“No! It’s my turn now!” Tim’s words were acid. If he didn’t get them out now, they would burn him from the inside out. “I will never be the perfect kid you and Mom thought you deserved. I get that now. But I am enough. Bruce thinks so. Dick thinks so. And Conner thinks so too. I am more me with him than I am with anyone else. You already took Robin from me. I won’t let you take this from me too.”

Jack puffed up in rage. Seemingly having forgotten his lesson, he stormed into Tim’s space. Tim took a few steps back on instinct before he came back to himself and planted his feet, forcing Jack to stop to avoid a collision. Their faces were only a few inches apart as they glared at each other.

Tim realized he was almost as tall as his father.

Stubbornly trying to regain the control he could feel slipping through his fingers like water, Jack summoned every bit of authority he had in his body into his tone. “You aren’t seeing him again. This never happens again. Do I make myself clear?”

It was a good effort, but Tim had fought the Justice League. He regularly stared down the worst Gotham had to offer and said not here, not today. There was a lot he was willing to do to keep the peace. But Tim was fed up, and this was one thing he refusedto compromise on.

“No.”

There was nothing as immovable as a Bat who had made up their mind.

Maybe Jack finally recognized that because, for just a moment, Tim thought he saw something like sadness in his father’s eyes before they hardened like steel.

“Then get out.”

Tim blinked, his confusion enough to break through the bubble of anger that had been clouding out all else. “What?”

“I said get out of my house. And don’t come back.”

“Dad—”

“I don’t know who you are anymore. But you aren’t my son. I guess Batman ended up killing him after all.”

Tim’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure whether it was the grief or betrayal that cut worse, but he kinda wished the numbness would come back. He drew in a deep breath, pulling what was left of his anger around him like a shield. Or maybe a cloak.

He spun around on his heel and marched back toward the front door.

The movement seemed to break the trance of confused horror that had held Dana like a vice as she watched the argument unfold like a demented tennis match.

“Tim!” she called after him. She reached out vainly as if that would be enough to close the distance that had opened up between them like a chasm. “Tim, sweetheart!”

Tim couldn’t turn around, but that didn’t make Dana’s heartbroken tone any less painful to hear.

He didn’t stop once he was out of the door until he was halfway down the street. And then, it was only because Conner landed right in front of him.

“Hey, what happened?”

Tim couldn’t answer. He couldn’t make eye contact right now either. But Conner didn’t press him.

“Okay,” he reassured, “that’s okay.” He raised one hand for Tim to take if he wanted. “Can I give you a lift then?”

Tim took the hand.

-0

Tim directed Conner to touch down at the Manor’s front door, not wanting to risk the possibility of Bruce having changed the security codes by now. Even still, he was certain they had tripped some sort of alarm when they flew over the property.

He was proven correct when Alfred pulled open the door before he’d had the chance to knock. If he noticed that Tim still hadn’t let go of Conner’s hand, the butler didn’t say anything.

“Master Timothy! What an excellent surprise!”

Despite everything, Tim found his mouth pulling into a fond smile at the old man. “Hi Alfred. Is Bruce home? I need to talk to him.”

“Right this way, sir!” Alfred said, already pulling the door open, and Conner allowed himself to be pulled along with nothing but a supportive hand squeeze.

Tim felt his heart pounding as he followed Alfred towards what he quickly realized was Bruce’s study. Suddenly unable to bear the silence anymore, Tim burst out: “Alfred, have you met Conner?”

Alfred’s face twitched into what only the bats would recognize as the butler suppressing a fond smile of his own. “I have not, sir. Though I must admit I had guessed.” Addressing Conner directly this time, Alfred continued, “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kent.”

“Oh, uh…” Conner stammered before Martha Kent’s training kicked in. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Alfred hmmd approvingly but left it there. Luckily, Tim was saved from further attempts at small talk by their arrival at the study doors. Alfred bid them goodbye before slipping away with a subtlety Conner had only thought attainable by bats.

Tim drew in a deep breath before knocking hesitatingly on the ornate doors. The “come in!’ came barely a moment later, and Tim pushed them open with the resignation of a convict approaching the gallows.

On any other day, Conner would have been looking around at anything and everything in the office appreciatively. But today he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tim who had gone ramrod straight, his own gaze locked onto the man standing up from his desk at the other end of the room.

Bruce Wayne rose from his desk, in that moment somehow managing to look twice as intimidating in a tailored suit as he ever did as Batman. His eyes roved over both boys, taking in everything from their still intertwined hands to Conner’s civilian garb to the way Tim looked like he might be on the verge of passing out. His face was inscrutable the whole time.

Eventually, Bruce’s gaze met Conner’s own defiant glare. “So…” he drawled in perfect deadpan, “are the glasses genetic, or is the entire caped community conspiring to drive me prematurely gray.”

Tim let out a sudden laugh so strangled Conner was mildly concerned he was choking. Conner could empathize.

Apparently amused by their reaction, the Batman smirked,and Conner’s soul left his body for a moment.

When it became clear that they weren’t going to say anything on their own, Bruce continued. “Well, Conner, something tells me that Tim and I need to have a conversation. Will you be joining us, or do you have somewhere to be,” he asked mildly.

Conner gave Tim a sideways glance, under no delusions about who’s comfort Bruce was really concerned with here. Tim squeezed Conner’s hand one more time before finally letting go, and Conner took that as the dismissal it was.

“Actually, sir, I think better head to San Francisco before Victor starts to wonder where I am.”

Bruce nodded turned his attention to Tim. Conner made sure to supportively squeeze Tim’s shoulder back on his way out. He tried to ignore the part of himself that made him feel like he was abandoning Tim to the lions.

-0

Once Conner had pulled the door shut behind him, Bruce let go of the bit of Batman that had made its appearance the minute the proximity alarms had let him know that someone had flown over the property boundaries.

“Tim.”

Tim still wasn’t making eye contact, his gaze getting no closer than Bruce’s mouth. Bruce resisted the instinct to drop into the Batman voice. While it would be a sure-fire way to get Tim to look at him, it also would do nothing to actually make the kid more comfortable. Tim would assume that it meant he’d done something wrong, and that would just make everything ten times worse.

Instead, Bruce fought to keep his tone as even and gentle as possible. “How about we sit down,” he asked with a gesture toward the twin armchairs by the fire.

Tim nodded stiffly but still wouldn’t speak. Bruce held in his sigh. Just as he reached his own chair, there was another knock on the door, and Alfred pushed his way in without waiting for a response.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Master Bruce, but I thought some soothing tea might be helpful.”

Bruce smiled at the older man. “Thank you, Alfred. That would be great.”

Alfred nodded and brought his tray over to the side table before pouring each of them a cup. As he turned to leave, Tim’s quiet “thanks” was almost inaudible, but Alfred caught it anyway.

“You are most welcome, young man” he replied, making sure to send Bruce a pointed don’t screw this up glance on his way out.

Bruce settled down into the chair next to Tim, their knees almost close enough to touch. Tim’s hands were wrapped so tightly around his teacup that Bruce worried he might shatter it, but he didn’t take so much as a sip.

“Tim. Can you tell me what’s going on, son?”

Tim finally looked up from his cup again, his gaze settling on Bruce’s mouth again.

“I’m not really sure where to start.”

Okay, Bruce could work with that. “Does your Dad know where you are right now?”

Tim snorted humorlessly. “I really don’t think he gives a shit where I am or what I do at this point. He—” Tim broke off to clear his throat before trying again. “He kicked me out.”

There was pure defeat in Tim’s voice, as if he’d always known it was a matter of time, but he still managed to be disappointed anyway. That more than anything filled Bruce with a level of rage rare even for him while simultaneously breaking his heart.

Not trusting himself to speak at first, Bruce instead gently pulled the poor teacup out of Tim’s grasp and took his hands in his own. Tim’s fingers were trembling.

“Because he found out about you and Conner?” he clarified softly, not wanting to risk a faulty assumption when everything was so fragile.

Tim nodded again anyway. “We fought about some other stuff too, but… yeah, it was mostly about that. He saw us together, and—”

Again, Bruce really wanted to shake Jack Drake senseless. It was bad enough he always seemed to take this wonderful kid for granted, but to see a father intentionally hurt his child over something so inconsequential? It was unforgiveable.

“I’m so sorry, Tim. I know how much you wanted this to work out.”

Tim’s eyes filled with tears, and Bruce was pulling him against his chest even before he consciously recognized what he was seeing. As his son fell apart in his arms, Bruce found tears coming to his own eyes as well.

It had always been obvious how desperate Tim was for his father’s affection and approval after being starved for it for so many years. This was the final deathblow to the hope that one day it would be enough.

So, Bruce held his son, running his fingers through his hair. Eventually, Tim had cried himself out and pulled away, his embarrassment clear on his face. Bruce pulled a clean handkerchief (courtesy of Alfred, of course) from his pocket and handed it to a grateful Tim. Once he had pulled himself together, Tim looked back at Bruce, finally meeting his eyes.

“Does this…Does this mean I can come back to the Manor?”

“Oh, chum…” Bruce reached out to cradle one side of Tim’s face in his hand, his thumb reaching out to brush away another rogue tear. “I promise, you will always have a place in my home. Got it?”

“But what about Stephanie? You already have a Robin…”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Well, first of all, your place in this family is not contingent on whether you’re wearing a mask or not. And I’m so sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. You are just as welcome here if you never put a mask on again as you would be if you went out tomorrow.

And secondly,” here he grimaced, “I may or may not have fired her for putting herself in danger after I told her to stay put. So… Robin’s yours if you still want it.”

“And you’re really okay with me dating a guy?”

Bruce chuckled. “Tim, I’ve taken in three boys by now. You think I never considered the possibility that at least one of you might bring home a boy someday? Granted, I would have put money on Dick being the first, but the point still stands. It makes absolutely no difference to me if you’re gay, buddy.”

“Umm… I think I’m bi actually.”

“Alright then, but my point still stands. I trust your judgment, and I don’t care who you date, as long as they make you happy.”

Tim gave a watery smile. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” Then fully out of emotion points, Bruce cleared his suddenly tight throat. “Now, mind coming with me to the cave?”

Confused, Tim cocked his head, but rose accommodatingly. “Sure, what do you need?”

Bruce shook his head as he spun the clock hands and opened the secret passage. “It’s not what I need, but what you need.” He beckoned Tim to follow him down the steps, which he did obligingly. “I need to grab some more Kryptonite.”

“Bruce!” Tim squawked in shock and indignation. His brain immediately went into panic mode, thinking about all the ways Bruce trying to shovel-talk Conner might go horribly wrong, or at least be horribly embarrassing.

Bruce turned back, completely baffled by how adamant and unexpected the refusal was. “Tim,” he started. And oh no, that was his I don’t know why you’re arguing with this perfectly reasonable request voice that always managed to piss Dick off.

“If the two of you are going to be spending time together in Gotham as civilians, you need to be prepared in case the two of you get caught up in one a Rogue attack.” He turned back around and continued on over to the vault where he kept the Kryptonite. “Oh, and don’t let me forget to give him one of these new rebreathers I’ve been working on next time he comes over. The last thing Gotham needs is a Kryptonian getting dosed with Fear Toxin or Joker Gas.”

Kryptonite in hand, Bruce spun and nearly walked into a frozen Tim who was looking at him with a dumbfounded expression. “What?” he asked, the smallest bit of defensiveness bleeding into his voice.

Tim’s voice turned slightly skeptical. “And that’s the only thing you want the Kryptonite for?”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to be confused. “Yes???” he asked, mind whirling to figure out what he was missing.

Tim realized he had definitely misread where this was going and felt torn between laughing at Bruce’s complete confusion and the urge to hug him.

He decided to go with the second one, and if Bruce still had no idea what was going on when he hugged Tim back, well, that just made it better.

-0

Conner was happy enough to take the call that saved him from having to help seed the backfield. He was twice as happy to hear it was from Tim, who he hadn’t heard from since Conner left him at Wayne Manor three days ago.

“Tim?”

“Conner…”

“Tim, is that…you?”

“It’s me.”

“What’s up? What’s going on? I hear gunshots.”

“Tell the Titans not to give up my room. Tell them I’m back.”

Conner grinned. “I knew it.”

[weabooweedwitch]

I don’t want this to come across as, like, pity because it’s not and I’m sure you don’t want that, I mean this in the normalest, friendliest, least parasocial way possible because having followed you for years and spoke to you a few times it sucks that you are in this situation and have had to repeatedly go through it: can we help you somehow? Ko fi donations, Amazon wishlist, therapy fund etc? Is there anything we could do to make things a little more bearable?

For one I just wanna say that it actually just in itself means a lot that people are wanting to help me or at least vocally reaching out because like.. this is such a big world we're living in and its so easy to feel like i dont mean shit or matter for shit or can change shit at all so its nice to know that like. I dunno.. im glad i was able to kinda find this space for myself because like i dont really have a social life and without you guys (using "you guys" as a general word for all of my online friends rn) i wouldn't have anyone else to turn to

And also I don't perceive you guys wanting to help me as pity at all and really its kind of just validation because I'm basically 24/7 doubting myself and "am I valid for x, am I valid for y" so when im having kind of a crisis and people actually say "shit bro you ok" that feels better than like. I dunno. What does mother usually say. Stuff that's meant to be supportive but is kind of just toxic positivity like "You're overreacting and don't even think about it" which, those can be valid grounding techniques but like, you usually try and soothe the initial feeling first and then tell yourself not to think about it if you're obsessing over it

So I typed up what accidentally turned into a huge paragraph but, as nice as an Amazon wishlist sounds --because it makes me feel good people like me and gifts are always nice of course-- I would feel guilty for even making that public, and, to be realistic, my rent is very cheap and the only reason I don't have a lot of savings is because I keep spending money on bullshit. I kind of need to exercise restraint and actually save money because uh like I've been working for like 2 or 3 years now and I basically still have what I started with. So. I guess TLDR is "i would feel guilty accepting gifts i can technically afford for myself and also I would feel like a total chump beggar 😔". Maybe when I learn more self kindness I'll feel less guilt accepting gifts I guess? Where i am right now, it just feels like I'm being, I dunno, manipulative

Monetary donations are kind of the same and I'm stricter on that and try not to take money unless there's some kind of emergency. I do worry about money a lot but its usually always in the "how can I support myself on my own in the future" sense. I mean, most people put away a small part of every paycheck, but my savings account actually kind of expired and got closed so I just have the one checking one and uh, it's easy for me to keep pulling out of it, you know 💀 but that circles back to "i have to personally learn how to exercise financial restraint" and also like. Let's not. Think about how all the socioeconomic policies in America aren't even remotely in my control so I should uh try and ignore that technically no job is paying enough and everyone has to have roommates or a spouse to afford anything 😅

And also. Yeah I'm ok on like therapy funds and stuff because I'm actually on state insurance, actually I'm trying to cut down my work hours to guarantee I stay in the right financial bracket so I can keep it. I was talking to a couple people last night and I might consider going to a doctor again soon but im really hesitant about it. It kinda seems like I need a more thorough evaluation from a psychiatrist and. Well.

I think my first "big goal" for right now is that I should put some money aside and. Uh. Well. Kinda quit my job for a while so I can focus on those sorts of things. I feel really bad even saying that but the fact is, the fact is, im a person with severe mental illness and depression and my current job involves random strangers constantly constantly treating me like shit and sometimes getting very verbally abusive and aggressive and sometimes just having someone suddenly approach me can be very startling? Did I ever tell you guys about the time a random older man just came up from behind me and briefly grabbed me from behind? It was ad a joke and I was on edge watching my peripheral vision for motion that entire week

So I guess to make a long story short I think I should. Focus on what I want to do in terms of medicine right now and really fight to pursue the fact I think some really important diagnoses have been missed, and to do that without a lot of stress, to have a flexible schedule to see a doctor, I think the best decision is to take off work for a while, which I think is a good idea anyways? So to do that with a clear conscience I just want to have a few months of my portion of rent and then some extra in my bank account so I won't have to stress about immediately getting back to work or getting a new job. Because that's another decision I have to make: for I want to brave the current job market and look for another job and risk the one I currently have.

Long answer is long but I have a lot of thoughts right now 💀 talking with you guys has been a huge help in of itself so thats the only payment I'll accept for right now 🥰

[certifiedceraunophile]

Hi! A fan of your writing here. I just love the way you write Caroline. An Avoidable Heart is my comfort fic and I am constantly in awe with the way you write and craft the dynamics in that story. Caroline's inner monologue is just priceless and God! I just love that intro scene where Caroline is walking into the Mikaelson compound with vampires and hybrids in the surrounding ready to pounce on her.

I would love to hear how you would have visualized Caroline crossing over into TO or not? Like in what season and why? How it would have likely gone?

Thank you!

First of all lovely anon gimme a moment to breathe, asdfghjkl why are people so lovely 😭😭🥺✨ It means sooo much to me that you’d take the time to jump into my inbox and send these kind words, like please I’m not worthyyyyy, But you make me smile and feel really freaking warm so *handcuffs your hand to mine* you aint leaving 💖✨💞🙃

But OK ALSO oh my god dude THAT CAROLINE WALTZS INTO THE COMPOUND AND TAKES ON A COUPLE HUNDRED VAMPIRES BY HERSELF SCENE???? Ughhhhh I’m sorry but I have SUCH a boner for Caroline in that, like my badass -I admit kinda op- QUEEN IS HERE and she’s fucking shit up, I’m sorry but I love that scene so much it’s so dear to me I was killing myself over how self-indulgent and grossly Over powered Caroline is but like idgaf man it’s such a hot scene and Caroline is practically invincible and we just love to see that, so seriously lovely anon, you telling me you LOVE that scene??? Puts the biggest smile on my face and reassures me a LOT bc I was whining and cribbing over how absolutely unbalanced that scene is to literally everyone BUT LIKE YOU JUMPING OUT OF NOWHERE and pointing that exact scene UGHH…...meant to fucking be the both of us 💖💞✨

And ALSO Caroline’s monologue is quite honestly the easiest inner monologue out of the three voices I wrote for that work, Klaus’s is the real pain in the ass tbvh like it is NOT easy writing pretentious besotted losers with a Kardashian complex especially when you need to make them sound cool when they’re the lamest OP dude bros to ever exist - and no I don’t hate Klaus although I seem to try my darndest to convince ppl I do- I just personally believe that a feral fucker like that with a thousand years of existence under his belt can grow a pair and graduate from his kindergarten level of emotional maturity to adult sometime soon, But then on the flipside he’s so grossly adorkably smitten and feral for Caroline plus hella horny for her all the time that its usually easy to write the trashed and devoted idiot he is into something pretentious and powerful and potent when relating to his unflappable arrogance and his narcissism, but sometimes I also need him to be *deep* and ffs profound for the sake of the plot and jfc my muse just wont work with me on that, she’s like I’m sorry I’m not about to bust my ass to make this mongrel intelligible like no sir all I wanna do is make him uncomfortably horny for Caroline and leave him like that.

So smh yeah the struggle is real….but lmao Caroline is just so precious and fiercely protective and just so achingly lonely in that story, so desperate for connection and trust and intimacy yet so guarded and impervious to everyone like it hurts me to write her like that but it really challenges me as an author to balance out her inherent light with the “void” I create in her and through her, so yeah it’s a very fulfilling task and I wouldnt change it one bit, and also I had to balance out her physical op-ness w half a millennium of the ugliest emotional trauma lol so I guess that figures, but the point being….once again I am overjoyed knowing that you liked a facet of the story that I tried so hard to make as authentically Caroline and achingly real and moving as I can and I cannot possibly feel more accomplished than rn for it so ty ty ty ty for reaching out to me and telling me *tackle hugs* It makes me GIDDY knowing that you enjoyed that particular part of the story like ugh stab me please you're too sweet.

And ok NOW, coming to The Originals part of the ask, (also please note that when I say TO headcanon; Hope does not exist, Hayley is a dead in a ditch and ofc Klaus will stop being that lil bitch they tried to pawn off as Klaus in TO) 

HEADCANON 1

Honestly my biggest headcanon when it comes to TO crossovers somehow always include non-humanity!Caroline like it’s just so perfect to me?? The opportunity to make shit BLOW UP b/w them like imagine the DEBAUCHERY, the heat, the SEXUAL TENSION, the repression of one Klaus Mikaelson, the EXPLORATIONS, and omg the role reversal when Klaus has to be the voice of moral reason between them and not bc he believes Caroline would not be able to stand herself if she does something heinous and monstrous but bc he wants her to be completely and utterly herself, and yk *aware*, when she DECIMATES ppl to the ground and is in full-on predator mode, like he wants her monster to come out and play with him when no part of Caroline is locked away or suppressed, so obviously when she is w/o her humanity KLAUS exercises restraint on her behalf, like can you imagine that, Klaus restraining himself and being the vague, extremely broken and just largely inaccurate moral compass between the two of them for ALL the wrong reasons- and the entirety of NOLA just standing there watching him herd this baby vampire who seems to be intent on riling him up and angering him when all she is doing is giving him a massive hybrid hard on, like IMAGINE THE GOODNESS of non-humanity Caroline wrecking NOLA and Klaus letting her wreck it bc he is helpless in the face of Caroline Forbes and also bc he is quite honestly *enjoying* the debauchery himself so why put a damper on the festivities.

-I might wanna add that I favour this headcanon a lot bc I genuinely do not even remotely *like* the idea of NOLA as Klaus's chosen place to set his roots so like I would love Caroline going to NOLA and destroying everything there just bc I detest NOLA and the storyline behind it in TO. (yes is it petty? Obvi, but like I am a petty soul and I make no apologies ma’am)

HEADCANON 2

So yeah that’s my main TO headcanon, but my other one being, one I talk about very frequently, scream about in tag rants to an obsessive level, and like this is a cracky one but still very valid, where Caroline rolls up to NOLA humanity intact and all, finds Hayley preggo and is just laughing her fucking ass off bc anybody ANYBODY, with half a brain and a two minute convo w klaus would know how UTTERLY stupid the entire baby shit is especially when it’s with an immemorable one night stand, and Caroline’s just losing her shit about how like an entire city is obssessed w this baby and she just straight up tells Klaus he’d SUCK as a dad (which he really does tho like he was a shitty fucking dad canonically too) and Klaus is just like *sigh* girl tell me about it. I mean basically he’s finally relieved that someone is on his side about the whole baby thing and how he definitely does not want his entire millennium of life to finally sum up to this one squalling leaking stinky infant/unicorn Hayley is apparently baking in her oven, and I say this headcanon is cracky bc klaus would never have put up w this mess long enough for Caroline to come in and sort it out, there’s this preferred method of disposal of his called heart ripping that would've been employed quite early on and honestly saved us all a lot of brain cells and minused years of life, bc let’s be real any Klaus who’s NOT a lil snivelling bitch wearing a Klaus skinsuit would’ve yeeted the baby and the mama first chance he got, and that’s just how I see it.

Lmao I really hope I didnt scare you away w my *strong* opinions Ik they can be a bit much but I enjoy having them so theyre not going anywhere, anyways this ask answer got WAYYYY too long but I’m hoping I answered your question well with this or atleast left you slightly confused and bemused over my feral screaming....either ways I’m really really really happy to have got your ask and the chance to rant so much bs, Twas cathartic and honestly I had nothing to do today so I was more than happy to dish this baby out for you. Thank you so much sweet anon for putting a smile on my face today I am absolutely HONOURED by your words you’sa cutie 💖💞✨🗣🗣