#mini fic

[leafsheep]

When Dick first met Tim, he was a kid at his doorstep begging him to be Robin again, begging him to go back to Bruce so that Bruce could be okay again. He understood what Tim was saying then, and maybe he should’ve said okay- hell he wished he had some days, because now he looks at Timothy and just knows that he could’ve avoided so much suffering if Dick had just agreed.

But he had been fighting with Bruce, he wasn’t okay either. How was he supposed to be okay? How was he supposed to hold together Bruce when he was barely holding himself together? How was he supposed to go back to being Robin when Robin was dead?

Robin was dead. He was dead.

Dick didn’t know when Robin started dying to him. When he was kicked out of the manor, maybe? Or maybe it was when he saw Jason standing in his family colors. Either way Dick knew his mother’s Robin was dying around that time- and when Jason died, when he saw that goddamn shrine to his baby brother who he barely knew… when he realized his family colors, his name, his childhood, was soaked in blood. That’s when he knew Robin was dead.

But if Dick said he didn’t wish he had agreed to Tim’s request he’d be lying. Because seeing another Robin one who was Robin not for himself but for Bruce- for Batman. That put the nail in the casket. Watching Tim as Robin twisted Dick’s guts inside him, it mocked him and told him that Robin will never mean what it once did.

Stephanie’s stint with his name, he didn’t know much of, but his stomach dropped when he heard of what happened to her. He remembered the feeling of guilt and anger pooling inside him, a stinging string of memories and harsh words in his head to remind him of how he should’ve been there.

With Damian he felt bad to take the name from Tim, he felt queasy about letting anyone have the name at all in all honesty, but he was so like him. He looked at Damian and saw the young circus boy who was angry and impulsive and full of potential. He saw Robin.

Damian was brash and he didn’t respect Dick much at first, to him Robin was a connection to his Father who he had lost, Dick could work with that, sure Bruce wasn’t Dick’s Mother and Father, but the basic idea of Robin was the same to them back then.

It’s much later when Dick realizes that it wasn’t just Tim that was hurt by his decision to make Damian Robin. It wasn’t until he failed to save the boy from the clone of himself that he realized how horrible his decision was. Seeing the littlest Robin, blood seeping into his family colors once more, Dick Grayson realized he never should have turned down Tim all those years ago, if he hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened. He realized he should never have left the manor in the first place, he should’ve kept going as Robin and never let Bruce give Jason the name in the first place— or he at least should’ve been able to pick up his damn phone all those years ago, maybe that would’ve changed things too.

Even with the resurrection of Damian, of Robin, Dick can’t see his colors the same.

His parents would never be proud of him if they saw what he let Robin become, a line of young kids all doomed by their name. By his name. He let his family name become a death sentence.

[frownyalfred]

sorry rewatching arrow (still) and a random fic idea/scene popped into my head:

—-

“Keep him back,” Bruce said, gesturing at Ollie. “We need twenty seconds for the comms to link up.”

He briefly looked up from the comm at the sound of Oliver’s bow twanging. The goon slammed back against the wall with a bit-off scream, one shoulder pinned to the brick through and through by a razor-sharp arrow.

“What?” Ollie asked when he spotted Bruce looking. “You said to keep him back.”

Blood gushed down the goon’s shirt, though not fast enough to be concerning. It looked extraordinarily painful, and Bruce — several years into recovery from a knife wound to his left rotator cuff — had a feeling it was.

That’s one way to do it.

[moonage-nightterrors]

you cannot tell me that at some point Dean didn’t think it’d be cool as fuck to get one ear pierced. and he would absolutely not know about earring code. and dudes would start hitting on him and he would just not know why and have a full-blown identity crisis about why suddenly everyone thinks he’s gay (cue repressed bisexual Dean Winchester)

meanwhile Sam knew this whole time and has just been laughing his ass off watching it all go down

[alcohol1maid]

Small talk (chaoxiang x kema short fic!)

(Small tw for: impiled ch!ld abuse!)

The blonde haired girl was invited to a mansion by a her new friend, trickster. When the young girl got there, she was confused on the kind of aesthetic and how the others behaved in this 'family' .

"You can explore around, little miss kema! Just don't go..too far" said trickster, all though kema was suspicious of what she had said, but decided to mind her own business and explore her new friends big house.

The only one whom stood out to her was a brown haired tall boy. She noticed he was awfully quiet compared to the others, he was sitting on a wall, smoking on some kind of traditional pipe.

"Yo"

kema said to the much taller boy. The brown haired boy looked down at her, quickly knowing why this girl was here.

"Oh..hello"

All though kema wasn't the talkative person

(it's been god since knows when she's started a conversation with someone who wasn't north sky or sofia)

kema noticed the two had something in common.

"Your..uhm..Chao..ze-"

"It's chaoxiang"

"O-oh sorry.." Kema apologised, looking at the floor. Slowly starting to regret starting a conversation.

"No no dear" Chaoxiang looked at the shorter girl, who was looking at the ground.

"It's alright dearie, don't worry about it" chaoxiang said, immediately smoking his pipe after.

"O-okay" after a mini awkward silence between the two, chaoxiang broke it within seconds.

"So, one of tricksters friends?"

"Y-yeah, she invited me over. No offense, but this family's kinda..ya know.." she said as she moved her hand, tilited her hand side to side.

Chaoxiang ignored what kema just said, instead changing the subject.

"Are there any more friends here?" Chaoxiang looked around, wondering if trickster did something stupid again.

"N-no, just me..she said if I brought anyone else over she'd..not be happy"

"That sounds concerning" chaoxiang dropped.

"Y-yeah but, I don't blame her"

"Uhm" chaoxiang grunted. Still looking at the smaller girl.

"I like your..style, the yellow eyepatch with that smily face..adds to it" chaoxiang said, looking up and down at the girl, which kema was quick to notice.

"Oh, thanks, I deisgned it myself. I wanted to go for more of a 'don't touch me' look, ya know?" It was rare for kema to be confident, especially when talking to new people like this.

Chaoxiang smiled after kemas words, all though it seemed corny. She seemed so young and still learning the world around her.

"Oh, by the way" chaoxiang coughed "whats your name? I never got it"

"O-oh! It's kema, kema umi.."

"Oh well then, that is a pretty name, especially for someone like you, you suit it" chaoxiang closed his eyes and took another puff of his pipe.

Kema blushed at this, no one's really complimented her name since north sky learnt she was changing her name. So it gave her some happiness, which again wanst the most common thing for her.

Chaoxiang puffed again while side eying kema.

She was sort of different from the other visitors trickster brought over the past couple of years, chaoxiang thought, not different different but stood out just a tiny bit to him.

After a small minute, kemas small bit of happiness immediately died when her phone started buzzing in her pocket.

She bit her nail, while reaching for her pocket "please be north sky, please be north sky" She muttered under her breath.

Chaoxiang noticed this quickly but didn't comment on it.

Kema looked at her phone, sadly it wasn't north sky, it was someone that went by "bitch auntie 🖕"

"Fuuucck" kema moaned, removing her hand from her mouth and on her forehead. Obviously not in the best mood.

Kema sighed and picked up the phone.

"*sigh* hello?" Kema said disappointingly, walking away from chaoxiang into the dining room.

Chaoxiang couldn't make up the words through the wall, or her aunt was talking about, but he could tell it wasn't pretty.

After half a minute, chaoxiang saw kema slowly walk back towards him, she looked like she was almost gonna cry, but still tried to keep a tough look on.

"I-i gotta go, tell trickster I had to leave..okay?"

Chaoxiang nodded, but had a deep concern for the young girl, all though his face didn't show it. He seemed very concerned for what happened on the phone call and why she was scared to pick it up.

Kema left, running through the halls quickly.

Chaoxiang took another puff as he watched her. Slightly disappointed she had to leave, especially in a rush like this.

"Hm" chaoxing said, walking away from the wall that they talked on. Shrugging his shoulders on his way to his bedroom.

THE END

-----

Thanks for reading, it's been a while since I worte a fic (and drew kema-) so I decided to fix that!

Chaoxiang belongs to @boiling-potato !!

Kema umi belongs to me!!

[ddawnee]

hobie’s seen some of miles’ graffiti work and took interest in it himself, so one day he asks miles if he could spray paint a spider on one of his plain tees to give it pizazz.

usually, miles isn’t really worried about his graffiti art being perfect; but this time it’s different. hobie’s cool as hell, what if he doesn’t like the finished product? that’d destroy his ego.

so he’s been circling around the t-shirt that laid on the floor, shaking a can of black spray paint for about ten minutes now. it was simple, really; all he needed to do was a circle and then the spider on the inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to start just yet, because what if the circle comes out lopsided, or he doesn’t make the spider big enough to fit four legs on each side?

it didn’t really help that hobie leaned against the wall in front of miles, observing miles circle around like a nervous mess.

“miles.. you good?”

“huh?”

“you’ve been doing..” unsure of what to call it, hobie motions with his hand, “this, for the past ten minutes. do you like.. need some inspo?”

“oh no, it’s not that, it’s just..” he isn’t sure how to cover it up, so he just is honest, “i don’t wanna mess it up, it’s gotta look nice.”

“it’s fine, no big deal if it’s messy.”

“you sure?” miles stops his pacing, looking down at the blue tee. it was modified, the collar and bottom hem messily torn off to fit hobie’s style more, and now miles felt a bit stupid for overthinking his craft; hobie was all about messy!

“yeah, the shirt don’t got any sentimental value for me yet, so i’m not gonna get mad if you absolutely fuck up the spider.” hobie shrugs.

miles raises a brow. “yet?” he’s really curious about what that means, and even finds himself hoping it means what he thinks it does.

he totally isn’t sure why though, of course.

“yeah, right now this shirt is just like, basic.” hobie starts, and miles doesn’t realize it but his voice gets a bit softer. “it doesn’t really have a meaning, but once you give it your touch it gets its value, because it’s your craft that you’re giving to me, y’know?”

there’s a lot more that hobie wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the courage to do it. he realizes he kind of went off on a tangent, and possibly annoyed miles, if it weren’t for the wide eyed look on the boy’s face. “sorry, that was a bit too much.” he grimaces.

“oh, oh no, it’s fine!” miles reassures the other, a smile on his face. “i appreciate your appreciation a lot.”

he shakes the can of spray paint, a hint of determination in his eyes as he looks at the tee once more.

[konaharts]

RadioStatic Week 2024

First Meeting

[I'm probably not going to do all the days due to work, but I wanted to draw at least this one!

I know they most likely met while Vox was building a video/tv empire in Hell, but I couldn't get this one scenario out of my head of Alastor finding Vox shortly after he arrives in Hell. Enjoy this mini-fic I wrote about it!]

The sinner was scrawny, a picture box laying on his shoulders, the glass having been broken in by the demons Alastor had just chased away. What looked like a face occasionally flashed on the screen.

The Radio Host's eyes scrunched up in disgust, his very personal feelings and opinions about televisions flooding into him. He should have passed on by.

Whoever this sinner was, he was possibly one of the most pathetic-looking sinners Alastor had ever laid his eyes upon.

Even so, a sinner down on his luck was another opportunity for a deal and another avenue to grow his power.

"My, my. You look like you've seen better days! Welcome to Hell, my good fellow!"

At the sound of the Radio Demon's voice, the newest arrival to Hell turned his head, the broken screen flashing, occasionally illuminating Alastor's face. A distorted, filtered voice with uneven volume emanates from the picture box, words occasionally repeating and stuttering due to the damage.

"H-H-Hell? W-W-Wał₮…I. I. I. I. Kn-Know th-th-₮Ⱨ₳₮ voł₵Ɇ."

Alastor paused.

"Oh?"

"A-A-Al₳₴₮ØⱤ ████████. ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆ ███ ███████ RadĐłØ ₴ⱧØ₩. I-I-It's beɆ₦ ɎɆ₳Ɽ₴, b-b-but I re₵Ø₲₦łⱫɆ th₳₮ vØł₵Ɇ."

This was unexpected. With the wave of his cane, Alastor's powers begin to turn the clock on the sinner's face, repairing it, piece by piece.

"You've heard of me?"

"Ⱨ₳ve I?" The last bit of machinery and glass push themselves in, the cracks instantly healing. A flash, and a now-complete face graces the screen. The distorted voice disappears, replaced by the voice of an enthusiastic man with a filter similar to Alastor's own. "Why, you're my inspiration!" The sinner's face beams with excitement.

Finally, some proper recognition in this hellhole. Alastor's grin turns into a wide smile. Dare he say, genuine, for once?

"Well, well, well! What a surprise! It's not everyday I come across someone who's heard of me before falling into the pits of Hell! Tell me,"

Alastor helps up the television man and straightens his antenna.

"What do they call you, ol' chum?"

The sinner hesitates. No doubt someone or something had informed him about how sinners tend to change their names upon arriving in Hell.

"…Vox."

A peculiar name.

"Well, Voxy, I know a place with the best drinks this side of town! Let's have a chat and get you settled in, hm?"

With an arm around his shoulder, Alastor leads Vox away. Despite his reservations with the...asset...Hell had so graciously gifted this poor soul as a head, maybe having someone with knowledge about television that he could manipulate wouldn't be so bad.

[lovelytsunoda]

i want candy // lando norris

summary: two podiums in a row for her lover boy. it’s time to celebrate.

pairing: lando norris x female reader

warnings: pure smut, but also giggly and kind of giddy.

“I mean, I stopped counting max’s wins like three races ago so in my books, you’re the big winner.” she laughs, settling across from him on the bed.

“if only the fia saw it that way.” lando laughed, clinking his glass against hers before tilting the champagne to his lips. “but two p2s in a row isn’t too bad, is it?”

“I’m proud of you, lando norris.”

lando smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

they crossed their arms over each others, chugging back their glasses. landos thumb rested on her upper thigh, near the hem of her tennis dress as he rubbed gentle circles on her skin. he leaned in, growling playfully as he sucked a hickey onto her neck.

“lando!” she giggled, jumping slightly at the contact against her sensitive skin, dropping the glass and frowning as the champagne worked its way across her skin, dripping onto the hotel bedspread.

“sorry, love.” he laughs, leaning down to lick up the champagne on her thigh.

she moans at the contact, placing the now empty glass on her nightstand before she leans back against the pillows, going up her skirt as lando sucks and kicks his way up her thigh, leaving hickeys and the stick of alcohol in his wake.

“come claim your prize, podium sitter:” she laughs, opening her thighs wider to expose the glittery orange panties she’s wearing. “it’s all for you, pretty boy.”

lando bites his bottom lip, hungry hands reaching to pull down her soaked panties, trying his best not to tear them.”

“lando..” she whined “you’re going too slowly.”

lando giggled, nuzzling his face into her thigh with a kiss. “I forgot how needy champagne makes you.”

“oh fuck off.” she laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “please, lando.”

the driver crept his way up her thigh, blowing cool air over her clit, relishing in watching her drip onto the bedsheets. he leaned in and kissed her sopping core softly, gently teasing her with his tongue.

“you taste just like candy, love. and I want more.”

he kissed her again with even more intensity, slipping his tongue inside of her as she let out a hearty moan, arching her back from the bed before landos large hands pressed her back towards the mattress.

“lando!” she whined “fuck, god, please keep doing that.”

he grinned, witching his focus higher to suck her clit, sneaking a few fingers inside her while he was distracted. she moaned heartily, thighs threatening to close around his head as he rapidly plunged his fingers in and out of her opening, appendages covered in evidence of her arousal.

“try and keep your thighs open, baby. be a good girl for me.” lando cooed, pinching her clit with his free hand.

she screamed his name, bucking against his fingers and fighting the urge to touch her hard nipples underneath her dress. she settled for clutching the sheets, fingers becoming stiff from how hard she clutches the pristine white fabric.

it still astounded her how quickly lando could reduce her to this babbling moaning mess. she doesn’t beg, ever, but somehow lando could get her chanting ‘please’ like it was the only word in the dictionary, like it was a prayer for salvation.

“I can feel you clenching around my fingers, pretty girl.” lando chuckled, picking up the pace he was scissoring his fingers at, changing up the rhythm for better sensations, ones he knew would push her over the edge. “is my good girl going to come for me? come on my fingers, love, don’t be scared. soak my fingers in your come.”

“oh god!” she whines, things finally closing in around her lover as he uses his thumb to draw desperate circles on her clit, her fingers pulling on his curls, a growl leaving his throat. “lando, I’m gonna-“

“that’s it, pretty one. come for me. come, come. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”

“yes, god, lando, only you.” she babbled, unable to say much else as she came, walls contracting around landos fingers. “only you.”

he pulled his fingers out, slipping them into his mouth and sucking her juices off them. her eyes rolled back at the sight as lando positioned himself above her, a noticeable tent in his trousers.

“now look what you’ve done, pretty girl.” he chuckled, kissing her softly, allowing her to pull him into his arms. “I think you should take that dress off and let me unwrap the rest of my prize, because there’s no way in hell I’m done with you yet.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @lorarri @oconso @silverstonesainz @userlando @httpiastri

[violent138]

A nefarious, as yet unknown Gotham villain sends a message to the Batcave that the annual Gotham Easter egg hunt contains eggs that are poisonous/explosive. Jason and Dick are annoyed that a city like Gotham even has an Easter Egg hunt, while Damian reports that all his classmates and definitely half the city's children will be scouring the streets for eggs.

"Idiots." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Egg hunting is a massive waste of time."

"Yes, thanks Damian, that's what we need to hear right now." Tim smiled flatly at him, predicting where this was going.

In order to avoid panic due to the unconfirmed possible bombs, the Batfamily splits into teams to go find eggs, check them and return them back to the hiding places if they aren't explosive. The news picks up on it, rather confused to see the Red Robin, Spoiler, Signal, Orphan and Robin at it, but whatever they're kids. And Orphan looks particularly delighted to find eggs before hiding them somewhere better and Signal lights up the eggs a little and charms the kids.

However, Red Hood and Nightwing look a little more ridiculous, especially since Batman decided to scour the city for the villain instead of the eggs.

"No because he'a a [Censored] coward." Red Hood grumbles to a reporter when asked if Batman will also be participating.

"Oh look I found another one." Nightwing reported excitedly in the same broadcast and Red Hood immediately goes over, both of them examining it.

The side effect of them being out is that more kids decide to look for eggs. There's a mild panic and Steph questions the logic of not telling people the eggs are maybe bombs.

The day comes to a nail-biting end with zero maiming and Alfred reveals it was him and that he threw a pretty extravagant dinner to reward them for their hunting.

Bruce snickers at the look on the kids' faces.

[neontoad]

One day 15!Chuuya decides to join the library, because even though he did learn how to read and write while he was in the Sheep, he never got the chance to develop these skills properly. 

Now that he's in the Port Mafia, he feels self-conscious about it.

It's scary. He's afraid he'll never finish a single book, that he's beyond the point of no return, that librarians and visitors alike will simply laugh at him for struggling so much, so naturally, he doesn't tell a single soul about it.

At least if no one finds out he failed, he'll be able to pretend it never happened.

The "not telling a single soul" strategy fails the very moment Chuuya sits down with a book of Japanese folk fairytales in his hands. 

Two tables away, staring at him wide-eyed, is Dazai.

Turns out Dazai spends most of his free time there, staying until closing time. The library is warm and dry, there's electricity, water, and an endless amount of books - the complete opposite of his unwelcoming shipping container.

He doesn't want anyone to know that, either.

It becomes their little secret. 

They start reading together, huddled side-by-side with a book open in front of them. Much to Chuuya's surprise, Dazai doesn't laugh at him once, his bitter attitude forgotten as he patiently waits for Chuuya to finish the page. 

Chuuya doesn't even notice how quickly he starts keeping up with Dazai.

One day Dazai offers Chuuya some help with writing practice. He does let out a quiet chuckle when he sees the way Chuuya holds the pen, but Chuuya's anger and embarrassment fade away the moment Dazai gently takes his hand and helps him grip the pen properly.

The library becomes their safe haven in their turbulent world, a place where they can let everything go and just be.

Chuuya leans his head on Dazai's shoulder and turns the page, smiling to himself.

Joining the library was probably his best idea ever.

[nexysworld]

dude hear me out yall late night drive date with leon that ends spicy it been in my mind alll day

Hi Anon, thanks so much for the request!

Summary: Leon's been antsy since the moment he returned, you just want to help distract him from his thoughts. Pairing: RE4R!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Pussy eating, fingering, outside spicy time, overstimulation. Mini drabble. WC: 1.2K

Request Box || Masterlist

You were concerned by his behavior – Leon had been away for an unusually long time this last mission, and he was restless. From the moment he returned home, he hadn't stopped moving for one minute, constantly pacing around the apartment, bouncing his leg when he sat.

“Are you alright?” “Yeah, I’m ok.” “You just seem on edge.” 

He shrugged it off. “I guess I’m having a hard time mellowing out.” 

You nodded in return, it was obvious whatever happened during the mission was affecting him, and you didn’t want to pry – you just wanted to help. Looking over at the clock it was well past midnight. “Why don’t we go for a drive?” The suggestion seemed to grab his attention, as he perked up a bit. “I know you’re probably thinking of your bike, but that drive-in movie theater opened back up and it’s 24 hours.” “The one all the way off the highway?” “Mhm. I figure, it’s late, you can drive as fast as you want and we can curl up watching the movie.” 

His leg movement stopped as he looked away in thought. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

The drive went exactly as expected, Leon whipping down the highway and a speed that would make a dare-devil cry. You held on to the door for dear life, holding back any anxiety you were feeling, he was in the zone and you weren’t about to stop him. 

You gasp when he halted the vehicle abruptly, tires squealing, as a deer ran past. His arm shot out, hand splaying against your abdomen to help with the recoil. “You alright?” “Yeah, I’m good.” His hand moved down to give your thigh a light squeeze, making you gasp involuntarily. He raised his brow in interest, but didn’t say anything about it, continuing the drive to the theater.

There were no other cars in sight, and the teenager who ran the booth was asleep, large screens were still showing the reels from the projector. Leon pulled to the farthest one at the edge of the theater, parking his Jeep right in front. 

You didn’t recognize the film, but he seemed to be into it – at least you thought so until it started again, his leg bouncing in his seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You swore you’d even caught him glancing over at you several times.

Halfway through the showing, his hand made it back over to your leg, slowly working its way up from your knee to your thigh, before he squeezed it again. “Someone’s jumpy.” He cooed, giving it another one. “You’re one to talk.” “Mhm.” He moved it again this time, between your legs pressing two digits against your clothed heat. A mix between a whine and a hiss escaped you. “Lee! Not here! We’re literally outside.” He added pressure again, chuckling at your response. “No one else is out here sweetheart.” “The ticket booth –” “Is all the way at the front and run by sleeping beauty.” Removing his hand from between your legs, he gripped your chin and turned you to look at him. He connected your lips together heatedly, tongue lapping at your bottom lip before entangling with your own. “Please?” He whispered huskily. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You were never able to deny him – sighing you dared glance up into the blue gems of his eyes. “Fine…lucky I love– “ He cut you off again, leaning over the center console as he kissed you again. He pulled the level on your chair, making the seat fall back and he continued to lean forward not letting your lips go.

By the time he pulled away, you were left breathless and panting, the arousal between your legs throbbing with need. The positioning was awkward with the limited space within the vehicle, but he managed, pulling you so that one leg was dangling over the console as he helped you shimmy out of your pajama pants and undies, exposing you to the cool night air.

He yanked your other leg up and over his shoulder, hunching over the console so that he was face to face with your pussy. You squirmed a bit, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be in the cramped position you were in, un-digging the seatbelt from your back. “Oh fuck –” You gasped when he dove in, not bothering with any teasing licks. He flattened his tongue against your clit, lapping at it as he gripped your hips to hold you in place. “Lee –” Maybe it was the distance from his last mission, maybe it was his eagerness – you weren’t sure, but it didn’t take much for you to cum the first time. He switched it up to circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking the bead into his mouth. Instinctively, one hand grasped at his hair, while the other held tight to the door to ground you. You had expected to return the favor, or at least a break given the way the car must’ve been digging into his arms and chest, but he didn’t move at all. Not a moment later he was back to making out with your pussy like he would die without it – fucking his tongue into you to change the sensation before working his way back to your swollen and pudgy clit, sucking it back into his mouth again. If it weren't for his strong grip on you, you'd have been bucking and kicking with stimulation. Reeling from the second wave of heat that rushed over you, he finally allowed a small break, placing a few kisses to your overstimulated bundle of nerves. “So fucking good for me. Missed this pussy so much.” 

“Leon, please” You begged, hand still tangled in his locks, legs awkwardly splayed apart as they shook. “S’too much.” He looked up at you for the first time, mouth and chin covered in your juices – pupils blown with lust. “C'mon sweetheart, I know you can give me just one more.” Whimpering, your head fell back in pleasure as he returned to your needy cunt. A stream of expletives spewed from your mouth body white hot with pleasure. A crunching sound from behind you caught your attention, you ignored – until there was another, and another, and another – footsteps. “Lee!” You half yelled, half whispered to get his attention, tugging on his hair. He seemed to be lost in his own world, not realizing what was going on. The footsteps getting closer, made you panic and squirm. “Leon there’s someone coming over.” A flashlight reflecting back through the car’s side mirror mixed with the increasingly louder footsteps, finally seemed to catch his attention. He shot up, wiping his chin and tossing the jacket he kept wrapped on the driver’s seat over your lap as you closed your eyes pretending to be asleep. “Excuse me, is everything ok?” It was an older man with the theater’s logo on his shirt. “Someone from a few sections over reported hearing some...sounds.” “Oh yeah, we’re all good.” Leon shot the man a smile and a small wave. “We’ll just be heading out.” Once the sounds of footsteps retreated into the distance, you exhaled and sat up. “That was close, I told you –” “I know, couldn’t help myself though. It’s what I needed.” He leaned over and pecked your cheek. You couldn’t argue with that. “Why don’t we head home and finish things?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He said as he started the engine again.

[soaqrudyz]

they’re in the rec room one dreary afternoon, rain is pouring outside, shaking the walls of the base, and all soap really wanted was a cigarette. he’d been stressed, needlessly, helplessly, and now his one healthy means of escapism is gone, too. he’s about ready to explode, pacing the room like a caged animal, muttering senseless complaints and half baked sentences under his breath.

he’s startled out of his back and forth pace by gaz’s hand on his chest. a snarl finds its way to his lips and he has to fight to keep from spewing all the nasty, venomous thoughts that lay behind his lips.

“you need to chill out, mate” gaz drawls, pushing him ever so slightly backwards. his feet follow, trusting, even through his sour disposition.

“think i don’t know that?” he snaps, “i fuckin’ can’t.”

“that’s why i’m here to help. you’re bringing the whole base down, and you’ll wear a hole in the floor with all that stomping around.”

they walk back until soap is knocked onto the ratty sofa that price found god knows where. gaz maneuvers soap’s head to rest on the arm, his muscles wound tight despite being stretched out. he’s angry. angry and confused and he didn’t fucking like the rain, why did it always have to rain?

“ghost.” gaz calls, and soap notices his looming presence for the first time that day. which was a little shocking, considering the fact that soap could (and had, he’d won 70 quid off the stupid bet) pick ghost out in a crowd blindfolded just from the feeling of his stare alone.

soap realizes he might’ve been more out of it than he realized. the embarrassment only makes his blood run hotter.

“this some sort of intervention?” he growled, hands balled into tight fists.

gaz rolls his eyes and leaves, muttering a quiet “good luck with that.” to ghost and patting his shoulder as he passed.

his brain was a mess, he needed to get back up, needed to do something, fucking anything. the restlessness makes his fingers twitch, makes him burn from the inside out, he’s so god damn angry he could burst into flames.

and then ghost flops down right on top of him, and everything but the roiling thunder outside goes quiet. ghost is a big guy, pure muscle with a (very attractive) bit of fat around his middle. he was twice, maybe three times soap’s weight, no matter how much bulk he was putting on.

he’s overwhelmed by the man. his hands and legs are completely pinned. the weight on his chest forces him to take deeper breaths, which, in turn, make his tense muscles relax. the smell of ghost’s shampoo and detergent makes him dizzy, the soft cotton of his balaclava rubs against his cheek, and soap is mortified to find out he’s getting sleepy.

his eyes try to close, but he jerks himself awake each time. ghost is warm. like a big fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dyer, and really after the day he had, who could blame him for letting go for a minute?

“feels nice..” he slurs, eyes slipping shut again, but this time he doesn’t bother prying them back open.

“go to sleep, johnny.” ghost sighs, an exasperated little thing, and soap can feel the vibration of his voice all the way down to the tips of his toes.

he listens, if not only because it was raining outside and he couldn’t smoke a cigarette.

[artistsfuneral]

Jaskier meets Death at a forked path. He has never seen them in person before, their face - although incredible kind looking - is not one he's familiar with and yet he instinctively knows who is in front of him.

It's quite the idyllic picture to be honest. The path Jaskier has been following for the past few hours is lined with rough stone walls, the ones that are keeping flocks of sheep from straying too far. The sun is out and shining through the tree's leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the fresh grass. Death sits under one such dancing shadow-patch, surrounded by napping sheep. Their left hand is idly petting the spotted fur of a guardian dog, with their right, they're waving Jaskier over to join them.

He silently wonders if he should be scared. Others certainly would be terrified upon seeing Death waiting for them, but Jaskier has always been easily intrigued. Besides, Death is hardly looming over him, it's more like they're waiting for him - like one may wait for an old friend. It could be a trick of course, he muses as he walks over to where Death is sitting, then again it feels like the two of them could have met many, many times before and in much worse situations than this. So who is Jaskier to question Death?

The closer he gets the more he is able to take in. They're tall - taller than anyone he's met before, Jaskier thinks - and incredibly pretty. Not in the perfectly manicured kind of pretty, like some of the most beautiful darlings at court tend to be. No, Death carries a natural loveliness that can only be found and never created, like a special constellation of freckles, an off-center nose, or a small gap between your teeth. Death is everyone Jaskier ever sung of combined in one person, which makes him wonder if they always look like this or if they changed their appearance to please Jaskier's eyes specifically. If the latter, he'd surely feel flattered.

"Come sit with me, sweetheart," Death says and Jaskier is delighted to hear their voice. It's a very nice voice. He wants to hear Death laugh, he realizes as he sinks down next to them on the grass. Their eyes meet his and Death sends him the kindest smile, "It's been a while since I've seen you, sweetheart, I'm glad to see you happy and healthy." Jaskier grins, because what a funny thing for Death to say, but he can hear the honesty in their words. "Oh you know, just the usual aches and pains of my slowly progressing age. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before, I'm sure," Jaskier happily chatters back in the same familiar tone. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He asks and reaches for his pack. Might as well take his lunch break now, while the fruit he bought earlier this day are still fresh. Death answers his question with an agreeing hum and oh yes, Jaskier might just fall in love with them right then and there.

He focuses on his lunch and wills his foolish heart to calm. "Would you like some?" he asks Death, because his Mama raised him well and eating alone is never quite as enjoyable as sharing a meal. Death looks at him with amusement in their eyes. "I can not eat, but I appreciate the gesture."

Jaskier sighs, "What a pity."

"A small price to pay for a life like mine."

"You're alive?"

"I am here, am I not?"

He looks at Death wide eyed, a hundred thoughts stumbling through his mind at the same time. "I have so many questions."

"And I have a favor to ask of you, sweetheart," Death retords not unkindly. Throughout their short conversation the amusement never quite left their eyes and while Jaskier would normally feel patronized by such a look he somehow knows that Death is simply enjoying his company.

"Are we doing this right? Doesn't this whole asking for a favor thing usually go the other way around?" Death laughs and Jaskier's heart does a little jump, his fingers itch to write a new song. "You read too much, sweetheart."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as reading too much."

"The words of a scholar and a poet."

"At your service."

"Of course. I always get what I want," Death says knowingly, shoving yet another metaphorical box of Pontar towards Jaskier. Lucky for him he has long since learned to not think about these kind of things too much. It does feel a little bit like Death tricked him, though he loves a good repartee. "I have to admit, I am curious indeed. What could I possibly offer to you?"

Death turns their head away from him, looking at the dog in deep consideration. "I need..." Death pauses and Jaskier almost wants to think of it in a hesitant way, "to win a bet." The bard's shoulders drop immediately. "Ah," he says, because the hesitation now starts to make sense. Surely Death must know this of him. "I don't do bets, I'm afraid. It never ends well for the poets caught in between."

"I know," Death agrees easily and not very reassuringly, as a matter of fact. "But I am in need of a song. A song to bring the gods to tears and neither can I write nor sing. What I can do, is offer you my protection."

Jaskier's mind floods with thoughts.

Protection from Death.

The two of them stare into each other's eyes, the world around them timeless, everlasting. Finally, it is Jaskier who breaks the contact and returns to his bundle of food. He bites into a fruit, it's sweet juices run down his chin and drip onto his chemise. "I will make the gods weep," he declares and watches Death smile full of warmth.

[frownyalfred]

Bruce giving all his kids little forehead kisses when they sleep or when he's to sleep-deprived to realize he has gone on the tip of his toes to kiss Clark's forhead too and is now attempting to kiss Alfred's forehead

Bruce pressed a brief kiss to Dick’s forehead, stepping away from the medbay cot.

Alfred watched, bemused, as Bruce — more sleep deprivation than man, currently — rocked up onto the tops of his toes and did the same to Clark, who was perched by the doorway.

Jason — Clark’s height, and easily mistakable for the Kryptonian when one barely had their eyes open — cleared his throat awkwardly.

Bruce’s eyes cracked open. He slowly looked between Jason and Clark, who was staring at the floor with color rising in his cheeks.

“Hn.”

Alfred closed his eyes, accepting his fate with a shocked inhale. Bruce’s lips grazed his forehead, a there-and-gone blessing.

Three days of sleep deprivation and an injured child were enough to drive most men to madness and despair.

Bruce, it seemed, had been pushed to the worst of cliff edges — open displays of physical affection.

[kryptonian-bat-thing]

Superman shows up at the Hall of Justice as everyone is minding their own business. Flash, Cyborg and Green Lantern are chatting by the cafeteria while Martian Manhunter and Aquaman are watching Hawkgirl spar with Wonder Woman.

The Man of Steel stops by each member and hands them a card and a box, each one decorated accordingly to their themes and likings.

"Happy Valentine's!" his smile flashes as he speaks. Tilting his head and turning to the sides, he then lifts an eyebrow. "Where's B?"

"Didn't show up today," Flash replies, unraveling the pretty lightning themed bow that held his gifted box shut. "Try checking the monitor room."

"He is not here. Perhaps he is patrolling Gotham at this hour." J'onn adds after a quick psychic scan, smiling to see the Oreo dessert that Superman got for him in his gift box.

Kal wishes them all a happy Valentine's day once again, before exiting and soaring to the sky in Gotham's direction. The early night settled in with the melting snow as he held close the last boxes on his strong hands.

"Superman!" a familiar voice reaches him, from the top of a sky scraper. He lowers himself to float near a small figure on top of a gargoyle.

"Hello, Robin! Have you seen Batman around?"

The small boy ties his thick eyebrows in a scowl. They are so much like his father's, Superman chuckles internally at the resemblance.

"Don't worry," he opens a friendly grin to the boy "I brought something for you as well. Jon sends his regards." Handing the smaller box to the boy, a flashy card with an attempted portrait drawn attached to it. Although he pretends he can't, Kal notices the hitch on the kid's heartbeat when he grabs and takes a look at the gift.

A nod as thanking, the boy wonder jumps off and grapples, disappearing into the Gotham night. Kal follows him with his head.

As he faces the dark, a known heartbeat comes behind him, in the shadows. He plays as though he can't hear it, waiting for the sign to acknowledge the Dark Knight's presence.

"Superman." it's broody as always, but not as cold as when they first met. A subtle fondness hides under the growling bat, as the hero swirls around to face it.

"Hey, B." he steps on the gargoyle as the other comes close to it as well. "Happy Valentine's."

"I told you not to wander into my city like that." lifting an eyebrow, the bat claims with his arms crossed over his chest. His gauntlets are dirty, as if he's just out of some punching and kicking criminals. Superman's sapphire eyes meet the cowl lenses with awkwardness as he fidgets with the last box.

It is black and wrapped with a bow with yellow hearts. It's no bigger than his two hands, but it feels like holding his own heart as he sticks it out for his best friend to grasp.

As Batman does so, his face twitches almost unnoticeably for anyone who isn't as close to the man as Superman is. He opens it slowly and gives into the urge to smile, a light smirk pulled on the edge of his lips.

"You shouldn't have." the Knight jokes, lifting up the silly plushies gifted by his friend. It's a Batman and a Superman plushie, but the man soon notices that they are united by some sewn strings on their stubby hands. Something is embroidered on them: Super Friends. The Bat can't help but chuckle.

"I know it's corny, but I thought it was fitting." the kryptonian approaches even more, his grin brighter than the sun itself. Batman traces over the message with his dark gloves, feeling how fresh and homemade these are compared to the rest of the plushies' sews.

He closes the gap between their faces, two figures on the inky skyline professing their closeness to each other. He hadn't even glanced at the clearly bought cards that said "you are my hero" and "be my Valentine".

[windsweptinred]

Dear Mr Sandman....

(A cold December evening, in a small cozy flat above the New Inn, London.)

Hob: So... My Saturday girl, Rachel. She volunteers at the local library, helps with afterschool sessions. I... may have suggested an activity for the kids. You, Mr Sandman have mail!

Dream:.... Mail?

Hob: (Hands over a neat stack of letters and a small accompanying box). Yup! These are for you!

(Dream carefully unfolds the top letter and begins to read...)

Dear Mr Sandman

Thank you very much for all my dreams this year. My favorite was the one with the bubble rhinoceros. I have drawn a picture of him for you. I hope you like it. Mummy says if I draw anymore of my dreams she'll leave them on the kitchen table for you to collect. Sorry if our dog Charlie barks at you when you come, he likes to bark at strangers but is really friendly. You can find his ball in the top draw. He'd love to play with you. I've told him to be a good boy and you'll give him nice dreams.

Love from

Rosalie Mitchell and Charlie the dog

Dear Mr Sandman

Thank you for all your hard work this year. You must be really busy giving everyone dreams. Do you know Santa and the Tooth Fairy? We always leave Santa milk and cookies and the Tooth fairy teeth to say thank you. I didn't know what you liked so I gave Miss Feean a tub of my favorite magic sand. It's rainbow coloured so should make really good dreams. If you like it, tell Miss Feean and I'll ask Daddy to get some more for you.

Alex Southerns

Dear Mr Sandman

Thank you for letting me still see Grandma when I'm sleeping. I miss her alot. She looks very happy so I know you and the angels are taking good care of her. Tell her Amy says to give you a big hug from me. She gives the best hugs.

Thank you

Amy Haywood

Dear Mr Sandman

Thank you for my dreams. Except the one about the angry dinosaur, I don't like that one. Can you tell him to leave me alone as he is very mean and makes me upset. Are nightmares very naughty dreams? We have red and yellow cards at school. If you're a bit naughty, you get a yellow card and if you're very very naughty you get a red one. You should do that. And give gold stars to all the dreams that are really good. Tell the dinosaur I'll give him my gold star I got for my spelling test if he is good.

Big hugs

Louise Winters.

Dear Mr Sandman

Thank you for looking after me this year. I'm sad a lot, Henry Oakwell in year 6 is really mean to me. And I find school really hard. I'm not good at my school work and don't have a lot of friends. Mummy has to work a lot and I don't want her to worry about me. But you always give me really nice dreams that make me feel really happy. Being the Sandman sounds lonely, are you lonely? My Teddy really helps me when I'm lonely. I can't give you my Teddy but I've made you one out of playdough. Its ear feel off but Miss Feean says she'll put it back on with some glue. I hope he's really nice to you and is a good friend like my Teddy.

From

Tommy Brien

Dream: I don't understand?

Hob: Well, if Santa gets all that praise for one night of wish fulfillment, I reckoned you deserved a little acknowledgement for doing it since the dawn of time.

Dream....May I keep these?

Hob: They've got your name on them Duck. And I'm sure there's more where that came from.

Dream: I.... (Subtly tries to wipe a tear aside) Thank you.

Hob: (Smiles softly) Don't even mention it darling.

[shadowgale96]

I know it probably wouldn’t happen based on how XL acted when mount tonglu. But imagine how funny is would be if XL was instinctively very physically defensive when it came to his chastity.

Like imagine HC and XL are slowing trying to get more intimate and XL just headbutts him off the bed. XL is very apologetic and embarrassed about it. But HC shrugs it off and says it’s no problem. They’ll work on it. What’s important to him is that XL is comfortable.

But they keep hitting that same snag. During every romantic moment XL will end up kicking, flipping, or throwing HC. Once literally launching HC through a door. Eventually, it comes to a head during a kissing session. Seconds after their hands begin to roam, XL flips HC and executes a perfect German suplex. Which knocks HC clean out.