#saturday fic

[rococospade]

Summary: Laurence and Ludwig continue their adventure in the tunnels, and make some new friends while they're down there. Not that Laurence would consider them friends. In fact he was probably considering arson, but what could you do? Ludwig was really the people person between them.

[emo-batboy]

A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 57 (Masterlist)

Part 58 Coming At Some Point

@bruciemilf

Hey so uhh it's been a while. (If you look closely, squint a little, I literally made some of these photos over a year ago. I feel SICK. This AU is ancient.)

Here’s the SNL episode once again for the uninitiated.

Okay so hear me out. I know a lot of people were excited to see Caleb discover the batcave yada yada but the #1 rule is No One Figures It Out. Otherwise, the entire point of the series is obsolete and it ends. (Tim does find out ofc but not Caleb. None of the main cast. No OCs.) So he gets let go from babysitting Dick and Jason, mostly because Bruce and Alfred realize their mistake, and he never sees the batcave. RIP. ANYWAYS hope y’all forgive me. Didn’t realize I was implying that until everyone started screaming about it in the comments. Caleb is still blissfully unaware :)

No idea when the next part is coming out. I am currently in an airport banging this out before I convince myself not to post it AGAIN but you guys deserve better. It’s the holidays. So Merry December 19th-ish. Peace :)

[rayactive-factory]

fanart for @teamxdark!! based on the descriptions from this story, i loved the outfit designs and white-silver and black-golden colours for them so much <3

[sarcasmcloud]

"Kinda wishin' that I never did Saturday" - Backslide (twenty one pilots)

[1caru]

for my next trick i'll make this rabbit disappear 🪄

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton arrives to the track on qualifying day, abu dhabi - december 7, 2024 📷 jakub porzycki / apimages.com

[ummick]

"Annual pet’s from’s Mick 🤲" - july 6, 2024 📷 @.roscoelovescoco / instagram

[umgeorge]

george russell, p1, during the post-race press conference, las vegas - november 23, 2024

[umseb]

jenson button and sebastian vettel chat in the paddock on qualifying day, monaco - may 28, 2016 📷 james gasperotti / motorsport images

[lilacxquartz]

on display;

suguru geto x reader x satoru gojo

plot: satoru wanted to face time while he was gone, catching you at an awkward time, or was it a good time? — plot: poly dynamics, lap grinding, smut, phone sex/video sex, f!reader — w.c: 900ish

masterlist • ao3 • more smut

Satoru was lately often busy; always needed for missions assigned by the higher-ups who claimed that there was nobody better for the job other than him and him alone. Such inconveniently timed hiccups often left both you and Suguru together all alone—which wasn’t too bad, not at all in fact, but you both missed your frosty ray of sunshine.

Missing the connecting piece to your romantic trio often made both you and Suguru lonely, pushing the two of you to seek out physical affection from each other to numb the ache. He’d often pull you close to him, demanding that you would idly spend time together tethered at the hip or sometimes… find himself in you.

You ground into Suguru’s lap for another night, the soft rolling motions circling languidly over his already erect length that strained tight against his cotton sweatpants. His big, calloused hands hovered parallel to your hips, fiercely smacking the skin of your thighs, casting a ripple within the pillowy flesh.

“Think y’can ride me?” he softly whispered into your neck, his long, silky black hair falling forward as he leaned into you. His voice sounded needy, maybe even desperate to an extent.

You hummed and nodded against his pressed form, letting him guide you up so that you hovered over his unsheathed cock that sprang out the second that he pulled his clothes down. You wiggled down in a teasing zigzag motion, just about ready to flick your hips forward but then you heard it.

That familiar jingle.

Suguru extended his hand to dig through the fabric of your jean pockets that were tossed off somewhere along the side, fishing out your mobile phone as soon as he was able to grab hold of it. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw the caller ID, biting his lip. “Hey, it’s Satoru. Bad time, but maybe worth taking?”

Pausing for just a moment, you took hold of your phone and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning forward while quickly fixing up your hair—just a little bit. You then smiled as you picked up the call, allowing him to tune in. “Aw, hey, Satoru! How are you doing?” you asked in your usual sweet voice.

“I’m so tired like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied, sagging his shoulders into what looked like a hotel armchair. “I have been on my feel all damn day.”

“Yeah?” you replied, mirroring his pout, “they’ve been working you to the ground again?”

Satoru peeled up his blindfold, revealing his weary complexion. Deep blue and purple bags circled beneath his eyes. “You could say that again.”

He was about to say something again but then paused. His exhaustion gave way to quickly building curiosity as he took in the sight of just how… disheveled you looked—as well as the odd position you were in. With a slight raise of one of his eyebrows, he brought the phone closer as though to inspect the situation at hand.

“Are you two about to fuck?” he correctly guessed.

Immediately, you pointed the camera up to the ceiling to hide your laughter, still feeling Suguru’s cock filling out your pussy. Suguru betrayed a soft groan as you tightened around him from such convulsions, but then followed through with some laughter as well. “That obvious, huh?” you giggled, “yeah, yeah, we’re about to—”

“—I miss you both, you know,” Satoru cut you off, his voice adopting a more sultry tone. “I don’t suppose that one of you would be interested in giving me a show? It would help me unwind, you know. Maybe even relax��”

Not needing to be asked twice, Suguru pinched the phone from your grasp and then hovered the device over at a tilt that pointed at a nice, compromising overhead angle. He then mumbled something underneath his breath into your ear, smacking his free hand against the soft contours of your ass, as though to signal for you to pick up where you left off.

You, in turn, got to work right away. You ground and swivelled your hips at a hypnotic tempo, that managed to silence the two men as they watched you work your magic. Suguru couldn’t help but drive himself further into your body, thrusting in perfect rhythm with your fluid motions, letting soft grunts escape his lips as he rutted up towards your hilt. You held on tight—flinging your head forward and shuddering out breathy moans, feeling yourself—losing yourself to the blissful sensation.

Pulling back ever so slightly, you turned his chin over to face yours and pressed a heated kiss against his lips. You invaded his mouth with your tongue with loving passion, while he, too, reciprocated such passing fervour. As this happened, his phone-wielding hand drifted and panned you both out of focus, but Satoru was quick to clear his throat, reminding you both that he was still there. He tried to keep up to his best ability on the other side of the screen, after all. His shoulder slightly trembling and wiggling, hinting that he was stroking himself to the sight on display.

Suguru’s form however soon grew sloppier and you had to take over as the camerawoman, holding the phone at the best angle you could provide. With a stifling, ending thrust, Suguru then grunted in a strained voice before at last coming undone and emptying himself into the confines of your cunt. In doing so, you nearly dropped the phone as you too, finished up, hearing Satoru’s shuddering gasps follow suit as he finally caught up to the two of you.

And after a moment of mutually shared silence, the two of you were just about comfortable enough to all lay in silence and do absolutely nothing at all—all the while Satoru recollected himself with the sight of the two people that he was completely and utterly in love with—frustratingly impossibly far from reach, missing you both extremely so.

[rococospade]

example art for my ko-fi grimoire tier

[rorschachiris]

sokkla saturdays, "Earth": beach blues.

[cintipede]

Martin Blackwood's terrible, no good, very bad 19th november (iteration #67)

fanart based on @formiana 's time loop fic! go check it out its incredible

[rainbowcaleb]

a soft familiar sight

Caleb’s hair is long enough to braid.

It has been for a while, a pleasure Essek has enjoyed intimately. The silver twined with copper makes for a lovely contrast as the strand becomes a twist becomes a weave. Like magic pulled from leylines and coaxed into the exact precision of spells, Essek eases the hair from the catch of pillow and cheek, gently so as to not interrupt the quiet snores of his bedshare. 

Caleb sleeps more than Essek, which could be a lonely endeavor in the early faded light of the morning when trance is not needed anymore, but it is a privilege to watch the rise and fall of a chest at ease. Caleb is beside him and he is quiet, he is at rest. It is an honor to know Caleb is so unbothered, and so Essek busies his hands and stills his now-awake mind with his gentle work. He is up to number five in clever braids, beating his previous record by one. 

He is a metalsmith in another life; perhaps also in this one. Essek loops soft red around his finger, then the next. Rings upon rings that join the one Caleb has already given him. He is careful to twine a precious silver into the band, a reminder of time and of choice. There’s an indent in the pillow on the side Caleb always sleeps; two bedside tables both stacked with their own treasure of books. The extra blanket, crochet carefully mended to keep age away; a gift that keeps Essek’s feet warm and the cats lingering on the bed until breakfast. He slides the hair from his finger, the curl gently heat set from his own touch. Essek tucks it behind Caleb’s ear.

Caleb has a tell, the way his breathing lowers. The unshamed snore quieting, the micro lift of the sides of his mouth.

Essek keeps twirling hair into braids, but there’s a speed that comes with no longer needing to be subtle.

“Schatz, six? Is that a record?” He murmurs. 

Essek could kiss that cheeky grin and so he does. “Counting in your sleep again, Widogast?”

“Is it truly sleep if one’s partner is playing hairdresser?” Caleb’s eyes still lie closed, all orneriness twinkling in the corners of his lips.

Essek drops the long strands and combs his fingers through the crown instead. “Good morning. Do not pretend as if you do not like it.”

Caleb shivers into the scratch. “I have never said otherwise.” He peeks one eyelid open. “Guten Morgen. I hope you have not been waiting on me long.”

A familiar song accompaniment to a familiar dance. As if this is not the joy they have shared for the majority of mornings over the last few years. 

“I am always happy to watch over you.” Essek slides both hands to Caleb’s cheeks, running his thumbs across the cheekbones. “Sleep well?”

“This night, yes.” Never a guarantee; always a celebration when it occurs. Essek also knows this feeling well. 

“It is your turn.” Essek removes his hands and sits up. He trades warm skin for the worn leather and paper of the closest book. “I’ll be down in fifteen or so.”

“Ah.” Caleb laughs and sits up in bed. “Make it twenty, Jester has lent me a new recipe for black moss pancakes.”

Essek squints at the page before him, a slight wrinkle to his nose. “I am fairly certain Jester is the only one who can make those palatable; it's her magic touch.”

“Sometimes literally.” Caleb pats Essek’s knee before getting out of bed and shrugging on the knitted brown cardigan he picks up from the side chair. “Apple honey toast it is instead.”

“I look forward to it.” Essek lifts his eyes from the page to send a smile Caleb’s way, and is met with a mirror of soft familiar sight. It can be years or decades or more, but Essek is certain he’ll never tire of that bright Widogast smile.

[steddieasitgoes]

Their dining room table has been taken over by thousands of tiny little beads and elastic in different colors. 

Steve sits opposite their sixteen-year-old daughter, a thin elastic band clutched in one hand and an assortment of approved beads laid out in front of him. He picks up a small purple crystal-like bead and tries to feed the elastic through the minuscule hole. 

“Christ, why isn’t this hole bigger,” he groans, squinting as he tries for the third time to thread the bead onto the elastic. 

“Aw, but I thought you liked tight holes, sweetheart,” Eddie teases, sauntering into the room. 

Their daughter pretends to retch before turning up the Taylor Swift song playing from her phone, hoping to drown them out. It doesn’t matter that they have a state-of-the-art stereo system in the other room that sounds a thousand times better than the shit speakers in her phone. She likes the convenience. 

Steve, on the other hand, glares playfully at Eddie. “Seriously, not in front of our daughter.” 

“Oh, please, don’t pretend she doesn’t know things.” 

“I mean, yeah, but she doesn’t need to know things about us.” 

“I really don’t,” their daughter agrees. 

Eddie laughs before collapsing onto the seat beside Steve. Assessing the beads in front of him, Eddie collects a few and gets to work. 

“Hey,” Steve whines, swatting Eddie’s hand away when he tries to steal one of his beads. “These are mine. You didn’t even get her approval.” 

Eddie scoffs. “I don’t need her approval. She trusts me, right bug?” 

Their daughter rolls her eyes, but nods. Eddie hoots victoriously before going back to his own bracelet. Steve shares a look of amusement with their daughter. One that says it’s better to let Eddie think he won than try to give him a set of rules to play by. 

Many things have changed about Eddie over the years, but one thing that has remained the same is his disdain for other people’s rules — even if the rules are coming from his daughter. 

When Steve tries to take a peek at what Eddie is working on a moment later, he gets a swift elbow to the ribs. “No peaking!” 

Shaking his head, Steve gets back to his own bracelets. It’s a lot easier threading the beads when he grabs his glasses from the bedroom and he manages to finish two daughter-approved bracelets in the time it takes Eddie to finish whatever he’s been working on. 

“Are you ready to see the best bracelet ever?” he asks, standing up with all the dramatics he had when he was thirty years younger. 

Steve and their daughter nod, setting aside their own bracelets to look at Eddie’s creation. 

A rainbow of beads, all different shapes and sizes surround a group of block letter beads that reads: Fuck Ticketmaster. 

Steve laughs while their daughter smirks, shaking her head. 

“It’s not a Taylor lyric, but I appreciate the sentiment.” 

“Our bank account definitely agrees.” 

“So will the Swifties, you’ll see!” Eddie says, reaching for another random set of beads to start another bracelet.  

The three of them spend the rest of the afternoon making friendship bracelets. Well, Steve and their daughter do. Eddie continues making “Fuck Ticketmaster” and various other obscure and random bracelets. The highlights of which include a red beaded monstrosity with the word “scarf” on it and one that just says "Olive Garden."

Unfortunately for Steve and their daughter, Eddie’s unhinged bracelets are the biggest hit at the concert. He ends up trading all his bracelets before they even get into the stadium. 

He doesn’t let them live it down, proclaiming himself the King of Friendship bracelets. 

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton arrives to the track on qualifying day, monaco - may 25, 2024 📷 ryan pierse / getty