#damian harding shirtless

[actorsperformersandcelebrities]

Damian Hardung as James Beaufort

[mostly-imagines]

Dear God Get Out

jason todd x reader

aka not a moment of privacy

warnings: mild sexual activities, more people than jason would ever want in your apartment during those times

The second Jason’s through the door his arms are out, seeking to pull you into him. You let him engulf you in his arms without thought, this being the first time you’ve seen him all day.

“Missed you,” He mumbles into your shoulder.

You hum and rake your fingers through his hair. “I know. Missed you too.”

He pulls back to look at you and holds your neck gingerly in his hands. “You’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod and kiss his collarbone softly, wrapping your hands around his forearms. He gives your forehead a kiss and walks you backwards to the couch, leaning down over you until you have to sit.

He follows you down and kisses your lips and guides you backwards to lay. He drapes himself over you, inserting himself between your legs. He refocuses his attention to your neck, and sucks at a very particular spot below your jaw that you know he targeted on purpose.

“Okay, that’s not fair.” You breathe out, halfway to a sigh.

“No? How ‘bout this?”

He nips at you, startling you to a near moan. Your reaction only encourages him, as he holds your jaw and tilts your head to the side for more access.

He slips his hand under your shirt, grazing the skin underneath. He leaves open kisses all across your collarbone, trailing them down your stomach once he has your top off and strewn half away across the room.

You stop him, pulling him back up to you for a kiss. He furrows his brows at first, only understanding when you start to pry at his shirt too. He removes it for you, tossing it with startling accuracy right by yours.

He resumes kissing down your body, hands trailing down your sides along with him. He peppers kisses on your thighs and hooks his fingers into the seam of your underwear, readying to remove them.

It’s almost astonishing how silently he'd managed to open the window only to stumble and flail his way to the floor.

The sudden clatter scares the hell out of both you and Jason, who jumps to a stand immediately.

“Tim!”

“Evening. D’you guys still have any—oh.” Tim finally regains his coordination and stands up to see you sprawled out on the couch, bra and underwear your only cover.

His eyes go to the floor real quick and Jason lets out an exasperated sigh, looking around for something nearby to cover you up with.

“—you know, wait up means wait up!”

Oh good, Dick’s here too.

You sit up quickly and try to cover yourself with your arms, though there’s not much of a difference you can really make.

Dick ducks in from the fire escape and lands significantly more gracefully than his counterpart had.

It takes him no time at all to assess the room and see you, knees to chest on the couch, trying very hard to appear as though you’re not half naked. Takes him even less time to see Jason, standing in front of you, fuming.

“Oh. Oops…”

Jason chucks the tv remote at Dick and uses the distraction to pull you up from the couch, pushing you behind him. His massive frame is more than enough to cover what his brothers have no business seeing.

“Get the fuck—”

And just for good measure, Damian jumps down next and crouches in the window.

“Jesus Christ,” your boyfriend mutters, hands covering his face in exasperation.

Damian takes one glance at the room and grimaces—Tim’s eyes are glued to the floor, Dick’s acting as though there’s something very interesting on the ceiling, and Jason’s shirtless. He can’t quite see you behind Jason, though he doesn’t need to in order to guess what he’d just walked in on.

“Ugh, seriously Todd? That’s disgusting.”

You let your forehead hit Jason’s back, thoroughly embarrassed. He reaches back to caress your waist, and you know somewhere in that action there’s a reassurance that he’s going to get them out as soon as humanly possible.

“Yeah, seriously. This is our apartment, demon brat. Get out.”

“Maybe we should come back later…” Dick suggests, a bit more awkward than in his usual character.

Jason glares up at the heavens. “Or never.”

“At least keep it in the bedroom, you animals.” Damian chastises.

Jason suddenly wishes he hadn’t thrown the remote so soon. “Our apartment.”

He looks back at you without moving the shield of his body, eyes apologetic. You meet gaze and turn your head to rest your cheek on him instead, your own hidden meaning of reassurance. It’s fine.

You can’t see them but you hear a shuffle and hope to god it’s not another vigilante.

You place a hand on Jason’s lower back and peer around his shoulder, seeing Tim turned back around towards the window and trying desperately to get Damian to move out of the way—Damian, seemingly having no regard for Tim’s urgency.

You’re not quite sure if it’s over discomfort or embarrassment in seeing you so undressed, or if it’s because his self-preservation kicked in when he saw the look on Jason’s face. Maybe both. Probably both.

Both.

“Will you stop?” Damian slaps his hand away. “We came here for a reason.”

He looks past Tim at you, “Do you have—”

“No.” Jason cuts in, growing visibly more agitated.

Damian’s face contorts as he looks back up to Jason, “What is your—”

Now Dick cuts in, “Okay, that’s fine, we’ll just ask the old man.”

“Great.”

Dick pauses. “On the couch though, Jaybird?”

Jason takes a deep breath.

“Alright, ten seconds, then I get the gun taped under the table.”

That’s warning enough for Damian—he’s called that bluff once before and learned the hard way.

Tim doesn’t even take a second glance before hauling it out of your apartment, his cape getting caught on the window frame briefly before he scrambles away.

Dick calls out an apology to you before trailing out the window after him.

Jason lets out a heavy exhale and turns to you, hands gliding naturally to your waist.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t need to be.”

He gives a low hum and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him as he crashes down onto the sofa.

“Should I feel bad about almost railing you into the couch?”

“I wouldn’t waste any tears over it. Not like it would’ve been the first time we did it.”

He laughs and tugs you further into his chest. You curl into him and close your eyes, thinking.

“Jay?”

“Hm?”

“How did Tim survive as Robin?”

“I’ve been asking that question for years.”

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

Tim: You can't just run around here shirtless! Where's your binder!?

Jason: Shit! Where is my...... Did you forget I'm cis?

Tim:........maybe. It's hard not to when your tits are bigger than mine

Damian: You forgot too, idiot

Jason: Why don't you wait until you're taller than my tits before you run your mouth

Bruce: I will give you each $500 right now to talk about anything else

[blughxreader]

... "Re-connection Session" ...

A/B/O Platonic Yandere! Dick Grayson & Jason Todd x f! Reader

You never should have let Damian sleep in your lap, especially after rejecting Dick and Jason's request for attention. Now you have their jealousy to resolve. ... Dick and Jason are alphas and you are an omega. People can purr in this AU. ... TW: Blurred lines between family and intimacy, post-kidnap, non-consensual touching, forced proximity, being forced to undress, non-sexual nudity, traditional secondary gender roles

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror in silent dread.

Dick's old shirt hung low on your frame, the neckline falling past your collarbones and the hem dropping to your fingertips. The sleeves, thankfully, covered you to your elbows, but the desired effect was the same: easy access to your body.

This, accompanied by your underwear and Jason's basketball shorts were all you were allowed to wear.

Fear sat in your stomach line a rock. You were sure you were releasing enough panic pheromones to alert the whole house, but there was no frantic knocking to save you. Just you, your pounding heart, and the two men on the other side of the door.

Wiping your sweaty hands down your pants, you gave yourself one last look before leaving the bathroom. Dick's bedroom spread out before you, filled with old memorabilia and a large, plush bed in the center.

Dick and Jason were leaning against the wall in wait, arms crossed and heads tilted back. Dick grinned when he saw you.

"Alright, good," he said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. "It's a little late for an afternoon nap, so movie time?"

Dick's scent clung to you like a cologne, sweet and tangy. An alpha's smell was already stronger to omegas, but being wrapped in his shirt and pressed into his side was almost overwhelming. Jason, whose scent was more earthy and metallic, was a small reprieve.

Jason looked you up and down, appraising your posture and expression. You knew it was useless to try to hide your feelings, but you couldn't fight the urge to look away. You crossed your arms to cover yourself.

He reached over and ran a hand over your temple, brushing back stray curls. Jason, while never the most emotive on a day-to-day basis, had a cloudy expression today. His gaze bore into you, drinking up every micro-expression you tried to hide and cataloguing each one.

"No trash TV," Jason finally said. He dropped his hand and fell into stride with you and Dick, who was guiding you to his bed.

Dick dipped his head down so his cheek brushed your forehead. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything is fine."

"Nope, that's not allowed," Dick lightly scolded. "This weekend's all about getting familiar. You need to learn how to go along with the family."

Your mind blanked as you scrambled to remember any move you've ever seen before. Embarrassment pricked your cheeks. "Maybe Pixar..."

Dick stopped you at the edge of the bed. He ruffled the back of Jason's hair before slapping his back, earning his hand a hard swat.

"You first, little wing."

Jason rolled his eyes and climbed on the bed, flopping into place on the silk covers. Dick ushered you on next with gentle hands, not giving you an inch of space as he followed suit.

You were settled into Jason's side, your front pressing into the long expanse of his body. Jason shifted and pulled off his shirt with one hand, tossing it off the bed before leaning back into you.

Your insides lurched at his naked chest, and you were boneless when he guided your head to rest on his shoulder. Jason's body was warm and sturdy. He eclipsed you in ways that made your heart flutter.

You tighten your arms around your chest to keep these stray feelings at bay.

Dick settled behind you with a happy sigh, shirtless as well. He weaseled your arm out of your hold and settled it over Jason's chest to maximize contact, then rested his hand on your waist.

His breath fanned the back of your head when he whispered, "I'm going to lift your shirt up now."

You held back a whimper when his hand slid beneath your shirt, trailing up your stomach to settle between your ribs. His palm spread flat, fingers reaching the better half of your stomach. He was dangerously close to brushing your breasts, but remained careful not to stray too far up.

Jason's hand trailed in next, gliding over your hip and up your spine, where it settled between your shoulder blades. His thumb brushed up and down in slow, even strokes.

They were everywhere. Their arms lay flushed against your body, touching as much skin as they possibly could, while their stomachs pressed into yours where your shirt had slid up. Their nudged your legs until you were tangled in theirs.

As hard as you tried to fight it, it was instinctual for pack members to seek physical contact. Touch was one of the most primal and easiest ways to show affection and community, so you knew that your days of solitude were numbered.

But this...

Tingles spread through your whole body, exacerbated by how touch-starved you were. The feeling of oneness, of unbridled intimacy with your family, sank deep into your heart.

Resist, resist, resist. You're stronger than these urges.

Your breathing accelerated. You knew what to expect going into this, but nothing could have prepared you for how emotionally penetrating it was. It was as if your very nature and mind were at war.

A steady purr rumbled in their chests as they basked in your company, soaking in as much of your warmth as they could. Jason's nose brushed your forehead, placing feather light kisses where he could reach. Dick was crooning.

Cold sweat prickled your skin.

Your hand tightened around Jason's back as claustrophobia set in. The purring turned to a low rumble and the pheromones in the air turned sour.

"Hey," Jason said softly. "You have to settle down."

You swallowed thickly to abate your fear. "You guys got defensive."

Dick nudged his nose on your neck, right above your scent glands. "Because you started smelling scared."

Oh.

You inhale shakily to calm your nerves. Jason hummed in your ear, a low, pleased sound.

"Good girl," he said. "Keep doing that. We have you."

You sucked in a sharp breath in defiance. Jason humphed. Dick laughed against your skin and squeezed your stomach playfully, grinning as he said, "You're as bad as Damian."

They nestled you tighter between them, purrs rumbling anew. Amidst the panic in your chest stirred another feeling. Maybe it's because you're getting drunk on an alpha's attention, but you felt a childish need to complain.

"How long will this take?" You asked, shifting uncomfortably between their sandwiched bodies.

Jason's face tightened around his eyes. "As long as it takes."

"For what?" you asked, frustration bubbling up your throat. "I've more than made up for turning you down yesterday."

"You need to want our touch," Dick said. He hesitated, mulling over if he should continue, then went on. "I think that if you let your guard down for a second and trusted your instincts, you would understand how much you need this."

"My guard is down. I'm completely defenseless," you hissed.

"Not what he was talking about. And that's what I'm not understanding, either," Jason said, frowning. "You're confused. You're completely out of touch with yourself."

The silence was heavy. They were waiting for you to speak, but you didn't trust anything that would come out of your mouth. You let the silence stretch on.

Jason's grimace deepened. "Are you having trouble being an omega because you were never taught how to be one?"

You scoffed, scandalized. Your frustration sparked into flames. "Because I don't know my place in an alpha's narrative?"

"No," Jason said defensively. "Because you don't know how to purr."

You couldn't respond.

You hadn't purred in years because there was no reason to. You weren't young, haven't dated in ages, didn't have any kids, and you definitely weren't about to purr for the Bats.

"I haven't heard you croon either. Or even ask to be held," Dick mumbled in thought.

Heat crept up your neck. They were wading in embarrassing waters now. You weren't a loser, just a little lonely—that's the only reason you stopped doing omegean things. And being their captive was a good enough reason to withhold everything.

These thoughts were enough when you were alone, but the shame creeping up your chest was startling.

Jason's hand drifted to your face, fingers sliding gently over your cheek. He used a knuckle to brush the tears from your eyelashes.

"It's okay to face these scary feelings," Jason whispered, face mere inches away. He looked at you with sad, loving eyes, while his scent was a whirlwind of conflicting emotion. Hope. Pity. Anger. Love.

Dick kissed the shell of your ear, thumb gliding over your skin where his hand rested. A soft rumble drifted from his chest. He said, "You're safe with us. It'll come naturally if you just let it."

The crux was that you didn't want to try. You wanted to withhold every valuable part of yourself from them and to make them pay for ruining your life.

But at the same time, you yearned to have a family. There was a vital part in your heart that was missing, one that could only be filled by belonging and love. You didn't want to ignore your secondary gender but you didn't want to share it with them, either.

Don't whimper. Don't smell like you want help.

You clamped your jaw shut and squeezed your eyes closed. Their pheromones filled the air with comfort, home, want, and it took every ounce of willpower to ignore the alphas' scents.

Jason kissed your eyelid, cupping your head in his palm. His purring and crooning joined Dick's, and it nearly drowned out your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

---

You passed the night in a daze. They nudged you to try to croon or purr, washing you with their scents and physical contact, but their efforts didn't yield results. Outwardly, that is.

Inside, you were swimming with panic and haziness.

Skin-to-skin touching was starting to take a toll on you. In a stronger headspace, you could ignore the pleasant allure of touching them, but your boundaries and primal needs were beginning to blur.

They felt good. They felt safe. You wanted to cling to Jason's chest and sob in relief at finally being wanted. You wanted Dick to keep cooing and petting you like you were the most cherished thing in his life. Each kiss stoked a fire you were desperately trying to put out.

At the same time, your defiance was making them restless. Dick and Jason had begun to smell more potent and move more assertively. Omegas weren't meant to resist their alpha pack members, especially in a domestic setting.

Despite a tiring night of caressing and pleading, you didn't loosen your tight control on your emotions. Dick and Jason were still completely cut off from you, and you could tell they were thinking of ways to get you to fold.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, accompanied by the muffled voices of Sunday morning cartoons. All of you were on Dick's bed and eating in silence.

The soup in your lap was one of Alfred's "sick soups." It was hardy and chock-full of vegetables and pork, and made especially to ease the tension in the room.

Their heavy gazes kept your head bowed as you tried to eat what little food you could.

Dick's bowl clinked as he set it on the floor.

"Submission isn't shameful," he said suddenly. "Is that what this is? You think it makes you less of a person?"

You look down into your soup, lips tightening. "No, I know it's fine... I would just prefer to keep things how they are."

"Why?" Dick said, scooting closer to you.

"It's my choice."

"No, why?" Frustration cut into Dick's voice. "I'm trying to work with you."

"Is bodily autonomy not a good enough reason?" You bit back. "I don't know, Dick. 'No' should be a good enough answer."

Jason's hand touched your back, making you lurch forward. Soup nearly spilled from your bowl, but Dick caught it in time. Jason sighed angrily while Dick set your food on the bedside table.

"This isn't normal," Jason said hotly. "Omegas shouldn't flinch at their caretakers, especially when they're treated as well as you are."

You gripped the bed sheets, guilt filtering in at the truth in his words. "Sorry," you said meekly.

Jason deflated slightly, then brought his hand back up. It settled on the nape of your neck, his large palm cupping the entire surface. Tingles rippled through your body and ignited goosebumps across your back.

Jason rested his head on yours, absently rubbing the scent pad in his cheek on your hair. He said, "Did something bad happen that made you afraid?"

"No," you said quickly. Aside from being kidnapped by them, that is.

Dick moved in closer. His voice was soft. "Then why?"

"I just..." You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your eyes with a palm. "This domesticity just isn't for me."

"You need to practice," Dick reiterated. "Maybe we can give you a simple command and you follow it? So you'll get used to how it feels?"

You peek between your fingers to glare at him.

"No, really. I read some omegean blogs that said yielding to your alpha's orders feels really good." Dick looked between you and Jason hopefully. "Or we can read some articles by older omegas so you know how to handle your feelings?"

You held back a sharp comment about where he can shove those articles. Instead you said, "Only people with religious agendas write those things."

Jason looked like he agreed, but he didn't take your side.

"We can't do nothing," Jason said, eyes flitting up to Dick.

Dick sucked the inside of his cheek. "And she's unresponsive to positive reinforcement and suggestions."

Fear brewed in your gut. "What are you implying?"

Dick touched your knee, drawing your attention to his face. "You need to purr. Or present submissive pheromones. It'll break the dam so everything comes out easier."

A blush swept up your face and you jerked your knee away from him. "You can't just ask that. No. My answer is no."

Dick's gaze returned to Jason's. Dick frowned, then quirked a brow. "People purr to self-sooth, too."

You tensed. "Dick. Stop."

Jason hesitated, face pinching at the fear in your scent. "What do you suggest?"

"Full body contact and commands. It'll overwhelm her, so she'll self-sooth then default to the natural order."

"Jason." Your voice was high and sharp. "Make him stop. This is wrong."

"Jay," Dick said, looking every bit as sincere as he sounded. "I know you're apprehensive, but she won't come to this conclusion herself. She needs to be guided in a controlled environment."

Jason's face screwed up in worry. "It's traumatic."

"Temporarily. She'll be in our care the whole time," Dick reassured him. "It'll be over the moment she submits."

"Please, Jason, no!" You pushed your face into Jason's chest, clinging to his chest. Tears poured down your face as you shook. "I'm sorry, I'll try harder. Whatever this is, don't do it."

Jason's jaw set, the muscles in his neck flexing. "Then purr."

"What?"

"I'm giving you a way out. You have to trigger your primal state and ask for our care. It's not something you can do manually, so start by purring."

"I..." Your breath caught in your lungs. You were too scared to purr, much less seek their comfort for anything.

You swallowed hard and coughed weakly, trying to activate your secondary vocal cords.

Several moments of silence passed before a small huff of a rumble left your throat. It sounded pathetic to your own ears, probably more-so to theirs, and your throat constricted from embarrassment.

"Forcing me won't make me want to... do that," you said weakly, breath hitching from your tears. "Isn't there another way?"

Dick sighed deeply. "Thanks for trying."

He leaned in and kissed your neck, rubbing his hand in comforting circles on your back. You tilted your head to the side to give him better access, still shaking against Jason's chest. Dick smiled softly and kissed your neck again before drawing back.

"Jason," Dick said, "hold her feet down."

Jason's hands clamped around your legs before you could register Dick's words. Your world tilted and you were on your back before you could shout.

"No! Please!" You thrashed against his hold when Dick descended on you.

Dick put a hand on your chest to keep you down, then pinned you with his knee. Your hands clawed everywhere you could reach, but they paid no mind.

"You're fine. You're wearing underwear, right?" Dick asked. His finger hooked on your waistband, pulling it up to confirm. "Yeah. Look, just focus on breathing."

"No! No!" you shrieked as your pants slipped down your thighs.

Jason kept you from kicking, although it probably wouldn't matter either way. Their bodies were hardened from years of vigilante work and they moved together like a machine.

They unhooked your pants from your ankles and dropped it off the bed. You tried to curl into a ball, but their weight on your body kept you immobile.

You begged again, reaching out to Jason for help. His face was twisted in pain but he made no move to stop it. The comforting scent he pushed out did nothing to quell your panic.

Dick hushed you gently, face pleasant and movements slow, and reached for your shirt.

"I'm not wearing a bra!" you shouted hysterically, trying fruitlessly to push his knee off your chest.

Dick looked down at you patiently. "Then slip your arms in your shirt and cover yourself."

You stared up at him with wide eyes. Was he really, really about to do this? Trigger you so it activates your omegean instincts?

When he grabbed the edge of your shirt, your heart jumped up your throat. You wrangled your arms inside your sleeves and covered your breasts as well as you could.

Dick took his knee off your chest and dragged the shirt up over your body. It slid off with ease, leaving you in only your underwear.

You sobbed loudly.

Jason scooped you into his arms and pulled you up the bed. He settled you on a soft pillow, nuzzling his cheek against yours in silent apology.

You immediately curled into a ball when their hands left you. To your horror you saw them strip off their pants as well, leaving them in only their boxers.

"God, stop," you plead, voice breaking.

"It's okay," Dick whispered as he slid into place in front of you. "We do this all the time. It's important."

Perhaps he was referring to the after-workout cuddle piles, but even those had longer pants and chest coverage for girls.

The heat from their bodies sank into your flesh and disrupted your frantic thinking. Your alphas—no, Dick and Jason, you corrected—held you like you were sacred. It was a feeling of your deepest daydreams come true, to have a pack that was so open about their care for you.

If only they hadn't kidnapped you.

The compulsion to accept their love dug deep in your mind, and you found it harder and harder to remember the reasons why you shouldn't. Your anger began to seem trivial compared to the safety and adoration they promised.

Tears fell down your cheeks again, and you clung to Dick's chest to anchor yourself. He laid several kisses on the crown of your head.

"I'm going to give you some orders, okay?" Dick said. "You'll be compelled to follow them."

"I don't want to," you croaked.

"That time has passed," Jason mumbled, stroking your arm with his thumb.

Dick cleared his throat, and your blood ran cold in anticipation.

"Hold Jason's hand." Dick's alpha voice struck you like a cannon.

The command wound around every corner of your mind. It strangled your freewill in a vice hold, suffocating any lingering thoughts of freedom until all that was left was them.

An alpha's command wasn't absolute, but it was damn near close.

Your insides rattle with a urge to hurry, hurry and complete alpha's orders. Make Brother happy.

Cold sweat spread across your back, making you feel sickly and sticky. Your eyesight narrowed to Dick's chest as you fought off the intrusive thoughts, not noticing anything but your vision blackening around the edges.

Please, no no no no no.

Jason's hand hovered next to yours, making it easy for you to obey.

"I... I c-c..." you stuttered.

Follow, follow, follow, your mind screamed at you. Brother will be disappointed.

You clung to Dick's bicep and screwed your eyes shut. A disapproving growl bubbled in Dick's throat.

"Take it," Dick ordered, grabbing your wrist and holding it above Jason's hand. "It's for your own good, so take it."

Jason bumped his head into yours and pushed you towards Dick's neck. You tried to squirm away, but their bodies kept you immobile, leaving your only option to settle your nose into Dick's neck and breathe.

The smell was intoxicating. It was impossible to fight off—his warm and strong scent flooding your head and making your mind melt.

Without you realizing, a broken whine left your throat. Dick and Jason reacted instantly. They hugged you tighter, shushing you and peppering kisses wherever they could reach.

Their scent changed too. Frustration was pushed out by love, comfort, love, and it smothered your senses. You whimpered, your whole body shuttering from your tears.

Fuck, you wanted your alphas so badly. Your brother's comfort enveloped you and left nothing else to do but welcome it.

Your guilt and doubt multiplied at rapid speed. Maybe you were wrong for rejecting this. Being close and following their orders felt as good as Dick had said, so maybe they were right about other things, too.

"She's defaulting" Jason said, words fast and nervous.

You whined again, broken and airy and filled with all the conflicting misery you felt. Your sense of self slipped between your fingers like water, making room for the person they wanted you to become—who you were commanded to become.

The heat of their bodies made your world spin. Their loving touches make your mind blank.

Dick shushed you and cooed comforting words, and the resilient voice in your head silenced.

Oh god, they felt like your soulmates. This seemed predestined, like you were born to be in their family.

Your exposed bodies pressing together destroyed the illusion of self, giving way to their truest law: you were theirs, body and soul.

"One more time," Dick muttered. His voice deepened to say, "Hold Jason's hand."

You moved without thinking. Your fingers tangled into Jason's, your palm laying flat over his hand.

Relief bloomed in your chest, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted. The compulsion was replaced by deep satisfaction, one you found yourself craving again.

You listened and did good. Brothers are happy. You are loved.

Dick's grin was radiant. Tears sprung in his eyes as emotions overtook him, making his blue irises shine like gems. Quiet sniffles came from behind you, and by the jerkiness in Jason's body, you knew he was crying.

"Good girl," Dick praised, voice watery. "My baby."

Jason's nose pressed into your neck, taking shaky breaths of your scent. It calmed him slightly, yet his voice was still uneven. "She's feeling better. Do another one, Dick."

"Kiss me," Dick ordered.

Your lips pressed against his shoulder, and again on his collarbone. Dick laughed and sniffled, unintelligible croons tumbling from his mouth.

Your mind was a haze, unable to process anything but the two alphas around you. Your brothers were here and you were safe. How had you lived without this love for so long?

It was like an avalanche of pent-up emotions poured into your body. You were relieved to be free, angry at the pain you inflicted on yourself, and so, so happy to belong to Dick and Jason.

"I love you," Jason muttered into your hair.

Dick kissed your face, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over your skin. "I love you so much."

Your inner omega melted.

Love, love, love. Their scent consumed you.

You felt defined by their love, and felt like you would be nothing outside of it.

---

Dick's head was light from glee. "Did you see her stumble out of bed? She was still riding that high."

Jason didn't respond. He sat at the edge of Dick's bed while the aforementioned brother paced around his room.

Dick was too worked up to wait for a response.

"I bet it'll only take a week or two before she seeks the pack out. The attention's like a drug, you know. " Dick waved a hand. "I forgot the chemical. Whatever. But she definitely can't go back to being detached."

Jason's stomach squeezed at Dick's prideful smile.

"I feel slimy," Jason said, gripping his hands together tightly.

Dick abruptly stopped. "What?"

Jason didn't respond. He stared up at Dick with a grim look.

Several expressions passed Dick's face before he said, "That's all you took away from this?"

"I've written papers about why overpowering omegas is outdated and wrong."

"Yeah? I agreed too until we had a hurting omega in our care," Dick said. "Besides, if you feel like that then why didn't you say anything?"

Jason's jaw muscles tightened. "I said using an alpha's command was shitty, not unnecessary."

"It was beautiful, Jason," Dick hissed, temper flaring. "And she'll be happier because of it."

Dick stormed out, his good mood evaporated. The door slammed behind him, and Jason waited until he couldn't hear Dick's stomping before heaving a long sigh.

Jason hoped you wouldn't be too upset once you accepted their care. He made a vow to keep you safe and happy, and he would fulfill that promise even if you hated him for it.

Still, it hurt.

Jason's eyes drifted back to Dick's bed, to the spot where you had been lying. He crawled over and laid down, pushing his face into the sheets, and inhaled your fading scent.

---

For more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure - PART 2

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – SMUT,  POLY RELATIONSHIPS, BDSM, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, BLOOD, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) 

I’m going to apologise to you all now, and pre-warn you in advance, this is an absolute rollercoaster of a storyline! Shits about to get REAL REAL REAL messy! 

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure - Part Two

2 WEEKS BEFORE WRESTLEMANIA – 

The speakers inside our home gym were so loud it felt like the walls were shaking, Rhea & Finn had spent a long time creating the perfect set up! It was truly a masterpiece of absolute Hell. From weight racks, dumbbells, treadmills, resistance machines and more, this room had caused some serious pain & suffering to us all. But we loved it. In the middle stood a large wrestling ring in which I had spent a lot of time with everyone practicing over and over and over again. 

We were two weeks out from WrestleMania, I was nervous, but I had worked so hard to earn my chance at the Women’s World Championship title and neither I nor any of Judgment Day were going to let this opportunity pass me by! Finn had said I would be training with him today with the boxing pads in the ring, so I knew I was in for it, I’d made sure to wrap my wrists up tight. 

Damian and Rhea had gone out grocery shopping while Finn and I hit our workout hard, we had planned on enjoying a big family BBQ cook out for our last night at our home before we all hit the road. Dom, who had been asked by Damian to clean up the kitchen had completely ignored the request and was upstairs instead gaming. That boy was a glutton for punishment I swear, I’m convinced he secretly likes being put over Damian’s knee. He’s there more often than not after all! Though I came in at a close second with Finn. Although we both knew if we ever overstepped the mark too far it would be Rhea that we would have to answer to. Mami doesn’t like to be tested. 

“AGAIN! 1-2. AGAIN 1-2.” Finn shouted as the music continued to blast through the room, he held up the pads with a swift punch followed on from me at each demand. 

“AGAIN! 1-2-3. HARDER, STOP PUSSY FOOTING AROUND Y/N! AGAIN 1-2” Finn shouted again, the sweat dripped down his forehead as he maneuvered his way around the ring shirtless, his footwork light as ever and his manhood bouncing in time to the beat of the stereo. He’d worn those black shorts on purpose, I just knew it. 

 “Y/N! FOCUS! 1-2… 1-2-3… 1-2….AGAIN!” 

I swear...my sweat was sweating at this point, we had been going for what felt like hours. I could barely feel my legs, it was like walking on jelly. My heart pounded, my shoulders were shaking, and my arms felt so weak, yet somehow, I was still going. The determination powering me on. 

But that… that bounce. That shape in his shorts. So full and prominent… it was so fucking distracting.  It wasn’t just my face that was wet at this point, in between my legs that devilish pulse grew every stronger. My inner thighs were like a slip and slide on a hot summers day as I tried my best to continue training, the room felt like it was 101 degrees and… 

SMACK.

Finn went down, shit. Id missed the pad completely and instead of hitting the second-round I had completely taken out our Prince, Our lord and savior, the man I so desperately wanted to spread me out across this mat and destroy me.

 I was in for it. I was fucked. 

Raising my hand to cover my mouth for a second, I panicked before moving forward to assist Finn, but he had other ideas. Instead, leaning back onto his shoulders he leapt up to his feet and rushed over pushing me into the ropes, towering over my head and leaning down so I could feel his sweat drip onto my chest as he spat through gritted teeth. 

“THE FUCK…. do you think your playing at lass…. Hmm.” Finn’s eyes looked down on me, what felt like burning a hole into my soul was also still majorly turning me on. 

“I..I..urr…I” I stuttered, unable to fully ground myself in the situation. Between the music still blaring into the room, my heart beating at an uncontrollable pace and one drop dead gorgeous man looming over head, well I was lost in it all. 

Finn launched the boxing pads off his hands in one strong flinging motion before grabbing my hair and hips and throwing me into the corner ring post. He followed over swiftly grabbing one of my legs and tucking it behind the middle rope while still holding a fistful of my hair with the other. 

“Distractions Y/N…Distractions are expensive.” He muttered sternly under his voice as he lent into my ear. 

“Distractions cost titles.” Finn’s breath in my ear sent shivers down my spine. Christ my inner core was melting at the accent that rolled off his Irish tounge. How I would have begged to put that tongue to work in between my legs, id of choked out the dominant prick and drowned him in my orgasm given half a chance. 

Finn ran his hand slowly from my ankle up my leg, stopping at the hem of the mini gym shorts I had borrowed from Rhea. The slogan ‘MAMI’ painted across my backside in bold font was hard to miss. 

“Distractions…” Finn’s voice was husky, heavy and deep. Slightly out of breath and yet completely in control. 

“Lead to temptations…” He ran his hand over the soaked core in between my legs causing me to tense as his hand, for just a moment his hand touched my clit and I swear it was like the devil had sent this man to toy with what was left of my sanity. We had barely begun, and I could have finished on the spot.

Finn leaned back and rested his forehead on mine for a moment before pulling me in, so our lips were millimeters from touching. 

“Those temptations will be granted… After you win that title.” And with that he stepped away, turning his back on me, and retrieving the boxing pads ready to start training again. 

I didn’t move.

My body was stuck, it was frozen in the desperation to be fucked in this ring. It had been weeks, weeks since any of them would take me to bed. Christ it didn’t even need to be a bed, Id of let Finn, Dom or Damien bend me over and fuck me down the alleyway behind the WWE performance Centre if it had meant I could have gotten some release.

Finn stood glaring at me, “Down…now.” I still didn’t move, I thought if I was a brat then he would have to react. Teach me a lesson. 

Taking my leg off the ropes I stood opposite him only a few feet away, initiating the stare down. I was never going to win mind you, but it was fun to press Finn’s buttons. How my inner goddess ached to lay across his lap, to bury that beard between my thighs, to feel his manhood at the back of my throat. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“Don’t test me little girl…” Finn’s voice was harsh now, that sexy playful tinge he usually had was gone. A part of me wasn’t so sure this was a good idea, but then again, it was this or back to training. And I knew which workout I would have preferred.

The Naked one. 

I stuck to my guns, I didn’t move, I didn’t blink, I didn’t break eye contact. 

“Y/N… Raise. Your. Hands” Finn’s words were cold. 

I stayed still. The devil on my shoulder was going for it now. Fuck the prince it said... Literally.

He took his fighting stance and lifted the pads, still I didn’t move. 

“Last Chance…” he warned, seconds before throwing a 1-2 punch in my direction, closing the gap between us. 

I was quick to raise my fists and defend his every attempt. 

1-2, 1-2-3, 1, 1, 1-2, 1, 1-2-3. 

It was relentless, I realized then this was how he would punish me. I was never going to get what I wanted. Instead, he was going to force me to fight, otherwise Id of left this training session with bruises from head to toe. And not the fun kinky kind. 

He carried on, forcing me around the ring in circles, my breath heaving, music still going as the volume seemed to increase, the sweat now dripping from every inch of my body as his jabs kept coming, and coming, and coming. 

Suddenly, the gym door smashed open, and Dominik fell through it tumbling to the floor, closely followed by a rather furious Damian and unimpressed Rhea. Neither had seemed too pleased to come home and find the kitchen still a mess from breakfast while Dom Dom had elected to level up on WWE2K instead. 

I turned my head for a split second at the noise and… well… BAM. 

The pain ran through my head like electricity from a lighting bolt. As if reality had come in that moment, silence fell. Slamming down on the map I grasped at my eye, my vision half blurred and teary as I curled myself up onto my knees with my head in my lap. 

“OW! THE FUCK!” I shouted in Finn’s direction; he knelt down next to me pulling my hand away to view an already blue bruise forming around my left eye. I could barely see him properly, but even in silhouette form he was gorgeous. A complete twat who had just given me a black eye 2 weeks before my big WrestleMania match, but still gorgeous. 

“Told ya lass..” Finn chuckled, “Distractions cost titles!” With that he stood up and pulled the pads off his hands before grabbing a towel from the side and throwing it over to me. 

From the other side of the room Damian towered over Dom, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt. 

“Upstairs. NOW.” His voice was hash and honestly, I think poor Dom knew he had made a mistake. But I was still  jealous, I would have traded spots with him in a heartbeat just so Damian could have broken me apart instead. There may be 206 bones in the human body, but Id let Damian make it 207, EVERY. DAY.

Dom scrambled to his feet and sped off upstairs with Damian following close behind him. Rhea laughed and walked over switching off the sound system before heading to a little mini fridge, she grabbed a quick snap ice pack and wrapped it in a blue paper towel before hopping up onto the side of the ring. 

I scooted my way over and climbed under the bottom rope taking a seat next to her. Tears still in my eyes and with the Ice pack in hand she held it up to my face brushing the loose hair away that had escaped my messy bun. 

I looked longingly into her eyes, hoping she would see the desperate need I had for her. Not even just in the bedroom, just to be held. I felt tired, broken and now thanks to Finn...sore. I was nervous for this upcoming match, truth be told I was absolutely terrified and I just needed to feel loved. 

Rhea smiled at me, gently kissed my cheek and hopped off the ring apron, heading for the door. One hand on the frame she stopped for a moment and looked back over her shoulder at me and smiled. 

“Sorry Bunny, rules are rules. No distractions.” Rhea said before closing the gym door behind her. 

I don’t know why I felt so hurt in that moment, they weren’t being cruel. It was standard with anyone, 100% focus on the upcoming championship. 

Win the belt. Win the belt. Win the belt, become a champion. 

Reality bought me back to earth when my phone buzzed on the gym floor, I looked down to where I had discarded it, prior to stepping in the ring with Finn. Tossing it around like it didn’t cost thousands, typical gym behavior. 

Jumping down off the apron, I sat on the floor with my back to the ring, I could hear the faint mumbled sounds of Damian upstairs and wondered for a second just how much trouble Dom had gotten himself into. Honestly boy, just load the dishwasher. It isn’t that hard. 

Shaking my head and smiling I attempted to unlock my phone screen with facial recognition but the ice pack put a stop to that plan. Instead tugging with my teeth at the sweat soaked hand wraps I was wearing I managed to get them off and using my Pin I unlocked the screen. 

Time Stopped. 

It stood still. 

Shit. 

Two messages. 

One from an unknown number i didn't recgonise, and one from a very well-known number I needed to forget.

KNOWN NUMBER – ‘Nothing makes us as lonely, as our secrets Y/N. You know where to find me…’ 

UNKNOWN NUMBER –  ‘Locker Witnesses’

[joannasteez]

the sex life of evie moore - “are you still in love with me?”

summary: after a tumultuous relationship, with a more than cordial ending, evie moore seeks to spend the rest of her college experience having a bit of fun

authors notes & warnings: this is purely indulgent. contains explicit descriptions of sex and talks of relationships, romantic or otherwise. super big shoutout to @harmshake , she is inactive but has been an immense collaborator in terms of plot points and ideas.

word count: a chill 2,000. if you look through my masterlist this is baby food. can't promise that for the later parts.

genre: alternative universe - college

mentioned characters include but are not limited to, cm punk, damian priest, roman reigns, cody rhodes, rhea ripley... so on and so forth. aforementioned characters are not owned by myself.

evie—the formality of yvette is a little too wiry for this sort of thing isn't it?—knows punk—he goes real stiff when he hears "phil"—pretty well. well enough. maybe a little too much. like an overconsumption that dampens the taste of a thing almost. almost. she knows his blonde box dyed hair, the forever chipped polish coating his nails and that metal labret hanging off his lip that gives his face more personality than he needs. because he's a fucking well of that shit already. an obnoxious pepsi logo tattoo taking up residence on his arm, bags under the eyes that make him look more teasing than unwell, and this growing 'turn all my shirts into tanktops' obsession she can't quite understand just yet. 

vanilla on his skin. warm. like autumn. and mint on his tongue. always. evie knows punk, not enough for it to be banal, but like it's routine. the sun rises, the earth rotates, and unless some God level event stops that meticulous flow then it'll always be that way won't it? but what about the unknowns. the new. the different. the must be found. 

other fishes in the sea, other stars in the galaxy, that sort of thing.

cm punk's queen sized bed has an evie sized dent in it. 

the break up was a year ago. 

"are you still in love with me?'"

he's mid-kiss, shirtless and already half-hard. tucked intimately into her neck. mint lingering on the skin from his mouth. but he's huffing now. the sort of emptiness that comes from interruption. releasing the sure-to-bite—the kind she likes— grip on her thigh he'd have if he held on any longer. "don't do this please". 

"i'm being—"

"serious...", eyes rolling with the rest of him to splay out. "i know. that's the problem". 

and evie scoffs, because never has her delusions about their...relationship...taken her so boldly as to be wrong this bad. there has to be something there. a deep infatuation lingering maybe. a full year removed from calling it quits but scheduling sessions for sex still and saying things that sound a little like 'i love you'. he had to be caught up somewhere in that terrible storm of affection, even after all this time. right? turning over to reach for a used up sketch book. and if he wasn't then why did he— 

"you still draw sketches of my pussy".  

the pages sound with a quick whipping slap. like the memory of seeing her vagina drawn in such meticulous detail—shadows, highlights and the like—is too much of an unusual thing to forget or be regular about. 

the part of his lip where his labret sits, lifts. a lopsided smirk thats all arrogance. the type that tends to bleed off talent. the type that goes on unashamed and blemish-less, even when evie shoves the sketch in his face for some faux disturbed dramatic effect. "you're gettin' up in arms about grade A georgia o'keeffe inspiration babe". 

and she just has to laugh. a snort that works a bit dirty, because even his seriousness is so damn unserious. pulling up to kneel next to the casual way he lays against the bed. sinking into that evie-shaped-dip like he's comfortable. thats the problem. too comfortable. "this is the birthmark on my vulva dumbass". 

"that you didn't even know existed till i told you". snatching up the book to a close. access to vagina portraits suddenly denied. a scowl etching just enough to be seen, and just enough to make those natural bags beneath the eyes less teasing and more full of brooding. like maybe there was a life of pride living for those little drawings. for the musings and bits of details that took a particular sort of painstaking effort, considering it all must've been from memory. a life—at the hands and words of evie moore—that so abruptly faced a deep erasing. "y'know how many chicks would dig me sketchin' their pussy?"

"you mean you're $25 pop up shop, vertical ID, groupies?" 

"you were 19 when we met at a pop—"

the fluff of a pillow snatching up in her hand before its smushing against his face. hushing those lies that aren't lies really. her thighs drawing up over him to straddle for a better angling. "a month, i was a month from 20, and you were salivating for crumbs of attention...", she jokes. whacking him with the pillow before he's rolling to get over on her. a smirk fighting not to pull it's way across his mouth. "...practically begged for my number".  

his fingers pull against her thigh for a pinch. the tease of the act making her jump before he's easing up along the bed and her body again, assuming a similar position to where he began before the dropping of that fully loaded question. hooking into the band of her underwear for a short tease of a tug against the cotton. "you were thumbin' down your miniskirt for a hip tattoo just so i could see the color of your thong", that sure smell of mint curling closer till it lingers in her nose. the metal hooking his lip, a cool ghost of a sensation as it makes to touch. a test of a kiss. shy and fresh tasting. 

her eyes roll, knowingly even. "what color was the thong punk?"

and this smile can't be helped much. the sort that breaks even and eager from memory. toothy and unrelenting. the sort he attempts to hide in the safety of placing a deeper kiss at her lips. a simple slotting pull. because if he's sketching her vulva and all the intricacies thereof from memory, then surely he'll remember this. 

punk's teeth snag at her mouth, the slight of it playing at something prickly, for his own amusement, before he's slipping tongue and curling it over for a short languid kiss. mumbling, "that's not the point...", settling into his own satisfaction with a moaning hum. evie's body warm and so naturally ready. eager. her legs moving under his touch to wrap about him and her fingers this gentle file through his hair. "...it was baby green, but thats not the point...", chuckling as he moves to kiss elsewhere. a wet trail to her pulse. tugging with those hooked fingers again at her panties. pressing and sweeping between her legs till he's pushing and prodding at the seat of them with a circling thumb. 

but evie hates this. her inabilities anyways. never able to be quiet. because any suggestive touch is met by breathy little nothings that urge him forward into something more sure and exacting. and never able to stick to her guns either. or at least as far as punk is concerned. the many off again-on again periods of their romance, and then the post-called it quits rendezvous', serving as bittersweet proof. tender noise strumming up her throat even now, from the steady touching and petting and amorous maneuvers. surely to quiet her questions. a lax press into where the blood is beating at her neck, wet and smooth and rolling enough till she's squirming and squeezing him closer. 

"...salivating implies a ton of shit that sums up to lies...", he hums. amused. pushing off to bring himself further down the bed and between the heat of her thighs. pressing gentle to spread. the cool metal hooking over his bottom lip playing at the tempered skin. "...because if i remember correctly, not too long after, i was the one changing pillow cases and sheets, 'cause a certain somebody couldn't keep her mouth shut long enough to stop the drool from comin' out".

a sharp breath cuts. a heavy exhale that almost feels like relief, if not for the inhale to follow. her hips hitching as punk lets his tongue run warm at her inner thigh. 

her words breathy and unstable. "you want me to apologize for enjoying dick?" 

"you could actually stand to sing my praises more often". 

a huff.  evie coming up to lean against her elbows. brows pulling in. a dissatisfaction coloring her eyes that clues punk in on an undesirable outcome of blue balls. "s'not like im singin' anyone else's".

theres no use in rousing her up is there? inspiring a pleasure she won't enjoy much, not when she's in her head and picking at her thoughts to the bone. but that somber streak about her face does the same to ill him a bit as much as the possibility of blue balls. does even more maybe. "this isn't a 'lets get back together' talk is it?", he asks, moving from between her legs and off the bed to grab a t-shirt. 

it isn't at all some mortifying ordeal, but it is a terrible one, given past instances. the lovers quarrels were interesting to put it lightly, and endless to put it plainly. 

evie's legs pull in to cross. "no". 

"ok, good...", plopping down to lay beside her. a run of something under his skin, inklings gathering from that far away, thoughtful look to her that she can't shake. "...talk then. what's goin on?"  

and maybe, this is why, despite the numbered futile efforts at a deeper romance, punk would never truly leave evie. because to leave, would mean forsaking these moments; pitfalls into an uncovering of some long time introspection. thinking so harshly that her over-thoughts are overthought. his hand reaching to her arm with this pulling sort of caress. an invitation. intimacy with no complicated elements to follow. her body shifting into him in such a way that her head lays to tuck into his neck. warm breaths that stick sweetly to his skin. a leg thrown over his waist that waits for the comfort of his hand. 

they were at their best this way. in the quiet of some uncategorized affection. 

punk gives in rather easily. melts into the her-shaped dent of his bed, an arm coming around to hug her in and the other letting his fingers take to that leg falling over his waist. a simple touch that finds her hip. thumbing to draw beneath her panty line at the shape of a tattoo. 

a small, thin lined, bunny etched into the skin, done up from way back during the first try of their relationship. 

"you're my first for a number of things", she gives. pulling up to look him in the eyes. 

"i am...", his thumb falling away to hook into her knee. pulling her closer. "...for most things". 

"i don't know, i just—", the words attempting to form at an uneven pace. "i feel like i'm lacking in experience. like the only person i know in this way is you and i'm missin' out on other people because we—"

"you feel like i'm forcing you to have sex with me?" 

"no! no", rushing in to salvage her thoughts. or trying to at least. her forehead falling to rest at his chest. a heavy exhaustion coming from all the inner over-scrutinizing. "thats not what i'm saying". 

but if punk were to say that he's completely clueless about the matter, that'd be a lie. caught in this liminal space for quiet a while. a year to be exact. months of a stagnant comfort they'd made into a resting place. functioning like the couple they'd always hoped to be, but formed like something else. never able to shape and mesh just right enough to make the work of it long lasting. 

the arm he's got hugging her in drops to let his palm run a course along her back. "we might've blurred the lines a little".

evie snorts. 

"a little bit yeah". 

because no shit. 

"listen eve...", stitching sentiment together with the delicate pull of a needle. and the tenderness as he begins here catches her up so well till they're stuck at the eyes. "...you know i got a lot of love for you, considering all the sketches of your eyes and your nose and your vulva...", the both of them smiling at his choice of inspiration. "...but we both know how terrible it gets when we try making sense of anything past this...", his finger motioning about the bedroom. "...the sparks always fly a little too hot for our own good before somebody is left burnt. you find yourself wanting to roll around with someone else, don't stop on my account thinkin' it'll hurt me". 

"it won't?"

punk brings his mouth to place a kiss against her forehead. the warmth lingering as he makes to answer. "no". 

[bizbat]

And I Wake Up Alone.

~ Bruce Wayne x Black!Fem!Reader

~ Mild Smut

~ Angst

~ Wc: 880

~ The first part in a series based on Amy Winehouse's discography

~ Crossposted to AO3.

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ It's hard loving Bruce.

It's okay in the day, I'm staying busy.

Tied up enough so I don't have to wonder where is he.

Got so sick of crying, so just lately,

when I catch myself, I do a 180.

I stay up, clean the house, at least I'm not drinking.

Run around just so I don't have to think about thinking.

It's not hard to love him.

It's not hard to care about him, he's probably the most selfless man you've ever met. It's not hard to be comforted by his presence, there's something so soothing about his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. It's not hard to find him beautiful, even the parts of his skin that have been marred with scars still get soft kisses whenever he's shirtless in your presence. It's not hard to love Bruce. It's just hard to be in love with him.

It's hard knowing that some nights, he won't be coming back to bed. That one night he might not come back at all. And it's not too much different during the day. So you stay busy. In the morning, you get dressed, wake up Damian and Duke, and together you go eat whatever Alfred's made for breakfast. Then you go to work. Throughout those eight hours you keep yourself occupied, sometimes with work that's not even due till next week, just so you have something else to focus on.

Then, when work is over, you go home. You help with whatever homework Duke is pretending (for your sake) to struggle with, watching documentaries with Damian where he will correct the narrators, and having tea with Alfred after dinner.

That silent sense of content that everyone gets

just disappears soon as the sun sets.

It's almost perfect.

He's fierce in my dreams, seizes my guts.

He floods me with dread,

soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.

Pour myself over him, moon spilling in.

It's almost perfect when he slips into bed beside you, the alarm clock on the dresser beside you reading 3:49 AM. It's almost perfect when his scarred hands brush over your soft, brown skin, caressing your sides and pressing chapped kisses to your neck and shoulders. When his hands and tongue give you all the love he neglects from you during the day, kissing, and sucking, and stroking. When he holds you to his bare chest, your hearts beating in tandem with one another. When he holds you tightly, as if he's trying to consume you in the sweetest, gentlest way possible.

And I wake up alone.

It's not perfect when you dream of him. When you can so vividly see the announcement of his death on the front page of The Gotham Gazette. Or when you see him laid in his casket, his face and hands red with blood and dark with bruises, ready to be buried beside his parents. It would be a nightmare if it wasn't so prophetic, if it wasn't true.

If I was my heart I'd rather be restless.

The second I stop the sleep catches up and I'm breathless.

As this ache in my chest, as my day is done now,

the dark covers me and I cannot run now.

My blood running cold, I stand before him.

He, surprisingly, is still there when you jolt awake. He's there when you're rapidly breathing in and out, terrified at the prospect of what will likely be his future.

It's not the feeling of his cold hands rubbing "comforting" circles into your skin, or the almost robotic way he tells you to breathe, or the sip of icy water he gets out of bed to get for you that calms you down.

It's the feeling of his weight in the bed beside you, his strong thigh lightly pressing against your own, the warm concern in his eyes that brings you back to Earth. He pulls you into his chest and you just breathe him in. All of him, the clean scent of his skin after his shower, the flowery detergent that you insist on using for your bedsheets, the smokey scent that seems to always accompany him no matter what. Once he sees that you've calmed down, once your heart returns to beating at its normal pace, he asks what’s wrong.

It's all I can do to assure him.

"Nothing."

When he comes to me, I drip for him tonight.

Drowned in me, we bathe under blue light.

He doesn't believe you, he's not stupid, but he knows it's not something you want to talk about. He can't blame you. He never wants to talk when you ask him what's wrong. So he won't make you. Instead he lets his gaze linger on your own, his lips press to your own, lets you love him. Let's you be in love with him. He lets you be soft against his muscles. And you let him be firm against your plush body. You let him love you back. Still wrapped in his warm, slightly sweaty, embrace, the both of you drift back off to sleep, legs intertwined and bonnet slightly askew. 

And I wake up alone.

And I wake up alone.

And I wake up alone.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

love, love, love your writing, esp your jondami. do you have any domestic jondami headcanons?

Neither one is The Cook of the family, but rather, they cook together. Damian cooks lavish foods from around the world and Jon cooks classic American dishes. One might take lead, but they both cut and wash the food etc. But it's up to the lead of the night to decide if they eat at the table or on the couch.

Their date nights are disgustingly mundane. They watch bad movies or binge TV shows. Jon is so amused when they watch mysteries or true crime shows because Damian likes to play a little game with himself of how fast he can solve the crime. He once solved it before the reporter finished their opening explanation. Jon thinks it's the cutest thing in the world.

They foster animals from the local shelter. It's surprisingly Damian who has to reel Jon in to not foster fail every single one. They have foster failed at least three times though.

Jon purposefully hides Damian's fancy, rich boy clothes and forces Damian to 'borrow' his sweaters/sweats because he likes how Damian looks in them. Damian sometimes does something similar with Jon's shirts because he likes seeing his hubby shirtless, and because he thinks it's funny how flustered Jon gets when he sees Damian looking at him.

They have a spare bedroom (or more) that are specifically set up for when their brothers and Cass inevitably show up. Whether it is because they had a hard day, are mad at one of their other hero family members/friends, or if they're injured, the room has everything needed both for them to take care of their siblings, or for the siblings to take care of themselves if Jon and Damian aren't there. Anyone is welcome at any time, but Damian mails Tim and/or Connor physical invoices at their own homes to be annoying.

Damian initiates the couch cuddling, and will blanket-burrito himself/himself AND Jon without a word and just lean against him. When they go to bed, Jon makes himself big spoon before Damian can call it most of the time. But he likes to be little spoon when he's upset, and Damian is more than happy to be so for him.

[gimmemore14]

I wanna know about the zombie AU!

Yes!!! Sorry for the late response but I am almost the most excited about this one hahaha

Basically Bruce is the leader of a survivor’s compound and is oppressively vigilant and distrustful of the outside, will barely let Dick out to help on supply runs unless he’s going too, but then Damian gets taken.

Bruce wants a full lockdown and information before putting together a team, dick says fuck that I’m heading after him immediately

Meets a stranger on the road… thinks he can help… Dick probably shouldn’t talk to strangers.

Snippet with zombie typical violence/gore under the cut!

Dick gave up begging to the crowd pretty quickly, it only brought jeers and projectiles down upon him. The other kids in this pit don’t learn as quickly. He wanted to yell across the labyrinth to warn them to be quiet but then it’d lead the moans of the undead to him.

Instead he skirts the walls, avoiding the particularly rowdy spectators to try to reach the other three souls trapped down here with him. He hasn’t seen a zombie yet, but the twisted game master said it was going to be a “fair fight” this round; four humans against four of the undead, no weapons except for what the crowd might throw down.

Dick is pissed he allowed himself to be tricked into these sick games, he should’ve known better. He should have listened to B when he spoke of the monsters that hungered for blood and flesh in a way more depraved than the undead.

He stuffs down his righteous anger and focuses on finding the others. If they can stay together he can protect them, they have a better chance of survival as a group. From what he could see of the other ‘contestants’, they were all much younger than his twenty. He moves quickly, the face of a particular boy stuck in his head; dark hair and so very young- probably as young as Damian- fourteen and no more.

Dick freezes as he hears feet shuffling on the other side of the wall with that tale-tell slow, awkward gait. As quietly as he can, he backtracks and turns down another corridor. He knows he is faster than them, but that is his only advantage down here. Without a weapon, he can’t afford to be surprised or backed into a corner.

Close by, the crowd’s cheers have gotten louder. However, underneath the din he can still hear the blonde girl’s begging, promising the bloodthirsty crowd anything if they get her out. Her sobs turn quickly into screams and Dick forgets caution and sprints towards her.

He skids to a stop, finding two of the undead cornering her. She fends them off with a weapon that looks like a mop handle filed into a spike. His stomach turns as he realizes she is shirtless. A man in the crowd, with a face as grotesque as any zombie’s, holds her shirt to his nose and inhales while watching her fight.

Dick doesn’t kill humans, hell he doesn’t even like killing zombies, but that man has made his list.

He throws himself at one of the zombies as the girl stabs at the other. They tumble to the ground and Dick makes sure to use his legs to keep space between him and the gaping maw full of teeth and disease. As he distances himself, the rotted man swipes out with a hand. The undead use the full strength of their muscles until they snap or rot away, Dick doesn’t want one catching hold of him. He blocks but the zombie’s forearm gives too easily under his fingers, meat and tissue slough off in his hand even as the arm keeps reaching for him.

Swallowing his vomit down, Dick rolls up to his feet. Before the zombie can follow he knocks it back down with one kick and drives his heel into its skull to finish it off.

He pulls his foot out of the gore with a wet sound and turns to check on the blonde.

She stands above the corpse victorious, breathing hard but with a relieved smile.

He easily returns it, until icy horror grips his heart.

Dick should’ve listened closer to the crowd, should’ve realized their excitement was not for their success but at the prospect of more blood.

A brutalized hand reaches for the girl before he can warn her and latches onto her. He’s in motion before either of them can utter a word.

The skin on the zombie is still pink, the blood vibrant; he’s newly turned, one of the other contestants.

With his strength and musculature still intact, she can’t break free to grab the stake out of the dead zombie’s head. The freshly undead teen pulls the blonde back towards him as her eyes helplessly meet Dick’s, she turns resigned as his teeth tear through her neck like butter.

Dick screams louder than she does.

The spray of blood from her carotid artery hits him as he slides on his knees to retrieve the weapon, pulling it out and stabbing it under the zombies chin with one fluid motion. Her body hits the floor before the corpse’s, Dick only hesitates a second to check for a pulse before driving the stake through her head as well.

Tears flow well in his eyes as he reminds himself she was already gone, no pulse, he doesn’t need any more of the undead in here with him.

Swiping his vision clear, he stays on the ground to catch his breath. He tries to block out the crowd but it’s hard when what they’re yelling is so disgusting.

“Strip and I’ll toss you a dagger!” One old man offers.

“Agree to be mine and I’ll throw down the ladder, handsome.” A venomous looking woman entices.

Dick grabs a handful of gravel and flings it up into the crowd as hard as he can. In the cacophony of pain and anger he gets to his feet and heads back into the maze, away from the main crowd looking down on him. He can’t waste his time screaming at them, they are just lucky the walls are too high for him to climb.

As he makes his way into areas he hasn’t explored he counts what players are left, two zombies and the kid. Dick tries to stay hopeful as he searches, further encouraged after taking down another one of the undead with no fresh blood on his mouth. He keeps his faith that the boy is alive. He’s gotta be.

Soft sobbing draws his attention as he gets near the back corner of the pit. There’s no spectating crowd forming here yet so it’s blessedly quiet. He finds the youngest contestant cowering on the ground, his knees drawn up tight to shield his sweaty, fearful expression.

Dick is careful to call out to the boy before approaching, scaring him off is the opposite of his goal. “Hey, hey you’re alright. I’m here now, we can fight the last one together. Are you with me, bud?”

The boy lifts his head at Dick’s voice but his face stays miserable. Tears cut clean tracks through the grime on his skin, it only accentuates the boyishness of his round cheeks.

It's only then that he notices how ghostly pale the kid looks.

Dick’s feet slow to a shuffle, finally taking a second to look at the whole picture.

The boy still doesn’t respond to him, simply raising his hand to swipe at the snot running from his nose.

Fresh blood, bright red, runs down his forearm.

It’s instinctual the way he shies back from the kid.

“Shit!” He curses, shoving a hand into his hair. Dick grips his roots painfully, trying to ground himself. “Fuck… it-it’s okay, we can still figure this out-”

Maybe it wasn’t a bite? There’s many ways to bleed down in these pits. He could be fine. It’ll be fine. Dick just needs to clean it up to get a good look at it and-

“He’s been bit, Grayson,” A familiar voice mocks from above. “It’s definitely not okay, you’re a little too late.”

Anger snuffs his panic like a bucket of ice water as he takes in the Mercenary above him. “You motherfucker, this is all your fault!” He accuses, gritting his teeth against more rage that wants to boil out. “Get me out of here now. We had a deal!”

Slade’s mouth quirks up as he pulls out a cigarette and lighter. “Think you’re mistaken, kid. I never agreed to anything.”

“The fuck you did! You went back on your word when we both needed each other’s help,” Dick seethes.

The man inhales unhurriedly before taking it out to answer. He squats down so Dick can better see his face. “That’s where you’re wrong, kid,” he taunts. “You needed help, I needed bait. Can’t get through those doors without bringing along fresh meat.”

Slade flicks open a small pocket knife, tests the edge on his arm hair before folding it back up and tossing it at Dick’s feet. “I’m almost sorry to do this to you, but you’re quick and you’re crafty. Keep your head on and I bet you’ll make it a few more rounds.”

In the rage-inducing presence of Slade, the boy and the last zombie are all but forgotten.

Dick is shaking, holding himself back from throwing the knife right back where it came from. He still bends to retrieve it and clenches it tightly in his fist. He’s not quite dumb enough to throw away a weapon.

But god, he’d been so stupid.

B taught him- trained him- not to rely on anyone, yet he had trusted the mercenary and followed him blindly into hell. The raiders arrived just after Slade left camp that night, nothing’s a coincidence out in the Empty.

Dick knew the man was dangerous but he seemed honest. He never actually lied, just artfully concealed his intentions. Dick was right to be wary in the beginning, he’s furious with himself that simply having his opinion listened to and a few, gruff but kind words was all it took to lower his guard. He won’t let it happen again.

Slade stands, flicking his cigarette butt into the pit beside Dick. “Good luck kid, you make it out of here, come find me and I’ll give you the fight you’re burning for.”

Dick is suddenly jolted out of his anger, the very person who put him in here could be his only hope of getting out. He’s got nothing to bargain with except his own body and a hunch.

“Your daughter was wrong about you,” Dick says to Slade’s back as he starts to leave.

The mercenary’s muscles ripple with tension as he freezes, his head turning to zero in on Dick. Slade’s voice is dangerously low, nearly a growl as he demands, “What did you say?”

Dick can’t help the victorious smile that takes over his face. “That first night, you said you were looking for someone, never said who, but then I saw a girl with white hair and a familiar type of arrogance… and I knew.”

“When did you see her, is she still here?”

“No. They took her, the same place they took my little brother. You get me out of here and I can lead us there.” He bargains, crossing his arms defensively.

Even from the pit, Dick can tell Slade is grinding his teeth.

“Tell me where they took her and I’ll consider pulling you out.”

Dick can’t help but laugh, “I may have been naive, but I’m not stupid.”

Slade’s raised eyebrow begs to differ. “You aren’t ready for what it means if I get you out of here,” he warns ominously.

Dick scoffs, “I’ve been on the run before, Bruce is harder to lose than these fuckers.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. We aren’t running, I’m not blowing my cover for you.” Slade’s eye traces Dick’s body lasciviously, taking time to contemplate his next words before speaking. “If I pay them for you, then you’re mine, in all the ways you aren’t prepared for.”

Dick’s face turns red, finally realizing why only the pretty ones get spared. “You’re sick.”

“I’m realistic and I don’t do charity work.” Slade lets his words settle in, clawing their way under Dick’s skin. When his horrified expression doesn’t change, Slade shrugs, “That’s unfortunate, but I’ll find her on my own just as easily. You had potential, kid, but you’re too soft for the world outside your daddy’s walls…”

The man waits on the edge of the pit- giving Dick one last chance to change his mind- before turning his back again. It’s enough to pull a desperate, involuntary response from Dick, “Wait!”

Slade pauses, his head just barely visible to Dick beyond the pit walls. “Please, wait. My brother was shipped off to the same place as your daughter, he needs me. I-if I accept, you help get him out too.”

He glances over his shoulder, unmoved. “You are not in a position to negotiate-”

“PLEASE. Whatever you want from me: I”ll do anything, BE anything. Just promise.” Dick swallows the lump in his throat before using his last bit of ammo. Either Slade will pull him out after this or he won’t have to live knowing he failed his little brother. “Rose said you were a man of your word, don’t make her a liar.”

Slade twists around before Dick can blink, his glare pinning him in place like a physical entity. The mercenary’s controlled mask slips and all that’s left underneath is rage. It’s poisonous, all consuming… Dick can’t look away. He tries to take it back, he’s never miscalculated this poorly before meeting Slade, but the man cuts him off.

“You still want to get out of there, still want to belong to me?” Slade asks in a voice terrifyingly devoid of emotion.

Dick forces his fear-frozen body to respond, he can only manage a miniscule nod.

“Prove it. Kill the boy.”

He recoils immediately, “No!”

Slade tilts his head at the kid, “He’s at death’s door anyway, all you’re doing is shortening the wait time.”

Dick finally becomes aware of just how shallow the young boy’s breathing has become while he’s been arguing with Slade. He looks at the kid, who raises his head to meet his gaze. His face is empty of blood, lethargic but sweating profusely, he could turn at any moment… but he’s still just a boy right now. His pulse is so strong, he can see the poor kid’s heart looking like it wants to escape his chest. Dick’s face crumples in distress, turning to Slade in hope of finding any sympathy in his expression.

Slade’s face is as cold and closed off as ever. “He’s just about your brother’s age, isn’t he?” The mercenary asks as if just realizing.

Dick doesn’t remember starting to cry, it blurs his vision as looks back at the boy whose chin has started to tremble.

“We- we don’t kill the living,” Dick says, tilting his chin up as defiantly as he’s able to.

“That hippy shit is gonna get you killed someday, don’t let it be today,” Slade warns. “Kid’s only got a few more minutes, why’s it so wrong to put him out of his misery?”

“I won’t do it,” Dick nearly shouts. “It’s Bruce’s one rule-”

“Please,” A weak voice interrupts him. “Please… just do it. I don’t want to be a monster.”

[honeyandthmoon]

ranting about wonder woman's daughter (spoilers ahead)

I gave tom king the benefit of the doubt so many times and i liked some of his most controversial stories... i have lots of his books in my shelf, but that's just insane to me, wonder woman is my favorite one, this is just garbage.

retconning the contest/trial just to have diana punch her mother? to have lizzie punch diana?

it still sucks for me that his idea was to create the sovereign, a "joker/lex luthor" type of menace as if she doesn't already had villains powerfull enough to give her a hard time. it still sucks that he decided to give diana a daughter even if fury still exists (somewhere in the multiverse). and it's not her first child in recent years too! who remembers that one justice league story from a few years ago when they gave her a son that she supposedly abandoned because he was a boy? oh in the same storyline where hyppolita became a mindless monster (also called the sovereign!). that's just recycling of bad ideas. but he probably didn't even knew about that. probably just a bad coincidence. and that's me again giving him the benefit of the doubt.

it still sucks that lizzie is not her biological daughter. it still sucks that she's called wonder woman's daughter when diana herself doesn't see herself as a mother. it still sucks that she's called wonder woman's daughter when diana didn't even raise her? what is up with those weird stories of jon and damian raising her? wonder robin? a mural of batman and superman in themyscira? with batman front and center? IN THEMYSCIRA???

if she's not her biological daughter and was saved by diana and trained as an amazon, what differs her from donna? and why aren't donna and cassie part of her upbringing? why are the supersons responsible for this child?

what's the point of giving diana a daughter if you strip her of every aspect of motherhood?

I defended g willow wilson against people online who hated her run, i thought she was so great, even if she didnt knew much about her at the beginning but she at least was able to reconcile diana and veronica (sort of) and bring her back to themyscira, continue previous plots from the rucka's run and bring ares back (bonus point for putting steve always shirtless and in need of saving)

i was even one of the few that actually enjoyed becky cloonan and michael's run. the stories sure could've been better planned but they got the spirit, build a strong wonderfam in activity and set the ground for a more modern structure of amazons in this new context. they gave me etta and diana acting truly as friends, they gave me three founding mothers for themyscira, they gave me doctor psycho stories (he is really fun to read).

I defended james robinson (!), he at least knew diana was strong enough and had her defeat darkseid and free the gods by herself

i've been reading wonder woman for years. i still have some runs i hadn't had the chance to read fully but basically everything in the past 20 years + perez era formed my love for this character. i hate how out of character she is right now. they should bring back that one rule if you wouldn't do this to batman or superman you shouldn't do it to wonder woman, that's truly disappointing.

[abyssal-ali]

Knock knock/Who’s th-/-Interrupting Bats

Pairing: Daminette

Rating: M

WC: 0.7k

Summary: Damian was kidnapped and the Bats try to find him.

Rewind: Damian wants to spend time with his girlfriend and the Bats have really bad timing

(note the joke in the title; when do Bats ever knock? yes, I think I'm funny)

 “There’s no sign of Demon Brat since he climbed into the car. No activity on his phone. No leads on the car as of now and he appeared willing to go with the unknown.” Jason strode down the steps to the Batcave, reporting what he knew about Damian’s disappearance an hour ago.

 “Found the car! Parked outside Royal West Condos, in the slot for 32J!” Tim shouted triumphantly from the Batcomputer, where he was searching for leads.

 “Security cams show him with a female –no angle to see ID’ing features– in the lobby and elevator. They are physically close. Maybe she had a gun on him? This angle is too uncertain to tell!”

 Dick tried calling Damian’s phone again. Finally, he answered.

 “What is it?” he snapped.

 “Where are you? Are you okay? Can you talk? Why weren’t you answering anyone?” those in range of the speakerphone asked.

 “I am perfectly alright; there is no need to concern yourself with my whereabouts. I am simply a little tied up, so I cannot respond. I will see you all tomorrow.”

 The call disconnected.

 “Check just to be sure he's alright,” ordered Bruce. “He sounded like he was also on speaker.”

 Red Hood, Spoiler, and Nightwing were deployed to check on their very proficient fighter brother.

 The locked door to 32J was easily picked, but a complex security system needed to be disarmed as well. Clearly, 32J was prepared for invasions.

 Cautiously, the trio of Bats checked the condo, finding no one in the main areas. An impressive first-aid kit and cache of weapons confirmed this was no ordinary civilian's home.

 Only the bedroom remained, and Spoiler quietly opened the door.

 Damian was handcuffed by both wrists to the headboard of the bed, shirtless. A dark-haired woman with her back to them stood over him, tightening the cuffs.

 “There, that should keep you for a while. I swear, the things I have to do to get your attention!”

 She bent over and passionately kissed him.

 Red Hood grimaced but levelled his gun at the woman. “Step away from the bed.”

 She spun around, her hands shooting up.

 Behind her, Damian squeezed his eyes shut– a signal?

 His now-freed hand released his other wrist and he rolled, catching the woman and covering her body with his on the ground.

 “Do not engage!” He shouted, noticing Hood now pointing his gun at the ceiling. “Stop!”

 “Are you okay, Baby Bat?” asked Nightwing worriedly.

 Damian sighed heavily and rolled his eyes hard before extending his hand to the woman. “Peachy. You have horrible timing, though I suppose it could’ve been worse. What part of 'I’m fine, don’t worry, see you tomorrow', do you not understand?”

 “We heard ‘I’m tied up right now’, and when we checked, you were. That woman has a stash of weapons to rival yours and a worryingly large first-aid kit. She handcuffed you to the bed and said 'that should keep you for a while'! Are you drugged?”

 “Do you ever get all the facts before engaging?” asked Damian, exasperated. “It took me less than a minute to get out of both handcuffs, and she knew it. This is my girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, whom I have not been able to pay proper attention to for three weeks because of the Dicelli case and all of your hoverings! And if you’re wondering why you did not know about Marinette sooner– just look at yourselves right now.”

 “Uh…so you weren’t kidnapped or drugged or blackmailed?” Hood was      definitely grinning behind his helmet, and Spoiler's shoulders shook suspiciously.

 “No! Oh kwami, this is so embarrassing. Do not breathe a word of any of this to anyone or I will turn you all into a pile of ash, I swear. Just– just go.” He waved at the door tiredly. “The kit and weapons are mostly mine. The security is so my girlfriend is safe and…goodbye.” He pushed them out of the room and shut the door in their faces, trusting their minuscule detective skills to show them back to the door.

 Damian leaned against it, covered his face in his hands, and groaned loudly.

 Marinette came up behind him, hugging him sympathetically. “At least they didn’t come in any later    .”

 He groaned louder. “I am never going to live this down.”

A/N: on ao3 I have gotten a couple requests/suggestions to write a sequel with damian and mari getting their revenge on their siblings, so keep an eye out;)

[jrosa82fanfics]

Part 10 of Discovering Safety

CHAPTER THREE

Dick Grayson has been going crazy for about a year now. This new threat to Jason’s safety though, is pushing him to consider doing something he feels he shouldn’t.

It began with a rut. He had returned to the Manor at 21 and had been living there for two years by this point. He had gotten reacquainted with his childhood bedroom and been in the middle of his rut when it happened.

For the three years he had lived in Bludhaven he had lived alone in an apartment he rented with money from whatever job he was working. As such he could bring home anyone he wanted and enjoy his rut with them.

He’d had a few girlfriends and boyfriends but never anything serious. He could usually count on someone being there to help him with a rut though, which made his return to the manor a bit rocky. 

Bruce had a strict rule against bringing strangers over, that he had established when a 16 year old Dick had brought his girlfriend over while she was in heat. Bruce had been livid and only seemed to calm when, after three month, she hadn’t turned up pregnant at their door. It had been one of those moments that made Dick crave independence from the other alpha who he felt was too controlling of his life.

Regardless of who was right back then, the rule had not changed and so Dick was forced to either stay with someone for his rut which he hated doing, or have one alone. By the second year of being back home Dick had gotten used to the idea of not bringing people over and rarely dated anymore.

He blamed what happened on that, on his lack of bed partners. He refuses to accept that while he got himself off he had been thinking of a certain omega, regardless of who’s name he had called out.

He ignores the fact that in the year since, he had woken from erotic dreams of knotting a certain blue eyed omega. He ignores the way his dreams and fantasies smelled of warm cinnamon and crisp apples.

In the end, the threat has made him acknowledge the truth. It’s hard to explain away the fact that he deliberately let Jason have free reign of his room, or that he hadn’t needed to cuddle the other man to him last night while shirtless. He had done so anyway, desperate to have Jason’s hungry eyes on him again, the sweet scent of his arousal tingeing the air as he lost control of his scent like he had when Dick had forgotten to dress after his shower.

As he makes his way downstairs he can’t help but berate himself for his feelings. He has just gotten Jason to trust him and now he wants to jeopardize that over a few lust-filled thoughts.

As he meets Jason halfway to the den he decides to throw his worries aside and focus on what really matters, taking care of his omega. They soon arrive at the den, but in the meantime Dick looks his fill of the omega. Jason's soft black locks look silky and soft, his face a little red from crying but his pretty blue eyes no longer have tears in them and it makes Dick happy. 

He had worried earlier when the omega had cried as he isn’t prone to tears, but he seems to have bounced back and will hopefully find comfort with him and the others of their pack. They join the others in a pillow fort that they have made, as Tim puts a movie on and Damian makes Jason lay down beside him to receive hugs.

Bruce passes the omega a mug of camomile tea to drink while Tim cuddles up on his other side. Dick isn’t sure where he’s going to go until Jason motions for him to lay down in his place.

He does so and soon has the other laying atop him with the younger boys flanking them on either side. Bruce seems content to lay on Damian’s other side while they watch the film. They are two hours into their movie marathon when Dick feels Jason finally slip into sleep. He smiles, content to hold his omega while he rests.

[rainbowxocs]

Ooooh, bro, can I share my funny pride parade story?

My first pride parade was shortly after I got top surgery, and I got really drunk and tried to impress this hot shirtless guy I met by showing him that I knew how to do a backflip. And not only did I fuck up the backflip (because I was drunk) and bash my head on the floor on accident, but I like seriously reopened my stitches from surgery lmao

-Damian

Ouch-

I reopened my stitches from my top surgery by sneezing too hard…

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Concept: Damian has a TikTok account but only uses it for videos of his pets. Tim has both a TikTok account and a YouTube channel where he posts workout videos, and Cass will sometimes steal his phone to do her own workout videos on his accounts, to the point that his followers think she's just a part of his channel. Duke has a Youtube channel that just captures the absurdity of his family, and no matter how clickbait-y the title, it's almost always an understatement.

Duke’s would be so popular oh my word. Everyone who sees one of his videos for the first time would be like “nah, that can’t be real” and then it is. And it’s somehow worse.

Steph’s tiktok would be all over the place. There is no one type of video. Also no one can figure out if she’s actually Bruce Wayne’s kid or not. I mean, she’s constantly saying she’s not, but what if she is?

Jason? Cooking and booktok. Mostly. Except then he posts one random and slightly shaky video of him and Dick doing crazy acrobatic stunts (shirtless) and it goes insanely viral. He immediately goes back to the cooking and books and does not acknowledge any of the aftermath of that video whatsoever.

Dick? Look at jiembasands on tiktok and that’s exactly what Dick’s would be.

Bruce has a tiktok. His kids made him get it. He occasionally makes videos talking about incredibly random things. It’s also sometimes hard to tell if he’s being serious or not. He’ll also tell stories. Tiktok enjoys the little feud he and Oliver Queen get into on tiktok. They begin telling increasingly embarrassing stories about each other but then they start teaming up against lex luthor and once that starts they both get like two million followers in a week.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heeey! Can I request for the Father of Mine universe? Something along the lines of hickeys, maybe smeared lipstick all over their faces at an event, family dinner or something like that?

“Just skip it and stay here with me,” Jason offered as he leaned against the bathroom frame, shirtless and with his arms crossed.

He had been watching Y/N get ready for at least 15 minutes.

She was currently putting on blood red lipstick that went perfectly with her black winged eyeliner.

Jason wasn’t a big lipstick guy – mostly because it prevented him from kissing his girlfriend the way he wanted to. But he couldn’t deny that it looked incredibly sexy.

“I can’t. I promised Bruce,” Y/N explained as she looked at him through the mirror.

“There will always be other charity events,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.

But he’d had enough of keeping his distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He started peppering kisses on her shoulders since her dress was leaving the skin completely exposed and he just couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” she began, “you could always come with me.”

Jason stopped his kissing.

“Guess that’s a no?” Y/N sighed with a shy grin.

But she didn’t really care.

Y/N understood that Jason hated these events. To be honest, she might hate them just as much. But Bruce kept asking her and she tried to go when she could. Sometimes she needed breaks and her father understood that.

Jason ignored her question and his hands started roaming heatedly across her body.

“Don’t even think about it,” Y/N warned, immediately pushing him away.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jason laughed innocently.

“Not yet,” she spun around and pointed at him. “But you were going to!”

“And is that so bad?” He asked with a crooked smirk.

“It is when I’m running late. And the reason I’m late is because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me an hour ago.”

Jason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t exactly hear any complaints…”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from laughing and shook her head.

No, there had definitely been absolutely no complaints from her.

“I won’t be there long,” Y/N promised.

Then she brushed past him and walked into the giant walk-in closet.

Barely even glancing at all the shoes, she grabbed a pair that matched her dress.

“Can we order pizza or something when I get back? I’ll be starving.” Y/N asked mindlessly as she slipped the shoes on, using the wall to balance herself.

Jason didn’t even realize he was staring.

But how could he not?

The dress was simple. Just a little black dress. It was a charity event after all. But it fit Y/N like a glove, hugging her in all the right places.

Her heels were at least 4 inches, putting her eye level with Jason – if not a tiny bit taller. She would be above the majority of men at the event, except for probably a small handful.

“What?” Y/N asked self consciously. “Too tall?”

“No such fucking thing,” Jason quickly answered.

Y/N usually wasn’t self conscious about her height. She kind of had to get over that back in high school when she was taller than most of the boys in her grade.

But that didn’t mean she completely stopped having slip-ups. Slip-ups that involved questioning her heels or outfit.

Thankfully, Jason was quick to remedy such situations.

“You just look so beautiful,” Jason added as he stepped forward and grabbed her hips possessively.

Y/N kissed him. “Thank you.”

But she opened her mouth to give another warning.

“You’re gonna be late,” Jason spoke for her. “I know. I know.”

Y/N tried not to laugh at her boyfriends desperation as she grabbed her clutch.

“Remember: pizza!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

————

Bruce and Damian were waiting for Y/N at the venue.

Dick and Tim skipped, going to these things less and less as they became fully grown men with lives of their own.

“Thank you for coming,” Bruce greeted as he kissed her on the cheek.

Y/N was about to turn her attention to Damian and give him a hug.

“What the hell is on your neck!?” The boy cried out before she could.

She blinked in surprise, completely unaware of what her half brother was talking about. Self-consciously, her hand went to the sides of her neck, not sure what she should be hiding.

“Can Todd not keep his hands to himself for 30 seconds?” Damian growled.

That’s when it clicked.

Y/N had a hickey on her neck.

“Damian, lower your voice,” Bruce warned his son.

Meanwhile, Y/N started feeling hot from embarrassment.

“Father, make him stop,” Damian whined.

To her surprise, Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Damian, Y/N is a grown woman in a relationship. She can do as she pleases.”

It was the right answer, but Y/N was still sweating from the embarrassment.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she quickly mumbled, before disappearing to the nearest bathroom.

But Y/N swore she heard Bruce continuing to scold Damian for his rudeness and for embarrassing her.

When she reached the bathroom, she lifted her head to see that she very much did have a hickey on her neck. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of her jaw, which was why she hadn’t noticed it while getting ready. If she had, she would’ve put 5 layers of makeup on it to make sure her family didn’t notice.

Thankfully, she brought some cover up with her and quickly started going to work.

After 10 minutes, it was invisible and Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

She pulled out her cellphone, glaring at it as if were her boyfriend.

“You better start behaving. Damian and Bruce just found a hickey on my neck. I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Y/N texted to Jason.

“Who cares?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he’d answer with that.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’d prefer not remind my father and younger brother that I do in fact have a sex life.”

“A healthy, satisfied, and passionate sex life *,” Jason corrected.

Before she could respond, he texted again with, “Did you cover it up?”

“Obviously.”

“What a shame. Maybe it would’ve kept the spoiled rich boys away from you.”

“You’re on thin ice, Jason Todd.”

“Ooo. I love it when you use the full name. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

Y/N sighed and tossed her phone back into her clutch.

She’d given up on making Jason feel any bit of sympathy. That man would never feel guilty about showing the world how obsessed he was with her.

—————

Jason was reading on the couch when Y/N returned home.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted before returning to reading his book.

“Ugh. I drank too much champagne. I have the worst headache.”

“I’ll order some pizza,” Jason offered and pulled out his phone.

Y/N sighed in relief when she took off her heels and then she collapsed on the couch, laying her head on Jason’s lap as he placed their order.

Without thinking, his free hand when to her head and started massaging it, hoping it would help with her migraine.

“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed. “That feels better.”

“Order has been placed,” he confirmed.

“Thank you.”

“Arrives in 30 minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, knowing exactly where he was going with it.

“What could we possibly do with 30 minutes?” Jason teased as he inched closer to her face.

She opened her eyes and giggled up at him.

“Ya know, I heard that sex helps cure migraines…”

“Does not!” Y/N yelled out.

Before she could argue with him further, his lips shut her up real quick.

For as large as Jason was, he managed to maneuver his body very gracefully, until he was hovering above Y/N while she lay comfortably on the couch.

“You look beautiful with lipstick,” Jason said it as if it was law. “But I like it even more when I ruin it,” he added with an almost evil smirk.

It was hard for Y/N to have a clever quip when he said things like that to her.

“How about I mark you up even more?” He threatened.

“Jason…” she warned.

But they both knew Y/N was pretending to be annoyed by it – or against it. When in reality, she kind of loved how obsessed Jason was with the idea.

Just when Jason hiked Y/N's dress up and was tracing her legs, someone cleared their throat.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and actually growled. Then he quickly lowered Y/N’s dress and tried to make her modest again.

Y/N covered her face and groaned. “Please, please, please tell me Bruce is not standing at the window right now.”

Jason smirked. “And Damian.”

Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her and sat up to face them.

There stood Batman and Robin.

Tonight was just not her night.

“You have lipstick smeared all over you,” Damian pointed out to Jason smugly.

“I’d say one day you’d see the appeal, but I’m struggling to imagine anyone ever having that kind of interest in you,” Jason shot back.

“Jason!” Y/N scolded in a yell.

Then she quickly turned to Damian with a sympathetic look, “Dami, he didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason corrected. “What do you guys want?”

“Red Robin is missing,” Bruce stated darkly.

“So…go find him,” Jason replied.

“We need your help,” Bruce clarified.

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. But we’re setting some fucking ground rules from now on. I’m sick of you guys invading our personal space. We have a door for a reason. Use it.”

Bruce just nodded.

Then he looked down at Damian and with a glare, got him to nod, too.

“I gotta change,” Jason told them, annoyance clear in his voice.

Y/N followed him into their bedroom, to give them a moment of privacy.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Y/N sighed as she sat on the edge of their bed.

“They spent all night with you and now they have the balls to interrupt?” Jason shot back. “And I want my damn pizza.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I promise I’ll save you some.”

Jason was in his full gear now, Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm.

He took in a deep breath, tension easing off of him as he saw how cute she was looking up from the bed at him. Her lipstick was half off her lips, but she still looked beautiful.

“Promise you’ll be careful,” her tone was nothing but serious.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jason dismissed as he leaned down at kissed her.

"And be nice to Damian."

"Never."

Jason went back to the living room where Bruce and Damian waited.

“You might want to rub some of that off,” Bruce mumbled as he turned and jumped on the window.

Jason glared at Batman’s back as he reluctantly rubbed Y/N’s lipstick off his mouth with his gloved hand.

Then he looked at Damian. “Say another word about it and I'll skin you alive.”

Damian gave him a dirty look, “I’m not scared of you.”

–––––––––

Let me know if you liked it!!!

[scorpionyx9621]

The Bat Family as things I have done IRL that just radiate Chaos:

Dick: Sign up for OT immediately after a red-eye flight to the east coast because my boss asked me really nicely and I've only learned how to say no after this happened. Proceed to pass out during my actual night shift. Still didn't get in trouble for sleeping on the job.

Jason: Take my government stimulus money, move out to the west coast from Washington D.C. do the drive all by myself and have the time of my life. Immediately gets homesick the morning I woke up in Seattle and dropped $700 on plane tickets back home. Proceeds to have one of the worst holidays of my life and have my flight get delayed 7 hours flying back to Seattle. Regrets ever spending the $700.

Duke: Starts writing fanfiction as a gift for a friend for dragging me down into Batfam Hell. Turns out to actually be okay at it and makes it a genuine hobby. Gets writers anxiety regardless but still writes and genuinely enjoys it and wishes they could do more.

Cassandra: Take Chinese for a semester because it's 6 credits and I needed 6 language credits to graduate. Get a 25/100 on the first test. Turn out to be absolutely abysmal at learning new languages but busts my ass and cry every night because Chinese is really freaking hard to learn. End up passing the class with an A-.

Barbara: Working at the front desk of a building I was an RA of at 6am. Watch as one of my residents who's rushing the biggest most infamous fraternity on campus walk back in shirtless covered head to toe in honey and maple syrup. Take one look at him as he tries to explain but I just tell him to take a shower and go to bed. Said resident proceeds to do that and thanks me for not asking questions.

Bruce: Stay up until 4 AM at least 4 times a week plotting on ways to take down my floor buddy as an RA who had been stalking and harassing me only to find out he got himself fired for SH'ing residents. Also getting my then best friend who also was an RA the next year randomly assigned to said asshole former co-worker when they tried interviewing for the same position (like an idiot) and said former friend blows the whistle on him and his behavior. Literally bringing in upwards of 8 RA's all in agrence to do whatever it takes to make sure this guy never gets hired in our department again.

Tim: Pull an all-nighter to finish an East Asian Politics Paper, give a presentation on radar remote sensing, take an exam on advanced statistics, do a full-overnight work shift and do a desk shift the next morning and the following day go to an international student party, black-out, come to in my dorm room and proceed to get violent food poisoning/my liver temporarily gave up on me after not sleeping for 55 hours then going to a college party.

Stephanie: Make it a daily goal of my 9-5 office job full of disgusting and toxic east-coast work culture to make my direct supervisor flip me the bird at least once a day. Proceed to go on a 10 month streak of actually succeeding in saying/doing something so cheesy/corny but still not within the realms of getting me in trouble enough so he just flips me off. At least once a shift.

Alfred: Adopt 4 freshmen all rushing the most notorious fraternity on campus and basically just act as their disappointed father from a distance. Teaching them valuable life lessons like yes, you should wash your sheets at bare minimum every two-four weeks. Feeding them spare cookies from the dining hall, giving them my extra laundry swipes, etc, Knowing full well I can do nothing to stop them from their debauchery. All I can do is attempt to assure they don't kill themselves.

Damian: In an act of absolute senioritis. Proceed to skip a bonus assignment for a final that would have taken me from a B+ to an A all because my former best friend had found a cat roaming around the student apartments and we proceed to spend the night trying to trap the cat. We succeeded and now said cat is in the loving home with my friend even though we no longer are friends.