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ascendthisday · 1 year

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Down On The Farm

gif by veilofmegiddo

Pairing: Richard Fortus/Robin Finck

Word Count: 2,500~

Info: Gay, Boys Being Boys, "Roommates", How Do I Tag, Pet-Play, Lingerie, Animal Play, Animal Ears, literal cowboy, Stockings, Tails, Muscles, Thighs, Tattoos, Overstimulation, Wordcount: Over 1.000, Intimacy, Hand Jobs, Nipple Play, Large Breasts (but in a boy way), Bells, previous orgasm denial

Summary: “I look,” Richard paused as he ran his palms over his ribs, “insane. I look fucking crazy, Robin.”

Authors Note: happy new years!!! this is mostly- if not entirely, inspired by THIS fortus fanart by the dear @4tusmylove like!!! holy fuck!!! his titties!!!! also : title from that one gnr song. anyways, this came out a little more intimate and fluffy and just . sweeter than intended but they're my babies sooo :P anyways, thanks for being patient with me sorry it's been like a month!!! im just busy with life but im getting back into my groove

“I look,” Richard paused as he ran his palms over his ribs, “insane. I look fucking crazy, Robin.” With every small movement he made, the bell around his neck rang out a clicker-clack noise. When he inhaled, it dung. At the smallest turn of his neck, it banged. He couldn’t move without the bronze bringing attention to him. “No. No, you look cute.” Robin grinned from his lazy seat on their shared bed. It was the truth! The main outfit was sickeningly tight, leaving nothing hidden in the soft white fabric. His flag was clearly at half mast already, if you get what I mean, but outside of that- every rippling muscle in his body was clear and sharp. The chest of the leotard was open, leaving his breasts clearly out for the world to see. It regrouped at the neck with a prim white collar met in the middle with a bow and the aforementioned bell.

“Give me a spin, baby.” Robin drawled, drawing circles in the air with his pointer finger. Richard sputtered and fussed, but he obeyed in the end. His feet softly padded against the floor as he gave a slow cautious spin. Robin let out a low whistle as he took in the sight of his lover. As Richard turned, the thin cow tail tacked to his bottom swooshed against his pale skin. “You look so damn sexy.” Robin grinned and gently rose from the bed. The thud of his soft steps was deeply dulled by his socks, which were printed with black spots on a knitted white background that danced up his thighs. “Oh- shut up.” Richard guffawed as he faced Robin once more- this time, his cheeks covered in a scarlet blush.

His arms nervously crossed over his bare chest. The tattoos that normally decorate his arms were covered up to the middle of his bicep, covered by the same print of fabric as his muscular tree trunk legs. “I dunno if I can, not with such a pretty little cow in front of me.” The rockstar grinned, walking up behind Richard and pulling him into his torso. A soft fluttery whine slipped from his lips as he leaned into the man. It wasn’t uncommon for Robin to wander around their flat shirtless- but in this instance, it added so very deeply to their relationship dynamic. They were so different, but the exact same in an odd way. Robin wrapped his arms around the guitarist, swaying the two of them to a nonexistent rhythm. He was always doing this- using his ever-so-fantastic mind to subconsciously create music through the tiniest of actions.

He dragged his hands up across Richard's arms, climbed his shoulders, and rested them upon the beginning of his neck. He didn’t apply any pressure. There was no harm in his actions. He just let them lay there atop the big black bow and push their weight into the cold brass. The man basically purred as he cradled his lover and began to hum into his ear. It was a familiar tune he repeated, one they had performed as a duet many times before. Beautiful, both in the literal naming sense and in a technical sense. He was calculated in his movement, though. Careful not to knock off the headband he had just helped Richard place on his head. Two twin horns jutted out of his black choppy hair, towering over a pair of soft folded ears below them. The unbelievably fluffy pink fabric under the black and white splotched layer on top of it looked impossibly soft, and Robin could easily get lost in the sensation of rubbing them if he would allow himself.

The best part of it all? One little tag pierced into the right ear that proudly read “ROBIN.” It was scribbled in his own messy handwriting, of course.

“You are so goddamn beautiful, you know that? Thank you for doing this for me.” Robin grinned, slowly peeling himself off of him. Richard fussed as he turned to find the man quickly roaming to the bedside table and back. He hadn’t directly seen what the guitarist had grabbed, but everyone knew Robin wasn’t Robin without his camera. “Just sit all pretty for me, please?” He begged, camera in one hand and the other nervously playing with the ends of his big brown waves. Richard stood there and thought about it. Hard. But, hell- you only live once, right? “As long as you promise to keep it to yourself.” He softly smiled while attempting his best seductive walk to the bed. He only had to walk a few steps, but he still strolled with pointed toes and swinging hips.

Robin approached him almost fearfully, palms sweating and a sort of perverted yearning in his features. In a way, everything about the two of them was perverted and they had no shame behind it! It was just in their nature. In a handful of flashes from far too many angles, Robin was finished with his photo shoot. “Yeah- yeah, these are good.” He mumbles, flicking back and forth with the mechanical buttons. “You sound like a total fuckin’ fangirl right now.” Richard snorts, bell ringing out as he was folding one of his legs over the other. “That’s because I am. These are like- amazing. I know you’re loyal to the whole puppy-boy thing but, God- maybe I’ve found your true calling.” He coyly teases, carefully putting his camera down on their dresser.

Their fun had only just begun, but the feeling of lust already sat heavy in the air.

Robin strolled toward him, an air of confidence surrounding him as he approached his lover. Richard was nothing but impressed by his behavior, the usually meek man being turned into this unfamiliar illusion of pride. He stood in front of him, shoulders pushed back and head held high as he gazed down at the flushed man. One of his worn hands carefully floated towards Richard, cupping his head in his large palm. "You look pretty. I think I said that already, but you really do." He grinned and scratched his blunt nails softly against Richard's jaw. He always did shit like that- the smallest signs of intimacy.

Richard let out a low- almost gravely purring sound as he leaned into the guitarist's embrace. Carefully, Robin toed his way around the bed and, in a borderline weightless way, shuffled behind Richard. His folded legs encaged Richards' wide hips. Robin rested his forehead against the slight curve where his lover's spine blends into neck, allowing his slightly greasy black mane to tickle at his skin. He let out shallow hunched breaths- but, he was perfectly calm. “My favorite.” He mumbled, gently holding his thigh and running his fingertips across the bold hem that ran across his femur. “What’s your favorite? My little costume?” Richard snorted through a deep throaty laugh.

“No, you. You’re just- I don’t know how else to say it, my favorite.” Robin stumbled. His normal aura of sexual dominance and confidence was flushed away for a moment of rawness. He was quite the lover and honestly very physically intimate with no shame behind it, but he wasn’t quite the wordsmith that other men were. He preferred to show love in the smaller, less verbal ways- so this bordered on being proposed for Richard. “Oh my God. Hi, yes- you’re my favorite too? I love you so much.” Richard babbled, overcome with such a strange form of pure admiration for his lover. Hell- he was making it hard for him to focus on the outfit when he was just throwing out confessionals like this!

“Thanks.” Robin giggled, tone suddenly much less antsy. Although his face was still blushed and his heart was pounding, he wanted to play! He began to carefully dance his fingers up his body. They cruised against the wide sea of white fabric and paused just below the bloom of his breasts. Everyone who’s anyone knew Richard had big tits, I mean, just look at him! But, very few would acknowledge it to him. Robin would, though. Because, of course he would! Infact, there would be days where he’d grab Richard just before they went on stage and insist that he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt- you know, to give the girls a little bit of fanservice.

He softly brought up the worn pads of his fingertips to tease around his nipples. Hell, he didn’t even actually touch his areola- just danced around them. Sliding down his fingers, he pulled them back along the bottom line where they meet his ribcage, and pushed forward while beginning to fully cup them. “These are so nice.” Robin grinned. “Thank you.” Richard airly replied, the blush across his cheeks coming out almost verbally. He flexed his clothed arms as he leaned into the little touch Robin graced him with. Robin let one hand slowly wander down toward his groin while keeping the other stationary at his breast.

He gently began to tweak Richards' nipple. It wasn’t painful, but there was a very unique sensation behind it. Really, indescribable in a sense. Like stepping on a Lego but underwater while on ecstasy, almost. The pressure between his fingers grew as he worked closer toward Richard’s cock. It was like the ultimate distraction. He thought everything all at once, yet nothing at the same thing. All of his thought’s rambled in an incoherent rhythm- the kind of rhythm not even Robin could produce. Robin reached between his legs, pushing his torso into his spine, and absorbed the pure warmth radiating off of him. It was lust in the most concentrated way possible.

Roughly, he tugged apart the snaps of his garment that lay hidden between his thighs. It should have brought his attention closer to his cock, but it didn't. Here’s another thing about Richard Fortus- the man’s got unbelievably sensitive nipples! I mean, really, his tits ache like he’s supposed to be breastfeeding something! Robin always held that above his head in their scenes to keep him in a comfortable mushy headspace. His cock fled the tight white fabric like all hell, springing up and plopping against his thigh with shocking vigor.

Robin ignored the sensual part of his brain screaming to tease the hell out of Richard, instead he chose to jump straight into the pure raw sexual part of it all. Foreplay is fun, but they know each other's bodies so impossibly well that they can pinpoint when it’s needed and when it's purely for fun. So, he wrapped his hangs around his cock and gave him a few beginners strokes. That first bit of real contact- God, Richard thought he was dying. “Oh my goodness.” He sputtered, gasping through a moan. “You’re so cute.” Robin grinned as he rubbed quick circles across the bud of his nipple. He peered over his shoulder, still careful to avoid the horned headband, and snickered as he watched the man's thighs tense.

He had been given so little- so few sensations to work off of, and yet he teetered closer to the edge by the second. Why? Because they had been playing this game for a while. Robin would dance circles around him and keep him just on the precipice of success, and then stop touching him entirely. He had done it for the last week or so, and Richard couldn’t handle much more. But, it was so incredibly fun, in a morbid way. “You’re gonna kill me.” Richard huffed out, sweat beading through his bangs. Robin just hummed and continued to flick his wrist. Occasionally, he’d lose tempo and punish Richard by clamping down on his nipple just a little harder- in a good way.

“Robin, ‘m not joking. If you keep going, I’m gonna come.” He chewed out his words through euphoric babbling. There’s this sort of itch that only Robin can scratch inside of him- an itch that’ll never be solved by anyone else's hands. He pushes him to a level of unimaginable euphoria. Every. Single. Time. Robin wordlessly continued to pump away at his cock. It was a sort of silent permission Richard could only assume and hope for the best, because there was no way he could possibly hold back.

There's not enough words invented to describe the adrenaline speeding through his veins as he comes. It hurts- his nipple hurts, but it's such a good hurt. It's bursting pressure coursing throughout every ounce of his being and it's so amazingly too much. He doesn't get to come down. No, Robin doesn't allow him to. He continues to jerk him off until Richard is gasping for air and desperately trying to writhe out of his grasp. Then, he lets go. Richard borderline collapses as he heaves for air, tears unbeknownst to him previously dropping onto the sheets. He's not sad, though. He's so very happy and just overwhelmed with tears. Proof of a good orgasm, really. If there's any drug in the world he craved, it was Robin's touch.

"You okay?" Robin mumbles against the shell of his ear, carefully wrapping his arms around his midsection. He wasn't sure how long it took for him to come down from his high, whether it was minutes or weeks. But, when he did he was filled with a wide appreciation for his lover. Robin didn't demand to get off after him, he never did, instead he busied himself with caring for the hazed man. Richard tiredly nodded, almost too exhausted to keep his head up. "Wicked," He smiled, "do you want me to take this off?" Robin asked as he plucked at the white bodysuit. "I'll keep it on, for now." Richard slurred. "Well, alright. Whatever floats your boat, but can I atleast take off the ears?" He asked, careful not to pop that bubble of post-orgasm serenity.

He, with the most feathery touch he could muster, slipped off the soft headband and discarded to their slightly messy floor. That was a problem for another day. "Do you want me to clean you up right now? We could just lay- if you want, of course." He questioned, knowing even if they laid together now that he'd still end up sneaking out of bed to get a rag and clean off his lover soon enough. "Just lay with me, please." Richard spoke just above a whisper. Robin didn't reply, instead he just pulled him into the plush bed with him and stayed there. His big waves of hair created magnificent swirls and patterns of halos around their heads. He didn't mean to, but soon enough the soft bubbling breaths of Richard succumbing to sleep had him dozing off as well. Maybe he could clean him up in the morning.

This was true peace. Just the two of them, always and forever.

#cross posted on ao3 #fanfic #fiction #rock rpf #rpf #guns n roses #guns n' roses #smut #fan fiction #gnr #richard fortus #4tus #robin finck #nine inch nails #00s rock #circa 2005 #fandom #idk how to tag on here lol

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dudethatsmyundeaduncle · 3 months

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DP x DC AU

Danny's gonna adopt all the Halfas in Gotham whether he wants to or not, and it's gonna start with the little dead girl he found after crawling out of that portal in the league base.

Pt 2 here. My Au Art

...........................

There's a dead little girl sitting on the rug in front of Danny's coffee table curiously eating Cheetos.

Well, she's not all the way dead, only half, could even be a little less then that, Danny would know he's sort of the leading expert on being half dead.

Her skins blue, like comic book mystique blue, vibrant and impossible to miss. Shes got these big black eyes and a nasty split going straight through her upper lip to just under her right eye.

She's also missing her nose, it's just gone, no cartilage left over just the gaping nasal cavity like skulls have.

The little girl looks dead, she is dead, or she's at least as dead as Danny is which is almost exclusively in name only.

Her name is Curaré, Danny only knows it because it's been branded into the skin of the little girls neck, just under the curve of her bald skull.

Curaré is terribly thin, the little toddler sized T-shirt she has on hangs loose around her torso where baby fat should fill it out.

She's horrible to look at, a tiny nightmare, her corpse like coloring doing nothing to mitigate the appearance.

Curaré was neither a healthy nor normal little girl, there was no way Danny could have left that league facility without her.

Oh and she almost exclusively spoke in Spanish which made finding her dinner hard.

Not that Cheetos are really dinner, little kids need to eat more then that Danny was pretty sure, like 89% sure. Although they did have a lot of calories...

Danny tilts his head absently as he looks at her, the little demon being illuminated red and green by the glow of the TV. She's enraptured by the Scooby doo rerun Gotham's only spanish language channel is playing tonight.

As if she can feel his eyes she turns to him and tilts her head the same way.

Danny blinks at her, Curaré blinks back.

" Uh- " Danny starts, trying to remember anything from his Spanish elective from sophomore year. God, his teacher had been right he had needed to study more. " The Cheetos, you like them? They're uh...bueno? Oh! Son Buenos?"

He points his finger down at the snack sized bag in her grasp, her fingers are tiny , they must be so fragile, looking at the desperate grasp they have on the bag makes Danny's chest hurt. How could anyone be so small? Had Danny ever been that small?

Curaré blinks again, long and slow, processing Danny's words. She looks down at her Cheetos and back up at Danny then she carefully holds the bag out to him.

" Oh no that's ok they're for you kiddo" Danny insists.

Curaré shakes the bag at him, like enticing a stray cat with treats but he only shakes his head again.

She gives up after that, shrugging and turning back to her cartoons.

Inside her chest Danny can feel her ghost core vibrate placidly as Scooby and Shaggy run across the TV in a panic.

Danny's own core can't help but try to match it's frequency, a low contented humming echoes between them, safe it seems to say.

Curaré can't be older then 4, which means she was resurrected young and that she died even younger. Danny doesn't know how any of it happened, halfas aren't created easily, the amount of energy needed...

She's so small.

He hopes it was fast, whatever it was that did this to her, made her like him.

Danny also hopes that her injuries aren't permanent. Some ghosts keep the carnage of their corpses well into the after life but as a Halfa Curaré should heal, even if she got those injuries during her ressurction. For her sake it'll be much easier to find some sense of normalcy if she isn't always actively bleeding, even if the blood itself is just an ecto-echo of real blood.

Danny curls his knees up to his chest and hides his face for a moment just trying to breathe. He's too young to be taking care of a toddler, he's still six months away from turning 18 and hes got school on Monday. His eyes burn and his throat constricts as he tries to swallow.

No one else but Danny would know how to take care of Curaré, and she's got no family to try and stumble their way through it. Danny can't take her back to the league and he sure as hell isn't going to search for whoever put that brand on her neck.

Even if he dropped her off at the fire station Gotham only has one Meta focused orphanage, it's state run and all the kids in it have to wear little prison style jump suits. And the food sucks, Danny can personally vouch for that.

She doesn't have a home, she's just as out of place here in Gotham as Danny is. Danny really wishes, not for the first time, that he had an adult here. Like Jazz or hell even Mr. Fuckin Lancer.

Just anyone. Anyone who could tell Danny what to do about this. Who could help him out with the child he's suddenly acquired.

He wishes anyone else was here so it wouldn't just be him and Curaré. Two dead kids sitting on the floor of a studio apartment in the Bowery watching cartoons.

What a pair the two of them will make, oh God. Danny laughs as a few tears stain his jeans.

Curaré makes a curious little noise that has Danny forcing his head up. She's reached the inevitable end of her snack sized bag and she looks absolutely devastated. She turns to look at him, tilting the empty bag towards him as if to say ' can you believe this shit!'

Danny can't help but give her a watery smile, no more crying Fenton, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

" Okay, one thing at a time." Danny tells himself. " You finished your Cheetos and now it's time for dinner, right? Stop me if I'm wrong."

Curaré just looks at him.

Danny's not worried, they're gonna have all the time in the world to teach her to appreciate humour and also English.

" I'm going to take that as a yes. " Danny hops up off the floor and goes to find his phone, nobody does dinner like the local Batburger.

Little foot steps follow him into the hallway, he'll have to get used to that sound he's going to be hearing it a lot.

Food first, everything would be better after they ate.

...............

For BG I imagine he's been living in Gotham for a few months and found Curaré while popping in and out of different portals in Gotham. (Who woulda guessed that some portal in Gotham leads right to the lazarus pit)

Note: if u wanna see cool art for this AU it's all in the Danny and the little dead girl au tag on my pg!

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #batfam #gotham #batman beyond #if yall didnt know curaré is an assasin from batman beyond #not an oc baby this isnt deviantart circa 2005 #i just imagine the bats meeting Danny and him eventually introducing them to his “kid” and just producing this little gremlin #and dannys all like “ isnt she adorable!”#and like yeah shes objectively terrifying looking but also the power of ecto babies is strong #and the batfam is weak #they will adopt jason into their halfa gang dont worry #dc x dp #danny and the little deadgirl au

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