#ak's asks

[ak-vintage]

more fluffy sweet Marcus Acacius arranged marriage! SO GOOD!

LOL I'm so happy you enjoyed Work of Art! Leaving people wanting more is the highest compliment, so thank you!

I don't have anything specific planned for these two again in the near future, but I never say never. If something strikes me or if I get new inspiration after seeing the movie in November, I am definitely open to revisiting them!

[e-nonsense]

can i have ak!jason and a shy reader with the prompts “Off. Take it all off.” and “Keep your legs open doll, I’m still hungry.” pls plsss

warning. gun kink

“off. take it all off.”

his voice came from the corner of the room, he sat in the arm chair watching you. he didn’t do much else other than that most days, sometimes he’d hold you but it seems he’d finally ran out of patience trying to make you comfortable around him.

your cheeks flushed as you complied, nervously peeling each layer off before you’re standing in front off him bare and open to him. he just keeps watching, his breathing static behind his helmet before you hear a hiss and see him placing his helmet to the side.

“sit,” he commands, standing from his seat to let you take his place, you waste no time following his order before he’s kneeling in front of you pretty face resting against your knee.

he sighs as if this is the only time he can relax. you watch curiously — still very naked much to your embarrassment — as he hands you his gun from his holster, its unloaded, you know that. he’d never put a load weapon in the hands of someone as sweet as you.

he chuckles when you fumble on holding the piece, adjusting your fingers so you can comfortably hold it before pressing the nozzle to his head. he lets out a shaky breath as he stares up at you, icy blue eyes give away the affection he feels for you and he seems to enjoy the thought of being at your mercy.

“that’s it, pretty girl. hold it there f’me.”

his hands move to your thighs, spreading you open. “keep your legs open doll, i’m hungry.

[akanemnon]

Hey Akane, love your art! Its so cronchy I could just munch on it, and this new comic is awesome. I love the expressions. I do have a question, though. How is it that you do clothing physics so well? I struggle with them myself and yours always look so good, especially where clothes bend or crease. Any tips?

To be honest, it mainly has to do with experience. After a while you get a feeling for these kinda things. You learn to understand how gravity affects clothing. Or how wrinkles and creases are dependent on the specific properties of certain fabrics.

If I can recommend something, then you should totally check out the art tutorials by The Etherington Brothers! They got tons of very useful drawing tutorials that simply visualize what you might be looking for!

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until they fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[stnexus]

MDNI (18+)

one thing i think is: jason would not be into verbal degradation. physical things yeah. but verbally? i just do not get those vibes from him. yes, i’ve said he can be an asshole when it comes to teasing — but he just doesn’t seem like one to name call. not saying a verbal degradation kink is bad, i just can’t imagine him saying certain things.

[gideonisms]

on the one hand these lesbians are doomed to conform to a heterosexual world immediately upon adulthood or die tragically. On the other hand kaoru telling nanako "yes your love for rei is ephemeral. And you know what else is ephemeral? life itself"....see what I heard is lesbianism is just as important as being alive and when you reach the end of childhood and have to stop acting like a lesbian with all your friends that is a tragedy equal to death

[broocksz]

TRICK OR TREAT. 🐊🐊🐊🐊🐊💥💥💥💥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️🐊❗️🐊❗️🐊❗️🐊❗️🔥🔥🔥🪱

TREAT!!!! cross having an amazing time-

oh trick

cross sans by jakei95

[groovyace]

Hello if you draw AK Jason being/doing something soft and being happy I'll keep that image in a little cabinet in my heart forever and ever and ever

[baconcolacan]

In stay AU do you think they would adopt a child?

If this is about Tom and Tord,,,,buddy,,,,,,

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Everybody is fighting over humans that they forget this whole series is about AK 15

(In regards to the marriage ring saga for GFL)

AK-15 our beloved...

[ak-vintage]

bother the hell out of you you say? 👀

fmk- din, frankie, joel

Grace. You're cruel for this, you know that?

Please know that since you sent this, I have had four different answers and keep changing my mind. That's how close this is for me.

But. This is what I landed on... (TMI under the cut because I'm a mess for these three)

Fuck Frankie. I subscribe to the fanon idea that the origin of Frankie's call sign is that the man is a pussy-eating king and that he gained a bit of a reputation for it while in the service. Where we leave him at the end of Triple Frontier, his current relationship is at best strained and at worst completely over, so I don't think he's in a place to be anything serious, but god, what I wouldn't give to take that frowny face for a spin.

Marry Din. There is just something about this character archetype that will always do it for me. Din is competent, principled, passionate, protective. His loyalty, his devotion, the way he takes care of the people most important to him, his dedication to his community, all of it just makes me melt. To be on the receiving end of that kind of commitment and devotion would be everything. Din is the kind of man who would make you his whole world, and I love that shit. Plus, I will always be an absolute sucker for a single dad.

Kill Joel. I KNOW. I HATE IT, TOO. In my head, Joel lives a long and comfortable life in Jackson surrounded by his family and a community that appreciates him. He dies in his sleep an old man having finally known some years of happiness and safety post-outbreak. But, in this scenario, when put up against these specific characters... Joel is canonically going to die anyway. All three of these men are fathers, and Ellie is the only one really capable of looking after herself if he were to die (although we know she doesn't do that in the most healthy of ways).

I'm so sorry, Joel. I love you. In a different world...

God. I am actively second-guessing myself. I need to post this before I change my mind again.

[sang-i-fetge]

Shoutout to Arkham Knight Jason for bringing a whole-ass excavator to a boss fight❤️

We need more of this energy in modern Jason media TBH

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

After seeing a fanart of different versions of Jason I've only been thinking about it.

Like, imagine that some villain like Lex Luthor or Ra's Al Ghul, with their evil intentions, makes a clone or divides Jason into several versions of himself, or maybe someone who travels between realities and/or different timelines and brings them by accident (or on purpose) to our present.

Imagine you arriving home and coming across several versions of your boyfriend. IMAGINE ARRIVING HOME AND SEEING THIS:

https://pin.it/2oXnI1Sbu

(I'm sorry I couldn't put the image here😭)

Heres the link for anyone interested, but Nonnie!! Literally, I've been thinking about this for hours! (Put me in a room with arkham knight and red hood and none of us are walking out the same 🫣)

But anywayyy yess you're coming home to your adoring boyfriend and when you open your apartment, there's at least six different versions of him and their attention all snaps to you when you open the door.

Personally, I'm a puddle on a floor, but maybe you're stronger than me and ask what's going on. They're all scrambling over each other to get to you, half to explain and half because you're a familiar face and they all have their own version of you.

But your boyfriend very diligently steps in front of you to answer your question and tells you about some villain messing with the multiverse. PERSONALLY, I'm too distracted by how campy gun batman is to listen because when Jason has a bit, he sticks to it.

But you better believe you're cooking up enough food that they can all take home leftovers, and if you're a fan of the Jason who runs around with his arms out, that is no one business but yours.

Maybe your boyfriend gets a little clingy during and after, but I'm only seeing positives with that fr.

[imninakk]

ur artstyle is so cute!! and i love the way u draw mello :3 i lovr ur art sm!!!

aaah I'm glad you like my art :333

Mello has hair that I always suffer to do, I love him and I always want to draw him, but I end up giving up because of his hair

But I'm happy that you like the way I do it, it motivates me a lot ❤️

[gilverrwrites]

AK!Jason who’s inexperienced but far from stupid when it comes to the fairer sex. Once he has you captured with your hands strung up over your head, he knows what he wants to do. His touch is exploratory as he plays with you, noting everything that gets a reaction out of you, like he’s testing some hypothesis. He lets his hands roam your entire body, pausing over your stomach as he marvels over the fact that he could just put a baby in you if he wanted. He fixates on your breasts and slobbers all over them, rubbing his cheek against your nipple before crouching to observe the prize between your legs, the one that no one - not even Batman - can keep him from winning. As he gets more excited, his grip goes from curious to possessive, his observations becoming crude comments, thriving on the fact that he can touch you all he wants but you can’t lay a finger on him, because this Jason can’t stay nice for long.

Anon, dear sweet lovely anon, this will haunt my every waking moment for the forseeable future. What a delight.

Thinking about him incidentally brushing his bare hand across that spot for the first time, whichever one turns you on the most; your neck, your spine, your waist and laughing at how you shiver and whimper for him.

His probing fingers delving between your slit, and something in his brain switches from the aforementioned curiosity to possessiveness when he feels how wet you are. For him. Even chained up and at his mercy, you're body responds to him because it knows you belong to him.

Gently squeezing your clit for the first time and aweing at how your body shudders, at how your folds practically begin to drip, at how soft and warm your inner walls feel when he sinks two fingers in, twisting and scissoring, gaging how well his cock will fit in there, and ooohhh baby, he just knows that tight little cunt was made to fit him just right, and if it doesn’t, he will make it.

I’m just trying to decide logistically which of the following is hotter, cause obviously his helmet has to be off for this. But do you know it’s Jason feeling you up, treating you like an experiment, having his was with your body? Can you see him? See the resemblance to that boy you once knew through all the age progression and scars?

Or are you perhaps blindfolded? Because he’s not ready for you know his identity just yet, because he wants to see if, even on a subconscious level, if you’ll figure it out or if you’re so fucking dirty and desperate you’ll let anyone have at you.

Or maybe it doesn’t matter because you don’t know him at all, he was long dead by the time you came on the scene. Batman’s previous sidekick, a footnote in a story you were never a part of. But he knows you. Joker put your picture on the wall of his cell, his replacement, in his role, wearing his clothes.

He’s been watching you closely ever since he started following Bruce. He knows everything there is to know about the girl who took his place. He knows what shampoo you use, how you take your coffee, where your spare suits are stashed, how you often forget to close your curtains at night when you’re sleeping naked in his old bed. You don’t know him at all, but you’re about to become very well acquainted.  

[redhoodedangel]

Okay, but Arkham! Jason as a dad is literally Rebecca Parham’s mother after finding out she got bit by a bully they were standing up to…

Omg, just…

Jason’s kid: *thoughts* Wait a minute… he didn’t get a call from the principal. He doesn’t know. But that’s not right. He should know… or I got this bite on my arm for nothing…

Jason’s kid: *inhales*… Look what Millie did to me…

Jason: Oh hell no…

*minutes later*

Jason: *kicks in the door to the principal’s office* EXPLAIN YOURSELF, MEATHEAD!

Principal: *absolutely shitting themselves*

Jason’s kid: *Regrets everything almost instantly*

And then Reader is the equally supportive mother who rewards their kid with ice cream or whatever they want at the toy or candy store.