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puppiesandnightlock · 3 days

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LINK: Now i like your stupid face

summary: Friendships have developed, and now that everyone's catching on, Jon's catching something else...

ft. Damian fixing Jon's attire to his level, some selfies and chillin, and Jon catching feels for our boy Dami

The dynamic doesn’t change much, at first. It had still been teasing and annoying and provoking each other to see who’ll rise to the bait first, but with a layer of friendliness, of knowing that it's just fun and games.

It was the little things that began to clue the rest of them in, his friends first and foremost, who, at the time, still bristled when Jon neared Damian in their presence, more so when they began teasing each other. Once they caught on, the rest of the school who’d begun to be invested in their situation since the day Damian’s books met the floor, began to as well.

Things like Damian’s use of more informal language than the robotic textbook he often sounded like, Jon’s attendance and grades, the way they seemed to gravitate towards each other when in the other’s presence.

The fights became nothing but banter, usually ending in laughter, much to everyone’s bewilderment. Jon’s coffee intake became less and suddenly he was showing up to tutoring with two cups of tea rather than a single cup of coffee.

Damian seemed less stiff all the time, clothes changing just slightly to be pronounced casual prep, wearing long earrings with cuffs in an ear, eyeliner making its reappearance onto his person, although it was a soft brown framing his eyes rather than the harsh black.

It was puzzling to the rest of the world how they were getting along now. Damian was questioned on it, giving such vague answers they all stopped trying to ask anyways. Jon became a steady presence in their lies, dragging Akira along with him, much to their distaste.

They’d developed a stable bond, despite being polar opposites in reality. Damian was still determined to fix Jon’s mannerisms and clothing taste, although mentioning such made Jon scowl and retort with the fact that there was nothing wrong with what he wore.

“It’s all…wrong.” Damian eyed him critically from the vantage point of Jon’s bedroom doorway. Jon himself was on the bed, flopped on his stomach and scrolling through his phone.

“Everything I do is wrong to you, Dames.” Jon muttered, feeling his face heat up as the words came out disgustingly fond instead of the exasperated tone he was going for.

He had moved from the doorway into the room fully, opening the door to his large closet and examining the contents.

“You have a perfectly acceptable wardrobe here, i can’t fathom why you don’t use it,” He tsked, yanking a shirt off a hanger. “And you can’t tell me it does not ‘fit with your aesthetic’, because you can certainly make it fit with whatever this is.”

“You just gestured to all of me,” Jon deadpanned as he rolled over, placing his phone down.

“Take everything off.” Damian demanded, throwing a bundle of clothes at him.

“Take a guy to dinner first, jeez,” Jon smirked, catching the clothing. “I don’t put out on the first date anyways so…”

“You’re impossible,” Damian huffed, tugging at the collar of his sleeveless black turtleneck, the shirt tucked into green harem-style pants. He turned around to both give privacy and to continue a search for what he deemed better clothing. Without turning around, he tossed a beanie at him, another thing for him to put on.

“Are you decent?” Damian asked dryly a few minutes later, turning around anyway. Jon was shoving the beanie on his head, twisting it in a way that it messed his curls.

“Here, let me,” He adjusted it, looking him up and down. Blue caught green and held each other gazes even if just for a moment. Said moment was broken as Damian shook his head, sitting him back down and going to rummage in the bathroom connected to Jon’s room.

“What’re you doing?” Jon pulled up his snapchat, taking multiple pictures with different filters. Damian came back out equipped with all the makeup that that other owned.

“I’m going to teach you to wear the atrocity you call makeup correctly.”

Jon looked actually offended by the statement, and dodged as a makeup wipe came at him. “There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“It’s offending my sensibilities.”

“My brother used to wear it like this-!”

“Does he now? No. Do you know why? Because Timothy got him to see the error in his ways by simply existing . He looks equally as dramatic now as he did then.”

“But I'm not my brother and I will not be swayed by your Wayne child charisma.”

Damian tackled him and they wrestled around the bed for a minute, before the smaller boy flipped them and pinned down his wrists, straddling his lap.

“Haha.” Damian said triumphantly. Jon was extremely aware of how they were placed and flushed accordingly, looking anywhere but the smaller boy on top of him, because they were just friends, just friends, justfriends-

“Oy!” Kon’s voice rumbled from the stairs just as Damian began to attempt to wipe away his eyeliner. “Y’all better have clothes on!”

“kON!” Jon’s voice cracked, the pitch going higher with embarrassment.

Damian made no move to get off, simply putting on an appalled expression. He had so many siblings that in this day and age he’d rather continue with what he was doing and ignore the embarrassing jeers from Jon’s older brother.

“Stop moving, hayseed, you’re making this much harder than it has to be.” He finally got most of it off, and then applied most of it as usual. He brandished the eyeliner like a sword, and made Jon sit up, despite not moving from his lap.

“A-ain’tcha gonna get off?” He mumbled, sure his face was as red as it felt.

“Shh. And no, this makes for a better angle.” the pencil dragged against his skin and flecked up, creating a thin dramatic wing, the polar opposite of the tiny subtle one Damian so often wore.

He did the other side, capping the pencil and finally scooting off, taking the supplies back to the restroom after he’d finished.

Jon admired himself in the camera of his phone, immediately posting a bunch of pictures. Damian shoved him over and leaned back onto the bed, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. He’d been making more use of it now, Jon's influence, he was sure.

The taller boy held up his phone and snapped a selfie of the two, a cheery rose colored filter on and hand drawn hearts in the corners. Jon was smirking and had thrown up a peace sign, and Damian had looked up for a minute, looking largely unamused.

He posted it on all of his socials, tagging Damian and slumping back down. After a moment’s consideration, he scooted forwards and placed his head so that it was resting on Damian's crossed legs.

“Get off.” Damian grumbled, making no move to actually push him off his person. He only shoved off the beanie, threading his fingers into the raven curls and pushing his head to the side in a playful manner, keeping his eyes on his screen.

“Meh.” Jon stared up at his phone, moving his head back to where it had been, Damian’s hand still in his hair. They stayed in silence the rest of the time there, only moving once Damian had gotten the message he needed to leave.

“I arranged your closet, since we’re friends I thought I might offer you some more outfits than the typical one you always wear. Your jacket will go with any of them.”

He waved to the small cubbies, seven outfits for seven days of the week. it was a gift, in an odd sort of way. Jon felt both pleased and mildly irritated, because really, what was he, a five year old who needs their clothes set out for them?

He finally settled on a simple,“Huh. Thanks, D.”, before sitting up.

“I gotta get over to your house and make you look more normal because despite this being your designer casual prep, you still look like you came out of a magazine.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” He asked, stretching out now that Jon was no longer keeping him from moving. He stood, grabbing his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Not really, more of an observation.” Jon shrugged, looking at him from upside down. “But you’re going to wear jeans and a hoodie one of these days, at the very least.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “We’ll see, Kent. I’ve got to be going now, I’d better see you on time for tutoring tomorrow.”

“Yessir.” Jon called as the other boy exited his room and went down the steps. As the downstairs door closed, Kon poked his head into the room.

“You guys are so disgusting.”

He threw a pillow at his brother's face. “Shut UP, Kon!”

The next day’s session went on, Jon being only two minutes late and making up for it by presenting Damian with a cup of tea, blended drink in his own hand.

“I dunno how you can stand to drink that stuff when it’s getting so warm out.” Jon scrunched up his face, the gesture making Damian turn to hide a small smile.

It wasn’t his fault the expression was endearing, okay?

“I don’t understand how you can pay eight dollars for a glorified slushie of milk and sugar with a dash of caffeine.” He retorted, taking the cup.

“Shut up and drink your tea,” Jon slid into the seat next to him, their bodies smushed into each other. He took the needed papers and books out, setting them next to Damian’s books.

He picked up the papers Jon had set out and hummed a noise of approval. “You’re doing much better in your classes, Jon. Congratulations. By the end of this year, you should have the satisfactory marks for all your credits, including the ones you had to make up.”

“Thanks, D.” he grinned, before adding more quietly. “Guess I couldn't have done it without you.”

“Of course not.” Damian turned his head to the side, looking at him with a soft look in his eyes, rather than the teasing one Jon had assumed they would hold.

The warmth that it held flooded the other boy, and he flushed as a small smile accompanied it, hint of white peeking through soft lips.

Some emotion flashed on Damian’s face and he looked away, light pink tinting his skin. “L-let’s begin. This shouldn’t be that hard, it’s nearly identical to what you did last week-”

Jon tuned him out, only the sound of his voice filling his ears as his mind began to wander. It was so…so indescribably amazing how they’d gone from where they had once been to where they were now. Whatever he threw at him could be thrown right back, hot and cold, light and dark, the most cliche polar opposites…

God, what was he, a love sick teen?

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Are you paying attention?” Damian snapped him out of his mid realization. “Jonathan?”

“I uh-” Jon stood, knocking his chair over. ”Igottagotothebathroomberightback-”

He rushed out of the library, leaving a concerned and curious Damian behind to pick it up. He crashed into the empty restroom, turning on the water and splashing his face.

This was not good. Possible the biggest understatement of his life, but how else could this be described? Sure, he’d always been attracted to the other, and maybe it had grown just a little within the few months of them talking, but not a crush size.

Couldn’t be.

And if it was, he was doomed to the unrequited feelings of a trashy fanfic. This was Damian, Damian, who was a secret badass, his tutor, and most importantly, one of the only people to have beat down his advances.

God, he was so fucked.

He splashed some water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He shut his eyes and breathed in. This was fine. It would be fine.

He came out with a smile and an apology as if he hadn’t just run off like a frightened deer, and denied all of Damian’s attempts at concern.

He just had a crush on the closest friend he had. Like he said.

Fine.

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funnyexel · 6 months

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imagine your ex is dark superman...

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

He utters lowly, his warm breath dancing on your cheek as you tremble under his gaze. The coldness and stuffy feeling of the room, effecting your mental.

“you- you're acting crazy.” Swallowing thickly, you hesitantly look up to his darkened eyes, afraid of this unfamiliar man.

As the adjective left your lips its like his eyes lit up in the slightest. Almost in a twisted amusement at the negative connotation. Feeling your legs wobble as you slide down the wall he pushed you against, he follows your movements. Lowering himself down with you as his hands loosely hold onto your biceps.

“why? why this?” You were limited to a few words at a time, the icky feeling you feel under his gaze, stopping you from expressing yourself how you usually would. And he could tell. You're not as talkative as he remembers.

Stooping down, he studies your scarce movements. And all he wants to do is kiss the tears off your cheeks, and take you out your fetal position. Carry you to his bed, caress your goosebump ridden skin gently, so gently you won't believe your eyes when you watch him undress you with such patience. He wants to move his large hands down your thighs and squeeze on the soft skin, gently. Remember?

He wants to show you how gently he can be when he licks your pussy, not like a starved man but as a past lover that desperately wants to rekindle the forcibly blown out flame. He will delicately hold your legs down and make you cum on his tongue until you're shaking for a more pleasurable reason.

He wants to pound the idea of you getting back together into your head, permanently.

But then again that's a want, not a will....

Yet.

You stare at him, wanting an answer. Obviously not noticing how he mentally disassociated by the innocent look in your eye.

"I love you."

He says.

"I love you so much. I gave you time. Three years, to figure yourself out and you still needed a push to come back to me. You need me, baby."

He states firmly, speaking down to you as if you're an under developed and confused teen. Shaking your head, while you eye him in disbelief. You don't know how to respond.

"You love me baby. Say it."

He inches closer to your face. Glancing down to your lips and back up to your wide eyes.

"That's all you have to say and it's all over. We stop this silly little game of chase. Okay?"

He utters these words, which successfully make you feel insane. Looking up to his dreamy blue eyes and defined jaw, a dangerous combination with his deep and husky voice. You feel your thoughts being overtaken by his corrupt words. His warped thinking seeping into your mind and making you his little toy. Even with your kicking and screaming, he'll make you his again. He'll do what he wants.

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