Smut100 Table [Locations]
1. Field2. On the move3. Bedroom4. Workplace5. Water6. Forest7. Beach8. Public Place9. Bathroom10. At height
Ten stories ranging from 100 to 400 words a piece. Adult ratings across the board. All Tim-centric, of course. :)
[01. Field - Tim Drake/Vickie Vale]
Tim knew this would happen eventually.
He had spoken about it with Vicki - he had told her that knowing this kind of information usually lead to people dying. Lead to people being angry and actively trying to kill you.
And exactly like someone who didn’t understand the risks, she told him with a pointed look, that she understood the risks and she didn’t take opinions from the no-name vigilante.
She had also thoughtfully mentioned that his cowl looked like contraceptive and did it come ribbed for her pleasure.
So Tim wasn’t actually surprise when, just a week later, he wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, shot off a de-cel line and pulled them both out of the three-story flat two seconds before the unit went up in a blaze red hot flames and smoke.
The glass from the windows shattered and popped and the roof had caved in by the time Tim and Vicki’s feet in the ground two blocks east of the burning wreckage.
Vicki’s fact turned away from the neck of Tim’s cowl, but her arms stayed firmly wrapped around Tim’s upper body. She shakes until. Until she stops.
“Hey.”
Tim’s only response is to crane his neck until his lenses meet her crystal clear, surprised eyes.
“Hey. It was you all those years ago, wasn’t it?” But Vicki had that look in her eye. The one that said she’d figured every thing out. The one that said she probably already had an awesome headline for her article. “About six years ago - you’re the one that saved me - Batman and I from the Scarecrow.
Tim didn’t say a thing, just watched her through the whites of his lenses and felt her hands drag around and up, manicured nails gently scrape his shoulders.
“I know it was - It feels the same.” Still pressed against his body, she kissed the underside of his chin, catching cowl and smooth-shaven skin. Kissed it again before she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.
Held them there for a five count before she pulled back, with interested eyes.
“You’ve been my hero for a while now, you know?”
Tim felt himself flush while he watches the reporter smile coyly. He remembered what it had been like to save Bruce and Vicki, steal Jason’s old Robin uniform that had been two sizes too big just about everywhere.
“You grew into those tights nicely, Boy Wonder.”
-fin (400/100)
[02. On the move - Kon/Tim]
He felt the ghost hands on him a few buildings over. Light, invisible touches along his jaw, his face and down his spine. Innocuous enough, light enough for Tim to continue the end of his patrol with just a warm flush through his bones.
The touches get braver, far less innocent as the minutes pass. As the sun chases the moon from the sky and he chases away from the night, he feels strong touches of nothing cup his groin, curl the shell of his ear, run the seam of his tights and Tim moans hotly into the chilly air.
“Kon.”
-fin (100/100)
[03. Bedroom - Dick/Tim]
Dick barely knew what to say after the first funeral let alone the fifth. Each time he stuttered something profoundly lacking in helpfulness, in clarity. And he doesn’t know what to say - all he knows is that, after each wake, every service, Tim looks less and less like a boy, and more and like a shell.
Something with fine, hairline fractures. Something that keeps retreating back to save himself from shattering.
He’s out of words for Tim; he can’t say anything - just curls around him careful not to break him and presses his lips to Tim’s for the first time.
-fin (100/100)
[04. Workplace - Bruce/Tim]
Bruce’s hips slam up for a final time and his hands on Tim’s waist press him down and still. Bruce freezes and Tim’s eyes roll back in his head as he feels the man spill warmth deep inside of him.
Another minute, as Bruce takes a shuddering breath, Tim lifts his damp cheek from the smooth surface of the executive desk.
He’s disoriented and his lungs burn as he catches his breath and… Oh. The keyboard is askew, the documents not under his sticky palms are decorating the floor.
Bruce shifts his hips, “You really shouldn’t work so hard, Tiger.”
-fin (100/100)
[05. Water - Ra's/Tim]
There is fragrant water floating around him, down his limbs and over his back. It leaves a thin film of oil from the perfume in his hair and down his naked spine, covers him like a shroud.
He watches, almost an out-of-body experience as Ra’s sheds the fine silk robe and enters the bath slowly, step by step. The water barely ripples from the man’s efforts.
Every step Ra’s takes to him, Tim feels like he’s being pulled down in the warm waters. The look Ra’s gives him - like he’s about to be swallowed whole.
“Fulfill your promise, Detective.”
-fin (100/100)
[06. Forest - Damian/Tim]
The New Teen Titans are back at camp, deep in the Adirondacks.
Colin has marshmallow around his mouth and it’s tacky on his fingers which he waves, teasingly in front of Lianne who munches on pieces of graham crackers and giggles like the fifteen-year-old she is.
Iris ate all the hotdogs, so she’s running with, Tim’s credit card, at a reasonable pace, two hours south to the nearest mountain-town store that’s open to get them something to eat that *isn’t* spun sugar.
Tim is a horrible chaperone with his back against a tree about an eighth-mile from camp from the teens - he can feel the rough bark of it biting through the thin cotton of his sweatshirt. Damian’s hands are worse - no; better than branches and they reach for his wrists pinning him and then over his ribs and then tangled in his hair. The younger man sucks any air from Tim’s lungs - bites his lips and drinks
Tim lets him - and then takes Damian’s breath for himself. Lets him touch.
Lips meet and tongues curl and teeth scrape. Noses barely fit. But it speeds up Tim’s heart so wonderfully.
They break apart, surface for air. Damian tugs at Tim’s hair with his large hand - bringing their lips centimeters apart.
“Bruce is going to kill me,” they mumble to each other before diving right back in.
-fin (200/100)
[07. Beach - Jason/Tim]
It’s never really a surprise when a member of the family hunts him down. It is their job after-all - to find even the people that are the hardest to track.
He’s surprised though, by the pallor of the teen’s thin skin. By the gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes. The short razor-ed hair, severely cut.
No control.
“Do you need help?” Jason asks flatly over the rims of his sunglasses.
Tim clenches his jaw, nods.
Jason sighs, sits up and reaches over to start to work on the belt cinched around the boy’s skinny waist.
Patrons of this beach have seen far worse.
-fin (100/100)
[08. Public Place - Babs/Tim(/Dick)]
Tim can feel his eyelids flutter, his lashes catch - drag behind the lenses of the Rayban sunglasses perched on his nose.
The warmth of the sun bakes into him, causes drops of perspiration to well up under the cotton of his t-shirt and bead up at his temples and under the hair at the back of his neck.
Tim’s knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the table and the vibrations kick up a notch against his prostate.
“You could tell him, Tim.” Babs croons in his ear.
He watches Dick flirt with the barista.
“We could play together.”
-fin (100/100)
[09. Bathroom - Jason/Tim(/Bruce)]
“Fucking, fuck, Replacement.” Jason’s strong, well-calloused hands grip the curve of Tim’s silk-swathed hips - tight, bruising. The tips of his fingers, the pads of his thumbs trace the fine bone of the iliac crest that flutters under the surface of Tim’s skin, makes shadows on the material of the silky black shift the younger man is wearing.
Tim sighs - lets Jason lift him up on to the enamel sink.
“Daddy lets you out wearing that?” Jason asks as he licks Tim’s cheek.
Tim smiles in the shell of Jason’s ear, “ Who do you think picked out the dress?”
-fin (100/100)
[10. At Height - Stephanie/Tim]
The number of things going on fifty-four stories below them is close to the number of subway tiles below the city.
It’s uncountable.
Like the number of pale blonde strands of hair that are tangled up with them in the sheets. Or the number of tiny, pale freckles dusting on the naked skin of Stephanie’s shoulders and breasts.
All those things that Tim could count - would count given enough motivation - they don’t matter because Stephanie is eating the last of the Chinese take-out.
She smiles softly and slurps a noodle through pink, kiss-swollen lips, “Are you ready for awkward, kind of gross, ‘I-ate-way-too-much’ sex, boyfriend?”
-fin (100/105)
Ten stories ranging from 100 to 400 words a piece. Adult ratings across the board. All Tim-centric, of course. :)
[01. Field - Tim Drake/Vickie Vale]
Tim knew this would happen eventually.
He had spoken about it with Vicki - he had told her that knowing this kind of information usually lead to people dying. Lead to people being angry and actively trying to kill you.
And exactly like someone who didn’t understand the risks, she told him with a pointed look, that she understood the risks and she didn’t take opinions from the no-name vigilante.
She had also thoughtfully mentioned that his cowl looked like contraceptive and did it come ribbed for her pleasure.
So Tim wasn’t actually surprise when, just a week later, he wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, shot off a de-cel line and pulled them both out of the three-story flat two seconds before the unit went up in a blaze red hot flames and smoke.
The glass from the windows shattered and popped and the roof had caved in by the time Tim and Vicki’s feet in the ground two blocks east of the burning wreckage.
Vicki’s fact turned away from the neck of Tim’s cowl, but her arms stayed firmly wrapped around Tim’s upper body. She shakes until. Until she stops.
“Hey.”
Tim’s only response is to crane his neck until his lenses meet her crystal clear, surprised eyes.
“Hey. It was you all those years ago, wasn’t it?” But Vicki had that look in her eye. The one that said she’d figured every thing out. The one that said she probably already had an awesome headline for her article. “About six years ago - you’re the one that saved me - Batman and I from the Scarecrow.
Tim didn’t say a thing, just watched her through the whites of his lenses and felt her hands drag around and up, manicured nails gently scrape his shoulders.
“I know it was - It feels the same.” Still pressed against his body, she kissed the underside of his chin, catching cowl and smooth-shaven skin. Kissed it again before she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.
Held them there for a five count before she pulled back, with interested eyes.
“You’ve been my hero for a while now, you know?”
Tim felt himself flush while he watches the reporter smile coyly. He remembered what it had been like to save Bruce and Vicki, steal Jason’s old Robin uniform that had been two sizes too big just about everywhere.
“You grew into those tights nicely, Boy Wonder.”
-fin (400/100)
[02. On the move - Kon/Tim]
He felt the ghost hands on him a few buildings over. Light, invisible touches along his jaw, his face and down his spine. Innocuous enough, light enough for Tim to continue the end of his patrol with just a warm flush through his bones.
The touches get braver, far less innocent as the minutes pass. As the sun chases the moon from the sky and he chases away from the night, he feels strong touches of nothing cup his groin, curl the shell of his ear, run the seam of his tights and Tim moans hotly into the chilly air.
“Kon.”
-fin (100/100)
[03. Bedroom - Dick/Tim]
Dick barely knew what to say after the first funeral let alone the fifth. Each time he stuttered something profoundly lacking in helpfulness, in clarity. And he doesn’t know what to say - all he knows is that, after each wake, every service, Tim looks less and less like a boy, and more and like a shell.
Something with fine, hairline fractures. Something that keeps retreating back to save himself from shattering.
He’s out of words for Tim; he can’t say anything - just curls around him careful not to break him and presses his lips to Tim’s for the first time.
-fin (100/100)
[04. Workplace - Bruce/Tim]
Bruce’s hips slam up for a final time and his hands on Tim’s waist press him down and still. Bruce freezes and Tim’s eyes roll back in his head as he feels the man spill warmth deep inside of him.
Another minute, as Bruce takes a shuddering breath, Tim lifts his damp cheek from the smooth surface of the executive desk.
He’s disoriented and his lungs burn as he catches his breath and… Oh. The keyboard is askew, the documents not under his sticky palms are decorating the floor.
Bruce shifts his hips, “You really shouldn’t work so hard, Tiger.”
-fin (100/100)
[05. Water - Ra's/Tim]
There is fragrant water floating around him, down his limbs and over his back. It leaves a thin film of oil from the perfume in his hair and down his naked spine, covers him like a shroud.
He watches, almost an out-of-body experience as Ra’s sheds the fine silk robe and enters the bath slowly, step by step. The water barely ripples from the man’s efforts.
Every step Ra’s takes to him, Tim feels like he’s being pulled down in the warm waters. The look Ra’s gives him - like he’s about to be swallowed whole.
“Fulfill your promise, Detective.”
-fin (100/100)
[06. Forest - Damian/Tim]
The New Teen Titans are back at camp, deep in the Adirondacks.
Colin has marshmallow around his mouth and it’s tacky on his fingers which he waves, teasingly in front of Lianne who munches on pieces of graham crackers and giggles like the fifteen-year-old she is.
Iris ate all the hotdogs, so she’s running with, Tim’s credit card, at a reasonable pace, two hours south to the nearest mountain-town store that’s open to get them something to eat that *isn’t* spun sugar.
Tim is a horrible chaperone with his back against a tree about an eighth-mile from camp from the teens - he can feel the rough bark of it biting through the thin cotton of his sweatshirt. Damian’s hands are worse - no; better than branches and they reach for his wrists pinning him and then over his ribs and then tangled in his hair. The younger man sucks any air from Tim’s lungs - bites his lips and drinks
Tim lets him - and then takes Damian’s breath for himself. Lets him touch.
Lips meet and tongues curl and teeth scrape. Noses barely fit. But it speeds up Tim’s heart so wonderfully.
They break apart, surface for air. Damian tugs at Tim’s hair with his large hand - bringing their lips centimeters apart.
“Bruce is going to kill me,” they mumble to each other before diving right back in.
-fin (200/100)
[07. Beach - Jason/Tim]
It’s never really a surprise when a member of the family hunts him down. It is their job after-all - to find even the people that are the hardest to track.
He’s surprised though, by the pallor of the teen’s thin skin. By the gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes. The short razor-ed hair, severely cut.
No control.
“Do you need help?” Jason asks flatly over the rims of his sunglasses.
Tim clenches his jaw, nods.
Jason sighs, sits up and reaches over to start to work on the belt cinched around the boy’s skinny waist.
Patrons of this beach have seen far worse.
-fin (100/100)
[08. Public Place - Babs/Tim(/Dick)]
Tim can feel his eyelids flutter, his lashes catch - drag behind the lenses of the Rayban sunglasses perched on his nose.
The warmth of the sun bakes into him, causes drops of perspiration to well up under the cotton of his t-shirt and bead up at his temples and under the hair at the back of his neck.
Tim’s knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the table and the vibrations kick up a notch against his prostate.
“You could tell him, Tim.” Babs croons in his ear.
He watches Dick flirt with the barista.
“We could play together.”
-fin (100/100)
[09. Bathroom - Jason/Tim(/Bruce)]
“Fucking, fuck, Replacement.” Jason’s strong, well-calloused hands grip the curve of Tim’s silk-swathed hips - tight, bruising. The tips of his fingers, the pads of his thumbs trace the fine bone of the iliac crest that flutters under the surface of Tim’s skin, makes shadows on the material of the silky black shift the younger man is wearing.
Tim sighs - lets Jason lift him up on to the enamel sink.
“Daddy lets you out wearing that?” Jason asks as he licks Tim’s cheek.
Tim smiles in the shell of Jason’s ear, “ Who do you think picked out the dress?”
-fin (100/100)
[10. At Height - Stephanie/Tim]
The number of things going on fifty-four stories below them is close to the number of subway tiles below the city.
It’s uncountable.
Like the number of pale blonde strands of hair that are tangled up with them in the sheets. Or the number of tiny, pale freckles dusting on the naked skin of Stephanie’s shoulders and breasts.
All those things that Tim could count - would count given enough motivation - they don’t matter because Stephanie is eating the last of the Chinese take-out.
She smiles softly and slurps a noodle through pink, kiss-swollen lips, “Are you ready for awkward, kind of gross, ‘I-ate-way-too-much’ sex, boyfriend?”
-fin (100/105)