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callmeizukunotdeku · 28 days ago

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I love the idea of parentified Tim Drake.

Bruce loses Jason and isn't ready for another son. Tim sees this, he acknowledges this, and he's okay with it. He's never really been a son to his own parents so he wouldn't expect the neighbor to start taking care of him.

When Tim's parents come home, they're not mean or anything, they just don't baby him. They treat him as an equal--as someone who knows what he's doing--and that's fine, because he does.

He's been taking care of himself for as long as he could remember, so when people try to treat him like a child, it angers him more than anything. The way that they assume just because he's young he can't take care of himself.

Tim's been to galas before, though. He's talked with Bruce and the man never treated him like he was incompetent. Tim's parents would ask Tim questions about the company so that he could recite them to Bruce. It was a song and dance he was well versed in, but he didn't really mind, not when Bruce looked at him with such a fondness in his eyes, always saying, "That's really interesting. You know a lot about your parents' company. Did it take you a while to memorize it?"

And he'd shake his head and say, "No," because that was the correct response, even if it was wrong.

Even if he had flashcards about Drake industries and kept up to date with perception of the company and the stock value and who the shareholders were and what they wanted and what they were willing to do to get that.

It wasn't one bout of work. It wasn't a single night of studying to make sure he passed the test, but a lifetime memorizing information and then rememorizing it when it changed.

So when Jason died and Bruce started getting bad, Tim knew what to do.

He was used to long term projects where it would be years before he actually got to see any result. He was used to seeing adults as people who he was responsible for, though he had to admit that the responsibility had never been that big before.

When Tim showed up at Bruce's doorstep, he was young, just like both of Bruce's other sons, but his eyes lacked that sort of naïveté and childlike wonder that should have accompanied the baby fat which persisted on his cheeks.

That's what made Alfred pause at the door.

There was a kid. A black haired, blue eyed kid. He was young, like both of Bruce's sons. His lack of naïveté was something he shared with both children, only Dick's had been a fresh sort of loss, one he was still mourning, and Jason's naïveté was something long-forgotten and left to rot. It was a feeling you smelt when you left the windows closed for too long.

Still there, still somewhere, but not quite right and never able to be found, only stumbled upon in rare moments of something that could almost be called joy.

Tim's naïveté is something he left at home. He keeps it on a shelf in his bedroom, something to look at when the going gets rough, but something too fragile to be held.

Maybe that's why Alfred lets him in.

That day, Tim meets Bruce--not Brucie or Batman, just Bruce.

He meets a man who's hair's grown long, but not long enough for it to have been intentional. There's grease in his hair and bags under his eyes and you can tell that he's been biting his nails.

He's clean shaven, because that's what people can see when he wears the cowl.

Tim takes a deep breath before walking into the room.

Bruce doesn't move, but Tim doesn't doubt that the man notices him.

The room smells like alcohol--a smell he recognizes from when his own father is home, though he can't say he's ever remembered it smelling so concentrated.

"Hello," he says, when he's right in front of Bruce, "My name is Tim, and I'm here to help."

Bruce doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to.

Tim talks to him, slowly distracting the man as he brings him to the bathroom, first trying to put a toothbrush in his hand and then, when that doesn't work, brushing the man's teeth himself.

Tim draws a bath for him and grabs him a new pair of clothes, and tells him to take his bath, only leaving the room when Bruce finally stands up and starts undressing.

Tim takes care of the sheets, puts new ones on the bed, and goes to the kitchen, to find Alfred already making food.

The butler asks him if he's staying to eat but Tim just insists that he's not hungry and brings the food up to Bruce.

He knocks on the bathroom door, and when Bruce doesn't respond, he opens it.

Bruce is sitting in the bath, knees to his chest, crying, but not otherwise moving.

So Tim rolls up his sleeves and washes Bruce's hair, then keeps him company as Bruce washes himself.

Bruce finds it easier to get things done when there's someone else in the room--talking to him, giving him something else to think about.

Tim talks as he gets Bruce out of the bath and hand him a towel. He talks as Bruce dries himself off and gets dressed. He talks as Bruce eats the lunch that Alfred made him and he talks until he gets Bruce back to bed.

He leaves, voice hoarse from talking so much after living in an empty home.

He comes back the next day and does it all again.

Alfred doesn't know what he should do. He knows, of course, that Tim is young and shouldn't be taking care of someone at that age.

He also knows that Bruce is in no state to take care of himself and all of Alfred's attempts have been in vain.

Tim's talking was what got Bruce to eat his first actual meal in a week--not just popcorn and protein bars. Tim's presence is what got Bruce to bed.

Tim was what was making things better, so while Alfred knew he should put a stop to it, he couldn't quite make himself do so.

Instead, he started doing little things.

He invited Tim to stay for meals.

Invited Tim to stay the night.

It took a while, but eventually, Tim started living in the manor.

One month, there's only ghosts in the house, the next, three beating hearts.

One month, Bruce can only think of his son, the next, he's calling Tim his dad.

One day, Bruce crosses the line as Batman, and the next day, he has a Robin.

You know how things go from there, some things are lost, others are gained. Some things stay the same, others do nothing but change.

Bruce and Tim get better, but Bruce still thinks of Tim as his dad.

No one really pays it much heed, though. That's just how they are--nothing really to note.

It's Dick, though, who starts noticing something's off, because Tim never sleeps.

When Dick was first adopted, he had nightmares.

He'd remember what it was like to watch someone fall. He did not watch it from the ground, but from the balcony, holding onto a trapeze, moments away from completing his own jump.

It took him months to finally come to Bruce, tell him about his nightmares.

Though he was never told the details, he knew it was the same for Jason. He pushed Bruce away, insisted that he'd be fine on his own, but eventually started letting him in.

He never asked, but assumed it was the same for Tim. When Tim couldn't sleep, when he had nightmares, when he couldn't stand to sleep in an empty bed, he'd go to Bruce like the rest of them did.

It was a reasonable thing to assume, and it was a belief he only questioned when he got up in the middle of the night to get water.

That same night, Bruce had a nightmare. Bruce knocked on Tim's door. Bruce slept in Tim's bed.

Tim ran his hands through Bruce's hair, promising that everything would be okay until Bruce fell asleep.

Now that he knew to look for it, Dick started noticing even more. The way Tim knew Bruce's favorite food and the way Tim took care of the man's company so that Bruce had the freedom to do what he wanted. The way Bruce turned to Tim when he had a problem or wanted to be told he did something well.

It was wrong.

It was wrong and Dick was trapped because he hadn't noticed it earlier. Why didn't he notice it earlier?

Tim came to him first, asked him to become Robin again. Dick knew about Tim from the start. Dick was there for the entirety of his stay as Robin.

He was there.

So why didn't he noticed?

Jason sees him panicking on patrol and Dick just breaks.

He breaks down in his brother's arms--arms he can feel tightening around him as he tells him everything.

They talk about it a lot after that. Jason starts noticing things too.

They bring in Babs and start making a file--compiling evidence because there's always the urge to just ignore it. To acknowledge that Bruce is doing better than ever.

But that requires them to forget about Tim.

To let the boy take care of Bruce and not live his own life.

Because, now that they're looking, they can see how lonely it is.

How he doesn't have any school friends--he had to drop out to take over WE.

How he's grown apart from Young Justice--always leaving when Bruce is in trouble or needs someone to talk to, not able to bear the idea of what Bruce might do if left alone.

Because Tim knows he'll break.

Bruce needs someone to take care of him, and Tim exists to fulfill the needs of others, regardless of how much it takes from him.

So Tim goes and helps his son. He never talks about how tired he is. He has sleeping pills to fix that, and maybe he can't take them because what if Bruce has a nightmare and then he can't wake up Tim--it's unimaginable.

Dick and Jason notice, though, and they try to bring it up with him, but they're not sure how.

Not when Tim's gut reaction is just to start taking care of them, too. Easing their worries, telling them that everything's okay.

They want so bad to insist that it's not okay, that this is going to ruin Tim and he can't spend his whole life like this.

But they want even more to be held. To be granted that unconditional love and care that comes with being Tim's child.

So they try to say something--anything.

But then, Tim smiles. He opens his arms to them and asks about their days.

And they they try to tell him that not everything's okay, but Tim is smiling, and they try, but they can't say a thing.

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months ago

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Dom!reader x sub!Mr.Crawling

Warning: SMUT, hand job, teasing, pet names, did I make him too pure?, low-key self indulgent, dacryphilia, also kinda fluffy

Nini!rant: I did it again, I hate myself, it’s so cringe, why am I a pervert, I hate writing pls I’m going through fifteen stages of grief cuz I’m shamed and embarrassed

PROBABLY OOC, I HAVENT PLAYED THE GAME

What an annoying situation you’ve found yourself trapped in. Everyday was pretty much the same, not to mention you were a hair away from going insane and just murdering everyone. It was difficult to get along with the other creatures of this realm, since you couldn’t seem to trust them entirely. Who knows if these monsters won’t kill you once their curiosity wears off. The uncertainty regarding the language was also playing a role in all this, not the mention the filthy environment here.

You plunged back onto your small bed, the somewhat soft blanket and mattress working as your only solace. There was nothing fun here anymore, you spend your days searching for an exit, but you haven’t found a lead yet. With a loud groan, you turned and faced the wall, lying on your side. That’s when you suddenly noticed some movements behind your back and—

A shadowy figure jumped out from under the bed you were currently resting on. The figure smiled at you, he gave off a bright and enthusiastic feel, like a puppy wagging its tail. “Mr. Crawling?” You asked, slipping off the almost clean sheets to sit on the edge. It wasn’t really a question, but more a statement. He looked up at you, at least you think he did, and he nodded while saying, “yes! Me!” “What are you doing here—” You wondered but interrupted yourself, covering your mouth and giving an awkward cough, “I mean: Why you here?”

By habit you’d always talk in your original language first, only to realise they can’t understand it. “Me look for you, you okay?” The ghost asked you, his long bangs and black hair covering more than half of his face. And the parts you could see were mostly drenched in blood. “Yes, me okay.” You answered half heartedly, since you didn’t know how to explain your boredom to him. Instead of dreading that fact, you decided to focus on the more important stuff, pondering, “You here, play?”

He almost jumped as he giggled and said with an upbeat tone, “yes, yes!!” Pff, what an adorable thing, if there was one person who you trusted completely in this foreign world, it’d be him. And Mr. Chopped, mostly because he can’t hurt you. They seemed like the most harmless ones. “What shall we do?” You chuckled, mostly to yourself, reaching a hand out to pat his head. He was kneeling in front of the bed, tilting his head a little to give you easier access. “Me like pats.” He said, nuzzling into your palm with that usual smile, then he added, “me like you.”

“Me also like you.” You replied, and caressed his face, treating him like a dog. Or maybe more like a cat? Anyhow, what you said was not a lie, because he really is likeable. If he was a human you’d probably date him—

…

Huh, wait. What’s stopping you actually, its not like you are scared of him.

“Mr. Crawling, come.” You waved your hand, signalising him to come closer. He did as you asked and laid his head on your lap. “Good boy.” You praised him in return and cupped his cheeks, they were a little sticky from the almost dried blood, but also very squishy. Then you made him look up at you while simultaneously leaned down to his height, placing an almost shy kiss on his forehead.

A quick and gentle peck, just to test the waters on how he’ll react. His mouth hung agape, causing you to see the black, endless appearing inside of his mouth. Soon his surprised expression changed to his usual cheery one, and he giggled, “again! Me want again!”

You couldn’t say no to him, and seeing his rather positive response made you feel weirdly giddy. Though this time, you kissed him on his lips instead. Without opening your eyes, you still noticed how he stiffened, and it made you get even more bold. After a few seconds, you broke the kiss and whispered against his chilly skin, “me like you.” And yet another kiss, then you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him onto the mattress, asking with a pretty confident smirk, “you like me?”

His lips were slightly parted again, and his cheeks turned a little rosy. He still looked tense as he sat on the bed, one hand clenching the sheets, the other one awkwardly placed in front of his chest. Probably because he didn’t know what to do with it, so now it’s resting there. Other than that, his clothes were getting loose and slipping off his shoulders as well.

“Ah-” he gasped almost inaudibly, it seems he finally noticed, because now he was hurriedly trying to straighten his clothes out. You grabbed one of his hand to interrupt him and brought his palm to your lips, placing a gentle kiss on top, saying, “you not answer me?”

“Urgh..!” He jerked, and he blushed even more, suddenly he felt way too flustered to say the same words as before. It must be due to you acting all weird! “M-me like you…” his sentence ended on a quiet note, and he turned his head to the side. “Haha. Yes, me like you too.” You chuckled, then pinned him to the bed, getting on top of him.

Arms on either side of him and one knee placed between his legs, carefully spreading him apart. Frankly, you didn’t care that he was this big, tall and supposedly scary ghost. “Me like you so much ♡” Chu~ another kiss, this time on his cheek, then his chin, and last but not least, his neck.

With a tremble in his voice, and a hesitant body language, he wrapped his arms around your waist, mumbling, “w-wait.. what you doing…?” Subconsciously, he moved his chin to the side to grant you better access, and you left a hickey right next to his adam’s apple. “Showing my love.” You answered, knowing he wouldn’t understand what you said. It was fine, he didn’t need to understand. At least that was what you thought, but then he proved you wrong by repeating the word, “love? You— love me?”

What a surprise, he did know that word. Despite you not expecting that, you didn’t let it show and replied, “yes.” A small laugh escaped you and your hot breath tickled his skin, creating a contrast with how cold his body is. “Ah..! Me love you to-” He quickly answered, but not fast enough to not get interrupted. You caught his lips in a kiss before he could finish his sentence.

As soon as you got the opportunity, you stuck your tongue into his mouth, moving it around and listening to his soft whimpers. His moaning voice was cute as well, and he groaned so prettily, “Mhmm- hmmfff HnnGh…!” At the same time, you rubbed your knee against him, grinning to yourself at the feeling of something hardening.

Now what did he think about this whole situation? Embarrassing and simply too intense~ What to do, what to do, he’s overwhelmed! He hasn’t felt this way in centuries, no, he doesn’t even know if he’s ever felt like this before! It’s so strange, so unfamiliar and uncomfortably hot. Of course he knows he’s being greedy but he really, really wants you to touch him more.

His legs clenched around you, instinctively trying to close them, shoulder raised to his cheeks and hands meekly clawing at your arms that were firmly trapping him within your grasp. Those clothes of his were failing at covering his body, slipping off his shoulders all seductively. Not to mention how he squirmed around, eagerly returning the kiss but not knowing how to, just way too adorable.

Once you deemed him messed up enough, you pulled away, licking your lips to get rid of the last bits of saliva. His tongue was still hanging out and he was panting heavily, some water droplets could be seen on his cheeks. “Are you crying, darling?” You asked while wiping his tears away, in the process your sleeves got all bloody. “It’s alright, leave it all to me.” Even though he didn’t have a single clue what you just said, he knew by the way you talked, the tone you used that he could trust you.

That’s why he said, “me yours, do what you want.” Just as he voiced the last vocal, he hid his face in the pillow and with the back of his hand, not saying another word. You were flabbergasted, to think this cute, seemingly innocent man could say something like that. “You gave me permission, don’t take it back now.” Right after that, you slipped his kimono off, enough to creep your hand underneath it. He jerked around, not used to such intimacy.

Your touch was so warm, heating him up, making him shiver. To be honest he was a little afraid of all this, it is new for him and his heart is beating so fast. How should he put it? Once you wrapped your hand around his dick, he felt like something was coming out already, “s-slower, your h-hand, nghh..!” You stopped mid track, you haven’t done anything yet but he’s already reacting like this? God, the way you struggled to hold yourself back from fucking him up right here right now.

“Mhm, is this okay?” Gently, or as gentle as you could, you began moving your hand at a slow pace. Meanwhile, you nuzzled your face into the nook of his neck, placing small kissed everywhere. Occasionally you’d suck and nibble at his skin, leaving behind some pretty bruises on that bluish-grey skin. “Hnngh- mhm.. yes.” he nodded, shaking slightly as you kept advancing on him. What else was he supposed to do, or how else should he have reacted?

It didn’t take long until you picked up your pace again. Not only the sweet whispers of dirty nothing you loved to do but also your movements down there that was gradually speeding up. At the same time you’d mutter such perverted words into his ear, the way you said them alone got his head spinning around. He really wants to learn the human language just to understand what you are saying~

He wrapped his arms around your neck, then changed to clawing at your back instead. Back arching off of the mattress as his legs quivered and toes curled. More and more tears flowed down his cheeks, and he whined out, “too much, n-no… ah, nghh..!! ♡♥︎” you slowed down a little to ask him, “you not like?” The way your breath crept up his skin made him want to moan out again, but he instead mumbled into your neck. “MmhHfff, uh-UhmM, hmm..” yea no, you didn’t understand a thing of that.

“Sweetie, what you say?” You kissed the side of his head, and your free hand moved up to stroke his hair, sliding your fingers through his silky black locks. His grip around you tightened, and he was obviously unwilling to let you go again. But, he didn’t talk with you, most likely still too ashamed. “Not like?” After a while you tried again, and rubbed his tip with your fingertips, smearing his precum around. Then changing your grip with a turn of your hand, to rub his slit with your thumb, just tapping it occasionally while the rest wraps around his shaft once more.

“HnGghhh…!! N-no- me l-like, me like it.., like you ♥︎♥︎” finally he answered you, sitting up a little due to him being too excited, and you patted his back lovingly. He arched even more into your touch, whimpering whenever you made the smallest movements with your hand. “Good boy, I’ll speed up now.” You gave him a heads up, then you chomped down on his shoulder, at the same time keeping your word and going faster, pumping him up and down.

“Ahh- ahhhngn..!! You, w-wait~ ♡♥︎♡” He cried out at that, holding onto you so tight there will be bruises the next day. As if suddenly self aware of the noises he was making, he hid his face away again, finding comfort by burying himself closer to you. You felt your neck getting wet, if you had to take a guess that must have been his tears. Yet you didn’t stop, feeling him twitch in your hand, “it’s alright, I’ll take care of it.”

Another moan ripped from his throat when you did something he especially liked, he clawed and clung to your clothes for dears life, quietly sobbing next to your ear, whimpering so softly, “p-please.. co-coming out~ too much…♡♡♥︎” Luckily he couldn’t see your features neither because you were grinning from ear to ear, smiling so devilishly. Hopefully he won’t misunderstand. You stroked his lower back, fingers tracing the line down his spine, and he jerked once more. “Hnnngh~ please, pleaseeee~♡♡”

“You like that?” You wondered, even though you pretty much knew the answer. He mewled and withered, thighs still trying to close up around you. Seeing him being in such bliss and feeling so much pleasure made you want to completely ruin him, and you ended up going faster with your hand. That was the last push he needed to get over the edge. “Ah- haaaGgh…!! Ngh- please, mo-more, no-uhh..!!~♥︎♡♥︎!!”

And with that, he came all over your hand. Oh- he came a lot. You slipped your hand out from underneath him, staring at the sticky fluid spread over your fingers. Right as you planned to get up and wash up, he hugged you all tightly, not letting go while he slowly came down from his high. It seems he liked hiding his face in the nook of your neck. You drew reassuring circles on his back, cooing at him, showering him in praise, waiting a few minutes.

After a while, you nudged his head, muttering, “me go clean, you stay?” Your hand was kind of grossing you out now, you definitely didn’t want to wait any longer. He didn’t answer you though. “You wanna come with me, clean?” You changed your offer, considering the way he was acting. This time, he nodded satisfied and got off of you, quickly sorting out his clothes, “yes!!” It seems he recovered already, returning to his energetic state, that means next time you can go rougher with him.

“Let’s go.” You said, reaching out your hand to him once you got off the bed. He took your hand but pulled on it, just enough to make you stumble forwards. Without wasting that opportunity, he placed a kiss on your cheek, causing you to freeze up on the spot. “Me like you.” The ghost chirped, his bright smile returning to him. That surprised you, was it his way to get back at you for earlier? Unable to stop yourself from grinning, you chuckled, and it soon turned into a small, speechless laugh, “Hah- haha.. ah- oh fuck. What to do? You are too Cute.”

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