#Spring cleaning my drafts.

[grymghoul]

giving Arthur head request. im not ashamed

Me either

Sucking his dick is a heavenly experience. He's for the most part, a gentleman. He wants to give more than he receives. He goes down on you. So when he is presented with the opportunity, he holds back. He doesn't want you uncomfortable. That does not stop you from guzzling down his fat cock like a starved individual. All drooly and stupid for it. When he bucks up, he's testing the waters. You moan and nod and then he's fucking into your mouth. He hears you time your breath with each pull back. The way you swallow around him and gag. It's all too much for him. His heavy cock unloads on your tongue and throat, he keeps it there, so you have no choice but to swallow.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Still not over the “Captain Marvel is 8’5” to Billy Batsons 5’4”” reblog and thinking of someone seeing this unit of a man with all the kindness and positive radiance of a pure hearted child stopping a giant robot from crushing them like “sorry to bother you, I’ll get this out of your way lickety split!” And when he’s done demolishing the robot and looking like the wrath of god while doing so he just pops back down to ask if he can pet someone’s dog he saw while fighting.

The dog loves him, people are slightly perturbed bc he doesn’t even look human, he does but he’s uncanny. Just perfect symmetrical face with no blemishes and hair that refuses to budge but so unapologetically sweet and courteous Fawcett gets used to him and just get used to him being a home grown sweetheart.

Cue anyone else seeing him, like the League, and its alarm bells. He’s too good, he’s too perfect looking, and by god why is he so big.

First day? Batmans is upset he can’t find a facial match, Clark is suddenly in everyone else’s shoes at having to crane his neck to talk to the guy most the time, and Barda challenges him to a few strength tests he stalls out to have pleasant conversations with her during.

Diana just rings up the Olympians like “hey, did you guys make someone because this guy doesn’t look human right and says he works for Zeus.”

Again, down the line, identity reveal after the JL just got used to him after a week, and they are staring down at this scrawny teenager with chunky glasses, hearing aids, a face only a mother could love with all the scars, and rope burn scars on his wrists as he politely waves and introduces himself as radio host Billy Batson.

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie walks into his house after a three-day work trip in NYC to find…..a lot of boxes.

Most of them cardboard, most of them labeled DONATE or TRASH or GARAGE in Steve’s familiar handwriting.

“Oh, jeez,” Eddie mutters, because he knows what this is. Sure enough, he follows a trail of boxes upstairs to find the rest of his family in his youngest daughter Hazel’s room.

“Spring cleaning?” Eddie asks.

“Spring cleaning,” Moe says with an affirmative nod.

“Just Hazel’s room?” he asks, because Moe and Robbie are looking awfully comfortable sitting on Hazel’s bed while Hazel herself is rummaging through a back corner of her jam-packed closet, Steve watching over her shoulder with his hands on his hips.

“Uh, well, Moe ‘doesn’t do clutter’,” Steve says as he looks over at Eddie, “and therefore is exempt, apparently, and Robbie’s room gives me a migraine.”

“Plus,” Moe cuts in, “Robbie’s room is all clutter. If we get rid of it all, she'd have no personality left.”

“Hey,” Robbie says, jabbing her elbow into Moe's side, “Don’t be rude.”

Steve gives Eddie a do you see what I’m dealing with kind of look as Hazel finally emerges from her closet. 

“Dad, do you want this?” Hazel asks, holding out a very small, dog-shaped notebook with a comically large spiral binding that she probably acquired when she was in elementary school, “For writing or whatever?”

“Uh…”

“Just say yes so I can move some shit out of here,” Steve mutters, so Eddie takes the notebook from Hazel, and as soon as she was turning back to her closet, Steve took it from him and tossed it into the ‘Donate’ box in the hallway.

A moment later, Hazel emerged again, turning around to show everyone two plastic lawn flamingos (mismatched, Eddie notes).

“Thoughts?” she asked.

“Hon, those don’t even match,” Steve says (and he sounds all beleaguered and everything as if all this wasn’t his crusade to begin with), “They’re two totally different shades of pink.”

“Well, did you know that they’re actually white when they’re born? And then they eat mostly shrimp and that’s how they turn pink.”

Steve just stares at her for a moment, “Okay, Haze, those are plastic.”

“You should keep those,” Moe said, “Genuinely they’re, like, decor. You can put them somewhere.”

They spend a few minutes watching Hazel precariously balance the flamingos’ spindly legs on top of her bookshelf, but it doesn't take long for something else to catch Steve's eye.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, jutting his chin in the direction of something on an open shelf of Hazel’s dresser.

Hazel fetches a plastic Starbucks cup with a dozen or so dusty rocks inside.

“They’re rocks,” Hazel points out, “From when we went to the Grand Canyon.”

“Okay…” Steve says slowly, “Do they have to be in your sock drawer?”

“Why don’t you put them on your windowsill?” Robbie suggests, “You can charge the rocks, like, spiritually.”

“Oh yeah, there’s an idea,” Steve comments, but Hazel is already halfway to the window. Still, she pauses, and then turns back to face them.

“Do you think they miss their home?” she asks.

“What?” Steve looks at her.

“In the Grand Canyon?”

“Oh, Hazel,” Steve sighs.

“We could try to ship them back,” Moe suggests.

“None of you are helping.”

[midorimooon]

bad timing | hawks x sidekick! reader

word count - 1.5k notes - just a drabble featuring reader as hawks's sidekick. no plot, just these two flirting and having inappropriate work relations. warnings - suggestive, no smut! just humor and banter. allusion to erection.

Something pelts your shoulder, plopping at your feet.  Clicking your tongue, your bleary eyes blink at the hacky sack on the floor.

You look up, frowning. “Can I help you?”

A red feather plucks up the hacky sack and drops it onto Hawks’s palm. He tilts his head, assessing you. “What’s with the slow motion? You look tiiiiired.”

On cue, a yawn slips out before you can stop it. Between the late-night patrol and reporting back to Hawks’s agency at the crack of dawn, your sharp motor skills have turned to cotton, leaving you exhausted. Sidekick duties never seem to end. 

You shrug, failing to cover another, more hefty yawn. “I’m fine.”

Hawks snorts a mimicry of your own voice. “’I’m fine’. Says someone who’s dead on her feet.”

“I’m fine,” you echo, rubbing the corner of your eye. “Just a little sleepy. I’ll wake up in a bit.”

Ice rattles as a full cup of coffee is shaken before your face. Hawks urges you to take his drink. “Here, this’ll help.”

Your nose wrinkles and you inch away. “Don’t like coffee.”

Hawks sips on the straw, smacking his lips. “Then sleep.”

Another yawn springs forth. “Right...I'll just snooze while on the clock."

"Who cares? Have a nap." He gestures to the couch, beaming with mischief. “It’s big enough for the both of us. Did you know I’m a good cuddler?”

Your frown deepens. “Don’t you have paperwork? Or a meeting elsewhere? Interns to train?”

Unfazed, Hawks shrugs. “All of the above, but those can wait. I’m more concerned about my sidekick. She needs my attention right now…” His voice drops into a playful purr as he motions forward. 

You step backward, maintaining an HR-appropriate distance. It’s obvious where Hawks wants this to go. You can decipher his tells at a distance—how his eyes rake up your body, snagging on your lips as he bites his own, all without shame too. Then comes the crooning in his voice, the pride whenever he says my sidekick, and how he knows you’re just as shameless as he is. 

The corner of your mouth curls, proving him right time and time again.   

Is it professional? Of course not. But you both have a pulse, unable to ignore that sweet, sexual tension that’s been brewing since you signed with his agency. 

You’ve both mastered this dance between boss and subordinate. It’s always business in front of others. Strictly maintaining a professional and platonic façade with the public wasn’t hard either.

What’s hard was the endless close proximity to him. On assignment, there were other sidekicks tagging along, and the occasional intern from UA. 

Still, that never stopped either of you from exchanging heated looks and sometimes touches when no one was looking. The rare moments when there was no one around often tested those professional boundaries, like right now. 

Because despite it all, there remains that fine line you’ve yet to cross. Him on one side, you on the other. Only time will tell when and who will be the first to throw caution to the wind and cross over. 

You know it won’t be you. At least not now…

“Hawks…” The back of your legs hit the couch’s armrest, only aware that Hawks had led you there with every forward step. 

If he wants to (you want, too, but you keep that to yourself), Hawks could coax you on your back with his charm. But you stay resilient, pretend that your pulse isn’t racing. “That paperwork’s not gonna do itself.”

He quirks a brow, taking your chin in his gloved hand. “Neither am I.”

The double-meaning behind his words is almost enough to have you break. 

Before his lips could mesh with yours, you turn away, yawning loudly, and ruining the mood. “I should catch up with the others.”

Hawks expels a dramatic sigh. “Why do you hate me?”

You laugh. “Who said that?”

“It’s true. You’re always running off to hang with them.” His fingers trail the neckline of your uniform. “What about me? I get lonely too.”

You lift a brow. “They are in the same pay range as me. And you—” You poke a finger to his toned chest to no avail. “Have a laundry list of shit to do today.”

Hawks takes your hand, pressing it against the side of his face. “Later. Got other priorities.”

“Hawks, I’m fine.”

“You’re tense and tired.” He nuzzles into your palm, kissing your fingertips. “Let me help you relax. My sidekick needs to blow off steam and I want to help her.”

“What about your other sidekicks? They could use some of your TLC too,” you tease. 

“They’re fine,” Hawks muses, running your fingers along his lips. “Don’t tell them this.” Suddenly his voice drops to a murmur. “But you’re my favorite.”

You roll your eyes to mask the heat crawling up your neck. Of course, you knew that already, but it still made you weak-kneed to hear him say it. 

“So? What do you say?” He perks up, hopeful and charming. “Let your hero Hawks help you…”

Before you could reiterate the bad timing, a gasp rushes out of you. 

Hawks had managed to slip your middle finger into his mouth, biting down to interrupt you. “I can start with tongue,” he mumbles, sucking on your finger. 

For a moment, you’re spellbound, gawking at his plush lips wrapped around your finger. Your mind blanks, elusive to all thought. 

“Have I convinced you yet?” Hawks bites down again, sharper than before. 

You hiss, reeling your hand free so abruptly, you fall back. 

Soft leather catches your fall. You get a glimpse of the overhead lights before Hawks crawls over you, wings fanned out and a halo limns behind his head. 

“Look at that, you changed your mind after all,” he croons with a noticeable edge. Despite the ramifications, you’re relieved when bears down to kiss you. 

It’s not a soft kiss either. It’s full of vigor and desperation—

Fury.

After months and months of toeing the line between hero and sidekick, this is how your first kiss with Hawks should feel. 

Tossing caution to the wind, you match his rhythm. It’s a stroke of tongues, an exchange of desperate noise, an all-consuming hunger to devour the other. 

You break apart for air, a thin thread of saliva tethering your lips to his. “Hawks…”

“Keigo,” he growls. “As cool as Hawks sounds, I’d rather you hear you moan my name.” 

Your skin heats both at his authority and the intimate request. “Keigo…” you husk, watching his eyes darken. 

Something akin to satisfaction flashes behind his eyes. He leans in again.

As his lips ghost yours, a loud buzzing rumbles against the couch’s cushion. Seconds later, another noise joins the first.

You recognize them to be your phones, alerting you both of an emergency nearby. 

Hawks groans, sinking his face into your shoulder. “Why?”

The buzzing persists, urgent and dire, you know neither of you can wait any longer.

“Rain check,” you say, shifting under Hawks’s weight. 

He shakes his head, keeping you pinned. “Five minutes…” He slots his mouth over yours like he won’t get this chance again. 

All you hear is the rush of adrenaline in your ears until—

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Hawks!” a voice calls out from behind the office doors. “We received the emergency alert.”

Bless his new intern, Tsukuyomi. 

“Bad timing, birdman.” You manage to slip away, and Hawks begrudgingly lets you. 

He huffs, sending his feathers to gather his visor and headphones. He does a quick a onceover on his phone to assess the emergency and gets on his feet. 

“I’ll lead Tsukuyomi and the others,” you offer, heading towards the door. 

“I’ll come with you.” Hawks follows but you stop him. 

“No, you get a head start and take the window.” 

“The window?” Hawks’s brows furrow together, clueless for a second, then follows where your eyes have drifted to. He puffs out a shameless laugh, reminded of his raging erection, visible beneath his belt. “Ah…right. Should take care of this…”

Hero work can be so cruel. 

You’re equally disappointed. Finally, giving in to temptation and the world decides to burn. 

Now that you’ve had a sample, you couldn’t care less anymore about the ramifications. You and Hawks could deal with all that at a later date. 

You reach out to stroke his jaw, admiring how your touch makes his throat roll in a slow gulp. “I’m off at 7p, remember?”

His eyes are alight. “Meet me here.”

He tries to steal a kiss, but you dodge it, reminding him, “Emergency now. That couch…later.”

[leonard-cold]

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb

(The newbie POV)

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 1300ish words. Spring cleaning who? Another old one. People seemed to like the law student, here’s a little POV switch—non-MC!reader as the barista newbie. Expect internal struggle, hot barista Caleb, banter, and flirting. Let me know which POV you prefer in the poll! Law student POV here.

Tags: @gavin3469

The newbie | Pilot

You are late.

Not disastrously late, not fireable late, but definitely jogging through the streets with your bag slapping against your side, desperately hoping that Caleb doesn’t notice late.

And the worst part? It’s his fault.

Because waking up this morning had been a battle. Not just against your alarm—which you snoozed four times—but against the absolute war of deciding what to wear.

You never put this much effort into work. Normally, it’s whatever sweater is clean, ripped jeans, and your usual piercings (nose, tongue, ears—your little armor against feeling too soft).

But today?

Today you stood in front of the mirror for fifteen entire minutes debating if a fitted turtleneck would be too much.

In the end, you went for an oversized sweater, tucked slightly into high-waisted slacks that fit just right. Enough to look put-together, but not like you tried. Because effort is embarrassing.

And now?

Now you’re barreling through the café doors, boots squeaking violently against the freshly mopped floor.

Caleb looks up immediately.

One eyebrow lifts. “Rough morning?”

You.exe malfunctions immediately.

“Uh—” You straighten, shoving your hands into your pockets like that will somehow rewind time and erase the last three seconds. “No. Just—y’know. Traffic.”

Caleb tilts his head. “You walk here.”

You want to crawl into the espresso machine and never come out.

“…Right.”

Caleb just smirks, shaking his head like he’s already entertained. “Hurry up, then. You’re with me at the counter today.”

You.exe malfunctions again.

——————————————————————————

The morning rush destroys you.

Not because of the customers—not really. It’s because of Caleb.

Caleb, who moves too smoothly, too easily. Who leans an elbow against the counter like he owns the place, rolling up his sleeves as he waits for the next shot to pull.

At one point, he steps behind you to grab a milk pitcher, one hand lightly grazing the small of your back as he passes.

“‘Scuse me,” he says, casual. Too casual.

You.exe malfunctions for a third time.

And then, as if the universe is personally targeting you, she walks in.

You know her now.

The law student.

The golden girl.

She always looks put together, but today? Today she’s got her hair in a tight ponytail, her lipstick fresh, her whole presence practically radiating confidence.

And she sees you.

Your eyes meet across the counter.

The recognition is instant.

Her expression: Yeah. You get it now, don’t you?

Your expression: Please. Take me out of this hell.

But you both know what’s about to happen.

Because Caleb notices her immediately.

“Hey, golden girl,” he says, already reaching for a cup.

You swear she glows.

“Hey,” she says smoothly, stepping up to the counter. “Tell me something scandalous.”

Caleb lifts a brow, lips twitching. “You mean besides your order history?”

She grins. “Low blow. I’m trying to be unpredictable.”

“Right,” he says, already reaching for a cup. “Green tea. Living dangerously.”

“Mock me all you want,” she says, resting her elbows on the counter. “But I need my brain intact.”

Caleb hums, pen hovering. “Name?”

She blinks. “Seriously?”

He shrugs. “Slipped my mind.”

She narrows her eyes, amused. “We’ve done this dance.”

Caleb just grins, writes something, and spins the cup toward her.

In bold, looping script: golden girl.

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, already turning to make her drink, “you keep coming back.”

You are standing right here.

Watching this happen in real time.

It is exhausting.

It’s not that she’s bad at flirting—she’s just fearless now. Like she’s gone all-in. Unbothered. Confident. She looks Caleb dead in his devastating face like he’s just some guy, not a full-fledged, government-certified problem

And the worst part? Caleb just rolls with it.

Effortless.

Like he’s used to this. Like it doesn’t even register as flirting to him.

Caleb twirls the cup between his fingers, the soft rasp of his rings brushing against the paper sleeve filling the quiet moment. With a practiced turn, he angles the lid so the sip hole faces her, then slides it across the counter.

“Same time tomorrow, then?”

She just lifts her drink in an easy wave before heading out, looking perfectly content with her life choices.

You exhale quietly through your nose and turn back to the counter, grabbing a stack of clean cups and beginning to restock the tower, one clink at a time.

The repetition helps. It’s mindless, mechanical. Stack, rotate, stack.

You refill the espresso hopper next, pouring beans in slowly, deliberately—anything to stay busy, to not look like you’re still thinking about the name Golden Girl swirling in Sharpie on a takeaway cup.

You’re fine.

This is fine.

Totally normal coworker moment. Totally normal shift.

And then—the universe delivers one final hit.

Caleb appears beside you.

Like he materializes out of thin air.

No warning. No footsteps. Just a sudden, smug presence.

He leans his hip casually against the counter, like you summoned him with your stress.

“So,” he says, tilting his head at you, all violet eyes and soft smirk. “I feel like I didn’t get a real answer last time—how bad did the tongue piercing actually hurt?”

You.exe blue-screens.

Because no, absolutely not, we are NOT doing this again. So instead, you swallow and mumble, “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Caleb hums, eyes narrowing just slightly like he’s really thinking it through. “Huh. You probably have a high pain tolerance, then. I’ve bitten my tongue before—that’s bad enough. Can’t imagine getting a needle through it.”

You nod, barely. Already floating above your body. Already somewhere far away where this isn’t happening.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a little too quickly, like your body answered before you could think.

And then—

“Got any other ‘hidden piercings?’” Caleb asks, fingers flicking the air quotes as he leans in just slightly—grinning.

Just like that.

Like it’s nothing.

Like it’s a totally normal thing to ask a coworker before 10 a.m.

Which—it is not.

It is absolutely not.

You could make a list of questions appropriate for early morning workplace conversations, and that would not be on it. What time do you clock out today? Acceptable. How bad was that last rush? Also fine. Hey, do you have anything sharp inserted through parts of your body that I can’t see? NOT FINE.

But Caleb asks it like he’s wondering if you have a dog.

He shifts his weight slightly, one hand braced against the edge of the counter. His eyes are on you. Open, curious, and way too calm.

And then—he winks.

It’s subtle. A flick of movement beneath lashes that are way too long for anyone’s safety.

You see it.

You don’t know what it is, but it’s not safe. Not for your heart. Not for your nerves. Not for your currently melting dignity.

And then—just like that—he’s done.

“Aaanyway,” Caleb says, already peeling away from the counter, heading toward the pastry case with a stretch that makes his shirt pull tight across his back. “I’m getting a muffin.”

Like he didn’t just ask you about hidden body piercings, wink, and obliterate your soul before breakfast.

He glances back over his shoulder, calm as ever. “You want one?”

You stare at him, borderline comatose.

You are hanging onto reality by a thread, and this man is just thinking about muffins.

You need to go home.

Immediately.

Except—you can’t.

Because you still have hours left on your shift.

Hours.

With Caleb.

And as if things weren’t already unbearable, he returns to the counter with a muffin in hand, casually tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth.

You watch him chew.

Why are you watching him chew??

He wipes the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and then licks it—licks it—without a second thought, and your soul immediately exits your body for the second time today.

He’s just eating.

Just existing.

Just… being hot and chewing at the same time.

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: So y’all have gently encouraged me into doing a little spring cleaning in my drafts—bahaha. Here’s the newbie! Hope you like them. I seriously can’t pick between the newbie and the law student, which is why they’ve just been marinating in my notes forever. I couldn’t bring myself to kill any darlings. Let me know which POV you prefer before I spend the whole bank holiday happily spiraling into both. The weather’s awful anyway, so it’s peak writing time! Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[sskk-manifesto]

Atsushi Nakajima – Bungou Stray Dogs Season 2 ( •̀ ︿ •́ )

[nonrevsims]

🌲⛲ The Hidden Springs Greenhouse x the details

Bonus picture under the cut

Love this night shot but it didn't fit the theme

[strorberrysquid]

yeah....

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Honestly if I do a dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde story with my favorite guys I’d have to keep to the theme and make Marvel Jekyll and Billy Hyde if he’s dubious

Marvel being the socially acceptable identity with friends and prestige; Safe

Billy as a lil homeless kid whose getting truancy charges up a wazoo and doesn’t have to be 100% perfect but chooses too; Unsafe

It’d honestly be a reverse of the situation bc then it’s conceptually Hyde turning into Jekyll but then comes the whole “what’s the vice/horrible secret urge thing” that I’m probably just going to write off as his identity but then there’s the whole murder thing. Idk man, concept feels too juicy to leave behind but idk how much I can torture the blorbo

[merymoonbeam]

You know how every world has a kill switch and it is a blackhole(a void) and bryce used another blackhole to destroy it so....

Bryce = a Black hole aka void = destroy with another Black hole

Cauldron = has void in it and it is the kill switch of acotar = tt and gwydion can create void(a portal to nowhere)

Tt + gwydion = destroy the void in cauldron

Get rid of cauldron...would that mean we would get rid of the corruption asteri had over it...get rid of mating bond corruption.......

Or maybe we can just unmade cauldron? Tt can unmade things. It is the only bridge of connection between elain and azriel...so lets unmade cauldron lmfao.

[remarcely]

Sleeping Robin

Since his arrival at Wayne Manor, it had been remarkably difficult for Damian to feel comfortable expressing his feelings, especially when it came to something so menial as affection. Dick had been the first to wear him down, constantly encouraging hugs and sharing his feelings, but it had taken time.

As emotionally volatile as the whole family was, they knew pushing for results would only scare the boy off. It had taken months for Damian to stop standing rigidly still whenever Dick did hug him and allow himself to hold him back.

So, when Robin was visiting the Watchtower for his third time and had fallen asleep on Batman’s lap, it was understandable to say Bruce was surprised.

He’d been showing his son the security systems and, with no other chair available, had lifted Damian to sit on his knee at a distance from the rest of him, just in case Damian was uncomfortable.

However, perhaps from a weeks’ worth of restless nights or the deep timbre of Batman’s voice as he spoke, Damian had scooted closer to curl up on Bruce's chest and rested his head right over his father’s heartbeat. In less than a minute, his eyes were shut and he was fast asleep.

Bruce hadn’t noticed at first, continuing to explain the setup, and only realised his youngest was snoozing when Damian snuggled closer. He hesitantly removed his hand from the computers keyboard and brushed back his son’s hair, fondly smiling down at his sleeping face.

In moments like this, the boys constant tension faded and his expression was free from scowls and harsh lines. Like this, Bruce could pretend he'd never been exposed to the League, that the scars on his back were a false memory, and his son was okay.

Bruce shifted in his seat a little, bringing his cape up to tuck around Damian and decided to continue the rest of his camera-duty in silence.

[leonard-cold]

[cruel-hiraeth]

there’s something about crossing lines that you know you shouldn’t out of desperation…if it’s wrong then why does it feel so right?

[nonrevsims]

🌲⛲ The Hidden Springs Greenhouse x the floor plan

aka the wedding venue I built back in 2023. This lot has the cutest backstory and was the perfect spot for generation 5 of my lepacy to get married at. I can't wait to share this one with y'all ... eventually.

[gilliebee]

Lord Stanley's Summer (Episode 3)