Too Old For Fandom Drama

purikura jaydick (●'◡'●)

Found this weird fish.

Found this weird fish.

Some fake screenies from the first three chapters of my fic. :D

Always draw art of your fic, you have to be your own fan.

❤️💙 Jaydick Week is looking for new moderators!

Are you interested in shaping the future of Jaydick Week? Now's your chance! 

You may have noticed we've been less active on the event front---Mod Mori is very busy and Jaydick Week has had to take a backseat to real-life events and responsibilities. So we’re opening applications for one to two mods for future events! The primary goals of this role will be:

Making posts and graphics for future events and sharing them in a timely manner

Answering asks related to Jaydick Week and the Jaydick Discord Server

Keeping the blog updated on the backend (site design)

Sharing all Jaydick Week submissions and tagging them appropriately

Sharing posts for related and/or similar DC events/projects

General promotion and cheerleading of all things Jaydick

Interested in applying? The details and application can be found below the cut! ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️

Word count: 327

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It's the fourth morning in a row that he's woken up, half hard and sweating. His top sheet clings to his abdomen, soaked through. It's gross, and he wipes a hand over his face, smoothing over the scowl forming there.

Exhaustion has dulled the hinges on the vault in his mind that keeps Those Thoughts at bay, and out they float — a gloved hand holding out a piece of evidence for his second opinion, a hard shoulder shoved between his shoulder blades to keep him from getting flattened by a falling I bar, calloused hands tracing his ribcage searching for fractures.

Ocean deep eyes frowning up at him as he recoils.

Jason sucks in a shuddering breath. Blood rushes further south, engorging him more so that the tip of his cock nudges against the seam of his briefs. His skin warms at the contact. It's not enough. It's never enough — not when Jason takes himself in hand, not when he sticks his own fingers in his mouth, not when he's spilling onto hand towel he set down, not when a hand webbed with nearly invisible scars reaches for his face and pulls back —

He groans as the last of his orgasm rolls through him. Climax staves the sharpest edges of the hunger but does little for the ache in his bones. It had almost surfaced under Nightwing's ministrations earlier. He'd been panting by the end of the field triage and Dick had worried (because who the fuck wouldn't) and reached for him, and...and Jason flinched. So back the hand went, dangling from Dick's bent knee like it had always been there. A breath, then two, and Dick was back in Nightwing mode, domino reaffixed, standing, and not a hair out of place.

Jason nearly bit his tongue.

Dick's fault. Always his fault. Jason sighs and wipes his hand on the towel. His cock twitches again as the memory fades, as the ghost of an almost-touch recedes.

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