#x reader insert

[njghtiee]

teenage crush

plot! what happens when your little sister tells nightwing you used to have a huge crush on the first robin when you were a teenager? and the worst part, you have no clue that robin just found out and oh, he's not letting you live that down.

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Barbara was already at her desk, typing away when Nightwing appeared beside her chair like he owned the place, because, in a way, he kind of did. Not officially, but the whole quietly checking in on the precinct between patrols thing had been a habit since his early Robin days.

He leaned one elbow on the edge of Barbara’s desk.

“Morning” he murmured, voice warm but teasing. “Your partner in crime-fighting isn’t here yet?”

“She’s late” Barbara said without looking up from the monitor. “Which means she’s probably walking in with coffee as a peace offering.”

Nightwing smirked. “Or she’s avoiding me after bailing yesterday.”

Barbara’s lips curved. “Oh, she’s not avoiding you, Boy Wonder. She just doesn’t realize she’s avoiding you.”

Before Nightwing could ask what she meant, the elevator doors slid open.

You emerged, hair a little messy from rushing, one hand holding… a smaller hand. The little girl beside you couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, brown hair pulled into two uneven pigtails, wearing a pink hoodie with a cartoon bat on it.

And you looked… frazzled.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” you said to Barbara, still slightly out of breath. “Your father is definitely gonna kill me, isn’t he?”

Barbara blinked. “Why would my—”

“She’s not mine” you blurted quickly, gesturing to the girl.

“This is Kara. My… sister. She’s staying with me for the day. My mom just… dropped her off this morning without warning. Said she had ‘things to do.’”

Kara gave Barbara a shy wave.

“You’re a cop” she said softly.

Barbara smiled. “Guilty.”

Nightwing stayed quiet for now, watching the dynamic with interest. He hadn’t known you even had a sister. The way your shoulders were a little tighter than usual told him you hadn’t expected to see her either.

“All right,” you exhaled. “Can you—watch her for a minute? I need to talk to Jim before he catches me walking in late with a plus one.”

Barbara raised a brow. “You’re just going to leave her here?”

You shrugged helplessly. “You trust me with criminals. You can handle a kid.”

And with that, you gave Kara’s hand one last squeeze, muttered a quick be good, and headed toward Jim’s office.

As soon as you were out of sight, Kara’s eyes darted up to the tall, black-and-blue figure standing just behind Barbara. She froze for a second, then gasped so sharply Barbara worried she’d pass out.

“You’re—” Kara pointed. “You’re Nightwing!”

Nightwing crouched slightly so he was at her eye level, that easy, charming grin tugging at his mouth.

“Guilty” he said in the same warm tone he’d used with Barbara. “You’re pretty quick to recognize me. You a fan?”

Kara nodded so fast her pigtails bounced. “You’re, like, my favorite.”

Barbara glanced sideways at him knowingly.

“Oh yeah?” Nightwing tilted his head. “Favorite vigilante in Gotham, huh?”

Kara hesitated… then shook her head. “No. Batman’s my favorite.”

Barbara immediately covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Nightwing made an exaggerated oof sound, clutching his chest like he’d been physically wounded.

“Batman? Really? I mean… he’s cool. But c’mon—look at this suit. I’ve got color.”

Kara giggled. “You’re still my second favorite.”

“Second place…” Nightwing sighed dramatically, but his eyes were amused. “Guess I’ll take it. Who’s third?”

Kara didn’t even hesitate. “Robin.”

Barbara’s eyes really sparkled now, because if Kara only knew…

“Oh, the new Robin?” Nightwing asked, feigning casual curiosity.

Kara shrugged. “I dunno. I just like Robin ‘cause he’s small but still beats people up.”

Barbara snorted. Nightwing fought a laugh, shaking his head.

“Fair enough. I used to know a Robin like that.”

Kara leaned against Barbara’s desk, swinging her legs.

“My sister’s not scared of anything,” she said proudly. “She could totally be a superhero.”

Barbara smiled at that, keeping her tone neutral. “Yeah, she’s… pretty impressive.”

Nightwing’s gaze softened a bit.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, like he wasn’t even talking to Kara anymore. “She is.”

Kara brightened. “She likes heroes, you know. She told me once her favorite is—” Kara paused, thinking. “Actually… I forget. But it wasn’t Batman.”

Barbara really had to hide her grin now, because Nightwing looked mildly intrigued.

“Was it Nightwing?” he asked casually.

Kara tilted her head. “No… I think it was someone with red.”

Nightwing blinked. “Red?”

“Maybe Superman!” Kara guessed, like this was a perfectly normal thing for a child to say. “She said he’s strong and cool.”

Barbara lost it, trying to muffle her laugh behind her coffee cup.

Nightwing just shook his head in disbelief, muttering under his breath, “I’m losing to Batman and Superman. Great.”

The bullpen was its usual mess of clacking keyboards, muttered phone calls, and the occasional bark from one of Gordon’s detectives. Barbara was still at her desk, leaning back in her chair with her glasses pushed up on her head, quietly talking with Nightwing—who was perched casually on the edge of her desk like this was totally normal for Gotham PD.

Kara was still in her seat from earlier, feet swinging under the chair, fiddling with a paperclip she had turned into something vaguely resembling a crown.

The elevator dinged. You stepped out, jacket slung over one arm, looking unbothered—which was either your default setting or a survival mechanism.

“Gordon wasn’t mad, huh?” Barbara asked, looking up.

You shrugged, setting your jacket on the back of your chair. “Please. You know your dad—he probably thinks I’m some sort of responsible role model.” You grinned a little. “Poor guy.”

You stepped over to Kara, ruffling her hair briefly before sitting down.

“You weren’t even gone that long.” Kara pointed as you smirked. “That’s because I’m efficient. Unlike you when it comes to cleaning your room.”

“You really are a terrible babysitter,” Barbara said, clearly amused.

“Hey—she’s alive, fed, and hasn’t set anything on fire. I’m doing great.”

Nightwing, leaning back on his palms, threw Kara a little grin.

“She did alright, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah! Way better than when she had a crush on Robin,” Kara said brightly, without missing a beat.

The entire bullpen paused.

Barbara froze mid-typing, turning her head so slowly it was almost comical.

Nightwing’s eyebrows arched slightly—barely, but it was there. One corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin.

You blinked once, then looked at Kara.

“…I was sixteen, okay? Who didn’t have a crush on him?”

“Uh-huh.” Barbara smirked, leaning back in her chair.

“Yeah, totally understandable. He was… something else back then” Nightwing said very casually.

You narrowed your eyes. “And you sound way too smug about that.”

“Just agreeing with you. He was a catch.” He shrugged innocently.

Barbara was biting her lip to hide a grin. Kara, utterly oblivious to the tension she had just set off, swung her legs and added helpfully—

“She used to draw him in her school notebook. Like a lot.”

Your face went from calm to mild murder mode.

“Kara.”

Barbara was delighted. “Ohhh, I think I need to hear more about this.”

“She said he was cool and smart and—” she was counting on her fingers “—funny, and she said he had ‘really nice hair.’”

Nightwing almost laughed. Almost. He covered it with a cough into his fist, but his shoulders shook.

“Well, I’ll tell him if I see him. I’m sure he’d be flattered.”

You glared at him. “You do that and you’ll regret it.”

“No, no, let’s absolutely make sure he knows. You wouldn’t want to keep something like that from him, would you?” Barbara agreed sweetly.

“Why? Would it be embarrassing?” Kara asked so innocently, you had to force a smile. “For you? Possibly.”

Nightwing said cheerfully, “Nah, I think he’d find it… charming.”

Barbara leaned over to Kara like she was sharing a secret, whispering in her ear.

“You know… Robin actually grew up and became someone else.”

Kara’s eyes widened. “Like… Batman?”

“Not quite.” Nightwing added with a grin. “Better hair.”

“Debatable.” Barbara said, snickering.

You sighed, sitting back in your chair like you were ignoring them, but your ears were very obviously tuned in.

“So if Robin’s not Robin anymore, does that mean Alli can have a crush on the new one too?” Kara asked and you nearly choked on the coffee you had just sipped.

“Kara, we’re done talking about this.” You tried desperately to save yourself from what she could probably add, but Barbara just grinned. “Oh no, we’re just getting started.”

Nightwing’s smirk was pure trouble—low key enough to pass as harmless, but his eyes were practically glowing with amusement.

“Don’t worry, Kara. I’ll make sure she’s properly introduced to the… new Robin.”

“But she only likes the old one!” Kara remarked again, which made him only grin more.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered to him.

“Me? Never.” He said cheerfully.

Barbara’s phone rang, snapping the moment. She answered it with a grin still lingering. Kara, blissfully unaware of how big of a grenade she had just dropped, turned back to Nightwing.

“Do you think Robin’s still as cool as before?”

After a bit, smiling faintly, “Yeah. I think he is.”

The city had cooled down since afternoon, the air just damp enough to cling to your jacket. You were running through a mental list — groceries tomorrow, reports due Monday, the awkward “we’ll talk later” text you owed Barbara — when the faintest scuff of rubber on metal drifted down from the rooftops.

You didn’t even look up. “You know,” you called, “it’s creepy when you follow people.”

Nightwing dropped into your peripheral vision from a fire escape, landing beside you with the easy grace of someone who was way too pleased with himself.

“Following? No. Escorting. Big difference.”

You shot him a sidelong look. “Uh-huh. And why exactly are you escorting me?”

“Because,” he said, falling into step, “I heard a very interesting story today. From a very credible source.”

Your shoulders tensed. “…Kara.”

His grin widened. “She’s a good kid. Very chatty. Knows a lot about her big sister.”

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. “Please tell me she didn’t—”

“She did,” he interrupted cheerfully. “And I have to say, sixteen-year-old you had impeccable taste. Robin, huh?”

You stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, glaring up at him.

“It was a teenage crush. The kind that lasts five minutes and you forget about—”

“—except you didn’t forget,” he cut in, leaning down just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing glint practically weaponized. “Funny how specific she got. Funny how she remembered nice hair.”

You stared at him, caught somewhere between exasperated and mortified. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Oh, don’t. She was adorable. And clearly a good judge of character.” He straightened up again, hands in his belt. “But for the record, I had nice hair back then too.”

“Back then?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve been keeping track of your hair quality?”

“I have a reputation to maintain,” he said, utterly serious, which only made it worse.

You started walking again, and for a minute it was quiet except for Gotham’s distant traffic hum. Then Nightwing glanced sideways. “You know… it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you said instantly, which was exactly what someone embarrassed would say.

“Mhm.” He drew out the sound like he was filing the moment away for future use. “Still… kind of sweet. Makes me feel old, though. You were crushing on Robin while I was—” He cut himself off smoothly, pivoting mid-sentence. “…out there, saving the city.”

You raised a brow. “And now you’re here, walking me home like I’m seven.”

“Seven-year-olds don’t carry service pistols,” he pointed out lightly. “And besides, I like the company.���

You turned a corner into your block. You could feel the tease still hovering in the air like he was just waiting for the perfect final jab.

Sure enough—

“Next time I see Kara,” he said casually, “I’m asking her what else you told her about Robin.”

You stopped at your building door and jabbed a finger at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He tilted his head, that infuriating grin back in full force. “You think I wouldn’t?”

“Go patrol something” you muttered, pushing inside.

He gave a little salute. “Sweet dreams, Officer Robin-fan.”

The door shut on your groan, but you could hear the faint laugh he didn’t bother to hide as he leapt back up to the roofline.

[fromduck]

Me with you guys simping over hot men

[wisteria-bae]

“Reader has black hair and blue eyes-“

THEN ITS NOT AN X READER!!???

Edit below cut

Hey guys, so when I made this post, I was extremely frustrated and annoyed. Now that I’m way more mellowed out and had the chance to read a lot of reactions and responses, let me act my age and actually clarify some things.

First, I want to apologize to those who were deeply upset by my post. My post overall was towards those who claim they don’t write for a specific audience, and yet put specific descriptions in their work. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with adding certain details to your reader, such as gender or body type. The issue comes in when you don’t properly title and tag it as so, or completely ignore it altogether.

If you see my post as an eye opener and want to change up your work, then you have every right to do so, but please do not think that this is an attack or jive directed at you. It’s just that some of us readers want exactly as promised. That’s like blindfolding someone, telling them that you’re gonna feed them an apple, and then making them bite into a banana - peel and all.

I know some writers have said that they want to be more inclusive in response to my criticism. If that is what you truly want, then by all means, but I cannot stress enough: write what YOU want to write. Do not feel as though you’re being pressured to change what you put out; it’s just a means of how you categorize it.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, respond, and engage with my original post. I truly appreciate the perspectives shared, they’ve helped me see things more clearly and refine my thoughts.

[ghostedbunnie]

older bf!simon who is trying to keep you alive during your exam season in uni. he has to wrestle the caffeinated drink out of your hands as it makes your anxiety so much worse.

older bf!simon who has to force you to take breaks and he is not nice about it either. he'll throw you over his shoulder if he has to, doesn't matter if you hid in the library on campus, he will embody the caveman he is on the inside.

older bf!simon who helps you revise. honestly it feels more like a military drill than revision at some points, you fear he'll tell you to drop down and give him twenty when you mess up a definition, he never does but he definitely thought about it once or twice.

older bf!simon who doesn't go overboard with the praise when you succeed just a plain ol' "that's my girl." and a smooch on the side of the head is all you need to feel like you've won at life. and if it doesn't work out, he'll let you cry it out if you need to, doesn't grumble about the snot on his hoodie and then simply helps you out so you ace the next try because he hates to see you cry.

older bf!simon who was holding back on his urges the entire exam season so you can focus but once you're done with the last one he is going to town on you. i'm talking order some food for the weekend, lock the door and hold on because he is going to ravage you on any and every surface inside your home.

[shortnsweetsposts]

Child!Damian: *Trying to hug Bat!reader*

Bat!reader: Leave alone, baby.

Child!Damian: *Looked up at Bat!reader with them big ol'eyes*

Bat!reader: ...

Bat!reader, starts ugly sobbing and hugged child!Damian back: YOU'RE MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Batfam: Oh wow

[hyunsuloves]

omg girl I'd just seen your "squid game women with a timid s/o" , could you do the same but for men? thanksss 💖

super shy.

synopsis … squid game men with a timid s/o ꨄ︎. (or a part two to this.)

pairings … myung-gi, dae-ho, jun-ho, thanos, nam-gyu, min-su x fem!reader (separately)

warnings … fem reader, non game au, some may be ooc but what else is new, i apologize for any typos !!

lovely notes … the post i did with the female characters did surprisingly well omg..

꩜ [ 857 words ]

myung-gi / player 333 is so similar yet so different from you. he’s not a candid person, but he doesn’t always keep to himself.

he tends to keep under wraps but isn’t opposed to speaking out around others.

he encourages you to speak up for yourself, though he’s joking the majority of the time. he likes to tease you way too often for comfort.

“you know you can speak up for yourself, right?” “myung-gi, leave me the hell alone.” “this is what happens when i try to help you. so ungrateful.”

he orders for the both of you, so even if you weren’t so shy, he’d take upon the task himself either way.

he makes fun of people in awkward social settings to ease your worries. he’ll whisper the dumbest jokes ever to make you feel less awkward around the large crowd of bodies.

the both of you just stay near one another while in public. there’s nothing better than the proximity of a loved one when in the worst possible social setting.

dae-ho / player 388 is your polar opposite. he’s very social, energetic, and forthright.

he’s a social butterfly wherever he goes, and you have the misfortune of constantly being dragged along.

he’s always ready to go when you are. even if he isn’t finished socializing, he’s saying his farewells as soon as you tell him that you’re ready to leave.

“hey, you ready to go?” “we’ve only been here a few hours. go have fun, baby.” “no, let’s go. i wanna go home with you.”

despite dragging you to every social event ever, he’ll speak for you without even thinking about it. even if you can speak for yourself, he talks for you. he always feels slightly guilty for dragging you out of your humble abode to accompany him to his affairs.

he speaks up for you every time, without fail. he defends you, orders your food for you, the whole deal.

jun-ho is your contrast, as he’s far from shy. he isn’t always outspoken.

while he has a more free-spoken personality than yours, he has moments when he’s just as reserved as you are.

he’s the first to your defense when he sees someone troubling you. even if you weren’t his partner, he’d rush to your defense nonetheless.

“hey, tell me if they say anything else to you.” “of course. thank you, jun-ho.”

the way this man is so protective over you is so nonsensical. he’d be defensive nonetheless, but especially with your timid nature.

thanos / player 230 couldn’t be more different from you. he’s the most eccentric and outgoing person you have ever met.

from social gatherings to parties, to any get-together he can find, you’ll find him there. of course, he drags you along to wherever he’s going.

he urges you to speak for yourself more often than not. although he doesn’t mind speaking for you, a lot of the time he’ll put you in situations in which you have no choice but to verbalize.

“señorita, learn how to speak for yourself.” “stop talking to me, su-bong.”

to no one’s surprise, he’d fight over you if needed. if you’re being targeted, he’d attack the individual without a second thought.

his favorite thing to do is fluster you. compliments upon compliments is all you hear from this man, and it’s all to see you act all diffident.

nam-gyu / player 124 is, like thanos, your polar. he’s a very extroverted person, opposite your timid demeanor.

he’s a very lax, social type of person. he likes to relax when he’s at get-togethers, similar to you.

he loves to flatter you. it’s not even to fluster you, he just wants you to be so conscious of how much he loves you all the time.

“you look so pretty, baby.” “leave me alone, nam-gyu.” “what? i mean it.”

he’s the first person to come to your defense, as expected. even though he’s the type to let himself be belittled, he’d never let it happen to you.

he’s the kind of person you can sit in silence with and not have it be awkward. silence with him is quite comforting.

min-su / player 126 is literally your twin. the both of you are the most reserved people known to man.

the amount of times you’ve just sat in silence, enjoying the other's presences is too much to count. the two of you simply sit in quietness.

if it comes to something like ordering food, you often take the initiative because min-su is way too shy for his own good.

“can you order for me?” “of course, love. i got it.” “thank you so much. where would i be without you?”

the only person either of you is comfortable around is the other. you’re a wreck around others, but it’s absolute tranquility when you’re with one another.

if it came to defending one another, you’d come to his defense without hesitance. he’s more tentative to defend either one of you, so it usually comes down to you doing it.

the both of you are a shy pairing and a very likely couple that surprised no one.

[no-144444]

so good- o.piastri

꩜ summary: your best friend wins his home GP, but your boyfriend gets fucked up by a time penalty.

꩜ pairing: oscar piastri x fem! ln4 best friend! reader

꩜warnings: smut 18+, piv unprotected sex (please don't be stupid, wrap it up girl), oral (m receiving), jealous oscar, etc. :)

꩜ a/n: this is... hardcore smut. i'm just going to leave it here. we don't have to talk about it :)

10 second penalty fucked him, and he’d wanted to win so badly. In Lando’s house, take it all away from him, and fuck him up mentally. Show him that he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t fast enough, that he wasn’t winning-material, as Andrea so kindly had called them both. But he finished behind him in P2, and he could already see the comments online. He could hear the roaring fans as he stood on the podium, his brain full of every mistake he’d made, of everything he could’ve changed, of every moment of that godforsaken race. Then everything else that was bothering him came rushing back, having been pushed to the back of his mind during the race. He hadn’t realised it’d be such a big deal. You were British, he knew that from the beginning. You transferred to boarding school so you’d have a better shot at getting the college course you wanted. Fortunately, you’d met Oscar there and started dating. That was nearly a decade ago. You put up with all the distance, all the races, all the moments where he told himself he couldn’t do it. You pulled him back up with just a kiss and a simple ‘you’ve got it’. You still did it now. 

You had a bachelors degree and you were moving on to your masters as you worked. He was an F1 driver. 

Lando was his biggest rival at the moment, and you’d known him basically since conception. He liked Lando, genuinely, but Oscar was a silent killer, and that involved a set of skills, one being observation. He saw the way Lando looked at you. He saw the touches and the giggles, and the moments that he tried to make into big deals. He saw how you always politely brushed him off, just blaming it on the drink or him being touchy. He saw the way his eyes widened when you’d told him about Oscar, even all those years ago. Lando was exactly two years older than you, and you’d brought Oscar to your joint birthday party. You were 16, Lando was finally 18, and Oscar saw the way his eyes stopped on Oscar, sized him up, and realised he’d lost. He still did it sometimes, just these tiny double takes of what you actually wanted. Someone with broad shoulders and emotional intelligence. Someone with a bright smile that only you really got to see. Oscar found it funny, watching Lando get annoyed over the way you went to Oscar after a race. It always started the same, a hug in the garage with a kiss on the cheek, then as he dragged you back to the motorhome after media, you’d tuck yourself into his side, then, once you were finally ‘safe’ and inside the confines of the McLaren Motorhome, you’d kiss him silly in his driver’s room, plus sometimes, a little more. 

He didn’t take Lando’s jealousy personally, and it was flattering if anything. He knew how incredible and stunning you were, and guys looked at you all the time. They, including Lando, could watch you all they wanted, because you were always going to be holding his hand. He liked Lando, but tried to keep him at a distance. You? Not so much. Constantly, he found you around his side of the garage, always chatting his ear off about something stupid he did. It didn’t bother him. Well, he pretended it didn’t bother him, especially when it seemed all you could talk about these days was Lando. You were worried about him, or he was being more quiet than usual, or there was something wrong. It drove him demented. He just wanted his girlfriend to be his girlfriend for more than a few minutes. 

It all built up in his head as he looked around the scene in front of him. He was living his dream, he was loved, he was fine. That’s what he told himself. Just get through the podium and get out of here. The emotional regulation skills he’d built up over the years, weren’t working. He tried the tapping. He tried the breathing. Fuck, he even tried the 5,4,3,2,1 method. Still, his breathing was quick, his muscles felt too tight, and he could feel every nerve in his body, on fire. 

It went quiet when he noticed you in the crowd. He’d almost forgotten you came. You’d been so quiet, so unassuming, so you, during the whole race weekend, just supporting him with your small smiles and glances, fleeting touches and words of wisdom at the end of the day, that he’d barely noticed you. 

You stood behind the McLaren crew, who were all already rowdy. You stood there beside Tom, a soft smile on your face as you clapped for Lando, but, like always, you never clapped as loud for him. Lando noticed. He pretended he didn’t care and turned his head to the crowd, but that only left a satisfied smirk on Oscar’s lips. 

You were his. 

He drenched everyone on the podium, even Lando. He wasn’t going to ruin Lando's excitement of winning his home race over his own irritation. It’s exactly the juvenile shit that Lando does, and he wasn’t Lando. He didn’t whine after races, he didn’t talk himself up in the press, he didn’t care. 

In all honesty, all he could think about was you. His body was buzzing with anticipation as he walked down the steps of the podium and into the paddock. He just needed you, plain and simple. You came up beside him with a furrowed brow, he knew you well enough to know what that meant, and he nodded his head and mouthed “it’s alright”, which meant that you were at his side, hugging him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you clung to his side and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll give you a blowjob in your room if you want.” you whispered and he chuckled, though a lot of blood went down south and he could feel his adrenaline building up again. This side of you always thrilled him, no one else saw you like this, all horny and gorgeous, and he loved it. 

He chuckled and squeezed your hip, sending a bolt of electricity through you. “Sounds good.” he nodded and pressed a kiss to that spot under your ear, the one that drove you crazy. You smirked. Fuck, he wasn’t making it to media on time. 

You both rushed into his driver’s room, and you were fully aware of the fact that he had media, even if he didn’t want to do it. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed bruising kiss after bruising kiss to various places on your neck. “So good out there Osc,” you whined, breathless. “So good.” He loved when you got like this, all clingy and smiley, praising him even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. He knew if he reached inside your panties, you’d be soaked, and it just made his cock harder against his race suit. 

“C’mon pretty girl,” he breathed out, one of his hands smoothing over the side of your face, your blown-out pupils and shallow breathing a visible symptom of your arousal. Fuck, it drove him crazy. You make her like this and she loves it. She loves you. She fucks you. He reminded himself, like a chant in the back of his head. “I was promised a blowjob.” he smirked, that cocky, nearly patronising smirk that made heat pool between your thighs, and made you sink down on your knees, right there, right against the door. He smiled down at you as you made quick work of his soaking suit, pulling it down and off him, then pushing his boxers down his legs. He was already hard, already fucked for you, precum dripping down his cock as you both stared at it. You placed a hand on his cock, and slowly started moving up and down, spreading his precum all over as you kissed a pattern into his chiseled stomach. He tensed under you, grabbing his hands behind his back to stop himself from grabbing your head and face-fucking you until he came down your throat. 

You pressed your tongue flat against his dick and he let out one of those mangled moans that drove you crazy. You smiled up at him, and he was sure he had that image tattooed on his brain for the rest of his life. “So fucking gorgeous,” he spat out, his chest heaving as you looked up at him. You both heard the door slam next door, and Oscar just smiled back at you. Slowly, you licked a stripe from the top of his shaft to the bottom and back up, a hand coming up to massage his balls as you finally took him in your mouth, sucking him into your mouth as you moved up and down, jerking off anything you couldn’t fit. It drove you mad, how big he was, and how he thought it was just normal. He was hung, so much so that the first time you two had sex, he’d had to eat you out first to get your pussy pliant enough to take him, and even then, it still hurt like a bitch. Obviously, time had passed and you were finally used to the stretch, but even after just a week apart it would still stretch you out, toeing the line between pleasure and pain. He pretended it wasn’t an ego boost, and you pretended it didn’t turn you on. “Such a good girl,” he cooed as you started picking up the pace around him. You moved over and found his boot-clothed foot, and started grinding through your panties, your skirt already bunched up at your hips. 

A knock on the door stilled your movements, and he left out a disappointed whine, grabbed the back of your head, and pushed you back up and down, thrusting into your mouth as you both picked up the pace. 

“Hey man,” Lando’s voice rang out through the door. “I’m sorry it didn’t go your way today, but thanks for being such a good guy about it and congratulating me. Today means a lot to me. Thanks for noticing,” he explained, just outside the door, completely unaware of how fucking hard it was for Oscar to keep quiet when you were sucking him fucking dry. Holy shit, maybe he should lose more often if it means he got head like this. “Will you tell Y/n my mom is looking for her please? She wants to get a big family photo today, since everyone is here.” Oscar hit his head back against the door as he felt the coil in his stomach building. 

“Yeah,” he choked out, not having enough in him to give Lando a proper answer. Lando lingered on the other side of the door, thinking that Oscar was mad at him, but he just brushed it off. If he had a problem, he could say it like an adult, and he didn’t, so it was fine. You did that weird tongue thing that he adored, and his thighs shook as he came in your mouth. “Fuck!” he groaned. You didn’t stop sucking as he whined your name as quietly as he could manage, genuinely sucking him dry. Slowly, you pulled off his cock, swallowing everything he’d given you. Jesus, you looked gorgeous like this, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes blown out, riding his fucking race boot as you made him cum so hard he was sure he saw heaven for a moment. He smiled down at you, wiping the tears as you leaned into his affection. “Fuck, you’re so good at that,” he chuckled, hooking his hands around your waist, and lifting you up to your full height. He sat you on his physio table, letting you watch him as he got dressed into his new suit. Your eyes shamelessly ran over every piece of him, still hungry, still horny. He smirked and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Later, I promise.” 

He didn’t miss the way you pressed your legs together as he left the room. 

The drive back to your house was 2 hours on a good day, and the motorway was full of F1 fans already, so neither of you had been particularly fond of the idea of driving all that way back. You’d booked in the same hotel as Hattie and grabbed dinner with her before heading upstairs to finally put an end to a terrible day. Lando had asked you to come celebrate, even invited Oscar, but you'd refused. You said Oscar needed you, and even though Lando pushed, you'd held strong in your choice. It made Oscar bloom with pride. You chose him.

You showered as he watched replays, then he showered as you did your skincare routine. Tension buzzed in the air between you, it always did after a race like today. God, you thought back to Hungary last year. He’d been so fucking smug, basically feral, and absolutley obsessed with you. The bruises had lasted more than two weeks. He stepped out of the shower, hair dripping and pushed back, jawline sharp, and everything tensed. You didn’t speak. 

“Watched the replay,” he grumbled, his accent coming out more as his emotion got the better of him. Annoyance laced his tone, but there was also a reserved kind of understanding, like he saw the data, understood the penalty, but was still frustrated. Maybe it was the fact that Lando had won a race. Maybe it was the fact that Lando had now won his home race, and Oscar’s. Maybe it was the fact that finally, Oscar had made a mistake. You nodded, waiting for more to come, but it never did. You could see the way he beat himself down, those voices in his head shouting that he needed to be better, make no mistakes, fight more. 

You frowned and took his hand, leading him to the couch in your apartment-like hotel room. You sat him down and sat down right on top of him straddling him. He smirked, running a hand down your neck as he appreciated the sight in front of him. “Y’gonna let me take care of you?” you whispered, slowly grinding down on his lap, the towel he’d haphazardly tied around himself undoing beneath you. Thank god you hadn’t bothered with panties under your pyjama slip. He nodded up at you, already in a lusty haze. “Good boy,” you whispered in his ear before licking a stripe down his neck as he let out a whine, his hands grabbing your hips. 

You loved it when he was like this. Pliant and desperate underneath you. Slowly you sat up, taking his half-hard cock and jerking it a few times, his sharp inhales adorable as you played with him. His precum spread over his cock as your wetness literally dripped, soaking the both of you. His breath was shallow as you pushed him inside you, those pathetic breathy whines pushing out of his throat as he let you take over his body. 

“You’re alright,” you reassured him and he nodded as you slowly started moving. He quickly pulled your slip over your body to be met with the sight of your perfect tits bouncing in his face. Fuck, if he died right now, he’d die a happy man. “Touch me,” you bit your lip, his cock already hitting that spongy spot inside you, driving you crazy. He whimpered when you moved slightly to the side, changing the angle, and he pressed his mouth over your nipple. He sucked it as he made those desperate whimpers that shot straight to your core. “So good,” you whined, his hands tugging at the roots of his hair. “So handsome for me, o-on the podium,” you smiled as he thrusted back up into you and he moaned against your tits. “God, you’re so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” you cooed, and he couldn’t help but nod. 

“Yeah,” he let out a broken groan. “Wanna be good, so good,” he nodded, pressing kisses and love bites all over your tits. God, he was gone, just focused on how good you felt around him, and that mind-fucking sweet tone of voice. “C-can’t believe you’re mine.” He let out a particularly pathetic moan as you sped up, chasing your own orgasm as the muscles in your thighs screamed to be given a rest, but you wouldn’t, not when you were both this close. 

“I’m all yours,” you reminded him and he genuinely moaned into your neck, one of his hands grabbing at the fat of your ass and squeezing, making you squirm on his cock. Fuck, this was euphoria. “Always yours Osc,” you whined as he started moving your hips even quicker on top of him. His other hand went to your ribs, just under your left tit, that tiny 81 tattoo you’d gotten as a joke, but really, it drove the both of you fucking insane. He loved that his number was permanently inked into your skin, and you loved it too. He brushed over it with his thumb as he bit his lip to try and stop the incessant, and frankly embarrassing moans falling from his mouth. He couldn’t stop it though, not when you were riding him like this. Fuck Lando, and fuck his stupid face and Landostand. You wore his number every fucking day. Those replays, the things people had said, that move, it was all gone from his mind. Replaced entirely by you. Just you, you, you, running through his mind every damn second. It was a mind-fuck, how desperate he could get for you. He pressed his head into your shoulder as he felt his high approaching. It was like time stopped and the only thing that even remotely mattered was you, you, you. He bit into your shoulder, a high-pitched whine leaving his lips as he sucked over the spot, so, so close to cumming. But of course, you slowed down. You kept bouncing on top of him, but it wasn’t fast enough. He needed more, and you wouldn’t give it to him. “Too pretty like this,” you groaned, not wanting this moment to end, so you kept both of your orgasms at bay. “Wanna stay like this.” You pull in his hair again and he lets out one of those mangled moans again, his eyes filling with moisture. You smirk. 

“Please, just use me however you want,” he begged, those tears falling from his pretty brown eyes as you literally licked them off his face, already riding him quicker. “Please go quicker,” He sounded so desperate, so fucked, so beautiful, you couldn’t stop. His mouth opened and his eyes closed, his whole body practically going slack as you fucked him harder, his pussy gushing as you soaked his thighs with your arousal. You rode him quicker and harder, despite every muscle in your legs screaming to be let rest. His orgasm still seemed to come as a surprise, and he let out the loudest, most embarrassing moan he’d ever made. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated after it, letting you keep using him, even as he fought overstimulation. It triggered your orgasm, soaking his thighs as his cum dripped out of you. Still, you kept riding. You didn’t want the moment to end. His hands tried to grab your waist, tried to slow down your movements as he was fucked into overstimulation, his soft cock getting hard inside you again. “Fuck baby,” he pushed down on your stomach, then wrapped an arm around your waist and flipped the order. Now he was on top of you. He flipped you over, your ass wiggling against him as he lined himself up with your cunt. “Such a good girl for me, right?” he whispered in your ear, gaining a groan the second he bottomed out in you. You moaned like a whore as he fucked into you as quick as he could. The pain of the overstimulation melted away as he kept going, kept fucking you and toying with your pretty clit, hearing all those noises you made. You drove him insane. 

“Fuck! Osc! Harder!” you begged, sobs ripping from your throat in time with his brutal thrusts. He was unrelenting, especially as he played with your clit. You grabbed at the couch cushions, the heat in your stomach building for the second time. “I love you,” you babbled as you came all over him. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” It fell from your lips like a mantra, and it just pushed him towards his own orgasm quicker.  This was a reminder. You chose him. Nothing Lando or the media, or McLaren said or did, would change that. You were his, entirely. 

After a few minutes of being collapsed on the couch, you cuddled on top of him, resting your head on his neck as he smiled. “You alright?” you asked softly, a satisfied smile on your lips despite reeking of sex. He nodded and wrapped his arms around you. 

“I’m better than alright,” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Lando may have won the Grand Prix. McLaren may have been annoyed at him. Maybe the media would paint him as a vengeful psycho on the next race weekend. He didn’t care.  He had you. He had this.

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[bluublu-blub]

yan! ex husband

yan! ex husband who just won't move on. It's been months since the two of you divorced and he still can't get his mind wrapped around the fact that you guys are not together anymore. It seems like everytime he turns, he sees you. He hallucinates a lot and tries to hug you but all he catches is air. 

yan! ex husband who will snap back to reality after realizing that he is alone in the house you both brought together. 

yan! ex husband who is slowly going insane. His memory is deteriorating bit by bit caused by stress, lack of sleep, and nonexistent eating habits. He does know you won't come back to him but he hopes so badly that you did.

yan! ex husband who doesn't remember when the divorce happened and the reason for your split. But he does know the reason why you left him. He just can't remember at all.

yan! ex husband who only remembers you crying a day before you filed divorce papers to him.

yan! ex husband who just stared blankly at you when you gave him the divorce papers, signing it and ignoring you. 

yan! ex husband who lets you go because he couldn't be bothered.

yan! ex husband who fucked up.

yan! ex husband who decided that living without you isn't a life he can live and decided to make sure you get back to him again. 

yan! ex husband who will do anything for you both to get back together. 

[sadburntbread]

BATFAM X NEGLECTED! MALE READER

----- Warnings before you read ----- Child Neglect, Bullying, Death, Violence, Slight swearing, Angst

"My child, my pride and joy" your mother's voice was soft and quiet, she touched the side of your cheek still chubby with baby fat "should there ever be a day when I am not here with you, then you must learn to care for yourself. You must never give your heart to those unworthy". Her words carrying the weight of years of personal experience. She was the wife of the Bruce Wayne, although it was because of an unwanted arranged marriage. her long hair framed her face as she sat in the bay window, overlooking the rain falling down on Gotham, the moonlight casting a soft glow on her face.

"Mama?" your confused face caused her eyes to soften, she picked you up and sat you in her lap. She casted a sad look at you and hugged you tightly.

"M/n, listen to me" Her voice turned stern, you nodded and focused your childish doe eyes on her "you are only eight my boy, you do not yet understand how cruel this world is.", She let out a sigh "I pity you; your father is a busy man, who never spares us the time of day. Your mother is weak in both will and heath. You only have Alfred to truly rely on". Tears were streaming from her eyes as she looked out the window, no longer being able to look you in the eyes. "I wish for you to break out of these chains that bind me. Live a life where you can smile freely. promise me that, m/n".

Over the next few years Bruce brought in many children. Dick was nice, he was cheerful but never had time for you, much like father. Jason was the best brother, you two always spent time together, however, one day he died. Tim... was ok... you were still grieving from Jason's death, and Tim never cared to look your way. Cas and Steph were just... there, Bruce was always training them, and they didn't think you were worth their time. After all, you were simply the spoiled young master Wayne. Lastly, Bruce, he never spent time with you other than at galas. When you went to the galas with your parents and adopted siblings, Bruce would treat you as his precious son. However, your mother could never look at the scene for long, knowing the true neglect that you didn't even know you were experiencing. Aside from that, life was fine. You still had your mother who loved you more than anything, and you had Alfred. Alfred thought of your mother as his own daughter and treated you as his grandson. You did good in school, always wanting to see your mother's smile when she saw your grades.

However, your whole life turned upside down the year you turned 12. Your mother died; her health had been deteriorating ever since you were born.

"Baby..." her voice was shaking, you held the had she reached out, watching as her dazed eyes couldn't find you. The only other person in the room was Alfred, " 'm sorry" Her voice broke into a sob "I'm so sorry for bringing you into this terrible place, please... Please forgive me". Her hand trembled in your grasp; tears streamed down your face.

"I could never blame you mom" you promised, at your words she smiled. With the last of her strength, she spoke again.

"Remember.... don't give... your heart to... these people". Her voice faded and her hand went limp in your hold.

"MOM!", you yelled "MOTHER PLEASE!" Alfred pulled you away from your mother, you cried in his shoulder. Your sobs echoed through the halls of the manor.

Your light was gone.

Her funeral was miserable. Bruce and your adopted siblings came, but only for appearances. As soon as the basic courtesies were over, they all left. You stayed there for the whole day and deep into the night, until Alfred made you get some rest.

After your mother's death, Bruce had you train like all your adopted siblings, it was grueling. He never taught you one-on-one, he had you watch him train the other then practice on your own. He always got so disappointed when you couldn't match pace with the others. However, you wanted to please them. Make them proud. "Foolish child" you could hear your mother say

It was around this time when Jason returned, you were so excited. finally, someone who you could spend time with, you were so lonely. But he was never the same boy you once knew, he was now cold and distant. He looked at you in annoyance... Just like the rest of them.

Days in the Wayne manor passed slowly, you followed your regular routine day by day. Wake up, got to school, go home, do schoolwork, do night watches, sleep and repeat. Things changed when father brought in your half-brother, Damian. Sure, at first you were upset that your father cheated on your mother, but now you had someone you could spend time with and relate to. You thought he would go through the same neglect, instead, he was loved, welcomed. Nothing like you.

"He's had a hard life", they'd say "you wouldn't understand, you've had everything handed to you and all the love you could want". It repeated in your head, all you did was ask why he got more love than you.

It wasn't fair... IT WASNT FAIR!

No... Calm down, take a deep breath. Hold it. Release it. Repeat.

Your mother taught you that when you'd start throwing fits, she was right. There was no use in getting upset over something you couldn't change... You'd just have to prove them wrong, be the best vigilante there ever was.

Damian was the worst. He thought of you as competition, you just wanted to be his friend.

"You know", Damian began, you had asked him to hang out, he was your younger brother after all, and you have to be a good brother like Jason used to be "It's your fault your pathetic mother died".

"...What" It wasn't a question. It was a dare, "Say that again. Do you have a death wish?" Now you were standing right in front of him, your frame towering over him. The empty living room became even more silent.

"I said", He didn't back down, instead, he stood tall "You caused your mother's death. I mean, think about it. If you hadn't been born than your mother wouldn't have fallen ill". you pushed him against the wall, pinning his shoulder with enough strength to break it, if he were a normal person. "Never mind, it wasn't your fault" Oh? was he back down? No... his smirk spread "it was your mother's fault for being so weak"

WHACK

you punched at his face; he moved but you still hit the side of his cheek, then he started punching back. it became a back and forth of fists. The two of you scuffling on the floor before a voice rang out.

"What the hell is going on here!?", you both looked over. It was dick, he was followed by the rest of your adopted siblings. Both of you let go of the other, your breathing ragged. You noticed Damian's breathing was steady, as if he hadn't just been fighting. Monster

'"He-" You tried to explain yourself, but Dick cut you off. He stormed up to you, his expression was furious, and he smacked you...hard. You stood shocked, your head turned to the side and your eyes wide in disbelief, you put your hand to your burning cheek.

"You are older than him! I don't care what excuse you have, you should know better!" Dick yelled, he grabbed you by your wrist and began pulling you. "We're going to see Bruce, you can explain yourself to him". Dick dragged you to Bruces's office, his grip was painfully tight. When you two stood Infront of the doors to his office you felt dread fill you. It wasn't your fault. It was Damian's. you repeated in your head. Dick pushed the doors open quickly, Bruce looked up at his arrival, waiting for an explanation. He always just ignored you; he'd say that he was too busy and to come back later. "He was fighting with Damian. The kid just started punching him." Dick explained. You froze as your father's disapproving eyes turned to you.

NO! that's not how it happened! You had to defend yourself, say something...ANYTHING. "He-he said mother was weak! That I was the reason she died!" You stuttered as you tried to explain. He'd understand, surly. However, your hopes were crushed when Bruce's expression didn't change, when it didn't soften in understanding.

"Dick, Leave us. I'll talk with him". Bruce instructed. Dick sent you a quick disappointed glare then left, the door closed with a slight slam. The office was quite before Bruce let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I understand that you were upset. However, that is no reason to hit your younger brother". His gaze turned to you, then back to the papers on his desk. "Aside from that, I've been meaning to talk to you".

Oh? He wants to talk to you? That has never happened before. You felt yourself getting excited, forgetting all about the scuffle with Damian.

"I have decided to make Damian the heir to the Wayne Enterprises". Bruce didn't even look at you. He never does.

"...What?" You couldn't stop the question from slipping out. No, you had to defend your position, Mother's position. Consequences be damned. "No, you can't! He is an affair child; I am supposed to take over the company!"

That was a mistake. Bruce glared at you, his piercing eyes shutting you up quickly. "Do not fight with me child. The decisions already been made. Now go get ready for your night watch". That was it. The conversation was over. When you walked to your room you passed by the living room full of your adopted siblings, all joking with each other. You watched them for a moment before made eye contact with Damian, then, he smirked.

After it became public that you were no longer going to take over Wayne Enterprises, people outside the manor stopped being kind to you. After all, you were no longer the heir to the company, why should they care about you?

That leads us a couple years in the future, to tonight, the night was hauntingly beautiful. On this night Batman and his crew of sidekicks were all out because the Joker had gotten a new toy. Some beasts with something akin to tendrils. You all had to split up, Cass and Steph, Dick and Jason, Tim and Damian. you were sent off on your own, like always. But it was fine, you were used to it. You had gotten stronger, both emotionally and physically.

but tonight was different, you couldn't handle it. you and Batman were in the same general area; however, you were both distracted with your own fights. Then a quiet voice could be heard, one that was not the joker's, you looked over and saw an elderly lady in the middle of the shopping district you were fighting in. A tendril flew at you before you could run to her, you blocked it and turned to the lady.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?", you yelled at her, she looked at you, a helpless look in her eyes. She was confused. "EVACUATE!" At your yelling, Batman looked over to you two, his eyes widened as he noticed the lady. Batman quickly finished off the beast he was fighting then turned to the lady, a tendril rushed towards her. Batman rushed to grab her first, it was close, but he successfully caught her and dropped her nearby safely.

However, the tendril turned and rushed towards you. Too fast for you to react, all you could do was yell. "DAD!" The first time you had said that in such a long time.

It was too late. The tendril pierced through your stomach.

It went quiet. You couldn't hear or see anything. Couldn't hear Batman's yell of your name, couldn't see him rushing to you. All you could see was the black tendril in your stomach. your vision got hazy, and you dropped.

You were caught, but you couldn't see who. It was terrifying, the cold you felt. Did mother feel the same way?

There was a voice... Who's? Their tone was begging. Was there anyone who cared enough to beg you to stay?

You were so, so tired... Then you saw her....

Mother

"DAD!!" Your voice cut through the air; Batman looked to you. His eyes widened at the sight of you being pierced through.

"M/N!!" Batman didn't even know he could sound so desperate. His son was going to die, just like Jason. He rushed to your side, pulling off his cape to wrap the wound. when the cape was tight enough, he grabbed you, carrying you to a distant building, one untouched by the enemy. He had to fight his way through the area, it was difficult with you in his arms, but he made sure you didn't get hurt any more than you already had. "Don't you die on me, m/n! I promise to treat you better. Don't leave me, not like your mother". He mumbled pleas as he carried you, and even more after he set you down. After he was sure you were still breathing (Although shallow and rough) Batman spoke into the communication device all of his children shared. "M/n is injured. Clear your area and hurry to [-----]. I have him resting safely in an abandoned building, we need to take him back to the manor, I'm not sure how much longer he'll last". It was less than a minute before multiple worried voices came though the mic, promising to be there soon. Batman pushed the hair from your sweaty face, "I won't let you die". With that he rushed back to the thick of the battle.

It was less than 20 minutes later when the rest of the Batfamily arrived, with them all working together they were able to take down the beasts and the joker relatively quickly. As soon as the battle was over Nightwing turned to Batman.

"Where is he!? Where is M/n?!" Nightwing's voice was rushed and out of breath from the fight, the others behind him listened closely for Batman's answer, they were all in a similar state as Nightwing. Batman pointed to an abandoned building, still untouched by conflict. No words needed to be spoken; they all took off in that direction. However, they paused as a laugh cut through the air, they all looked over to the source, it was the Joker. In a weak voice, Joker spoke.

"Boom" At his word many nearby buildings exploded, including the one batman set you in.

"NO!" Red Hood yelled, he felt terrible, he took his anger for Batman out on you, his baby brother. The same brother he swore to protect. They all took off, rushing to the building, holding onto hope that you somehow survived. The building you were set in was completely destroyed, but they all keep searching, they needed proof you were truly gone.

Damian paused his search, before quickly moving stones. His sudden hurry caused the others to all join him. they found something...

bits and pieces of batman's cape, then.... an arm... your arm...

You were gone, and they never had the chance to apologize, to spend movie nights with you, to take you out to eat, to celebrate your birthday.

It only took your death for them realize they failed you.

TO BE CONTINUED

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 00. A plan to live

inspired by @acid-ixx, @rizzanon and @nikovraskol (after this chapter I will no longer tag but do mention them as inspiration)

trigger warnings: yandere themes, medical neglect, neglect, abuse, chronic pain, hospitals, needles, cursing m.list series m.list

You never thought you were a good person, yet you would like to believe you still deserved better. You don't deserve the neglect of your family, you don't deserve to lie here in pain. Not after everything you already went through.

You shouldn’t have to worry about paying the next bill, not with your billionaire father. But then again, has he ever been a father or was he nothing but a sperm donor?

He has been nothing but an illusion in your life. Nothing but a pain that you could never shake. The reason your life has been painful, the reason you will always hate this city.

But you couldn’t blame him, not for this. Not when you never spoke up, not when you paid all the bills in cash, not when you even hid all the doctors appointments from Alfred. But then again, the fact he didn’t even notice says enough about your father. “We cannot find a source,” the newest specialist you had been sent to tells you, her stance tense and her eyes distant. She feels guilty. “sometimes pain is cannot be explained.”

“You think I’ll be wasting my time if I tried any more tests?” You whisper, squeezing the fabric of your sweater anxiously.

“Yes,” the doctor admits honestly, something you couldn’t help but appreciate. It was direct and harsh, yes, but you need this. You need to face reality, your pain isn’t going away in the near future. Tests will just get your hope up. “however, as soon as your pain changes in any way, I want to be notified.”

“Of course,” You say as you stand up, holding your hand out. “thank you for your time.”

Your life has always been miserable, perhaps bearable at first, but now you sometimes wonder if your birth was cursed. “Keep your head up, Mx. (last name),” the doctor tells you with a weak smile, shaking your hand gently. “you have your life ahead of you.”

“Oh, I know.”

You won’t find a source for your pain, but it is time to find a source of happiness. Of course, it’s easier said then done. But you already know the first step.

It’s time to get out of that god forsaken house and leave the Wayne family behind.

NEXT PART

[cowboybeepboop]

Perfection

 "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader 

Genre: smut

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: You’re Sergei’s closest (and only) friend, one night things become more than just friendly.

a/n: as always send any request you have my way! I’ll get to them asap 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the foliage above, you felt an eerie presence nearby. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught a flicker of movement among the trees. It was Sergei, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

You'd found him in this very forest when he had first left home, and now, years later, he remained a silent guardian. 

Sergei stood amidst the shadows of the forest, his form blending seamlessly with the surrounding foliage. His gaze lingered on you, studying your every detail. The familiar scent of the forest and your presence filled his senses, stirring a mix of nostalgia and concern within him.

"You've been here a while," he observed, his voice a low rumble. "Looking for something?"

"Just watching," you murmur, standing as he approaches your side. you brush your hands over your jeans, grinning as you look up at him. 

Sergei, towering above you, stands close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes study your every movement, taking in the way your hands brush over your jeans. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Watching, eh?" he remarks, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate through the forest around you. "Find anything interesting?"

"Not particularly, well at least not before you showed up," you observe his strong features in the sunlight, hands aching to touch him.

Sergei's smirk widens as he notices the way your eyes roam over his features, taking in the play of sunlight on his chiseled face. He can feel the subtle tension rising between you, a familiar pull that has always been there.

"Is that right?" he responds in a low, amused tone. "So, I'm more interesting than the scenery then?"

"But of course," you glance around, "the forest doesn't exactly talk back, does it?" 

Sergei's lips quirk into a crooked smile as he considers your retort. His eyes follow the movement of your gaze, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

"True, the forest is a silent spectator." he muses, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But I happen to be a little more engaging than a few trees and squirrels."

Then, his tone shifts slightly, a touch more commanding yet laced with an underlying softness. "You should join me for dinner. It's late, and I doubt you've eaten anything substantial."

"What's on the menu?" you grin, linking your arm with his as he begins to guide you to his home.

As you link your arm with his, Sergei lets out a chuckle at your question. It was never a struggle to get you to come along when food was involved.

"Nothing fancy, just a simple meal," he replies, his hand instinctively resting on top of yours as he guides you through the trail he and his family had made years before. "Some stew from a rabbit I caught earlier, fresh bread, and maybe a few berries if I can find any."

"Sounds perfect, Sergei." you lean your head against his shoulder, enjoying the heat that's radiating off of him. 

As your head rests on his shoulder, Sergei glances down at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. The familiarity of your touch and the way you lean into him stirs emotions within him. He'd always been protective of you, seeing you as someone he needed to keep safe.

He continues to guide you along the path, the sound of nocturnal creatures filling the night air. "You're quiet tonight," he notes, his voice gentle. "Everything alright?"

Your eyes widen as he catches on to your distracted mind, thoughts filled with the idea of being in his home and surrounded by his scent rather than making conversations. "Of course..." you murmur, "Just a little.. preoccupied." you grin up at him 

Sergei narrows his eyes slightly, a mix of concern and curiosity in his gaze. Your vague answer and the hint of a grin on your face pique his interest, making him even more curious.

"Preoccupied, hm?" he muses, a hint of humor in his voice. "With what exactly?" His arm tightens its hold on you, pulling you closer as if to physically keep you from drifting away in thought.

"That's a secret," you retort, eyes glued on the building ahead of the both of you, Sergei finally guiding you inside his home. 

Sergei's smirk only widens at your response, your words fueling the curiosity further. He watches the way your eyes dart towards his home, knowing exactly what you're thinking. With a slight chuckle, he leads you inside.

The interior is cozy and warm, lit by a few oil lamps that cast a soft, flickering glow over the room. The scent of woodsmoke and herbs fills the air. Sergei closes the door behind you, locking it securely.

"A secret, huh?" he muses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you've got me genuinely intrigued."

You take a seat on the couch, relaxing into the plush fabric. "I'll tell you after dinner, I'm too hungry to wait." you pull a blanket over your body, instantly making yourself at home in the familiar environment. 

Sergei watches as you settle into the couch, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Your ability to make yourself at home in his space doesn't go unnoticed, and he finds it almost endearing.

"Fair enough," he smirks, moving towards the small kitchenette area. "Dinner won't take too long. I promise I'll have you spilling your secrets soon enough." He grabs a few items from his cupboards and sets to work on preparing the meal.

"Take your time pretty boy," you murmur, eyes glued to his back as he moves around the kitchen.

Sergei's shoulders visibly tense for a moment as your voice drifts over to him, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. Your playful nickname causes a familiar heat to rise up within him, and he can feel your gaze on his back.

Without turning around, he responds in a low, teasing tone, "Careful, I might get used to the praise."

"Youre right, I cant inflate your ego too much." you giggle softly. He finally finishes the meal, bringing you a bowl of the stew.

Sergei carries the bowl of warm stew back to the living area, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he sets it down in front of you. He doesn't miss the way your eyes light up at the sight and smell of the food, and it only adds to his amusement.

"Here," he says, placing the bowl gently in your hands. "Be careful, it's still hot."

Once you have the bowl securely in your grasp, Sergei takes a step back, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He watches you closely, his gaze taking in every movement, as you bring the spoon to your lips and take a tentative taste of the stew.

"It's perfect Sergei, amazing." you hum in satisfaction, your eyes meeting his while you enjoy the meal he prepared.

Sergei's smirk blossoms into a satisfied smile as he watches you relish the meal. Hearing your genuine praise and seeing the contentment on your face brings a sense of satisfaction to him. 

"Glad you like it," he replies, leaning back a bit as he observes you. His smirk morphs into a wry grin, and he adds, "I promise I didn't poison it."

"Well of course not, you can't go poisoning your only friend." the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you finish your meals. Once you place the empty bowl on the coffee table you feel the intense stare boring into the side of your head, Sergei watching your every move.

As you set your empty bowl aside, you can feel Sergei's intense gaze on you. His eyes meticulously watch you, cataloging every movement, every flicker of emotion that passes across your face. Being the center of his unblinking attention is a sensation that never fails to awaken the butterflies in your stomach.

After a moment, he breaks the silence. His voice is low, with a hint of huskiness in his tone. "So... about that little secret you've been holding onto..."

"Well, I was thinking.. about asking you if I could stay here for the night." you turn to him, expression pleading. "Look I know it's a little inconvenient-" he interrupts you.

Before you can finish your statement, Sergei cuts you off. You sense a hint of surprise mixed with something else in his expression, but it's quickly concealed behind his usual smirk.

He crosses his arms over his chest, a slightly challenging look in his eyes. "Let me get this straight," he says, his voice taking on a dry edge. "You want to... crash here for the night, no explanation?"

"Well I was going to explain but you interrupted.." you murmur, voice soft as your gaze falls to your hands. "It's just I really like spending time with you.." 

Sergei's expression softens as he hears the note of disappointment in your voice. The hint of challenge in his eyes fades, replaced by a touch of guilt. He doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on your lowered hands.

After a moment, he sighs heavily, his voice holding a hint of resignation. "So, that's your big secret then? You just want more time with me?"

"Yes.." you whisper, silently cursing yourself for ever bringing it up. You always knew that your affections were one sided yet the confirmation of it hurts more than you were anticipating. 

Sergei's eyes are unreadable as he absorbs your words, his expression neutral. A moment of silence follows, the only sound in the room the soft crackle of the fireplace. His gaze is fixed on you, studying your expression and the subtle change in your demeanor.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, a hint of sympathy lacing his words. "Is that the only reason? You just... want to be around me more?"

"I like your company, you're comfortable, *familiar*." you carefully gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes. 

A muscle in Sergei's jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your big, pleading eyes meeting his. The sight stirs something within him, but he's not entirely sure what it is. 

After a moment, he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression a mix of resignation and something else. "Fine," he mutters, looking away. "You can stay here whenever. But only on one condition."

"Anything you want." you smile, moving closer to him, your eyes filled with excitement. 

Sergei notices the way you shift closer to him, the gleam of excitement in your eyes making it obvious how much you want to be close to him. He lets out a huff, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Anything, huh?" he muses, his voice a low rumble. "Careful, you're giving me free reign to make all sorts of demands now."

"You're free to make any demands, it is your house after all." you bring your hands to his knees, fingers gently digging into his clothed skin. "But what is your condition?"

As you place your hands on his knees and dig your fingers into his skin, Sergei can feel a slight shiver run down his spine. The mixture of surprise and a sudden flare of heat takes him momentarily off guard, and he has to force himself to focus on the conversation. 

He takes a moment to reply, eyes flickering down to your fingers before fixing on your face again. "My condition..."

He pauses, swallowing back a sharp reply and instead opting for a straightforward request. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then where will I sleep?" your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you move closer.

Your closeness causes Sergei's breath to hitch ever so slightly, his eyes roaming over your face as you approach. He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. 

"You can take my bed," he says bluntly, his gaze not wavering from yours. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No," you begin to protest, "can we share the bed? I don't want to steal it from you..."

Sergei blinks, clearly not expecting your response. The idea of sharing his bed with you had never occurred to him before, but now that you've suggested it, he can't deny the spark of heat it ignites within him.

He clears his throat, trying to maintain his cool composure. "You... want to share the bed?" he repeats, his voice a touch huskier than usual.

"Yes.." you grin sweetly, "I'd love to." Sergei can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as you grin sweetly up at him, your eagerness obvious. The thought of sharing his bed with you - of having you that close to him for an entire night - is suddenly far more appealing than he wants to admit. 

He swallows, trying to regain some sense of control. "Very well," he manages, his voice rough. "You can share the bed with me, then."

"Shall we head to bed then? It is getting a bit late.." you yawn quietly. 

With your yawn catching his attention, Sergei glances at the nearby clock. It was indeed getting late. The thought of sharing a bed with you is still on his mind, but he has to admit, he's also feeling rather tired.

"Right." he agrees huskily. He stands from the couch, offering you a hand to help you up. "Let's get some sleep then."

"Lead the way, handsome." you follow close behind as he guides you into his bedroom.

As you follow behind him, your light footsteps echoing quietly against the wooden floorboards, Sergei leads you into his simple yet cozy bedroom. The space is just big enough for a queen-size bed and a small dresser, but it's kept tidy and neat.

He steps aside to allow you to enter first, gesturing towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he murmurs, his eyes on you the entire time.

"Thank you, Sergei." you silently creep into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed before sliding out of your pants, folding and placing them on the nightstand. You're blissfully unaware of his tense gaze, watching as you pull your bra off from under your shirt, placing it off to the side. 

Sergei stands in the doorway, watching every one of your movements with unblinking intensity. His eyes seem to follow your every gesture like a hawk tracking its prey. Your casual actions - stripping off your pants and then your bra - are like a slow, torturous reveal to him. 

His jaw clenches, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggles to maintain his composure. He cannot deny the effect your presence in his space - in his *bed* \- is having on him.

With a final small stretch you slip beneath the covers, eyes wandering to look at him in the doorway. "Are you coming in?" you murmur, not wanting to steal his space from him.

Sergei's eyes remain glued to you as you slip beneath the covers, a mixture of desire and restraint clearly visible in his gaze. At your question, he snaps out of his trance, realizing he's just been standing there staring. 

He clears his throat slightly, steeling himself before slowly approaching the bed and pulling back the covers on the other side. "Yeah. I'm coming in." 

He slides into the bed beside you, trying to maintain a distance but finding himself drawn to your warmth.

"Good night Sergei.." you whisper in the silent and dark room, eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into the sheets. The sound of your soft voice whispering goodnight only serves to heighten his senses, the intimacy of the situation making it difficult for him to even breathe. 

"Good night," he mutters in response, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment longer before he turns his gaze to the ceiling. It's going to be a long night.

As the minutes tick by, Sergei finds himself unable to sleep. Your body is a mere arm's length away from him, causing the most primal part of his brain to struggle against the temptation to pull you flush against him. 

He tries to think of anything else - anything that could distract him from the overwhelming desire surging through him. Yet, no matter what he tries, his mind drifts back to you, lying so close but still just out of reach...

You shift in your sleep, soft incoherent murmurs slipping from your parted lips as you move closer to him, craving the heat of his body, the feel of his skin against yours. 

As you shift closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth in your sleep, it takes every ounce of Sergei's willpower not to react. He feels the heat of your body as you press up against him, your murmurs sounding like a soft siren's song to his lust-fogged brain. 

He grits his teeth, his muscles coiled tight as he struggles to resist the urge to pull you even closer. "Fuck..." he mutters under his breath, his heartbeat increasing with every inch that separates your bodies.

Your bare leg wraps around his thigh as you pull yourself flush against him, your cheek pressing into his chest. You stir slightly, eyes fluttering open and blinking slowly. 

You place your hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his abs as you turn your head to look at him. Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you make eye contact with him, "Is everything alright?" 

As you stir and awaken, the innocent brush of your fingers against his chest sets his nerve endings ablaze. His skin tingles wherever you touch, the feel of your bare leg wrapped around his sending a jolt of heat through him. 

He meets your gaze, his own eyes dark with poorly concealed desire. "It's... fine," he manages to rasp out, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to your touch. "Just... can't sleep, that's all."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" your eyes lock with his, full of sleepy affection.

Your sleepy gaze, full of warmth and affection, only makes Sergei's self-control slip further. He swallows roughly, his hand itching to reach out and touch you, to pull you even closer to him. 

"I... I don't... know..." he whispers hoarsely. His gaze drifts down to your parted lips, the temptation to lean in and claim them nearly overpowering. "You're making this very... *difficult* for me, you know." Your eyes widen as you realize his implication, your body tensing slightly. 

Sergei can feel the tension in your body as you realize the meaning behind his words. He curses himself silently, hating the way your slight recoil makes him feel. 

He loosens his grip on your hip, shifting to create a small gap between your bodies, his voice dropping to a more soothing tone. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... your presence here, in my bed... it's stirring up some unexpected... *desires*."

"Do you.. desire me?" your voice is a breathless whisper as you scan his features, your heart pounding rapidly inside you.

Your quiet question hangs in the air, and Sergei finds himself hesitating for a moment, the weight of his answer almost too much to bear. His gaze fixates on you, unflinching, as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your hip. 

"Yes," he finally responds, his voice a rough, low rumble. "I do. More than you could possibly understand."

You take a shakey deep breath, gathering the confidence to make a move on this gentle giant. You slide the blankets off of your bodies, moving to straddle his hips, your eyes full of desire as you gaze down at him. 

Sergei's eyes widen slightly as you remove the blankets and boldly straddle his hips, your unexpected move taking him off guard. The sight of you looming over him, your eyes full of desire, sends a sharp thrill of heat through his body and straight to his core. 

His hands fly to your hips, gripping them with a possessive force. "What are you doing...?" he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with restrained desire.

"Sergei.. I want you." you press your palms to his chest, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his. 

As you begin to rock your hips against his, Sergei feels a growl rumble in his chest, his fingers digging further into the flesh of your hips. The pressure builds between your bodies, the friction of your movements driving him wild. 

He grabs your wrists, pinning them down on his chest as he looks up at you, his eyes full of a primal need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he hisses, his voice barely recognizable.

You continue to grind against him, soft unintelligible noises falling from your lips as you get lost in the feeling of his hardness pressed into your cunt.

With each movement of your hips, Sergei's control unravels further. The feel of your body, grinding against his hardness, sends a surge of raw need through him. He groans loudly, his grasp on your wrists tightening as he fights to maintain some semblance of restraint. 

"Fuck... You... You're going to drive me insane," he mutters, his voice rough and hoarse. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"

Sergei's eyes flare with a wild, almost desperate hunger as he watches you, his restrained power a stark contrast to your unbridled passion. He releases your wrists, allowing his hands to glide up your arms, feeling the softness of your skin against his calloused fingers. "If we do this..." he warns, his voice strained with need. "There's no going back." His words hang in the air, a silent question and a promise wrapped in one.

"I know..  know but I need you, Sergei please." you whine, lost in the intoxication of his body against yours. 

Sergei's eyes darken further, the raw desire in them unmistakable. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment, it seems like he's fighting an internal battle. Then, with a low growl, he surrenders to the need, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. 

He leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss that steals your breath away, his tongue demanding entry as your bodies become one in a tangle of heat and passion. The bed beneath you creaks as he rolls you over, his strong arms holding you firmly in place as his hips surge up to meet yours. 

Breaking the kiss, Sergei's eyes never leaving yours, he reaches down to tug at the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, he pulls it over his head, revealing the defined planes of his chest and abs, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. 

His gaze is intense as he watches you, his movements deliberate as he undoes the button of his pants and slides them down, his erection springing free. Without breaking eye contact, his hands move to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt and lifting it up over your head. 

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose your bare skin to the cool night air. The anticipation is palpable, his eyes never leaving yours as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down further, exposing your wet, eager cunt. 

He groans low in his throat, the sight of your nakedness driving him closer to the edge. With one swift move, he rids himself of his own underwear, his cock bobbing heavily with desire. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers sliding through your slickness before he lines himself up, his tip brushing against your entrance. 

"Ready?" he asks, his voice a harsh whisper, his eyes burning with need. At your nod, he pushes into you with a slow, agonizingly sweet motion, filling you completely as he buries himself to the hilt.

You nod, unable to find words as his cock slides into you with an agonizing slowness that makes you quiver with anticipation. Your eyes never leave his as he continues to fill you completely, stretching and claiming every inch of your body with a passionate dominance that sends shivers down your spine. 

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, his powerful strokes setting a rhythm that echoes through the quiet night. Each thrust is punctuated by a guttural groan, his eyes never leaving yours as you both get lost in the moment. 

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, mingling with the faint aroma of the stew from dinner. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the coolness of the sheets, creating a delicious friction that sends sparks of pleasure dancing across your skin. 

As he moves within you, Sergei's eyes burn with an intensity that you've never seen before, and you can't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you are exactly where you're meant to be. His every touch, every kiss feels like coming home, and for the first time in a long time, you feel truly alive and desired.

With each powerful thrust, Sergei's control frays further, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. His hands grip your hips, guiding your body to meet his with a perfect rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

You moan his name, your nails digging into his back as your body arches off the bed, begging for more. The room is a symphony of your muffled cries and his feral grunts, the sound of flesh slapping together in an intimate dance. Your eyes are locked in a silent conversation of passion, the fire in his gaze igniting a fierce need within you. 

You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him as the pressure builds. "Sergei, I'm... I'm going to cum," you gasp out, your body trembling. 

He responds with a low growl, his strokes becoming faster, deeper, pushing you over the precipice until you shatter in his arms, your climax ripping through you like lightning in a summer storm. He follows close behind, his own release a powerful wave that crashes over both of you, leaving you breathless and spent, your bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets.

He falls to the bed next to you, satisfaction filling his body as you cuddle into his warmth. As you both lay there, the night's passion still lingering in the air, Sergei's thoughts whirl with conflicting emotions. 

He can feel your gentle breath against his chest, the weight of your body against his own, and a sudden realization hits him like a punch in the gut. He can no longer deny the depth of what he feels for you. 

The way he had just made love to you - as passionately, hungrily, almost desperately as he had - betrayed his true feelings. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as he tries to make sense of his thoughts.

"Sergei," you breathe out his name, your eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into him. 

As you breathe out his name, Sergei's arms tighten around you instinctively. He feels a sudden wave of protectiveness wash over him, a fierce need to keep you safe and loved. 

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Yes, my darling?" he mutters into the darkness, his voice thick with an emotion he doesn't dare name.

"That.. that was good," you murmur sleepily, body slowly relaxing.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he listens to your sleepy murmur. He can hear the contented exhaustion in your voice, the way your body is melting into his embrace. "Good, huh?" he replies, his tone soft and faintly teasing. "Just good?"

"Perfect." you correct yourself, causing a satisfied and cocky smirk to rest on his lips. 

A cocky smirk forms on Sergei's lips as you correct yourself, his ego swelling at your praise. "Perfect, hm?" he repeats, his voice laced with self-satisfaction. 

He leans down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

[njghtiee]

toddler sibiling ft. jason todd

a/n: aaa i loved to write these because both my boys would be the best brothers ever, thanks for the request!! dick version

! “Not my problem.”

When Bruce first brings the boy home, Jason pretends not to care. He shrugs, says, “Great, another mouth to feed. Just what this place needed.” But the second the kid waddles over and grabs his finger, Jason’s hooked. He’ll deny it until death.

! Unintentional favorite

The toddler clings to Jason the most, which Jason pretends to hate but secretly eats up. He growls, “Go bug Dick, I’m busy” while already lifting the kid onto his hip.

! Swearing sponge

Jason forgets toddlers repeat everything. The boy learns “damn” and “ass” within a week. Bruce is livid. Jason argues, “He’s gotta learn sometime”

! Food sharing

Jason feeds the kid french fries, pizza crusts, and spoonfuls of ice cream straight from the carton. Alfred scolds him constantly, but Jason insists, “He’s gotta be a man someday.”

! Nap buddy

Jason will pass out on the couch, kid curled up on his chest. He always wakes up acting like it’s no big deal, but if anyone takes a picture he threatens murder.

! Mini biker

He buys the toddler a tiny plastic tricycle and calls it his “starter bike.” Jason swears he’ll buy him a real one the second he’s big enough.

! The boy calls him “Jay-Jay,” which Jason pretends to hate but secretly loves. (If anyone else calls him that, they’re dead)

! Jason doesn’t trust Gotham with a child. He’s the one who insists the boy never leaves the Manor without protection. “Bruce, I’m not letting him end up like me.”

! When the toddler cries, Jason drops everything. He’s the first to scoop him up, muttering curses at whatever made him upset. He’ll rock him and sing low under his breath (something from the radio, not a lullaby) until he calms down.

! Jason insists the boy “likes him more” than Dick. It becomes an actual competition. (The boy really just loves whoever has food)

! Jason accuses Tim of being the “boring older brother.” He makes a point of teaching the toddler pranks to pull on Tim.

! Jason calls the toddler “the replacement for the replacement.” Damian fumes. The boy giggles because he doesn’t understand, which makes Jason laugh harder.

! Jason growls that Bruce is too strict, then turns around and teaches the boy how to throw a punch. Bruce: “He’s two.” Jason: “Exactly. Start young.”

! Jason once caught him chewing on one of his guns’ holsters. He panicked, swore off keeping weapons near the kid, and never told anyone how badly it shook him.

! If the boy ever calls him “big brother” first before anyone else, Jason goes quiet for the rest of the day, trying to hide how much it got to him.

! If the toddler is a girl, Jason will sit through a tea party in full leather jacket and boots, pink plastic tiara on his head. He’ll grumble the entire time, but he makes all the voices for her stuffed animals.

! He tries to braid her hair once. It ends in knots, a meltdown, and Jason swearing he’ll “burn every brush in this damn house.” (Cass later teaches him properly, and he pretends he “just figured it out.”)

! He buys the toddler a tiny plastic tricycle and calls it his “starter bike.” Jason swears he’ll buy him a real one the second he’s big enough.

! If she’s running around roughhousing with Dick or Damian, Jason’s the one hovering, muttering, “Watch her head. Don’t drop her. I swear, if she cries, I’m killing someone.”

! Calls her “peanut,” “princess,” or “kiddo.” If anyone else calls her “princess,” he growls, “Not from you.”

! She reminds him of the kid he never got to be—safe, loved, cared for. Sometimes when she curls up and falls asleep on him, he just stares at her and thinks, “You’re never gonna go through what I did.”

! Damian insists she’ll be his protégé. Jason loses it. “Over my dead body, demon spawn. She’s not touching a sword until she’s thirty.”

! She waddles around in his leather jacket, dragging it like a cape. Jason takes one look and says, “That’s it. I’m buying her her own.” He does. A custom baby-sized leather jacket.

! She once grabbed his helmet and managed to put it on. It wobbled over her entire head, and Jason freaked out, ripped it off, and muttered for an hour about “never again”

! The boy follows Jason around the Manor constantly, dragging a toy car or stuffed bat. Jason grumbles, “I’m not your babysitter” but slows down so the kid can keep up.

! The bike obsession: Jason puts him on his motorcycle while it’s off, letting him “drive.” The boy thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. Jason smirks, “First lesson’s free, squirt”

! If the boy wakes up scared, Jason just lets him crash in his bed, muttering, “Fine, but no drool” By morning, Jason’s arm is around him, totally unconscious.

! He’s the brother who glares at everyone when she’s around. Random stranger says “Hi” to her at the park? Jason’s already planning their funeral.

! He reads her poetry or gritty novels out loud, but edits it on the fly into goofy kid versions. “And then the vigilante shot the—uh, bubblegum cannon, yeah.”

! Jason takes her for stroller “races” down the Manor halls. He gets yelled at for it, but she squeals with laughter, so it’s worth it.

! He tries to put clips in her hair, ends up stabbing himself with a bobby pin, curses loudly, and she repeats it perfectly. Alfred is not amused.

! Jason teases them constantly. He’ll call them “short stack” or “ankle-biter.” But the second anyone else makes fun of them? Jason’s fury is biblical.

! He keeps little drawings they make for him folded in his jacket pocket, pretending he doesn’t care. In reality, he would die before throwing one away.

! Jason has this unspoken oath—he will never let them feel the same kind of abandonment or pain he did. No matter how messy his own life gets, he shows up for them every time.

[dreamauri]

If reqs are open we get some more Oscar one shots?? just binged them all lmao 🙏🏻🙏🏻

♪ — 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗞 oscar piastri x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . Oscar Piastri might seem like a stoic Kimi R reincarnation but really, he's a sweetheart who carries you so you don't sand in your shoes (549 words)

( main naster list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

The sky is painted in soft shades of pink and orange, the kind of sunset that makes everything feel a little bit dreamlike. The waves roll onto the shore in a lazy rhythm, brushing against the sand with a whisper. It’s the kind of evening that begs for long walks and quiet confessions, but instead, you find yourself cradled in Oscar’s arms, held securely against his chest.

“You know, I could walk,” you point out, but you make no effort to move.

Oscar glances down at you, his expression neutral but his grip tightening just the slightest bit. “You didn’t want sand in your shoes.”

You huff, both amused and endeared. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I didn’t think you’d actually carry me the whole time.”

He shrugs, adjusting his hold effortlessly. “Not a big deal.”

But it is, in the way that matters. In the way he does things for you without a second thought, never making a fuss about it. You rest your head against his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of salt and sunscreen clinging to his skin. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing is as steady as the waves.

Eventually, he slows to a stop, setting you down carefully on a patch of sand untouched by the tide. His hands linger for a fraction of a second before he lets go. “Better?”

You nod, slipping off your shoes and wiggling your toes into the cool, damp sand. “Much.”

He watches you for a moment, his lips barely twitching in what might be the ghost of a smile, then extends his hand. You take it without hesitation, fingers fitting perfectly between his as you step toward the water’s edge.

The tide kisses your ankles, cool and refreshing. You hum in contentment, swinging your intertwined hands slightly as you start talking—about anything and everything. About how the sunset reminds you of a painting you once saw, about the funniest thing that happened at work last week, about how you read somewhere that seagulls mate for life and isn’t that kind of sweet?

Oscar doesn’t say much, but he listens. He always listens. His thumb moves idly over the back of your hand, grounding you in the moment. Every now and then, he hums in acknowledgment or squeezes your fingers lightly, little signs that he’s with you, that he’s absorbing every word.

After a while, you stop, tilting your head up to look at him. The golden light of the sunset softens his features, his brown eyes reflecting the sky’s fading hues. “You’re quiet.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I usually am.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “Yeah, but…what are you thinking about?”

He’s silent for a beat, then, with that same quiet certainty that defines him, he says, “You talk a lot.”

You open your mouth, ready to protest, but he beats you to it, his fingers tightening around yours. “I like it.”

The words are simple, but they settle warm in your chest, spreading through you like the tide coming in. You smile, squeezing his hand in return. “Good. Because I’m not stopping.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

And so you keep talking, and he keeps listening, walking side by side as the ocean sways in time with your laughter.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Fall of an Empire

Summary: The fall of an empire began because of the love for a woman.

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader (romantic), Emperor Caracalla x Reader (platonic)

A/N: I will be honest, wish I had written this as soon as I left theaters but it's as good as I could make it. 😅

Warning: Major character deaths and some movie spoilers if you haven't seen it yet

Divider credits @saradika

It was never meant for her.

To most onlookers, it became quite obvious that should anything ever happen to the empress, that it would not take long for the twin emperors to descend into madness. The two had a penchant for violence, one that was difficult for them to be ever satisfied and somehow it came to be that Geta, was consumed by the love and affection he held for his wife from the moment their eyes met on the day they were wed.

While Caracalla viewed her with a brotherly love, calling her sister the day they met and appreciating her all the more when she gifted him with his prized monkey Dondas. Her gentle but firm hand was quick to soften the temper of the brothers, there was still a madness that brewed beneath the surface and all knew, it would all turn to ruin should anything befall the young empress.

She shouldn't have been there that day.

Still in the early months, the empress' pregnancy was an open secret amongst everyone in the senate and many were cautious to incur the wrath of their emperors as their protectiveness seemed to reach even greater heights than was the norm. Her recent symptoms had her spending much more time in the royal couples chambers, hiding away to let the nauseousness abate. The same symptom that had kept her from being by the side of her husband and brother by law during the first initial days of games in the colosseum meant to celebrate the conquest of Numidia.

The fateful day had begun like most in its mundanity for the young Emperor Geta and his lovely wife (Y/N), both rousing slowly with the rise of Helios in the sky with their legs tangled together and in a tender warm embrace as they had slept. Geta was careful to cradle his wife in his arms, his hands languidly caressing her small bump that had only recently begun to show in recent weeks.

"How is the little one treating you this morning, beloved?" Geta whispered between soft kisses to her neck.

Stretching tiredly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, "Much better than usual. I think the concoction made by the healer has finally had an effect because I actual feel like joining you and Caracalla today."

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. "There's no need for you to join us if you aren't feeling up to the task. I can come up with another excuse if needed."

"Stop fussing, my love" she giggled. "I truly feel leagues better and the gladiators will be fighting by water today, do you think I would want to miss such a feat?"

His brow creased in uncertainty. He knew that if his wife was truly not up to the task of being by his side that she would make it known. But there was an uneasiness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

He gently untangled himself from their loving embrace, quickly dressing himself in a robe and took strides to the jeweled chest atop of her vanity, clutching the box to his chest and returning to her side. Carefully, Geta helped his wife put on her jewelry and pressing a kiss to her hands or lips for every adornment that he placed on her.

"Your well being is my top priority," he said kneeled by her side. "The moment that you feel anything amiss, we leave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my love" she conceded with a smile.

Geta wasn't given a chance to say anything more as the doors to their chambers were pushed open by none other than Caracalla. The younger brother giggling in amusement when he stepped in.

"Lovely morrow for a bit of violence and blood, wouldn't you say brother? Will my radiant sister join us at last or has your little parasite incapacitated her once more?"

"I will be with both of you, little brother" (Y/N) said gently. "And please refrain from calling your niece or nephew a parasite, you wouldn't want to upset them before they have even arrived."

Caracalla waved her off and smiled, "The little parasite can complain when they're older. Until then, I can call them whatever I like because they seem to enjoy making you suffer." He leaned down and spoke to the small bump, "You'll be an absolute menace, isn't that right little parasite?"

Geta huffed out in mild annoyance and began to push his brother out of the room, "You can make more complaints about my progeny later. My wife and I are still not dressed."

"Oh, I don't mind staying."

"We will see you in the colosseum brother," Geta said with a shove and closing the doors. When they were shut, he turned back to his wife. "Let us make haste then before he tries to come bother again."

It was chaos below in the arena, the barbarian Hanno had led his group of men into ramming their boat against the opposing side and there was so much to see that it all became difficult to track. Smoke from the flames burning the boat made the task near impossible, but it didn't stop the adrenaline from coursing the veins of the young emperors from the glimpses they could see.

"My love," the empress called to her husband in worry. "They're too close, it's too close. We must leave or take caution, the men and boats are too close."

"Don't make such a fuss, sister" Caracalla said but his gaze stayed on the carnage below. "Things are getting interesting."

Below their sight, Hanno had a crossbow in his hands with the clear intent of killing the General Acacius. The aforementioned man had no chance to warn his empress that was seated in front of him of the gladiators intentions.

It all happened so fast.

It was an accident.

The crossbow was jostled in Hanno's hands as the arrow was let loose and it struck dead center between the two emperors.

And into the empress' chest.

The two men screamed in horror, unused to the violence being so close and it having any true impact to them. Caracalla was hysterical as guards pulled him away; screeching, hitting, and calling for something to be done for his sister. While Geta was enraged as he tried to temper his emotions and pushing the guards aside.

"Everything will be alright, wife" Geta said as he held his wife's hand in his own that trembled. "We will bring the healer and then find the gladiator that is to be dealt with!"

The empress could not respond, choking on her blood as she tried to reach for her husbands face before her final breath left her body.

When she went limp in his grasp, there was no halting the enraged wail from Geta as he lost his beloved bride and unborn child in a single moment.

Nothing could stop the spiral of destruction that followed the demise of the empress.

It was General Acacius' fault as the arrow was meant for him.

It was Lucillas fault for birthing the bastard that did it.

It was their fault

It was THEIR fault

It was Geta's fault.

Or so Caracalla's mind was led to believe as he and his brother sought refuge away from the hordes of people that sought to remove them from their seats of power.

His beloved sister (Y/N) and her little parasite were gone because Geta had failed to protect them.

Dondas and he would soon follow if Geta was permitted to reign alongside him any longer.

With every slash, the voices calmed in Caracalla's mind, and it soothed him to see the same rivers of blood flow down his brother's chest just as he had seen happen to his lovely sister.

Geta although unwilling, was to be reunited with his wife and child.

Caracalla would join them soon enough.

[ghostedbunnie]

there's something empowering in holding the razor to simon's throat when shaving his face for him. it's peak intimacy for someone like him who doesn't trust easy.

but to you he is like a well adjusted cat, purring with his eyes closed while showing his belly. his most vulnerable parts.

it warms your heart and you need to show it so you take the razor away from his throat for a second to drop a barely there kiss on his freshly shaved cheek. simon only reacts with satisfied hum and cracking one eye open.

"what was that for?" he asks.

"just felt like it." you shrug not wanting to be all sappy.

[shortnsweetsposts]

Jason: Cooking together is NOT romantic, MOVE the fuck out of my way.

Reader: I'm tempted to stand in your way while you cook now.

Jason: I'll boil you next.

Reader: When he's a cannibal 😍🥰💖