Being Mercenaries With Mama

I think Jason is taller than Bruce but because they re-met in their suits, and Batman had a slight heel, Jason didn’t notice. But Bruce did. So now he has a bigger heel.

Dick has noticed but no one else is looking, he just knows because he’s been around B since nearly the beginning. And he is definitely holding that over Bruce’s head.

Bruce partly did it out of assholery but also a little bit of stupid paternal feelings about his baby being all grown up.

Jason still hasn’t noticed because they both wear boots and are still rarely in casual clothes/barefoot around each other.

do u ever see someone elses headcannon for ur fave character and its like….. i completely respect that u have the right to that headcannon, i will not confront u at all and start needless bullshit over that headcannon…. but i will silently sit here and give you the sideways glance of the century

— Frank Bidart, from "The War of Vaslav Nijinsky";

Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016

Give him back his swords NOW !!

MDNI 18+

mind is currently fuzzy and thinking about how god damn big simon is, and the struggles he would experience trying to fit his fat cock in your small cunt. “fuck luvie, need you stretched out just for me yeah?” his voice thick with arousal as his long fingers abused your cunt, completely slick and glistening as your cunt made the most lewd sounds from your soppy hole. “need my sweet girl all prepped for daddy yeah?” his gaze never leaving yours as you hiccuped, cheeks flushed with your hair stuck to your forehead, your legs bouncing as his fingers abused your cunt. it was adorable how you were making such a god damn mess and he hasn’t even fucked your cunt with his cock yet. god, he was going to ruin you.

once you were finally stretched out enough for simon’s liking, he gently rubbed his cock along your cunt, lubricating it with your arousal. “see this sweetheart? it’s gonna be deep inside you,” his cock messily rubbing around your cunt, his fat tip gently nudging inside you. “too big,” you whined as your face scrunched up from a slight burn from the stretch. simon let out a low tut, shaking his head as he watched a small bulge appear in your stomach, your cunt stretched out to accomodate to his size. “you can take it baby, but stretch,” he cooed as he slowly adjusted, “just a little bit more yeah?” his large calloused hands gently rubbing the sides of your body. a low hiss escaped his lips as you clenched around him, despite how you soaked his cock, your inner thighs glistening from your arousal alone, you gripped around him desperately, his cock barely fitting in. fully inside you as his fat tip nudged against your sweet spot.

simon’s ego swelled watching your small cunt squeeze him in, “you feel that baby?” his tone soft as he gently squeezed around the small bulge, “all for you.”

just a fever ── simon 'ghost' riley

summary; he's not scared of a lot of things. except the first fever of his daughter.

wc; 0.4k

he has faced down barrels of guns with steely calm, walked through burning houses with his mask soaked in soot and blood. fear doesn't live in his bones anymore—at least, not the kind that comes from battlefields or the breath before a bullet flies.

but this... is new.

grace is burning up in his arms, small limbs restless and face flushed red with fever, and simon's chest feels like it's caving in. her breaths come fast and uneven, and her fingers, always clinging to his dog tags when she's sleepy, twitch like she’s too hot to hold onto anything.

she's just a baby. not even two.

he paces the living room barefoot, her little form tucked tight against his chest, his shirt damp where her forehead rests. you're on the phone with the pediatrician, voice calm but tight—trying not to let him hear the edge in it.

but he does. he hears everything at this point, every beat and every breath.

his hands are too rough for this. trained for holding guns, not tiny bodies burning with sickness. he keeps checking her temperature with a trembling hand against her neck, like it'll tell him something new. like anything will change.

watching grace whimper weakly in his arms, no strength to cry—he can’t protect her from this. and it unravels him.

you turn to him, finally off the call.

"they said it's common. her body's just learning how to fight things off. fever's a sign her immune system's working."

he nods slowly, but his eyes—those same eyes that have stared down warlords and monsters in masks— look hollow now.

"grace is strong," you add, gentler, placing a hand on his arm. "just like you".

but simon doesn’t feel strong. he feels helpless.

"she's never been this hot," he mutters, voice low, rough like gravel. "she looked at me like she didn't know who I was."

"she's tired, love. she knows who you are" you say softly, caressing his shoulder "you're her dad. of course she knows."

she stirs then, tiny fingers curling into his shirt again. her lips part and he hears the quietest murmur—“mgh…”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. cradles her closer. he doesn't even notice the wetness in his eyes until your hand brushes it away.

later, when grace is finally resting, fever breaking with a cool damp cloth and a lullaby that only you know how to hum right, simon stays by her crib. mask off. eyes open.

no guns. no enemies. just a man watching the smallest person he’s ever loved fight the first of life’s many battles.

he doesn’t flinch at gunfire.

but he’d rather take a bullet to the chest than watch his little girl suffer again.

a/n: making a series about simon being a dad !!! (probably a series of u meeting him too........ im down for it) (soon the masterlist)

breaking news… local bird comes back to life and is NOT happy…

the (real) reason Price kept you a secret

face studies with the vaqueros i did some time ago!🤠🤠

...and some white guy ig.

ao3 turns 15 today

reblog if youre older than ao3

(there's a lot of people asking about this, but the legal age to use social media is 13, except in few countries. so yes, there are people here under 15)