#but here’s a prompt for ya!

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #35

There's a Teen Titans, there's a Young Justice, but there's no Teen Superhero team that deals with things that Justice League: Dark does. And, well, John's a little tired.

Once teenager superheroes stop being teenager superheroes, and they seem to belong with JLD, they got tossed in the team. But, they aren't prepared for the team. They haven't dealt quite with threats that JLD handles all the time. They're not experienced enough.

So, John decides it's time to get a Young Justice: Dark team started. He's shit at leading, though, so he calls Phantom for a favor.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

mother im hungry for some angst and horny , may i ask for a hero x villain where they both hate each other but end up having hate sex after a real bad argument 🥺🙏

The hero remembered that one time when the villain broke their collarbone. They had just broken into a museum, stealing expensive vases and ancient relics, making it infuriatingly difficult to get them back on the black market.

The hero had arrived at the scene of the crime before anyone else, just in time to catch the villain. But as the villain prepared to flee, they cracked the hero’s collarbone into two with a steel pipe. Smirking, they’d blown the hero a kiss. A present for you.

It had hurt like hell. The hero had been unable to move for weeks, being practically useless to the agency. Christ, they still had problems with their shoulder at times. Too much exercise, too little exercise: it was a nasty pain that didn’t quite leave them.

And right now, the villain sucked the third hickey into the hero’s skin, right there where they had done the damage.

The hero cursed quietly, hating and loving how much it hurt.

“Asshole,” the hero hissed.

“Did you say something?” The villain’s voice was low, still angry and already a little drunk on pleasure. It had started out with both of them hooking up when they were drunk. The hero had suggested it and the villain had been much too happy to use that opportunity. It had been messy and quick (and good). A one time thing.

But that was really it.

For a week, until it became a little routine. No feelings involved, except for hatred.

And when opinions clashed against each other and insults were thrown into the air today, the hero needed something to calm down. Apparently this helped both of them.

“I hate you,” the hero said, despite the villain being inside them. “You disgust me.”

“Oh, boohoo. Is someone sad they’re not getting what they want? Poor hero, must be terrible.”

“Fuck off,” the hero said, pushing the villain’s face away with their hand. “I’ve been working for weeks on this mission. You have no right to—”

The villain pinned their wrists above their head and shut the hero up with a kiss. It was quite counterproductive, the hero was aware of that. It wasn’t healthy either but it was all the hero had. Sometimes being close to someone, anyone, at all costs was worth a broken heart. Just a little.

The villain pulled away, panting heavily.

“I thought we’re over this. I like you. But you’re not more important than my work.”

Ouch. The hero swallowed, thinking what desperate part of their brain had made them hope they could be more than enemies.

They knew the villain would smash they collarbone anytime without batting an eye and maybe it was good the way that it was.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” the villain said. “We’re both enjoying this, let’s not ruin it.”

The hero took in a shaky breath. Yes, they agreed. They enjoyed this, they enjoyed the villain’s company. It made them want to punch the villain even more.

“Now be a doll and spread your legs a little more,” the villain mumbled.

And the hero hated how fast they forgave them.

[eddie4bat-president]

I can so perfectly picture Eddie as this doordasher wearing that shirt

He is. So So Tired, just to start off the day. Did not sleep at all the night before because first he was in the zone perfecting his latest campaign but then he went a little overboard with the villain's backstory; then he realized that if his party didn't question specific people and roll high enough persuasion to get this information, he wouldn't get to tell this story. So then he went on to craft an npc bard who would be singing about the villain and- wait he's a songwriter. Oh how sick would it be if he had his players in a tavern or something after they defeated the Big Bad and then Eddie, at the table, could take out his guitar and play that song to tell the villain's tragic backstory? Amazing, showstopping, incredible. Except he was almost done writing a song he could play on his acoustic that would sound kind of medieval-ly when he realized- wait this is good, actually. What the fuck. He should make a real song out of this for Corroded Coffin. And when he finally tries to go to sleep he keeps laying wide awake with ideas for a whole concept album from the viewpoint of the Bard and-

Point is he's borderline delirious when he gets dressed to dash to some doors - enough that when he looks at the “if she sits on your face, she legally owns you…. Squatters rights and all that” on the shirt Jeff got him for his birthday he giggles for a minute straight while getting dressed and then on and off again until he's in his van.

He loses some time in the routine of getting people their shit and driving until he rings a bell and a distracted pin-up angel from jock-heaven opens the door in some ratty green basketball shorts and nothing else unless you count the t-shirt he's decidedly not wearing but using to wipe... flour? And something else? From his face.

"Hi, sorry, give me a second - I don't care that you're old enough to drive, Henderson! You don't touch another thing in that kitchen until I'm back or I swear to God- give me a second, I want to give you the tip in cash, that's better for you, right?" "...Huh? Yeah, it's- yeah" Sue him, Eddie's distracted. There's hairy chest right in front of his sleep-deprived face and he's considering his conversion to becoming a tits man - except in that moment the (literally) dirty angel turns away and oh Jesus Christ. Yeah, no, still an ass man. Oh wow.

He loses some time again and when he's all there once more he's holding a marker and has just - in view of his future owner, fingers crossed - blacked out the "S" on his shirt so it says "if ■he sits on your face, ■he legally owns you" instead. He's still trying to figure out how this happened and if the surprised look on his doordashee's face is leaning good or bad when fucking Dustin Henderson walks around the corner.

[squishablesunbeam]

Caretaker lightly brushes their fingers along the leather straps that crisscross over Whumpee's face as they sleep fitfully with their head in Caretaker's lap. They have to be in pain. Angry red marks peek out from under the hard leather that bind the muzzle firmly in place. The heavy lock resting against the back of their head.

Caretaker starts to wonder if, just maybe, they could pry the leather away from Whumpee's soft skin and give Whumpee some small measure of relief. Let them feel their touch instead of that endless pressure of the cruel straps. They press their finger against Whumpee's skin, dipping it just barely into the hollow of their cheek before slipping it carefully underneath one of the leather straps that lay across Whumpee's cheekbone. Caretaker's heart swells with victory. There's barely enough room, the strap now laying across the tip of their finger instead of cutting into Whumpee's raw skin.

It's so tight.

Whumpee makes a small, soft sound and Caretaker freezes. They don't want to hurt Whumpee. They watch carefully as Whumpee rolls their muzzled face against Caretaker's thigh and settles back into sleep. Caretaker gets back to their task, slipping their finger along the length of the strap and prying the leather gently up in places where it sticks in Whumpee's tacky blood. They move onto the next, pressing their finger underneath the strap that loops under Whumpee's ear and over their jaw. Slowly, they work their fingers underneath all the biting edges of leather that binds Whumpee's jaw shut impossibly tight and then starts again.

Caretaker tries to convince themself that they're helping. They're doing something, even if they can't break them out of this god awful cell or take their place with Whumper even once. They are weak. Powerless in this place. But at least they can do this.

[isleofsodora]

I can’t stop thinking about your duck istg 😭

He’s too handsome help a ashdhhs-

I DUN GOOFED REAL HARD!!! Why’d you do this to me Edward?!?! 😅😅😅😭😭😭

This was literally the first scenario that my brain thought of and I couldn’t fucking sleep till I got the rough draft done! My brain had an impulse and I couldn’t shake it! Where’s my fellow Duck simp fans at?! Come and get him while he’s still hot right out of the shower!!!

And I bet this didn’t help you at all sweetheart, so sorry about that! (Not really 😈)

[roseytoesy]

WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO VOREVILE'S OFICCIAL VORETOBER PROMPTS!

Created for those who are in voreville or for any interested in doing a fun prompt list for this october!

feel free to participate! just use the tag #voreville voretober

Prompt list under the cut!

[kirbyskisses]

kyoutani and tsukki are both on the same college team post-timeskip s-so smol chubby fangirl (y/n) getting bullied n’ fucked dumb by the two, tall blond meanies on her favorite team… ;(

[upsidedowngrass]

i dont rly wanna make any of these individual posts so! heres a whole lot of assorted stuff from recently!!!!

[godlizzza]

can u write trans danbert smut? your choice whos trans or both is good! :-)

"That's...interesting," Herbert said.

It wasn't the worst answer Dan had imagined but it wasn't exactly the most promising either.

"Um. Okay," he replied from his spot in the middle of the living room. Herbert, sitting primly on the sofa, legs crossed, hands in his lap, watched him with a slight furrow in his brow. Dan's hands went from hanging by his sides, to his hips, to awkwardly crossing over his chest. His palms were clammy and his brow was damp with cold sweat. "Is that-? Is that a good interesting?"

Herbert seemed to consider this before shrugging. "It's a neutral interesting."

"This doesn't change anything though," Dan insisted, eying Herbert's expression for any cracks, any sign that what he'd just heard made him think differently of Dan. "Nothing would be any different."

"Well, that's not true," Herbert said, causing Dan's heart to freeze in his chest. "A vagina is considerably different to a penis."

Dan's heart stuttered back to life as he nearly choked on his own spit.

"Where did you even get that thing?" Herbert asked, eyes blown wide and glued to Dan's dick.

Dan glanced down at his strap-on, now secured in the harness. The weight of it between his legs was a comfort, the colour of it so close to that of his skin he could pretend it was a part of his body. He gripped it in a loose fist as he turned back to Herbert, who was splayed out on the bed, his legs knocked apart.

He looked deliciously disheveled, with his glasses off, shirt unbuttoned and pants on the floor. He still wore his socks, held up by a pair of black garters, the strip of spandex the same colour as the hair dusting his legs. Dan could see he was getting hard, his cock pushing against the confines of his white briefs, and that knowledge- that the sight of Dan's naked body was affecting Herbert so much- had his back straightening and his spirits lifting.

"At a shop," Dan replied, bracing one knee on the edge of the mattress, between Herbert's spread legs. He rubbed the head of it against the inside of Herbert's thigh and smirked at the flush that bloomed across his pale skin. "Like it?"

"It's-" Herbert swallowed and Dan watched his throat bob, "-big."

Dan chuckled as he crawled onto the bed and over Herbert, forcing him onto his back. Herbert blinked up at him, cheeks pink, as Dan leaned down and nuzzled at his neck. Their chests were pressed flush together, something Dan would have once avoided in the bedroom, before his surgery a couple of years ago. Now, he reveled in the matching flatness of his and Herbert's pecs, their body heat seeping into each other.

"You'll be fine," Dan murmured as he nosed at Herbert's neck. "I believe in you."

Herbert snorted, his hands coming up tentatively to grip Dan's shoulders. "Well, thank you for that vote of confidence. That's very kind of y-"

He broke off with a gasp as Dan cupped him through his briefs. His fingers dug into Dan's shoulders as he ground his palm against Herbert's erection, bringing him to full hardness. Herbert moaned into his ear and Dan soaked in the sound, spurring him on to reach past Herbert's waistband and take him in his hand.

The noise Herbert let out was obscene, throaty and loud, and sending Dan's blood shooting south. He was tempted to finish Herbert off then and there, as he had quite a few times before. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of watching Herbert come apart from his touch, but they'd gone into this tonight with a game plan that Dan intended to stick to.

He withdrew his hand, earning him a whine of protest, but Dan barreled on, tugging at Herbert's underwear until Herbert acquiesced and lifted his legs up. Dan pulled Herbert's briefs down the length of his legs and tossed them somewhere over his shoulder. He took a brief moment to take in the sight of Herbert's bare, weeping cock dripping against his stomach, before he was crowding over him again and kissing him feverishly.

"Shh," Dan said against Herbert's lips. "Shh, let me."

Herbert's head tipped back against the pillow and he whimpered at the ceiling as Dan reached for the lube.

He'd never fucked someone in the ass before and Herbert, in turn, had never been fucked up the ass, so it was a first for the both of them. It took some time and a lot of work from Dan's fingers to get Herbert loose and relaxed enough to take Dan's dick, but once he was sheathed inside him, they both let out matching moans.

Herbert's skin was blotchy and red from his face, down to his chest, both from the worked-up state he was in and the ministrations of Dan's mouth as he'd pried him open. His head was tipped back, his hands holding Dan's shoulders in a vice grip and the balls of his feet digging into the backs of Dan's thighs. Dan fucked into him shallowly, each roll of his hips drawing a gasping breath from Herbert's lips. The base of the silicone strap rubbed against Dan's t-dick as he fucked into Herbert, sending lightning pleasure shooting up his spine.

"Fuck," he panted into Herbert's neck. "Fuck. Herbert-"

"Keep going," Herbert hissed, his voice strained.

When Dan doggedly lifted his head up to look at him, he found Herbert with his eyes screwed shut. He hoped it was from pleasure and not the pain of taking him.

"Is that good?" Dan asked, but even so, unable to keep still. He kept rolling his hips, the length of his cock sliding in and out of Herbert. Dan almost wished he could lean back and watch it, but that would mean pulling away from Herbert and he wasn't prepared to do that. "Is that good, baby?"

Even in the throws of pleasure, Herbert had the capacity to look pissed off. He cracked an eye open to glare up at Dan.

"Don't call me that," he barked. He nudged his heel into Dan's ass, none too gently. "And don't stop."

Dan had no plans on stopping. He curled his fingers into the sheets and proceeded to plough into Herbert with purpose, fucking him into the mattress. Every snap of his hips punched noises of pleasure out of Herbert and rubbed against Dan's dick. He could feel his orgasm quickly mounting, the sensation pooling like molten steel in his gut, and he knew if he didn't slow down it would soon be over.

But he didn't want to slow down- couldn't slow down. It was like he'd lost control of his body, his brain taking the back seat to his cock. He continued to fuck into Herbert, hard and fast, their moaning almost in synch with the squeak of the mattress.

"Fuck, you're hot," Dan babbled, enraptured by the bead of sweat clinging to Herbert's cheek.

Herbert arched up against him, his cock rubbing against Dan's stomach.

"Dan," he gasped, and that was enough to send Dan over the edge.

He came with a long groan, grinding against the strap through his orgasm, until the pulsations of pleasure ceased between his legs. Beneath him, Herbert came against his abs, his come spattering their skin and making their grinding bodies squelch. Dan didn't mind the mess though. In that moment, he felt as though nothing could ever bother him again. What could possibly bring him down from a cloud so high?

Dan slumped over Herbert, boneless, and after a minute of heavy breathing from the both of them, Herbert began to squirm beneath him. With a grunt, Dan pulled out and rolled over, flopping back against the mattress. Herbert's arm craned over Dan's chest, fumbling on the bedside table for his glasses. Dan passed them to him wordlessly and Herbert slipped them on as he tried to catch his breath.

Eventually, Dan broke the silence by saying, "See? I told you you could handle it."

Herbert responded by slapping him on the shoulder.

Dan just laughed.

[whumpwillow]

Hero with Bad Publicity: people they've sworn to protect hate their guts. could arise for any number of reasons but whatever the reason, public sentiment is against these heroes, and there's usually nothing they can do about it.

Resulting from the hero's actions:

Missed payments

He's a jerk.

He deserves it.

He's an unapologetic bigot.

He was a bad guy in the past.

He pulls a Zero-Approval Gambit.

His powers are harmful/"bad" by nature.

He's the type who benefits from it.

He usually screws up and does more harm than good.

People might just want to pick on the hero because:

People do not agree with the hero

The hero is different.

The hero has powers.

People like pissing off someone above their Super Weight category.

Ungrateful people Complain About Rescues They Don't Like.

Other:

He has been framed, possibly by the villain.

Freedom of Speech, which is a common justification used.

Anonymous rumors, perhaps planted by a Villain with Good Publicity.

The Hero is the centerpiece to some disastrous prophecy.

The hero's constant proximity to awful events makes him appear suspicious.

The news media just needs to sell some copies.

The news media/corporations/government really hates his guts for doing something anti-establishment.

The latest fashionable ideas rule out the idea of him being anything other than a villain.

He looks or seems indistinguishable from the real villains.

Zero-Approval Gambit: the plan costs you your reputation. will knowingly risk — or deliberately seek — a 0% Approval Rating and paint themself in a bad light in order to achieve some greater good.

Sometimes to make a Heroic Sacrifice, a hero doesn't need to die. Sometimes they must sacrifice something else...their good name, reputation, and integrity.

might involve falsely confessing to a crime they didn't commit or being an enormous jerkass contrary to their true nature

they will be hated, hunted and/or disgraced for all time

another trope post from tvtropes dot com (articles linked) because i am procrastinating on my nano wip

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #41

Danny wonders if his life would be different. If when the portal went off, if he hadn't died. If he had lived through it. Hell, he'd have taken some weird situation where he became some sort of half ghost half human. But instead he was dead. And alone.

He floats through the world. Aimless. Without a purpose.

Someone spots him and decides to help the poor kid.

[finemeal]

DC Prompt #1

Inspired by this Tumblr post:

Jason Todd may have died but he sticks around his loved one’s until he returns. Not that they notice him. It’s exhausting following the bats and watching them destroy themselves over his death. He wishes they would move on so that he can too.

Then, all of a sudden Jason’s back. Not quite fully, his spirit is still roaming around. Or, it does until Talia drags him to the Pits and before he knows it he’s back in Gotham years later under the Red Hood moniker. He remembers the year he was dead, he witnessed Bruce lose it, Dick almost kill the Joker, Alfred almost quitting, and Tim doing his best to keep it all together.

He remembers, but he doesn’t tell the family. He doesn’t want to admit to how every second he was watching them he was in agony. He was feeling his body rot as he was forced to watch over his family. How his soul ached when he couldn’t do anything. How he felt he was slowly being driven mad by how lonely he was.

Then, one day, he makes a comment about something that they never told him about. His family begins to think he wasn’t telling the while truth about his death and subsequent resurrection.

[sneverussape]

not with a bang, but with a whimper.

—

snapetober 2022 - reconciliation

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #787

Boxy and Joker were ex comedians that worked together and bantered on open mic nights.

[oh-hell-help-me]

Day 6: Spine

By the time Luigi was able to leave the castle again, the town square seemed to have changed entirely.

The square was its usual mix of people, of course: Koopas, Shy Guys, Goombas, Spinies, and other miscellaneous species that -before- he only saw as soldiers. He now knew better, but their presence wasn't the problem.

Mostly, it was in the way he is almost always stared at, regardless of whether or not they were friendly. To him, there seemed to be a sea of eyes that pinned him against the cobblestone. In reality, he's sure they are simply glancing at him, but...

His guards have also become fussy now, especially as two more were added to the group (Ashton and Flambo, a Lakitu and a Hammer Bro) to make his visit hard to ignore.

It made his skin itch.

He wanted to sit by the water fountain, but -looking at the crowd of people enjoying the area and knowing how twitchy the guards would be- he settled for the next best thing:

A stone bench set under a roof overhang.

Even though Luigi had been able to settle down, he couldn't quite let himself relax...

He doesn't need to look at the notebook tightly clutched against his chest to figure out why. Not when he knew that the information inside was something that might make or break the Koopa Kingdom’s economy -maybe even their faith in Bowser, after….

After.

Still, the staring was minimal as the gawkers seemed to be just as quick to look away.

It was enough to let himself relax against the smooth bench, the guards forming a loose perimeter around where he sat.

It felt… peaceful despite the crowd. The bubble of protection and the surprisingly comfy stone made it easy to let the white noise immerse him, let him close his eyes and bask a bit in the noon time sun.

It felt like a nice day for a nap…

Hacktor was an old Koopa, old enough to have watched his children have children, and then for his grandchildren to finally leave the nest of their own parents.

It also meant that he knew his grandchildren well, especially in a family of miners.

Hackson, who has carried the Hack-name with pride, was a Koopa of action -driven by emotions, mostly, but a good lad. He was the Koopa who listened to people’s problems, maybe lend a hand or even direct them to someone who can.

And then he nearly murdered someone.

An IMPORTANT someone.

It was bad enough of a scene to drive an angry mob to track him, and it was only a blessing that none of Hackson's immediate family members were there to witness it (or, stars forbid, intervene).

He wouldn’t say it was as much of a blessing to come home to an inconsolable daughter and second son-in-law who have heard the news of his painful death.

No parent should be outliving their children. None.

Privately, he thinks they are still in disbelief over the fact he tried to kill someone twice.

They were still in mourning when Hackson felt the need to visit the town square, hoping to get ingredients for a soup that would hopefully keep them fed (since they weren’t in any condition to cook).

It was high noon when he saw him: the green human.

Well, maybe not so green at the moment. Instead, the man was wearing a black assemble that seemed out of place among the colorful array of people that happily wandered the square.

It wouldn’t be out of place from a funeral….

It’s what made him stop in his tracks, basket clenched in one paw as he looked closer at the human.

He was asleep, thankfully unaware of his presence, but his outfit wasn’t the only unusual thing about him.

There was a black notebook loosely held in his lap, stamped with the Royal Seal and holding a blue shimmer around the cover. Enchanted, probably, and likely important for political reasons.

There wasn’t a sign of bandages around his torso, so either they were under his clothes, or there was magic involved. Considering how the human nearly bled to death… well, Hacktor can see the necessity.

There was a group of four guards around him this time, visibly casting worried looks at their charge, looking around all steely at anyone close to their perimeter, and back again whenever the man shifted.

He would say that, out of everything, the guards' behavior was the most unsettling- not because of their worry, but how they seem to expect trouble. Almost like paranoia, except they clearly valued their charge more than their own safety...

He wonders if the king had something to do with it.

Hacktor couldn't say what exactly had driven him to approach, but the way three of the guards instantly grouped in front of the human almost made him second-guess that urge.

"Halt!" The Hammer Bro seems to be the leader, or at least the most aggressive of the four Koopas. "State your business!"

"I wish to talk with the human."

The soldiers clearly didn't like the request, but the Troopa that lingered behind reached over and -gently- shook the sleeping human's shoulder.

"W-wha--? Dagby, is it time to-" He catches sight of Hacktor, stiffening in his seat as the notebook was pushed into his chest.

"He wants to talk to you, Luigi."

The human -Luigi- looked nervous, and Hacktor almost expected him to decline-

"Okay."

Before throwing his and the soldier's expectations out the window.

"A-are you sure?" Hacktor didn't see which one asked him, but a nod from the human had them part for the elderly Koopa anyway.

Now that he's here, standing in front of the human... Hacktor wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Um," Luigi scoots to the side of the bench, patting the other side awkwardly. "You can sit -only if you want, of course!"

He seems to be just as clueless.

Still, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, and Hacktor's knees aren't what they used to be, so he takes the seat with a "Thank you".

However- "Aren't you afraid of having a stranger walk up to you?"

"Not really?" The human's blue eyes shone trust brighter than a mining lamp, and it takes every fiber of Hacktor's being to not have his jaw drop at the answer.

It's even harder to speak, but now that he's here-

"I want to know how he died. My grandson, that is."

Hacktor stiffened in his seat as the soldiers seem to whip around, suddenly fingering their given weapons, and Luigi-

"H-hold on!" He's gesturing at the soldiers, stopping them from getting closer. "Just- hold on! I-" He mostly seems to hold eye-contact with the soldiers, leaving himself open to the elderly Koopa as if-

"I don't think he's here to- to-" His hands tremble though, enough for the 'Dagby' fellow to step forward in concern.

Still, Luigi audibly takes a calming breath, letting his hands fall back into his lap. "Just- let me hear him out?"

Again, the Koopas present (him included) are sent into a stunned standstill that lasts for just over a minute. It's only when the Hammer Bro steps back that the rest follow suit.

"Th-thank you..."

Looking back at him, Hacktor could help but see the way emotions flashed across the human's face -sadness, horror, guilt- but not see a trace of fear even as the soldiers give them space.

...He’s got a spine, this human.

[panda-of-the-trash]

hopelessly devoted Crossmare in 😬👗

"Are we really going out like this?"

"Not but it was worth it just to see you in a short skirt."