#⭐️ DARLING~

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hi! How are you? I hope everything is well!

You can ignore this ask if you want!

Sorry if this ask is awkward but what would Dick do if you were sick? I know you said he snowballs into his tendencies.

But would he keep the reader sick when he sees how easy it is to manipulate them or infantilize them?

It can go in either platonic or romantic!

ALSO I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING I STUMBLED UPON YOUR BLOG YESTERDAY AND BINGED EVERY POST YOU HAVE AND KEPT ON REREADING

HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY❤️❤️

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! GN reader, coerced care, drugging, forced sickness, slight manipulation, infantilizing, improper use of epidemiology.

At first, he would be terrified. He’d taken all these precautions to make sure you were safe, and here you were, down with some sickness? How did you even catch it?? Answer: Dick brought it home to you. He’s a careful man when it comes to your health, but there’s no way in hell he’s quarantining himself from you, so these are the consequences of his mandatory cuddles. Of course, now wasn’t the time to fret over the details. He had a new role to assume as your bedtime nurse, gathering all necessary items to help you through this illness.

He expected you to fight him with every step. Despite how hopeful he is, he does recognize the unfortunate reality of your relationship; you just don’t understand what’s good for you. A chiding remark was already hot on his tongue as he walked back into your shared room, ready to lecture you into submitting to his care.

So, imagine his surprise when you were oddly compliant.

You didn’t try to squirm away when he sat you upright. You didn’t turn your head away as he popped medicine in your mouth. You didn’t spit out the water he gave you to wash it down. Hell, you didn’t even try to curl away after he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. This all felt too good to be true, and he had to actually pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

You were listening to him.

You were finally listening to him.

But, of course, Dick should’ve known better than to get his hopes up. As you regained your health over the course of the week, you went right back to resisting his care, causing his heart to ache from false hope. A slightly more reasonable voice in his head reminds him that it’s good you’re getting better, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the grief he feels over the shortly lived compliance you showed.

You allowed him to dote over you, and he’s not going to trade that in for anything.

I can definitely see him going as far as to lace your medicine with something to keep you sick. I’m not entirely sure what he’d use, and as much as I would love to research this to find out, I’m pretty sure I’m already on a watchlist for the paralysis/amputation ask, so… we’ll just have to leave the substance unnamed. You wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary; perhaps a funny after taste, but maybe it’s always been there and you’re finally well enough to notice it. The next morning, you’ll feel like a truck hit you. Just when you felt like you were near the end, the sickness decided to come back with a vengeance… was this just the final wave before you’re in the clear?

Dick would obviously be faux sympathetic. He’d give you the worried eyes, acting absolutely taken aback by your returning worse condition. How could this be? You were looking good as new yesterday… well, don’t worry!! He’s here to take care of you!! You’ll feel better in no time!!

Now, would he feel guilty for purposely making you sick? A little. But he wouldn’t have to resort to this if you just let him take care of you, so it unfortunately had to happen. And besides, he’s not an idiot. He gives you the laced medicine within moderation, so no significant harm is being brought to your immune system (or so he thinks). He even makes sure to balance it out by giving you real medicine, too!! What’s the worse that can happen?

By the time the second week of your prolonged bedridden state rolls around, you’ve probably figured out something’s up. I can see Dick just eventually dropping the worried act entirely, instead seeming to enjoy your misery, so that would probably be a major clue as to what’s really going on. But it’s too late; you feel too weak to even lift a finger, having to depend on Dick for everything as you helplessly feel trapped in your own body.

[stxrkiss]

谷 𝁼 𝒈𝒐 ahead ִ and 𝒞𝓇𝓎 𔓕 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔊𝔦𝔯𝔩 ᮫ ꒱

そんな無垢な目で見つめるな... 汚したく なるだろう?

# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓮 𝓦𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ☆

# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦? 𝘏𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘖𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦...

# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳/𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐.

# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦.

Bruce remembers the first time he met you.

You were five years old. A tiny thing, too small, too delicate, all bright eyes and soft hands, clinging to his leg like a lifeline.

Your father—one of his most trusted business partners—had laughed, shaking his head.

“She’s taken a liking to you,” he had said, ruffling your hair.

And then, with all the confidence of a child, you had beamed up at Bruce and declared,

“I’m gonna marry you one day!”

The room had erupted in laughter. Your father had chuckled, his business partners had teased him. But Bruce—

Bruce had only smiled.

It was harmless. Just childish innocence.

Or at least, that’s what he had told himself.

You grew up fast.

Too fast.

One moment, you were that little girl clutching his hand at charity galas, giggling when he lifted you into his arms. The next, you were nineteen, standing in his home like you belonged there, a young woman too beautiful for her own good. all soft curves and knowing smiles.

Bruce didn’t know when it started—when his affection for you twisted into something ugly.

All he knows is that one day, he looked at you—really looked at you—and something inside him snapped.

Because you were beautiful.

And it was wrong.

So, so wrong.

And Bruce—he was not a good man.

He tried to be. God, he tried.

Bruce tried to ignore it. He told himself it was natural—a fatherly protectiveness over the daughter of his closest friend.

But a father wouldn’t think about you the way he did.

A father wouldn’t ache like this.

A father wouldn’t watch you when you weren’t looking.

Wouldn’t stare when your nightgown slipped off your shoulder.

Wouldn’t feel his throat tighten when you called him “Mr. Wayne”, your voice so sweet, so innocent, so cruel.

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

And that was the worst part.

You make it impossible.

Because you’re thoughtless. Careless.

You touch him too much. Press yourself against him in hugs that last too long, your fingers curling around his arm, your breath warm on his neck.

He told himself it was innocent. That the way he watched you wasn’t wrong. That the thoughts in his head were just passing moments of weakness—nothing more.

It gets worse when you start talking to him about boys.

You sit on the couch in his study, curled up in one of his expensive leather chairs, talking about your boyfriend problems while he nurses a glass of whiskey, fingers tightening around the crystal.

“Ugh, I don’t know,” you sigh. “Liam’s being so... needy.”

Bruce doesn’t answer.

You don’t notice the way his jaw clenches. The way his fingers tighten. The way his thoughts turn ugly.

You just keep talking.

“He wants to have sex, but I don’t think I’m ready.” You stretch your arms above your head, your crop top rising just enough to show a sliver of your stomach. “I mean, I don’t want my first time to be... disappointing, y’know?”

Bruce stares at you.

His blood boils.

Your first time.

With some boy.

Some child who doesn’t know a damn thing about you.

He hates it.

The thought of your soft little body under some clumsy boy, of you making those sweet little sounds for someone who doesn’t deserve them—someone who doesn’t know you like he does—it makes something inside him snap.

He wants to tell you the truth.

That boys don’t know how to take care of a girl like you. That they’ll use you. That you need a man—someone who can be gentle, who knows how to take care of you, how to teach you.

He wants to say all of it.

But instead, he just takes a slow sip of whiskey and says,

“Be careful who you trust.”

You don’t see the way his eyes darken.

You don’t hear the warning in his voice.

And the worst part?

You ask him for advice.

“Mr. Wayne,” you say sweetly, resting your chin on your palm, “why do men always want one thing?”

Bruce’s jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists under the table.

You don’t understand what you’re playing with.

You don’t see the way his eyes darken when you talk about them. The boys who touch you. The ones who don’t deserve to even look at you.

You don’t understand the filthy thoughts he has when he imagines you with them.

You don’t understand that he wants to ruin you.

Bruce stares at you, at your bare skin, at the way your lips part as if waiting for him to take.

And God help him.

He does.

His hands clench against the couch. He leans in, close enough to breathe you in.

Close enough to claim.

Close enough to ruin you.

He doesn’t remember when he started following you.

Not just in the manor. Not just in his home.

Outside. In the city.

You don’t notice.

Or maybe you do.

Maybe you like knowing he’s watching.

Watching as you go on dates with boys your age—pathetic, fumbling boys who don’t know how to take care of you the way a man like him would.

You always seem disappointed after those dates.

And Bruce tells himself it’s because you know.

You know they aren’t enough.

That they’ll never be enough.

That no one will ever love you the way he does.

But then, one night, he looked at you—really looked at you—and something inside him snapped.

Because you weren’t a child anymore.

You were soft curves and bright smiles and whispers of silk.

And it was wrong.

So, so wrong.

He tries to ignore it.

To pretend that nothing has changed. That you’re still just the daughter of his friend—a girl he has known since childhood.

But you make it impossible.

Because you’re cruel.

You don’t even realize it, but you are.

The way you hug him just a little too long. The way you press against him, your body warm, your scent too sweet, too intoxicating. The way you laugh—tilting your head back, exposing the soft skin of your throat.

The way you call him “Mr. Wayne” in that sweet, teasing voice—like you know exactly what it does to him.

But you don’t.

You don’t understand how dangerous it is to tempt a man like him.

But you will.

Soon.

He thinks about it too much.

The way you look at him. The way you look for him at every party, every event. The way you light up when he pays attention to you.

He shouldn’t.

You’re too young. Too innocent.

He should be ashamed of the way his fingers tighten around his glass when he sees you in those short dresses, the way his breath hitches when you cross your legs, letting the hem ride up—just enough.

And he knows, deep down, that you aren’t doing it on purpose.

That you trust him.

That you have no idea how sick he is.

That you have no idea how long he’s been watching you, how long he’s been thinking about you in ways he shouldn’t.

That you have no idea how badly he wants to ruin you.

It happens late one night.

You’re staying at the manor while your father is away, wandering around in nothing but a silk nightgown that barely reaches your thighs.

And Bruce is watching you.

He shouldn’t be.

But God help him, he can’t look away.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware of the monster lurking in the shadows.

Then, without looking up, you murmur,

“You’re staring, Mr. Wayne.”

His blood runs hot.

You’re doing it again. Pushing him. Testing him.

You don’t even know what you’re playing with.

“What are you doing up?” His voice is calm. Controlled. But there’s an edge to it, a tension that wasn’t there before.

You stretch, your nightgown riding up, exposing too much skin.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur. Then, you turn to him, eyes dark, playful. Inviting. “But maybe you could help with that.”

Silence.

A long, dangerous silence.

Then, Bruce is in front of you, his hands gripping the couch on either side of your body, caging you in.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he says, voice low, deadly.

But you just smile.

And Bruce?

Bruce finally snaps.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not soft.

He grips your wrist, too tight, dragging you forward until you gasp, your balance thrown off.

You fall against him, your body flush against his, and he hates himself for how good it feels.

For how warm you are. For how easily you fit against him.

His breath is hot against your ear, his hands shaking as they hover over your skin.

He shouldn’t.

He can’t.

But he wants to.

So, so badly.

“You think this is a game?” His voice is hoarse, strained.

Your lips part, confusion flickering across your face.

And for the first time, you see it.

The way he looks at you.

Like a starving man staring at his last meal.

Like a man at war with himself, a man who has spent years trying to fight something that was always meant to consume him.

You blink up at him, lips slightly parted.

His breath shudders. His grip tightens.

Then, he’s kissing you.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. A collision of heat and teeth and pent-up want that’s been festering inside him for too long.

You gasp against his lips, and he drinks it in, pressing you deeper into the couch, caging you with his body.

And when he finally pulls back, his pupils blown wide, his breath ragged—

And Bruce—Bruce knows he’s going to hell for this.

But maybe he was always meant to burn.

And maybe you were always meant to burn with him.

© stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.

[lachatalovematcha]

🌸★‧₊˚･ﾟ::･ＭＡＧＩＣ★ＮＩＧＨＴあなたに出会う以前★‧₊˚･ﾟ::･🌸

[agirlwithglam]

Hi!! I hope I'm not disturbing you but I wanted to ask how do I work hard. Because when I was younger I got really good marks without trying and now the subjects are hard and social media is distracting but I can't seem to delete it. This is also why my grades are even low then before and I'm really afraid to disappoint my parents (being the eldest daughter doesn't help). So can you please just give me some pointers on how can I actually study and not just cry because I don't know how to. Have a great day!! <3

literally omg. is this past me asking me a question?? like actually u have no idea how much i relate and understand this. the "gifted child" who always got good grades without needing to study now finds things more difficult. i know many people have said this, but i actually have been through this not too long ago. i hope these tips help <3

how to work hard + actually study (realistic)

forget hard work. at least do the work! (its so funny because i literally had a post about this all ready in my drafts about to get posted, so i'll keep this short and link the post.) stop focussing on doing hard work like studying 24/7. just put in the basic necessities you need to get a better grade. hard work post link

use the disappointment and embarrassment as fuel. (basically find a very strong why) (mini story-ish thing coming up, skip to the blue text for the actual advice) i still remember the day i got such a bad score on my math and science test, i was FURIOUS at myself and i cried about it! telling it to my parents was one of the hardest things i had to do and feeling their disappointment was even worse. but that became my turning point. i was so ashamed of myself and i resented me so much that i basically just told myself "i dont freaking care what you feel *with distaste*. you brought this on yourself you failure" (a bit very harsh, yes i know) but the way i studied that week- i studied more than i every had before! also doing this doesnt really lower my self esteem a whole lot, but if it does with you, please be gentle with yourself. : so what i'm trying to say it; use that feeling of shame and disapointment as a fuel, a motivation. The big “why”.

ALTER EGOOOSSSS. this helps SOOOO MUCH its so underrated. embody the energy of your fav people who are the academic inspiration you wanna be! example: rory gilmore, paris geller, elle woods, blair waldorf, etc etc! not only is this so helpful but it also makes it so much more fun and easier!!

parent yourself. i used to tell myself to do stuff like "go study now!" or "get up lazy-butt" but in my mind. but what if you tried to say those stuff out loud to yourself? it just creates a whole new level of real. So start telling yourself to do stuff out loud.

honestly just start. stop letting yourself think about how "uncomfortable" and how "annoying" it will be. All you need to know is that you need to get it done. Right? Ok. So now what’s the next smallest step you can take to getting to do the unwanted task? It may be taking out your material, opening your book, etc.

( !! tough love, but very important rant coming up)

You privileged brat. Your parents gave up EVERYTHING so you could have the education that you are having. They worked so so hard for YOU. So YOU can have the life you want. And all for what? Just for you to throw it all away and say “oh im lazy”. HELL NAH.

And also, do you realise how fortunate you are to be even living in such a time/ era where you have access to basically EVERYTHING? You’re stuck on something? You could easily search it up!! And whats more is that you can further learn. You can search up and find out more about the thing that you’re studying, become the smartest person in your class, get so ahead in life. I hope you realise that if you do use all the resources and materials and help that’s been given to you, just imagine how far you could go! Further than Albert Einstine, Elon Musk, etc. you may be like “what! No that’s gonna be too hard!” But did they have the tools that you have right at your hand? No! They made it all the way with just simple stuff and having to work super hard. But you live in a time where you can do TWICE as much without working as hard!!

And one more thing, QUIT WHINING. “Oh school is so hard!” “Oh school is so boring!” Like whattt???? You are so FORTUNATE and LUCKY to be even getting access to such education! MILLIONS of kids out there would kill to be able to learn what you are so easily dismissing right now. So TAKE ADVANTAGE OF WHAT YOU HAVE. Put your ALL, your very BEST into studying and getting good grades because THAT is whats gonna take you so SO far in life.

Thank you very much, *mic drop*. (i still ly pookie)

dealing with social media:

put the screen time widget on your phone home screen. i did this, and i became so embarrassed by the amount of screen time i had in one day (*cough* 12 hours *cough*) that i made certain to stop using it as much.

screen time limits. this may or may not help you, bc i know that when i knew the screen time password, it didn't do a lot of help but when someone else did (like parents or someone you trust), then it definitely worked. this is probably only best if you're a child around under 14 ish bc thats around the age when most parents put screen time limits + after that age you're gonna be a lot more independent.

more *extremely* helpful resourses:

tips to decrease your phone screen time by @imbusystudying

how to reduce your screen time in the digital age? (an article)

studying tips from a straight-A student by @universalitgirlsblog2

how to study like paris geller by @4theitgirls

more blogs i recomend:

@elonomhblog @mindfulstudyquest @study-diaries @thatbitchery

xoxo, vanilla

[starinacage]

If I can't hear the sound of your heartbeat

ᯓ★ Pluto/Otto

ᯓ★ Xe/They/It/Sea/Gravi

What do you call love in your reality?

₊ ⊹ ⟡ DNI - Anti-Endo, Syscourse, DDLG/CGL/ABDL, Minors (18+ please) ⟡ ⊹ ₊

⋆˙✮ This blog is for me to express my obsessive emotions and thoughts freely, be respectful

✩ˊ˗ Taken by @graveyardoflove

✩ˊ˗ Main system blog @lovesickseas

And in your reality, if I don't know how to love you

I’ll leave you be

[volosdarling]

EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL COUPLE ~~

(REALLY COOL GIFT BY @sarcasmprodigy THANK YOU!!)

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hi!

Would Platonic Yandere! Scott Summers ever manipulate reader? Or just fully or subtly infantilize them to keep them safe? Or maybe even gaslight them?

To him it would just be like oh I’m doing it to keep you safe of course even if I am making you rely on me but I don’t want you to realize this :)

(Sorry if this is a crappy ask I haven’t gotten a chance to really get into X - Men and the idea was really only half formed when i submitted it)

(Ps why does Scott kind of lowkey give off Platonic Yandere! Dick Grayson vibes? No just me? Ok 🥹😂)

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️💙💙💙💙

⭐️anon

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍…

!!! GN reader, manipulation (shocker), strict Scott, control issues, Dck Gryson cameo, accidental infantilism, accidental gaslighting.

X-Men content is like a drug. I was dragged in by ‘97, then started watching the OG cartoon, then started picking up the comics, and now look at me. My life is ruined. Run while you still can.

Scott’s manipulation completely comes in the form of abusing his leadership position. He’s not afraid to threaten you with disciplinary action as the field commander of the X-Men, even if it’s over something as little as you not wanting to abide by his made up curfew. If you wanna be an X-Men, then you have to listen to him both on and off the field. How can he depend on you if you don’t, huh?

Scott has to be in control. Bad things always happen when he’s not, so the thought of not having you — someone he views as a sibling, or even his own child — under wraps is absolutely terrifying. Yes, it might seem like he’s being a total prick to you, but this is just what all of the trauma over the years has done to him. He can’t really help it!! Please respect his authority!!

He just wants to keep you safe… please let him keep you safe…

Now, I usually imagine the reader to also be an X-Man when it comes to platonic Scott. But if that’s not your cup of tea, then the whole leader thing kind of falls flat. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold the same commanding presence, however. “Because I said so” is his main go-to for manipulation (if you even wanna call it that), and he’ll say it in the same tone he uses against Wolverine or Gambit whenever one of those bozos are acting up. He’s older and wiser than you, and that obviously means he knows best. Why are you questioning him?

As for the Dick Grayson comparison… not gonna lie, I’ve thought about a Nightwing/X-Men collab idea before, but that’s beside the point. Dick has a full arsenal of manipulation tactics at the ready, one of them being the more stricter, no-nonsense angle that may be reminiscent of Scott’s. But whereas Dick likes to metronome between any and every possible manipulative strategy out there, Scott pretty much only has one. And it’s barely a conscious decision, either. Should he ever have to actually think about manipulating you, he’s actually feel pretty guilty about it before convincing himself it’s for your own good.

Infantilism is less of a manipulation tactic and more of a way he shows his love. He is 100% convinced you’re just a little baby and doesn’t find it weird at all to treat you as such. His delusional ass will absolutely carry you around in his hip and think you’re the crazy one for not liking it. There might be a little gaslighting in that regard, but definitely not heavy-handed or on purpose. You’re an adorable little thing… don’t all adorable little things like to be carried? Huh… weird. Maybe you’re just not used to it.

All and all, while he’s sharp enough to see through most forms of manipulation, actually executing it is another story. This man is way too blunt to be charming and too emotionally constipated to lean harder into his softer side. Heads up: there’s a chance you may walk in on him reading books on parenting.

[stxrkiss]

𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾⠀⠀𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅⠀⠀··⠀⠀𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 !ㅤ☆

君が離れるなんて、考えられないよ…

# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓈ℴ𝓃 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ☆ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹

# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱-𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐 ⚠

# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦.

Dick shouldn’t want you.

It’s wrong.

It’s not just the family thing—though, God, that alone should be enough to keep his hands off you—it’s the fact that you are Bruce’s daughter. The man who saved him. The man who raised him. The man who gave him everything when he had nothing.

And yet, here he is, watching you.

He doesn’t mean to. He swears he doesn’t. But you make it impossible not to look. Not when you walk around the manor in nothing but those tiny little shorts that barely cover anything, your shirt riding up to tease the barest hint of skin.

You do it on purpose. You must.

Because every time you catch him staring, you smile—all soft, all knowing—and it makes something dark coil in his gut.

He tells himself it’s just lust. Just temptation. That if he ignores it, it will go away.

But it doesn’t.

It gets worse. So much worse.

Because you’re cruel.

You push him. You tease him. You taunt him.

Like last week, when Bruce was out on League business, and it was just you and Dick alone in the manor. You had walked into the kitchen, wearing one of his old shirts—his—the hem just barely brushing your thighs. No shorts. No bra. Just you, all soft and warm and so fucking tempting, stretching in front of him with a lazy little smirk.

And the worst part? You acted innocent.

“Oh? Are you blushing, Dick?” Your voice had been sickly sweet, your eyes brimming with amusement as you sauntered past him, brushing against his side like it was nothing. “I didn’t know you were so easy to fluster.”

He had gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away, fingers curling into fists, nails digging into his palms.

Because if he didn’t—if he let himself slip, even for a second—he would do something unforgivable.

And you know it.

That’s the worst part.

You know exactly what you do to him. You know how hard it is for him to keep control.

And you love it.

You push and push and push, testing him, daring him to snap.

And God help him, he’s so close.

The first time Bruce brought Dick home, you were not happy.

You were young—only about a year younger than him—but old enough to know what this meant.

Your father, your Batman, was bringing home another child.

A boy.

A boy who had just lost everything.

A boy who would now be living in your home, sitting at your table, training with your father.

You had stood on the grand staircase, arms crossed, lips pressed together as Alfred guided the quiet, wide-eyed boy through the manor doors. He looked small, his blue eyes dull with grief, his shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself invisible.

You should have felt bad for him.

You really should have.

But at the time, all you saw was a stranger stepping into your world.

Bruce placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his voice quiet but steady. “This is your home now, Richard.”

Richard.

You tested the name in your mind, turning it over, before your father turned his gaze to you.

“Go on,” Bruce said, nodding toward the boy. “Say hello.”

You didn’t want to.

But under your father’s stare, you sighed and reluctantly walked down the stairs.

Richard lifted his head, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

You were prepared for awkwardness, for silence, maybe even resentment from him.

But instead—

He smiled.

Small, tentative.

But real.

And for some reason, it made your heart stumble.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice hoarse, uncertain. “I’m Richard.”

You looked at him for a long moment before finally muttering, “I know.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh. Like he already found you funny.

It was annoying.

And yet… something about it warmed you.

At first, you refused to accept him.

Dick was everywhere, slipping into places that had once been yours alone.

Bruce took him to train.

Bruce took him on patrol.

Bruce cared about him.

And it made something ugly coil in your chest.

You hated that you felt jealous, but you did.

Because before Dick, it had always been you and Bruce. Even if Bruce was distant, even if he was never the perfect father, he had still been yours.

You avoided him around the manor, shot down Alfred’s attempts to get you to play nice, and scoffed when Bruce started training him—giving him a place in your world, like it was nothing.

But Dick was… persistent.

He didn’t get mad when you ignored him. He didn’t complain when you rolled your eyes at his jokes.

If anything, he seemed amused.

And worse—he kept trying to be your friend.

He’d find you in the library and poke at your shoulder until you finally looked up.

“Whatcha reading?”

“Go away.”

“I don’t think I’ve read that one before. Is it good?”

“Are you deaf?”

“…Is that a yes?”

You’d glare at him. He’d just grin back.

You hated how unbothered he was.

But somehow, little by little, he wore you down.

The first time you truly laughed with him was late one night in the kitchen.

Alfred had already gone to bed, Bruce was off on patrol, and you had crept downstairs for a midnight snack.

And apparently, so had Dick.

You caught each other in the dimly lit kitchen, both freezing, staring at one another like two criminals caught in the act.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then—

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

You narrowed your gaze.

Then sighed. “Fine.”

That was the night you bonded over stolen cookies, whispered jokes, and laughter muffled behind your hands.

That was the night you realized something.

You liked having him around.

And maybe—just maybe—having a brother wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Then, little moments started to chip away at your walls.

One night, you had been training alone in the manor gym, taking out your frustration on a punching bag when you suddenly lost your balance and stumbled—falling hard against the mat.

You hissed, pressing a hand to your ankle, pain flaring up your leg.

And before you could even process it, he was there.

Dick had been watching from the doorway—silent, unnoticed—but now he was crouching beside you, concern clear in his blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft, careful.

You swallowed your pride and muttered, “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you.

Without a word, he reached out and gently took your ankle in his hands, his touch careful but firm as he checked for injuries.

You tensed. “I said I’m fine—”

“Just shut up for a second,” he said, rolling his eyes but still smiling.

You blinked.

It was the first time he had ever talked back to you.

And for some reason… it made your chest feel warm.

After a moment, he let go and leaned back on his heels. “It’s not swollen. You’ll live.”

You scowled. “Gee, thanks, doctor.”

He grinned, and you hated that you almost smiled back.

After that, things changed.

You found yourself talking to him more, sitting next to him at meals, even training together in the gym.

And it wasn’t awful.

He made things easier.

He made you laugh.

And for the first time in a long time… you didn’t feel so alone.

Then your birthday came.

You didn’t expect much. You never did.

Bruce had never been the type to make a big deal out of birthdays.

He’d get you something practical—a new weapon, an upgrade to your suit, maybe a rare book you mentioned once in passing.

Alfred would bake a cake, wish you a proper happy birthday, and that would be it.

But that year… something was different.

You woke up to balloons tied to your chair at breakfast.

A handmade banner hanging in the dining room.

And a small, neatly wrapped box placed in front of your plate.

You stared at it, then turned to Alfred.

He just smiled knowingly and nodded toward Dick.

You blinked, finally looking at him.

Dick was watching you nervously, his fingers tapping the table like he was waiting for your reaction.

“I, uh… I know you don’t really do birthdays,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I figured, you know… maybe this year could be different.”

Your chest felt tight.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for the box and unwrapped it.

Inside was a bracelet—simple, black, woven with thin silver threads. Hand-braided. Slightly uneven.

You lifted it, your throat suddenly dry. “You made this?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. It’s, um… kinda stupid, but I wanted to make you something instead of just buying something.”

You didn’t know what to say.

No one had ever done something like this for you before.

Your fingers curled around the bracelet, and for the first time, your voice softened.

“…Thank you.”

Dick’s entire face lit up.

And for the first time since he arrived at the manor, you realized something terrifying.

You didn’t just like him.

You needed him.

© stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.

[lachatalovematcha]

ଘ♡ଓɞ ｡∴回り☆🍮∴｡∴☆🍮 ｡∴☆ ｡☆🍮 ｡∴☆∴☆🍮 ｡∴ɞ ଘ♡ଓ

☘️🍎🐱⭒˚.⋆ . ݁₊恋はいつだって遠回り⭒˚.⋆ . ݁₊☘️🍎🐱(๑╹ω╹๑)🍮🎀⭐️時間の魔法*:･ﾟ❤⊹🎈⭐️🌈ＦＬＯＷＥＲ☆ ＫＩＳＳ🥕🎀🌈指に力入れて立て！(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧:･ﾟ☘️☀️🎀🎈⭐️🌈ＷＯＷ

ଘ♡ଓɞ ｡∴☆🍮｡∴☆🍮 ｡∴☆ ｡☆🍮 ｡∴☆∴☆🍮 ｡∴ɞ ଘ♡ଓ

[lions-fall-for-lambs]

I think keeping my butch’s cock in my mouth while they watched a few episodes of their favorite show would fix me

•minors DNI•

[the-angel-muriel]

Not that we want you to get sent back to Heaven, but, if you were....

Heaven isn't consecrated ground (I'd know, I've been up there once). And many ha ds make light work. And the Supreme Archangel just told Michael to leave me alone. We'd figure out a way to help. Again, Don really want you to get sent back there, just a plan B.

Eric

Oh, would you really?!

That- Well. I.

Thank you, so much.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hi!

You can ignore this ask if you want!

Honestly as I was writing one ask another popped up in my mind 🥹so I decided to do two ask instead of one so I didn't spam your inbox haha!

Also sorry for bothering you with these ideas.

What would platonic yandere Dick Grayson do for the readers birthday? Would he invite anyone that he is close to or even trust or would it just be him and reader sharing a cake as he sings happy birthday to them? And also maybe gives them a lot of presents but they are kind of childish if that makes sense.

The other ask would be what would again platonic yandere Dick Grayson do if by some chance the reader escaped from him? Would he freak out for a bit and than promptly go and look for them? And once he finds them he's furious and the reader is scared because they have never seen him that angry or show that type of emotion before?

Again you can ignore this if you want I know I wrote a lot I was just so excited and the ideas popped into my head!

LOVE ALL THE WORKS YOU'VE DONE!

HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY OR NIGHT!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! GN reader, infantilizing, mentions of kidnapping, handcuffs, forced-affection, pissed off Dick Grayson, brief mention of drugging, reader fears being hit for a second.

(ANON, I LOVE REPEAT OFFENDERS IN MY INBOX. DON’T YOU DARE FEEL BAD FOR FEEDING ME ASKS. I’M HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYY.)

Birthday parties depend on how compliant you are. If you’re not trying to escape every other day, he’d gladly invite some of the Titans over to celebrate! He likes showing off his cool hero connections to you — even going as far as to play the “oh, Superman? His mother makes the best apple pie” card — so this would be a good way to live up to the hype. A lot of the party would be spent taking on your behalf, however. He just thinks he knows you that well (and he doesn’t want you to form a connection with anyone else; he’s the only one you need in your life!!). I can also see him laying down ground rules to the other Titans beforehand, practically threatening them to be on their best behavior. Big brother’s friends must be good role models to his young and impressionable sibling!!

Now, I already said that it depends on how compliant you are, but it also depends on what your situation is, too. I lowkey kinda imagine all of the platonic Dick Grayson asks to take place in the same universe as Life With Older Brother, which means everyone knows you’re under Dick’s care, and it’s pretty much the only scenario where inviting people to your birthday would work. But if you were kidnapped, it would be a different story. He’s not risking anyone finding out about you (which complicates his relationship with a very young Tim Drake, who would totally accidentally stumble upon you in the apartment, but that’s a story for another day), so even if you were very complacent, I don’t see him inviting anyone over.

Back to the Life With Older Brother universe, if you “misbehave” a lot, it would just be the two of you. He’d almost hold it over your head, sadly sighing as he says things like, “it would’ve been a bigger party this year, but only good little siblings get big birthday parties.” If you were a fucking child, maybe this dumb guilt-tripping tactics would actually work. If you try to cut your two-person party short by spending the rest of the day in your room, he’s not above wrestling you into his lap — or even handcuffing you to the kitchen table — so you can open your presents; and holy shit, there’s a lot of them. I can definitely see him getting you childish things, ranging from toys to innocent-looking kiddy clothes. Any gifts sent by Bruce are taken back to the store for return.

As for escaping…

There’s no way you’d manage to pull-off an escape while he’s in the apartment, so it’d be a nasty surprise for him when he returns from patrol. He’d frantically tear the place apart in search of you, his stomach dropping as he finds the clues of your apparent escape. Once he checks the security feed, he feels equal parts worried, heartbroken, and angry that you took it upon yourself to leave him. You really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?! You’d rather run around on dangerous streets than stay with your kind, loving, doting older brother…

His search probably wouldn’t take long. I can see him putting a tracker in your arm at some point, so it’s as simple as following the little red dot on his device. Relief washes over him when he sees you’re alright, but that does little to quell the betrayal rage he feels. He’s silently swoop down from above, forcefully picking you up from behind as he grapples back towards the apartment. You’d kick and thrash, plead and beg, but there’s nothing but radio silence on his end. The only inkling of a reaction you get is his tight frown and his extremely restrictive arm around your abdomen. Dread washes over your chest as you realize just how fucked you are.

Upon returning home, he practically throws you against his bed and spares no time handcuffing you to the headboard. Any sort of apologies you try to muster out immediately die on your tongue as he rips off his mask, his piercing blue eyes filled with an icy rage you’ve never seen before. It makes you want to curl into a little ball and wish you were never born.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he’d lowly mutter, exasperation sprinkled between the gaps of his anger. There’s a moment where you think he’s going to start one of his signature lectures, but no such thing happens. Instead, he turns to the wall and punches it, causing you to flinch at the impact. Never has he shown this type of aggression in front of you. He’s yelled at you, sure, but physically punched something?

For the first time, you found yourself worrying if he’d put his hands on you.

I think he’d have to convince himself to cool off for a bit. First triple-checking that you couldn’t escape (possibly imposing more precautions like double restraints or the IV), he’d leave the apartment for another patrol, taking his anger out on any poor criminal he comes across. I’d say it takes an hour before he feels level-headed enough to come back home, his suit speckled with blood from viscous beat-down after viscous beat-down. It’s the first thing you notice when he comes through his bedroom window, causing your heart rate to pick up.

He wants so desperately to scream at you; he needs to get it through your thick skull that you’re safe here, and he’s the only one in the world who knows how to care for you and protect you. But that will come later. Right now, all he wants to do is bring you into a longing and desperate hug, not even taking the time to change out of his Nightwing suit beforehand.

You’d be held against him for a while, his trembling hands making sure you have no chance of squirming out of his hold. It may be suffocating, but at the very least, it quells your fears of him taking his anger out on you.

[sh1ga-to3s]

UR NOT UNLOVEABLE- srry- but srsly, ur no where near unlovable, ur cool, nice, and so many other things that'd take too long to name!!!! I may not knw u irl, but I do know ur awesome, plus u have spiderweb anon right? I know they'd probably harshly disagree that you're unlovable -⭐

Actually web anon has stated they are not in the headspace to be in a relationship right now so uh yeah

[ser4phixx]

Haii!! Idk if I'm just slow and didn't seem them, but what are your pronouns?? -⭐

Hiii! You’re not slow, I don’t have them on my page, I use all pronouns with a preference for she/they and if you’re alright with neopronouns I use thing/pup

[lesbianhighgrace]

It's quite unfair I can be posting confidently one minute, and I come here, and suddenly all thoughts are gone and I'm a blushing mess. I'm so glad you find it amusing 😔

What sorcery is this?

-⭐️

I find it quite fair, my darling girl 😚 it’s all about balance anyways, isn’t it?

[bnuyy]

to my beautiful 😞🌷

absolutely 😞💕💕💕 any journey with you by my side is a beautiful one indeed no matter the obstacles