#well. nice to see their face again i suppose. i guess i have been thinking abt them a bit lately

[ariasakka]

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!”

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

[phagodyke]

slept in until 10am I haven't been able to do this in over a month 😭

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[kajibunny]

.⋆｡🍓࿔˚what their kisses taste like...⊹ ࣪˖🍰˚⊹♡ w/ wind breaker boys

✿ featuring: ren kaji, haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, mitsuki kiryu ✿ contains: fluffy fluff fluff, looots of kissing, descriptions of the way they taste ✿ a/n: i honestly think they would all taste really good (•ᴗ<˶)✧₊ ⊹ that's it, that's the post i guess! happy reading, cuties! ♥︎ ✿ wc: 1.5k

ʚɞ kaji - 

kaji asked you to hold his lollipop for him, entrusting you with his half-eaten candy in your hands while he went to buy a drink from the vending machine.

you pop the sweet sucker into your mouth, an unconscious habit. ever since you two got together you've always shared everything with kaji, so sharing his lollipop should be no exception, right? 

"that's mine." his eyes are now fixated on your mouth, where his lollipop stick hangs out of, and he can't help but think about how it's just been in his mouth about ten seconds ago, and he wondered if you could taste him on it too. 

"i'll buy you some more tomorrow." you told him, with no intention of giving back his lollipop at all.

"it's okay. i don't mind sharing with you." kaji takes out the lollipop from your mouth and gives you a taste of his own lips instead, pressing it against yours fervently. 

oh, so that's what he meant by sharing. 

notes of peach faintly made its way onto your lips, and transferring over to his as well. "this is mine, too." he declares, once again staking his claim on your mouth, which tasted just as sweet as the lollipop he just had, maybe even sweeter. 

kissing you left such a nice taste, fueling kaji's desire for more, so much so that it made him contemplate about the thought of replacing his lollipops with your lips instead.

ʚɞ sakura - 

sakura is still so, so blushy around you, even though you two have spent multiple nights together, his face still flushes scarlet whenever you did your nightly self-care routine, your shoulder touching his while he was brushing his teeth over the sink. he finished up and rinsed off, while you waited for him with a huge, proud smile on your face.

"good job, baby!" you peck his lips, obsessed with the way he adorably heats up every time you praise him, this time it was for not forgetting to brush before bedtime.

"wh-what are you doing!?" he jumps up after he felt your lips on his, which tasted of spearmint from the toothpaste he had just used. 

"giving you your goodnight kiss!" you replied, with a matter-of-factly tone.

the next night, sakura brushed his teeth again in your shared bathroom while you hovered over the sink, your cleanser in hand. after rinsing his mouth, he just stood there expectantly, as if waiting for you to do something. 

he stared at you with a blush sprawled across his face. "y-you're forgetting something!" he blurted out. you shot him a puzzled look. "am i?" 

sakura's eyes darted down to your lips, giving you a hint of just what he needed from you. "oh, your goodnight kiss? if you liked it so much, you should have said so!" you giggled, smooching sakura's lips like there's no tomorrow. 

ʚɞ suo - 

to say that suo is playful would be an understatement. underneath that sweet, smiling face, lies beneath a naughty guy who has an obsession with the way you taste.

"you have a little teacake at the corner of your mouth." suo, feigning concern, points to the space beside your lips.

"where?" you ask as you try to search for it with your fingertips, to no avail. your eyes brought itself back to suo's scarlet ones, now inches away from your face. 

his lips captures yours in an unexpected kiss, and suo's tongue darts out to lick off the little crumb of teacake at the corner of your mouth. "there, all gone!" he hums happily, a grin on his face, drinking his tea as if his mouth was not latched on to yours just two seconds ago.

now you know why you barely ever get to see suo eat, it's because he'll only eat if it tastes like you. 

ʚɞ umemiya -

you were supposed to wake umemiya up from his nap on the hammock five minutes ago, but how could you? 

his eyes were fluttered shut, hair down and relaxed, umemiya's chest heaving softly, looking like he was so at peace. you hoped he had been dreaming about you, which he probably was, judging from the way a content smile made its way across his lips. 

you just couldn't help yourself as you angled down and gave him a quick little kiss. you giggled to yourself as you caught the aroma of fresh herbs from kissing him, he was probably picking and sampling them and decided to take a little nap afterwards.

umemiya's eyes slowly opened to the sight of you, him immediately wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the hammock with him. "i didn't even feel that, can you give me one more? pleeeease?" he pleaded, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. 

you complied, giving him another kiss, and he went to deepen it by pulling you even closer. "can you wake me up like this all the time?" umemiya could definitely see himself quickly becoming addicted to your kisses. 

you sighed and giggled, tightly embracing him. how could you ever say no to this man?

ʚɞ togame -

togame was definitely tall, no doubt about it. of course it has its perks and advantages too, like he can reach things for you really easily, he gave the greatest piggyback rides, he was your human furnace during cold nights, and the likes. 

but one thing his height got in the way of was kissing. particularly whenever you wanted to kiss him.

you tugged on togame's robe in a futile attempt to pull him down closer to you. a "hmm?" escaping togame's lips, as a little smile made its way across. he continued drinking his ramune while his eyes made its way to your form. 

"you're too tall, jo." you sighed. even on your tiptoes, you failed to bring his face down to your level so you could kiss him. 

"that so?" he let out a slight chuckle. togame eventually lends you a little help as he leans down until his face was directly in front of yours.

"you could've kissed me if you tried just a little harder, angel." he caresses your cheek, lightly teasing you, his lips capturing yours in a long, slow and passionate kiss. 

"i wanted to kiss you properly." a pout present on your lips. togame loved your cute little pout, it made him want to kiss you more and more. 

"don't worry, we can do it again and again until you are satisfied." 

jo togame was insatiable for you, loving the way you taste, always hungry for more. 

ʚɞ kiryu - 

you have been crushing on kiryu for quite a while now, him being 'totally your type', as you talked about him on and on to your friends, them eagerly listening to you gushing about kiryu's pretty pink hair, soft gentle eyes, beautiful piercings, cat-like smile and not to mention his silly hotdog phone case. 

your friends told you to just go for it, be bold and just ask him if he was dating someone already so that you could cease daydreaming about him occupying your thoughts all day and night, preventing you from getting a proper good night's sleep. 

"kiryu, is there a girl you like?" you nervously ask him.

"there is, actually." he replies. "would you like to see her? i can show you." 

oh. so he had someone he liked already.

the way he smiled as he gave you a direct answer made you want to bury yourself in the ground and never come out.

"y-yeah, sure! i want to see. is she pretty?" you tried to hide the discouraged tone in your voice, thinking about how kiryu's thoughts are probably filled to the brim with his crush, like what you had with him. 

"she is! super pretty! this is her." he picks up his phone and flashes the screen in front of you. half of you did not want to see the object of kiryu's desires, but you were curious and the urge to peek won over you. 

on his phone was a picture of none other than you.

it was a zoomed in photo of you, smiling and laughing while you talked with your friends, and it seemed to be taken after you had just waved "hi" to kiryu. it took a while for you to comprehend that what he meant was that the girl he liked all this time was actually you. 

"she likes you too, kiryu." your cheeks were tinged as pink as his hair, and as pink as kiryu's kissable lips. 

speaking of kiryu's kissable lips, they were making their way onto yours now, brushing against yours, as you felt the cold metal of his labret piercing touch the bottom of your lip. his lips were so soft and warm in contrast to his piercing.

"i've wanted to do that for a long time now." the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a sweet smile. little did kiryu know, you wanted his strawberry chapstick flavored kisses just as much, and maybe even longer.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 2: Woods + Day 23: Witch for @steddie-spooktober

"Did you come to burn the witch?"

Steve just blinked at the weird man. He was probably a bit taller than him, with wild curls of hair and a mischievous smile. "Why should I?" he quipped back. "It's fucking hot, I came to the woods to cool down. The last thing I want is to get even warmer. Fire's warm."

The man just snorted. "Oh, I got a smart one today. Good for me." He hopped down from the tree he was sitting in and landed in front of Steve. "Such a pretty one too. They never send someone pretty to burn me."

"Once again, I'm not here to burn you."

The witch clutched his chest. "Ouch. And here I thought we had a spark."

Steve didn't dignify that with a response.

And the witch didn't let that deter him. "You know, a spark? As in...a spark that would start a fire? With, I don't know, a nice stake in the middle?"

Steve groaned and rubbed his temples. "If I agree to burn you, will you let me sweat in peace? I hear a spring nearby and I really need to cool down before I pass out from the heat."

The man shook his head. "You people. You cut down the trees for your villages and then wonder why you get a sunstroke." He glanced at Steve's red face, his sweaty hair, and for a second longer, his damp shirt. "Well, I'm a mean, evil witch, but I'm not that cruel. The spring's this way, come with me."

It only took a while for Steve to take of his shoes and dip his feet into the nearby spring, groaning in relief. The witch was crouched next to him, studying his face. "So really. How did you get here? I thought I was a cautionary tale for all the good children in the village, so they never let you go this way unless you need something."

Steve muttered something unintelligible.

"Huh? What's that?"

"...got lost."

The witch's face broke out in a wide grin. "Did you now? Such a big boy, not seeing the warning signs on the trees?"

Steve just grunted and leaned down to splash his face with water, then drink some. "I don't know, man. Must have been the heat. I was working in a field and fell asleep. Stupid, I know. When I woke up, I was so dizzy I thought it was a great idea to go to the woods. I could barely remember my name - that's Steve, by the way, if you need it for a hex or something. I was walking around for what seemed like ages. Then you asked me to burn you. And here I am."

"And here you are," repeated the witch. "Well, you obviously don't have any matches on you, so we're cool, I guess. Name's Eddie, although I rarely use it."

"Because you're a big bad witch?" snorted Steve.

Eddie shrugged. "Well, yeah. Because when others talk about me, they don't think I'm a person. I'm a boogeyman to them. Someone who kills their crops, trades remedies for firstborn children for dinner...the usual stuff."

"Do they taste good?"

That gave Eddie a pause. "What does?"

"The firstborn children."

Eddie stared at Steve. Steve stared back. Then they both burst into laughter at the same time. "Suppose I should invite you for dinner so you can answer that?" said Eddie after they had finally quieted down.

Steve smiled at him, and Eddie could swear he winked at him. "Suppose you should."

...

Steve stayed for dinner - no children were served, but lots of vegetables and delicious herbs - and Eddie made sure he was fully okay before letting him go. "Sunstroke's no joke, Steve, no sleeping in the field or I'll curse you! Stop giggling, I'll do it! I'll send my cat to eat your ears or something!"

With Steve's footsteps sounding more and more distant, Eddie's cottage grew quiet again. For the fist time in years, he hated it.

The quiet lasted until the next evening, when there was a knock on his door, and behind it, Steve. He was carrying some grapes and apples, a fresh loaf of bread, and it seemed he'd even combed his hair and wore a clean shirt. 

Eddie just stared at him. "You got lost again?" he asked incredulously. Because no one came back to him. Not unless they needed something.

Steve just shushed him and headed directly to the table, setting the plates as if it had been his home too. "You know what's great about all the warning signs on the trees? They will always lead me back to you."

Eddie's face was starting to hurt from all the smiling. "So you can burn me?" he asked with a snort, well, maybe a tiny sob too.

"Burning you would be a shame," said Steve as he lit a small candle on the table, "since I have much better ideas how to spend our evening."

Eddie popped a grape in his mouth. "Funny," he mumbled around it, "so do I."

[luvf4ngz]

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance. 

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis. 

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful. 

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.” 

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles. 

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after. 

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.” 

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.” 

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp. 

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness. 

“I know it not ‘seems’.” 

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses. 

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.” 

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.” 

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!” 

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin. 

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns. 

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again. 

“Spiderman panties. Cute.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs. 

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders. 

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement. 

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you. 

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines. 

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal. 

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure. 

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs. 

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” 

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes. 

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” 

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion. 

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more. 

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white. 

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason’s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities. 

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue. 

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him. 

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath. 

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves. 

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it. 

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes. 

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.” 

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock. 

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan. 

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him. 

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support. 

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. 

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now. 

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm. 

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers. 

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction. 

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl. 

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds. 

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply. 

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach. 

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait. 

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap. 

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands. 

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock. 

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast. 

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you. 

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips. 

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now. 

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out. 

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt. 

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss. 

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy. 

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm. 

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it. 

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you. 

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks. 

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom. 

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

[starmocha]

fly to you like birds do Sylus/Reader | 2642 words | AO3 Sylus can't sleep A/N: I have no idea what happened. It was supposed to be just smut, but I guess we’re sandwiching the smut between some fluff instead. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ MDNI

It was well past two in the morning when Sylus stepped out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to his hair. He dried himself and slipped on just a pair of simple burgundy pajamas bottom. There was a heat wave outside, and though the air conditioner was running inside his home, Sylus still felt restless. He returned to his room, still tensed, knowing sleep was not going to be in his favor tonight.

He stopped in his track when he heard his phone ringing. How peculiar, he thought, considering the time. Stepping closer to his bed, he saw your picture and name flashed up on the screen. Smiling, he answered, turning on the speaker:

“Is this my pretty little hunter calling me?”

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before he heard your voice: “I dialed by mistake.”

“I’m sure you did,” he responded cordially, humoring you in spite of seeing through the thinly-veiled fib. He placed the phone on the nightstand and climbed into bed under satin cover. The sound of your voice instantly calmed him, and he continued, “It’s two in the morning. Why are you still up?”

Silence followed his question again. Sylus frowned. “Hello?”

“I’m hanging up,” you declared, tone a pitch higher than intended, clearly embarrassed by this whole situation.

“Wait,” Sylus interrupted before you could end the call. He continued, “Don’t. Chat with me.”

“It’s two in the morning,” you echoed his earlier words back to him, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted, and then with a sly grin, he continued, “Maybe you could help me.”

There were slight shuffling noises on your end before you answered, confused, “How?”

“We can chat until we’re tired,” he said, turning to his side to face the phone. “We can start with why you called me in the first place, and don’t bother trying to lie to me again.”

You sighed, knowing you were never good at hiding things, especially from him. You admitted softly, “I can’t sleep either.”

“And your first thought was to call me? I’m touched.” He laughed when he heard your flustered voice on the other end. “Alright, alright, calm down, I was only teasing.”

“I don’t appreciate it,” you grumbled.

“My apologies then. Won’t you forgive me, Miss Hunter?”

“I think not.”

He hummed softly in amusement at your defiance. “Perhaps you would feel better if you punish me then.”

“Eh?”

“I have clearly wronged you,” he said, voice tinged with humor, “it is only right that I should be punished for my misdeed.”

Sylus could hear you talking quietly to yourself, clearly contemplating his words. He laughed softly to himself as he stared at his phone, picturing you in your apartment flabbergasted by the direction of this phone call. “Alright, time’s up,” he spoke up to your shocked gasp, “I gave you plenty of time to think, so unless…”

“Meow for me.”

“Pardon?”

“Meow for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Sylus chuckled, confused. “Are you serious?” he shook his head and questioned you again, “You are asking the leader of Onychinus to…meow?”

“Uh huh,” you answered, this time pleased with yourself for reducing this powerful man to a state of utter bewilderment. “Please?”

He sighed. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he paused, and then he cleared his throat, “Meow.”

There was a pause. Sylus couldn’t hear anything other than the air conditioner running in his home, and just as he was about to check in on you, you spoke up with a squeal:

“You purred.”

“Is that not what cats do?”

“Well, yes. But. You purred.”

“We’ve established that already,” he said evenly, unsure of why this was making you so delighted. “Have I been forgiven?”

He smiled when he heard your giggle on the other end: “Yes, I’ve forgiven you.”

Sylus lay back down in bed, his eyes darting to the clock on his nightstand. He sighed. “It’s 2:35. Are you still restless?”

“Mm, yes,” you responded. “Are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep now?”

“I can’t sleep,” he reminded you again. “Then let’s continue. How was your day?”

Sylus lay there, listening to you describe your day, unbothered when you took too many tangents to get to a very anticlimactic ending of a very mundane story. He occasionally chimed in, but for the most part, he was more interested in just hearing your voice, listening to the subtle changes in tone and picturing your expression as you retold your day. He barely noticed you were done speaking until you called out to him, asking him about his own day.

“My day? Normal,” he answered vaguely.

“That’s cryptic.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, and you knew that was all you were going to get out of him.

“Sylus?”

“What is it?”

“What are you wearing?”

Sylus once again paused, surprised by the question that came out of left field. Once he composed himself, he smirked and answered, “Pajamas bottom. Should I also describe the color and material as well?”

“Please do.”

Sylus laughed and shook his head. “Burgundy and cotton.”

“Ah.”

Sylus raised a brow. “Not that I am complaining about this change in topic, but care to explain yourself, sweetheart?”

“I was curious,” you admitted in half-truth, “If I can picture what you are wearing, it would be like you are next to me right now.”

“How cute,” he cooed, unaware that he was making you blush with his voice, “Then may I ask what you are wearing, my dear?”

“An oversized shirt.”

“How unsexy,” he answered, disappointed.

“It’s yours.”

Oh. Well, that certainly changed everything, Sylus decided, intrigued now.

“My shirt?” The mental image of you in his shirt was definitely having an effect he didn’t realize it could. All wrapped up in his shirt, much too big for you, the sleeves too long, the length going down to your thighs—he was definitely appreciating the picture being painted in his mind. Sylus stifled back a groan, and continued in as even a voice as he could, “And how did you manage to obtain one of my shirts without my knowledge?”

“I took it from your place,” you confessed, “It was the one that I had accidentally spilled wine on, so I felt bad and tried to wash it out for you.”

“I appreciate the gesture, though I do have other shirts and it can easily be replaced.” He sensed your immediate quietness as a sign of embarrassment. He knew you did this as a sign of apology, and he quickly surmised his dismissive tone must have hurt your feelings, so he changed his phrasing: “Why haven’t you returned it to me then?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity,” you answered, tone dropping, a hint of sadness creeping through, “We haven’t seen each other lately.”

Ah. Sylus was catching on to the reason for this sudden late-night call. “And why are you wearing it now?”

Silence again.

“Sweetheart?”

That one word seemed to have broken a dam, and Sylus was surprised by the sudden quiet admission: “It feels like you.”

“You missed me,” he stated, and when he didn’t hear you respond, he wondered if his tone might have hurt you in some way again. He continued with a sigh, “I miss you, too.”

“Sylus…”

“I miss seeing you,” he added, knowing he was sounding a little more vulnerable than normal. “The sound of your voice…your smiles…the way…”

He paused, realizing the reason for his own restlessness. It wasn’t because of the heat wave happening throughout the city. Rather, it was the lack of a different kind of heat that was making him agitated.

“Sylus?”

“The way you feel in my arms,” he finished.

You didn’t respond, and Sylus laughed. “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

“N-No!”

“Liar.”

He could hear you huffing in annoyance. Just as he was about to continue in his teasing, you hit him with another piece of information about your sleepwear:

“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“I-I see…” He paused, contemplating, before he questioned you, “Nothing? No—”

“No shorts. No panties.”

Well, that picture had unquestionably gotten even more interesting for Sylus. He held back another groan, as he pictured now just your bare body, caressed by nothing but just his shirt.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” you teased him, feeling triumphant for finally having the upper-hand in this phone conversation.

“Such arrogance,” he mumbled low, smirking, “Maybe you should take responsibility for making me so hard then.”

There was a surprised squeak.

He laughed low. “Come now, it’s only fair.”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Don’t know?”

“I…I don’t know how…I mean we’re just talking…”

Sylus leaned back against his pillows and laughed. “It’s because we’re talking that I am feeling this way now,” he answered low, his hands already tugging his bottoms down to discard to the side. He groaned softly at the sight of his erect penis. He continued, “Aren’t you feeling something from our conversation?”

“Y-yeah…” you admitted, “I…I think I am…”

He hummed softly, closing his eyes, the image of you in his shirt was once again before him.

“Need my pretty little cock-warmer,” he murmured, his hand wrapped around his hard member, a clear soft hiss escaped his lips. He lazily stroked himself as he continued to speak to you on the phone, his tone carrying shades of sensualness, “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You flustered. “I-I have been…”

“No,” he interrupted you firmly, “Talk to me.”

“I…”

“Touch yourself,” he commanded.

You trembled at the sound of his firm voice, the dominating tone made you hesitantly slipped your hand inside the shirt you were wearing, your hand finding your breast. You toyed with your nipple, whimpering as it became firm.

“Where are you touching yourself?”

“M-my breast…”

Sylus hummed again, eyes still closed, but now he was picturing his large hand on your breast, massaging it gently, pinching your nipple until they were firm as you moan softly underneath him. He wanted to take that nipple in his mouth and sucked on it as he massaged your other breast, wanted to feel you squirm against him, your hands running through his hair as he ravaged you and keep you held down by the heavy weight of his body on yours.

“Sweetheart…”

“Sylus…”

“Take off my shirt.”

You immediately obeyed him. “It’s…it’s off.”

“Good girl,” he purred. “Lay back in bed, picture me with you.”

His voice sounded like it was an octave lower, soft pants escaped his lips as he continued to leisurely stroke himself. “Need you spread out beneath me.”

You felt a heat building up inside you as you listened to him speak, that devilishly deep voice always stirring something sinful within you. With each erotic word spoken by him, you parted your legs slightly and your hand moved lower to touch yourself somewhere much more intimate.

“Want to feel just how wet you can get for me.”

You let out a whimper, picturing his sharp ruby red eyes staring you down, his own fingers touching you. You rubbed your clit, tossing your head to the side with a moan, wishing it was his hand instead touching you, needing his lips on you, the feel of him against you.

“Want to taste you, sweetheart, eat you out until you come.”

You gasped at the picture, your legs trembling as you started to touch yourself more urgently. It wasn’t enough. You needed something more, something bigger…thicker—Sylus.

“Ohh, Sylus…”

“F-fuck…” he groaned at the sound of your moan. “Sweetheart, a man could get intoxicated hearing such sweet moaning…”

“Sylus…”

“Speak to me…what do you want?”

“You…”

Sylus let out a low moan, his pace increasing. “Sweetheart,” he gasped, feeling his arousal getting stronger at the sound of your voice growing needier, “need my cock buried inside you. Need my sweet little cock-warmer in my bed under me.”

He continued to mumble, “You always take me so well, always feel so good having you wrapped around my cock.”

That did something to you. You started to gasp into the phone as you writhed in bed, fingers sliding into your slick entrance as you so badly wished it really was his cock pounding into you. You curled up in bed face buried into your pillow, as you chased after the climax that was starting to build up inside. You couldn’t help the whines that came out of your mouth, knowing he was hearing every single incoherent word and noise you were making alone in your room through the phone. “Sy-Sylus…more…tell me more…please…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he was panting, sounding like, he, too, was losing himself in the image he was painting, “Want to hear more of your sweet moans, ah, want to see your face all flushed, all teary-eyed, as I fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want to feel my cock inside you?”

“Oh, god, yes!” Your hips buck against your hand. You were close, the way he described everything with that deep, rich, and sultry voice was having you clench around your own fingers. You rubbed your sensitive clit, but the mental image that it was him touching you instead had you crying out louder than expected.

“Need you now, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Need you so fucking bad, need you to cum on my cock, need to fill you up with my seed—such a good girl, such a pretty girl you are all flushed up as you take all of me—cum, cum for me, sweetheart—”

Sylus let out a groan at the same time he heard you screamed through the phone, the sound of your climax had him spilling into his hand. He lay panting hard in bed, his eyes shut, reliving the moment he heard you scream. The knowledge that he was able to bring you to orgasm through a mere phone call was a source of pride, especially when the two of you were so far away.

Still, he ached, wanting to feel your skin against his. He wanted to pull you into his embrace and let you relax in his arms as you both bask in the afterglow together. He wanted to feel your head resting on his chest, your soft hair brushing against his cheek, his lips on yours.

He sighed.

Several minutes passed as the two of you tried to even your breathing again. Sylus was the first to speak up, his voice soft and gentler than normal, “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

“No,” you protested this time in spite of your exhaustion.

“No?” There was amusement in his voice upon hearing your objection. “Why not?”

You were grateful he couldn’t see your blush. At his gentle coaxing, you admitted softly, “I don’t want to hang up.”

“It’s late,” he reminded you again.

Hearing silence, Sylus could sense your disappointment and he softened. “Alright,” he conceded, “Do you want to keep talking? Normally this time.”

He heard an indignant yelp for the latter comment before it was followed by weak mumbling: “I don’t know what to talk about…”

“What do you want then? Tell me.”

After a few beats, you confessed softly, “I just want to hear your voice.”

Sylus was both surprised and pleased. “My voice?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, then,” he started, a hint of mischievousness laced his voice, “If that is what my dear little hunter wants, then who am I to deny her this sweet request? Shall I lull you to sleep with my voice then?”

Your felt butterflies fluttering in your belly as he spoke. You knew he was relishing in this moment, but as embarrassing as it was for you, you were happy that he was so compliant.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said warmly, and you obediently followed his command, setting your phone close to you as you relaxed in bed. “And just listen to the sound of my voice…”

[latenightdaydreams]

Divorced!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, divorced couple, fingering, oral, p in v, light angst/fluff

1.8k word count

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After a failed marriage, you ended up with a 75/25 custody agreement with König; you getting your son 75% of the time. In the two years since the divorce, communication with König has been next to nothing. He asks you to communicate through lawyers and you agree, not wanting to deal with his childish rage. Every drop off has been done with you and his assistant. He’s found any way to ice you out.

This weekend is his, but you already informed his people of a trip your mother paid for all her grandchildren. König agreed to let him go and just take the next weekend. That’s why it's so surprising when your doorbell rings late Friday night.

Dressed in baggy shirt and biker shorts, you walk from the kitchen with a glass of wine in your hand. When you poke your head out the window to see who it is, you notice König’s Audi outside. Why is he here?

You open the door to be greeted by his intense gaze, his pale eyes locking onto yours. He’s wearing an expensive black on black outfit with a freshly shaved face. A small smile on his thin scarred lips. Different from his typical military uniform and stoic expression.

“Hello?”

“Hallo, Schatz.” His eyes drift up and down your body, appreciating your cute loungewear.

“What are you doing here?” You ask confused, his wandering eyes causing you to feel self-conscious.

“I’m here for Elisa.”

“I told you he’s gone with my family. Remember, you agreed for next weekend instead?”

“Ah.” König says, looking around, not moving. “May I come in?”

“Uh—I guess, yeah.”

You step aside to let him in. König walks in and sees the place he paid for in the divorce for the first time. It smells like you, home, and it’s comforting. You close the door and walk to him awkwardly, not knowing what to say. The surrounding air both feels thick and it’s uncomfortable.

“The place looks nice; homey.” He says, combing his fingers through his short hair.

“Thank you. And thank you for helping me with it—”

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what a man is supposed to do for the mother of his child.” He says, trying to act manly, but in all honesty it’s because he never stopped loving you. The dead air makes things more awkward before he speaks up again. “Cheap red?” He gestures to the glass of wine still in your hand.

“Yeah, my favorite.” You laugh softly and take another sip.

“May I have a glass?” His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, nervous of your rejection.

“Sure, yeah.”

König follows you close behind as you walk to the kitchen, silently cursing the baggy shirt you’re wearing for making it harder to check you out. There is light stubble covering your legs, making him smile; recalling what it felt like rubbing your legs late at night before bed. His eyes observe you as you open the bottle of wine and carefully pour it out. He can tell that he’s making you nervous and hopes it’s because you still feel butterflies with him.

You step forward and hand the glass to König, his large fingers graze your own causing his stomach to do a flip. His eyes lock with yours as you lean back against the counter. He brings the glass to his lips taking a small sip of the overly sweet cheap wine.

“Danke.”

“Yup.” You pour yourself more wine as you run through all the possibilities of what he might be here to talk about. Is he stopping spousal support? Asking for more days with Elias? Is he getting married? You turn to König once more. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been…well.” He takes a small sip of wine breaking eye contact. “You?”

“Same.”

“That’s good.” The same painful silence plagues the air. “The place looks nice.” He repeats himself.

“You said that already.” His eyes snap to yours.  “So why are you really here?”

“I- I.” He looks around the room trying to think of an excuse, he forgot his original one. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Why? We haven’t talked in…years.”

König’s face turns a light shade of pink as he feels the heavy guilt of just cutting you out. In all reality, when you filed for divorce, it shattered his heart. The only way he could move on is if he pretended you never existed, but that hasn’t worked.

“I’m sorry about that. I always just wonder how you are, so I decided to show up.”

“Why not call? Email?” You put your glass down on the countertop behind you. “That’s what a normal person would do. Why are you really here?”

“I’ve missed you.” His voice comes out in a broken whisper before clearing his throat.

König looks down at you with the softest puppy eyes, waiting for you to respond. He knows that his neglect in the marriage is what led to its downfall so he doesn’t have much room to ask anything of you. His ego was too big of him to ask you for a second chance then, but these years without you have proved he can’t do it.

“What?” You snap.

“I said—”

“No, I heard you. Why would I care? Did you get dumped?”

“I never had a girlfriend.”

You look at him for a moment before snapping again, bringing up every moment that you can think of when you asked him to work on the relationship. Reminding him that he is the one that cut all communication between the both of you. He has been the one to give up and leave so easily while you drowned in life alone.

König didn’t dare defend himself or interrupt you. Everything you’re saying is completely correct. He just stands with slumped shoulders and a face full of regret. His eyes drift to your lips as you speak, noticing the way your soft lips pout as your words grow more emotional. With each second that passes, he gradually approaches, one small step at a time until he ends up just inches away from you. His free hand reaches out and cups the side of your face. Without another word, König leans in and kisses you.

A rush of powerful emotions comes flooding back to you. Just feeling his lips against yours once more was enough to melt you. Your lips press back against his as your hand grabs the glass from his hand and sets it down.

König wraps his arms around your waist and hoist you up on to the counter. His tongue presses past your lips, tasting your sweet tongue as he swirls his around yours. The kiss only briefly broken as he pulls your shirt off, tossing it onto the kitchen floor as he looks down at your braless breasts; just as perfect as they were last time he saw them.

König’s lips meet your once more while his hands move up to cup your breasts. He twirls your nipples between his fingers, leaving a trail of wet kissing down your side of your neck to your breast. In slow motions König flicking his tongue over your nipples. His rock-hard cock twitches in his pants.

“König, maybe we shouldn’t.”

“I need you, please.”

His fingers trace over the elastic in your shorts, pulling them off when he feels you lift your hips. A soft hum leaves his lips when he sees the floral-patterned underwear concealing what he craves the most right now. He wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you closer to him as he drops to his knees in front of you.

The warmth radiates between your legs, he craves it. His lips press against the cotton fabric, taking a deep breath in to savor your scent. He kisses hungrily, feeling the small wet spot growing on the fabric. With two fingers he slips underneath the fabric of his panties and touch your folds. His eyes meet you as he slips them into you, studying the expression of pleasure riddled across your face.

You drop your head back, resting on the cabinets behind you. Soft moans leave your lips as his thick fingers curl up pressing against your g-spot. His teeth pull your underwear to the slide more, slipping his tongue up and down your glistening folds. Your fingers find their way combing through his short hair.

The loud desperate moans leaving you only encourage him. This feels like when you were both younger and spontaneous, before König pushed you aside for work. He feels your sweet arousal begin to drip down from his fingers to his palm, your pussy white and creamy. His name leaves your lips like fire as you orgasm. Once your body stops trembling, he slowly withdraws his fingers from you. With his tongue flat, he licks the thick cream off your thighs and from between your cheeks, making sure he cleans you up.

Your eyes meet him as he stands up, rushing to undo his pants. His cock springs free as his pants fall, he pulls his shirt over his head to discard along with the rest. The look in your eyes is dreamy, full of lust of love.

König leans in and kisses your forehead as he lines himself up between your thighs. It’s been so long since he’s had sex, the fact it’s you he has again feel so unreal to him. He will never throw away the privilege of having your body ever again. You’re so beautiful, every inch.

As his cock slips in your jaw drops, a stuck moan lingers until finally he presses in completely. His forehead is presses against yours as his eyes close, letting the warmth consume him. One arm snakes underneath your thigh and pulls you forward more.

His broad hips snap against yours, a mixed melody of you both moaning fills their space in the kitchen. Your feel his hot breath brush across your face, he looks down at you through half lidded eyes. The silky walls of your cunt hug his cock so perfectly, he’s forgotten just how tight you are.

“You feel so fucking good.” His voice is almost a whimper. “I love you. I love you so fucking much, y/n.”

Your hands caress his jawline, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. König responds by thrusting harder into you. The sound of your creamy cunt and feeling of your soft lips push his body to the point of no return. His hips slow to attempt to prolong the pleasure, but he can’t. His cock throbs deep inside of you, cum slowly dripping out when he pulls slightly.

The both of you try to catch your breath, his hands not leaving you as he squeezes you tightly as if he’s scared to let go. König gently lifts you from the counter and walks to the couch. With gentle hands he rests you back against the soft fabric. Still not pulling out, he climbs on top of you and hugs you to his body. He hopes that this is a sign of reconciliation.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya@urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝟐 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue prompts taken from the silent hill 2 remake, developed by bloober team. trigger warning for dark themes. feel free to change as you seem fit. )

❛ in my restless dreams, i see that town. ❜

❛ hey, it's okay. i didn't mean to scare you. ❜

❛ i'm kind of lost. ❜

❛ i guess i don't really care if it's dangerous or not. i'm going either way. ❜

❛ what happened to this town? ❜

❛ whatever it is, it's not human. ❜

❛ i didn't do anything! he was like that when i got here. ❜

❛ you wanna come with? maybe together we can find a way out of this town. ❜

❛ sorry, but i can't leave. not yet. ❜

❛ are you afraid? ❜

❛ did you find the person that you were looking for? ❜

❛ don't worry, i'm not crazy. least, i don't think so. ❜

❛ should i go with you? this town really is dangerous. ❜

❛ what's a big dumb-dumb like you doing here anyway? ❜

❛ hey, that's not very nice. didn't your parents teach you any manners? ❜

❛ do i look like your girlfriend? ❜

❛ i can't believe it. your face, your voice... you could be— ❜

❛ i don't look like a ghost, do i? see? warm. ❜

❛ i can show you if you want. unless you have somewhere else to be? something else to do? ❜

❛ hey, easy there. i'm just messing with you. ❜

❛ you're coming with me? can't you just tell me where it is? ❜

❛ what, you were just gonna leave me here? alone? with all these monsters around? ❜

❛ is it because i remind you of... her? ❜

❛ this place we're going to, what is it, exactly? ❜

❛ you ever stay in a place like this? the walls are so thin you can hear everything. love, hate, jealousy... ❜

❛ i think you just saved my life back there. ❜

❛ hey. you think i'd look good in this one? ❜

❛ this room... there's something wrong with it. i think we should leave. ❜

❛ oh, loosen up. it sure beats running around with those monsters out there. ❜

❛ what will you tell her if... when you find her? ❜

❛ oh, c'mon. don't give me that look. i was just kidding. ❜

❛ can we stay? just for a little while? ❜

❛ this place, this whole thing, it's like a nightmare. i just wanted to get away from it, even for a second. ❜

❛ here. something to take the edge off. ❜

❛ we should probably get going. ❜

❛ we could come back later, if you want. you know, in case we need a break. ❜

❛ i wanted to ask you... what if you can't find [ name ]? what will you do? ❜

❛ thanks for checking up on me. it's very sweet of you. ❜

❛ how do you know my name? ❜

❛ i'm sorry, but i can't let you just run around this place. you might get hurt. ❜

❛ please open the door. there's something in here. ❜

❛ i was almost killed back there! i've never been so scared in my whole life! ❜

❛ all you care about is that dead wife of yours. ❜

❛ you couldn't care less about me, could you? ❜

❛ stay with me. don't leave me alone again. you're supposed to take care of me. ❜

❛ i don't know, for some reason i feel like it's up to me to protect her. ❜

❛ well, whaddaya know... a stroll in the rain. how romantic. ❜

❛ i'm trying to keep things light. just humor me, okay? ❜

❛ you think you could give me a hand? ❜

❛ you're supposed to be the big man around here. how's a little girl like me supposed to help? ❜

❛ what's wrong? i thought you wanted to get out of here. ❜

❛ this place is different from what i remember. i guess... things never really stay the same, do they? ❜

❛ you... still don't want me to go with you? if we stick together, we just might make it out of here. ❜

❛ ain't no big deal. just put the gun to their head and... pow! ❜

❛ you can't just kill someone 'cause of the way they looked at you. ❜

❛ please. i'll be good. i promise. ❜

❛ it's always the same with you. you're only after one thing. ❜

❛ i don't know who you think i am, but i don't want to hurt you. ❜

❛ i thought that thing killed you...! are you hurt? ❜

❛ but that thing... it stabbed you. there was blood everywhere. ❜

❛ stabbed me? what do you mean? ❜

❛ honey... did something happen to you? ❜

❛ are you confusing me with someone else? ❜

❛ you said you took everything. but you forgot the videotape we made. ❜

❛ it doesn't matter who i am. i'm here for you. ❜

❛ see? i'm real. ❜

❛ don't you want to touch me? ❜

❛ i'll come back, i promise. ❜

❛ how many times do i have to kill you? ❜

❛ it doesn't matter if you're smart, dumb, ugly, pretty... it's all the same once you're dead! ❜

❛ you wanna talk down to me some more? tell me to relax? ❜

❛ you know i'll find you! ❜

❛ guess i deserved it, huh? the fartface that i am. ❜

❛ you got any other things planned? i think i saw a dark room back there you could lock me up in. ❜

❛ where are you? i'm waiting for you. please, come to me. ❜

❛ i think you were right. what we're looking for... it's not here. ❜

❛ thank you for helping me earlier... but i wish you hadn't. ❜

❛ i know what you are. i know why i needed you. but it's all over now. i don't need you anymore. ❜

❛ it'd be easier if they just killed me. ❜

❛ why are you still here? i told you to go. ❜

❛ wait! please don't go. don't leave me alone. i didn't mean what i said. ❜

❛ please... tell me i'll be okay. ❜

❛ i'm here for you. so what if i'm not her? ❜

❛ i can give you what she never could. i can be better than her. ❜

❛ what else do you want me to be? ❜

❛ i won't let you do this to me. i won't let you go. ❜

❛ the truth is, i hated you. ❜

❛ i wanted my life back. ❜

❛ i tried. i really did. but... i just... can't go on without you. ❜

❛ i can't forgive myself for what i've done. ❜

❛ i want you to go on. i want you to live. for yourself and for others. ❜

❛ you made me happy. ❜

[dollfacefantasy]

Under the Influence ♡

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

summary: when you and dick are left with an extra sedative after a mission goes wrong, you share a little fantasy of yours with him

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, intoxication kink, drugs + drinking, praise + degradation

word count: 3k

tags: @nexysworld @gor3-hound

"I wonder how it feels."

The simple sentence falling from your lips was the start of this whole thing. Dick turned to where you sat at the bar next to him sipping your drink. He raised an eyebrow, trying to determine if that was some sort of attempt at a joke.

"I don't think it's a real mystery," he says and shrugs, "We were basically gonna roofie the guy."

The two of you had been assigned by Bruce to follow a suspect potentially involved with a string of recent kidnappings. You were to incapacitate him, and then bring him to a rendezvous where he could be questioned upon his return to consciousness. Only the problem tonight was that the target hadn't shown up where he was supposed to, leaving you and your boyfriend with an extra sedative on hand.

"Yeah, I know that," you respond with a roll of your eyes, "But... I don't know. You never wonder how it would feel?"

"No," he nearly laughs at you. He struggled to see why that thought would ever cross his or your mind. Taking another swig of his drink, he can see you leaning in closer out of the corner of his eye.

"You never think about how it would feel, getting all dizzy? Drifting off and feeling totally dazed, other people doing everything for you?" you ask, your voice getting softer as your breath fans over his ear.

"No, but I'm starting to get an idea why you might," he says and glances over at you again, "You have something you wanna tell me?"

Next thing he knows, your hand is on his thigh and you're looking at him with the sweetest pair of puppy dog eyes you can manage. Your nose is close enough to brush against his own. If he had to guess, he'd say you'd had this little fantasy for a while now.

"Lemme try it, Dick. Gimme the pill," you plead, "It'll be fun. Everything'll be up to you, every thought in my head up to you."

A smirk grows on his face at your devotion. Your desire to give him so much control over you that it felt like ownership. His fingers come up to your jaw, holding you by the chin as he kisses you. It's lingering and wet. A little bit of saliva coats your bottom lip when he pulls away.

"Y'know... if you wanted to try something like this, all you had to do was ask," he says lowly.

Smiling, you peck his lips again as his hand slides past you to drop the tablet in your drink. You nip at his bottom lip before pulling back and reaching for your glass to down some more of the liquid within it. You go to put it down, but he stops you by your wrist.

"Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to drink the rest for me. You want your head to get all nice and fuzzy, don't you?" he says.

You nod while staring into his pretty blue eyes. The cup returns to your lips and the rest of the booze slides down your esophagus.

"Good girl," he croons. His amorous smile begins to reach his eyes as his voice continues to lower, his words meant for you and only you. "Let's get you another one of those before we go."

He orders one more, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. Once the bartender brings it to you, his lips find the space behind your ear and tease you there while you drink.

"Look at you, doing so well for me. You're so eager to shut that brain of yours off," he coos.

You nod again and nurse your glass until it's empty. Your head is already starting to swirl a bit, and you wonder if the blossoming arousal in your belly has any effect on it. You can't help melting into Dick's affection right now, your head floating over to rest against his. He hums in approval and nuzzles the crook of your neck.

"Feeling it already, baby? Or do I get you dizzy all by myself?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you mumble, your eyes fluttering shut. It felt like the music was slowly getting louder while your surroundings were sliding further away. Dick was the anchor keeping you from slipping away with it all.

He chuckles at your defiance and decides it's time for the two of you to head out. The drug was entering your system, and Dick didn't think it would be the smartest idea to make your exit by tossing you over his shoulder while you were knocked out.

He tucks you to his side and guides you over through the doors over to the car. He can almost see the gears in your head slowing down on the walk to the vehicle alone. You stay pressed up against his toned torso until he can get the passenger door open and deposit you in the front seat. Once he's done, he leans down, buckling you in and giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises before heading over to his own side of the car. You lazily preen at the compliment. He can't help but laugh at how delayed the reaction is.

The drive back to your apartment feels like it only takes a minute. You don't know if that's because Dick is as eager as you are or if the sedative has already stolen your perception of time. All you know is that your eyes start to droop, and your head tilts over and bonks against the glass window. It feels nice and cool though, so you keep it there.

When he parks the car, you feel like you're still in motion. The world feels like it's spinning all around you, rotating in every direction all at once. You don't even hear his commands to you before he opens your door and you nearly topple out onto the pavement. His quick reflexes and strong arms spare you a busted up face.

He smiles as he pulls you up to stand beside him and locks up the car. You're considerably more out of it than you were while leaving. He leads you to the elevator and pulls you inside. Standing behind you, he laces his arms around your waist and rests his chin over your shoulder.

"You wanna press the button, honey?" he murmurs in your ear. His grin becomes absolutely smug as your head wags back and forth in a haphazard gesture for no. "Oh, why not? Need me to do that for you too? Silly girl, can't even hit a button by yourself anymore."

He pushes you against the wall as the elevator car starts to move. The spinning feels even stronger than before now that you're physically moving vertical. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tussling with your own. He can taste the liquor on you. The manifestation of your mental state.

A few seconds later, a ding sounds through the confined space. You miss it for obvious reasons, but it nearly passes Dick by too. He's so wrapped up in you, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts. But he does reluctantly pull away, reveling in how disheveled you look from less than a minute of making out.

Now he has the privacy to take you over his shoulder, and he does. He boosts you by the hips and drapes you over himself like it's nothing. You giggle too loud for this time of night. Your feet swing weakly in what are probably your distorted mind's version of kicking. He gives you a firm swat on the ass while walking down the hallway to your shared unit.

"Calm down, angel. Don't wanna drop you on your head before we get to the best part," he teases.

You laugh more, the idea of a cracked skill greatly amusing your intoxicated mind. He shakes his head with amusement and squeezes your ass cheek. As soon as he reaches the door, his free hand fishes the keys out of his pocket and makes quick work of the lock.

He kicks the door shut behind the both of you and glides through the apartment to your bedroom. You go flying onto the mattress when he flings you from over his shoulder to the soft blankets. More little giggles pour from your lips, and he takes a moment to enjoy the sight of you, his usually focused and determined girlfriend squirming on the bed and laughing her ass off at nothing in particular.

Crawling onto the bed, he positions himself on top of you.

"What's so funny, baby? Think you should share the joke with me?" he says as he leans down to kiss you again.

Your lips kiss back as best they can. His shaggy black locks brush across your forehead as he deepens the exchange, picking up where you left off in the elevator. You're still simpering slightly against his lips, but it doesn't stop him from keeping your head in place and absorbing you through the kiss.

"What's got you so happy, hm?" he mocks.

"You," you grin against his lips.

"Me?" he asks between smooches, feigning ignorance, "I'm the reason you got that pretty smile on right now."

"Yeah," you laugh and boost your head up overzealously for more.

He pushes you back down and kisses you harder before pulling back completely and gazing down at you. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin. You return the look with glossy doe eyes, only somewhat aware of everything that's going on.

"Are you sure it's me? Or is it my kisses?" he asks teasingly, "I know how you love kissing."

"Those are the same thing," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, are they? My mistake, princess," he says and ducks down to give you more.

He can feel your limbs wriggling underneath him, trying to slip out of your clothes. It's too big a task for you right now. Your movements weren't strong or coordinated enough. All you managed to do was get tangled up in your outfit and make it look as if you were wearing a straightjacket.

"Woah, woah," he chuckles, "Let me help with that, baby. That's too hard for you right now, isn't it? Your brain can't handle all that."

With his careful movements, he maneuvers your arms out of your top, and removes your bottoms as well, leaving you in a delicate pair of panties and your bra.

"So precious," he coos as his fingertips ghost over your now bare skin.

You squirm like a virgin and smile shyly like Dick isn't your boyfriend but rather a little crush. It's now his turn to laugh at your behavior.

"Yeah, you know you're precious, don't you? Even when you're all dumb like this," he says while his fingers work away at the clasp of your bra, pulling it from your chest.

You sigh as your tits are freed from their confines. His mouth trails down your jaw, over your neck, and to your chest. He kisses your cleavage first, just massaging the mounds of flesh with tender hands. It's not long before his lips move up one of them and latch onto a nipple. He swirls his tongue around the bud and feels it harden from his efforts.

You moan and arch your back, the drug erasing the part of you that suppresses your reaction to pleasure. Your thighs rub against one another until his hands slide between them and pull them apart. He grinds himself against your center, drawing more mewls from you.

"That feeling good? You're never gonna be too out of it to understand that," he breathes before licking a stripe over your one nipple and moving to the other.

He quickly removes his own shirt so his skin can press against yours while his mouth works on your breasts. Your hips roll against his as he continues to grind. His bulge grows harder and he can already tell that the fabric of your panties is clinging to your folds from how wet you were.

His hand slips down to confirm his theory. He chuckles against your tit when he feels how slick you are. Completely soaked. His digits slide through your arousal with ease.

"We're gonna have to do this more. Who knew all it took was a few drinks and a tiny pill to turn you into a total slut," he mocks.

"'m always a slut for you," you slur and reach up to pull his hair, wanting his lips back on your own.

He indulges you and moves up again to kiss you.

"That's true. Bet you were wet before you even took the pill. Your pussy was probably dripping just imagining it," he mutters.

His fingers hook around the hem of your panties and tug them down. He then works on shoving his own pants off and releasing his stiff cock from its restraints.

"My pussy drips whenever I look at you," you say. He knows it's supposed to be seductive, but it comes out sounding like a confession. That and you burst into another giggling fit after. Either way he finds it cute.

"That's cause I've got you so well trained," he tells you as his length springs free. He pumps it while guiding it to your entrance. "She knows to always be ready for me. Even when your head can't keep up."

He slides it in you with no resistance. Your heat welcomes him readily, squeezing around him with instinctive speed. You choke out a moan from how he sinks all the way in. There was no need to go slow or tease. You were ready, and you were in no state to be teased. Your pussy squelches around him as he rocks his hips, starting to thrust. You turn your head to his own to try and bury your face against him. The pleasure felt more distant in a way, but it was still present and building with every stroke.

"There you go, sweetheart. This is so natural for you. Head empty with your cunt stuffed full," he croons, "Taking it like a perfect little whore."

You whine and nod faintly, the words swirling around the air before sinking into your head. He ruts into you harder. Your juices gush from you and smear over both of your skin while your head bobs from the momentum he's putting into fucking you.

"Dickkkkk," you whine and grab at him aimlessly.

He presses you harder down into the bed and grunts against your neck. His fingers hold your hips tight enough to leave marks. Fine with him. He wouldn't mind a reminder for the next few days of tonight.

"Surprised you can even remember my name, babydoll," he taunts.

"I'd never forget that," you babble.

He chuckles breathily at your words. They were pretty sweet to come out of someone getting pounded into the mattress. Sounds of his skin smacking against yours emanate through the room. His shiny hair becomes damp with sweat.

"My baby, all mine, yeah?" he murmurs. 

No response comes from you this time. Instead, you yelp as he swivels his hips and drills into a special spot inside you. Every time he strikes it, it's like any remaining power you have to function seeps out of your brain.

"Oh, there she goes," he coos as he watches you slip away, "That's my girl."

"Dick, fuck ah-" you whimper weakly.

He nuzzles your cheek. "Don't try to talk. That's too hard for you right now. Pretty little thing like you just needs to stay quiet and let herself get fucked full."

"Mkay..." you mumble. Your expression is a mix of that stupid little smile from before and a pouty look you often took on when you got horny. He couldn't get enough of either.

"Fuck... 'm gonna cum soon, angel," he groans. You tighten up even more like you're trying to keep him inside forever.

He hisses at the sensation. Shoving his hand between your bodies, he slides his fingers over your clit, stoking the flames of your arousal to get you to explode for him.

You're not lucid enough to tell him you're close. You just let go. Your eyes flutter and your legs kick. Your heels dig into the mattress while you gasp and whine in his ear.

Once you've cum, it's like a switch flips in your brain, and it knocks you the fuck out. You're babbling nonsense for him, panting and clinging to his sweaty body as best you can while going limp. You vaguely feel him cum inside you, the familiar warm and comfy feeling of being full overtaking you.

He collapses on top of you after he releases. Waves of pleasure still course through him like aftershocks. Your bodies feel like one as your chests puff against one another's.

Eventually he climbs off of you, and looks down at you to see how gone you are. He chuckles softly as he watches you try to curl up and sleep right then and there. He goes into the bathroom and grabs a towel, returning to clean the both of you up.

You can sort of feel it. It's a gentle swiping feeling. He's so careful with you though, so gentle. He makes sure no touch startles you or hurts. When he's done, he slides a fresh pair of panties on you and pulls an old t-shirt over your head. You sway in place as he does it, and he finds your perpetual daze as cute as all the moans from minutes ago.

"Almost done, sweet girl," he murmurs as he finishes up. The words don't register exactly, but you understand them as a comfort. The low and soothing tone he used was familiar enough to you for your mind to understand it without specifics.

When he really is done with everything, he finally returns to you. You pull at him with grabby hands and curl right up to his chest, wanting to be held. He was never one to deny you normally, so there was no way he would while you were all sleepy and confused. He pecks your temple and rubs your back, prepared to baby you until the sedative has completely left your system.

[cosmicpearlz]

fragile hearts

summary: two public figures that try to navigate their relationship with such hectic schedules. at some point, it was bound to come crashing down, right?

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

valentine's day, cryin' in the hotel

i know you didn't mean to hurt me,

so i kept it to myself.

-

meeting jude had been a complete accident. you had a show in madrid, causing some of the players from real madrid to go. he happened to be one of them, along with vinicius, brahim and eduardo. naturally, you invited them backstage because you were a fan of the well-known football team. jude couldn't take his eyes off of you. memorized by the way you performed on stage. the confidence that flowed from you with every word you sang.

it's been a year since you first met. being boyfriend and girlfriend hasn't always been easy, because of the fact that you guys have to do long distance but you made it work.

"baby!" you yelled across the house, rushing to find jude. you found him sitting on the bed, watching tv. he looks up towards the door when you came running in.

"what's going on sunshine?" you jumped on him and hugged him tightly. jude chuckles, while wrapping his arms around you just as tight.

"i was just asked to perform in barcelona! they have a festival going on and want me to perform."

"that's amazing baby. when is it?"

"on the fourteenth." jude's eyebrows furrowed.

"on valentines day?"

"yeah."

"i have a match that day. you said you would come." he slowly removing his arms from around your waist. you tilt your head in confusion and sit up in his lap.

"i didn't think it would be a problem. i'm at almost all of your matches."

"why didn't you ask?"

"why do i have to? this is huge for my career for them to even want me there."

jude taps your leg gently, making you get out of his lap. in a way, you felt hurt. this was suppose to be a happy moment for you and your boyfriend wasn't being as supportive.

"well congratulations i guess," he grabs his phone and walks out. you sit there dumbfounded at his behavior. you would've never treated him like that. why couldn't he be supportive of this great opportunity?

-

the days leading up to the date were quiet. it was like a switch flipped off in jude. you guys went from spending pretty much every waking moment together to not even having a conversation that lasted more than five minutes. feeling like strangers rather than boyfriend and girlfriend.

you woke up before jude, knowing he had to leave early and decided to cook him breakfast for valentine's day as a surprise. cooking everything you knew he liked and plated it nicely. you almost couldn't contain the smile that was forming on your face. awkward phase or not, jude was the love of your life and that wasn't going to change.

"good morning baby! happy valentine's day," you walked in the room, finding him siting up against the headboard. you handed him one of the plates and sat across from him on the bed.

"happy valentine's day m'love. thank you for breakfast," jude leans forward and places kisses to your cheek and lips.

"i wanted to do something special for you. oh, plus, i have another surprise for you after my set." the boy's mood was quick to turn sour once again.

"I have my match, remember? oh yeah, you don't care enough to remember."

"jude," you sighed and placed your plate in your lap. "your match is at 10 am and then my set is at 6 pm."

"why can't you come to the match then?"

"they want me there early. i'm sorry babe."

"yeah whatever," he goes to eating the rest of his breakfast in silence.

"please don't spend the rest of our morning like this." you were met with silence, leaving you no choice but to wallow in it. "can you come to my set?" you quietly asked, hoping the answer would be yes even though he's upset. you guys were each others good luck charm.

"we'll see."

"jude, please don't be like that."

"i said, i'll see if i can make it. i don't know what you want me to say," he gets out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. leaving you behind with a ache in your chest.

"i just wanted you to say that you'll be there," mumbling to yourself, you get up and follow him to the kitchen. jude stood over the sink washing the dishes that was left from you cooking. you slide your plate and fork in the sink, wrapping your arms around his waist after.

"if you can't make it, i understand. just please come to the hotel that my team has me in. i really do have a surprise for you."

"okay." you placed a kiss to his shoulder blade and unwrapped yourself from him, giving him space.

-

you were buzzing for the rest of the day. excited that your boyfriend's team won the match and this was your first time performing in barcelona. you texted jude, congratulating him on the win. as you were getting dressed, you were hoping that jude would be there in the crowd. especially since madrid was only a six hour drive away from barcelona.

"you ready rockstar?" you excitedly nodded at your manger kate. she gave you a high five and patted your back. you gave her one last smile, before letting the stage production guide you to the stage.

"hello barcelona! thank you, thank you, thank you for inviting me to play," the screams from the crowd making your heart warm. "i'm so excited to play for you all. let's get started, yeah?"

jude watched as you danced around the stage. it reminded him of the first time you guys met. he always loved seeing you in your element. absolutely letting go and just being yourself, while you sang. the boy started to feel guilty about not being happy for you when you first told him the news. he was being petty and reminded himself to apologize when he sees you backstage.

"i love you guys so much. thank you for being here and inviting me! goodnight barcelona," you blew a kiss and waved, as you walked off the stage.

there jude stood with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you jumped into his arms, pulling him down into a tight hug. he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist.

"you did so good baby. i'm unbelievably proud of you."

"i can't believe you made it."

"i was dick but i could never miss this moment. love seeing you on stage," jude places kisses all over of your face, causing you to giggle uncontrollably. you pushed his head away and smiled.

"i still have a surprise for you! we should get going."

"after you m'lady," jude dramatically bows as you lead the way. you were excited to finally have a conversation that lasted more than five minutes. going back to the way you guys were before.

-

"okay, so i worked really hard on this. i wanted to do this as a 'i'm sorry for missing your match'. i really hope you like-" you were cut off by jude's phone ringing. he took the phone out of his pocket and answered it immediately.

"nah, I'm not busy at all," your brows furrowed hearing him say that. it felt like a punch to your gut. as if you weren't showing him the surprise you had been planing for weeks. it takes a couple minutes before he gets off the phone.

"i'm sorry babe, i have to go."

"what?"

"the team wanted to go out to celebrate the win. i'll be back before midnight. i love you," jude kissed your lips and then moved to place one to your forehead as well. he was already walking away before you could get another word in. sighing to yourself, you walked into your hotel room.

you had the room decorated with balloons and rose petals everywhere. figuring that because it was valentine's day, he deserved something nice. instead, you were in the room alone. hoping that he'll be back before midnight like he promised.

-

he wasn't there. didn't answer a text message nor any of your calls. you waited, watching the time go by quickly. this was enough to make you question your relationship. jude was usually really good with his promises. did he do this on purpose because you missed the match?

"happy valentine's day jude," you whisper to yourself, drinking from the bottle of champagne you bought for your shared time together.

you silently cried to yourself as you watched the clock hit one o'clock in the morning. you felt so alone and unwanted. jude would rather spend time with his teammates than his own girlfriend. maybe the long distance wasn't working for him anymore. maybe he was still being petty. all you knew was that you were hurt. even crying didn't ease the pain that lingered in your chest.

[suzukiblu]

. . . anyway LISTEN I told 'yall November was gonna be "obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU" month, and I really did not INTEND to post my daily words for it again this year but also, like, fuck it, we ball. No promises I will update EVERY day this time around but again: fuck it, we ball. ( also uhhhhh I've been writing this fic kinda-sorta-semi out of order lately but there is still a significant chunk of word count I'd already written that I would've pre-gamed and posted YESTERDAY if I'd thought I was gonna be doing this, sooooo hope nobody minds us kickin' off the month with like an extra 5.9k on top of the 1.6k of obligatory sugar that I ACTUALLY wrote today behind this here cut? yes? no?? Bueller???? )

get sugared, Super-boytoy. Tim, you just . . . you just do your future-supervillain best over there, buddy. you just do what you can with yourself. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I wanted to,” Tim says again, and Kon glances away and bites his lip, turning the flowers by the stem again. 

“It’s, uh–pretty,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s–cool. Thanks.” 

“If I can’t bring you fresh ones, well . . .” Tim shrugs. Kon glances back to him, and very briefly presses one of the orchid blooms against his own mouth. His face is still all flushed and his eyes are still a little soft, and it’s . . . it makes a picture, alright, even if it's not one Tim's specifically set up to take. Especially with the gold eyeliner and his blue eyes both matching the orchids. 

Tim didn't plan that, obviously, but he thinks it makes up for the sapphire versus ruby thing.

“Um . . .” Kon trails off, biting his lip. Glances down at the orchids from under his lashes. It doesn't make him any less of a picture, for sure. “So, um–do you wanna see the ‘something nice’ I got?” 

Tim blinks, immediately thinks of the most embarrassing option that Kon could possibly mean, and desperately tries to fight back a mortified flush at the idea. But, well–everything he can see Kon wearing is something he remembers buying him already, so . . . 

Oh god, he needs his brain to shut up right now. Immediately. Right now and immediately and forever. 

“Sure,” he says like a normal person, trying not to panic. “What is it?” 

Kon, thank god, pulls a little rectangular package inexplicably–and inexpertly–wrapped in newspaper comics out of the same coat pocket he tucked the jewelry box in. There's plain white string tied around it in a bow. 

Tim . . . blinks. 

If he didn't know better, he'd think Kon had . . . 

“I, um, got you something?” Kon says, and Tim stares blankly at the package. He–what? “For once, anyway. Well, I guess, uh, technically you got it for yourself, and actually this is kinda stupid maybe, you can literally just get yourself whatever you want whenever, obviously, but I just thought, uh–” 

“You got me something?” Tim repeats in surprise. Kon turns pink and shoves the package at him. Tim is too bewildered not to take it. 

“I thought it’d be, uh–fun,” he says, biting his lip and still very visibly blushing. “I mean–that we could have some fun with it. Y’know?” 

Tim stares at the package for another moment, then looks up at Kon. Alright, this maybe isn’t exactly the vibe he was going for here in terms of who’s paying for what and who’s giving things to who, but . . . well, Kon apparently used his allowance for whatever this is, at least, which gives him a reason to have wanted the allowance, so . . . he can work with that, he figures. Like, it’s an “in” to work from; a step in the process. 

He can’t tell what Kon’s gotten him from the shape of the package, though the edges are hard even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in a box or anything. “Have some fun” isn’t much of a clue, though he supposes it does imply something interactive. Maybe it’s a game of some kind, or–

Tim unties the bow and splits apart the clumsy seam of the comic-page wrapping paper with his thumb, tugging through its layers to reveal the package’s contents, and Kon flushes a little darker and watches him just a little bit nervously. 

Tim doesn’t actually know what to say. 

“I just thought, um, a real one’d probably take better pictures than a phone can,” Kon says sheepishly, slanting his eyes away and half-hiding his face behind the orchids. “I made sure the battery was charged and the guy at the store said it's got a lot of storage, I guess, so . . .” 

“You got me a camera,” Tim says blankly, which is the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him short of, like . . . no, it’s pretty much just the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. By far it’s the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. 

“You like taking pictures, right?” Kon fidgets a little, then smiles just barely shyly as he glances back at him. Tim's heart skips a few beats. Or more than just “a few”, maybe. “So, um–I thought maybe we could go do that . . . somewhere. You know, after dinner.” 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him a little stupidly. It’s not a particularly good camera, honestly–like, it’s a perfectly functional model for casual amateur use and a decently reliable commercial brand, but he’s got much better ones that are all professional-quality. He hasn’t used any of them in a while and most of them are admittedly a few years old now, but . . . yeah, this was a hundred bucks max, if that, and his cheapest camera was over five hundred. 

Note to self: raise Kon’s allowance. 

Also, apparently now his favorite camera is the kind of camera civilian amateurs just take random family photos on. Apparently that’s a thing. 

Tim really doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kon not only remembered something he mentioned having an interest in, Kon bothered to actually get him something he thought he’d have an interest in. That is really, really not the dynamic he’s been encouraging here, for one thing. And also, why even would Kon do that? Like–really? 

“Thanks,” Tim says sincerely, turning the camera over in his hands and feeling incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “I love it.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, biting his lip around a smile. His face is still a little pink and he looks all soft and pretty like that, especially with the flowers still in his hand. Tim really was not prepared for Kon having “soft and pretty” in his repertoire. Like, that was not a thing he ever expected to see from his cocky, crowing brawler of a teammate. 

Kon’s only a brawler because he thinks he’s supposed to be, though, Tim’s pretty sure. Like–increasingly sure, at this point. 

He really, really needs to figure out how to get Kon to tell Robin more about his TTK. Or, like . . . anything about it, apparently. Just literally any single thing, at this point. 

“Thank you,” he says again, inspecting the camera assessingly and making note of all its functions and ports and the generally obvious basics. “We could go take some shots around downtown later, if you’re up for that?” 

Kon turns bright red, and Tim doesn’t understand for about half a second before remembering–the last time Kon had talked to him about taking pictures, he’d offered . . . 

Oh Jesus. 

Tim is either incredibly stupid or–actually, he doesn’t even know. Lucky? Embarrassing? The dumbest moron alive who didn’t even realize he was being flirted with again? All those things and several even worse ones? 

Kon had offered to let him take spicy pics of him the last time they'd talked about taking pictures, whatever “spicy” means to Kon–brash, impulsive, shameless Kon–and Tim’s the idiot whose first thought upon Kon following up that conversation by very literally giving him a camera was to go take pictures of fucking downtown.

He is the most useless “sugar daddy” to ever sugar. 

Well, to be fair, it is Gotham downtown, so it’s very–

“I like taking pictures of streets and buildings,” he blurts belatedly, fumbling to sound like just the oblivious idiot that he is and not some kind of weird fucking perv who’s trying to get Kon arrested for public indecency. Jesus, he’s stupid. “And people-watching is interesting too. You know, stuff like that.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks several ways at once, including both a little relieved and a little disheartened, which . . . okay, Tim would literally die if they actually went somewhere to take spicy pics tonight, so is unfortunately unavoidable. He’s not trying to make Kon not feel–attractive or anything, but he needs at least twenty-four hours to make a plan and also two or three or seventeen contingency plans before . . . anything like that happens. Ever. Even in theory. “Um–yeah, sure. That sounds cool.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, still desperately pretending to be an idiot. It’s not hard, on account of the fact that he very much is an idiot. 

Kon pauses for a moment, then perks up a little, seeming to think of something, and asks–“When’s dinner?” 

“Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes,” Tim says, double-checking the time on his phone just to be sure. “Well, forty-six. I figured that’d let us take our time walking over and maybe we could window-shop a little on the way.” 

And also shop-shop a lot, if Kon gives him literally even the slightest indication that he wants or needs something. Just if it comes up or anything. That’s all. 

Tim definitely did plan their route to the restaurant to cut straight through the middle of the downtown shopping district, either way. 

“We could’ve just met there, dude,” Kon says wryly, but grins anyway, glancing down at the orchids in his hand again. “Forty-six minutes, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Tim confirms. 

“And you like taking pictures of streets and buildings?” Kon asks, his grin turning just a little bit sly. Tim frowns briefly in confusion, not sure what the grin’s about. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotham has a lot of really interesting architecture and design. Like, it’s an old city, and one that’s been pretty resistant to updates in a lot of areas or just not had the money for those updates. So you get a lot of places with a lot of character and it’s basically the bastard child of gothic and art deco design with a side of industrial warehouse, depending on the part of town you’re in. Like, Crime Alley and the Diamond District have very different vibes, but they’re both very Gotham vibes, if you know what to look for. It’s–” 

Kon is grinning really widely at him, for some reason. Tim realizes he’s rambling like a moron and turns red. 

“Uh,” he says, repressing a wince. “Yes. Yeah. I like taking pictures of streets and buildings.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, and then he carefully packs the orchids back into their box and it back into the gift bag and transfers the chocolates and jewelry back into it too, then grins even wider at him as he hooks the bag’s handles over his arm and into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t drop the camera, babe.” 

“Wha–” Tim starts to say, and then Kon grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the closest alley, which is terrible survival instincts for Gotham, oh god, but before Tim can say anything about that Kon’s wrapped an arm around his waist just tight enough to just barely lift him off his feet and bolted straight up into the air with him. “Shit!”

Tim doesn’t drop the camera because he’s held onto cameras while falling off literal buildings before, but definitely only because of that. Muscle memory, or whatever. Also he’s been snatched off his feet by Bruce and Dick plenty of times and thrown off rooftops by multiple rogues and thugs over the years and these days gets regularly dragged around by Bart, all while holding very important things he could not afford to drop, so it’s not like either the sudden jolt or the effort to keep his grip on the camera are as disorienting as it otherwise would be. Just . . . 

Ugh, Tim realizes, absolutely unimpressed with himself upon realizing that the breathless feeling he’s having right now is not actually related to the swift and sudden increase in altitude, but is actually just because it’s Kon holding him. 

He is an idiot, isn’t he, he reflects resignedly. Just an actual literal idiot. 

Jesus. 

“Whatcha think?” Kon asks with a grin as he comes to a stop in mid-air with him. He stops very suddenly, but Tim notices a distinct lack of jarring with said stop, which implies Kon’s got his TTK around him again and probably completely around him, which means–

Oh god, Tim thinks, and very quickly makes himself stop thinking about that. 

“It’s cool,” he says, because a normal civilian would think flying was something interesting and unusual, but it’s hard to act too excited about a move Kon probably pulls on literally everyone he–

“I meant the view, babe!” Kon says with a laugh, and Tim . . . blinks. 

And then he looks down. 

They’re hovering a few thousand feet up, and downtown is already lit up bright in the early evening gloom. And Kon . . . 

“Streets and buildings, as ordered,” Kon says, grinning wider with a smug, cocky look on his face. 

Oh no, he’s hot, Tim realizes with dread, and then blinks again. Stares down at the city below, past the whipping wind and down into the busy streets and the bright, dazzling lights cutting through the murky gloom. He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, obviously, because of course he has–he’s been climbing these rooftops for years, and every night he runs across and swings back and forth between them and utterly fails to learn how to do more than a double backflip. 

One day, he promises himself distractedly, and then looks back at Kon. 

He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, but never just because someone thought he’d like it. Like–not like this, he means. Dick's shown him a few particularly special or exhilarating views over the years, yeah, but . . . definitely not like this. Not for a reason like this. 

And definitely not while peacocking all smug and pretty dressed up in clothes that he bought him and holding him close enough to kiss. 

Kon’s expression turns a little sheepish; a little soft. Not quite shy, but . . . 

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice pitched a little quieter, and Tim has the much worse and even more dread-inducing realization of oh no, he’s CUTE.

He swallows, briefly, and feels his face burn. 

“Yeah,” he manages in an almost-normal voice. “I like it.” 

Kon grins at him, brighter than any city light, and Tim barely keeps himself from dropping the camera after all. 

“Thanks,” he attempts awkwardly, making himself focus on the camera and resisting the urge to take an immediate shot of that city-light grin. 

Then he takes one anyway, because of course he does. Kon laughs in surprise, then makes a face at him teasingly. 

“Hey, you can buy this face in any cheap gossip rag, focus on the fun stuff,” he jokes, jerking his head towards the city below. Tim looks searchingly at him for a moment, and then for obvious reasons snaps another picture. Kon flushes a little again. They probably won't even come out from this close, but . . . 

“You’re the most fun I’ve had all week,” Tim says, which is definitely too honest but clearly necessary to make a point of saying. Kon turns redder, ducking his head and grinning around his bitten lip. 

“You don’t have to say that kind of thing to me, man,” he says, and it comes across almost like a reflex. Tim hates . . . yeah, just literally everybody Kon’s ever known in his whole entire life, actually? Like, pretty much everybody? Bart gets a break because he grew up alone in VR and is therefore terrible with people and the girls get a break because they haven’t known any of them that long, but everybody else can just take a long walk off a short gutter, in Tim’s opinion. 

Especially any “everybody” from Cadmus. 

Or Metropolis, at this point. 

“I’m not saying anything I don’t want to say,” he says simply, and goes to the effort to frame a few shots of the skyline so Kon will know he appreciates . . . well, not the angle, exactly, but the thought. 

Technically he is usually on top of a building when he’s doing this, so the angle is actually a slightly different one than he’s used to–not that he’s been taking photos lately, just–not the point, really. Kon got him a camera and brought him up here because he clearly thought he’d like it, and damned if Tim is gonna do anything to make him think he doesn’t. 

He has better cameras for things like this–aerial shots and night photography and long-distance and the like, and better cameras for closeup candids too–but he already knows these pictures are all going to be exactly what he wants them to be, even the ones that don't come out. 

Or especially those, maybe. 

He's not sure how he'd explain that feeling to someone else. 

Kon flies them around, staying out of sight behind the light pollution and among the shadows of the buildings, and Tim takes . . . a lot more pictures than he needs to, actually. He was just trying to make sure Kon knew he appreciated him thinking of him, but actually . . . 

Well. 

It’s fun, that’s all. 

It’s . . . been a while, kinda, since he got to spend this much time on just photography and nothing else. Or–any time at all, really. 

Not that this is nothing else, obviously, given that Kon’s holding him and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything besides that, but it is the kind of a view a standard civilian never gets, and it’s kind of nice to be flying for non-work-related reasons, for once. Like . . . novel, he guesses. A different experience. 

Technically he and Dick do “fly” together just for fun, sometimes, but that’s different. Like–so many kinds of different. It helps them in their work–keeps the rooftops familiar and them both in shape and in sync–but he can’t take photos when he’s trying to keep up with Nightwing across the rooftops of Gotham, and it’s not like Dick’s carrying him either. 

Also, it’s much less flustering and difficult to concentrate through, because again, Dick is not carrying him, and also Dick doesn’t do things like wear clothes he bought or do his eyeliner and paint his nails for him. Or, uh . . . anything like that. 

Also, definitely the “spicy pics” thing is not at all a thing, with Dick. Like, not even slightly, in any way whatsoever. And they’ve also never made out in a changing room or the back of a planetarium or– 

Look, there’s a lot of ways it’s different, okay? 

A lot of ways. 

“I'm not boring you, am I?” Tim asks a little bit sheepishly as Kon lands them on a ledge just behind one of the bigger gargoyles, tucked in tight in the shadows between it and the building it's perched on. “We can probably still fit in some window-shopping before dinner, if you want.” 

“Oh my god, dude, I promise we can do things you don't have to spend money on,” Kon says with a laugh as he lets him down on the ledge. “Though if it helps you technically did spend money on this, given how I got the camera and all.” 

“It's your allowance,” Tim says, because he wants to make sure Kon actually gets that. “You can spend it however you want.” 

“Well, I spent it how I wanted,” Kon says, and then steps closer into his space with a smile. Tim ends up sitting on the gargoyle’s back as Kon leans down to kiss him, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone while perched on a gargoyle before, but somehow it feels like something new anyway. New and electric, bright and easy and smeared with the city lights and thrilling in its shadows, and– 

Kon breaks off the kiss, though he keeps a hand on Tim’s arm, probably to make sure the squishy untrained civilian won't accidentally fall off the ledge and get splatted on the concrete. Tim barely holds himself back from chasing his mouth. 

“It's cool, anyway. Um, doing stuff you're into with you, I mean,” Kon says, looking a little soft and almost-shy again, and never mind, Tim not only needs to chase his mouth, he needs to set up a damn manhunt for it. “You're real cute when you get excited, man. I mean, uh–just–” 

The manhunt is going to require a very significant budget, Tim notes. 

Then he kisses him again, obviously. Kon melts down into it–into him, really–and wraps his arms around his neck, and Tim feels several kind of ways about it. Admittedly, it's the easier option with him sitting on the gargoyle and Kon leaning over him, but Kon's put his arms around his neck a couple of times now, and, well . . . 

That's just not something he would've expected from him, he guesses. Not “cool” or masculine or badass or . . . whatever, exactly, Kon thinks he's supposed to be. 

So Tim . . . likes it, he thinks, that Kon doesn't seem to think he needs to be like that around Tim Drake. 

Robin’s sure as hell never seen Kon in eyeliner. 

Robin's loss, Tim thinks. 

. . . maybe he's compartmentalizing a little too much these days, but still. 

Kon makes a very, very soft little sound between their mouths and then laughs, and Tim promises himself he won't stop at Gotham: he'll take over Metropolis for this asshole one day. Even if that means putting up with Lex Luthor and Superman. And also, like . . . everything about Metropolis. 

He'll figure it out. Supervillainy is still a long-term plan, so he's got time. 

Anyway, if he gives it to Kon after he takes it over he won't have to put up with it, so it's whatever. Sugar daddies do that kind of thing, right? Get their sugar-ees a city? 

. . . okay, definitely not. Like, very definitely not. 

“Okay date idea, then?” Kon asks as he leans back a bit and does a very bad job of biting back a smile, his face a little flushed and arms squeezing a little tighter around his neck. 

Tim will get him Metropolis if it kills Lex Luthor. 

“Very okay,” he says, smiling back at him. Kon grins, his face turning just a little bit redder, and then kisses him again. Tim has absolutely no complaints about that. Ever. He can’t even imagine a complaint he’d have about that, in fact. 

Worst case scenario, he’ll get them in at another restaurant if they miss their reservation. 

He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to do about how easy Kon blushes. 

They definitely spend too long making out against the gargoyle and Tim definitely lets himself get too riled up during it–and does not think about tactile telekinesis or any kind of related passive perception while he does–but by the time he’s the one pressing Kon back against the building, he really doesn’t care anymore. 

The fact Kon is even willing to let him do that when there is literally no way Tim could ever actually pin him anywhere without a way to sabotage his powers is . . . really, really distracting. Just–so distracting. 

Jesus, Tim thinks, breaking off just long enough to catch his breath for a moment. Kon pants softly against his mouth, which sabotages that even worse than kryptonite would sabotage TTK. 

Jesus, Tim thinks again, and then crushes their mouths back together. 

He doesn’t need to breathe that often. 

Kon makes a softer, breathier sound this time, and Tim does not let himself make it weird by letting his hands wander anywhere outside of second base territory. Frankly he’s not sure second base territory isn’t him making it weird, but Kon started it, so hopefully it’s not? Like–logically it’d follow that Kon wouldn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want touched, right? 

Well–hopefully, anyway. 

The air feels tight, Tim notices suddenly, like the feeling of sinking into deeper pressure when underwater but all at once, and then realizes–oh. 

Uh. 

Okay. 

“Um,” he says, and immediately the feeling of pressure vanishes as Kon jerks back and claps a hand over his own mouth. Which is mostly him pushing Tim back, given their position, but he does crack the brickwork behind him a little. 

Whoops, Tim thinks. 

“Sorry!” Kon blurts. “Sorry, sorry, that’s–sorry! I just, uh–got a little too into it. I won’t do it again.” 

“It’s really not a problem,” Tim says, with absolutely no idea how to take the idea of Kon getting “a little too into it” when kissing him, or the idea that getting a little too into it apparently involves getting wrapped up in TTK a lot more noticeably than making him bulletproof at the museum did. “I mean–it didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.” 

“I–yeah, I know, it’s just–weird,” Kon says, still looking mortified. “So–sorry. That’s all.” 

“I don’t mind weird,” Tim says, because actually the idea of being temporarily at least as invulnerable as Kon is while making out with him implies being able to devote a lot more attention to said making out, as opposed to keeping half an eye out for snipers or rogues or random rooftop criminals. Not that he’d stop paying any attention to that, obviously, just–yeah. Well. 

It’s a little tempting, that’s all. 

“Uh–you don’t?” Kon bites his lip, still looking a little embarrassed. 

“It kind of just felt like scuba-diving, but with less equipment involved,” Tim says with a little shrug, keeping his tone light because “seriously, you have no idea how much I’d like to not be compulsively keeping an eye out for snipers right now” isn’t a very “civilian” thing to say. “And I’m not about to complain about you enjoying kissing me that much either way.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and flushes a little. “Uh–really?” 

“Really,” Tim says, smiling at him again and tugging gently at the lapels of his jacket to pull himself back in. Kon blushes, and grins, and meets him halfway for the kiss. The sensation of pressure wraps him up again, gentle but undeniable, and Tim feels several kinds of ways about it. 

Maybe even a little bit safe, or at least as safe as anyplace outside the Batcave ever gets. 

Tim knows there’s no such thing as being perfectly, completely safe, but getting all wrapped up in Kon’s TTK and kissed for it makes it hard to remember that. 

Very, very hard. 

They spend a much longer time making out this time. Tim is vaguely aware that they still have a dinner reservation to make, but . . . well, he did pad the time to allow for window-shopping, so even with the time they spent flying around taking pictures, it's probably fine? 

Yeah, no, they’ve definitely missed their reservation by now. Probably way past missed it. Just so, so far past missed it. 

Weirdly, Tim doesn’t care as much as he should, even though he really prefers when things go to plan and also needs Kon to feel appreciated and like he got properly spoiled and taken someplace nice. He’s going to have to figure out something else on the fly, though, because he really does needs Kon to feel appreciated and also needs the excuse to get him more used to getting money spent on him and–

Tim remembers that he needs to breathe more than he's currently breathing and breaks off the kiss. Kon half-chases his mouth with his own, audibly breathless himself. Tim is not equipped to handle Kon breathless. 

That might actually be more flattering than the TTK thing. Or, uh–flustering, maybe. 

Both, maybe. “Both” is probably accurate here. 

Jesus, Tim does not know what he did to deserve Kon getting breathless over something he’s done to him, much less all soft and pretty and–

They have definitely, definitely missed their reservation. Usually Tim has a better sense of time than that, but usually Tim doesn’t have Kon wanting to make out on a Gotham rooftop with him, Like, he thinks he can forgive himself a little bit of disorientation on that one, considering. 

. . . as long as Bruce never finds out he messed up that bad, anyway. Because Bruce would definitely not like hearing he’d messed up that bad, TTK or not. 

Probably especially involving the TTK, actually. Probably Bruce would not take “yeah I let Superboy get distracted enough to unconsciously wrap me up in his Kryptonian-level superpowers while he wasn’t in full control of them and actually, like, encouraged it, kinda? like, explicitly encouraged it, actually”. 

Yeah, Bruce would not like that. 

“Um,” Tim says, and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “So, uh–hungry yet?” 

“You could say that,” Kon murmurs, then flashes him a sharp, wicked grin with his eyes slit open just enough to fix on Tim’s mouth. Tim spares a moment to compartmentalize just enough to not lose his mind about that, then makes the mistake of licking his lips anxiously, sees Kon’s hooded eyes go hot at the sight, and immediately fails to not lose his mind. 

“Uh,” he manages, and then decides they don’t really need to get dinner just yet and maybe they could just, like–no, no, Kon is definitely not getting enough calories from that stupid barely-legal underground lab’s stupid definitely-not-health-code-compliant cafeteria, Tim is not gonna be a bad enough date to not get his date a respectable amount of calories. That is just not a thing that he’s gonna, like . . . thing, as a thing. Or whatever. 

Not like Superman’s been bringing Kon casseroles or anything, the prick. 

“Um, I–uh, might’ve let us get a little too distracted, sorry,” Tim attempts after a moment of mental fumbling, making himself push back from Kon a little and pulling his phone out to check the time. Yeah, they have definitely missed their reservation. Very, very thoroughly have they missed it. 

Dammit. That is not Bat-quality situational awareness. 

“You think that was just you, man?” Kon asks with a little laugh, just barely ducking his head and biting his lip. It is . . . very distracting. As is his face. And his hands, which are still loosely on Tim’s back, and his TTK, which is still loosely . . . basically everywhere, yeah. Just–way too many places for Tim to be rational about, basically. 

“I mean, I was the one who made the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly as he does his best to at least fake rationality. “So, uh, I should’ve been paying attention to the time. I can see if there’s someplace we can still slip in, it’s a little last-minute for a Friday but–” 

Kon kisses him again. 

Tim was saying something, he’s reasonably sure, but he couldn’t remember whatever it was with a gun to his head. A gun to his head while out of his suit and without Kon on the same floor as him, to be clear. 

Kon leans back and grins at him, all bright and pretty and cutting right through the shade and shadows of Gotham like a spotlight-signal lighting up the cloud cover. Tim remains vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing . . . something. At some point. In theory. 

God, Kon is so pretty. So, so pretty. And everything he’s wearing is something Tim bought him, coat and clothes and jewelry and all. Just–all of it, as far as he can see. 

Tim does not let himself think about what else Kon might or might not be wearing right now. Just–that way lies madness, and also Kon not getting a decent dinner and decent spoiling. 

. . . there’s probably some other ways Tim could spoil him, technically, if he just– 

Tim does not finish that thought. 

“You’re so fucking cute, daddy,” Kon says, still grinning just as signal-bright and pretty at him. Tim is not prepared for literally any of that and nearly melts right off the ledge into an incoherent mess of street pizza. 

“Uh,” he says, swallowing roughly. “We should–are you hungry yet?” 

Kon laughs, for some reason. Tim very quietly and carefully burns alive, and then Kon floats up a few inches and ducks around him and back out into the open air, leaning down to grin at him and reaching to–probably he’s intending to pick him up again, Tim’s brain is vaguely aware, but the rest of Tim is thinking more like hurr durr pretty boy, which is definitely why he ends up reaching up to cup Kon’s face in his hands and tug him down for another kiss, pushing himself up on his toes on the edge of the ledge to reach him easier. Kon makes a soft, breathless little noise, then laughs in delight and kisses him back. 

The wind is cold and sharp and the evening sky is all heavy dark clouds and hazy light pollution and Kon’s wearing clothes Tim bought him, some of which Tim even suggested to him, and he put on makeup and painted his nails to come see him and he’s got a gift bag of little things Tim picked out for him hooked in the crook of his elbow and he liked all of those little things, and they’ve not only missed but obliterated their dinner reservation, and they’re half-on a ledge high above the street and kissing and Kon is just so pretty.

And Kon also bought him a camera and brought him up here because he thought he’d like it and called him “cute”, which are all facts that Tim is definitely going to have to compartmentalize to fully process later, or else he really will melt right off the stupid ledge. 

The spicy pics thing, also, is a thing. The spicy pics thing is, uh–very much a thing. 

Tim is maybe just never gonna process that particular fact in, like, self-defense. 

Ever. 

. . . god, he’s going to have to process that fact at some point, isn’t he. God. That is . . . that is a whole thing that he is going to have to do. Like, effectively and well and throughly.

Maybe it’s not too late to just go supervillain right now, actually. Maybe Kon would be open to, like, minionhood or something. Lots of supervillains put their minions up in their lairs, right? That’s totally a thing, isn’t it? 

Ugh, no, Kon deserves a place he can really feel like is his place and also he has not laid near enough groundwork to get Dick to switch sides. Like, Alfred would, obviously. Alfred will be on-board the second the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan comes up and will probably have useful notes to add. But Dick is gonna require some more long-term finessing and Babs definitely won’t come if Dick doesn’t and– 

Kon laughs into the kiss and cups Tim’s face in return, which is incredibly distracting, and then squishes his face, which is incredibly annoying. 

“Hey!” Tim sputters, and Kon laughs again and leans back just enough to grin at him. 

“You are so weird, dude,” he says. “I can literally hear you thinking.” 

“. . . that’s not me being detached from the situation, I–” Tim starts, unable to repress a wince, and Kon just grins wider, grabs his wrists, and tugs him off the ledge and–oh, okay, that’s a weird sensation, Tim notes, because gravity does absolutely nothing at all to him until Kon’s pulled him into his arms and wrapped him up in them again all easy and secure. . 

So that’s . . . yeah, no, “incredibly distracting” isn’t actually gonna cover this one, considering. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking a couple of times. That. That is definitely not how Superboy holds Robin. 

Frick. 

“I just gotta keep you better attached, right, daddy?” Kon purrs–really purrs, his chest briefly vibrating against Tim’s–and then grins wider at him again with eyes that are, unfortunately, literally goddamn sparkling right now–thanks, gold eyeliner, Tim didn’t need those higher thought processes–before giving him another quick little kiss that Tim actually would like to turn into a four-hour make-out session and maybe also a sleepover and–

God he needs to remember how to compartmentalize. He really, really needs to remember how to compartmentalize. 

Also he needs to kiss Kon’s literal friggin’ brains out, the smug friggin’ asshole.

Mid-air makeouts are the worst possible idea Kon has ever inflicted on him and Tim would sooner fight Killer Croc without his utility belt than point that fact out to him. 

He winds his arms around Kon’s neck and kisses him back, and Kon makes this tiny little–not pleased, not content, but actually happy-sounding noise and kisses back harder. Tim feels gravity stop being a particularly relevant concern again and feels like he’s floating in deep, heavy water but also like he’s the lightest he’s ever been in his life, and it is . . . it is a feeling, alright. 

Kon is a menace. Kon is a problem. 

Kon is so, so damn cute. 

“You are an actual literal brat, baby,” Tim mutters slightly more feelingly than he means to, and Kon’s laugh comes out a little breathier this time and he ducks his head to the side and his face flushes and–

No. Nope. No. Tim needs to not learn anything new about himself or Kon tonight, or, worse, anything about him and Kon. That is just not a thing he has time for in his schedule. He’s got to fit in an anxiety attack and three full files’ worth of casework this weekend, for one, plus his science presentation and that make-up book report, and also come up with someplace else nice enough to take Kon to dinner tonight. 

“So, uh–dinner?” he says very quickly–self-defense, again–and Kon bites his lower lip and grins around it, his face still turned just a little bit away. Tim pretends they’re not effectively pressed together from knee to neck right now. Pretends valiantly. “I mean–um, if you’re hungry yet.” 

Kon laughs, ducking his head lower, the dangling gold teardrop hanging from his ear gleaming warmly in the murky electric city light. Tim goes through multiple stages of emotional processing to keep himself from kissing his neck right behind that earring and completely forgetting about not only dinner, but all his homework and casework and even the anxiety attack. 

Does Kon laugh this much around Robin? 

Tim really doesn’t feel like he does. 

He also doesn’t tell Robin very important things like the fact that he can make other people bulletproof on a whim and map out an entire mall just by standing in it, which is objectively much worse and potentially dangerous a thing not to do, but also Tim is already positive he’s going to miss that laugh like crazy every time he sees Kon with the mask on. 

Robin doesn’t get to see Kon like this at all, even when he lets the asshole eat both stupid boxes of cinnamon bread. 

“Dinner, yeah,” Kon says, grinning again and then taking off backwards across the sky, apparently unconcerned about their chances of hitting a building. Tim’s not really in a proper carry so much as just stretched out against him and wrapped up in his arms, but given the nature of how Kon’s powers work, an actual carry is obivously not really a concern, so . . . 

Oh, Tim realizes as Kon tips back just enough to be reclining in the air, still flying without any apparent care or concern for the aerodynamics of the situation or anything but staying more or less out of view of anyone on the street below. 

Avoiding the street view is good. 

The part where now he’s essentially laying on top of Kon is . . . less good, maybe. 

Maybe he won’t have to convince Kon to go supervillain, at least. Maybe Kon’s already there. 

“Where to, daddy?” Kon asks with a smirk, keeping one arm looped around Tim’s waist and folding the other behind his own head like he’s laying out in a lounge chair on the beach. Tim thinks longingly of smothering him and also of getting him to take down his TTK so he could bite a hickey or five into his neck. Maybe six. He could probably do six. 

Or seven. 

“Northeast towards Broad Street,” Tim says as he tips his head in the appropriate direction, then pulls up the camera again and snaps a quick shot of Kon’s smug smirk, which immediately breaks into a surprised laugh as the other flushes again. 

He takes a picture of that too. 

“You flirtin’ again already, man?” Kon asks with a sheepish little laugh, like the bastard has any room to talk. 

“The position’s pretty good for it, that’s all,” Tim says with a level of casualness he absolutely does not feel. Kon flushes darker and bites his lip again, still just barely grinning. Tim, ethically, has no choice but to take a few more pictures. 

“Oh my god,” Kon says, laughing again and unfolding the arm he has tucked behind his head to hide his eyes behind instead. Tim is maybe a little bit too aware of the line of his throat under the neck of his shirt, without his eyes and the sparkle there to be distracting him into a useless stupid mushbrained might-as-well-be-a-civilian, observationally-speaking. “I’m not a building, you absolute nerd!” 

“I said I liked people-watching too, didn’t I?” Tim points out reasonably, though mostly his brain’s occupied with the question of–“Hey. If you let down your TTK a bit, could a baseline-DNA human give you a hickey? Like, is that physically possible, or are you too Kryptonian for that?” 

“Oh my god,” Kon repeats, laughing harder even as the flush on his face spreads down his neck. Tim wonders how warm that might feel under his mouth. “I, uh–dunno, man. Maybe?” 

Tim silently resolves himself to finding literally any excuse to conduct that experiment and moves a hand to cup the side of Kon’s throat, eyeing it consideringly. Kon makes a slightly weird noise and visibly swallows, and Tim belatedly realizes that he’s paid literally no attention whatsoever to whether or not they’re about to hit a building or a flagpole or a roof this entire flight; he just assumed Kon had it handled. The Bat-paranoia kicks in and he glances up reflexively, and just as reflexively slides the pad of his thumb across Kon’s pulse. Their flight path is clear; they’re high enough to avoid most of the buildings in this area. Definitely still gonna need to keep an eye out for radio towers and billboards, but . . . 

Kon swallows again, the gesture a little bit rough this time. Tim feels the other’s throat flex against his palm. That sure is . . . that sure is a thing that Tim feels right there. That invulnerable throat flexing right there against his palm, and maybe not necessarily having to be invulnerable, if Kon didn’t want it to be. 

. . . . . . he already said he didn’t have time to learn anything new about himself tonight, dammit.

[happeehippie]

Paper Rings. || Joe Burrow

*The moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met. Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet.*

When Ja’marr Invited me to the Super Bowl after party I was not expecting the level of commitment they had given to celebrating. I don’t think there is a single person in this room other than me that’s sober. I’ve been hiding away in this corner hoping that J will have forgotten I’m here, and for a while it works. Once he spots me I have no way out. He’s coming over with a goofy grin on his face followed by what looks to be his buddy Joe. In all the years that Ja’marr and I have been friends I haven’t actually met Joe. Until tonight I guess.

“What are you doing over here?” Ja’marr asks, pulling me into his side and looking expectantly for my answer.

“I’m just enjoying the festivities..in private.”

“I have someone I want you to meet.” He turns around waving for Joe, who had got caught up by someone in the crowd, to come over.

“Joe this is my best friend from back home, y/n. Y/N this is my buddy Joe Burrow.” Joe holds his hand out and I take it giving a slight shake.

“Joe Burrow? I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.” I say sarcastically in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well I’ve been waiting for this for a while. Chase talks about you all the time. It’s nice to put a face to the stories.” He says, the nervousness still evident in his voice.

“J likes to keep me hidden away from all of his friends. He thinks they’re gonna fall in love with me or something.” Joe’s grin reaches all the way to the corner of his eyes and he glances sideways to see J just staring off into space.

“I guess it’s a good thing he’s too high to understand what’s happening right now.”

“Looks like everyone is.”

We talked for a while longer before he got swept away, and maybe it’s the contact high from all the weed but I went home and read everything I could find on the internet about Joe.

*The wine is cold like the shoulder that I gave you in the street. Cat and mouse for a month or two or three.*

Why do people think inviting single people to weddings is a cool idea? I’ve been sitting at this bar for 20 minutes waiting on my glass of wine, which isn’t free by the way. The only reason I agreed to come to this silly thing is because the bride is the only friend I’ve made since Ja’marr convinced me to move to Cincinnati two months ago. Weddings suck. I’m so immersed in my thoughts that I don’t even notice when someone slips into the seat beside me. My eyes grew wide as I glanced over to find a familiar mop of brown hair.

“Be honest, are you stalking me?” He asks playfully. If he’s been at this thing the whole time I definitely didn’t see him.

“Why would I stalk some meat head football player? I mean you’re not even rich.” I spit back playfully.

“Okay, you got me there. What are you drinking tonight?”

“I’ve been waiting on a glass of wine, I think he forgot about me.” I fake pout.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.” He waves down the bartender (who momentarily fanboys) and asks for two glasses of white wine, we have drinks within seconds.

“Oh the perks of being QB1.” A blush creeps onto my cheeks as he examines my face.

“I’m sensing you’ve got a problem with meat head football players.”

“Only the kind who get special treatment.” I pick up my purse and take out some cash to pay for the wine but he immediately pushes it back towards me.

“Let me.”

“I don’t need any charity Joe. I can pay for my own drink thanks.” I go to slide the cash onto the counter again but he stops me for the second time. “How about you just let me get the drink and you can pay me back?”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” I question suspiciously.

“Let me take you on a date?” His eyes are hopeful and they aren’t looking away from mine. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. I stand up placing the cash on the bar in front of him before leaning down to whisper in his ear,

“Like I said, I don’t need any charity from you.” With that I turn on my hell and walk out the door. I hate weddings.

A few hours later I receive a texts that says:

I need the charity, go on a date with me?

I hate to admit it but I thought about Joe for the rest of the night. It only took him two months of texts and well timed “visits” to J’s until I finally said yes.

I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings. Uh-huh, that’s right. Darling, you’re the one I want.

Okay, so maybe I underestimated what it would be like to date the most famous quarterback in the NFL. My self-esteem has taken some major blows over the last year and with another season of football looming around the corner I don’t know if I can take it anymore. Fans are not thrilled to see Joe dating a normal “average looking” woman. Every time I show up to a game and they put me on that damned jumbotron there are clips of me circulating for a week until a new one comes about, the entire world just picking me apart. Which is why I have been strategically avoiding Joe’s questions about whether I will be attending his first preseason game tomorrow. Until now that is..

“Okay, talk to me.” Joe says, staring directly into my eyes as we sit across from each other at the kitchen counter.

“Talk to you about what?” I laugh nervously and start to fidget with a leftover piece of paper from crafts with his nephew yesterday.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? Why aren’t you answering my questions about the game? And why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” He says matter of factly, taking the paper out of my hands and messing with it himself.

“It’s nothing.” I mumble looking anywhere but at his face.

“Y/N.. if you don’t tell me what is going on, I’m asking J.” No way he just pulled the Ja’marr card. Who told me it was a good idea to date my best friends.. other best friend.

“Fine.. I just.. your fans don’t really like me Joey. I don’t know if I want to subject myself to the same torture I went through last season.” He sets the paper aside and pulls my hands to his mouth. Letting his kiss linger on my knuckle for a few quiet moments as he thinks about how to respond.

“I don’t care,” he looks me right in the eyes, “I don’t care what they say, or what they think they know about our relationship. You’re my girl. You’re the one that I want. Nobody is going to change my mind, don’t let them get in your head.” I can’t help the love and appreciation that seeps through me, I pick up the small piece of paper that he had formed into a ring while we were talking and focus on it for few moments to collect my emotions, he laughs and takes it from my hand before walking around to my chair.. “I love you, and it’s not because of what other people do or don’t think of you, it’s because you’re you. And because even if the only thing I had to give you was this little paper ring you’d still love me back. That’s what’s important to me. Not all that bullshit on the internet and in the tabloids.” I laugh as he slides the ring on my left hand and wipes a tear from the corner of my eye.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say at one time.”

“What can I say, you’re worth getting passionate about.” I stand up and pull him close, leaning up to kiss him.

“I guess I better find me a game day fit,” He smiles before laying another peck on my lips, “I love you too, Joey. Just so you know.”

“I know.”

[razorblade180]

Home Warfare

Ruby:*on call* …(Maybe he’s busy?)

Jaune:Hello?

Ruby:!? S-Sup! Just checking in. How was the flight back home?

Jaune:My stomach has stopped flipping. It’s the little victories that matter.

Ruby:I still can’t believe you went back home for break. Isn’t it your first time back since…lying?

Jaune:Yeah, but it’s not like they know that part. Plus I’ve kept in contact. You’re not going back to Patch?

Ruby:Yang did. Dad is actually taking a mission so if o went back I’m basically house sitting.

Jaune:You don’t want to see your old friends?

Ruby:I can do that when I pick up Yang. Making a big deal out of it feels awkward. Have you been smothered with affection yet?

Jaune:What do you mean?

Ruby:It must be a big deal continuing your families legacy; especially in your hometown.

Jaune:Probably, if I meant anything.

Ruby:Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?

Jaune:Just because I’m at Beacon doesn’t mean anything. Not like my grades are stellar or I’m a different person. Still the bullied twerp that left and the son with low expectations. I’m only really here because I have to come back eventually.

Ruby:….

Jaune:Ruby?

Ruby:I could’ve went with you.

Jaune:That’s nice, but why would you?

Ruby:Because you sound miserable! It’s not like I’m doing anything. I can’t do too much about people giving you a hard time but showing up with a new friend has to mean something.

Jaune:I gotta be honest…you being here would make this place bearable. I honestly forgot how…small it felt being here at times.

Ruby:Would you like me to be there? I can take an airship tomorrow, seriously.

Jaune:If it’s really okay, sure. I’d love to see you.

Ruby:Cool. I’ll be your moral support!

Jaune:Haha, thanks. Well I have to go. Dinner is almost ready. Wish me luck.

Ruby:Good luck! *hangs up*

Weiss:*walks in* Oh, you’re still here.

Ruby:It’s our dorm! Why wouldn’t I be!?

Weiss:What I meant is I thought you’d be running around doing anything but being a hermit. Even Blake took a trip.

Ruby:…Weiss? I have an offer you can’t refuse. One that involves the mall, your opinion, and freedom from me.

Weiss:Go on.

xxxxxxx

The next day, out in town

Papa Arc:So what exactly was your role in all that again?

Jaune:I came up with the plan against the DeathStalker.

Papa Arc:Can you really consider a couple callouts a plan? Especially when you didn’t lead the charge?

Mama Arc: Harold! Leave him alone! I think it’s great he’s trying.

Harold:Persephone, trying is one thing, achieving is another. Can’t have him getting full of himself.

Jaune:(Or having any confidence at all.)

Persephone: The year has only really just begun. There’s leaps and bounds a C-student like our boy can make given enough time and focus, hopefully.

Jaune:…

???:He’s actually a B-student thanks to me.

Jaune’s head perked up. He recognized that voice anywhere. He turned around to greet Ruby but was left speechless the moment his eyes found her.

Combat boots were abandoned for red flats. The leggings he had known her for were abandoned for black thigh-highs with rose petals on them. The combat skirt had been stolen and replaced with black jean shorts with a red belt while her corset was swapped for a half shirt with long sleeves that went just past her hands. Jaune might not have recognized Ruby if not for the cloak!

The girl’s hair was noticeably a little wavy and a rose clip kept her bangs out of her face which showed off a modest amount of dark eye shadow that matched new lipstick. It went with her black fingernail polish he noticed as she waved with her left while rolling her luggage over.

Jaune:R-Ruby?

Ruby:Hello~ fancy seeing you here. Although I do remember saying you’d be visiting your dear family. I guess these are your parents! Hi! He’s mentioned wonderful things about you.

Persephone:And not enough about you! Ruby, was it?

Ruby:Yep! Ruby Rose. Jaune’s actually the first person helpful person I met at Beacon; as well as my dorm neighbor. We’re always comparing notes and helping one another as leaders of our teams.

Harold:You’re also a leader of a team?

Ruby:R-W-B-Y. Team RWBY. Hehe, I know I probably don’t look that impressive but I promise you, I know my way around the battlefield.

Harold:…You said my son is B-student now.

Ruby:Mmhm. He has a better memory for history than I do so as token of appreciation, I helped him with Grimm anatomy and practical skills. Your son is quite a fast learner. You must be so proud.

Jaune:I-

Harold:Well he has his ups and downs but of course he has his merits.

Persephone:Anyways…what brings you all the from Beacon?

Ruby:There’s a weapons convention not too far from here. I’m a real nerd for this stuff. Figured I could use my break to stay a couple days and check the exhibit. Is the Arc family presenting any armor or swords?

Harold:You know our history.

Ruby:Of course. I know your son, and he’s quite proud of it the same way I’m proud of my mother and her accomplishments. It’s probably why we get along so well, besides him being raised well. Take it from me, there’s some real jerks that let linage go to their heads.

Persephone:Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing! Jaune! I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned her more!

Jaune:I said I was making friends who get me.

Persephone:Ruby? Is your inner room already booked? If not, you can gladly stay with us while you’re here.

Ruby and Jaune: What?

Persephone:It’s not a problem at all. We never get to meet Jaune’s friends and you must only make so much money while being students. We have plates to spare. Isn’t that right Harold?

Harold:Yes, I’m…curious to know more things about my son.

Ruby:Well…if you insist.

Persephone:Wonderful! We will set things up and take your stuff now. Jaune, show Ruby around the town.

With no more room to negotiate, Ruby gives her things to Jaune’s parents and watch them get far enough away before letting out a sigh. Coincidentally, he did the same.

Ruby:No offense to your parents, but I’m really impressed how nice you are. I heard a little bit of the conversation before I said anything. They’re…a real piece of work. They look like they mean well though.

Jaune:You aren’t wrong. Thanks for showing up when you did. By the way… what’s with the new look?

Ruby:It’s like I said, I’m good on the battlefield. I figured the best way to shut up your hometown enemies was to give them something to shut up about. I’m not one for fashion so i asked Weiss for help finding a look that fits me. Honestly I still think I look awkward.

Jaune:No you’re gorgeous! Like some cool goth badass that’s cu- cute.

Ruby:*red*…Hehe, well thank you. I might not look like it all the time but I really like first impressions. A few people have noticed me on the way in. Guess Weiss went a little too hard, but that works in our favor. I doubt people will pick on you as much.

Jaune:Honestly they might be jealous if they see you with me.

Ruby:Is that a problem?

Jaune:Absolutely not. It would be hilarious.

Ruby:Haha, then lead the way. Show me your old stomping grounds.

Any worries he had faded away instantly. Jaune happily took Ruby’s hand and began walking. The girl was stunned for a second before getting close enough to lean on the boy. Honestly, she could get used to this.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.

I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).

Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:

My issues with their Original designs:

Vaggie:

The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because

1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.

2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.

3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?

The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.

It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.

Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)

She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.

Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.

Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.

Charlie:

Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design

It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.

Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.

Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?

Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.

I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".

On to the thought process for these two:

Valerie the fallen:

Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.

I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?

In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.

She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?

She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.

Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.

She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)

Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.

Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.

I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)

Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.

A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.

Charlie:

I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING

Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.

Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.

She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.

I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)

Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.

Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.

Has wings from her father.

Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.

Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form: