#before Getting To Business

[moonsglare]

nsft utc

no thoughts head empty just chasca who for as long as you’ve dated her has only ever made love to you, sweet and gentle, hands intertwined with yours and lips by your ear whispering the sweetest things as she makes you cum over and over on her cock. she treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, worships you, always putting your pleasure before hers—not to say that she doesn’t get her fill either. more often than not she cums so hard her vision blanks for a few seconds as her dick pulses in your warm, wet, squeezing cunt. chasca is entirely satisfied with the state of your sex lives as it is; however, that voice in her head believes otherwise.

it croons at her as she rolls her hips into yours over and over, whispering terrible things into her ears. bite them, the voice encourages, cover their neck in your mark, let everyone know they’re yours. she shuts it out by burying her face in the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent, but sometimes it just makes the voice more insistent. wouldn’t their voice sound so nice screaming, howling your name? wouldn’t they look so lovely on their hands and knees, arching and begging for your cock? wouldn’t they look so, so pretty crying for you?

the only thing holding her back is the fact that you haven’t agreed to any of it, and she would rather go for another war in the night kingdom before ever doing that. but, if you do insist… archons above does chasca fuck you into the mattress. your peacekeeper’s gentle, relaxed thrusts are gone, replaced by ruthlessly deep and harsh ruts of her hips against yours, grinding her dick as far she can go in you. her hand rests on your nape, pushing your upper body down into the pillows while her other hand grips your hip, holding it up. your back curves in a beautiful crescent that has chasca biting back the snarl of a swear as she drives her cock in and out of your greedy, dripping cunt until she finally finishes, filling you with thick ropes of pearly cum to the point it leaks out around the seal if your lips around her dick as her teeth sink into your shoulder just enough to draw pinpricks of blood.

and she does this over and over until you’re thoroughly marked and that stupid voice in her head is thoroughly sated. as she cleans you up, a little apologetic, she thinks that even though she disagrees with the voice on nearly all aspects of life, it was right about one thing—you look damn fucking good all marked up by her.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[neapenning]

First morning on the Express 🚂

[psicheanima]

Be saved by birthing, or else be silent

[punymarshmallow]

[ekholocationn]

something something jokes come in threes

[kikker-oma]

I’m not doing whumptober this year (to my great sorrow) but here’s a peace offering😌

[hinamie]

someone asked if i had ever drawn gojo with his scars, now i have :>

[starry-bi-sky]

the moment im able, Danny and Bruce are going to be annoying each other On Purpose SO much in WTNS. I have an arsenal of non-bat related nicknames for Bruce on standby (that is steadily collecting more as i come across them) and ready for my disposal

Danny: Batman. Batman. Bruce: oh we’re going full name now. Danny: Batman. Bruce: hm. Danny: lean down for me Bruce, doing just that indulgently: hm? Danny, grabbing him by the shirt collar: dont start throwing stones in glass houses, batboy [Bruce was teasing him about wearing flannels]

+

Danny: mind you, i have unmitigated access to your closet Bruce: ah. i see. of course

+

Danny: sir, you are dressed as a bat, choose your next words carefully Bruce: 🤨 Danny: trust me i have nothing but respect for your commitment to the bit, but Danny: you are still dressed as a bat Danny: and i am not above taking potshots

+

Danny makes a point to thwap Bruce on the ankles with his cane when he's being annoying/a dumbass/because it's funny. Sometimes it lands, sometimes Bruce hops out of the way before that. Bruce hopping away leads to Danny continuing to try and thwap him until he succeeds

Playfighting is also a thing. And by playfighting i mean Danny is trying to bop Bruce, and Bruce is blocking him via batting his hands away. Danny will not stop until he's successfully poked Bruce in the ribs

+

bruce:…what are you doing danny, faux-punching bruce in the side. and by that i mean he is poking him the side/arm with his fists and quietly making "pow-pow-pow" noises. it doesnt even do any damage he's pr much just tapping him: danny, still faux-hitting him: bothering you danny, pausing: is it working bruce, trying not to smile:…no danny: damn danny: [goes back to faux-hitting him]

+

Danny: [playfully putting his hands up defensively] Bruce: thats not how you do that Danny: you think im going for accuracy? [one-sided slap fight ensues]

[neverbelessthan]

SEVERANCE 2x10 / 1x04 | "Whatever this life is, it's all that we have."

[numbuh424]

Day 6 & 7 of @dnrarepairweek | Prompts: PROXIMITY & JUDGEMENT

We interrupt this showdown to bring you an intervention ft. Near and Light who have a serious discussion about where their colleagues' priorities lie.

[shotmrmiller]

kyle asking price and johnny what's up with simon having his earbuds in and phone in hand the moment they touch foot on base because before last week, he hadn't even known simon had a phone.

how did you think he got in contact with people?

i just figured he didn't.

anyway, price just shrugs and says, "gotta new girl or somethin'." johnny nods absently, lips twisted in thought.

"somethin' like tha'."

sure enough, come dinner time he can hear a higher pitched voice carrying a sense of urgency or excitement, he can't make out which it is, words coming out in a rapid fire manner.

accent is distinct too, colloquialism that hints at a different region or even country, peppered with slang he's only ever read online.

curious but it's nice to know someone's come to get to know the big man past his rough (and he means bloody rough) exterior.

he quickly tunes it out after, of course, not wanting to intrude on personal matters. but then it's a rare moment when simon's without them.

kyle manages to get snippets then.

(hey, love, just making some dinner; your favorite, actually. shrimp pasta alfredo.)

price taps him on the shoulder and he turns away, snapping back to reality. in the back of his mind, he vaguely remembers simon having an aversion to seafood.

he must be remembering wrong.

in the debrief room while they wait for price, he catches another.

(actually just finished unpacking the last of my stuff. you were a real help with this, i would've hated having to pay for movers.)

kyle recalls seeing simon haunting the hallway as per usual. he must've taken a time off.

on the way to the local strip club. why simon's there at all is a choice but his relationship with you is none of his business.

(yeah, uhm, i'm home and i checked the windows and bathroom like you taught me too. i still can't shake that feeling, yknow? i don't mean to worry you.)

since simon isn't talking to them about it, he must be getting rid of that issue soon. good on him. at least one of them gets to go back to a warm home and a soft pair of thighs.

(kyle doesn't question the other male voice in the call. nor does he question why simon isn't saying a word during it. simon's relationship with you is none of his business. he just hopes he'll get an invitation to the wedding.)

[morganbritton132]

I love the thought of ‘The JLA doesn’t know Batman has kids’ overlapping with ‘Bruce is a single father of multiple children.’

Like, the JLA is about to send out a search party because Batman is five minutes late to a meeting when he shows up with a police report, satellite pictures, and a coloring book.

Green Arrow: …Is that a coloring book? What’s that for?

Batman:

Batman: Coloring.

They’re aiding in the cleanup after a battle in Metropolis. Superman is being interviewed when Lois’ pen stops working. Supes asks, “Batman, do you have something to write with?”

In Bruce’s utility belt, he has a confiscated yo-yo, three broken colored pencil recently removed from the flesh of two different kids, and a Wayne Enterprises pen that Tim scribbled an ‘-ED’ after so it says WEED. Bruce gives Lois the pen and then disappears.

One day, Batman is working on something at the Watchtower. Barry is reaching to pour his second cup of coffee for the day when Bats says without looking up, “Don’t you dare.”

Barry did not dare. He pulled his hand back.

Unbeknownst to Barry, Bruce was on coms listening to his children argue about the physics of a crime scene and Dick had just suggested they test a theory by throwing one of them off the roof handcuffed.

[chara-55]

"It was BOTH of us that tore your precious Skywarp to pieces, All for his useful metals!!! Wake up from your naïveté Thundercracker! This universe is only for the strong!"

You remind me of someone...my precious Skywarp

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

It's a quiet afternoon, one spent reading your new book, mending some of your torn clothes and dozing off occasionally.

A lazy day if ever there was. You're not worried about cooking dinner tonight because you have company coming over with their own. You finish stitching up the hole in one of your thick trousers and gaze outside. It's about time now, if he arrives too late, then he'll have to walk back home in the dark. You wouldn't let him do that, it's a little ridiculous, considering he's a huge orc who knows the woods perfectly well but you'd still force him to sleep on the couch before letting him leave.

That idea makes you smile, such a massive man snuggled up on your old reliable couch. Just when you think you should step outside and look for your friend, you hear the distinct jingle of horse reins and a frightened neigh from outside.

This has you on edge immediately. The only times you've heard that is when the king's men search the perimeter between the Orc and Human territories, making sure no one is breaking the land treaties between the two. You hate these men, they claim to be here for your safety but they make you feel the polar opposite whenever they look down at you on their high horses.

You pull on your boots, take a deep breath before stepping outside, preparing yourself for the condescending look the knights always give you, along with thinly veiled sexual remarks about how it must be so hard for you, all alone out here in these scary woods.

That, however, is not what you see when you walk outside. Instead, you feel ice shoot into your veins.

Red seeps into the white snow as an orc, your orc, clutches the wound where an arrow protrudes out of his upper chest. The horse kicks and neigh's as the knight riding it reloads his crossbow.

The ice in your veins suddenly boils, you grab your bow resting near the door along with a handful of arrows and run outside. Notching an arrow, you don't even announce yourself before letting it go. It whizzes through the air and hits the knights' crossbow right out of his hands, he yelps as it falls to the ground, turning angrily towards the offender.

"Get off my land!"

The bleeding Orc looks just as shocked as the knight, who reins his horse back in an attempt to compose himself.

"My lady, I found this beast roaming near your home. I was only-"

"I'll take care of it. Leave."

You're trying to sound as sturdy as possible but it's hard when your friend is bleeding out in front of you.

"but I- "

"It's my land. He's mine. Leave."

Your voice is unwavering, only getting angrier with every syllable as your bow string grows more taught. The knight looks back at the orc, hatred burning, then he looks back at you sceptically. You're itching to let your arrow fly right between his hateful eyes. He's not wearing his helmet, it would be easy.

He's clearly more vulnerable than he's used to, with only his sword at his side, which he couldn't even unsheathe before you let your arrow fly. With a scoff, the knight pulls on his horse's reins and retreats down the snowy slope. You stand stock still, skin shivering under the thin material of your tunic. You have to hold back the urge to shoot your arrow into his back before he disappears into the woods.

Slinging your bow over your shoulder, you sprint over to your friend, who heaves heavy breaths while clutching his chest. You struggle to lift him onto his feet, he grunts at every movement and it makes you want to cry. When you eventually get him up, you both stagger towards the open front door. It's slow and arduous but you eventually get past the door frame and slam the heavy wood shut, dropping your bow to carry his heavy body to the couch.

He slumps down on the couch with a groan. You almost sob with relief when you realise the arrow is in his right side, not his left. Fool of a knight had worse aim than you thought. It doesn't look that deep but there's a lot of blood seeping out.

He's still in life or death mode as tears of pain spill over his pretty eyelashes. You try to calm his heaving breaths, placing a hand on his cheek to bring his attention to you instead of the arrow in his chest. You wipe his tears away and hush comforting words he doesn't even understand. When his breathing slows considerably and his attention is only on you, you wrench the arrow out of his chest in one quick pull.

He howls in pain, and you sob apologies at him, shuffling his overcoat off to unbutton his tunic, the way his blood clings to the material and his skin in sticky strings makes you nauseous.

You lay him down and run off to your small bathroom. You come back with a bunch of bandages, disinfecting ointment, a warm wash cloth and a numbing ointment.

There's so much blood. Your hands are covered in the mixture of blood and water as you dump the cloth in the bowl of lukewarm water. You clean his wound with the wet wash cloth before pouring on a more than generous amount of disinfecting ointment. It burns and he groans, clutching the couch pillow next to his head. This won't be fatal, if you can clean and stitch it properly.

You slather on the numbing cream with the tiny application stick and wait for it to take effect. You turn to your sewing kit on the tiny table in front of the hearth and try in vain to stop your hands from shaking while disinfecting the needle and thread. It doesn't work, you can't stop the trembling. What if you don't disinfect it enough and the wound becomes infected? What if you can't save him like he saved you? What if he dies because of you? What if-

Warmth covers your trembling hand, the heavy weight of the orcs hand grounding you. You look at the orc lying on your couch incredulously, he looks back with a tired smile, sluggishly blinking at you. How can he be so warm when he's bleeding out?

You clutch his hand and take a deep breath. The pounding of your heart is still loud but your hands are calm enough to thread the needle. You wipe the excess numbing ointment off and carefully make the first incision. This isn't completely new to you but seeing the bloody red flesh underneath his green skin makes this much harder than when you've had to stitch up yourself.

As you pull the curved needle in and out of his skin, you can tell he's trying not to grunt or flinch even though it hurts.

When you make the final incision, you both let out heavy sighs. He rests his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes, as you bandage the wound with gauze and more antibacterial ointment. You look up at his resting eyes and when you realise he hasn't moved for a while you panic and pat his cheek a bit desperately.

He grunts awake, grasping your hand and squinting at you like you just interrupted a midday nap. When he sees your teary eyes and concerned expression, he softens and huffs amusedly. You yank back your hand, anger simmering, how can he think this situation is amusing?

You hate how he's barged into your life and lit an uncomfortable fire in your chest that you can't put out. There's so much more to be confused and fearful about now with him in your life. What if the knight comes back with reinforcements? Would you have to fight to be together? What does 'together' even mean?

You let a hot tear fall to the ground and sniffle angrily. It's all so overwhelming, before him, you never needed to feel this much. His hand reaches out and you feel the warmth envelope your cheek, lifting your gaze to his. His eyes hold so much he could never translate, yet you find you understand perfectly. He wipes away an oncoming tear, only for you to let out another sob.

You clutch his hand to your cheek, your other hand holds his forearm close,

"I think I love you."

You utter into his palm, the devastating truth weighs heavy on you. You don't actually intend for him to ever know what it means but when you look up at his wide eyes and shocked face, you realise he didn't need a translation.

He leans up on the shoulder of his uninjured side and pulls you closer with the hand on your cheek. You're halfway through reprimanding him for moving too much when your words catch in your throat as he pulls you inches away from his face. He mumbles something in orcish and although you don't know what he said, you're pretty sure you know what he means.

You lightly touch your forehead to his before, rather timidly, kissing him. He kisses back with purpose, it takes a minute for you to properly ease into the intimate action, the soft warmth of his lips makes it easier than you'd ever imagined. He keeps his movements slow and gentle, you feel his tusks against your cheeks as you deepen the kiss.

When you separate for air he grins and nuzzles his forehead to yours, it's such a playful gesture, it makes you laugh rather breathlessly. You've never cried so much before meeting him, but you also never laughed as much. He places cheeky kisses on your forehead, nose and lips before you have to push his scruffy stubbled face away so you can hide your own burning hot face in your hands just to console your rapidly beating heart. He rests his head back onto the couch pillow with the same tired eyes as before, except now a dumb, self-satisfied grin adorns his face.

You ignore his amusement, climbing onto your way-too-small couch next to him. You lay your head over his heart, hearing the rhythmic beats. He holds you close and lets out a pleased grumble before his eyes flutter closed and he dozes off once more. You stay awake for some time, staring at the orc on your couch, his pretty carved tusks, his soft lips, his bare chest, his dark hair. It's sometime before you eventually doze off against his chest, lulled asleep by the up and down motion of his chest as he dreams.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

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[hollis-art]

look at them go, the majestic creatures