#ty for sending me the prompt!!!

[sae-mian]

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

For the writing prompts, for whomever comes to mind. <3

aaaa thank you!!! now i have to figure out how i want to actually.. format these...

TIMELINE: ballad WHEN: patch 5.5 WHO: nira'sae/g'raha SUMMARY: a moment after they returned from paglth'an sporting some fresh injuries.

┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈

They thought they'd done pretty well, all things considered.

It was their first real taste of combat outside of sparring since they'd recovered from their... incident, at the tower. The Scions had done everything they could to ensure they were prepared - geared them, lectured them, subjected them to hours of training - but the world wouldn't wait forever.

Fandaniel didn't seem eager to wait at all.

But no amount of preparation could make up for almost a decade of missing experience. So... they took a few hits.

It was nothing major, by their standards. The "Lunar Ifrit" had been mean as all Hell, but, they were sure they'd fought worse before. An errant swipe had come out lower and faster than they expected, catching them across the thigh - shaken for just a moment too long, they stumbled, and one swipe cascaded into two, giving them a matching gash across their hip and abdomen.

All of which had led them here, to the room they'd been given in the Hourglass, getting ready to dress down and address the damage. They could very well have done more on the journey over - but as they'd told Alisaie - keeping Arenvald stable was the priority, at the time. They should have known better than to think she'd let that slide.

There was a knock at the door.

Hurriedly grabbing a robe to throw on, shirtless as they now were, they braced themself for a renewed lecture.

"Uh- come in?"

It wasn't their little Elezen friend that opened the door, however.

Instead, G'raha Tia made his way through the threshold, looking about as pleased as Alisaie had been.

"Nira'sae." he greeted, sounding far more stern than they were used to.

They wrapped the robe a little tighter.

"H-hi-- um. Is everything alright?"

"It was brought to my attention that you didn't return entirely unscathed."

Ah. She'd ratted them out.

He was before them, now. Arms folded with the manner of one scolding a child.

"Well, no, b-but..."

"Let me see."

"I-it's okay-- I'll deal with it."

"Nira'sae."

For someone that had just fought through a veritable legion of tempered Imperials, and bested some new amalgamation of Primal, they found they really had no backbone at all.

They slowly untied and shrugged off the robe, letting it hang from their elbows. It was blood-stained, now. Oops.

G'raha's face immediately softened into gentle concern. He stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look - it took all their resolve not to take a step back in turn, cheeks starting to colour.

They stared pointedly at the wall until he tutted, straightening.

"Sit down. I'll handle this."

It wasn't a question. He was already taking off his gloves. They opened their mouth to argue, but he cut them off.

"Oh, and take those off."

He was gesturing to their pants. Without the robe, the tear in them was fairly obvious. Their ears pinned back, a mild sense of panic and anticipation mixing in the pit of their stomach.

"I don't-- you don't have to, I can--"

"No, but I'd like to."

"B-but--"

His hand found one of theirs.

"Honestly, Nira..." his voice was quieter now - chiding but gentle, "...just relax, and let me take care of you. Okay?"

Their heart was racing in their chest, all nerves and butterflies, but when he squeezed their hand...

They found themselves nodding anyway.

[tethered-heartstrings]

[nolovelingers]

hi omg i loved ur hcs for ethan landry as ur bf <333 do you think you could write something like that, but for tate langdon, please?

TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

ೄྀ࿐ requested ! ˊˎ-

headcanons — // cw ! : dark themes ,, obsessive tendencies,, nsfw !! similar to ethans i try to keep these as realistic as my silly little mind is able to think !! very toxic relationship 🌀 talk of self harm & smoking

——————————————————————————

 SFW !!

TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is like meeting someone who’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. there are no duplicates, copies or a person even remotely similar to the dark eyed boy.

there’s always been something about his odd personality that has a strange charm to it. he’s always held himself up to his own standards and even back before the entire westfield high situation he’s been very picky about his living style and the people he surrounds himself with.

so therefore when he met you, the stilled silence to his violent tornado, it was as if everything else in the world dimmed and the spotlight shone to you.

he would never leave you alone. not when you move rooms, not if you try to have people over, not when you stormed into the backyard and sat under the flickering moon as you desperately grasped for alone time. not even when you go to the bathroom.

the second he came into your life and you allowed him to, privacy no longer existed. the only time he would ever leave was if he had his own emergency to partake to or if your guardian(s) were around.

at first it was cute, you couldn’t really deny the fact that having a boyfriend so attached to the hip and dependent made your heart flutter in some sort of way. but you quickly learned that even as dreamy as it sounds it’s not all that great.

if you run to the bathroom and lock yourself inside the langdon boy is fast to follow suite, confused on where or what you were running from until he watched you shut the restroom door and he slid his back against it; knees brought up to his chest as he patiently waited for you to come back out. and trust me, he will wait. doesn’t matter if it’s hours or even half of the day. he won’t move an inch.

you hardly invite friends over but the few times you do you’re fast to regret it. you tell him your friends coming over, hoping he’ll take the hint to leave, and he’ll only blankly stare at you; face devoid of any emotion as he mutters a gentle ‘oh’ before returning to looking through your collections of whatever it is you have an abundance of. maybe books, cd’s, vinyls, comics, posters, crystals/rocks, stuffed animals, funky socks or a hoard of animal bones; there’s nothing in your room tate hasnt gotten his hands on.

even after you alert him of the approaching company unless you plan on shoving him out or repeatedly asking him to leave he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. he’s terrible at reading social cues and you have to spell out the simplest things for him.

he’s quick to judge your friends, not one of them is good enough for you in his mind and he’ll be sure to voice that. sometimes even straight to their face; with a blank expression and no emotion behind his eyes. it doesn’t matter how close or how long you’ve known someone, could even be your whole life, they’re not good for you like he is.

he often says the most terrible and disgusting things about them to your face, judging you heavily for the people you hang around and making you feel insecure.

he is definitely the type to drive wedges in between all of your relationships. just with your friends at first but as the relationship furthers he begins to do the same to your family too.

obviously he can’t leave the house but if there was ever a time you ranted about someone you dislike, hurt your feelings or overall anything spoken poorly about them he would remember it till halloween and carefully map out their murder. i mean, you wanted them to die right? why else would you tell him about it?

tate is extremely oblivious to your emotions. he loves you so much and it’s clear to him you must be meant for each other. so no matter how you feel back, reciprocated or not tate would assume you liked him too. he refuses to be in the friend zone and throws a hissy fit if you ever even try.

as we all known he’s one of the prettiest criers out there and this is very useful when it comes to manipulating. he knows you have a weak spot for seeing his tears and now anytime you try to lecture him, kick him out or he feels as though you’re not understanding his (rather malicious) side of the story the tears are quick to fall. but the tricky thing here is that they are always real tears of sadness and regret; it’s just as though he’s reprogrammed himself to cry at any minor inconvenience.

his favorite cuddle position is spooning and he often likes to be the little spoon. no one in his life has ever cared for him enough (or at least in his eyes they haven’t), and when you have your arms securely around him, pulling him into you; it’s like heaven on earth. he feels so safe, warm and comforted. there are of course days where the rolls switch but there’s really no denying he prefers to be the one being spooned.

id definitely say he’s a sort of pathological liar and even when he doesn’t mean for it to happen lies fall from his mouth as easy as tears stream from his eyes. it could be about the stupidest shit or it could be actually serious as he tries to work his way out of a situation he’s actually at fault for.

this makes it really hard to trust him, because it’s eerily scary how easy it is for him to lie straight to your face with even blinking, or come up with excuses on the spot. i know people like to claim they’re usually good at picking up when people are lying to them but with tate it’s a huge challenge. he’s unnaturally good at it and doesn’t hesitate.

it’s not easy to pick up on his fibs in the moment but there are a few times you’re able to realize later on; as his stories don’t add up or he forgot his lie in the first place and comes up with a completely different one when asked the same question from before.

and even then once he gets caught; deny deny deny. you’re the one in the wrong for accusing him of something like that when he just has a poor memory and suddenly you’re the bad guy for pointing fingers even though you’re the one with evidence and he just throws out empty accusations.

if you smoke i think he’d love to break into your stash a lot, he didn’t use weed before his death but once you introduce him i see him as a sort of mini-stoner. he’ll use your stuff without even asking. he kind of contradicts himself in that way because for the most part when he was still living he thought people who smoked or drank were stupid, ruining their body. he looked down on them. when you’re dead though you cant really destroy your body and though he still doesn’t like drinking he’ll indulge in smoking.

if you do any sort of after school activity or club he’ll encourage you to quit, telling you how it’s all stupid and a waste of time that you could be spending together. if you refuse he’ll try to sabotage it for you the best he can while being confined to the house. maybe sending a nasty email to your teacher/coach or by ruining a uniform or equipment you use.

there’s definitely times when he’s asked you to drop out of highschool to which you immediately declined and there’s not really much else he could do about this nuisance.

langdon will put you onto his likes and interests, music or movies he has a taste for. he’ll try the stuff you like as well but he’s quick to judge and doesn’t do second thoughts or tries. if he doesn’t like it he won’t even pretend to and will harsh out negative reviews before you turn it off. and then he’ll act confused on why you suddenly stopped it but he’s very glad you did. he couldn’t stand it.

and because of this when you’re hanging out it’s all about what tate wants to do. the music he wants to play. the things he wants to talk about and the films he wants to watch.

jealousy is a major problem for him and the mention of really anyone, but especially if it’s a guy, will have his blood pumping and his head spinning.

to him, he only has you. it should be the same way around, he absolutely hates that you have and know other people that aren’t just him.

tw? — if you ever try to leave him he goes all out and puts on the most dramatic show you’ve literally ever seen. throwing himself against walls, screaming and crying his eyes out, burying his head in his knees and clutching at his hair while begging and pleading for you to stay. he doesn’t get angry at all but turns more pathetic and desperate as he clings onto you. lots of “ill do better”, “you can’t leave me”, “tell me what I did wrong” and “you’re all I have”’s leaving his lips. if this doesn’t work he’ll harm himself in front of you, smashing his head against the wall or even using a sharp tool to cut into his arm while only asking one thing. “is this what you want?”

tw? — it’s a very draining relationship and can impact your mental space a lot. if you self harm he will catch you eventually, whether it’s while in the act or the scars/scabs from after. he’ll grab your arm (not assuming that’s where you sh, just so he has a grip on you), asking you how you could be so selfish (which is his way of caring) and then asking you to cut him instead anytime you wanted to hurt yourself. this is obviously off putting and drives a wedge between you for a while, which he will trap you back by guilting you and apologizing. (even though he was completely serious when asking and still is.)

the blonde haired boy lives for your validation. he’s constantly asking for reassurance and pestering you with loads of questions. whether if it’s if you like his outfit to if you still had feelings for him or not.

he’s a huge listener than he is a talker and could sit for hours, happily criss crossed and a toothless and content smile on his face while you go on about every little detail of your day.

he’s definitely asked you to do his eyeliner before but would rather die (again) than have anything else applied to his skin. it would cripple his masculinity.

overall he’s very touchy, craving for any contact he can get with you. resting his head on your shoulder, holding hands, his hand on your thigh or pinkies intwined. he always has to be touching you in some way.

recommending books and songs are one of his all time favorite things to do and he does expect you to read or listen to all of his suggestions. he’ll ask you about it a few days later after initially suggesting it and will get upset if you still haven’t looked into it.

tate hardly gets angry, he’s very sensitive as we all know and most of the time it ends in his hysterical sobs; but when the fire inside him lights it’s terrifying.

if you weren’t the one to make him angry you’d usually be okay, he’d rant about it to you while you played with his hair; describing all of the horrendous ways he wanted to see the person or thing he’s mad at crash and burn. if he’s angry at you it’s like he moves on his own, putting you in a chokehold and slamming you against the wall, yelling and pointing fingers at you. pushing items off your desks/dressers/shelf’s and you make him go away; scared of him hurting you. he wouldn’t, not intentionally, but it was a very scary sight to see.

of course within hours he’d return, tears streaming down his face and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, arms latched around your legs as he sobbed into them and refused to let go until you forgave him.

as much as he loves you and wants you to be together forever, he would never purposefully go to the extent of killing you in the house so you could stay with him forever at the age you are. it sucks, he knows it sucks, but he does have a boundary set for that. he doesn’t want you stuck there for the rest of your life. he’s just hoping you’ll stay in that house with him willingly anyway. he’d let you go after crying his heart out for days, but he’d never let you forget him or move on. and being honest; he would probably start to regret the decision.

his love for you goes beyond words, it consumes him completely. he knows now his purpose. the day he died in that house and the years that passed waiting up to the day he met you.

he was made for loving you, in his own sick way. you are his entire heart.

NSFW !!

tate is a switch in the bedroom, but he’s so easy to dominate which makes him lead towards being more submissive. of course he’ll be in his dominant moods, there’s no doubt, but it’s laughable how easy it is to take control back over him.

he loves to overstimulate you, fucking you or relentlessly giving you head for hours, not giving you rest inbetween as you beg for him to stop through shattered moans.

(if you’re a female) — we all know about his mommy issues and he definitely incorporates that into the bedroom in some ways.

(if you’re a female) — he’s a tits man rather than ass and anytime you’re going at it your shirt has to be off, he doesn’t care what size breasts you have all he wants is to attach his mouth around your nipples and tease them with his tongue, sucking lightly before leaving hickeys all over them.

(if you’re a female) — he has the best fuck me eyes the worlds ever seen and when he’s bottoming he can’t stop himself from calling you ‘mama’.

he’s very kinky, and he has put on the infamous leather suit before to fuck you. it makes him feel more powerful, like he’s in control.

when he’s topping he’ll have one hand pinning one of your arms above your hand while using his other to interlace your fingers, crying into your neck with all the pleasure he’s feeling.

he’s not the greatest on cleaning up afterwords but he always snuggles you, cuddling up to you in a ball and resting his head soundly on your chest as his breathing slows and he drifts off.

but the most important thing to know — tate is godly at sex. he doesn’t have the most experience in the world but he definitely wasn’t a virgin by the time you met and he knows what he’s doing.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ a/n : thank you sm for requesting , made my day !! i hope that this is to your liking, i appreciate the compliment ab my ethan headcanon i tried my best <33. my inbox is open to all !!

started 08.06.23. finished 08.07.23.

©️nolovelingers 2023

[mintjeru]

i'm team haravatat ⚾🖤 thank you @/bubblelaine for your donation to @hkvthm-action!! (this gotcha is accepting donations until august 9! your support is appreciated 🍉)

open for better quality | no reposts

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the new ask game

"If I have to force you I will"

Brudick

send a ship and a quote and i'll write a a short fic!

this is so inspired, anon. here's 2.7k of BruDick whump. warning for non-con somnophilia, but it's very brief. the whole fic is very non-con/dead dove in nature tho. this takes place during Jason's Robin era. enjoy <3

Dick could feel Bruce’s eyes on him from across the room, even without looking. He made a point not to look. Instead, Dick focused on helping Jason set his dislocated shoulder.

“How does that feel?” Dick asked. He pressed his fingers against the bone, just to double check for any breaks.

“I’m fine,” Jason insisted. He hopped off the medical gurney and pulled away from Dick’s touch. An immediate wince came out of Jason when his feet hit the ground. His ankle was at best, swollen. At worst, sprained.

With how hard Killer Croc threw Jason into that brick wall, he was lucky to walk away with a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle. Dick still couldn’t get the noise of Jason’s small body slamming against the hard brick and the noise he’d made when he fell to the ground.

“You should take a couple weeks off patrol at least,” Dick said, putting away the leftover bandages. “To let it heal.”

Jason made a face at Dick, his mouth screwing up like he’d eaten something sour. “I said I was fine!” He didn't look fine. He was pale and a little sweaty from the pain. “Right, B?” Going right above Dick's head, Jason turned to Bruce with an expectant look.

Dick finally let himself look at Bruce. He levelled Bruce with a deadly glare. Now though, Bruce was the one avoiding his gaze.

“We’ll talk about it later, chum.” Bruce walked over to them and ruffled Jason’s head with disgusting affection that made Dick’s lip curl.

He had nothing against Jason. But he damn well knew Bruce was doing it to get a rise out of Dick. The worst part, it was working remarkably well.

“Get to bed now,” Bruce said, patting Jason’s good shoulder.

Jason gave a nod that was a little too serious, like he was facing a war general giving an order. Given who he was talking to, Dick supposed it wasn't far off. Jason ran off to the stairs, almost managing to hide his limp. Dick watched him disappear up the steps.

He was a good kid.

Too good for this life.

“That could've gotten him killed.” Dick didn't look in Bruce’s direction, but there was no one else in the cave he could've been talking to. No one else on the planet Dick would speak to with such an icy tone.

“You would've stuck that landing at his age,” Bruce said coolly, pointedly avoiding the hostility bleeding from Dick.

Dick whipped his head around. “I had more training at his age.” So many insults sat on Dick’s tongue. He managed to swallow all of them without choking. “Take better care of Jason.” With that, Dick turned on his heel and walked toward where his motorcycle was parked in the bay of the cave.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked. Like he had any right to know.

“Home,” Dick snapped. He wanted his bed and shitty take out from the only place in Bludhaven open this late.

“This is your home.”

Dick’s hand curled into a fist, itching to hit Bruce. He wouldn't stoop that low. “Not since you kicked me out, it isn't.”

“You still have a place here.” Bruce’s voice was as even and emotionless as it always was. He could've been talking about the weather.

Emotions were weakness to Bruce. And there was a time Dick naively believed Bruce trusted him enough to share that weakness with Dick.

What a joke that was.

“No, I don't,” Dick spoke through grit teeth. He just needed to keep walking to his bike and leave Bruce and his rotting city behind.

“Then why are you even here?”

Dick spun around fast enough to make his hair fall over his face. He really should cut it, but he liked the length. Bruce had always made him keep it short. For practicality. Now, letting it grow just past his shoulders, Dick’s hair was one of the few pieces of self expression he had.

“Because I made a promise to Jason,” Dick’s words dripped with all the anger he could muster, looking into Bruce’s cold blue eyes. “I would be there if he called. Unlike you, I keep promises.” It was a cold insult that hit below the belt.

“You think I couldn't have handled Croc?” Bruce arched an eyebrow. He was trying to back Dick into a corner and Dick knew it. Drag some kind of confession out of Dick that he'd come to see Bruce for some hopeless romantic reason.

Bruce could keep hoping. Dick was there for Jason and nothing more.

“Clearly you couldn't,” Dick pointed out. “Jason got hurt.”

For the briefest second, real emotion flashed across Bruce's eyes. It was something, at least. A small proof he really did care about Jason.

“He just wanted to see you.” Bruce regained his composure. “He looks up to you. He's been talking about training with you.”

Dick shook his head with a cold laugh. “I’m not falling for that. If he wants to train, he can come to me. Don't use him to get to me.” He gave Bruce a final warning look before turning back around.

“Stay.”

“No.” Dick didn't look back. His bike was within arm’s reach when a hand grabbed his arm.

“Dick,” Bruce was trying to sound soft. The command in his voice ruined the illusion of kindness.

“Don’t.” No matter how much Dick knew Bruce’s kindness was a ruse, he couldn't stop himself from mirroring it. The anger left his tone and was replaced by something softer. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Call in,” Bruce said. Easy for him to say with his billionaire pockets.

Dick shook his head. He tried to pull his arm free. “This isn't happening again. It's especially not happening now.” Jason’s face flashed across Dick’s mind. In Dick’s Robin suit.

That betrayal was still a raw wound.

“Dick, I…” Bruce trailed off. “I'm sorry for how I- for how things happened.” Just as he almost took accountability, he skirted past it. A vague, half-assed apology that wasn't going to fix anything now.

“You should've said that and a hell of a lot more over a year ago,” Dick just shook his head. He tugged his arm harder. Bruce’s grip was a vice.

“Please stay.” Despite the words, it sounded like an order, not a request. Bruce’s brow hardened.

“Bruce,” Dick said, setting his jaw. “Let go.”

Bruce raised a hand and for a second, Dick almost flinched, expecting to be hit. Instead, Bruce's fingers hovered in the air before cupping Dick’s face. He was still wearing his suit, but Dick could feel the gentle body heat through the glove. He gasped.

A thumb stroked Dick’s cheek. And for a part of him, it was hard not to give in to. There was comfort in the familiarity. How easily Bruce slotted back into a role he used to perfectly fill in Dick’s life.

Dick didn't need Bruce in that role, though. And he definitely didn't want him there.

“Just the night,” Bruce offered, still stroking with his thumb. “I’ll order from the Chinese place you like.”

“I said no.” Dick took a half a step back.

The gentle, loving hand holding Dick’s face shifted to a brutally possessive grip without warning. Bruce held Dick by his jaw, fingers digging in enough to make Dick hiss.

“If I have to force, you I will.” It was dangerous, how matter-of-factly Bruce said it. No violence or threatening nature to the statement. Just a plain coldness.

Dick flinched. His full body recoiled.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dick hissed.

Bruce has been rough with Dick, before. But only when Dick asked for it.

Never like this.

The only thing Bruce had ever forced Dick to do was leave. At the time, it had been the worst thing Bruce ever did to Dick.

This was worse, now.

“You can't force me to do anything,” Dick said when Bruce didn't answer. He just started at Dick with those empty eyes. “I’m not under your thumb anymore.”

“I want to know you're safe,” Bruce spoke so calmly, like he wasn't trying to force Dick to stay against his will. Like he was practically doing Dick a favor. “Someone needs to look out for you and make sure you're taking care of yourself.”

“I have people,” Dick said, and it wasn't a lie. He had the Titans, his friends and coworkers in Bludhaven. “I don't need you. I never did, Bruce. You never understood that.” Dick’s heart was beating too fast in his chest. Bruce had to be bluffing. Trying to fake Dick out or something.

The grip on his jaw was going to bruise if Bruce kept it up.

“I need you, though,” Bruce’s voice was low and quiet. “That's what I was wrong about when I kicked you out. I thought…” he didn't finish the sentence. He just shook his head once. “I didn't know how much I needed you. And I need you now, Dick.”

Dick leaned in close to Bruce’s face. “I don't care what you need.” He pulled back and twisted his head away to wrench it from Bruce’s grip. A single well aimed strike to Bruce’s inner wrist forced his hand to open, letting go of Dick’s arm.

For a second, Dick was free.

It was a short second.

Dick didn't have time to step back. He didn't have time to think before Bruce lunged.

It was a brutal and effective pin. One that Dick had always struggled to get out of during training. Bruce grabbed Dick’s wrist and twisted him around, forcing him to his knees. Bruce’s own knee pinned Dick down, pressed between his shoulder blades while Dick’s arm was held at a painful angle.

He had one arm free. But it was difficult to grab Bruce from where he was standing. The shock of being pinned in the first place slowed his reaction.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Dick gasped. He reached back to grab an escrima stick. If Bruce wanted a fight, Dick would give him one.

His hand was stopped before he could reach the weapon. Bruce just grabbed that wrist too and hauled Dick back up to his feet like he weighed nothing. He pinned Dick against his own body, Dick’s arm painfully trapped between the two of them.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Bruce said into Dick’s ear. His breath was warm on Dick’s skin in a sickly way. “Stay with me for the night.”

Instead of answering with words, Dick lifted his foot and kicked Bruce as hard as he could in the shin. Bruce stumbled and Dick dropped into a crouch, ready to flip Bruce off of him.

Before he could, something sharp pinched against his neck and Dick gasped.

The psychotic bastard.

His body slumped, weightless in Bruce’s arms that shifted to cradle Dick. Gently, like a lover.

Then, Dick slipped away.

Once he was drugged, it was easy to pull compliance out of Dick.

Bruce just had to carry him up the stairs and into Bruce’s bedroom. He carefully stripped both of their suits, laying them out for Alfred to wash in the morning.

Dick wasn't quite unconscious.

But he was groaning and sluggish, unable to hold his eyes open or form real words. When Bruce touched him, his body yielded and gave in so sweetly.

The way he was supposed to give in to Bruce.

Dick wouldn't remember any of it when it woke up. But his body would.

His body, warm and beautiful under Bruce’s hands. There were new scars Bruce didn't know about. He made sure to show attention to every one with gentle kisses and colorful hickeys.

But he felt the same when Bruce was buried inside of his right warmth.

Even in a drugged state, Dick reacted beautifully. Soft moans and twitches as Bruce fucked him. Slow and gentle. It was so easy to manipulate Dick’s body into the right positions. He was just as flexible as he’d always been.

Bruce liked the long hair, he decided, when he buried his fingers into it to pull Dick into an embrace while Dick whimpered.

Beautiful. Perfect.

With a hand curled around Dick’s cock, they both came as Bruce groaned Dick’s name into his sweet skin.

Bruce licked Dick’s cum off his sweaty skin. Glassy eyes watched him, struggling to say something. It almost sounded like Bruce’s name.

After finishing, Bruce cleaned both of them up and climbed into bed, arranging Dick in his arms the way they used to cuddle in bed. He closed his eyes.

Dick was home now. Where he belonged. Bruce was stupid for ever sending him away. But he was home. That was what mattered.

They would figure out the rest later.

Dick came back to awareness in a warm bed with a sore body. The sheets and pillows were familiar. They smelled familiar. His body ached in familiar places too.

Before Dick even opened his eyes, he knew where he was.

He sat up. His body was still slow and stiff. Whatever Bruce had drugged him with was a hell of a thing.

Bruce drugged him. And fucked him.

Too many feelings flickered through Dick at once for him to parse out. Anger. Confusion. Shock.

Betrayal.

Dick tuned them out. He needed to take stock. Stay focused. At least until he was out of Bruce’s home.

The sunlight filtering through the windows marked the time as late morning. Bruce’s side of the bed was empty, but Dick could hear the shower running from the ensuite bathroom.

His suit was nowhere to be found. Which left Dick stuck in Bruce’s bed, naked and vulnerable.

He tried to keep his heartrate steady. The sheets got bunched up in Dick’s first.

The moment Bruce came out of the shower Dick was going to break his goddamn-

“Bruce!” The bedroom door flew open and Jason skidded into the room. “Bruce, Alfred wants to know where he should put-” Jason froze like a deer in headlights when he saw Dick. For a moment he just stared, wide eyed and open mouthed.

Dick look down at himself and swore. He snatched the blanket that was pooled around his waist, pulling it up tight to his chest. It was too late. They both knew Jason had already seen all the bite marks scattered across Dick’s skin.

“I-” Jason stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, I didn't know-”

Like some kind of divine timing, the bathroom door opened. Bruce stepped out in nothing but loose boxers, drying his hair. He saw Dick, then Jason. His expression changed for both of them, settling on a coy smile.

“We’ve talked about knocking, Jason,” Bruce said calmly.

Jason’s face was so red it looked like it was about to catch on fire. “Sorry.”

“Head down to the kitchen for breakfast,” Bruce just gave him a fond look. “Dick and I will join you in a few minutes.”

“You’re staying for breakfast?” Jason’s eyes lit up looking at Dick.

Dick couldn't openly scowl at Bruce with Jason’s eyes on him. But he knew what Bruce was doing. And he had no choice, backed into a corner like this.

“Yeah.” Dick forced a smile. “Just for a little while.”

Jason whooped with excitement and ran out of the room as quickly as he’d came into it.

Dick whipped his head around and leveled Bruce with a deadly look.

“After breakfast,” Bruce said, before Dick can speak. “We’ll discuss this then.”

“You had no goddamn right-”

Bruce cut him off with a chaste kiss. Dick choked against Bruce’s mouth. All of his protests forced away. Dick’s heart was pounding. Too many emotions at once.

He swallowed his pride and kissed Bruce back.

[twodiamondhoes]

SLAMS DOOR OPEN hello!!! I hear you're looking for lil ficlet ideas!!

I would love to see your take on jimmy and grians relationship 👀👀👀 I simply wish there was more content of them in the world (shippy or non-shippy!!)

If u would like any additional prompts maybe the aftermath of grian taking jimmy out in wildlife????

No pressure at all if the thought doesnt appeal to you, saluting you so much as a fellow traveller on the writing strugglebus right now. GOOD LUCK!!! <3

Hi Theo!! Welcome in, please have a seat! :D

as for Jimmy & (/) Grian I totally agree, I love their dynamic so much!! Time to be the change we want to see in the world XD

Take my hand, we will get through this rough patch together!! <3333

I haven't actually finished either of their WL POVs (Blasphemous as a self-proclaimed Jimmy Main, I know) so IDK how well I can touch on that one, but I did see that clip of Grian joining their phasmo thing late that's floating around and I lost my mind. Have this modern au?? Phasmo au??? IDK but here you go!

Grian sank deeper into the couch cushions, watching some rerun of an ancient Top Gear episode on the TV in front of him. The sound is so low it might as well be muted in favor of listening to Jimmy off in the kitchen, rummaging around in cupboards as they waited for Joel to arrive.

On the screen, Hammond spun out just in time for Jimmy's voice to peak, some offended crescendo about the story he was telling. Something about someone at work.

For the first time in days, Grian felt his lungs fill, untrapped by the vice of panic or stress. He made some sort of noise in response to Jimmy asking if he could believe all of that. He tried to focus on the words, knowing that Jimmy would be more offended at him not listening than he had been at the lady in his story, but relaxation was stealing over him in waves, pulling the steel and the energy from his limbs the longer he sat there.

Jimmy's voice was much closer when he snorted, placing down a mug on the table in front of Grian. He didn't remember telling him what he wanted in his tea, but the label that spun in front of them was his favorite brew. Warmth steeped through him.

"Budge up," Jimmy said, the words floating down through the syrup of Grian's mind instead of crashing through and jarring him back to consciousness. He shuffled back into a mostly upright position, "are you falling asleep on me?"

“No,”Grian scoffed, leaving Jimmy more than enough time to settle in before he slid sideways again so that he could lean heavily on Jimmy’s shoulder. He hooked a grin up at him. “Now I’m falling asleep on you.”

“You utter-I'm not that boring, am I?” Jimmy groused, reaching for the remote. Grian kicked at the coffee table with his foot, scooting it enough that the remote was out of reach.

“As boring as you always are,” Grian said, if only because he couldn’t seem to untangle the emotions caught in the warm mixture in his chest, at least not in a way where he could pull them apart and explain them to Jimmy. “Maybe I’m just tired,” he said, trying to call up a haughty tone, “maybe it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Jimmy grumbled something more under his breath, but shifted so that Grian was resting comfortably at his side, instead of just smushed against him.

"Go on, then,” Jimmy said, settling back against the armrest so they were both halfway to horizontal. “Joel can wake us up when he gets here.”

Grian hid a smile against Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Glad you see things my way.”

[ediblesilverware]

prompt 15 - board based off yourself!

⚽️ 🖤 🩷 / 🎧 🧸🎧 / 🩷 🖤 ⚽️

(requests are open, but make sure to read my pinned post before doing so !!)

[courtmartialme]

did u know i have a tip jar where you can send me a motivational push 2 draw things >__o only valid for ideas i'd already draw by myself, like hc or au's i've talked about but never drew, or stuff i've drawn before that you'd like to see more of etc..! if you wanna try your luck at getting me to draw something else you think i'd like to feel free to as well but there's the risk of me adapting it to my tastes until the original prompt is unrecognizable lol my ko-fi !

[love-toxin]

omg why don't i do sentence starters & prompts more often?? u guys have the most delicious sumptuous succulent ideas (and ngl soooo easy to write & get inspiration!!) btw i noticed ppl asking, and my sentence starters are always free to use!! reblog & share em as you like spread the love <33

[whump-queen]

whumper shoving their fingers into whumpee’s mouth, digging their other hand into the sides of whumpee’s face so they can’t bite and just have to sit there and take it

[zukkaart]

For the ships prompts 5 and 14

Y'all are being Tyzula WHORES today (I love you anyway)

Couple #5: Ty Lee x Azula

Prompt #14: “You’re hurting me!”

For the prompt game!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An untold meeting with the gaang, the Spring before Sozin’s comet

The three young women peered over a rock, the Avatar and his little group were seemingly setting up camp for the night.

“Alright ladies here’s the plan,” Azula side eyed them both as she spoke, “It seems like they each have tasks, we’ll wait for them to split up, then pick them off one by one,” The two women nodded in acknowledgment.

“Mai, take the water bending peasant, Ty Lee, you take the boy. The avatar is mine” With that, they parted ways.

~~~

Ty Lee crept along the tree line- staying silent and patiently waiting for the avatar and girl to leave.

“Okay, I’ll find something for us to eat, Aang do you want to get fire wood?”

“Sure thing Katara!” The Avatar zoomed off in to the woods, seemingly lifted by nothing. Ty Lee had never seen an air bender before- well- almost no one had nowadays. She was mesmerized.

Soon after the bender (Katara?) left as well. Finally.

Planting her signature dazzling smile she all but waltzed in to their camp. No need to be stealthy when her charms worked just as well.

“Hey cutie, long time no see,” She leaned over him where he knelt- laying out his sleeping bag,

“Aaah!” He yelled and turned around, reaching for that weird weapon he kept strapped across his back. She did always wonder what it was, it looked like someone attempted to make a sword, but did it very wrong.

Ty Lee danced around him casually as he tried to pin her down.

“You never told me your name cutie,” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, he wiped it off but didn’t look entirely appalled. She noted that,

“It’s Sokka, water tribe”

“Well Sokka water tribe. I’m Ty Lee” she cartwheeled a safe distance away from him. “Nice to meet you”

“I wish I could say the same, what are you doing here? I thought you were after that pony tailed freak,”

“Oh we are,” She folded her arms behind her casually, Sokka held his…knife? In a defensive position, “But the avatar is an even better prize”

“We?”

“You think I’m here alone? I’m just the distraction silly!” Realization passed across the dark boys face, he turned on his heel to take off in the direction that the avatar left, but Ty Lee stepped in front of him. “I don’t think so Sokka,”

With a few quick jabs she disabled his dominant leg, he collapsed to one knee.

“Sorry about that gorgeous, I can’t have you interrupting her highness, can’t we just sit and chat?”

“In your dreams circus freak,”

“Yes,” She replied with a giggle, “since we’re here, why don’t you tell me what that is?”

“What what is?” He glanced at the blade still in his hand, “You mean boomerang?” She saw a thought pass across his features, and before she knew it- he threw it towards her. She simply side stepped and it missed her.

“Well that’s not terribly effective, is it? I expected more from the Southern Water Tribe” She taunted. What a ridiculous weapon. “But dont worry, you’ll get your leg back in a few hours. We’ll be long gone by then, but hey, if you’re ever in the Fire Nation look me up,” She winked

“Ty Lee!” Azula’s voice came from the edge of the woods. She ran up to her as smooth as ever. “The Avatar got away, I couldn’t follow him without setting this whole forest on fire, Zuko is too close- we can’t risk tipping him off,”

“Okay Azula!” But just as she turned to leave, the world went black

~~~

Azula watched in horror as that weapon the boy was so fond of came seemingly out of nowhere and slammed right in to Ty Lee’s back. She crumpled, blood quickly beginning to run down her back.

“Ty Lee!” Azula rushed forward and caught her before she could hit the ground, pressing their fronts together, The smaller girls head lolled on to her shoulder.

“Sokka!” The water tribe girl came rushing from the tree line, seemingly to her brother’s aid, but froze in her tracks when she took in the scene before her.

“Sokka, what did you do?” Katara had yet to fully grasp the reality of war, she of course wasn’t dumb enough to think they had never caused any casualties, but she did her best to avoid it when possible, and Sokka always made a point to shield her from the direct kills. So seeing this… she didn’t know how to react in any way other than her nature.

Katara took a hesitant step forward, reaching out a hand. “Azula I can help, please let me,”

“Get away from her!” Azula snarled, tears beginning to flow freely down her face. “Ty Lee, Ty Lee wake up!” She began to shout desperately. She reached for the thing sticking out of her back.

“Azula don’t!” Katara moved closer, something like genuine concern splayed across her face. “If you just rip that out you could hurt her more, even sever her spine. You could kill her,”

“She’s already dead!” Azula screamed, slowly losing grip on her rational thoughts,

“No. She isn’t, but she will be if you don’t let me help you,” Azula could do nothing but hold her friend tighter as Katara hesitantly inched forward. She brought water to her palms. Azula braced for an attack, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of Ty Lee.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Katara said, finally kneeling in front of her. The water tribe boy hadn’t moved behind them, she wasn’t unaware of him but she was too distracted to ponder too much why he wasn’t attacking. She took the small mercy from Agni as the water benders hands began to glow.

“What are you doing?!” Azula yanked her away, the water splashed around them,

“I’m healing her, please don’t move. You could make it a lot worse.” Azula was hesitant, but she would take any chance for her friend right now. Katara then grabbed the object in one hand, glowing water in the other. She slowly edged it out as she supposedly “healed” her as she went. Azula did her best to keep her breathing steady, which was surprisingly easy due to her training.

The object was finally removed, and a couple of moment later Katara stood and quickly backed away. “There, she’ll be fine,” Azula didn’t have to be told twice as she scooped the still unconscious Ty Lee in to her arms and sprinted back off in to the woods without even a word.

Once she deemed them a safe distance she fell back on to her knees, tears beginning to wane just slightly. She was still hopelessly worried, but she took solace in the fact that at least there wasn’t a weapon sticking out of her and the bleeding had stopped.

Still, she held Ty Lee in to her chest as tightly as she could, and began rocking back and forth and muttering, “please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please-“

“Azula?” Came a broken voice, the princess sucked in a sharp breath.

“Ty Lee? What is it? What do you need?”

“You’re hurting me”

Azula noticed her crushing grip and half-laughed half-sobbed in relief as she loosened her grip.

“For Agni’s sake Ty Lee I thought you were dead!” Once she was sure the little acrobat wasn’t in fact dead- her worry was quickly replaced with anger and frustration.

“What? Why? Were you… crying?” Ty Lee reached up from where she still laid in Azula’s arms to brush her wet cheek with the back of her hand.

“Yes you idiot! I thought I lost you!” Ty Lee should have been startled at Azula’s anger- but she was used to her concern coming out as aggression.

“Hey, I’m okay. I’m right here. I don’t know what happened- but I’m okay,” The next thing she knew- the princesses lips were on hers. She pulled away for a moment, “Now I’m really confused, what is happening right now?”

Azula huffed and rolled her eyes, “Just shut up,” Were Azula’s only words before her lips crashed on to hers once more

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eeek! This one was definitely short and sweet but I kind of love it. I hope you do too!

Xoxo

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Now that I have written 19 (!!) Donald Pierce fics, I figure it’s probably time to organize them a bit for tumblr! So here we go!

Your Mercy’s Got Teeth, Baby: Here’s the thing. It’s technically in all of the Reavers’ contracts that they give Alkali-Transigen blanket permission to perform medical testing on their bodies after death. Donald just hadn’t figured that would still apply to someone who got revived. On the run from Alkali, Donald Pierce finds himself short on options and friends. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Logan is none too happy to see him again.

Heart, for a Loss: Five times Donald Pierce thinks he’s in love, and one time he actually is. (CW: non-con, underage)

Stand at Attention: After a tough mission, Donald Pierce and Frank Castle share some alone time.

What Nightmares May Come: The Corinthian reacquaints himself with Donald Pierce. (CW: implied non-con, implied child abuse)

What Good Girls Get: Truth be told he’d been expecting something more in line with ���power-drunk cop’ or ‘horny marine’ when Gabby had brought up the whole roleplaying thing a few weeks back. But he guesses he can’t begrudge her having a type, even if it means he’s gotta be some butch dyke at the grungiest lesbian bar in Mexico City. Donald figures he can be a good girl. Just this once, and just for her.

Twice Shy: Stranded in the past, Logan expects to spend the next few decades blowing his time and his cash on cheap alcohol in dead-end small towns. He doesn’t expect eighteen-year-old Donald Pierce, pretty, bitchy, smart as a whip, and on the doorstep of the rest of his life.

3AM After the End: While the mutant children continue on to the border, Logan is captured by what’s left of the Reavers. So is Donald Pierce. Turns out, they aren’t all too happy with their old boss. (CW: non-con)

Rinse and Repeat (and Repeat and–): Woulda, coulda, shoulda might as well be on Donald Pierce’s tombstone. Instead of dying, he finds himself continuously repeating the day that started it all, and gets to find out if he would, if he could, and if he should. (CW: non-con)

One Size Fits Most: Donald Pierce gets his most unusual prosthetic request yet. It ends up being kind of a blast.

Colorful Places series (completed: yes)

Friendly Favors, at Cost: Gabby had been expecting a bullet to the back of the head for her role in helping Laura and the others escape. Instead she gets a suite in a ritzy hotel, courtesy of Donald Pierce.

The Marrying Kind: Gabby and Pierce struggle to settle into their new life in hiding. Gabby realizes something’s gotta change.

A Study of Similarities series (completed: yes)

Variations on a Theme: Donald Pierce meets a different version of himself. He’s still deciding if he likes him.

Three and Just Begun: Donald Pierce tags along when Doc Donnie gets a booty call. He has a better time than he expected.

Winning’s in the Way We Lie: For some reason, there's no "Yes, I want to reveal deep and disturbing truths about our shared sexual histories with my clone" answer on the clonefucking poll. Donald wouldn't pick it, but maybe Doc would.

Where Wolves Fear to Prey series (completed: yes)

Good-Time Boy: It’s the first time in ages Donald Pierce hasn’t wanted to be the first guy out of the room. After a month of playing engineer for the Blackguard mercenaries, Donald is actually sorry to leave. Apparently they feel the same way, because he gets a surprise going-away party… and then the surprises just keep coming. (CW: past non-con, accidental non-con)

Like a Virgin: Donald wants to get fucked. He doesn’t want to have to like it.

Perfect Reflection series (completed: yes)

Deja Blues: Ty Shaw sees the taciturn stranger at the bar and sees an opportunity for some fun. It’s a pity the stranger sees something – or maybe someone – else.

Difference of Degrees: Ty thinks he’s just signing up for some sexy, naughty roleplay when Logan asks him to be sorry. Ty may be in over his head.

Belly of the Beast: Ty’s not in the mood. Logan is. (CW: non-con)

[dailydegurechaff]

time to pester rimu

this but Tanya and her stash

choco stash will never be given up.

[likeorpheus]

Francis doesn’t know when the weariness starts to creep up on them. Maybe it’s the overwhelming din of the Anaheim Packing District—the hum of conversation blending with the faint strains of holiday music, clinking glasses, and the shuffle of footsteps. Or maybe it’s the cloying scent of holiday candles wafting from one of the shops, an overbearing medley of cinnamon, pine, and something sickly sweet. The smell turns their stomach, and they press a hand to it, trying to breathe through the nausea.

The dizziness hits when they try to take a step. Their vision tilts for a moment, a strange, disorienting sway, and they grip the edge of a nearby counter for balance. Their fingers clutch the cold metal, and they close their eyes against the sudden vertigo. Lizzie’s voice cuts through the haze, steady and sharp.

@essentiamortis asked: “You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating. Why do you think you’re feeling dizzy?”

They glance at her, the world still tilting slightly at the edges. Lizzie looks every inch the composed figure she always does. There’s concern in her dark eyes, though, a faint crease between her brows that belies her otherwise cool demeanor. Francis tries to laugh it off, but it’s weak, and Lizzie doesn’t budge.

“It’s nothing,” they mutter, though even they don’t sound convinced. “Just... tired.” They try to wave her off, but the effort costs them—another wave of dizziness washes over them, and their grip on the counter tightens.

“Maybe too much to drink ? Is that possible? ” As an alcoholic, probably not.

[zukkaoru]

Hi Grace! I don't know anything about bsd, so I'm gonna stick with atla (if that's okay). Zukka with the fluff dialogue prompt: “I want to spend the day with you doing nothing.” please. 

it's been so long since i've written them so uhhh i hope this isn't terrible 🫣

(prompt requests are still open)

.

The morning sun filters through the windows, painting Zuko’s bedroom golden. For the first time in months, they’re allowed to stay tangled up with each other in bed past sunrise. Sokka traces his fingers up and down Zuko’s arms as Zuko’s lips ghost against his boyfriend’s jawline. For a brief moment, they are allowed to be nothing more than two boys in love.

“Sunshine,” Sokka whispers, and Zuko lifts his head just enough to let his eyes roam over Sokka’s face. Summer has brought out his freckles, and they dot his face like constellations in the night sky. He cups Zuko’s cheek with one hand, then says, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

Zuko hums in agreement. It would be nice, he thinks, if they had no obligations. If Zuko were not the Fire Lord and Sokka were not travelling constantly—if they lived in a world where they could hold onto each other outside the confines of this bedroom, if the world were not set up to oppose them.

“Me too,” Zuko agrees, then leans in to steal another kiss. “I’d take even just one day. I want to spend the day with you doing nothing.”

“One day,” Sokka muses. “One day of no responsibilities. Just you and me.” He sighs. “Maybe someday. For one whole day, we’ll lock ourselves in this room and do absolutely nothing.”

It’s a nice fantasy, unattainable as it may be. There are always things that require Zuko’s attention, and there are always people unintentionally pulling him and Sokka apart. But maybe one day, when Zuko has established himself as Fire Lord, when the world isn’t still reeling from one hundred years of war, they’ll be able to find a day of peace.

For now, though, Zuko will cherish the few extra minutes they’ve found this morning. It won’t be long before he’s called elsewhere, but until then, he’ll continue to kiss Sokka slowly, like they’ve got all the time in the world, and he’ll be content to have Sokka in his arms as the sunlight pours over them.

[thebrandywine]

don’t apologize for sweet treats hehe, i like literally anything you write 💕

`⎚⩊⎚´ -✧