slayediest asked:


I tried not to go for porn on that one, I really did 

(one word prompt thingy)

“R-Rachel’s gonna be here any–ungh, oh, Kurt please, she’s gonna be here any s-second, stop t-teasing–”

Kurt slides his mouth off Blaine’s cock and licks his lips. “Not teasing,” he corrects hoarsely. “Savoring.” He’s on his knees, between Blaine’s legs and under the piano in McKinley’s auditorium, slowly jacking his brand new husband’s cock as he licks just under the head. Blaine’s clutching the piano bench for dear life, rock-hard where he hangs out of his pants and so close to coming he can taste it. 

“Stop. Teasing,” Blaine grunts, putting one hand on the back of Kurt’s head and pushing him forward. He makes a low, breathy noise when Kurt laughs and takes him back into his mouth. Kurt glances back up, meeting eyes with Blaine, then holds his gaze, takes a deep breath through his nose, and keeps going until his nose hits the hair below Blaine’s belly button.

Blaine doubles over, whimpering, his hand tightening in Kurt’s hair as he holds him in place and shoots down his throat. His other hand comes up to the piano, a hideous chord clanging through the auditorium as he grasps the keys. Kurt slides off and licks Blaine clean, gently placing him back in his pants, and not a moment later do they hear two people at the top of the stairs on the far end of the huge room. Kurt frantically tries to finger-comb his hair back into place as Blaine tries to compose himself. 

“Hey, Mr. Anderson! Or is it Mr. Hummel now?” Spencer’s voice rings loud and clear through the space, his and Roderick’s footsteps thumping down the stairs.

“It’s–” Kurt coughs, clearing his throat, and crawls out from under the piano. “It’s both,” he says, then widens his eyes dramatically and says, “Found it! My ring, it–it fell. Under the piano.” 

“Still have to get them fit properly,” Blaine adds, discreetly zipping his pants; thankfully, he’s covered by the piano from this angle, so Spencer and Roderick can’t see anything. “Guys, have you seen Miss Berry, by chance?”

A soft, high-pitched, and all-too-familiar cackle emits from the black curtain a bit farther up the stage, and Kurt immediately turns pink and meets narrowed eyes with Blaine.

“Rachel Berry is a god damn pervert.”

So it’s @gctham ‘s birthday today (Happy birthday!) and she wanted some jaytim. I’ve never written them before but I tried. (Inspired by this)

Tim was used to Jason using pick up lines on him. Jason loved pick up lines after all. In fact, Jason used them so often that Tim could predict what Jason would say next.

This was the very reason why what happened next was something that threw Tim for a loop.

Jason and Tim had been running a very normal patrol. It had been a quiet night so they’d decided to cut their patrol short. 

It was just when they were about split that Jason asked, “Did it hurt?”

Tim stared for a moment. He didn’t remember getting hurt during patrol but then he remembered Jason’s habit. He rolled his eyes.

“Let me guess, when I fell from heaven?”

Jason put his hands behind his head. “Nope.”

Tim frowned. What other possible line was there? He raised an eyebrow at Jason, “What then?”

Jason grinned, “Did it hurt when you fell for me?”

Tim gaped after Jason as Red Hood laughed as he left. Jason had actually gotten one over him.

Tim narrowed his eyes, “Oh it’s on.”

Jason had just started a war. A war of pick up lines and Tim had no intention of losing.

Aaaah Brownies was so great today why am I even doing university when it’s possible to teach tiny people how to play games they love and help them make butterfly life-cycles out of paper plates and cotton wool and be a victim of the thing where they put one hand over your head and count really fast and the number they reach when you notice is “how many boyfriends you have” and pour imaginary milk for the ones pretending to be cats and play I-spy under the table

I could hold my sadness in my hand and tell you,
this is it,
I have nothing else to give.
I leave a voice mail on my moms cellphone 5 times to tell her I love her then another 2 times to tell her I hate myself,
I can’t seem to tell the difference between the two.
The unsteady feet tell me to walk in a straight line,
and all I can think about
is how far it would be to fall. 

Sometimes when I leave my house I feel like I’m floating.
I am a ghost and my body is possessed.
There is no home I belong to,
except the one nestled in weeds and dirt.
There is no one I belong to, 
except the one hidden between brain and breath.

—  Tangible  // E.K.C

the “men” of the watch: an iconograph

being poor sucks because even when you get a nice unexpectedly fat paycheck and work really hard at your job you still feel guilty spending even a LITTLE money on yourself because all you can think about is how many bills are looming over your head

being poor sucks because you convince yourself the less you eat the less you have to spend on groceries and the more money you’ll have to keep the power on and a roof over your head