#LOOK AWAY KIDDOS

[rebouks]

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Jude: I think I wanna do ballet. [Ivan chuckled, tightening Jude’s laces with a swift yank] Jude: Don’t laugh! Boys can do that too-.. right? Ivan: Y’can do anythin’ y’want, bud. Jude: I wouldn’t have to wear a tutu, would I? Ivan: Not unless y’wanted to. Jude: I don’t think I wanna wear anything frilly-.. none of the men in the video I found were wearing one. Ivan: Been doin’ some research, eh? [Ivan tried to hide it, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face completely] Jude: You’re still laughing! Ivan: I ain’t! It’s just-.. you wouldn’t suddenly be interested in ballet ‘cause a certain lil’ lady J is, would ya? Jude: No! Ivan: Right. Jude: Do you think she’d be impressed though? Ivan: What d’you reckon-.. would you be impressed if someone faked an interest in somethin’ you liked? [Jude supposed not, causing him to frown thoughtfully] Jude: Oh-.. maybe not. Ivan: In my experience, folk like it better when you don’t pretend. Jude: I thought that’s what boys are supposed to do? They’re always tryna impress girls in movies n’ stuff, and Gavin’s always telling everyone about the amazing stuff he does or buying mom fancy things that make her squeal. Ivan: I wouldn’t pay much mind t’all that nonsense, bud. Ivan: The best way t’make friends is t’spend time with folk n’ be yourself-.. the odd compliment here n’ there wouldn’t go amiss though, hm? [Ivan chuckled to himself as he guided Jude’s wobbling form toward the roller rink-.. ballet, pfha!]

[002yb]

For as rough as his brother's hands can be, they're gentle with him. Even when Ace couldn't return the kindness, Luffy endured him; holding fast to clenched fists and knuckles that were split and swollen. Persistent, stubborn even after Luffy pried his hand into Ace's and grit his teeth through the ache of Ace's bruising grips. Whining because he was a crybaby and it hurt, but never pulling away. Only squeezing just as tight in playful retaliation. Smile wide as he coaxed Ace's fingers out of their vice grip to clasp their hands together - warm and soft in a way that made Ace flinch. Because while there was dirt beneath Luffy's nails, there was blood beneath his.

And in spite of that—in spite of everything—Luffy never let go of him. Whether or not Ace feels worth that love and tender devotion, Luffy holds on to him: hands clasped together as Luffy beckons him on new adventures, a reassuring squeeze whenever Ace wavers, a bruising grip when Luffy is overcome; nails cutting into Ace's skin until Ace soothes him. Lips ghosting over knuckles - swollen and split).

Rough, but gentle with Ace. Always.

[c00kietin]

Still in the progress of plotting this jojo oc. Still tryna think of a name for her but she's the younger sis of giorno :>

I don't usually make ocs this tied in to characters in a fandom so itll be trial and error lol

I HATE NAMING CHARACTERS AAGH

[c-kiddo]

hey girl i mean they

[video description: a 5 second clip of a beach that quickly pans up to show a propellor plane flying low overhead.]

[thsc-confessions]

"Me and my best friend used to joke about how Sven and Rupert's hair are actually wigs" submitted by @sky-kiddo

[hirazuki]

Pressure Game [snippet]

Solf J. Kimblee & Edward Elric | T | Briggs Arc | canon divergent | angst, hurt no comfort | one-shot

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

2nd November 1914 Baschool

The world is wiped away by white, as the snowstorm that has been threatening all day fully descends upon Baschool.

Glass panes rattle and ice starts to spread its long, thin fingers across them, temperature dropping ever lower, and the only indication that night has fallen is the brief glimpse of desaturated darkness in between the bursts of snowflakes that are blowing by, vicious and endless.

Solf has long since abandoned his vigil at the window – the weather won’t be changing anytime soon.

Major Miles has finally sat down too, though he’s at the other end of the room, near the curtained doorway that leads to an adjacent chamber where some of the men from Briggs are – as far away as possible, while still keeping him in his sights. Alphonse Elric is in there as well, sitting on the floor; the cold, presumably, does not affect him.

Everyone else is scattered around on chairs and boxes and crates, any surface as long as it’s elevated from the freezing concrete, using their current predicament as a chance to rest; half-dozing, with that alert idleness that anyone who has served in the military possesses. Even the rather murderous tension that has been directed towards him and his men from the northern contingent of their party has settled down to a simmer – he has been careful to encourage this by keeping his hands gloved. There’s no sound other than the howling of the wind and the stubborn durability of the building and the occasional shift of fabric or wood when someone readjusts themselves.

Still, they’re giving him a wide berth. There are only two tables in this room and the one he’s at is empty, save for himself and the sole person who has been the subject of his silent attention for the past ten minutes.

“What?” Edward Elric eventually demands, after an incredibly entertaining display of quietly mounting irritation. Just like his alchemy and his sense of style, the single-word question is loud and flashy.

Solf blinks at him.

“I was just thinking that you surprised me, earlier,” he offers honestly, his own voice soft and level. “Given your determination to not kill, I had expected you to react a little differently to the deaths you caused – or does it only upset you when your participation is more direct?”

Predictably, and painfully so, this strikes a nerve with his grudging conversation partner. “How the hell was it my fault, when it was Scar who blew up the building?!”

Solf raises a finger to his lips and pointedly looks at the nearest sleepers, a pair of Briggs soldiers who are slumped against each other, rifles cradled and eyes closed: Do keep it down, Edward. Some people are trying to rest. 

The boy scowls and drops back down into his seat, grumbling under his breath – colorful curses, no doubt – as he sullenly slides the chair back to where it had been before his outburst knocked it away.

“Come now, Fullmetal, let’s not pretend,” he says, in as inoffensive and reasonable a tone as he can manage. A bit of strategic deception is one thing, but it’s a fine line between that and hypocrisy; and, while he’ll periodically engage in the former himself, he has absolutely no tolerance for the latter. “Scar taking Winry hostage is an awfully convenient way to get her away from me.”

“Have you lost your mind, Kimblee?” Fullmetal hisses, at least trying to temper his volume this time, though not relinquishing any of his anger. Anger at what, precisely, is unclear – at Solf? At Scar? At the situation in general, or at himself? All of the above to some degree, probably. “How does this benefit me, exactly? She’s still a hostage! And, unlike before, now I don’t even know where she is!”

“And why would Scar take a hostage?” he replies smoothly. “That’s a rather drastic change from his mode of operation thus far, isn’t it?”

“Whatever,” the boy snipes and sinks into his large red coat, crossing his legs at his ankles and his arms over his chest. “Shows what you know.”

Solf tries his best to suppress a smirk – for all that Edward Elric may be a state alchemist, and a genius of one at that, he is still just a child; and he is petulant and quick to accuse others of ignorance, as most teenagers are. He loses the fight, but as he is in no mood to come to blows with the boy, he raises the thermos that Heinkel gave him, hiding his mouth behind its lip and savoring the trail of hot liquid that pours down his throat. (Where the man found rose-infused black tea in this abandoned building, he has no idea – chimeras can be wondrously useful creatures.) 

“But you’re right,” Fullmetal continues, unexpectedly. “Up until recently – hell, even just last week – it would have been different.”

It’s a blatant attempt at misdirection, if Solf’s ever seen one – the verbal equivalent of throwing dirt in someone’s eyes. He is tempted, for a moment, to point it out and chide the lack of finesse it’s done with, but he does confess curiosity. And he did ask, after all – it would be terribly rude not to hear the boy out. There will be time enough for Scar and for Fullmetal’s little games tomorrow, weather permitting, so he allows the conversation to circle back to the beginning, undisturbed except for his polite prodding of it. 

“What changed?”

“A talk I had with someone,” Fullmetal says. “She gave me some advice.”

“Oh?” he prompts. 

“‘Don’t avert your eyes from death and never forget the people you’ve killed, because they’ll never forget you,’” the boy recites, staring down fiercely at the wood of the table in front of him. “I’ve never killed anyone myself, but there have been plenty of people who have died because they got mixed up with me. And I think that – ”

Fullmetal is still talking but Solf has stopped listening because, suddenly, the thermos of hot tea that he is holding is a tin cup of the world’s most tragic coffee, thin and lukewarm – dreadful at the time, perfect in his dreams – and the blizzard outside that is shaking the windows is a sandstorm tearing through the desert and beating at their tents, and, if he closes his eyes, he can practically taste the heat and the dry air, tinged with sun and blood and gunfire; smell the smoke, rising from the most recent district to fall to his and the Flame Alchemist’s hands. 

There’s only one place where Edward Elric could have heard those words – ‘she,’ he’d said – and the thought tickles him, thoroughly. 

Did the Hawk’s Eye internalize his words that much, that now she is passing them onto others? He’d thought that he’d seen something, hard and unyielding and glinting like gunmetal, behind those watery, wide brown eyes with their whites flashing, looking like they belonged on the wrong end of a firearm – but people disappoint all too often, so he hadn’t placed much hope in her learning from the experience. 

Apparently, he’d been wrong.

Solf loves being wrong – in the proper circumstances, of course; because, when done properly, it’s refreshing and fascinating, leading to new doors, new experiences, new possibilities within the margins of this world. This instance, in particular, is so singularly delicious, that he completely forgets his earlier admonition of Fullmetal and, somewhat loudly, begins to laugh.

“What’s so funny, you bastard?”

“Oh, no, no,” he rushes to reassure him, breathlessly, “I’m not laughing at you or your friend, and certainly not at the sentiment – believe me.”

Fullmetal's frown deepens, and he looks like he's doing anything but.

Solf bites down on the mirth that seeks to overwhelm him, but although he can rein in his laughter and steady his voice, he is helpless about the sharp grin that has spread across his face, its corners cutting high into his cheeks.

“I simply find myself amused at life,” he explains cheerfully. “It can really be so peculiar, can’t it?”

[senseimercy]

SEXUAL  PREFERENCES

bolded  are  applicable / almost  always  ;  italics  are  dependent  on  circumstance  or  partner / sometimes  ;  strikethrough  are  hard  limits / never.

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  / 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒.

is  submissive  | is  dominant  |  prefers  to  top  |  prefers  to  bottom  |  likes  to  switch  |  identifies  as  heterosexual  |  identifies  as  homosexual  |  identifies  as  bisexual  |  identifies  as  pansexual  |  identifies  as  demisexual  |  identifies  as  asexual  |  enjoys  sex  with  men  |  enjoys  sex  with  women  |  enjoys  sex  with  any  sex  /  gender  |  enjoys  sex  with  aliens  |   enjoys  sex  with  androids  |   enjoys  sex  with  monsters  |  enjoys  sex  with  multiple  people  at  once  | initiates |  waits  for  partner  to  initiate  |  spits  | swallows  |  prefers  sex  in  the  morning  |  prefers  sex  at  night  |  will  have  sex  anytime  |  no  sex  drive  |  low  sex  drive  |  average  sex  drive  | high  sex  drive |  hypersexual  |  fluctuating  sex  drive

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘  /  𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

small  build  |  medium  build  |  athletic  build  |  muscular  build  |  curvy  build  |  voluptuous  build  |  wears  boxers  |  wears  briefs  |  wears  lingerie  |  goes  ‘ commando ’ |  shaves / waxes  |  manscapes  |  doesn’t  shave / wax  |  cup  size  a – c   |  cup  size  d – f  |  1 – 5"  in  length  |  6 – 9″  in  length  |  10”  or  over  in  length

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒.

is  silent / makes  little  to  no  sounds  |  is  very  quiet  |  is  very  loud  |  grows  in  volume  over  time  |  bites hand / partner / pillow  to  muffle  themselves  |  calls  out  partner’s  name  |  curses  |  growls  |  fakes / exaggerates |  prefers  a  quiet  partner  |  prefers  a  loud / appropriately  vocal  partner  | prefers  a  responsive  partner |  is  turned  on  by  dirty  talk  | is  turned  off  by  dirty  talk

𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍  𝐎𝐍𝐒  /  𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒.

having  their  hands  pinned  |  pinning  their  partner’s  hands  | having  their  hair  pulled |  pulling  their  partner’s  hair |  being  watched  ( by  their  partner )  |  being  watched  ( by  a  third  party ) | watching  their  partner  |  receiving  oral  |  giving  oral |  calling  their  partner  ‘ daddy ’ |  being  called  ‘ daddy ’  |  calling  their  partner  ‘ mommy ‘ |  being  called  ‘ mommy ‘  |  calling  their  partner  ‘ master ‘ |  being  called  ‘ master ‘  |  calling  their  partner  ‘ mistress ‘  |  being  called  ‘ mistress ‘  |  calling  their  partner  ‘ sir ’  |  being  called  ‘ sir ’  | giving  praise  |  receiving  praise  | biting / marking |  being  bitten  /  marked | spanking |  being  spanked  | teasing | being teased |  having  toys  used  on  them  | using  toys  on  their  partner  |  giving anal  |  receiving  anal  |  choking  |  being  choked  |  dirty  talk | being  tied  up  |  tying  their  partner  up  |  being  worshiped  |  worshiping  their  partner  |  humiliating  |  being  humiliated  |  degrading  |  being  degraded  |  being  pegged  |  pegging  their  partner  |  being  edged  |  edging  |  age gap  |  anonymous  sex  |  blood  play  |  breeding  |  chastity devices |  clothed / partially clothed |  deep - throating  |  gun  play  | intercrural  sex  |  knife  play  |  lingerie  |  nipple  play  |  orgasm  denial  |  overstimulation |  pregnancy  |  prostate milking  |  public  sex |  rimming | roleplay  |  sadism / masochism  |  size  difference |  slapping  | being  slapped |  spitting  on  /  in  mouth  |  being  spit  on  /  in  mouth  |  squirting

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒.

airplane  |  alleyway  |  bath |  beach  | bedroom  |  boat  |  bus  |  car  |  cathedral / church  |  cemetery  |  closet |  concert  |  dressing room  |  elevator  |  empty  or  abandoned  building  |  field  |  forest  |  gym  |  home  bathroom  |  hospital  |  kitchen  |  library  |  movie  theatre  |  museum  |  ocean  |  parking lot  |  planetarium  |  pool  |  public bathroom  | rooftop |  school  |  sex  club  |  shower  |  tent  |  terrace  |  train  |  workplace  |  dojo

[six-eared-gremlin-ao3]

I hate politics, but my life literally hangs on this; we can't do better if Trump gets back in office. If he gets back in it's Game Over for anyone who isn't a straight white cisgendered Christian man. Women, Queer People, POC, Non-Christian- we won't stand a chance-

I have to vote for Biden not because I like him or what he's doing, but because the alternative will either kill me or make me wish I was dead, along with so many people I know.

We can't fix anything if he wins. Go and vote.

Okay in the midst of this I do wanna say that this absolutely WILL get Trump even MORE support.

So, here's what you're gonna do, okay:

GO. FUCKING. VOTE.

[is-not-a-bell]

Sleepy King

The Justice League Dark caught wind of a cult trying to summon the Ghost King. A being with power so terrible and great, that all of the chaotic Infinite Realms feared him. A true tyrant. Long ago it took the effort of ghosts equal to gods to seal him away into a permeant slumber.

And now this cult wishes to wake him and bring him to the living realm. It was a race against the clock to find the ritual site and all members were called on board, magic or not. Even Constantine looked stressed.

They did find the site.

But it was too late, the ritual was completed. The entire inner circle of runes glowed before being swallowed in a column of green light. The air filled with static and a ringing that made Supergirl crumble to the ground.

The light dissipated, but there was no great figure or being of pure evil. Instead there was a boy, a teenager. He laid on the ground curled up in his sleep. He was a ghost no doubt, dressed in regal clothing.

Despite this when he stirred, everyone froze. It seemed the cold hard ground woke him up. He got up slowly and yawned, revealing his sharp fangs. Once sat up he opened his bleary eyes to look around. He looked confused and tired, really tired.

"Where am I?" He mumbled. "I was trying to get some sleep." Constantine internally screaming, latches onto that last sentence. He glances over to Batman. He caught that last part too. Batman approaches calmly and crouches down in front of the boy king. Hardening his resolve, Batman takes on a gentle tone.

"Hey kiddo, sorry we woke you. Lets get you back to bed yeah?" The boy nodded in agreement. He pulled himself to his feet before looking around in a circle. "Where did my blanket go?" He asked rather sadly. Batman is quick to shed his own cape and drape it over him. "You can borrow my cape until we get you a new one." He nodded again, pulling the black fabric around himself.

John quickly summoned a portal door, while Batman led the King through it. John threw looks around at everyone. Everyone could tell he was mouthing the words. 'Find me a fucking blanket now'

Running on the logic of getting the king away from Earth, away from graves and the undead, that could give him power. The portal led to the Watch Tower.

Batman took advantage of the King's bleary state to send a base wide alert for all noncritical members to evacuate immediately. With a priority that death adjacent members leave first. "The stars are pretty." Bruce looked at the boy staring out the window in wonder. He almost looked like a normal kid, almost.

"Yeah they are, it's pretty late so we should get you back to bed." He nodded, going along with Batman's gentle coaxing.

He takes the boy to an unused bedroom. Making sure the room isn't dusty and that lights are dimmed. He glances back to see about a dozen different leaguers all holding blankets, one thought to bring extra pillows. The bed was pretty barren with only a single pillow and a thin bedsheet. So Bruce took a thick duvet, one of the fluffier blankets and a second pillow from his team before shooing them away.

The boy ended up keeping his cape, mumbling how it was warm. He tucked the boy in, before quietly exiting the room and turning off the light. He was pretty sure the King fell back to sleep before he even reached the light switch.

After the door shut, he made direct eye contact with John. "Constantine." They needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

[c-kiddo]

actually so mad i have to make and eat 3 meals a day . i want to be healthy and have the energy from it obviously but im sick of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!😢

[chloelouygo]

Okay fuck it I had to go through one of my old school books because I'm tutoring maths tomorrow and LOOK AT THIS SHIT me rbing this yesterday saying "ohhh I didn't really doodle much maybe a few eyes uwu" BABYGIRL LOOK AT THIS SHIT THESE DRAWINGS AREBOFFICIALLY 10 YEARS OLD 14 YEAR OKD YOU WAS DOING AWFUL PUCTURES OF MISHA FUCKING COLLINS oh my god im crying I'm actually cryinh 😭

As in like what was the default thing you would draw on the margins when you were in class and had no creative ideas? Personally I was a wings and eyes kid. Usually wings though.

Please reblog to increase the sample size!

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror movie-DC x DP prompt

Based on my favorite book series "tales from the gas station"

It's not every day that a mission requires the league to travel to middle America in a bid to obtain a highly cursed artifact but it certainly is today.

Locating the Seal of Silent Ashes was a task usually given to Justice League Dark but Constantine was currently busy. So that meant it was left to the poster boys to get this done. They dressed in civilian attire to investigate the last location of the seal starting with the first building on the edge of town. A small dusty gas station near the woods.

The inside had an awful smell, like death and cleaning fluid. The lights gave off a greenish-blue tint. Rats could be seen out of the corner of your eyes. Most of the chips were offbrand and crappy.

Behind the counter was the teenage boy chewing gum. He looked up at the group before going back to reading his book. He had clearly seen better days but didn't show signs of caring about the state of his hair or bags under his eyes. He drank his coffee.

The air felt off.

"Hey kiddo, do you mind giving us directions?" Clark started.

The kid narrowed his eyes as he popped his gum.

"You're not from here. That or you're from that cult in the woods. Listen I'm not joining. Seriously, cosmic nihilism and fatalism sounds doomed. Hey wait-" the teen checked his notes " No, the cult killed themselves in that mass suicide 2 weeks ago. I forgot, sorry."

The teen didn't say anything else as he went back to his book.

The horrified look of the adults shared was almost hilarious. At least to the teen if he looked up.

"Oh, and stay out of the woods. I don't want the police to come back and ask about who saw you last. Seriously if whatever is in there tears you apart I won't feel bad. I put those signs out forever ago and if I get one more girl covered in blood running in here screaming about her dead friends I'll get a headache." The teen shrugged turning the page.

"What do you mean?! Why would-?! Who's killing people?!" Barry asked frantically as Bruce serched for more reports of missing people in the area.

"I don't know. Why would I know? If you want to go in the cursed forest go ahead. I mean that's how they all die. It isn't my job to stop you. My job is to sit here and watch this store." The teen huffed in annoyance.

Before anymore questions were asked the signal of the radio was disrupted and a demonic howl screeched through the radio.

"God damnit. That cunt is back. Stay here." The teen growled as he grabbed his bat from under the counter and walked out the back door. "String bean! Get off the fucking roof you bastard! You know that radio is all I have here!"

A chattering laugh like a death rattle was heard and the sound of 2 sets of feet was heard on the roof then they lept down.

"Come here so I can beat you to death!" The teen ran around the building towards the front of the gas station chasing-what the fuck is that!

It was like a human that was twisted to crabwalk on all fours backwards. Its face was contorted into a black stretched-out smile with no teeth. It had no eyes just black sockets. All its limbs were stretched out to an extra meter in length. It was a skinwalker of some kind with chalk-white skin. It was skittering away from the teen who was swinging his bat at its head.

"Stop running! I told you before what would happen if I found you fucking with me again!" The boy meant it as he finally landed a hit and began wacking it over and over it.

The skin walker screeched and tried to run for its life but couldn't.

After reducing the monster into a black puddle the black-stained teen came back inside to sit back down not paying anymore to the monster blood he was covered in.

"Sorry about that. Most of the freaks around here have learned to stay away from this place. That one is new and he doesn't listen. You'd think they'd learn but Sting Bean thinks he can torment me. Petty bastard." The teen sighed "anyways are going to buy anything or are you going to waste what oxygen we get in here with this shitty ventilation.

Diana couldn't help but admire the boldness of the boy. He had no hesitation or fear against the beasts of this area even if was crude.

"Does Constantine have a cousin or something? Just a more angry one" Barry whispered to Hal.

[arkangelo-7]

I’m sure someone’s already headcannoned this, but Bruce having pet names for the Batkids? Man, those are his babies—you can bet your ass he has pet names for them. He might not be the type of man to show much affection beyond a shoulder pat or the occasional forehead kiss, but he’s determined to parent the crap outta these orphans, and pet names are an easier medium to show that he cares.

Dick is both “chum” and “sweetheart” depending on the context. When Bruce is feeling playful and comfortable (the easy, “your mine and I’m just happy to be here with you” kind of love), he’ll stick with “chum” and Dick absolutely loves it. But when Dick’s sick or has a nightmare or got injured during patrol? It’s sweetheart. It’s default mode for Bruce, because seeing Dick in pain brings up so many raw, intense emotions (Bruce gets scared, goddamit) that it’s easier for him to say “I’ve got you, sweetheart, it’s okay, just keep your eyes on mine,” then it is to say “I’m so terrified that I’m going to loose you, I love you, you’re my everything.”

Jason is“Jaylad.” But it’s less of the name that’s important and more of the story behind it that is. For the first few months that Jason was in Bruce’s care, Bruce didn’t dare call him anything other then his name, in fear that he’d scare him away (he was already so distrusting, so hesitant, so fearful whenever Bruce talked to loud or moved to fast or got upset), but at the same time, he’d seen how pleased Dick had been at being called “chum” and wanted to bestow a similar endearment on Jason. But—he didn’t want to go to far. So instead of calling him “lad” like his own father had once called him, Bruce calls him “Jaylad.” It’s a little more impersonal, but it makes Jason more comfortable. (But when Bruce cradled his son’s broken body he said “no, darling, not you, don’t leave me—” because just how Dick is “sweetheart,” Jason has also always been “darling.”)

For Tim… it’s more complicated. He shoved his way into Bruce’s life and he’s forever grateful, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Jason and Dick. He sees Tim as his son, of course, but their relationship was built on the darkest, most despairing part of Bruce’s life. But even in that terrible season, Bruce would look over at Tim working on a case or cleaning his suit and say, “Good job, sport.” It doesn’t happen often, but Tim is “sport.”

Cassandra is “love.” Bruce has never said it to her, aloud, but he knows Cass can read him well enough to hear the unspoken endearment, to see how much he longs to protect her, bring her joy, fill her heart with all the love she’s filled his with.

Steph is “duck.” And not necessarily because Bruce decided that it was, but because 9 times out of 10 he finds himself screaming, “Robin, get down!” because Stephanie will not for the love of God follow his orders, and end up right in the line of fire. To save time he eventually just started saying “Duck!” It keeps Steph from getting whacked to high heavens and saves Bruce (another) heart attack, but over the years it’s also become somewhat of a ritual to say “duck” whenever Steph walks in the room. Bruce secretly wants to call her “ducky” (which is what his mother called Kate), but he’s never worked up the nerve.

Duke is “kid.” By the time he’s in the family, Bruce has loosened up and lightened up, especially with everyday affection (which is to say, he’s not avoiding it like the plague). He’s quick to say “Good job, kid” whenever Duke had an accomplishment or ask “how are you today, kiddo?” when they see each other in passing in the Batcave.

Damian, lastly, would never allow Bruce to call him anything other then his name. But every once in a while, Bruce can get away with saying “son.” And it’s the best thing in the world.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Blowjobs with Single Dad!Price 🍆 (🌽 link)

John is absolutely depraved and desperate to ruin a pretty little thing like you. He resisted you for so long, but he could only resist so much. He fucks your face when the kids are asleep. He takes you to the bed that he and his ex-wife used to sleep and and trains you, ruins you for him.

You'd be stripped naked, eyes half-lidded as you wait for your instructions. John settles in bed with his boxers off as you crawl into bed in between his legs. Kissing up his burly, hairy thighs, you make your way to his glistening, touch-starved cock. Tongue poking out, you lick the slit on the tip of his cock, gathering his salty pre-cum on the tip of your tongue. Moaning softly, you savour his taste gradually getting drunk on the idea of being used by him.

Licking a long from the base of his cock to the tip, you make your way down once again peppering it with kisses, saliva coating every inch of it. A breathy cock-drunk chuckle leaves your mouth as you begin to suck his balls one at a time earning a shuddering groan from John. 

While you take your time savouring his fat balls, John grabs the back of your head pulling back to his cock, forcing your head down without a single warning. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you gag on his length. 

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Birdie. Think you can get away with teasing me, hm?” His raspy voice makes it to your ear, moaning around his member. 

Trying to look up at him through glisten eyes, John once again forces his cock down your throat slobbering all over it like a bitch in heat. He hits the back of your head a few times making sure the tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag louder.

John lets out a grunt of disapproval as he hears you get louder, pulling you off his cock giving you a chance to breathe properly. Face flushed, eyes glazed over in bliss, your lips glistening with spit as it trails down your chin and onto your tits, you look at him doe-eyed and remorseful. 

“The kids are bloody sleeping in the other room.” He scowls at you.

Before you could mutter an apology, John shoves his cock back into your mouth all the way down to the hilt as you nuzzle your nose into the end of his happy trail, this time quieter and more dutifully. 

 “Well done. You’re learning fast, Kiddo.”