#have a drabble

[paper-mache-socks]

Okay but imagine you and Kid are cuddling in bed after sleeping by each other's side all night. You notice that the sun has filled up the cabin you two shared and Kid still has yet to wake. You watch him and draw circles on his back as you can feel his red hair tickling your neck. You look down, admiring you captain as the sun shines on him making him look almost angelic.

You can hear the other crew mates getting ready for the day and sigh realizing that you can no longer enjoy the company of your captain much longer.

Gently placing a hand on the side of his face, you lift up his head. You smile as you start to pepper his face in light yet loving kisses. Soon enough, you see his eyes open.

"Morning captian. Time to wake up." A frown appeared on his face before you feel him wrap his arm tighter around you.

"No. I'm comfortable. They can take care of things themselves." His voice groggy as he closed his eyes again, laying his head closer to your chest.

"How can you be the pirate king if your in here with me all day?" You chuckle softly hearing him groan at your words.

"Fine whatever." You lifted up his head once more and saw his grumpy face, smiling at him before kissing his forehead and rubbing his cheek softly.

"Let's go conquer the sea's together my pirate king."

[rollinouttahere-writes]

can’t stop thinking about dad sanji introducing little lucky to zeff😭😭

just “hey zeff guess what”

It would be so cuuuuute! 😭

Given that going back to the Baratie isn't super doable for them, Zeff most likely finds out about this when Sanji mails him an envelope that looks like it's about to explode from how full it is.

Zeff doesn't know what to expect when he opens it. Frankly, he hadn't even been expecting to get a letter from Sanji, figuring that he would be too busy to do so. Naturally, him and everyone else at the Baratie are crowded around the envelope to see what's inside.

The second it's torn open, photos come spilling out. Tons of them. All of the same kid. Sure, other people make appearances in them, but this little girl is the star. Zeff narrows in on her face, something about her feels familiar. Then he flip it over and finds a description on the back.

"Lucky's first batch of cupcakes!"

Zeff is able to piece together what happened pretty quick. He saw all kinds of crazy shit when he was in the Grand Line. Someone getting de-aged by a devil fruit power is hardly unbelievable.

Everyone continues going through the mountain of photographs, all with notes written on the back. There's even a few drawings thrown in the mix that they can only assume were made by Lucky. At the very bottom of the envelope is another, smaller envelope that is specifically addressed to Zeff.

He opens it, finding a very brief letter inside with one sentence, "I have a kid now."

Patty reads it over his shoulder and immediately claps him on the back, "Look at you! You're a grandpa now, you old bastard!"

All Zeff can do is look at the letter and pictures in front of him and smile a little. Seems like he raised that little brat right after all.

[cookieofearthbread]

White Lily was chasing after Pure Vanilla who was making sure to keep his distance from her however remaining in her line of sight as he could be laughing. Whilst White Lily only a a look of determination on her face; trying to gain the distance towards him.

The reason why White Lily was after him?

Well, it was because she wanted to get back at the healer for the pranks he had pulled on her as well as booping her on the nose when she least expected it... The prank being swapping the salt and sugar around as well as swapping all the books around in her room; purposely placing them in the wrong order.

"Come on, White Lily. Surely you can catch me." Pure Vanilla teased the other as he used the flower staff to look behind him to see White Lily's expression whom only let out a loud groan before her eyes flickered for a brief moment.

Soon her staff glow which was soon followed up with vines coming out from the ground and a yelped from Pure Vanilla as the vines caught up to him, wrapping around him, and pinning him on the spot... A pout forming on the healer's face whilst the other just slowly walked up to him with a grin on her face; trying to hide her own laughter.

"That's cheating." He spoke once White lily was close enough whom simply responded.

"There was no rules discussed, Vanilla."

"Still.... The fun is in the chase."

"Regardless, I still need to my revenge on what you did early on... You know it was cruel to play two pranks then booping me on the nose afterwards." She waved her hand as the vines unwrap then retreated back into the ground; leaving the healer on the ground before getting up and brushing himself off.

Once Pure Vanilla was done, he turn to look at White Lily whom quickly booped him on the nose before running off which earn a small chuckle for a moment from the healer.

Soon shortly he started to chase after her.

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[emphistic]

Your husband, Toji, could really be the worst sometimes.

He was in the middle of helping you cut vegetables up for dinner in the kitchen, when, out of the blue, Little Megumi came scampering in. Megumi reached his dad's side, and, trying to take a look at what was going on, stood on his tippy toes and peered at the counter.

Noticing that food was being prepared, Megumi blurted out, with no humor in his voice, "Hurry up."

Originally, Toji thought about scolding Megumi on his way of talking to adults, when, he got a brilliant idea. "Why?"

"Because I'm hungry, duh."

"Hi, Hungry," Toji looked down at Megumi with a grin, "I'm Dad."

Megumi gave his dad the biggest side glance known to man, and scoffed. "Hmph, I'm serious."

"You're not Serious; you're Hungry."

Megumi rolled his eyes, annoyed at his ridiculous dad. "Are you Kidding Me?"

"No," Toji shook his head, trying to hide his laughter, "I'm Dad."

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[yeyinde]

thinking about Simon who just gets out of prison for murder after he's been locked up since he was 18, and starts working at a slaughterhouse for his parole. a big, scary dog who has bloodstains all over him, permanently crusted in the crease of his nails because he prefers field dressing over dragging the carcass inside the shop. who always smells of iron and sweat, and looms over you like he was trying to keep everyone else from looking at you. possessive, but you only know him from rumours and blog posts. his stare, the intense, hungry way he looks at you always gives you the creeps.

he's bad news. and he tries to woo you by feeding you meat from the animals he butchered (getting angry whenever you buy cuts from someone else), and won't go away even when you tell him to leave you alone. you've heard the rumours. read the news articles. nothing about this man is any good—

but he won't, of course. the thing about prison is that you need to hold onto the things that you have and take the stuff that you don't. a sort of cutthroat survival that has raised him better than his own mother. so, when he finds you (something he doesn't have, but wants), it's just in his nature to take.

[bats-and-the-birds]

I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.

When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.

When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.

Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.

And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.

Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.

Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.

Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.

That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.

Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.

Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.

Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.

Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.

[catsoupki]

i think. I THINK. because bakugou is so bad at verbalising all that he feels for you, he goes above and beyond plus-ultra and everything in his actions. he knows he loves you, he thinks about it every time he sees you but he just can’t say it. so what does he do? he covers the table corners when you’re picking something up from the floor. he does your dishes for you even when you didn’t ask. he greets you at the door when you come home and he takes the time to set your bag down onto the cabinet and he bends down to take your shoes off. he prepares your lunch boxes to take to work everyday without fail. when it’s a sunday and you two are sleeping in, he’ll use his head to block the sun from shining onto your eyes so you won’t wake up. so he can cuddle you longer. his actions are always over the top because it’s the result from having all of these iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou bouncing inside his head with no way of escaping and this is the only way they can get out to the world and into you.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

oral fixation but it's biting instead of sucking. toji has noticed that you like to gnaw on your lip a lot – when you're deep in thought, when you're watching tv, scrolling on your phone, in bed. it's cute. teeth sinking into the soft flesh, eyes blown wide as he works his mouth on you. he can't tear his gaze from you – you're biting down so hard, toji thinks you're going to draw blood. you're desperate, you're needy, and you need more.

he often finds you chewing on your on fingers, too. playing with the sharp canines in your mouth, toji holds back a groan before fixing himself through his pants. it's not his fault you look so good all the fucking time! and the fact that you're doing it unconsciously too, is making his head spin.

you do that in bed as well. toji has learned that you're not trying to hold back your moans – your teeth itch. you need more. he can see the marks you leave on your own skin, how you drool all over the finger that's lodged between your fangs. you bite down harder and harder with every thrust he makes and it has him wondering how much it hurts. do you like the pain? can you even feel it, or is it just pleasure in your head? he needs to know.

so, with one quick move, he pulls your hand from your mouth and pushes his own pointer finger past your lips instead. his hips never falter and he fucking adores the way you try to focus on what he's doing; you're fighting the urge to just let your eyes roll back inside your head but now that his heavy finger sits on top your tongue, you cannot allow them to do so.

your mouth is so warm and wet, and toji twitches inside you. his own lips part as he stares down at your confused expression. you close your mouth around his finger, thinking that he wants you to suck it but no, no...

"bite." his voice is more hushed than usual and the knot in your tummy tightens. "i know ya want to."

hesitation pools in your eyes but he washes it away by leaning forward and pressing a haste kiss to your cheek. it's sloppy, it leaves a stain and a whine bubbles up from your throat. he stays close, his lips brush over your jaw – and that's all it takes for you to obey.

the hiss he let's out is addicting; he pulls back from you in an instant, his mossy eyes glued to your mouth. it doesn't hurt, not really – it's perfect. the roll of his hips slows as he tries to slide his finger between your teeth (he wants it to hurt a little more), he loves the way sharp edges scratch st his already rough skin and he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. a little scared that he'll stop, that he'll tease you, but he won't. not when it feels this good.

you bite down even harder and his hips buck forward at the sensation. his own eyes grow wide, surprised by how much it's affecting him and he grumbles something under his breath before picking up the pace again. you're leaving dents in his skin and you're drooling, you're squirming and twitching. you're so fucking pretty and fucked out and cockdrunk and you keep whining around his fingers and he's going to pump you so full that you're going to taste his cum<33333

[bokutoko]

osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ‘samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

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[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about older bf!simon that can’t get it up.

seriously.

friday night at the end of a long week, curled under his arm- not an inch of your mouth that his tongue hasn’t covered.

the palm of your hand has been working him over his trousers for what feels like the better part of an hour.

no dice.

“m’sorry, sweet’art”

simon looks spent, absolutely knackered.

“s’all good, we don’t have to”

he groans, utter frustration written all over his face as he picks you up to plonk you down in his lap.

“but i want to”

he wants to, he wants it more than he wants breath in his fucking lungs. his body just can’t hack it.

ultimate betrayal.

burying your face where his neck meets his shoulder, your hand slips between the two of you. gently stroking his soft cock in your hand, you feel the tension start to leave him.

“can still play with it a little, f’you want?”

the sound of your voice, the heat of your hand- simon’s hips jolt when you pull back his foreskin to rub over the head.

his breath stutters as his chest deflates, arm wrapping around your waist so he could slip his fingers between your thighs.

“y’good to me, sweet’art- jus’ like that”

[ahfrickenfrick]

everyone who knows dick personally knows he is very smart, analytical, and geeky

however the news outlets have been spouting off ‘richie wayne’ ever since dick was taken in as bruce’s ward, and tend to write him as the ‘dumb hot’ stereotype

one night talk show gets dick onto it, under the premise that the money from that show would be going to charity, they put him up against random college students about topics they are majoring in

everyone expects dick to flirt or joke his way through the questions, so when he starts buzzing in first and answering correctly, they eventually question him

and with a shrug he says, “grew up traveling around the world, was vice president to the mathletes club that took nationals in high school at 14, and was actually in training to take up either a head aspect or a tech aspect of wayne enterprises; had to do classes and work for that, my best friend and i played video games and coded our own, also social media is easy to keep up with with my siblings and such” he finishes with a dismissive wave and smile, quickly running through the subjects that he was quizzed on

it quickly goes viral, and dick left that studio with a lighter chest and a bright smile

[angelstrn]

dating matt is hard at times, especially for you who requires attention 24/7. attention he couldn't fully give you due to his spontaneous filming and work hours, but after a bit of pouting, doe eyes, and matt calling you dramatic, he agreed to let you tag along on a busy day.

you hadn't realized how tiring it was to be so busy, and after a few hours all the pouting was useless because you ended up fast asleep.

tucked into your boyfriends bed, the sound of the washing machine finishing wakes you up from your sleep. you lazily rub your eyes and walk into the kitchen, finding matt working.

standing there taking it all in, you notice how good he looks when he's focused — his tousled hair, his beard coming in, the glasses sitting on his nose where you should be sitting instead.

he feels your presence and perks his head up at you, giving you a soft smile. "hi, baby. you okay?", he places his glasses atop his head and opens his arms, reaching out to you.

maybe you were being dramatic, but you swear you would have done anything for him right then and there just at the sight of him. you smile at him with a lustful look in your eye and his entire demeanor shifts. as soon as you reach him you're practically jumping into his arms, legs on either side of his and lip immediately crashing into matts.

he pulls back for a second, catching his breath and mumbling, "what is it with you today, huh? so fuckin' needy—" you clearly didn't care, stopping him mid-sentence and pressing your mouth back onto his.

his hands slide up your torso and grip onto your waist, pulling you up to sit you onto the table and pushing away his laptop in the process.

you press yourself into him and matt groans into your mouth as his hands roam all over your body. you break away, matt letting out a whimper looking at you with a pout on his face.

your hands reach up to his glasses, repositioning them onto his face.

"better," you smile letting your fingers run through his hair.

"yeah?" he whispers softly, eyes locked on your lips.

"yeah."

your back is pressed against the table now, matt slowly rolling his hips into you, hair messy and glasses a little foggy. "need it, matt. need it so bad," you whine, pushing yourself up and down his length like your life depended on it.

"shit. oh my god." he groans, running a hand through his hair in disbelief at your impatience before increasing his speed and pounding into you.

his hand moves down to where you're connected, his thumb grazing your clit which earns a moan from you. matt kisses you deeply, slipping his tongue into your mouth making the kiss even sloppier.

you squeeze against him, leaving a creamy ring around his base. he groans again in response, thumbing at your nub faster as his hips snap into you.

"pleasepleaseplease, im almost there, matt!" you sob. matt smiles at your cry's, burying himself into the crook of your neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

"you got it, sweetheart. cmon, give it to me." he coos, egging you on further.

you finally let loose, eyes squeezing shut and little ah ah ah's leaving your plush lips. matts right behind you, shooting up into you with a low groan as his hips stutter.

matt sighs, leaning down to give you a kiss before smiling, turning his head towards his bedroom.

"round two?"

"can you keep the glasses on?"

[siltyriver]

I am such a slut for Danny having supernatural strength and being able to kill someone with a single slap because he’s used to fighting ghosts who are built Sturdy (and literally can’t die, that is very helpful in a sparing partner) so he has to learn such meticulous control when he moves to Gotham where he starts regularly getting into scuffles with humans who think he’s an easy target (he looks like he has the sturdiness of a wet newspaper) and the whole time he’s more stressed about not drawing the Bats attention by being too good or accidentally killing someone so he has to walk that fine line of acting like a scrawny loser and dipping out at his first chance without being clocked as a meta.

Danny, laying on the ground and getting kicked repeatedly by a thug: *tries to angle himself so the guy can kick out a knot in his back*

Danny: *deadpan* oh, ow, stop that hurts, oof

Robin, watching from the rooftop and recognizing the dramatics from the Supers: father there is a meta

Batman, also watching and having flashbacks to Clark’s earlier days: *so so tired and already mentally getting the adoption paperwork ready*