#that's what they get for being dicks as kids

[madamechrissy]

Stripclub Owner Sukuna

Stripclub owner Sukuna x Fem! Stripper reader- headcanons

This will be a full oneshot or mini seriess, if you wanna get tagged in this drop a comment. <3 MDNI- warnings- OBSESSED Sukuna, oral sex (both receiving) fingering, spitting, cum swallowing (both of em lol) he's almost a little Yandere tbh lol, explicit sex, mentions of drugs, Sukuna being whipped lol

Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'

Soooo this is kinda a tease of what's to come for this lil storyyy (lmk if you're interested in the full version!) <3

permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @n1vi @aldebrana @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy - also taggingggg- @naammiii @msniks @1worm1 <3

[aangelinakii]

BATBOYS + SITTING ON THEIR BACK DURING PUSH-UPS.

note : personally i would love someone to push up w me on their back ,,, and also no damian just becquse i couldn't rhink of a scenario soz aloz

BRUCE WAYNE.

the kids had forced offered bruce a night off, after performing his nightly duties too many months in a row. now, sitting in bed with a book, you found it difficult to concentrate on the printed words as your partner lingered on the floor by his side of the bed, his quick breaths huffing through your shared bedroom. what on earth could he be doing? flipping the corner of your page down to save your place, you folded the book shut and put it down, rolling over the bed to peer over the side... only to find your wonderous bruce wayne... doing push ups?

"what are you doing?" you'd chuckled with a soft shake of your head.

muscles rippling beneath the flesh of his back, bruce brought his body down, and then pushed himself back up again, his triceps straining against skin. with a grunt he glanced back at you, never ceasing movement. "i need to get energy out before i go to bed. mind you, i'm not usually relaxing by this time."

another laugh brushed past your lips. "then that's not tiring you out." but bruce only sent you another glance, more sheepish this time; you couldn't blame him, not being accustomed to how one normally retires for the evening.

before he could reply again, you were slinging a leg over the side of the mattress and landing on the plush carpeting. bruce's exercise ceased in curiosity, his head turning to run his gaze over your legs. "oh, no, don't stop on my behalf," you grinned, carefully tucking one of your shins along his back and lowing the rest of your weight onto him.

but bruce wayne didn't falter a bit.

instead, he took it in his stride, tucking his arms and moving down, and then pushing up even faster than he'd been doing before. but he couldn't hide the crescent of his eyes and lines at the corners of his mouth as they turned up — he could do this all night.

DICK GRAYSON.

bullets of sweat shot to the floor with each punch, his flesh grunting against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. it never had the chance to swing too far, for he was already hitting it from the other side. although you weren't going as hard at it as your boyfriend, your own limbs were straining from exercise.

with a loud exhale, dick stepped away from the swinging sand bag, holding out a shaking hand to steady it. before it could stop, he was already moving to one of the ready-laid mats.

without a second too long of a break, he was down on his palms, moving up and down, his triceps tensing and bulging in his flesh. the way he kept glancing at you every few moments was making it very difficult to focus on your own workout.

ceasing your movements, you looked over at him with crossed arms. "anything i can help you with?" it was half a joke, expecting him to just grunt a chuckle and shake his head, getting caught red-handed checking you out. instead, he allowed a few seconds' silence, and then hummed.

"yes, actually." his voice was strained against his action, but he'd be damned if he stopped now just to speak. "come here, will you?"

it's not like you're busy or anything. but who were you to deny one dashingly handsome dick grayson your time and energy; especially when that's what you were dating him for.

unable to bite back a smile, you made your way over. "okay... what now?"

"sit on my back."

despite the tension in his throat as he spoke, dick didn't pause his push-ups — and you were supposed to sit on him like this? right...

however strange it may have been to try sit down on a moving man's back, the sheer fact dick could push-up your body weight made it worth it (no matter how many times you fell off before finally sticking it).

JASON TODD.

relaxing days — no work, no appointments, nothing to do — had to be the best days. especially here, as you and jason lay belly-down on the floor, using your glorious free time to complete a puzzle book you'd found at the grocery store the other day.

well... jason was belly-down on the floor; you were belly-down on his back, peering over his shoulder and pointing at the page, giving your contributions.

it got to the point where you were both on the last page, pen marks etched into the paper from where you'd scribbled answers and numbers and words, but you were stumped. with a huff, jason flicked the pen from his fingers, landing with a thump a metre away. "how are they gonna make puzzles you can't even solve? stupid..."

"hey, hey," you chuckled, bringing your fingers to scratch lovingly at his jaw. "i can get us a new one. want to go now?" as the words left your mouth, you moved one leg from where it lay entwined with his, preparing to get ready for an outing.

but jason was too quick, and too stubborn. before you could react, he'd pulled one arm from beneath him and lightly pressed down on your back, keeping you in place. "no, i'm joking," he mumbled. "please, let's just stay."

anything for him.

and so you fell limp against him once more, arms folding beneath your chin so you could rest your head, eyes fluttering closed. silence ran through the apartment, aside from the soft workings of jason's breathing beneath your ear; outside the city buzzed, but, by now, it was more background noise. perhaps a little nap wouldn't hurt—

something was moving beneath you, and your eyes shot open in alarm, arms shooting out from beneath you and clinging to the nearest thing – which happened to be around jason's waist. although you weren't moving, the coffee table beside you was bobbing up and down, and you couldn't possiblt fathom what was happning, until you realised...

"don't want to miss a workout," jason grunted from below, as if reading your mind. no lazy day was truly lazy when you had a jason peter todd to mind.

TIM DRAKE.

"i bet i could do that," tim spoke from the other end of the couch, where his socked feet were prodding your legs, probably in a surreptitious attempt to get them massaged. "no sweat."

you glanced between the tv and him, your lovely boyfriend tim, who would come up in the dictionary if you searched for the word overzealous. on the screen, playing the scene of a bizarre film you'd flipped to, the main love interest was working out when the main character stumbled into the room; there was some fleeting dialogue, and then, before you could find an explanation for it, she was sitting on his back as he continued his workout.

"what, you—" now when you looked over at tim, he had that wide grin on his face, and you knew you were in for something. "you want to try it now?"

without much of an answer, tim was rising to his feet, adjusting the waistband of the linen pyjama pants he wore, and fell to his hands and knees. "i mean, if you insist," he scoffed playfully. "try not to fall in love with me even more."

something about this didn't feel right... tim was certainly muscular, certainly strong — you'd seen him in action — but you didn't have much trust in him this time. regardless of your worries, you shimmied from your seat on the couch and carefully arranged yourself, legs crossed, on tim's back.

he only shook a bit at first, his legs now outstretched behind him, arms firm as logs. but he wasn't moving, just frozen in the plank position.

peering over his shoulder at him, you asked, "what's with the hold-up?"

pink in the cheeks, jaw clenched, tim's voice barely came out through his teeth. "yeah, just... wait—"

carefully – and very slowly – tim lowered himself, and in addition you, down, until his toned chest was millimetres away from the floor, and then, just as slowly, he pushed back against the ground.

once he was back in his starting position, he shifted beneath you, almost toppling you overboard. "okay, okay, i'm done!" he gasped. "my abs are gonna kill me!"

DUKE THOMAS.

being sick for the past week, you'd found it difficult to encourage yourself out of the house to go visit the gym — so, instead, you'd resorted to working out at home.

duke returned home the moment the sun began to dip below darkening clouds, his warmth radiating through the house as he closed the door behind him. he called something into the living room, but it went unheard beneath the instructions playing on the telly.

"oh, you working out?" he hummed as he entered, raking his eyes over your form and the synchronised movements on the tv screen.

mid-movement, you grunted a yeah, and duke edged around you to sit on the couch.

finally, when your break came, you collapsed to your mat and turned to him, grabbing your water bottle on the coffee table. "how was patrol?" you breathed.

the corners of duke's mouth turned up in a grin, clearly bemused by the sheen of sweat along your brow. "yeah, great." his eyes glanced over to the screen — two more minutes of your break, and it looked like you'd be attempting a five-minute plank. "mind if i work in with you?"

you glanced back, sipping at your water, and gave a half-chuckle. "i would've thought you'd be too tired for more exercise."

duke's bottom lip jutted out with a casual shrug. "i've missed you, we can do it together."

unfortunately, you couldn't ignore that little smile, that charm he held like a secret. and so you put your water bottle back on the table and duke joined you, beside your mat.

when the timer was up, you braced yourself for your plank, but duke, also on his knees, caught your attention — some stupid smile lingered on his lips, like he had a cheeky plan. "i don't know if a plank will be difficult enough for me."

"well done," you scoffed playfully. "just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean it's easy for me."

he held out a hand to diffuse any wrong ideas. "no, i just meant i think i know a way to break a sweat."

at this, you eyed him suspiciously, albeit curiously. before you could question him any further, he was on his palms and tip of his toes, gesturing you to sit on his back.

after a few "are you crazy?"s, you found yourself sitting on his back, trying not to touch him too much with your overly-warm limbs, lowering and raising with ease, your youtube workout by now forgotten.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

OK topical swerve but: punk is inherently about being countercultural, which is why Soviet punks were/post-Soviet punks are a bit obsessed with fascist imagery, and also why so many punks you might politically agree with are ginormous dicks personally.

I think this is an important point to introduce into discussions of the future of a hypothetical solarpunk society — when the fighting is done (and it is fighting), when the raw glory of it fades, how is a new society going to deal with the future it builds? How is it going to be sustainable? When this isn't countercultural anymore but you've built a mainstream society that still values nonconformism for its own sake, where is that going to lead?

I think some of the most important work that can be done is the type of community building that looks forward to the point where life is liveable, and then beyond it, to the next generation. This is a point that people in activist circles often forget about because, for completely understandable reasons, most people with the time to do ecofuturist activism are childless or child free — but any society is going to contain children, you know? It has to.

Is it a sustainable world we're building if we aren't, now, thinking about being able to sustain it, in terms of cultural infrastructure for its maintenance and for the raising of healthy children? In terms of the values we want to instill? All of this is to say that it's natural for sustainable healthy communitybuilding in defiance of the state to be labeled as punk /now/, but think again about what happened to the counterculture in the Soviet Union.

That's not why it collapsed, but it devoted endless needless time to beating on its youth for wanting American jeans and shit, for wanting connection with the world, and, like, what are we doing about our equivalent of our kids wanting jeans? Not that, not like, fucking statist repression, but it often seems to me like people in these circles either are still teens, finger on the pulse of how to talk to teens because they're not in an unavoidable hierarchic position of authority over people afraid of authority yet, or have never met a teenager, ever.

I want to interject to say that mythbuilding and identity construction is integral to any society, and I worry sometimes that strongly identifying living a healthy, sustainable, governmentally unexploited life with punk, with the counterculture, might lead into a repeat of history. And then — your society crumbles, because your kids that the state knows how to get to over the internet are young and dumb and buy into ideologies that subvert you out of spite, because you encouraged them to believe that they have a right to do this.

This is why hippie communes usually last a couple generations at most. The government is not as dumb as people think, and this is why most serious activists in this vein focus on making existing, recognised communities better — but even there, there are limits to the usefulness of anger. Don't plant trees and cook meals for the homeless and elderly and agitate for rail because you hate the state — you'll run out of steam.

Do it because you love your city and you'll fight until your neighbours, in all their smallminded conservatism and traumatic relation with civics and sexism and racism and old pain, have clean water and clean air and clean food.

It takes a particular kind of person to be punk to begin with, and you actually very much don't want to cultivate this type of person in a new society, or even in an activist movement to improve an old one. When things get bad enough, and there is always a bad enough for every kind of such individual, this type of person trashes everything around them because fuck you (the new authority) and then does absolutely nothing to help. They came to the commune or the movement to make coffee with Sock and Moss and to grieve their grievances, ultimately, and to feel part of something. Eventually they either get bitter and useless or run out.

No one asked, but this is why personally I don't identify myself as solar or any punk. Punk identity is transitory and fundamentally relies on there being an enemy to rebel against. I'm not pretentious enough to call myself an activist and I don't count as white enough in the US to be taken seriously as such, but in order to be something approximating an activist, you have to think about what happens after.

We fight now, but the most a warrior generation can ultimately do for the health of the community is eventually to beat their swords mostly to ploughshares. How are we going to make sure the kids maintain what we've built, without threat of harm or coercion? What do we do for the children? Eventually angry defiance has to cool down to calm, assured disobedience that knows what it's doing, or else the movement attracts a critical mass of angry, defiant, compromising people, who can't be trusted and won't be directed and don't even know what they're fighting for. Anger makes you dumb, and we can't afford to be dumb about this now that the forces we're looking at know how to break down societies like we hope to have.

We have to work with the human nature we have, and again, I think that means minimizing adversarial framing. With adversarial framing you have sides instead of communities, and if you have sides...

All of this is to say, we have got to cultivate a hopeful, resilient, disobedient activism grounded in a mature, communitarian civics, where there are no wrong kinds of people, but there is a right civic ethic.

They're very good at this in Detroit, despite everything. I used to volunteer with a guerrilla gardening initiative run by the people who taught me this.

I keep seeing people asking ‘is solarpunk really punk?’ because it’s too happy and optimistic and stuff

and I’m picturing a perfect moment in a solarpunk community — the neighbourhood mayor standing with a shit-eating grin on her face when the cops come and cut them off from city power, and nothing turns off

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"I bet on losing dogs"

ok this is like my first time actually writing anything EVER, and I don't know how to work tumblr or make this aesthetic so bare with me pls!! I keep seeing yandere batfam x neglected reader and I have had so many ideas so I'm giving this a shot! The reader is referred to with female pronouns but you can imagine it different if you want :) Reader is 2 years older than Damian and is 15 at the start of the story. Damian is 13. Dick is around 10 years older than reader, making him 25 right now. Jason is 8 years older than reader, making him 23. Tim is 2 years older than reader making him 17. Cass is 4 years older than reader and is 19. Stephanie is 3 years older than reader and is 18. Barbra is around 8 years older, making her 23! Bruce is around 35-40ish??? All just kinda guesses to make the plot and dynamics more clear, lmk if you have any questions!!

This is the prolouge and it kinda sucks so pls be nice. Hearts and comments are appreciated. If it's bad ignore it, english isn't my first language.

You couldn't understand it. You aren't a bad kid, so why were you treated like one? Why did your father treat you like the bane of his existence? Why did your older brothers see you as nothing more than dirt at the bottom of their shoes, a ghost in the manor, a blemish on their picture perfect family of misfits. You tried so so hard to fit in, to be part of the family. You wasted 11 YEARS of your life trying to get noticed, doing activities and hobbies you hated in the hopes of striking conversation with your "siblings". Batman, Bruce Wayne, your "father", ignored you no matter what. He ignored you like it was his job, from the day you came to the manor on your fourth birthday, your mother's death day, to today, your 15th birthday. You saved his life, his and all those other ungrateful losers who you used to call family. Yesterday, you put you life on the line for them, got bitten by that damn snake for them, and they ignored you and told you to walk it off while coddling the girl who suddenly appeared. Never again would you help them, nor would you brush off their mistreatment, not after this betrayal. Not after they took in another girl, a girl your age, the girl who took credit for your heroic act, the girl who bullied you for years at Gotham Prep, the girl who made your life living hell, and called HER family. They choose Tiffany Maverick to be their supposed savior, they would never believe you had the bravery to help them. They chose her to be Tiffany Wayne and scorned you.

You did nothing wrong, from the day you came to the manor you were perfect. Straight A's, no attitude, no complaints and no demands. All you did was try, try, try, and they never noticed.

Richard "The Dick" Grayson, as you and your friends call him, was the world's best big brother to everyone, except you of course! He was your first brother, he was the kid that Bruce Wayne actually wanted to take under his wing. You were 5 and he was 15, he was busy being Robin and then Nightwing. Alfred assured you that Dick adored you, you were his baby sister after all, he was just busy! In later years you realized he was only busy when it came to you. He made time for Damian no matter what, always attended Cassandra's ballet recitals, chatted with Tim and ruffled his hair, and he even dealt with Jason's snarky attitude and biting remarks. Yet, somehow when it came to you, he never had time. Always brushing you off with a shoulder pat and a "Maybe next time sweetheart!" and rolling his eyes when he thought you weren't looking. He's been making time for Tiffany or Tiffybear, as he loves to call her while pinching her cheeks and calling her his favorite little sister, "Don't tell Cass though!" he'll whisper to her. You don't even think he can remember your name. Or that once upon a time you were his "baby bird."

It makes you sick watching her take credit for everything, she's only been in the manor for 6 months and they've all given her more love than they have to you in the past 11 years. She took credit for all your awards, she told everyone she was top of your class, made them "homemade" cakes and muffins. It was all you. She stole everything.

Jason Todd, the red hood, was so mean to you. You used to admire him, looked up to him, and he took all your kind words and gestures for granted and spit them back in your face. Once upon a time, he was your favorite brother, you wanted to be as confident and unshakeable as him, it didn't matter how mean he was now because he was you brother and you loved him. The bond you had before his death was something you couldn't let go of, he was the only one who loved you. When he first came to the manor he was 12 and you came a couple months later. An adorable 4 year old who followed her favorite brother like a duckling. You were 7 when he died. You were 12 when he came back to haunt Bruce and Dick and Tim. You chased after him and tried to resurrect the bond you had for 3 long years. You gave up when you saw them. You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw him and Tiffany sneaking out the manor on a school night, you almost threw up when you saw him strap her on his motorcycle and leave for hours. They came back with shit-eating grins and cupcakes for everyone from a 24hr bakery, everyone except you. The bakery you asked him to take you to months ago. Tiffany saw the tears in your eyes and your clenched fists and she laughed.

Timothy Drake-Wayne, you first saw him after Jason died. Tim, in your 10 year old mind, was trying to steal your dad. Bruce ignored you even more after Jason's death and shut everyone out. Your bond with Tim was non-existent no matter how hard you tried. After you realized he wasn't trying to replace Jason, and saw how he was helping your father heal in ways you couldn't, you tried to bond with him. You attempted to play his video games and ignored his complete disintrest in you and anything that had to do with you in hopes he might come to appreciate you. You brought him coffee after long patrols, asked him about his day, asked to meet his friends, you picked up all his hobbies like hacking, cooking, reading even martial arts and yet he ignored you. You tried to find him in hallways at school, only to be treated like a stranger when you found him. He was embarrassed that you were his sister. You were chubby and awkward and didn't have many friends, he didn't want his cool kid friends to know you were his sister. For 5 long years you chased after him, for 5 years you chased a ghost, and somehow Tiffany captured his attention using one of the gadget-thingys you made in hopes to impress him. She walks the hallways of Gotham Prep with him, a perfect sibling duo, he even had her lunch moved so she could sit with him and his friends. He wasn't embarrassed of her. You watched them get closer in 6 months than you have in 5 years. And it hurt.

But perhaps what hurt most is her newfound bond with Damian. Your baby brother. You tried the hardest with Damian, almost as hard as you tried with Bruce, and yet he chose her while all you got was a sword to your neck and sneers of disgust thrown your way. Damian moved in when you were 12. You were elated, if you couldn't have good older siblings, at least you could be one! That plan went to hell when you realized Damian saw you as less than him. No matter how hard you tried, returned your love with disgust. You tried to show him around school like you wished Tim did for you and he called you " A waste of space and Wayne DNA" and said that there was no way you were of "Wayne" blood and that your "whore of a mother" had to have deceived his father, in front of your two friends and half the school. You could've handled his cruel words if he didn't begin attempting to duel you to become your father's heir. About a year ago, when you tried to hug him he threw you down the stairs and you broke your ankle, you stopped trying with him after that. He was so possessive over Bruce and now that somehow transferred to Tiffany too. You'd feel bad for her if she wasn't eating his obsession with her up.

Barbra, Cassandra, and Stephanie were the "It girls." All practically sisters, they hung out almost everyday and had sleepovers every Friday. They giggled about boys, hook-ups, missions and bonded over everything. You wanted be one of them, you tried so hard to be cool, to be pretty, and they could only see your flaws. You curled your hair and did your nails in hope you would blend with them, you even attempted to be Batgirl at one point. You were quickly denied after Stephanie pointed out that you didn't have the right 'physique' for it. Barbra quickly agreed and said you weren't cut out for it, Cassandra simply looked you up and down. Thats why it hurt extra when they welcomed Tiffany with open arms. Suddenly, she could be Batgirl. She talked to them about boys and bonded with them over girl things. She stole your sisters.

You figured out Tiffany was a spy almost as soon as she came into the manor. Her apperance and ability to act like it was her who saved the Bats from the Joker and his new radioactive snake was not a coincidence, neither was her becoming a vigilante only two weeks after coming into the manor, and neither was you catching her walking out the Batcave with arms full of Batman's weapons and plans. You couldn't believe your luck and pulled out your phone to take a picture, too bad you left the flash on. Tiffany quickly noticed you and tried to explain that it was a misunderstanding when Bruce came into the hallway. You beamed at the sight of him and began to explain what you saw Tiffany doing, only Tiffany was faster. She was quick to blame you for everything, and Batman, the world's greatest detective believed her. She said that you bullied her at school and you were so jealous of her joining the family that you went to steal plans and took pictures to frame her. It was a shitty lie and somehow everyone believed it. You still remember the cold indifference on Bruce's face, the sadness on Alfred's, the look of pure delight on Damian's, the shock on Dick's, the interest on Tim's and the disappointment and disgust on Jason's. Something shifted in you that night. You didn't feel an overwhelming amount of love and longing when you looked at your family, you felt anger. Pure unadultered rage, rage at Bruce for never loving you, rage at Dick for being a liar, rage at Jason for throwing away your bond and cool indifference and disgust at the rest of them.

Maybe that's why your abilities finally formed. Maybe thats why the place the snake bit you that fateful night began to glow as you cried in your bathtub, after being scolded all night and getting body slammed by Damian for trying to "taint his dear sister's image". You had powers now, the agility of a snake, you could eject venom out of your fingertips, you could walk on walls, now you could prove them all wrong.

okayyyy yall this was the prolouge. Again this is my 1st attempt at writing so be nice. If enough people like this I'll put out part one. Hope yall enjoyed and lmk what you want to happen next in the comments!!!!!!!!!

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Batman is confused. Elsewhere, a fox has dinner with a social worker.

Trigger Warning for starvation and animal/child abuse. Read at your own risk.

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have a question about the report you submitted last Tuesday.”

“What is it, father?” Damian stopped sharpening his blade and looked up at Bruce, still in his cowl from patrol.

“Could you please explain this… Fox… you wrote about?” He asked, carefully picking his words.

“What about it?”

The cave was filled with silence as they stared each other down. Bruce contemplated how to proceed. 

“Damian, foxes can’t do these things. They can’t understand human speech to the degree you described, they don’t exchange food for services, they can’t point you to the joker.”

“Are you calling me a liar father?” Damian snipped back.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“I didn’t lie,” Damian seethed through clenched teeth, “You can ask Grayson if you don’t believe me. But I did not lie.”

Bruce contemplated that reaction. Perhaps it wasn’t just a ploy to get a new pet. “Foxes can’t do those things,” he repeated, a silent question hanging in the air.

“I know.”

~~~~

Jason did not yelp. He did not jump and definitely did not scream like a 5 year old watching a horror movie. In fact he did not react at all when he walked into his safe house, turned on the light, and heard the gravelly voice of the 6 foot tall hell beast behind him calling his name. Nope. Not a single reaction. Not even a flinch. Totally. Definitely. 

Which is why Bruce’s current expression is completely unwarranted. It was the expression he made when Jason ate 5 plates of pancakes in one sitting two months into living with him. It was the expression he made when Jason lost his tooth naturally for the first time — rather than in a fight. It was the expression he made when Jason cried over a bruised knee when learning how to ride a bike. It was the expression he made when Cass fell asleep against him during a movie, close and comfortable. It was the expression he made when Stephanie would show off a new skill she learned or hobby she picked up. It was the expression he made when Tim would show off his photos, or when Babs would take a break to read a new book. It was the expression he made when Damian would ask for a play date, or Dick would show off new clothes. It was the expression he made when his kids, his family, acted like normal people, and not vigilantes burdened with a fight they could never win. And there was no reason for him to make that awful, soft, sappy, expression now because Jason did not scream.

“The fuck you want?” Jason snapped (because he was upset about being intruded upon, and definitely, totally not because he was embarrassed about squealing like a little girl. Which is something he did not do, by the way.)

“I wanted to ask you about something,” his voice was clear and stern, but still held concern and care.

Jason tilted his head toward Bruce, urging him to continue. “Damian wrote a report I found… odd. It was about your informant,” That idiotic fool “I was hoping you could clarify something.” 

Jason signed, he’d reem the little twerp later, and plopped himself down on the ratty once-beige couch. “Alright. Shoot.”

~~~~

The clothes were itchy. Unbelievably so. They were baggy, but the intentional kind. The kind that hid how malnourished you were, rather than highlighting it. They were new, unwashed, ugly, and would likely be returned the next day, if the tag digging into your back was any indication.

“How are things going dear?” Asked Ms.Kelsey, a naive younger woman with a brown bun and thin purple glasses, “are you liking your stay with Neels?”

“It’s not the worst home I’ve been in,” you answered smoothly. That wasn’t a lie. Despite the fact you could only shower on Wednesday mornings, they confiscated your phone two days in, and they seemingly despised the idea they had to feed you, it still wasn’t the worst home you’d been in. Not even top five. 

“That’s good to hear!” Ms.Kelsey, your current social worker, celebrated. She was new to the job, only a year in, and annoyingly cheerful, but she was visibly trying her best. You appreciated that. “How’s school been going?”

“We’re reading Shakespeare in my English class,” you offered.

“Oh! And how are you liking it?”

“It’s alright, but I really like my English teacher, he makes it fun.”

“That’s wonderful sweetie,” Ms.Kelsey grinned, “Let’s go join the family for dinner,” she directed, standing from the worn brown armchair in the living room and heading towards the dining room where the Mr. and Mrs. Neel were seated beside their son, George.

You took your seat at the stubby table, across from George. The table was dressed with a tacky floral tablecloth, and covered with various mismatched bowls of sides surrounding a rather large chicken. The food was, as typical for Mrs. Neel, simultaneously overcooked and raw. You plopped a spoonful of soggy broccoli on your plate, followed by a serving of (unintentionally chunky) mashed potatoes. No chicken, you weren’t willing to risk salmonella or the screaming fit that would follow. Only simple sides that they have plenty of, so they wouldn’t get mad at you. 

The mashed potatoes crunched when you took a bite, and you tried your best to ignore it. They tasted wet and sad, and far too salty. Chewing was both difficult and necessary as parts of the food slashed down your throat with little resistance, and others put up a fight when you tried to chew them. But this wasn’t the worst home you’ve been in. Far from it in fact. At least the food isn’t moldy! And there’s no— no, wait, yup that’s hair. You decided to risk the chunky potatoes swallowed down your mouthful with a glass of water.

Ms.Kelsey and the Neels exchanged pleasant conversation, while you picked at your food, taking small mouthfuls fast enough they wouldn’t ask questions, and slow enough you could carefully examine all the food. The evening passed in a swift haze, with no mistakes on your end. After Miss Kelsey left, you helped clear the table, pack the food away, and retreated to your rarely used bedroom.

The bedroom had bare white walls, an uncomfortable bed, and a small dresser you kept your clothes in. It was fine. Everything was fine, you kept repeating to yourself. It could be much, much worse. It has been much, much worse. Be thankful for what you have. At least tomorrow you’ll see your friends again! That’s gotta count for something, right?

~~~~

“They… didn’t come today…” Damian rarely allowed his emotions to breathe freely, so seeing him look so defeated was odd.

“It happens from time to time. ‘Bout once a month,” Jason clumsily tried to comfort, “they’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Do you think they’re ok?” Damian asked, almost pleading, and looked up at Jason.

“I— ummm — ya,” he awkwardly placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “I’m sure they’re fine.” He was not sure, actually, but he hoped it was true. “Let’s leave the food here, so they’ll have something if they drop by later.” 

Damien seemed pleased by the idea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think 💚

Notes:

I put this elsewhere, but in case you haven't seen it: I'm having some technical difficulties with responding to comments, but I see them, and I appreciate them <3

[ready-to-read7]

Prompt #4

Okay I cannot find the exact prompt or story that gave me this idea and I cannot remember exactly what happened in the story since I read a very long time ago but the story/prompt did explore briefly the idea of an Alfred X clockwork ship which honestly hell yeah

so here's my prompt idea

So clockwork had adopted Danny as his grandson and they both are currently living in Gotham for one reason or another and somehow under some circumstances Alfred and CW meet and get along quite well so they keep in contact and eventually gain feelings for each other, I feel like in reality Alfred would gain feelings first but it’s funnier if clockwork gets feelings first so I’m going to  with that, so clockwork gets feelings for Alfred and Danny is stuck watching his grandfather dance around his feelings.

Eventually Danny just stepped in and helps clockwork ask Alfred out and Alfred accepts so they plan a date,

Somehow not a single member of the Batfamily figure out about the date but they get curious when Alfred asks for an evening off work and being the nosy people they are/curious they follow him to a restaurant where a nicely dressed elderly man is waiting with flowers and when Alfred gets there the nicely dressed elderly man gives it to him with a large blush on his face and this just shocks everyone obviously people like Cassandra, duke and maybe even Dick are like super happy for Alfred because he’s falling in love and finding someone that makes him happy, but Bruce and maybe the other kids being paranoid trying to figure out exactly who this is what they want with Alfred and if they are dangerous because obviously Bruce would be overprotective of Alfred the man did raise him and the kids would probably be overprotective of Alfred because he is there grandfather technically. So may chaos ensue as clockwork and Alfred go on  more dates and Danny is just helping them because he’s happy for clockwork.

And  Alfred knows about the chaos going on but he’s happy and a bit entertained by it so he’s just going to let it continue until they come to their own conclusions.

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

��shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

no series taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[artyandink]

———————————————————FRAT.ᐟDICK THOUGHTS ᝰ.ᐣ

PROCEED WITH CAUTION, LADY KILLER AHEAD.ᐟ

You're fixated on Dick's oral fixation. You'd known him since you were kids, he'd always be running his mouth with backchat to authority figures who weren't Alfred, or humming in awkward silence, or making those beatboxing noises. You name it, he did it.

It extended to his frat boy days, and oh, was that the #1 lady killer at Gotham U. Letterman jacket that matched his hair, not to mention the cherry flavoured lollipop he had permanently jammed in his mouth, rolled over his tongue, between his lips, like a toothpick on steroids but it tasted like cherries— see what he did there? With the cherry thing? No?

Wow, tough crowd.

You couldn’t even concentrate on your work, probably because Dick was sitting across from you — your best friend since childhood — with that damn lollipop, looking pointedly at your neckline as if you were some sort of snack, but that wasn’t new. Everyone was a snack to Dick, and vice versa, because you’d sometimes be dragged to a frat party by him and his mouth’d be interrupted by some random girl for five minutes to suck face.

Though you weren’t surprised, it was feeding his fixation.

Even though you were clearly the studyhead to his frat king, it didn’t stop him from sliding up the bed next to you, taking a peek over your shoulder at your work, a small grin on his face, clearly trying to distract you. “C’mon, sweetheart, m’bored.” He drawled, looking up at the time— what was it?

5:47 in the evening. This’d take ten minutes.

Your stern look did absolutely nothing to get the cheeky look out of his eyes, the cherry lollipop being pulled out of his mouth with a slick pop and he chucked it behind him, landing it in the bin easily. “Just go to a frat party, Dick.” You sighed— as much as you were his best friend, you wanted to actually pass your major, thank you.

“There’re none on.” He smirked, his hand running through his already messy hair before it closed your book and pushed it aside, and then he dropped the question. “Make out with me.”

Holy shit, what?

Next thing you knew, his hand was on your cheek and he was kissing you, pressing himself up against you, yanking off his jacket and throwing it aside— why were you undoing your shirt? He wasn’t even helping you, it was just how his soft lips pressed against yours eagerly and turned you into a slut for him in half a second, which he endorsed by kissing the valley of your tits.

One second, two, three and his lips were on your inner thighs, your head thrown back the moment his tongue licked a straight stripe up your pussy and your hand buried itself in his hair.

He was sucking your clit by 5:57.

“Fuck, Dickie—” Fuck him and his oral fixation.

@aliyahwritings @svnriseblvdd @faiszt here’s brainfood

[writing-mlm]

Hi, may I request a Tim Drake x male!reader story ? The reader is androgynous, has a rock/punk style, is a Japanese exorcist who dislikes heroes, and has an impulsive, shameless, and slightly paranoid personality. A fluff piece, please. Sorry for asking a lot, take care of yourself !

Stay for dinner-breakfast

Summary: Tim’s in a situationship with someone who hates heroes, this is just great. Pairing: Tim Drake x Male!Reader Wc: 3.8k tags/warnings: Japanese reader, way too many Blue Exorcist references, small demon fight

When most people familiar enough with demons or even the Justice League mention needing an exorcist, minds immediately go to the infamous John Constantine. The guy who managed to trick God and Satan, making himself nearly immortal. The guy who, admittedly, could probably control most demons with the flick of his cigarette.

Tim’s mind, however, wanders to a guy he met during his time abroad. When he had to do some Red Robin stuff that took him to Japan. He reminisces about it as if it was decades ago, in reality, it was two years ago. Hardly even two years, if he’s being honest. But he rarely is. 

While Bruce and Dick argue about whether or not they should call up John (the last time they did, Constantine ended up summoning more demons to deal with the initial demons and then blew up a building to get rid of the extra demons) (it cost Wayne Enterprises too much to justify asking that man for help again) Tim fishes out his phone. It doesn’t take him long to find the contact; it’s been what… a week since you’ve last spoken. He’s texted exactly three people within that week; Kon, Bart, and Jason. Jason because he wanted to know if he could join a drug bust he knew Jason had coming up. 

The answer was no. 

The phone rings as he spins in the chair, waiting until he hears that it’s connecting. Seriously, it’s already been three whole rings, what’s the hold-up?

“Whaddya want, hero boy?” You ask without looking down at the phone. Probably because you’re jumping from the ledge of a roof to a lamppost and then to the top of a vending machine. 

“You busy?” He asks, looking at the mole underneath your jaw. He hadn’t known that. Your head tilts from side to side as you make a noise. 

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Glancing down at the phone, you wink and then pocket the phone. 

“There’s a demon in Gotham, could use the help.” He says, barely able to see as you’re fighting a demon. His eyes glance up at the contact name Okumura, unassuming to most because it is someone’s last name but to Tim, it’s so much more. 

He thought it was absolutely hilarious that you were an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother, and had the same hobbies as the anime where the main character is an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother. You didn’t think it was nearly as funny. The first time he mentioned it you kicked him from a rooftop— it was three stories, he was fine. 

“Like now?” You ask, picking your sword— just like the anime character, he’d gladly remind you— and cutting the demon in half with a mumbled but strong prayer. 

“Yes,” He nods, looking at the live feed of a demon messing up the finance district of Gotham. 

“Fine,” You grumble. “You’re lucky I finished my work for the day. See you in a minute.” 

“Kay, bye!” He hangs up and removes an earbud, calling for Bruce and Dick who haven’t stopped arguing. He wonders how they’d get anything done without him. They stop and look towards him as he waves his phone. “I have someone coming in for the demons.” He announces and Dick just hopes it’s not one of his friends from his YJ time. He cannot deal with those kids after finding out they watched Santa Claus get killed by a sentient meteor and then spent the next five months delivering gifts. 

“It isn’t Constantine, right?” Bruce asks, arms crossed and a disapproving glare ready to be plastered on his face. 

“That white man has nothing on me,” You chuckle, entering the Batcave through the door, spinning a set of skeleton keys on your index finger before putting them back into your pocket. Pointedly, Tim looks off to the wall with a see, anime guy look before turning back to the task at hand. 

“Who…?” Dick slowly asks while Bruce is having second thoughts about letting Tim back into the cave ever again.

“That’s Okumura,” He responds, standing up from the chair to greet you.

You’re wearing a pair of jorts— but the good kind, not the weird-looking ones— with hand-bleach-painted crosses on the leg, chunky beige leg warmers over a pair of shiny black loafers and an extremely large sweater that falls off your shoulder as you run down the stairs overtop a black turtleneck. 

There’s a pair of red shades on the top of your head, they curve at the top in a way that makes it look as though you have horns. Tim decides to not comment on the obvious joke he could make. But you can tell he wants to make it because of the glint in his eyes.

“Hello!” You nod without looking at them, too focused on not tripping over the steps, and give the group a small two-finger wave. “Tim calls me Okumura, it is not my name, though.” The hand that was doing the wave meets his hand and you do a funky little handshake before you look over at them for the first time. You frown, looking at their suits. It’s not even a frown, it’s damn near a scowl. You look at Tim who just shrugs; he would’ve thought you knew he was with his hero family.

“I’ll head out the demon; tell them not to follow me,” You tell Tim and he nods, sending you the location of the fight. While he does that, you look around for a different exit when you see his motorcycle parked, ready to go. “I’m stealing your motorbike again!” You call as you’re rushing over to it. 

“Kay!” He replies, head still buried in his phone. The motorcycle reeves to life as you jump on it; Bruce nearly stops you but the door to the cave is opening and you’re off faster than he can move. Slowly, he turns towards Tim with his arms crossed and a lecture waiting to happen.

“You better have a good explanation for that,” Bruce says once the door closes again. 

“That’s my exorcist friend,” He explains with a shrug. 

“You have friends outside of Kon?” Jason asks, a teasing tone to his voice but Tim can tell it genuinely surprised Dick. He doesn’t know if he should be hurt by that. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs. 

“And he’s an exorcist?” Bruce asks, looking at where the motorcycle once sat. He really hopes you don’t break it.

“Yup.”

“How did he get here so fast?” Dick asks, a little worried Tim was hiding a person in the manor.

“Funny story,” Tim smiles, looking up at them before looking down again, leaving them hanging. Jason grumbles, air strangling him while Bruce just sighs and looks back to the live feed. Thankfully you’d already arrived at the scene and to Tim and your credit, you’re dealing with the demons fairly easily. It’s surprising that your face is hidden from the public’s view, he hadn’t seen a mask but he also hadn’t seen the giant sword so. Probably some magic he won’t care about but probably should learn.

“Let’s go, fifteen Joker goons spotted around the site.” In a fluid motion, Tim puts his mask on and follows Bruce into the Batmobile. 

When Tim gets out of the car, he immediately finds you. You’re on top of a demon, riding it in the air while laughing and stabbing a nearby demon. He stops for a moment, wondering how you managed to wrangle a demon enough to sit on its back as if it were a horse. He then sees the knife in its head and he understands. He’s nearly jealous of the sight. 

Tim finally joins the others in the fight, narrowly avoiding the demons spawning from someplace he hasn’t found out yet. But you have, because you kill the flying horse demon and land softly behind Tim, cutting a demon away before it can sneak up on him. He shouts a thank you, pushing two goons back with his staff.

“I said no heroes!” You shout as you’re running past, heading towards a glowing manhole. How he hadn’t noticed it before; he won’t ever know. 

“Did he say no heroes?” Dick grunts, pushing back two goons that tried to jump him. 

“Yeah, he got issues with them.” Tim laughed before he was punched in the stomach by the goon he’d been fighting. He grumbles, holding the spot for a second before he knocks the goon out. “How many more are left?” He asks.

“Four,” Bruce says as he knocks out one of them. “Three.”

He goes to reply when there’s a loud explosion from the manhole and he looks over. Blue smoke rises out from the holes and he abandons trying to help the others fight the remaining goons in favor of finding you in the chaos. He doesn’t know what the smoke is but he assumes it’s some type of Joker Gas and he knows you’re not used to that. 

Putting a respirator on his face, he moves the manhole cover and jumps down. He squints into the blue fog, listening for noises but there’s a lot. There are hundreds of insect demons scurrying around him, hissing from the pipes, and he stops to really listen. He hears a string of coughs and follows it, the smoke getting thicker but he sees the faint outline of you lying on your back. 

“You don’ need a mask,” You huff, waving your hand in an attempt to move the smoke. “It is not poison.” 

“What is it?” He asks, removing the respirator as the smoke starts to clear, escaping up to the manhole. Your figure gets clearer, he can see your shirt and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“Spell,” You respond. “A… boobtrap for the talisman.”

“Boobytrap.” He corrects, putting the small device back into his pocket.

“That is what I said.” You blink, sitting up. He doesn’t fight you on that and helps you to your feet before he stops, hand still in yours. Now that you’re up close, he can really see you and when his eyes trail down, he inhales sharply and looks away.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” He says, covering his mouth with his free hand. 

“What? Did I get ugly? Do I look like you?” You ask, genuinely concerned as you pat your face but calm down when you feel your features. 

“Worse,” He grins and reaches around to grab your newly formed tail. “You really are Okumura now!” You shout, tugging at the tail only to wince because it’s connected to you. It only makes him laugh harder and you shout again, shaking him.

“This is not funny!” You tell him and then pause. “Thhhis,” You repeat and then cover your mouth. His eyebrows raise and, to his credit, he stops laughing. At least until you remove your hand and open your mouth, showing off the newly formed sharp canines. He barks a laugh and then pushes your hair away from your ear and you watch in horror as he spins on his heel to hide his expression. 

“You two okay down there?” Dick shouts from the top of the manhole.

“Fine!” Tim replies through his laugh. 

“That was one voice!”

“Fine!” You reply, even though you’re freaking out as your fingers trace over the suddenly sharp ears on your head. 

“I'm cursed!” You cry, dropping your head onto Tim’s shoulder, your ear nearly poking him in the eye. “This is your fault.” Pushing him away, you pick up your sword from the floor and resheath it with ease. “Never trust a hero,” You grunt, rushing over to the manhole.

“My fault?” He echos, following you out of the manhole. 

“You called me into your freaky city!” Climbing to the top of the manhole, you sit and kick his face. Not too hard, though. He shouts, holding his nose with one hand and the railing with the other. Standing up, you redo your hair over your ears and try to stuff the tail into your pants but it swings wildly and then wraps around something that’s behind you. 

When you look at what it was holding, you find it’s wrapped around Tim’s hand, helping him out of the manhole. 

“I think it likes you,” You grin despite yourself. 

“So, you like the tail?” He asks, checking his nose through the reflective metal of his staff. Thankfully his nose wasn’t broken, but it was throbbing in pain. Red on the end and he’s rubbing it with his free hand. You shrug, crossing your arms. 

“If it holds you like that,” Winking, he rolls his eyes under the mask and looks over at his family. Your eyes follow and you check your phone; there are no texts from anyone but you pretend that there are. 

“Wow, glad we settled that then.” He hums, smiling at you. 

“Mhmm, well, bye!” 

“Wait—“ He grabs the tail as you’re walking away and you grunt, eyes wide as you turn to look at him. Your eyes dart to and from the tail, watching as his fingers absentmindedly play with the soft furs on the end. “Stay for dinner, you did say I owed you.” When you first met, you’d gotten a glorious dinner and he ran into you, spilling it right into a sewer drain. You still think about that day and get upset. 

“Is it…” You cringe as you can’t find the right word. “American food?” He chuckles, remembering the countless videos you’ve sent him with angry and crying emojis. Hotdogs in jello, white bread soaked in water, mashed potatoes made out of potato chips, and boiled plain, unseasoned chicken with unwashed white rice.

“It’s not the American food you sent me.” He promises. “It’s good, I like it.” Your face scrunches as that’s not much to go off of; the man drinks Monster Energy’s like it's water. You’re sure it’s melted off his taste buds at this point.

“But you also like the vending machine cakes.” 

“It was good.” He defends. “But this is really good, trust me?”

“I wasn’t invited by B,” You glance over at the scowling Batman and glare back. Tim grabs your face, turning you to look back at him. You smile at him in a way that makes his stomach flutter and he clears his throat, dropping his hand. 

“Ugh! B, can he stay for dinner?” He asks, pressing his finger against his earpiece. 

“No.”

“He said yes,” He smiles and you struggle to still say no to him.

“I have to speak to the council about this—“ You gesture to your newly formed tail and ears. “Raincheck.”

Tim sighs but relents. 

“We’ll make your favorite next time; as a thank you.” He promises and you nod, waving before jogging up to a random door. The team watches as you pull out the keys and open the door, showing the headquarters of the council you work for. You wave again, your tail waving along before the door closes. 

“Better than Constantine,” Jason says as he looks at the ash on the ground. 

—

“That skirt does not go with that shirt,” Damian stops at Tim’s door, blinking at the oak door as Tim laughs. “I regret buying you VIP and custom makeup,” Now, Damian’s no idiot. He has friends and Jon, much to his chagrin, has gotten him into Roblox. So he knows very well that Tim is talking about Dress to Impress. 

“What? It looks cute!” Another voice defends, a voice that isn’t one he’s familiar with. He’d assumed Tim was talking to Kon, maybe Bart, or even himself. “You’re the one wearing a neon green fur hat when the theme is Victorian!” Carefully, he grabs onto the brass doorknob, pressing his other hand to the door and slowly turns it. 

“It’s camp,” Tim replies. He’s sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and laptop perched between them. Regrettably, he’s in an old band t-shirt and sweats; not company attire Damian would later remark. Across from him, sitting with their back to the door, Damian stares at the dangling sword earrings and then the tattered Eastern Youth shirt overtop a pair of leather pants. But his focus is on the tail swishing back and forth. 

“It’s ugly, just like your face,” You remark. Tim smiles, still looking down at his laptop, and moves his leg to kick you. You grab his ankle before he can and extend his leg, tossing your own over it. He shifts so both his legs are out and you naturally sit with your legs intertwined. 

Damian turns his nose up and leaves the room, the door softly locking behind him. 

“Pretty sure you weren’t saying that earlier,” Tim chides after the door had closed, watching as Damian’s footsteps leave from his door. 

“I did,” You hum, showing how you’d gotten first place and he’d gotten dead last. He rolls his eyes, leaves the game, and turns off your iPad. Next time he’ll just rig the game, clearly, the lobby didn’t understand his vision. 

“You should stay for dinner,” Your face contorts at the idea and you scoot closer to him until your ankles reach his back and his knees are at your ribs. “They’re not bad, not right now, at least.” He adds, messing with your studded belt. 

“I don’t like heroes, Tim,” You remind him. He frowns, eyes meeting your own. “And Bruce definitely will not welcome me after the curse,” Right, the whole demon curse. His eyes move to your tail that’s now wrapping around his left leg, the soft hairs brushing against his calf. While you’re not wrong, Bruce would have a heart attack if Tim was caught letting a demon (it's temporary, the council assured you) inside his house. 

“Fuck what Bruce has to say; I have my place! I run the company now, too,” He shrugs. 

“So why are we at the manor?” You tilt your head and he shrugs again. 

“Alfred offered to make my favorite for dinner because I haven’t visited since the whole demon thing.” You tut, leaning forward so your head rests on his chest. He looks at your awkwardly folded pose and pushes your legs. Getting the hint, you lift yourself and fold your legs underneath you. He lays his head on top of yours, using his phone behind your back. 

The two of you sit in silence until your legs go numb and you turn around, now watching as he scrolls through his socials. He shifts so one arm holds you close and locks his legs over yours while you hold his hand. 

Now, despite how it may look, you and Tim were not in a relationship. Nearly, you’ll both admit that much. But nothing that ever surpassed longing glances and touching that lasted far too long for the two of you to simply be friends. 

And that was for one simple reason.

Tim was a hero. 

You don’t hate heroes, simply a strong dislike towards them. For a multitude of reasons, enough for a twenty-page paper. Tim would know, he had you make one when you first rejected him. You don’t really trust them, all of them except for Tim. And maybe his strange friend Kon, but that’s about it. All of the rest can leave you the hell alone. 

Your phone buzzes and you spare it a glance; a call from your superior. 

“I gotta go,” You tell him but make no move to leave. He just hums, still scrolling on his phone. “There’s probably an attack and I’m needed.”

“That’s crazy,” He mutters, showing you a video of a cat lying down in an empty fishbowl. 

“And Alfred will probably come up soon,” The time is around when dinner is usually ready.

“Probably,” He agrees. Your phone starts ringing again and you stare at it. 

“I really should be going,” 

“You really shouldn’t.” He drops his phone to hold you with both arms.

“I’ll get in trouble,” You look up at him and he just blinks. “They’ll take my keys away.” He relents and lets you stand but you don’t move. He raises an eyebrow and you smile before flicking him with your tail and getting up. 

He spluttered at the hairs, wiping his mouth as you shoved your feet into your boots. 

“See you,” You wave before opening his bedroom door to your boss's room. He sees the woman sitting on the edge of her desk, dangling her phone. She sees him and you quickly shut the door. 

Flopping onto his back, Tim runs his hands down his face and stares at the ceiling. He rolls over and looks down at your iPad, deciding he’ll just keep it until you notice it’s gone.

—

“Still have an issue with me being a hero?” Tim asks as you’re cooking in his apartment. You’re making breakfast for dinner, considering he’d come back at three in the morning and you’d skipped breakfast in favor of dealing with some demons terrorizing school.

“Yes, Tim.” You reply, setting a third pancake onto the plate. He leans against your back, staring at the side of your face while making sure to be careful of your sharp ear. Your tail pulls him closer and he snickers. “The tail has nothing to do with me,” You grumble, side-glancing at him. 

“Even if I say pretty please?” He bats his long eyelashes, making sure that they tickle your face. 

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” You laugh, pushing his face away. With a small snicker, he pulls his face and adjusts his grip on you. Tim sighs into your shoulder and then steals a piece of bacon, narrowly avoiding the slap from the spatula.

“Can I just be the one hero you like?” He hops onto the counter, watching as you continue to cook. 

“You already are,” You watch from the corner of your eye as he flicks his hair out of his face, studying you. He watches you for another minute or two, offering up forks when it’s time to plate the food. He’s clearly thinking as he pours the cups of juice, smiling while he jumps back on the counter before he eventually speaks up. 

“Can I take you on a date, then?” He asks, eyes flickering from the last pancake to your face. Pausing mid-flip, you shrug. Taking a moment to think about it, Tim watches as your tail slowly moves side to side before it settles on the back of the couch.

“It would be faster if you just kissed me, if I’m being honest.” You chuckle and his eyebrows raise. 

“You’re telling me all of this could’ve been avoided with… a kiss?” He slowly asks and you nod, turning the fire off and then moving to be in front of him. He reaches for you, his fingers curling under your jaw as you stare up at him. Opening his legs, you sit between them and mess with the hair around his face. 

“I just wanted to see some initiative,” You hum and he rolls his eyes before crashing his lips into yours.

[reds-hoodies]

Infinity Repeating

MDNI

Tags: Jason Todd x F!Reader, 18+, Alpha!Jason, Omega!Reader, SoftDom!Jason, Biting, Blood

Word Count: ~3k

Author’s Note: kinda expanding on this a bit and ngl I got a little lost in the sauce with this one… anyways enjoy!

It wasn’t during the first day of their stakeout that Jason noticed anything was off. Nor during the second day.

But maybe he should’ve known something was up when they charged in on the third day and knocked some heads around. Sure, he’d been a bit more aggressive than he should’ve been—a lot of the bad guys probably had life-altering concussions, he’d shattered a couple of jaws, and he was pretty sure he’d broken more than a few femurs. So, he’d be the first to admit, he’d been a bit… much. His frown deepened as he tied up the last goon and delivered one more kick for good measure.

“Dude, you reek.” Tim gagged, shaking his head as he crouched down to ID the cronies at Jason’s feet. “We’ve gotta get you to a shower, man.” The Beta didn’t mean anything by it, and Jason knew that. But as he re-holstered his twin pistols on his back, he couldn’t help but want to throttle the kid. He hated feeling this way.

Jason took a deep breath and held it, counting to ten, then thirty seconds before slowly releasing it. He needed to go back to the safehouse. He needed to go home. He stalked over to his motorbike, noticing the red and blue lights in the distance growing nearer.

“No worries, Jaybird! We all smell bad after a decent workout!” Dick slapped a hand onto Jason’s back. “How about we head back? Clean up, eat, and play some Parcheesi, huh? ” He’d looped Tim into a headlock as they made their way to their bikes. “The night’s still young!”

“God, you’re old.” Tim laughed, wriggling out of Dick’s arm.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” Jason grunted. His bike engine hummed as he situated himself in the seat, taking a moment to stretch the muscles in his neck. When had he gotten so tense?

“Oh! That reminds me!” the other Alpha perked up from his bike. “I left my nice socks at your place. Mind if I grab them?”

“Sure, man.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Just don’t make a mess looking for ‘em like you did last time.” He grunted and sped off, his two brothers trailing behind.

The ride back was quicker than Jason had anticipated. His mind was preoccupied with the mystery of his growing irritation. But where was it coming from? He thought he’d worked past the whole ‘edge-lord-angst’, so what was it? The questions churned, his fists clenched against the handlebars of his bike.

As he pulled into the hidden driveway of the building, his recent outbursts played on a loop in his mind—this anger, this aggression—it felt familiar. He let out a sharp sigh, dismounting and heading for the door. It had to be his rut approaching. It was a bit early, but not impossible, he reasoned. If he could just hold out until his brothers left, he’d be in the clear.

They climbed up to the safe house at the top of the apartment complex. Jason shoved the front door open, his brothers chatting behind him. He placed his helmet on the counter near the door, shucking off his jacket and gloves as he and his brothers shuffled into the foyer.

The front room of the apartment was dark and quiet, but something in the air smelled delicious. Had you cooked something? Or baked? It was a scent he couldn’t quite place, but it carried the same allure as you. It made his mind swirl and his mouth water. It was almost as if-

You’d gone into your heat.

Jason’s hand stopped halfway to the light switch. Fuck, he’d known—you’d both been tracking it, and somehow, he still forgot. That would explain why his rut came so early. He heard Dick take a sharp breath.

No.

Jason rounded on his brothers, hackles raised, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. The sound vibrated in the air, a warning that cut through the silence. With his rut bearing down on him, his Omega alone, lost to the throes of heat... He knew he was being irrational. And yet, the urge to tear them both to pieces clawed at him, raw and unrelenting.

The smell of danger thickened in the room, a warning that left no doubt: His brothers were no longer welcome. He needed them out. Now.

“Hey, look, say no more.” Dick said, ever quick to pick up on cues, raised one hand in a placating gesture. With the other, he grabbed the collar of the Beta beside him, who had been attempting to squeeze further into the room. Now, Tim stood stock-still in his tracks.

“In fact,” his younger brother piped up, “say less.” The Beta and the blue-clad Alpha took a slow step back, cautiously making their way to the threshold. Dick knew if he or Tim made any sudden moves, Jason would attack and wouldn’t let up until they submitted.

That wasn’t something any of them wanted to deal with.

“I’ll come back for the socks another time.” Dick huffed a laugh. Jason appreciated him for that, but his patience was wearing thin. For every step back his brothers took, Jason took one forward. He then grabbed the door and slammed it shut.

With Dick and Tim on the other side now and hopefully making their way out of his building, their presence lingering in the air like a threat, the urge to chase still clawed at him. You were in the next room and every instinct screamed at him to protect you, to secure his territory. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he fought the urge, forcing himself to focus. Kicking them out had been the right choice, but the Alpha still simmered beneath the surface.

After a moment, he hastily made his way over to the shared room where your scent was strongest.

Jason went to open the door, but the handle was locked. For weeks, he had been trying to convince you to take the necessary precautions to stay safe while you were alone. He was glad you had listened to him —except for now when he desperately wished you hadn’t. His Alpha clawed furiously in his chest, urging him to get to you.

He lifted his hand, intending to knock on the offending piece of wood. Instead, he pressed his forehead against the door, digging his nails into the palm of his fist.

Deep breath in, and out.

His nerves settled, but just barely. Knowing you were right there on the other side did little to help. To him, everything that mattered lay beyond that door.

Your whine filtered through, and his adrenaline spiked again.

“Baby, are you okay? Do you need-” Do you need me? I can help you. Please let me in, he wanted to say.

He was shaking. He wanted to rip the door off its hinges, to tear it apart, but he would rather drown in the pits than make you afraid of him. So, he slid to the floor, trying once again to calm the growling in his chest.

Breathe in.

His head swam, dulled to everything around him yet acutely aware of your presence just a few feet away. He heard a scuffle and a soft tumble on the other side of the door.

Breathe out.

A few clicks sounded, and the handle turned in his grip.

Breathe in.

The door wrenched open, and he was struck with the most delectable scent.

In. And in. And innn.

Jason filled his lungs with it, tasting the air on his tongue and savoring the flavor on his palate. It was heady and warm, with the unmistakable and sweet lilt of an Omega in full heat. He opened his eyes—he didn’t even remember closing them—and there you stood. You were clad in the oversized tee he had worn before he left, the fabric hanging down to the tops of your thighs.

You were panting, dazed, your hair a mess from pulling at it as you spiraled into heat. Your eyes threatened to spill with frustrated tears.

You looked beautiful. And if he hadn’t already been on his knees, he would have dropped to them at the sight of you alone.

He noticed the haphazard pile of cloth on the bed. Your nest. He was devastated. He wanted to be there for you, but he left you alone to bear this.

“Jason, I-” You hiccuped, leaning forward with shaky hands. He straightened on his haunches, his hands gently trailing up the hot skin of your legs. You pressed your face against his temple, your breath warm and ragged.

“I need you, please..!” you sobbed into his jaw.

And—shit—he’ll help you. He’d give you everything you needed, anything you asked for.

Jason scrambled up from the floor, his grip firm as he wrapped your legs around his waist. Holding you securely, he made his way toward the bed, every step deliberate, every movement careful.

“I got you, I got you,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, grounding you as he held you close. It only took two strides until he reached the bed where he placed you down into the warmth of the nest and made his way in himself, careful not to disturb the hard work you put into making it.

Before he could let you go, you pulled him into a steamy kiss, desperate and needy. He bit your lip tenderly then released it with another kiss of his own and trailed a large hand up your front to your breast, pinching and teasing one sensitive nipple and taking the other into his mouth, the large shirt bunched up at your neck. You moaned and your back bowed under his ministrations. His touch left a path of electricity tingling across your skin, it sent tingles down your spine to the tips of your toes.

He pulled the large shirt off you and threw it away from the bed. He tossed his own just as quickly. Jason then worked to take off his belt, eyeing your bare form hungrily.

You sat up, assisting him even though he didn't need it. You were frantic. As he threw his belt to the ground, you were already going after his fly.

"Shit.." Jason murmured, taken by how direct you were being.

You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

He pushed the jeans and underwear off his body, and he felt your hands reach for him. He quickly grabbed your wrists, firmly pinning them down to the mattress. You whined, and he responded with a low, rumbling growl. The sound wasn’t just deep, it resonated through you like a live current, igniting every nerve it touched. It set your pulse racing, every thrum of his growl fanning a fire that refused to be contained. It was an Alpha’s call, raw and commanding, demanding a response your body couldn’t ignore.

Your legs snapped open to beckon him closer, hips raising desperately, and you felt it. His cock lay on your front just reaching your belly button, it was thick and heavy, red and rippled with veins, his head so leaking with his arousal that it dripped onto your stomach. A wave of helplessness surged through you, leaving you trembling and mind reeling with each moment he spent not in you. Pleas and half-formed sentences tumbled out of your mouth like the tears from your eyes.

His thumb glided tenderly across your cheek, warm and deliberate, as if tracing the path of your tears. He pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your lips, savoring the faint taste of salt— he hated making you cry, but he loved the way you looked when you were needy like this. A guilty pleasure he would never admit.

He sat back up and hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. It was then as he went to line himself to your entrance that his breath stopped, he swallowed hard. Any other time he would work you open slowly, and he figured with your heat, he wouldn’t need to, but goddamn.

Your pussy was drooling.

He wanted to have his fill of you, to taste you and spell his name on your clit with his tongue over and over again. Marking you in one more way for himself. And fuck, he just might... He was salivating at the thought of getting his mouth on you.

Breath ragged, Jason traced a thumb up the seam of your opening, gathering your slick and almost dipping his finger into you before he pressed teasingly to the bundle of nerves at the top. You hissed a whine and arched your hips up for more. He instead pulled back his hand, where a sticky, thick trail of your own slick followed behind, it reminded him of honey. He popped it into his mouth— And tasted just as sweet, he groaned.

“Jason, please- I swear to god if you don’t do something,” Your voice snapped him out of his reverie. His eyes flicked to your own and down where you gripped desperately at his thighs and raised your hips once again, willing him to fuck you like he ought to, like he promised.

He then finally, finally started to push into you. You’re tight and warm. He rocked into you slowly, you can feel his cockhead slip in, parting you, and all your thoughts dissolved on your tongue, swept away by the sudden rush of pleasure that rendered your mind blank. At Jason’s final thrust, his hips are pressed flush against your own.

You felt deliciously full, and he watched your eyes flutter closed as you savored the moment’s perfection. A warmth spreading through you that almost made a purr rumble in your throat. You felt all of Jason inside you, filling you, pressing you. Amazing. So much better than your fingers.

His eyes locked with your hazy ones, your gaze glazed over with a debauched satisfaction.

“How you doin’, babe?” He huffs out.

You lick your lips and nod to him. He pressed his forehead to yours and laughed, low and breathy.

He was shaking holding himself there, steady for you to get used to his stretch until you carded your fingers through his hair in a silent plea.

To which He slowly pulled his hips away and promptly snapped his hips back to you. The sound that fell from your lips was wanton and so, so perfect. That had his Alpha howling. He needed another.

Jason’s restraint shattered, and he gave himself over completely to blind, ravenous, ruthless carnality.

Your voice went higher, shameless in its desire as he fucked you like his life depended on it. Pistoning himself into you, the headboard slammed repeatedly against the wall.

Although he fortified the apartment with soundproof doors and walls, Jason was sure even the neighbors two floors down would know his name.

Let them hear.

And he told you as much, your moans tumbled out of you non-stop, falling right into his ear and it sent shivers down his spine. He ran his tongue over his teeth before lapping at your neck and nipping at the tender and swollen scent glands there.

“Shit, please, Jason.”

Your voice high and full with need as you clutched at his shoulders and slammed your hips up to meet his own. You wanted him closer.

You felt the bite break skin, your body seized up and tightened around him as you keened with abandon. The Alpha tightened his jaw, tongue lapping up the blood as it seeped from the wound, beastly sounds pouring from somewhere deep in his chest. You had never felt anything so right in your entire life as this Alpha's teeth buried in you.

You frantically clawed at his back and writhed against him as you came, trying to push him away or bring him closer— you didn’t know. Jason held you tight all the same.

Jason was everywhere, he squeezed your waist, fondled your breast, mouthed under your neck then kissed you so deeply it was dizzying. Your Heat made him delirious, it wrapped around him and held him tight. He wanted to drown in you, to lose himself in every breath he took, as if you were the only thing keeping him alive.

Now Jason’s pace was growing erratic, he took your legs and folded you in half, bringing your knees to your shoulders and holding them there in his bruising grip. His voice fanned hotly against where he was pressed to your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You're practically suffocating up against him, chords of the muscles in his neck strained against your face as you tried to meet him thrust for thrust. You wanted more of him and to feel him deeper. In that moment you didn’t think, acting only on instinct as you sank your teeth into Jason's neck.

His eyes rolled back and you moaned into the flesh in your mouth as you both came. He thrusted himself in deep, filling you with his hot seed as he milked out the last shivers of your climax. He felt himself swelling, throbbing, his knot plugging you up and keeping him inside you. When you both stilled, panting and spent, he felt you release your bite and he gently lowered your legs to the sheets.

It took a solid minute or two before you came back around, limbs splayed, body jelly. Jason petted the shine of sweat from your brow, both of your breathing still heavy.

“Good?” Jason managed.

You nodded, and nodded, and nodded, mouth open. He smiled.

Jason’s gaze landed on a half-empty water bottle sitting on the nightstand. Snatching it up, he uncapped it in one swift motion and gently lifted you, pressing the bottle to your lips. He didn’t move, watching intently, until he was sure you’d had your fill. Only then did he take a long swig for himself before setting the bottle back on the table.

It’ll be about a half hour before the swell of his knot went down, he reasons. He tucks his hips in close and rolls you both over so you lay on top of him, careful not to tug on where you were tied together. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, feeling the soft rise and fall of your sigh against him. You kiss him back, fluttery and soft and tired just under his jaw.

——

Quite a few hours had passed, and it was daybreak now.

There was a clock on the nightstand by the bed, but he hadn’t bothered to read it and he didn’t care to. You consumed his every thought as you lay beside him, fast asleep.

After that first wave, positions began to change. He held you up and against him, jackhammering into you as he spread you open in front of the full length mirror across from the bed. He was below you and you rapidly bounced on his cock wailing and moaning as he fingered your clit. You were on your knees on the bed, his old shirt pressed to your mouth, fingers gripping the bed sheets as he kneaded your ass in delirious appreciation and left bites up your spine.

Now, you were sprawled on your back, one arm stretched wide while the other rested lightly on his, as if even in sleep, you needed to feel him close. The sight tugged at something deep within him, and he couldn’t help but smile. The moment filled him, rich and sweet, like honey spreading across his soul.

He laid on his side with his head in his hand as he lazily traced every mark on your warm skin. You were beautiful, a work of art.

His gaze lingered on the angry red bites scattered across your neck, a vivid reminder of his claim. A low purr rumbled through him, his Alpha stirring with satisfaction at the thought of bearing identical marks, a matching testament to the bond that tied you both together.

His eyes moved over the rest of your body to see trails of hickeys and bite marks, disappearing into the place between your legs where he had resided earlier.

He kissed your forehead and slowly, carefully left the bed. He stepped over the articles of clothing and bedding strewn across the room and made his way to the bathroom.

He returned to your side with a wet washcloth, and he gingerly shifted your leg to clean away the mess in between. He saw how swollen your entrance was, still leaking with his spend and your slick, and the second set of bite marks on your inner thigh. Mating marks.

The bruises on your body and scratches on his would fade over time, but these and the ones on your neck would stay.

After tossing the washcloth into the basket of soiled clothes, he retired back to the bed with you, lifted the blanket over you both and pulled you back into his embrace.

And as the morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over you, he continued to take you in. Although he wasn’t there for the beginning, he vowed to be there for you everytime after.

——

Lmk what you think!

- Goob

[feargach-exists]

Batman crack fic idea Janet Drake used to date Lady Shiva when she was in college, they break up when Janet marries Jack for social and money reasons.

Tim is born. When he's old enough the Drakes fuck off to do archeology and Janet hires a bunch of increasingly bizarre people who "owed her a favour ". There's a disgraced Russian ballerino, a mad chemist, the worlds best loclpicker, John Constantine, a black and white noire detective, some Welsh guy she found in the woods. Tim learns from all of them. Janet doesn't believe in public schools, so all of this is "homeschooling".

Flash forward, Tim is 11 Jack Drake dies on a dig in Australia, because a bird dropped a coconut on his head. Suddenly Tim has a new stepmum. Lady Shiva's nice, weirdly intense, but nothing he hasn't seen before. Janet takes over complete control of Drake industries, expands her business empire and destroyes her enemies with extreme prejudice. She teaches Tim all she knows about business. Shiva teaches him how to fight. Tim is happy he now has two mums who love and pay attention to him.

Stuff happens (I haven't figured out what yet) they find Cass and Tim gets a sister. Now, because this is DC and the children canonically yern for the streets (im thinking they're like 13 & 16 at this point), Cass and Tim become a new vigilante duo (I'm thinking Crows, one of tims nannies was an animal handler and he befriended all the crows in Gotham, they follow him around) and have perfected non verbal communication and creep out everybody with horror movie twin behaviour.

While sneaking around Gotham, they meet Steph, and she takes one look at them and decides that she likes Cass and that Tim needs to be bullied relentlessly. She is, of course, correct.

Meanwhile, Bruce is not having a good time, Jason is dead, and WE has competition for the first time in his life. He'd like to spiral into a pit of despair and find out who the new vigilantes are (and why are there so many birds?), but if he does that, Lucius will kill him or, worse, quit his job. So, instead, he and Dick are sent to therapy.

Jason comes back fully expecting to have to do a whole production out of this situation, takes one look at Bruce being forced to sit in a meeting with Janet and decides that he's fine actually, and why the fuck is Lady Shiva just hanging out at this gala with two kids hanging onto her?

By the time Damian is dropped off, everyone except for Bruce knows who the Crows are, Cass and Tim come over to hang out all the time. Damian is confused as to why The One Wo Sees All is in his father's house and how her brother manages to somehow be scarier than her. Damian does not like to be confused, so he still tries to kill Tim. This devolves into a roadrunner situation where Tim pulls out increasingly niche skills to get out of Damians traps. Later, this becomes enrichment for both of them.

When Tim is 15 and Cass 18, their mums decide they're old enough to be fine living with Bruce while they go off on their own adventures. Dick brings the Crows over to meet the Titans. He's told them about his cute baby siblings (Bruce is not the only one with an adoption problem). These children are not cute. They invoke fight or flight responses. Kon has one conversation with Tim, gets info dumped on, and falls in love immediately. He's finally found someone with an equal, if not greater, amount of weird, eclectic knowledge. Young Justice adventures are somehow even more bizarre than yj98. They are having the times of their lives.

Since Tim was never robin, Duke never started the We are Robin gang. But the Crows do have a cult, and he might be in it. His parents still get jokerised, and he starts living in Wayne manor proceeds to fit right in with the insanity (Bruce has given up on trying to control any of it).

The Justice League dreads whenever they have to meet with any of the younger Gotham vigilantes. Somehow, Jason ended up as the most almost well-adjusted one. He doesn't know how that happened either.

[parker-artio]

Bruce Wayne is super good with little kids and babies- like scarily good with them. Sure, he’s got six kids of his own and even a few honorary children, but all of them came at a point when he didn’t need to know that. None of them were in diapers, they knew how to get dressed themselves, how to communicate their wants and needs, ect. They were old enough to not need to know the baby, toddler, pre-school/early-school, time period stuff.

But Bruce knows how to do that stuff. He knows how to change a diaper, how to give a baby a bottle, how to help a kid get dressed, how to make a kid understand their decisions, ect. He’s good at it too. No one knows how he knows this. Not even Alfred. Bruce plans to taking this to the grave, no one will know, and he hopes no one find out.

But there is one person who knows- well a small group of people who know, and that’s a group of young women who have kids all about 9 to 10 years younger than Dick. (Around the same age as Tim and Stephanie.) The only reason they know is because they learned it with him.

Bruce was young, impulsively adopted a young kid who he saw himself in and when he finally realized what he did. But he couldn’t stop it, he’s grown attached to the kid already. So he did the only rational thing. He looked up ‘Parenting Classes for New Young Parents’ and he got very few results. But that was probably on him for being so vague. He goes to the first class and immediately realizes his mistake. The class he picked was for young expecting mothers. Or young mothers who just had their baby’s. Not for 8 year olds.

Obviously the ladies were surprised to see Bruce fucking Wayne at a parenting class. He was older than some of them, younger than other of them, but what they all knew is that this was Bruce Wayne. He had a reputation. So what does Bruce do?

He plays along- obviously.

The Teacher (literally shitting bricks): Hi… how about we all go around and introduce ourselves?

No one goes forth all still just a bit stunned.

Bruce (also shitting bricks and trying to make a cover story on the spot): Hello, my name is Bruce Wayne… you probably knew that, but I’m here to learn about how to care for a baby. You never know with me.

One of the other ladies: Best to learn early!

All of those ladies have a cover story on how they met Bruce Wayne, none of them will actually admit it, especially since after all of the classes were over he revealed to have taken in a kid who was already about 10 years old. They immediately realized why he looked so confused walking into the class the first day. No one knows. But that small group of ladies. Bruce might recognize one of them out in public and greet her by name, and they’d do the same back.

So when Batman find a baby after a wide scale attack and knows how to care for it- before any of the other Justice League members can- they don’t ask any question’s. Hell he looks scarier taking care of the baby than he does when he’s all moody and brooding.

[gothamundernightlight]

Counterpoint:

Arabic cursing is some of the most profound and poetic degradation to exist (exhibit A, cw: explicit language) and Damian grew up with those insults being flung around like it was no big deal.

The moment he understands what patrol trash talk is, he gets it entirely, so at the first opportunity, he debuts this on patrol and Bruce stops short.

Even Jason, Tim, and Dick just freeze, and all of a sudden the villain or goon they’re up against is all of a sudden just like??? Wtf did he say?! Batman’s not moving?!

And Damian isn’t paying them any attention, and just goes OFF!

And no one knows what to do about this tiny child dressed as a traffic light merging generational curses into yo mama jokes, and the only small mercy is that Arabic is not a popular language spoken in Gotham.

Bruce begs him not to do it again (he will anyways).

Steph (once it is explained to her what Damian said) is so so proud.

Jason gives the kid a sword and bribes him to say that to Joker next time they go up against him (bc I hc Joker speaks Arabic as a former ambassador to Iran), just to see what the clown does.

Bruce, adopting Dick: Aw-w, what a sweet little kid! Surely, he is so polite, and—

Dick, the instance he gets in the battle: You fucking disappointment of a person, and (string of curses on his mother language)

Bruce: Oh. Okay.

Bruce, adopting Jason: Well, Jason was well-mannered and soft-spoken so far, so, maybe—

Jason to the random goon: You motherfucking asshole, I am going to shove this boa to your—

Bruce: Right. Okay.

Bruce, making Stephanie his Robin: Maybe...

Stephanie, using the same street language Jason did, if not worse: I FUCKED YOUR MOM, YOU SON OF A—

Bruce: Whatever.

Bruce, eying suspiciously quiet Tim, who came to interrogate the goon for the first time as a Robin: ?

Tim, the minute door closed behind him: Listen to me, you pathetic excuse of a man, I am going to fuck you up, in an—

Bruce, sighing: Yeah. Honestly. Whatever.

Bruce, staring at angry Damian, who looks like he is about to explode, but keeps up as much as he can: Go on, chump. Say what you want.

Damian, staring at the floor with the deadliest stare ever: Not to sound unbecoming, but... Loser. -_-

Bruce, flabbergasted: ...Okay.

[sokoneedsagun]

Stephanie’s relationships to the batkids other then Barbara, Cass, and Tim genuinely mean so much to me

Like I can’t remember what comic it was in but there’s one that revolved around her and Damian, where she’s more or less forcing Damian to just be a kid for once while Damian just wants to figure out how her mind works

The relationship between Steph and Duke is so under explored but it could be so good, because their two of the only batkids who grew up at least semi-normally (or as normal as Gotham gets, also minus Stephanie’s dad being a d list rogue) and the two of them could just have a normal younger brother-older sister relationship outside of being bats

It’s similar to how I feel about Stephanie and Jason, who also have such good potential for a relationship, and it’s great that it’s prominent in the fandom but I do wish it was in the comics more

There’s also such a lack of interaction between her and Dick, like there’s a lot of stuff in passing or in group settings but it’s really rare that they ever get any dedicated time together and I think they should

Let Stephanie Brown be a fully fledged character with fully fledged non-romantic relationships!!

[hopefullyyoursmcg]

Please please please make one of the Batfam the father! Like I think that opens up so much more possibility for angst tbh than if not.

Like, with a member of the Batfam (like Tim, Jason or Dick) it adds to the idea that (Name) is NOT family, at least to the boys. If that respective Bat-boy is romantically into (Name) then that means the entire dynamic of the Batfam shifts.

But I like to imagine what it’s be like if (Name) has absolutely no idea that the Bat-boy is her baby’s father, maybe she was drunk or just genuinely forgot but it’s also so uncomfortable to think about that it’s perfect:

Dick calling her ‘baby bird’ or ‘dove’ or all these sweet nicknames seems increasingly more suspicious to the Batfam.

Jason being gentle and actually staying whenever she’s in/was in the manor raises a few alarms.

Tim preferring the coffee she makes to Alfred’s seems peculiar to.

Idk, it is totally your choice but I genuinely think that it’d be such a major shift from how most neglected!reader fanfics are.

Also, imagine the idea of ALL three of them possibly being the baby’s father. Of course they can test when the baby is born, but before….it’s a whole Mamma Mia story.

OH MY GOD MY FIRST ASK!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIIIII

Anyways.

I do like the idea of it as your point in making the reader more further from being seen as one of the family.

Routine!Reader honestly doesn't remember much about what happened that night, but if it was the Batboys, I'm going to say she isn't really going to care.

She doesn't know any of the family very well, making the situation not too important for her.

The batfamily will care though, very much.

If i were going to make one of the batboys the daddy, i would definetly see them trying to get a closer relationship with the reader, as she did just have their child.

But at the same time, due to Routine!Reader lacks emotion and straightforward mind, the only thing she will be thinking about is why they even care at this point. So what if she had their kid.

[gingeragenda]

Hello, I'm a delulu Haladriel! Fight me! *jumps up and down while swinging fists*

Hi delulu Haladriel! You asked for it and just like Melkor, I don’t know what a safe word is

HALBRAND IS SAURON. They are the same person and will be referred to as Sauron here in out

So it will be useful for you to know going forwards that trop is NOT a stand alone series! It is in fact an adaptation of some stuff that comes from a whole load of BOOKS! (Trying to keep it simple for you)

Now reading and understanding things is hard obviously, but lucky for you, there are also some movies! The Lord of the Rings trilogy will be really helpful for you to watch because it shows you what happens to your faves, Sauron and Galadriel!! YES, there is a canonical ending for these two crazy kids. Who knew???

SPOILER ALERT!! The final scene in RotK is NOT Galadriel and Sauron’s wedding.

one of the MANY reasons for this is that GALADRIEL HAS A HUSBAND. His name is CELEBORN. He is Celebrian’s dad.

SAURON IS NOT CELEBRIAN’S DAD

another reason is that Sauron and Galadriel are not a couple at all. Even if all you do is watch trop again with a real eagle eye, you will notice that they are not actually even dating at any point in this show.

another possible reason, in the minds of many people, is that there is absolutely no evidence in the source material at all that Sauron is even attracted to women.

He is however, well known for being seduced by Melkor, and for seducing men.

HANG ON GINGERAGENDA you can’t complain about shipping haladriel if you’re going to be making wacky out there statements that SAURON IS GAY.

I am not saying people can’t ship haladriel, I’m saying don’t be ridiculous and treat it like canon and don’t be a dick to people who like other ships or none. 2. I’m right about Sauron being gay - ooooh that’s annoying isn’t it, did it really get your back up, me presenting my headcanon like fact? Of course it did, because trying to make out one ship has supremacy over another or is somehow more valid is always nonsense behaviour.

There’s loads more I could say about this, so I might resume my rant at some point, but it will do for now.

P.S Charlie Vickers is not a DILF. No 32 year old is a DILF

p.p.s Sauron is gay