#fic snippets

[sy-on-boy]

Damian's not nervous about who will win the right to dance with him. He doesn't care. Obviously.

Except Anya Forger is now lagging behind in the trivia quiz. She rattled off her first few answers with ease (genuinely surprising, how would she know about the milk and his dog? He can't imagine Ewen or Emile would tell her), but now she's struggling and giving out ridiculous answers. Who on earth is Benjerpoop Peeface GooFallo? Is Anya really that stupid? And why is he getting anxious about Anya not winning??

Someone has four points. One more point and this random girl will be dancing with Damian. Damian gulps nervously. Anya only has three points. The next question will determine his fate, and he doesn't trust Anya will know the answers to these highly specific questions—

Wait.

Highly specific question.

Damian can ask a question that only Anya knows the answer of.

Damian is so frazzled that he barely questions why Anya is the only one he wants to dance with. Or the integrity of him helping Anya win. All he wants is to the stop the imminent danger of someone snatching Anya's (rightful?) spot.

Damian raises his hand. "Ewen, can I ask a question to the ladies?"

Ewen looks a bit surprised by how the reluctant Damian is suddenly involving himself. "Sure thing, bossman! It's your dance partner after all. Come up!"

And now Damian's faced with the intense scrutiny of the five girls. Anya's stare seems particularly piercing, but she always has that effect on people. It's almost like she can read minds.

Anya suddenly jolts and looks away like she's nervous. Huh. Right, she's probably nervous because that other girl is one point away. Damian has to think of a highly specific question that the other girl will never know the answer to, and a question that only Anya can answer. It shouldn't be that hard considering they're in the same class and they did a lot of stuff together... Damian blushes at the thought of their extensive history.

But wait! Focus! This isn't time to blush. Except he's not blushing. Totally not.

Damian clears his throat. Everyone is looking at him. They're at question 13— an unlucky number, and coincidentally the number pinned on Anya's dress, so maybe it's a lucky number after all?

"Question 13: name one food in my ration can during the bus hijacking!"

There's a ripple of surprise when Damian mentions the bus hijacking. The other four girls look nervous. That's right, Damian knows Becky and Anya have suitors who admire their bravery during the hijacking, but no one seems to have mentioned that to Damian so far... and that scratches an uncomfortable scar in his heart. Hey, Damian was also involved in saving the class. Why didn't anyone admire his bravery, then?

See, this is a strategic question. None of the other girls seem to care about the hijacking, but Anya was right next to him on the bus. Her best friend's company provided the rations. Moreover, this is about food, and Damian knows how Anya invested is when it concerns food. She'll know the answer. He knows she knows.

In addition, Damian thinks he made the question quite open ended. She only has to name one food. Damian tries to recall them in his head: beef jerky, mints, digestives, hmm, what else...

"Salted nuts," Anya says.

A hush falls over the crowd. Everyone's looking at her, but she's looking at him. Damian's heart does an odd little thump.

"... I remember that because Sy-on boy gave the nuts to me."

Damian wasn't even thinking about that connection. Honestly, he had been so stressed that he could barely remember giving Anya her favourite nuts. Well, more power to Anya.

"That is correct," he says, and he can hear Becky cheer from the sidelines. Suddenly flustered and overwhelmed by how Anya remembers that little detail, Damian steps away and lets Ewen continue with the quiz.

Anya is up to four points, and she's tied with the other girl. That thought makes Damian nauseous. Anya only needs one more point, and they absolutely cannot let the other girl win—

Ewen begins what could be the last question. "Question 14: Which person does Damian love best?"

Damian instantly whips his head towards Ewen, his face beet red. "HUH?!" he screeches. He was already feeling fluttery and jittery from earlier, and now Ewen has to do this? Does his best friend want him to die, huh?!

At least it seems like everyone else is equally flustered. They yell out wrong answers, and Damian feels a rush of relief upon seeing the other girl with four points get it wrong. But wait, she isn't the only one with four points—

Anya presses her button. Her eyes are wide, as clear and as beautiful as glass, shooting a devastating arrow into Damian's resolve.

And before she says a word, Damian knows she knows. From her expression, he can tell she has the correct answer. Because of course she knows him the best out of these girls. Anya Forger, the commoner who stole him away.

He knows exactly what she'll say, and he's almost terrified by how she pinpointed that, but at the same time endlessly relieved that she knows such an important part of him. They're just kids who want their fathers to love them, aren't they? She understands him. She sees through him.

... Ah, why does it feel like Anya can see through all of him except for his heart?

Anya opens her mouth.

"Sy-on boy loves..."

"You," Damian thinks, his inner voice suddenly astronomically soft. "You win."

[petit-etoile]

snippet

‘It’s nice,’ he says softly. ‘I can taste your blood beneath your skin from your swooning.’ ‘I’m not swooning,’ you protest weakly. ‘Oh, you aren’t?’ Astarion teases. He licks your pulse. ‘What a wicked lie. If I were to let go, would you fall or stand on your own? Let’s find out.’ Astarion releases you and your knees buckle out from under you. Something akin to mortification floods through your body, but when Astarion laughs at the sight of you kneeling in the river bed, it doesn’t sound mean. He knees down with you and taps the tip of your nose.

everyone say thanks @queenofthespacesquids

[pastelxfilth]

“Mommy wants to give you a special surprise.”

You watch as your Mommy drags one of her fingers through her drenched slit, slick wetness glistening on her puffy labia. She hovers over you, knees on either side of your hips, giving you the perfect view to observe her hand working between her legs. Her fingers come to rest just beneath her clit, rubbing lightly.

“Mommy really needs to use the bathroom, Princess,” she breathes, her voice sounding a little strained.

Understanding dawns slowly on your face. Your mouth parts slightly in surprise as a barely audible gasp escapes, your racing thoughts frantically working through her words.

“You’re Mommy’s special Princess, my pretty girl." A sinful smile appears on her lips. She bends forward, her next words tickling your ear.

"Mommy wants to pee on you.”

God.

Her words threaten to disintegrate you on the spot. You can't recall how often you had fantasized about just that.

"Please, Mommy,” you rasp.

“Tell me where you want it,” your Mommy urges, sitting back up, the struggle to hold back evident in her tone.

Bending one leg and letting it fall to the side, you present your Mommy with your throbbing cunt.

Your Mommy bites her lip. “You want Mommy to pee on your princess parts?”

You shake with nerves. "Y-yes."

Your Mommy's voice quivers. “Show me where exactly.”

You draw your labia apart, exposing more of your sex, and pull the hood of your clit back. “Please pee on my clit, Mommy."

“Oh, baby,” your Mommy grunts, a cramp rocking through her. She alignes herself with your cunt. “Keep holding yourself open. Mommy’s really full and needs to let go soon.”

You do just that, waiting with bated breath.

Your Mommy's eyes lose focus and then the first trickle spills out of her. It lands on your thigh. A tiny burst follows quickly, drowning your pussy. It developes into a stronger current, the lightly colored stream gaining in strength.

“This feels so good," your Mommy moans. "There it is, baby. Mommy is peeing for you, honey.”

You whimper. The warm flow pelts against your clit.

“Touch yourself, Princess.”

With shaking fingers, you reach for your sex, trailing your fingers through your overflowing slit. Rubbing your sensitive pearl, your hips jerk involuntarily. Your Mommy's pee douses your working fingers, drenching them in the yellowy fluid.

You stroke your hard clit vigorously. Being as pent up as you are, it won't take long for you to climax.

“Does Mommy’s pee feel good on your little button?”

Fuck. Your Mommy's dirty mouth drives you wild. “Feels so nice, Mommy!"

“Are you going to cum?”

“I’m so close,” you pant, your heavy breathing making it difficult to get enough air into your lungs. You can feel the urine running down your butt and flooding the comforter. You rub your clit faster.

“My slutty girl. Cumming while Mommy’s soaking her pretty pussy in her pee.”

That does it.

Your spine bends, and then you sob, your orgasm tearing through you. Spasming violently, your hips shoot off the bed, knocking into your Mommy. You palm your breast, pinching the nipple, your other hand still between your legs, riding out your release.

Pee trickles over your stomach, and then your Mommy's flow tapers off.

You collapse, tugging needily on your Mommy's arms. Your Mommy lets herself be pulled forward, lying on top of you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  ♡   

               you can read the actual story here ˚✧.

               

[gretahayes]

"I think," Tim says, "that this is wholly unnecessary."

"Tough," Dick says flatly. "You came here, you know that?" Tim pushes his plate of eggs and toast away subtly and Dick unsubtly pushes it back at him. "Least I can do is feed you." If this can even count as feeding the kid. In Dick’s defense, the kid showed up at seven in the morning on an empty stomach, and Dick wasn’t going to leave him hungry.

"I'm just saying, I would’ve been fine with like, yogurt or some fruit," Tim says, but takes the hint and eats a bite of toast. He pauses, as if realizing, wait, he is hungry after all, and shovels egg into his mouth. He chews and swallows. "Woah," he says. "This is good."

"It's eggs and toast," Dick says. He didn't have any of the sugary stuff kids like, because he didn't shop with Tim in mind but maybe he should start doing so, if the kid’s going to keep showing up. And it's probably better than whatever he’s been making for himself in that house of his, because if the kid could cook semi-decent, he wouldn't be showing up hungry so often.

"Still good," Tim says stubbornly. He gulps down his orange juice and reaches for Dick’s pantry, digging out some bagels. Growing boys and their hunger. He tears off a bite of one with his teeth, just like that, "Batman's been doing better lately."

It’s always about Batman with this kid. Batman or Robin or both, and sometimes Nightwing or the Titans, if he's feeling generous. Dick, for once, would like to talk about something else. Like Tim’s school, the friends he doubtlessly has. Tim’s parents. Tim’s hobbies that don’t include interfering and stalking. "That’s good," Dick says.

"Mhm," Tim says. "Says he'll start training me soon too." He swallows a bagel—did he even chew?—and starts on another one. Maybe the kid shows up hungry because he’s expecting to be fed, and Dick never fails to do so.

That’s what he's getting at. Like Dick said—always about Batman and Robin with this kid. Dick makes a non-committal noise and drops Tim’s plate into the sink. "Good for you."

"So I was thinking," Tim hedges. Dick swipes the bagel he's eating, splits it, spreads some cream cheese on one side, and tosses it back at him. Tim fumbles, almost drops the bag and bagel, but catches it and takes a bite. Reflexes could definitely use some work. Not that Dick’s volunteering, just noting. "Oh, this is better."

"Have you been eating bagels plain your whole life?" Dick does the same on the other bagel half and tosses it to him—he catches it this time—and slides over the cream cheese and knife.

Tim says, mouth full, "thought it was something only old people could enjoy, like my dad."

Speaking of Tim’s parents, "your vacation week got extended, right?"

"Yeah," Tim says, swallowing. "It’s two now. They don’t know cause the school's bad at sending emails about that kind of stuff, and usually I'd mention it to them, but it's more convenient this way, isn't it?"

Little sneak. He'll make a good Robin once he gets out there, finally. Eventually. "Definitely."

[mari-lair]

snippet of a wip

[quotidian-oblivion]

Want to share an excerpt from one of my wips for no reason Pt 3:

"I thought of you as a friend. Trusted you more than I have anyone else in my life!"  His vision blurred with tears and Arthur hurried to rub his eyes to get rid of them.  "It is only those years that are holding me back from killing you right this instant. I'm risking everything, everything my father built, everything my kingdom stands on, all the laws, all the people, just for you."  He swiped at his eyes again.  "So take it. Take the chance and go. Leave. Stay in Ealdor, I won't send anyone after you. Don't come back."  Merlin was shaking now, his eyes shining before they released more tears.  "I can't," he said again. His voice was quiet, but fearful determination was infused in every word. "I can't leave you."

[drabblesandimagines]

Snippets

So, I have a fair few half-finished Clive Rosfield x female reader fics that I thought I'd share some snippets of. The brainrot is back after playing the DLC, so let's put a vote up to see if there's a certain one people are keen to see finished... (and give me the motivation/fear to finish it/them all?)

---- Winter Mead Your head is pounding as you come round, blinking in the harsh sunlight through the small window. You’re fully dressed and seem to be at the wrong end of your bed – your boots resting on your pillow.

What had you done last night? You blink up at the ceiling a few times, slowly becoming more conscious and aware of how dry your mouth is. Water. You need water.

Cautiously, you slide to sit up, putting one foot down on the ground to hear a soft yelp and you jump back, staring at disbelief as you realise Gav is on your floor.

“I’m up,” he grumbles into the boards. “You don’t have to step on me, like.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I imagine I passed out after that,” he gestures to the quarter-drank Winter Mead on the side. It was potent, all right.

“Oh, Founder…” You rubbed your temples. There’s a pitcher of water on your desk and a goblet, thankfully. You get up from bed again, careful not to step on Gav, and take the two short steps over, pouring yourself a drink. As the lukewarm water quenches your thirst, you realise the paper all over your desk has half written letters all over them.

Clive,

Please can you kiss me? I promise I don’t bite.

Love, your admirer.

PS: Well, I don’t unless you want me to.

Gav gets to his feet besides you, “Can I have some of that?” When you don't reply, goblet still held up at your lips, his eyes follow your gaze to the discarded letters on the desk. “Fuck me.” “We didn’t. I didn’t.”

----- Lemon Tarts

“Come on now, I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – after all, he’s introduced himself several times now – says, softly. He’s crouched down in front of the crevice you’ve squeezed yourself in, huddling your knees. He’s broader than you and his shoulders won’t permit him entry, despite his best efforts.

Your master was harsh in his demands. Sometimes it felt that breathing the wrong way was worthy of a lash from his whip, so however many years ago you’d decided it was better off not talking back and then, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he cared for your opinion either way. Couldn’t get whipped for saying the wrong thing at least.

Then these people had shown up, announcing they were Cursebreakers – whatever they were - that they were here to take you and your fellow three Bearers somewhere safe, bundling you up in a cart and then onto a boat and up a dock, being told you’re going to  escorted to their infirmary to be checked over and it was too much.

You’d ran, ducking from outstretched arms trying to halt you. Being in the middle of a lake, you couldn’t really go anywhere and now as you’d ran, you knew you were going to make whatever punishment awaiting you far worse – at least with your master you knew what to expect, what to brace for…

You’d sequestered yourself in a narrow gap, out of reach.  Numerous people were trying to coerce you out but you ignore them, cuddling your knees in fright.

“You can’t stay in there forever. That’s not a threat, like! I mean, it’s not practical, and not when we’ve a warm bed waiting for you, eh?”

Warm bed…? It’s a trick. Don’t be an idiot.

“Gav, what’s going on?” A gravelly voice draws his attention elsewhere and he ducks back from the opening to talk to someone behind.

You’re trapped, you know you are, and they’ll drag you out of here one way or another eventually but you’re too terrified to move.

“Hello.” The same gravelly voice from before sounds cautious now. You look between your knees to see another broad-shouldered man with shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black armour, crouched down on a knee to peer into your hiding spot. “My name’s Clive. What’s yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder and Clive turns to face him. “Or ever. That’s what the other Bearers said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, though. Not sure how long she’s been there – they didn’t know her name either.”

“That’s all right,” Clive turns back, smiling as he catches sight of you peeking at him between your knees. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We just want to help – I promise.”

He waits, patiently, for a response that you won’t give.

“Please?” He presses on, tenderly. “We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you, and I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Plus Molly, our cook, made some exquisite lemon tarts for afterwards. You can have mine too, if you like.”

---

Trust

“Bearer ran off – she looked terrified. We tried to stop her but I think we frightened her more than anything,” Cole sighed, cursing himself internally. “Her hands were bound too - I’m worried about her being out there alone. If Imperials or a fiend were to find her…”

“Which way did she go?”

“Into the thicket. I was going to go and look for her after we’d got the Bearers to the skiff.”

“You go." Clive folds his arms, forming a plan. "I’ll go look for her. Torgal will help me – won’t you, boy? He has a fine nose.”

Torgal barks, wagging his tail.

--

Your heart is still pounding from the climb where there is bark from below. Between your dangling legs, you see a giant wolf looking up at you.

“Good boy, Torgal.” The dark-haired man rubs the wolf’s head affectionately – is he going to allow him to maul you as a reward? You try and scramble further up the tree but it’s no use, the way your hands are bound prevents you from getting a grip and progressing further.  

“Please, be careful. I do not wish for you to fall, my lady.” The stranger pleads, holding his hands up in surrender.

The concerned tone in his voice would’ve been a clever trick if it wasn’t for the hulking blade strapped to his back, the leathers he’s dressed in, the wolf sat at his heels, panting with hunger.

“Allow me to introduce myself - my name is Clive.” You wish you could scoot back more, hide yourself from his view, but there’s only so much room. “My lady, I know you are frightened, but I swear I’m not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact - I want to help you. We want to help you. The Bearers you were with, they are safe with my allies back at what we call the Hideaway.”

Hideaway? A cosy name for a prison.

“You’ll be looked after there, your ills seen to. A warm bed, a hot meal every night...”

There’s no such place in this world that would treat a Branded like that. Does he think you’re stupid?

“I would rid myself of this blade if it were to reassure you, but we are in dangerous territory – fiends and Imperial soldiers – so I require it to defend myself, and you, my lady."

-----

The vote will be up for a week, but please let me know what you think in the comments too!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[hermitdrabbles56]

I can't find the quote that inspired this fic but basically it's about why Twilight is careful how and when he shows his anger. It's been sitting in my drabbles box for months and hhhh just take it.

Aren't You Angry

"What's going on?"  Time's worried voice draws everyone's attention briefly away from the scene in front of them, but is quickly forgotten.  "Sir…she got knocked into me, all I was trying to do was keep her from falling.." Twilight's voice comes out calm and even toned despite the small mob that was starting to form around him. Legend at his side and looking just about ready to kill someone, but Twilights hand spread open against his chest is keeping him in place for now.  "Yeah right we know what your kind is like! Ruffians looking to take anything they want, outsiders like you swoop in and steal our goods, go after our women and ravage our homes before taking off!" The villager in front of Twilight is about two heads shorter but has puffed himself up. Hissing and spitting his words like a feral cat. "Don't think we haven't seen how you've been slinking around!"  "All that I'm guilty of, is looking for a good book and hoping to find some arrows for sale…I'm just a passing traveler.."  "A look like that and we all can tell you're nothing more than bandit scum." An old woman spits.  "Why you-" Legend shifts to go for her and Twilight catches him again. "He's been out there fighting monsters to keep you assholes safe!"  "Legend don't…"  "No! Fuck this bullshit!"  "What you want us to believe, a freak of nature like this is here to help!" Another man shouts.  Suddenly comments begin to flood the area.  "Marks of the devil!" "The look of a theif"  "Shifty attitude!"  Twilight pulls Legend closer and closer as he carefully tries to back away from the crowd. The anger of the villagers boiling up quickly before everyone's eyes and reaching a fast snapping point, as a stone comes flying out of nowhere and clocks Twilight in the side of the head. Grimacing in pain he curls around Legend a bit to make sure he won't get hit, but it also puts him in range as a woman grabs him by the ear and yanks him to the side, nearly throwing him off balance.  "Look at this he's even filed his teeth into that of a beast!"  "He's a danger!"  "Get out of our village!!"  "Enough!!"  A crack of deafening thunder splits through the sky. Stopping the riot before it can go further.  "You are speaking to a hero of the realm! And if you say one more word you'll be answering to me!"  The crowd parts to where Hyrule stands on the opposite end. Lighting crackling at his fingertips and the edges of his eyes. Sky not too far behind him looking just as pissed, but letting the traveler take the lead. Stalking forward through the crowd Hyrule and the chosen hero beeline straight for Twilight. The largest of them having curled in on himself to make himself smaller. Hand held to his head to try and staunch the bleeding that the rock had started, while also covering the ear that had been yanked on. Legend having finally gotten out of his grasp and protecting his other side.  "You're okay..I'll fix you up right away…." Hyrule whispers as he looks the cut over, careful not to touch because of the lightning still zipping between his fingers.  "I'll be fine..I'm sorry.."  "Don't you dare start with that…come..let's just get you back to the inn.." Hyrule murmurs carefully.  With a quick shake of his head Twilight straightens a slight bit. "Im…gonna find a place in the woods, I won't cause more trouble by staying.."  "We'll all…find a place in the woods." Time states as he finally makes his way over. His one eyed glare passing over every one of the stunned villagers.  "Has everyone gotten what they need..?" Sky asks firmly as he looks around at their brothers who are now circling Twilight. Pleased to get a chorus of nods.  "Then let's get back to Epona and get out of here.." Hyrule states carefully as anger continues to boil in his tone.

°•○•° "You don't have to use your magic, I'll be just fine." Twilight says with that soft kind smile of his.  Hyrule though is having none of it. Palm glowing a gentle gold as he hovers his hand over the cut until it's gone, even giving a light pass over the ear that had been tugged. Then promptly runs his fingers gingerly through Twilight's hair, glad when the wolf hero carefully leans into his touch.  

-

[jackwolfes]

happy six several sentence sunday from the next chapter of "jesper fahey's guide to high society and falling in love" 😇🌹

Jesper chuckles, enjoying teasing him. “Which of the lords has caught your eye, then?” 

He sees Wylan’s cheeks pink. “None in particular. And it’s still early in the season. It doesn’t do to rush matters.”

“Certainly not,” Jesper mutters. Then, ducking his head so he’s closer, Jesper adds, “Although if you’re looking for something slow, I hear Lord Helvar is still single.” 

To his enduring surprise, Wylan doesn’t have something sharp to retort. Jesper turns to look at him fully and sees him staring ahead at Matthias’ back. His cheeks are pink. So are the very tips of his ears. 

Jesper bursts into laughter. “Oh, Saints, really? Matthias?” 

Wylan whips his head up to glare at Jesper. “Keep your voice down!” he hisses under his breath. He presses a hand to his flaming cheek. “I am well aware that that won’t work out, for obvious reasons. And my father would never allow me to marry a baron.”

Jesper scoffs. “But you still think that Matthias is a hot piece of—”

“Shh!”

[panbaric]

me! i want a fic snippet! me!

Lando asks him about it, only a few weeks after he joins McLaren. Gangly and spotty and doomed by his youth to be a romantic. They’re eating lunch one day at the MTC and Carlos is just about to take a bite out of the apple that Rupert insisted he grab, when Lando leans in, eyes wide and a head full of dreams.

“Rumour has it that there are a pair of soulmates on the grid,” Lando says, “Suppose there’s any truth to it?”

Carlos snorts, that kind of rumour has plagued the paddock long before he first stepped into a Toro Rosso, and likely will persist long after his last lap. It fits–after all racing is such an all-consuming concept, plaguing all of their lives from their earliest memories. But there hasn’t been a soulmate pair on the grid since Lewis and Nico, and even then their bond had only snapped in 2016. For the best, really. Lord knows what Toto would have done otherwise. They were lucky that there had only ever been one incident. 

(Dark thunder hanging low over Barcelona encroaches on the corners of his memory as he tamps down the long-buried bolt of fear that threatens to lance up his spine.)

“No,” he says, around a mouthful of apple, the taste of it sharper than expected on his tongue. “Only a few drivers on the grid are even known to have potential and well,” Carlos shrugs. Seb had revealed the truth about him and his wife after the incident, a PR move that likely had saved Lewis’s career, and Max–well, the less said about Max, the better. 

Lando grins, “Must be glad you don’t have any potential.”

Carlos feels his brow furrow and his shoulders tighten without command.

“Read it in the McLaren debrief. I don’t either but the other two rookies–Alex and George–they have it, and sometimes it’s all they bang on about despite not even being in a bond. Alex says there’s a couple of others–"

“Lando,” Carlos interrupts, setting the apple down on the table. “It is best we do not talk about these things, ay? These are our colleagues.” Carlos frankly could have gone the rest of his life without knowing that the next Mercedes big thing and the surprise youngster in a Toro Rosso have marks of divinity in their blood, just waiting to be tapped into. 

Land holds his hands out, “Mate I wasn’t trying to gossip I swear, it’s not a big deal now anyway–just potential. I mean, like twenty-five percent of the population have it or something, it’s so common.” Lando drags out the vowels in a way that makes Carlos’ mouth twitch. 

Carlos takes a breath, then changes the subject.

[wingdingery]

for @anawrites3, the deleted intro from once upon a time (BruDick Cinderella AU ft. Slade as the fairy godmother)

__________

It’s not just that he can’t buy the dress.

Dick’s resourceful, and he has friends—he’s sure he could convince someone to help buy it for him, if he really wanted. So he can’t use that as an excuse for why he’s just standing there, staring at the dress instead of making a plan to purchase it.

The real issue is what he wants the dress for.

A carriage clatters down the street, and he jumps and hurries away from the dressmaker’s window before anyone notices him, only to slam face-first into someone solid enough to send him sprawling backward. Hands grab him and pull him up, and he finds himself face-to-face with the king of Defiance.

Slade raises an eyebrow, looking between Dick and the dress in the window, and Dick fights back his flush as he yanks himself out of Slade’s grip and marches off.

Slade catches up with him easily. “Not very polite of you.”

“Like you’ve ever been polite,” Dick says without stopping. “What are you doing here?”

“What is everyone else doing here?”

It’s a fair response—it’s only a few days before The Ball, after all.

That’s how Dick’s thought of it, since he first heard of it. The Ball. The one where King Bruce—thirty and five, this year—will finally choose someone to rule by his side.

Invitations were sent to nobility and royalty far and wide—within Gotham, to Kandor and Themyscira, even to Defiance and Nanda Parbat. In some ways, it’s more of a political event than anything else, bringing in powerful people from far and wide to make connections and strike agreements. One will make the most powerful connection of all.

Dick doesn’t need a crystal ball to know that it won’t possibly ever be him.

It doesn’t mean he can’t dream about it, though; doesn’t mean he can’t let his eyes catch on a shimmering flash of blue and look at it and think, what if.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Dick says. “It’s not as though it’s a tournament.”

“You think I would turn down the opportunity to become King Consort of Gotham?”

Dick gives him an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

He first encountered Slade three years ago on the battlefield, trying to finish the war his son started. It ended in a truce after his second son died. Dick thought, then, that Slade was more interested in having his son back than in power, and it seemed he was right—Defiance had been a quiet neighbor ever since.

Slade smirks slightly. “My daughter was interested in the ball. I was interested in what had become of you. But it seems you have your eyes on someone else.”

Dick scowls. “Shut up.”

“I could have your tongue for that,” Slade says idly.

“Not in Gotham, you can’t.”

“Perhaps not.” Slade’s eye flashes. “Are you intending the ball as a candidate?”

“You know I can’t.”

“But you want to.”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“And if I could make it happen?”

Dick’s steps stutter, and he looks sidelong at Slade, who seems serious. It’s… worth considering, honestly. Slade has access to money, and magic. He could get Dick into the ball as part of Defiance’s entourage. He could give Dick everything he needs to pull this off.

But he won’t do it for free.

“What would you ask in return?” Dick says.

Slade smiles. “I’ll do everything in my power to give you every advantage you’d like,” he says. “But if at the end of this, you still aren’t the future consort of Gotham—you’ll become the future consort of Defiance instead.”

[sy-on-boy]

"Anya, are you... feeling okay?"

Anya stared at Becky with with big, blank, buggy eyes. "I don't understand," she said in a monotone.

Becky squinted at Anya. Anya was usually weird, but Becky knew her well enough to discern Anya's different types of weirdness. "Are you trying to be like Damian's creepy older brother?"

Ewen and Emile heard and quickly turned around to defend their best friend's brother. "Oy, don't insult Demetrius!" "He's not creepy, he's a genius! His mind operates at levels we cannot understand!"

"You guys are talking about my brother?" Damian's voice came. "What's all this fuss?"

Becky sighed, then deadpanned, "I think Anya's trying to be like your brother. For some reason."

Damian jumped and instantly scowled. Anya continued to silently stare at Damian with her buggy eyes. Damian backed away, weirded out (and oddly jealous) by Anya imitating his own brother. "Ugh, what's wrong with you, Forger?" he spluttered out, cheeks turning pink.

Upon seeing Damian's distaste, Anya blinked, dropped the act, and looked normal again. "Super Sy-on boy is a genius so I'm going to be like him until I become a genius. I wanna get stella stars like Super Sy-on boy."

"But Bossman also has stella stars," Ewen said innocently.

"But Super Sy-on boy has more stella stars," Anya interjected just as innocently. Damian's face instantly darkened.

Becky noticed and nudged Anya. "You didn't have to rub it in his face!" she hissed to Anya.

"Rub what in Sy-on boy's face?" Anya might not understand the saying, but now she knew she shouldn't had compared Damian with Demetrius even if it was unintentional. Anya gulped and nervously glanced at Damian, who was looking solemn and suddenly older than he was.

"Of course my brother is always better at everything. Even an idiot like her can see it. I don't like how she's imitating Demetrius (hah, a commoner like her would never come close to us Desmonds) but I see her point. Maybe I should be more like Demetrius too..."

Anya blinked. Becky's earlier words of "rub it in his face" came back to her. Face, face... Sy-on boy's face? In her mind, she superimposed Demetrius' buggy eyes and slicked back hair on top of Damian's. Hmph, a bit off-putting, but this was actually fine because Damian still looked stupid and snot-faced as he always did.

But then Anya imagined Demetrius' complete lack of expression on Damian— no more taunts, no more temper tantrums, no more of his silly red faces, but also no more smiles, no more tears, no more of that unadulterated fear she saw during the bus hyjacking, no more of that determined face of his when he shielded her from the dodgeball, no more of Damian being his annoying, crybaby, sometimes heroic self. A Damian with barely any thoughts. A Damian who didn't understand people and didn't bother with anything at all. No more Sy-on boy being Sy-on boy.

... And Anya didn't think she liked that.

"You don't have to be like Super Sy-on boy," Anya blurted out. She felt bad for making Damian feel down earlier, because she was supposed to be friends with him, and friends didn't make each other feel bad.

Damian looked at her, bewildered and somewhat taken aback. "Huh??"

What Anya thought was "your mom is weird and your brother is weird and your dad is an evil super boss. You're a jerk sometimes but you're not weird like they are, and I feel bad for you", but obviously she couldn't say that, so she simply said, "Sy-on boy is Sy-on boy. You're not Super Sy-on boy and you don't have to be like him (because I need to read your mind for the mission)."

Damian blinked, his heart warmed by Anya's unexpected sincerity. Anya wanted him to be himself? And not like his brother? She... didn't expect that from him?

Becky, intuitive as always, chimed in. "Damian, you're a bit of a brat, but don't turn into a creep like your brother."

Damian scowled. "My brother's not a creep!!"

"I'm just making a honest statement! It's for your own good!"

Anya stepped aside to let Becky and Damian bicker. Her eyes flitted over to Damian— Damian without those buggy eyes, Damian with long eyelashes, Damian with anger and scowls, Damian with thoughts and feelings and fears and likes and affection.

Then she thought of Damian's mother and brother with the odd, mysterious, and almost chilling darkness in their heads. In some way, Demetrius' apathy was easier to stomach than Melinda's tornado of chaotic and contradictory thoughts, but both of them threw her off. Damian, despite being Damian, despite being the son of the evil boss, was still... relatively normal. He smiled. He loved his dog. He was protective of his friends. He wanted stella stars. He threw temper tantrums. He wanted his family to love him. (He was scared of being abandoned.) Despite everything, Damian was still like Anya.

... Yeah. Anya hoped Sy-on boy would stay Sy-on boy for as long as he could.

[scarlet-heels]

Miranda lay beneath Andrea, her arms wound around the brunette’s neck where she lay atop her, positively basking in the delight of naked skin against naked skin. Andrea dipped her head and ran a hot wet tongue up the column of Miranda’s throat, her hands winding into the editor’s hair to hold her still.

“Tell me…” Miranda panted breathlessly, her lower belly clenching in anticipation. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

Andrea raised her head and looked down at her intently, a smirk skirting round the corners of her generous mouth.

“I want to taste you…” she whispered, then dipped her head to utter into Miranda’s ear. “…everywhere.”

[pastelxfilth]

"I really need to pee, Mommy," you admit weakly, a waver in your voice. "It really wants to come out."

"Will there be a leak inside your panties when Mommy checks?"

You shake your head no.

"You make Mommy so proud," your Mommy husks. "Keeping it inside so obediently."

Your Mommy pushes your jeans down your hips and puts her hand inside your underwear, parting your downright sodden labia, two fingers trailing along your entire slit.

Both of you moan.

Your cunt clenches down around nothing and coats your Mommy's palm with additional pussy juice. "Oh, so very wet, Princess," your Mommy purrs tauntingly. "You've ruined your panties. Holding her pee inside makes my horny slut gush all over Mommy's fingers."

You whimper.

"You would love to hump your cunt against a pillow right now like a little rabbit in heat until it just bursts out of you in a big, big stream, and all you'd be able to do is let it happen helplessly, wouldn't you?" Your Mommy starts rubbing your swollen and oversensitive clit, and you cling to her upper arms to keep yourself upright, choking on your breath. "Yeah, you'd love it. Being forced to sully yourself but secretly enjoying it like such a nasty little thing."

"God." You are barely able to process what your Mommy is saying.

"Mommy's good girl." Your Mommy pinches your button and gives it a few jerks.

"Mommy!" You shriek. "D-don't! I can't concentrate when you're doing this, and then I-" You can't finish speaking, your mouth hanging open in silent ecstasy, hips arching into your Mommy's fingers on their own accord.

"And then? Does it threaten to come out when Mommy's playing with you like this?" Your Mommy gives your pearl an extra hard nudge, then collects more wetness from your hole and pokes at your tiny pee slit. "Hmm?"

"Y-yes, Mommy! I c-can't..." You squirm and clamp your legs shut, forcing your Mommy's hand to still between your thighs. "So full."

"It's okay," your Mommy hushes, putting her other arm around you and holding you close. Her hand retreats from inside your panties and stuffs the cum-soiled fabric into your snatch instead, pressing down on your clit again over the material. "Let a little bit dribble out, Princess."

You bite your lip and put your temple onto your Mommy's shoulder, your rapid breathing puffing against her throat.

"Just a little bit, so there is room enough until we get home."

"Into my panties?" You ask quietly. Hopefully.

"Yes. I know that my whore loves to pee into her undies. Wet them, baby. Have an accident."

You try to relax enough to release a bit but not so much that you can't stop anymore. You can feel your hot pee starting to creep out. Your Mommy keeps stroking you through your soggy underwear. The way the slick material slides over your heated skin feels divine.

"It's coming, Mommy," you whisper.

"You're such a good little pee slut for Mommy, darling."

The first drops trickle out of your hole, and then a tiny rivulet follows. Your Mommy growls and rubs more firmly, thrusting her fingers into the expanding, distinctively wetter spot on your crotch. "Good girl. A little bit more."

One small spurt and then a stronger one. You feel your clammy panties growing warm. Your Mommy cups your entire mound, pushing against your slit, and you grind your cunt against your Mommy's palm.

"Feels so good, Mommy. Want to cum." As minuscule and short-lived as it is, the relief coursing through your body at this moment has you vibrating with ravenous need.

"Not yet."

"Mommy, please..." You claw at your Mommy's shoulder plates, rutting your core against her. "Let me cum, please! Wanna cum."

"Baby," your Mommy warns, hugging you against her, denying you the room you need to move. You're still trying to get stimulation on your clit, pressing deeper into your Mommy's embrace. "I need to cum so badly," you mumble over and over again in a frenzy, reduced to a squirming, incoherent, delirious mess.

"When we get home."

  ♡   

               you can read the actual story here ˚✧.

               

[gretahayes]

"He said I didn't care you were in the hospital," Bart says, nails digging into his palms. "And I was mad and I didn't have my speed and everything was making me upset." "You punched a student because I was in the hospital? And he said you didn't care?" Max asks carefully, slowly, as if Bart’s being dumb, as if it wasn't a good reason, as if the kid had any right- "Yes!" Bart snaps. "Yes, I did! Why the hell did you do that?"

"Why did I do that?" Max says, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't plan to be taken. I didn't plan to be almost killed."

"Yeah well maybe you should plan better then!" Bart says hotly. "And stop being so selfish!"

"I was being selfish?"

"Yes! Leaving me was selfish and I hate you!" Bart yells, and his words start ramming together, "what if you really died, then? What would I do?"

How could you do that to me? Bart thinks angrily, and the stupid tears brimming in his eyes just make him more angry, how could you disappear on me for three days, then almost die? You know I need you. You know I need you. And now you're acting like it's my fault.

"Bart," Max says, softer. And Bart hates that tone.

Bart wipes his eyes aggressively. "You know I need you, Max, you know, and you left me out of nowhere and I know you were taken but you almost got yourself killed and I thought maybe you'd die and he said I didn't care-"

Write the fic you want to see in the world

[mari-lair]

A snippet of the Teru Dimensional Travel fic.