#grouchy tim

[mamawasatesttube]

it's just so. tim and kon have so much going for them in the comics - tim taped wendy while kon was in hypertime, their whole fight on apokolips, batman claiming that tim "speaks highly" of kon, kon having the batcave landline in his contact book not long after he first met tim, robin!kon, the "your voice drops an octave when you get all commander-like" line and the Everything before it, the winick closet moment, they were his colors, and so much more. they have such a rich history and relationship across so many comics!! they genuinely have so much going for them!!!!

and then you try to look at the tag on ao3 or tumblr and it's just full of homophobic stereotypes, shovel talks, and the same 2.5 tired jokes about tim/ber or clone babies, maybe with a bit of clark bashing thrown in for flavor, because no one making these posts has fucking read the comics and they don't even know where the ship came from, but god forbid they get out of the comics tags. jesus fucking wept.

[banditafterdark]

the demons overtook me and its almost 1am but happy wet man wednesday featuring a 120lbs when soaking wet old man

[arrowlantern]

tiktok fyp is fyp’ing cause i just got a tim drake vaping video. they know me they know what i stand for 😭

[roseandgold137]

Tim: I can’t wait for peace and quiet -

the random guy in the airport that’s about the trap him in a one sided conversation: dude that’s so crazy me too

Tim:

the guy:

Tim:

they guy: anyways here’s my life story

[mixingandmelting]

Cute Aggression

Summary: when he's jealous but gets the cute aggression because you're suddenly being cute

Dick:

He blankly stares at the wall across from him.

The plan was for him to full out sulk. Mope and stay grumpy in bed to make a point that your very attention-needy boyfriend was deprived of your attention because you were giving it to someone else. Typically, you would get exasperated, probe what’s wrong, and then he would have it his way in getting completely spoiled by you to make it up to him.

This time, though, you crawled under the blankets, poked your head from underneath and in front of his face, and pecked his cheek.

“…Are you still mad at me?” You shyly looked up at him with fusty cheeks. He simply blinks.

“So. Damn. Cute.” He grits out under his breath, ignoring your muffled outraged cries as he squeezes your blanket covered form. 

Just remembering what had happened and led to him rolling you up head to toe in the blanket makes him want to squish you for the rest of night. Yell to the world you’re the cutest being in the universe. 

“I can’t breathe , Dick!” Or that’s what he thinks you say when you start patting him on his chest (more like your feeble attempts to smack him if not for your arms restricted by fabric).. 

“No.” Throwing a leg over yours, he decides holding you like this will be how he gets back at you for making him jealous while making him have cute aggression. 

Jason:

There’s not a single drop of shame in him, waddling out the bar with you literally inside his jacket as he glared at anyone who gave you both an odd look.

You were his and he was yours. Nothing hard or complicated, right? Wrong. It seems like there are some people who can’t get a hint. And as much as he loves you, there are times you don’t realize you’re getting hit on. This time, right in front of him.

At first, he was outright brooding. Slouching in his seat next to you and close to shattering the glass in his hand with his grip. 

“Jason… You okay?” Head slightly tilted, eyes wide probably from worry and confusion about his sudden bad mood. Both of your hands on his arm and gently squeezing it.

It’s the alcohol talking when the urge to break a table or punch the wall next to him returns. You were so adorable. Absolutely adorable. 

There was nowhere to hide you in case someone decided to snatch you for your cuteness other than the space between the bar and his legs and he wasn’t about to have you sit on the floor. So in his jacket you go, doing the job of giving the sign you’re quite literally taken. 

“Jason, I’m too warm…” 

“Too bad.” He zips up his jacket. 

He’s not taking any chances of letting anyone else notice you’re too cute for your own good. 

Tim: 

Everyone says out of the two of you, you’re the clingy one. Not once suspecting it was him as he clings on you from behind like a koala.

Him being grouchy had nothing to do with the statement you made coming back from a gala. So what if he’s smaller than the average male? He’s always been a brains-over-brawn guy anyways. that’s why he wasn’t bothered by your passing comment about some tall guy’s height from the gala the two of you had attended whatsoever. 

It was also NOT the reason for his lips and cheeks to puff out as he cleared another level in his Freakazoid game on the couch, ignoring the shuffling next to him or acknowledging you sitting next to him. 

“Tim…? I love you…” A few minutes into the level you said that, Your voice soft and gentle as you leaned forward to try and make eye contact with him.  

He nearly broke the controller in his hands and, instead, ended up covering his face with them out of self restraint. The very self restraint that breaks when you repeat it thinking he didn’t hear you which led him to pull you into his lap and start hugging the life out of you.

“Why are you so cute?” He grumbles into your shoulder, his grip around your waist tightening.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

Nope, you don’t get to know. He doesn’t need you thinking he’s moody over something petty and teasing him for it. 

Duke: 

He sits next to you on the bench quietly, face completely flushed for one to many reasons. 

It started with him being in a mood, kicking a pebble that happened to be near his foot while keeping his head low. He knows that the person you won’t stop talking about is just a friend but still, a part of him wonders if you talk about him as much as you talk about your friend with others. 

And really, he’s aware he’s not good at hiding his emotions. Legit, he’s frank about pretty much anything and never thought much about needing to keep his thoughts to himself. Meaning, he knew and felt guilty that you’d pick up on it. Just not in the way you decided to approach. 

“But Duke, you’re still my number one.” In the midst of you talking about the other, you suddenly wrapped your arms around one of his with a smile brighter than the sun. 

On the spot, he lit up. Literally, like a light bulb, your words being the switch for his powers to turn on. Embarrassment doesn’t even cover how he felt, all of a sudden glowing in the middle of sidewalk from being caught off guard how cute you were being. 

“…Well, that’s one way of saying you lightened up.” He gives you a half-hearted glare, not at all amused by your pun but unable to make fuss as your eyes twinkle so prettily. 

Damian:

One hand gripping yours, anyone who glances at you he hisses and glares at. 

The last thing he needs is for anyone else to get the wrong idea that he and you are “just friends” like that one guy earlier, who wouldn’t stop talking to you. And this was despite you pushing the word BOYfriend without a space in between while other twists it as “BOY friend”.

Since then, he’s been extra snarky, snipping, and laying the sarcasm thick. Clicking his tongue nonstop whenever he remembers the whole thing. 

He even decided to get back at the other, give a surprise visit tonight (all behind your back of course; he doesn’t need another session of nagging by you or his family) while continue being, what you consider as, “annoying” as his way of telling you to give all your attention to him for one whole week. Well, almost. 

“Can’t believe he won’t accept it when you’re my boyfriend. Right, Damian?” Fingers tangling with his, you flopped your head onto his shoulder  while looking up at him with a pout. 

It was at that moment he realized what “cute aggression” meant, his face burning and clenching his fists to stop himself from punching the tree next to the two of you. 

“Damian, you can let go now-” He ends up stopping you by giving your hand an extra squeeze, the temperature in his cheeks now a degree higher as he’s unable to find it in himself to vocalize he didn’t want to.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Old Friends

Dick rings the doorbell.

Tim has no idea why they are here. The house his brother is trying to invite himself in looks nice, almost eerily so: walls painted in warm beige, windows so clean they sparkle, a perfectly manicured lawn, and flower beds and bushes without a single bad leaf, neatly cut and shaped to the point where they look like a Pinterest picture. The whole place looks like a photoshopped flyer of American Dream.

Which is exactly why it sets Tim on edge. No one can live their life so perfect.

Maybe it's just his broken arm and concussed head speaking, though. The throbbing pain tends to make him grouchy and distrustful.

Another minute passes in silence.

Dick raises his hand once more, but, just as he is about to press the doorbell again, the door opens. A tall, thin redhead girl with bright freckles sprinkled over her cheeks peeks out, a nice, if slightly awkward smile on her face. Only, as soon as she sees Dick, the smile drops like it was never there, and the girl starts closing the door back, evidently intent on slamming it in their faces.

Dick hastily puts his foot in, preventing it from closing.

"Hey, Jasmine, really sorry to bother-"

"Go to fucking hell," the redhead spits out, looking like she is two seconds away from violence. Tim must say, that reaction actually makes him feel a bit better about the whole situation. Turns out, not everything is picture perfect here, what a relief.

"Who's there?" Comes a voice from somewhere inside the house. Male, from the sound of it, so, maybe a husband?

"No one!" Jasmine yells back, an annoyed hint to her tone.

"Jasmine, please," Dick pleads, not taking his eyes off the girl.

"'No one' like you need the gun, or 'no one' like you need the thermos?" A different, younger voice asks, followed by a loud snort and a bark of a dog.

"My brother is hurt," Dick adds, like it's his last resort of an argument, and Tim huffs, barely holding himself back from elbowing the man in his side. And who's fault is that?..

Yet, that makes the redhead pause. She purses her lips, briefly looks at Tim and the way he's cradling his arm. Then, she sighs, long and exasperated, and lets go of the door, allowing it to open all the way.

"'No one' like I need the medkit," she finally answers to whoever is inside the house, and steps to the side, gesturing for both Dick and Tim to come in. "Comicon alert, everyone, plant your feet on the floor!"

[lazycats-stuff]

How about Batfam x male reader, where reader is Russian and has a slight accent, unless someone really pissed him off, that's when it really shows. Reader is always eloquent and kind, and you don't notice his accent unless you are really paying attention to the way he says certain words, but after a few galas where a fat businessman keeps insulting him somehow, and Damian or Jason are trying to defend Reader, but Reader just tells them no. When the fat businessman insults his brothers, Reader finally snaps and just goes full blown Michael Blackson Teacher style roast on him and his entire family in front of everyone, even his Russian accent comes out (I just think it would be funnier with the accent). After the gala is done, Bruce tries to scold the reader, but everyone is constantly trying to contain their laughter except Jason, as Reader finally snapping is the funniest thing that ever happened at a gala. Even Alfred can't bring himself to scold Reader for what he has done because he was there.

I know you are probably busy, so whenever you have the time for this one-shot. Thank you.

Oh hell yeah. Also, I couldn't find a GIF. I'm sorry...

Summary: (Y/N) is Russian and takes no disrespect.

Warnings: fat shaming? Only when (Y/N) was insulted.

Bruce would say that all of his children are nice, but (Y/N) is an exception to a certain degree. He is nice, eloquent, kind and loves to help others. He's Russian, can speak Russian fluently and his accent is rather hidden. You can hear it come out in certain words, but other than that, it is rather hidden. And Bruce loves to listen to it. Especially when he is frustrated about something, or simply can't remember a word in English.

That's when the Russian actually comes out. Of course everyone will revert to their native language when frustrated, mad and everything else. It was something that was rather endearing. Cute even. Just some grumbling underneath his breath about something in Russian. (Y/N)'s brothers found it cute. And they started to pick up a few phrases of their own.

But not curse words, because Alfred doesn't want to hear any cursing in the manor. None. Not in English, Russian, Arabic or any other language. It doesn't matter if it's a dead language or a live one, because Alfred is going to lay down the law.

Even now, while there was a gala going on in the Manor, Bruce watched his sons carefully. Jason was evading it with everything in him, Tim was getting some food, Damian was his usual grouchy self, Dick was conversing with some people and so was (Y/N), using his eloquence to get his points across. Bruce smiled as he brought a glass up to his lips, sipping some champagne.

All was well.

For once.

Bruce was surprised, but wasn't going to complain or actually question why the universe has decided to bring peace upon the Wayne Manor. Peace was seemingly a rare thing in this Manor and Bruce was going to cherish it for the rest of the night. Actually, for as long as it lasts, Bruce will cherish it.

Oh, that peace wasn't going to last long.

At all.

As (Y/N) was talking to a woman about some charities, a big, fat businessman approached. Sure, it's not nice to call someone fat, but, if someone's stomach is spilling over the pants, then it's just a fair game. Bruce watched from afar, just observing the room.

He raised his brow when he saw (Y/N) frowning, clearly mad about something. Bruce could make out a few words and one of them struck a nerve. Commie, or short for communist. (Y/N) never liked that. Never. Just because Russia was a communist country, that doesn't make him bad. And how the hell is that an insult?

(Y/N) shot right back, calling him a capitalist for not caring about his workers, which were the more prevalent rumors in the high society. Bruce watched, wondering how it will unfold. But then it hit him. This was the man that (Y/N) had problems with for the last few galas. (Y/N) always remained polite, but Bruce knew that it would rile him up and upset him.

Damian and Jason noticed and both have jumped to his defense, defending him with polite and tense smiles. But the businessman wasn't letting up. At all. Being this relentless in insulting was rather... Weird. Bruce kept watching, ready to step in the moment it gets too tense or it escalates.

And (Y/N) had a rule. It was, insult him all you want, but insult his brothers? He will retaliate. Tenfold.

And that's where the fat man opened the door for him to retaliate. The moment that the man insulted Damian's Arabic heritage and Jason's life on the streets before adoption, (Y/N) was absolutely fuming and has decided to go onto the offensive.

He hurled insults onto the man, but one that made Bruce nearly lose his mind was, and he quotes this, " You are one sandwich away from a heart attack. " And (Y/N) wasn't done, far from done. Firstly, the Russian accent came out during all of this and he wasn't letting up. Since the family of the fat businessman joined, (Y/N) was not battling on two different fronts.

And he wasn't holding back.

At all.

Jason and Damian were trying to keep straight faces but it's not easy.

Bruce had no doubt that Jason would later say that the insults are a work of art.

The gala was now over and everyone was sitting in the kitchen, munching on the leftover food. Alfred was standing there, watching (Y/N), knowing what had went down in the ballroom. Bruce was supposed to scold him. Maybe ground him, perhaps. Take away certain things?

But then again, he was defending himself. The man insulted him first so... Well...

So Bruce was going to try to scold (Y/N). He has to. And that was difficult when everyone around them was trying not to laugh so hard. Even Alfred. Seeing (Y/N) snap, when he was normally kind and calm. And with a Russian accent too. It was all too much for Jason who was laughing his ass off the entire time whole Bruce was trying to scold the reader.

" You know what, I won't scold you, " Bruce declared, making Jason cry from laughter.

" (Y/N) snapping is the best thing that has ever happened at a gala. Ever. EVER, " Jason wheezed out, slapping his knee.

Alfred tried not to break, because he was supposed to be a serious one, but Alfred couldn't even hold it together. He was about to break. Should (Y/N) be scolded? Yes. However, he didn't start the insulting, the man did... Alfred tried to keep it together. He did.

And he was going to keep it together.

So, to conclude the evening, in the history of galas, (Y/N) has put his mark in it.

[yandere-daydreams]

can’t stop thinking about lil damian being bat-sis’ respite from the freaks, because they have only one rule and it is Don’t Let Damian See. BECAUSE HE IS A CHILD. and he hatesss when you try to hang around him like a seagull looking for scraps. he thinks you’re simpering and stupid and father finally perfected the art of making a kid (he’s the best offspring, duh) so why does Bruce need another whelp?

He starts to look at it like a science project: how long can you spend in Dick’s company before you start looking for an exit? what is the ratio of time spent outside with Jason to your general grouchiness when you return? would you choose to be his punching bag in training over having “girl time” with Steph? how long can Tim stare at you from across the library before you turn to Damian and read aloud to him? like he’s a baby. and then he begins to test that: how much will you pamper him if it means you don’t have to hang out with bruce’s fake kids? Will you pose so he can paint you? will you help him with his school projects? will you hold his hand while he crosses the street? he saw it in a movie once, when you had him curled up next to you as a buffer between you and Dick, surely it’s a real thing. And you indulge him because he’s starting to seem like a sweet kid - clearly he was putting up a front when you first met the little guy and he actually quite likes having an older sister. yeah he’s still a bit mean, but he shows you his paintings and puffs out his chest a little when you say they’re amazing. so, it’s not that bad. But then Dick starts to become a Freak over how motherly you’re being with his kind-of-brother, kind-of-son-that-one-time-when-their-dad-died. And Jason becomes a Freak over how sweet you are even after Damian breaks your finger when you catch his punch in training (Damian wraps it for you after, that’s basically an apology). And Tim is a freak over the fact that you let Damian rest his head on your lap after a long day at school. And it gets harder for the older bat boys to hide their thoughts about you.

And to your horror, you realize that now they have leverage. That during a big family dinner, with Dick’s hand on your thigh, and Jason’s hickey on your collar, and Tim’s fucking spend in your underwear - the only way to keep this away from the poor kid sitting across from you at the dinner table, is to bend a little to the numerous demands of you.

Sorry Dami, I can’t hang out this afternoon, I said I’d help Jason with his motorcycle repair. I know I promised I’d read with you. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.

(is this sad? it’s supposed to be sad. even in fanfiction Damian can’t stop being a tool of control for the people around him 😔)

fjkdlsjfkldjklsjfkl anon your mind is HOT. ngl i have been sitting on this ask for a while just because i feel like i have to re-read it every couple of days, but i simply cannot keep it to myself forever.

damian has such a,,, particular role in batfam stuff methinks. he's not really old enough to be aware of his brothers' less savory intentions or that he's being used, in someway or another, as a pawn, but he has to know that something isn't right. dick's been visiting the manor more often, now that you're staying here full time. jason is more possessive of you than his other siblings, despite your complete and total failure in all things combat or vigilante related. tim gets twice as agitated as he usually does when damian interrupts your time together, despite that time never being put towards anything productive. it's off. it's different. it's not bad, per-say, but it's not good, either.

and then there's the way you act around him - clingy, nurturing, pathetic. you're too eager to please, too desperate to be in his proximity, no matter how clear he makes it that he's not interested in entertaining his father's lesser spawn. you'll run any errand, no matter how trivial. you'll help him train, no matter how many times he breaks you. you'll do anything, so long as it means you're in the same room as him. if bruce hadn't made it clear that you're here to stay, then he might've tried leaving you in a cardboard box on some city corner. clearly, you don't mind when people treat you like an unwanted pet.

and then, you realize you are unwanted. and then, you leave.

you don't try to help him with his homework, anymore. you're always in jason's shop, always too dead-eyed and worn down by the time he lets you go to ask what he's covering in school. you don't compliment his paintings, anymore. tim's tainted your perception - always pulling you to the side, always showing you something on his phone that makes your lips purse and your face pale. you still take him on daytrips, sometimes, but dick's always with you, now, always holding your hand and steering you away from damian. it's annoying. it's disappointing - to think that you'd suddenly decide your time is better spent with them than with him.

he's thankful to be left alone. at least, that's what he tells himself when dick stops letting him into your bedroom, when tim explains that you weren't going to hang out with a kid forever. you haven't bothered him in weeks. you haven't done much of anything in weeks, and that's for the best.

his brothers wouldn't be so happy about it, if it wasn't for the best.

[myerssimp21]

Tim Drake, Aphrodisiac Victim (YAN!Pt.1)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam x fem reader. Part 1 Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

It’s easy for him to excuse it, easy for Tim Drake to pretend like he hadn’t intentionally fumbled the latest conflict with Poison Ivy. He could have done more to stop her, but when he discovered her plan and spent days pouring over the ingredients in her new concoction, the holistic quality of her potion calmed his nerves and quieted the anxious parts of him that screamed he would get caught. Ivy was known for several atrocities in Gotham, but she didn’t usually act as aggressively as Scarecrow or Joker with her toxins.

So when Tim Drake definitively concluded her newest potion wouldn’t have any adverse health effects, he was slower than he should have been when she whipped out the perfume bottle and sprayed it at him.

He’d been expecting this; what he hadn’t expected was Bruce yanking him backwards in an attempt to save him from the mist. The Batclaw shot out, aiming for the bottle in her hands but failing to retrieve it halfway through the delivery, the glass shattering on the ground and splashing all over the Bat and Tim Drake.

There had been dizzying action, and then only silence for a moment. Ivy had a shit-eating smile creeping onto her face as she began backing away, keeping her eyes on the two men trying to catch their breath.

“Gentlemen, it looks like you have the night off,” she said with a giggle as she continued to retreat, eyeing her escape route, “maybe make plans?”

“Pamela,” The Bat growls in a dark tone, his anger barely contained over how their mission had gone so wrong, “Give me the antidote.”

She turns to run away and he lunges forward to grab her before his knees buckle under him and he collapses to the ground, catching his balance and hearing her scurry off.

“Batman,” Tim says, feeling the weight of consequences of his actions as he feels his crotch begin tingling, “she doesn’t have one. I checked.”

The silence is palpable as Bruce evens out his breathing and pushes off the ground, using a nearby wall to steady himself, “We need to get to the Batmobile before it sets in.”

Tim shudders as Bruce places a giant hand on his shoulder, concerned both at how hard the big man is taking the dose and at how good the physical contact feels in this state. He hopes Bruce doesn’t feel pleasure at the slightest touch like he does; he’s frustrated since it was supposed to be just him.

Tim Drake was supposed to receive an accidental dose of Ivy’s new aphrodisiac. Tim Drake was supposed to stop by their darling’s apartment afterwards to relieve the strain in his crotch and the desire in his heart. It was supposed to be the best porno he’d ever see; getting the best angles for the cameras discreetly set up at her place earlier that month to rewatch later.

He knew Bruce was smart and Tim only hoped to earn forgiveness for this by making the best home film with you. He also knew Dick, Jason, and Damian would be grouchy he’d gotten to you first and it was entirely possible he’d get just decimated by your lack of interest altogether. Even though you and Tim had become close over the past couple semesters, he could tell you were reserved at times, just anxious or uneasy enough to pull away before anything with lasting complications happened.

The Batmobile had an autopilot feature which Bruce immediately enacted, setting a course for the Batcave. Wordlessly, Tim adds their darling’s apartment complex in as a stop, trying to not get shaky at the thought of getting laid in this state. It’s so easy to add it; all he has to do is press it from the list of saved priority locations in the portal.

“I had my suspicions,” Batman murmurs as he closes his eyes and lays against the headrest, trying to control the sensations in his body, “you wouldn’t have gotten sprayed at that range unless you wanted to.”

Tim says it before he can think in misplaced irritation, “Then why’d you get in the way?”

It’s embarrassing the moment he says it and Bruce says nothing in response, letting the silence sour in the air to make a point.

“What are you going to do?” Tim asks him, too aware of the growing urge to sink his dick into a warm, wet hole. The urge is going to be hard to wrangle enough to talk to her, let alone look normal enough to seem like a regular hook-up.

“I’ll manage,” is all Bruce says, and Tim hopes that means he’ll call Catwoman as soon as he leaves; he suddenly doesn’t like the idea of everyone tuning in at once to the live camera feeds as he tries his hand at seducing you. It feels like lots of pressure, and while Tim Drake is usually phenomenal at working under pressure, he doesn’t want to get rejected in 4k.

Bruce grips the steering wheel tight when the tingles begin in his crotch, trying to distract himself, “I have a change of clothes under your seat. Change before we get to her place.”

~

Bruce makes the call while he can, letting Damian know he and Tim were not going to be able to finish their patrol shift. Damian sounds unimpressed when he asks why and Bruce doesn’t answer him, hanging up.

Bruce goes to voicemail when he calls Jason, and his jaw clenches in irritation. He knows Jason holds more resentment towards him and might murder some criminals if made to do patrol on a night he’s supposed to have off, but Bruce can’t let Damian do patrol alone in the big city yet. He’s also a little concerned that Jason might murder Tim if he hears him with you, so getting him out on patrol is better for everyone.

After calling Jason two more times, Bruce gives up and calls Damian back, telling him he’d send Grayson over. Ever efficient, Damian is already dressed as Robin on the Batmobile’s call screen, his eyes narrowing in his domino mask.

"Father, your demeanor suggests trouble. What went wrong with Drake during the patrol?"

"It's nothing, Damian. Just a minor setback. We handled it."

"Minor setbacks don't usually disrupt patrol schedules. What are you hiding, Father?"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," Bruce says, ignoring Damian's rude interrogation, "Make sure to stop by the GCPD to follow up with Jack Ryder on-" Bruce's voice falters as he struggles to remember what the story is; his crotch begins throbbing uncomfortably and he feels like the heat is spreading up his torso with each beat of his heart.

"On those cryptic messages left in the GCPD mailbox," Tim finishes for Bruce, leaning in to fit in the camera lens so Damian can see him too. Damian rolls his eyes.

"Your knack for evasion is quite the talent, Father. Maybe it's worth pondering why you choose partners if transparency isn't part of the deal."

With this scathingly cold delivery, Damian ends the call on a sour note. Tim would check with Bruce but their darling lives on the street they just turned down and his heartbeat has begun violently thudding in his chest and in his dick.

"Tim," Batman says firmly before Tim leaves the Batmobile, "stay in control. Scaring her off is not an option."

Tim's trying to not be sensitive about it because after all, it makes sense; if he comes off too strong and scares her, not only is he fucked immediately with Ivy's aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, but he will complicate things for the whole Wayne family. The other part of him, the part being drugged by Ivy's potion wants to whine in protest. How is he supposed to exercise control!? He'd never force himself on her but he doesn't doubt he might pass out if he doesn't find relief soon. As he exits the Batmobile with her apartment building in front of him, he just prays Jason is asleep and doesn't cockblock him.

You weren’t asleep yet. At 10 PM, you were drawing in bed, pausing at different parts in the pornographic video you were watching to practice drawing bodies. You couldn’t deny this way of practicing wasn’t tempting you to turn the lights off and rub one out with one of your vibrators though. They were recently charged, after all.

Not wanting to stop drawing quite yet but wanting the desire to build, you turn up the volume of the tv and make an effort to not pause as much. It felt good to feel a building arousal in your body and know you could use your toy as many times as you liked. It had already been about twenty minutes of you rotating out on your favorite pornography and hentai tags, working your brain up to arousal under the guise of practicing art. It honestly didn’t take much to get you feeling hot; growing sexual tension in your personal life made it easy to tap into. Maybe it was just that it never left your mind in the first place, and your mind wandered as your fingers snuck under the waistband of your shorts.

You thought of the recent weird vibes between you and Tim, the boy in your humanities course you sat near who was also in your social work course. You’d exchanged numbers early in the semester and at this point you’d met up for study sessions more than once. He’d always been a little flirtatious but you thought he was joking until he had leaned in the other day, hand finding purchase on your thigh as he murmured, “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

It was so generic you would have chuckled or rolled your eyes but the way he said it made goosebumps raise on your skin instead. His eyes were locked on yours and the sober intensity in them was not something you had prepared for, leaning away from him in sudden awkwardness even when you felt your cheeks burning.

Still, the thought of how he looked at you made you shudder when your finger brushed against your clit and your mind raced on.

Then there was your next-door neighbor, Jason. Tall and broad-shouldered, there's a casual confidence in the way he moves. His piercing blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement whenever you shyly chat with him, like he's in on some secret joke. The black cat always at his heels chirps happily on his little patio table when you two chat, purring loudly and head-butting Jason at any given opportunity. Always, Jason makes his appearance shirtless, his eyes laughing louder at you every time you feel your face flush when he says something questionably flirtatious towards you. It's one thing to playfully flirt, but to do so while ripped and shirtless? How was your ability to articulate yourself around him supposed to have a chance?

You try not to look and act unflustered every time, but once your eyes lingered and you noticed scar tissue all over his torso, unable to tear yourself away from the sight. You'd apologized when he jokingly said you'd better take a picture, since you didn't want to seem rude checking out his scars and felt silly for getting caught staring.

"They come with a price, always," Jason remarked cryptically, suddenly making intense eye contact.

"Your scars?" You asked, afraid to say the wrong thing due to your social anxieties but leaning towards him from your bannister.

"No, my pictures" he replied with a smirk, his eyes twinkling mischievously while Alfred the cat chirped at his ankles again. Jason leaned across his bannister too, "But I've always believed in getting to know my neighbors. I think you and I could take that to a whole new level, don't you?"

"I-I think... that could be...nice," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Getting to know you better, I mean." You had looked away while trying to choke out these words, gathering your courage before meeting his gaze again. "I'm curious about you.. So maybe we could... explore each other sometime."

His eyes widened, his expression betraying a hint of genuine disbelief. A faint blush quickly dusted his cheeks, mirroring the warmth you felt spreading through you at his suggestion.

"Wow," he said, his voice laced with surprise and breathier than normal, "I wasn't expecting that, but... I like where you're going with this." The tone of admiration had given you chills at the time, praise kink activating at the new way he was regarding you. "I’m curious about you too, you know. Let's see just how close we can really get."

His reaction left you feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, but you couldn't help but smile at his response. You hadn't seen him since then, a couple days ago, and you hoped your conversation would amount to something delicious one day if it was meant to be.

As you reminisced about Tim's intense words and Jason's forward suggestions, your fingers gravitated towards your clit, applying firm pressure as they glided up and down your labia before slowly easing into your pussy. You opted for two fingers, relishing the sensation of fullness they provided compared to just one. They pressed deeply inside you, and you squeezed around them exploratively, reveling in the feeling.

After relishing the fullness of your fingers, you pumped them a few times, a low moan escaping your lips at the intense sensation. Your eyes scrunched shut tightly as you imagined Tim's hand from the other day—how it had come to rest on your thigh, the way it had firmly gripped at you, igniting a desire to jump at the touch.

You visualized him inching closer to the point of no return, sliding his hand into your underwear, and letting his fingers work their magic right there as you both sat with your homework in front of you. Just moments ago, you would have been innocently reviewing new terms together, but then the thought of his touch would be obscenely irresistible. You pictured yourself moving your hips, eagerly responding to his touch and allowing yourself to make all the noises you had always been too nervous to make with others. You imagined he'd get antsy to fuck you after hearing the squelching of your pussy on his fingers. In your mind's eye, he would just barely find the self-control to pull his cock out from his pants before burying his length desperately as far deep as it could go in you.

As you finally reached for the vibrators kept next to the bed, the abrupt sound of knocking at the door shattered your session. Startled, you jumped up, hastily yanking your shorts back up and rushing to wash your hands.

With no peephole on your apartment door, you felt a twinge of unease as you hurried to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the sight of Tim standing there caught you off guard.

"Hey... uh, sorry to just show up unannounced like this," Tim begins, his voice slightly breathless. "I, uh, I needed to talk to you about something important."

He shifts uncomfortably, trying to suppress the nervous energy coursing through him. "I know it's kind of out of the blue, but... can I come in? It won't take long, I promise."

Tim's words come out rushed, his cheeks flushed with a mix of urgency and embarrassment, as he struggles to maintain his composure despite the powerful effects of the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins.

Without hesitating, you step aside, allowing Tim to enter. His presence saturates the room, bringing with it an air of tension and anticipation.

"Tim, what's going on? Are you okay?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern and uncertainty as you closed and locked the door behind him.

His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your heart beat just a little faster, unsure of what he was going to tell you.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what I said the other day," Tim began, his words coming out in a rush. "About how you drive me crazy. I... I don't know how to explain it but I felt like I had to come see you."

His confession hung in the air, heavy with emotion and unspoken arousal.

As he stood before you, his usually composed demeanor was replaced by an air of dishevelment. His hair was messier, and his clothes weren't neat like usual. There was a manic energy in his expression, a hint of desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tim, you seem... different tonight," you remarked cautiously, noting the wild look in his eyes.

"I couldn't wait any longer," he confessed, his voice emotional, "I needed to see you. I needed to be with you tonight more than anything."

The intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing, a sense of unease creeping over you as you began to comprehend the depth of his interest. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of something akin to surrender. You longed for him to desire you so intensely that he couldn't wait for a more appropriate time, practically begging you to spend a night with him like a lost puppy.

As Tim stood before you, his agitation evident in every movement, you couldn't ignore the tension in the air. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to the now noticeable bulge in his pants and you're captivated by it, unwilling to look away. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the undeniable evidence of his desire.

"Can you... touch me?" Tim's voice trembled with urgency as he made the request, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the underlying intensity. "You can set the pace, do anything you want, just... please, do something," he added, his words carrying a fervent plea while leaving the decision entirely in your hands.

The tension was thick but you couldn't say you were really surprised at this admission of interest. Regarding the boy in front of you, you pondered the consequences this could lead to. As far as you knew, Tim wasn't a frat boy or someone who could make your life annoying with spreading rumors about the type of girl you were at school. He'd only ever been considerate, kind, and genuine. No girlfriend that you knew of, and he'd definitely be the kind of guy who gushed about his partner if he had one, so you wouldn't be any sort of homewrecker. He always helped you with your homework, to a point where you barely needed to do anything but the minimum whenever he got involved in any of your projects or assignments. This in mind, you decided he deserved a reward.

Leaning in towards him, you place your hands against his cheeks to cup his face. His eyes are wide, the pupils dilated. You thought you heard somewhere that meant someone was in love. Staring into those blown pupils with a mixture of curiosity and arousal, you drew closer.

"Can I kiss you?" You whisper and he nods before you can even get the question out. You kiss him, noticing he seems to freeze up for a moment before kissing you back, pressing against your mouth harder. His tongue swipes against you, but before you let yourselves go any further, you pull away.

"Before things escalate, can we agree to keep it casual, keep us casual? I like what we have."

He seems so antsy, almost breathless, "Absolutely, yeah. I'm all in. No pressure."

Doubting his sincerity since he seems so gone off of whatever is happening to him, you hesitate, "Tim, I'm serious. I don't want you to agree just because of the moment or you're high."

You're staring into those dilated eyes of his in the beat of silence that follows, hoping he's really listening to you.

He looks back into your eyes, the frenzied look a little more under control. "I hear you, I'm on the same page. Friends-with-benefits, I'd love that." Notably, he doesn't deny the speculation of being high.

Nodding at the more clear communication, you went back in for the kiss, now letting his tongue enter and explore your mouth. After getting more clarity from him, you feel less tense and relax into his kiss, feeling his hand come up to touch at your hair as he takes more control of it.

Dropping to your knees when the kiss breathlessly ends, you kiss at his clothed bulge, pawing at it with a hand. Your eyes are fixated on the stricken Tim Drake above you, and he watches in awe as you deeply inhale. You can smell him through his pants and nuzzle your cheek against the bump in them.

Slowly pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants, your fingers hook on the band and you pull them down till they're bunched at his ankles, hardly taking a breather from your kisses.

"Oh, god," he moans in a strangled voice, "You're so pretty down there."

His praise makes your cheeks begin to burn and your movements get a little more self-conscious, feeling marveled at. Moving your mouth against his bulge in his boxers, you find where the tip should be and roughly suck at it through his underwear. His body shudders, one of his hands fingering through your hair and grabbing it firmly and he hisses, "Play nice."

Feeling good about this now, you moan into his bulge at the choked tone you caused him, pulling his boxers down and kissing on his penis directly now. Lifting it, you craned underneath and kissed at his balls, licking a long strip up from them to the tip and swirling your tongue around his hole at the top. A loud moan tore through Tim and you felt him push his pelvis towards you more, the tip of his penis in your mouth beginning to inch further.

Graciously, you accept his bid, widening your mouth to swallow him completely when he pushes in. He's not terribly big but it's still a little hard to fit him in, the longer length causing it to bump into the back of your throat. He doesn't taste bad considering your previous experiences with oral. It was musty and damp like he'd just worked out, but the faint scent of soap and the neat pubes your nose was buried in told you his hygiene wasn't terrible.

Swirling your tongue with the movement, you experimentally go down on him to gauge his reaction. He moans loudly again and the sound is beautiful to you, doing it again in the hopes he moans nicely again. He does and you fixate your gaze up at him as you take his cock deeply again and his face betrayed how flustered he was, with his cheeks flushed and the look of a madman about him.

He's watching you like he adores you and when you make eye contact, his hips buck into your mouth and he whines, "I knew you'd be gorgeous swallowing my cock, you're taking it so well."

You look up at him in curiosity, so he thought about you like that? He'd pictured this?

"Fuck, I knew it. I knew you'd look beautiful on your knees."

You sense his thighs trembling and your hands come up to press against them, mouth obediently swallowing his cock.

"Oh," he chokes and roughly thrusts deeply, "I'm cumming- it's coming, swallow it all!"

He looks back down at you and then it comes as he moans loudly and crouches to push his cock as far as it will go down your throat, the overwhelming cumshot from the throbbing penis in between your lips threatening to spill out of your mouth. You always hated swallowing cum, and the hot orgasm spurting into your mouth is no exception. You feel your gag reflex threatening to make this night nightmarish but then it ebbs away as you focus on the fact the flow of cum is slowing down, on the fact this particular sensation will go away soon.

You can't lie he sounds and looks delicious otherwise, your eyes focusing on his flustered face that looks almost entirely delirious now. He's sweaty but the handsome face almost glows with liveliness, cheeks flushed and jawline trembling with emotion.

Gently, you slide his penis out of your mouth, sucking any remaining cum or spit off until you get to the tip, lightly swirling your tongue against his hole. When you finally pop off, his hand cups your cheek and he promptly drops to his knees, passionately grabbing your face and kissing you. His tongue wriggles into your mouth and you're surprised he's tongue-kissing you with the flavor of his cum fresh in your mouth still. One of his hands hungrily comes up to knead at your tit and you whimper as he harshly pinches on the end of it. Then he's pulled away from the kiss but his body is beginning to overwhelm you, crawling on top of you as you fall back onto your butt with your legs in front.

"Let me have you," he pleads, and you feel his penis is hard again and prodding against your thigh, "Please let me have you right now."

You wouldn't have preferred doing it mere feet away from your front door, especially since the crack under the door was a couple centimeters wide and anyone in the hall could probably hear you without effort, but the wild look in his eyes and the famished way he pulled at both your tits now made you want to indulge in such an animalistic fucking. Something was hot about the desperate way he looked, something enticing about the frenzied approach. You'd never seen this side of him, and the consequences of indulging with him in such a degrading way was far from your mind when his head dipped down and he tugged at the hem of your shirt. Helping him take off your shirt by lifting your arms, he wasted no time in shoving his face in your cleavage, nipping at the top of your breasts with his teeth.

Yelping at the surprising and slightly painful sensation, your hands come up to grip at his hair and he lays large wet kisses against your breasts, sucking at the skin there. You know he's gunning for hickeys and you whimper when he alternates between open-mouthed kisses and biting, arching and pressing your breasts further towards him.

His mouth pops off of them and he leans in, head over your shoulder as he fidgets with your bra clasp behind you. You turn your head as he fiddles with it and bury your face into his neck, inhaling deeply before kissing at it. He smells faintly of laundry detergent, but there's sweat and a slightly sweeter smell lingering on him, the sweeter smell hanging heavily in your nostrils and seemingly dripping at the back of your throat. It makes your head buzz a little and you pull away in a daze when he fails to unclasp your bra, your tits popping out of the thing when he pulls it down in frustration.

"What cologne do you wear?" You ask without really wanting to know right now, feeling your head spin after smelling at his neck.

"I'm not," he gasps, squeezing and pinching at your nipples freely now, and you throw your head back with a moan when he attaches at them with his mouth. He uses his tongue and teeth to alternate between nibbling and flicking at them with his tongue, paying attention to each side as he can. His penis is excitedly bumping against your thigh in his boxers and you kick your shorts off, groping at his bulge.

"Please," he says with need when he takes a break from your tits, and his hand now fumbles at his boxers. You see him pull his cock out from the hole in them and understand what he wants when he slides your panties aside, not bothering to remove them. His dick prods at you and his hips slowly move around, trying to find your entrance. Aroused and excited to feel him enter, you reach down to guide him in.

Then, you remember.

Groaning in annoyance, you gently begin pushing him off of you, "Tim, we have to use a condom. They're in my room."

He finally pulls off your tits with enough of your pushing, and he looks at you like he doesn't understand, a rabid look glinting in his eyes.

You smile, trying to make the best of it, "C'mon, it'll be more comfortable for us on the bed anyways."

Standing and realizing you feel uncharacteristically light-headed, you unsteadily make your way to your bedroom, feeling him grip at your hips while he follows. You apologize for the pornography still loudly streaming from your TV as you make your way to your dresser to get a condom, and his eyes quickly become glued to the visual stimulation, mouth opened slightly as he stared.

"Keep it on," he instructs when he notices you reach for the TV remote, "Keep it on and get over here."

You approach the bed where he sits on the end, and he opens the wrapper and pulls his boxers down to reveal his penis, hastily rolling the condom onto his length. The sensation of doing so seems to be much more stimulating to him than you thought it would, and he moans and whimpers as he pulls it all the way down. Once it's on, he grabs forward at your waist and yanks you down onto him, your breasts smashing against his face as you fall onto him. He's strong and you're letting him pull you around, straddling his lap and looking down at the needy man.

"Here," you say, reaching past him to grab your pillow and tuck it under his head, "There you go."

You smile down at him sweetly and he smiles back, kneading at your ass as you sit atop him. Leaning down to kiss him, you use a hand to reach down and guide his penis against your entry, pulling it to rub it up and down against you. His tip collects your aroused wetness and the movement become slippery as it slides with your lubrication. Just when you can tell he's getting antsy and about to whine, you guide it until you feel it at the tip of your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto it and his grip on your ass tightens until it's almost painful.

"Oh," He moans, deeply affected. His hips are still as you let him slowly penetrate you until you're full with him and there's no more room in you to sink down further, "Oh, god, you feel so good."

"How do I feel?" You ask in curiosity, looking at him as he seems dazed with the sensation of your pussy. A sudden thrust upwards into you makes you yelp, his hard penis harshly bumping against your cervix. His eyes are closed as he collects his words.

"You're so warm and fluttering around me," he says, and it's true. You feel yourself squeezing at him at the sight of him, his relief evident, "I've never felt so good; it's like you were meant to have me buried in you."

His words are spoken with conviction, and you're processing it all when he thrusts again. It still hurts, but less now. Your head is spinning, but you catch onto his new rhythm and begin lifting your hips up, forcefully pushing them down on him in time with his thrusts.

Pained but aroused moans spilling from your lips in time with each thrust, you realize your tits are bouncing around in his face with your fucking, swinging around wildly. His grip on your hips tightens impossibly and you see his biceps flex madly when his muscles take over, overriding your own rhythm and violently making you meet his thrusts. The moans from his own mouth gets louder until they're louder than yours, his pace quickening at the sight of your expression above him. You look fucked out and in pain and he relishes in it, knowing the sound of skin slapping against skin is his own doing. He grits his teeth and pulls you all the way down on his length like you were when you got on top at first, shooting his orgasm into the condom but envisioning it shooting straight into your womb.

You hiss in some pain at this large and painful thrust, moaning at the distant feeling of his dick twitching in you. The base of his cock is nestled at your entrance and you feel the entire length of it throbbing in your hot pussy as he takes his time to finish.

"You haven't cum," he says through heavy breaths as he comes down and you know he isn't asking but stating his observation.

"It's still really hot," you admit, "I like how it feels when you cum in me."

Staring up at you, he brings his hands up to your ass again and lifts his hips to inch the both of you towards the head of the bed, reaching towards the bedside dresser and grabbing one of your vibrators, handing it to you. You're still impaled on him and gasp at the sensation of him jerking you forward with him on his dick. Now kneading rhythmically at your tits, he pulls at them like he was milking you, "Cum on my cock."

Wide-eyed, you realize he's perceptive and has noticed your vibrators when you came in.

His gaze is drinking you in, eyes less wild as he stares. When you hesitate, he takes the vibrator from your fingers and turns it on, placing it against your clit as you sit on him. You're impressed he knows where the clit is and you jump at the sensation of the vibrator bumping against it, feeling him thrust up with an overstimulated whimper when you jump.

"Tim," you gasp, "doesn't that hurt?"

"Don't worry about it," he hisses through gritted teeth, "I need to feel you cum on my cock."

So you focus on finding your orgasm, hyperaware of the hard rod resting in your secret place, tracing the sex toy along places near your clitoris and moaning in pleasure as you play with yourself. He whimpers every time you squeeze on him and you squeeze on him any time you find pleasure near your clit. His hands return to milking your tits and you remember that his condom is full of his cum, sloshing around deep inside you and pressing against your cervix. The fear of the condom breaking suddenly rushes you to your first orgasm and you gasp his name, feeling him twitch deep inside you as you repeat his name helplessly in your climax. He strains upwards and his lips catch a nipple, sucking harshly as you begin to come down.

"Keep it there," he growls when you begin to pull your vibrator away, "We're not going anywhere until you cum again."

"Tim," you whimper, "I can't."

"I know you can," he says, thrusting upwards experimentally. The movement makes the vibrator bump against your clit and you squeeze down on him at your own overstimulation, making him groan. He slowly and determinedly begins thrusting into you again, small tears forming in his eyes at the overstimuation.

His stubborn insistence on chasing your second high even though you're both beyond the edge only makes you more aroused and you rut against him. He's not thrusting fully, but more so bumping against your cervix in small movements and you're fraught with a visual of the full condom sloshing around. You wonder if he will cum again into it, if it will become so full with his semen it bursts inside you. This thought along with his steady breast kneading causes the knot to quickly build up in your cunt until it comes undone again, and your second orgasm hits in a fray of overstimulation and whimpering.

"There you go," he coos, legs underneath you twitching at your pulsing movements, "There you go, you did so well. You did so good for me, baby...you were meant for it."

You shudder at the sweet tone, being pulled down for a long kiss. His chest is sweaty, the space in between the bottom of your thighs and the tops of his is slick, and you're gasping against his neck when he holds you. The two of you spend a while in that embrace, regaining your breaths and recovering from the intense session. Your head rests against his collarbone until you stir, slowly lifting yourself off him and breathing through the feeling of his cock sliding out of you. When it's fully out, you collapse next to him on the bed, bringing a leg up to wrap around his as you both take a breather.

You know you told him it was no commitment, no feelings, no drama, but you can't deny yourself a cuddle session after sex regardless. He doesn't speak, but the silence is comfortable as you rest your head against the crook of his chest and side. The atmosphere in the room shifts subtly as the distant sounds of the television fade into the background, replaced by the incessant chirping of Tim's phone.

You can't help but notice the growing urgency in Tim's demeanor as he glances at his device, a furrow forming on his brow. Despite your reluctance, he rises from the bed, his movements hesitant yet determined.

Sitting up despite your whines of protest, Tim looks at his device in concern and reluctance, "I have to take this."

Your initial protest dies on your lips as you watch him leave the room, a knot of unease forming in the pit of your stomach. What could possibly be so pressing at this hour? The uncertainty gnaws at you, feeding into the growing sense of unease.

As you strain to make out the muffled voices from the other room, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. The once familiar sounds of Tim's voice now carry an edge of tension, each word laced with frustration and urgency. It's a stark contrast to the comfortable silence you shared moments ago.

Your heart sinks further as Tim returns, his expression weighed down by an unspoken burden. The air between you feels heavy with anticipation, as if bracing for the inevitable.

"What's wrong?" you venture cautiously, already dreading the answer.

Tim's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he meets your eyes, his voice heavy with apology, "I'm really sorry, but something came up. I have to go."

Your mind races, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in the atmosphere. What could possibly be so urgent? Despite your efforts to remain composed, a wave of insecurity washes over you. Did this mean you weren't important enough to prioritize?

"...Really?" you finally utter, your voice trembling slightly.

"Yes," he reluctantly confirms, a guilty expression on his face, "I'm very sorry, but I need to attend to this."

Wanting to protest but knowing it would be more frustration than it was worth, you nodded slowly at the news, "...Okay."

He starts for the door, ""I wish I could stay, but I really need to go. I'll make this up to you, I swear."

As Tim heads towards the front of your apartment to gather his belongings and dress, you follow behind, hastily pulling on your shirt as you move. Despite the turmoil swirling within, you're determined to maintain a façade of composure, refusing to let the tears welling up inside spill over. The uncertainty gnaws at you as you watch him prepare to leave, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. You desperately cling to the hope that something truly urgent has come up, unable to bear the thought of him simply walking away after the intimacy you shared. You wonder if you'll be able to face him at school after this, but the thought is so overwhelming to you that you just try to focus on the present moment.

You swallow hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you bid him farewell, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions. As the door clicks shut behind him, you're left standing alone in the hallway, grappling with the aftermath of his abrupt departure.

After a long moment, you decide that freshening up will probably help you feel better and you turn on heel to head towards the bathroom, the goal of brushing your teeth and washing your face the only thing you're ready to focus on in your sudden loneliness.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

@dakota-rain666 @tyga-stripes @obsessedwithromance

[mamawasatesttube]

i am going to say something that is . well i don't think it's controversial in that i don't think it has been said enough to cause controversy to begin with but skjdfhjds listen. hear me out

tim/ber/kon <<<<<<<<< timiveskon

on the one hand you have an uphill battle to convince me why these characters would even give a shit about each other (plus i mean megfitz massacred their characterizations and thats a whole extra mess) and generally it just reads to me as just treating kon as tim's spare love interest uwu without any care about his character.

but on the OTHER HAND.... timiveskon? chefs kiss. kon and ives are instantly bonding over nerdisms. they are both standing on the table and yelling about the rereleased edition of return of the jedi and kon is going on about how he has the original literally downloaded into his brain and ives thinks that's the sexiest thing he's ever heard and tim is just sitting there consumed by lust while they both yell about greedo. it practically writes itself. come on

[ichorai]

chiropterology — hunt.

drabble synopsis ; someone broke your shrink ray. who could have possibly done such a thing? warnings ; sexually suggestive, sibling-typical bickering, batmom's solution to boredom is stirring up trouble a/n ; this drabble is based on that one parks and rec scene HAHAHA

series masterlist.

The broken orange shards of the shrink ray were strewn across the table. You stared down at the ruined contraption with your hands propped on your hips. “Okay. Who broke it?”

The rest of the kids glanced at each other in suspicion, but nobody spoke up. 

“I’m not mad, I promise,” you said. “I just want to know. I loved this shrink ray—”

“Almost as much as your firstborn child, the cake robot, we know,” Jason lamented, grouchy that he’d been dragged out of bed for this. “Come on. Someone confess so I can leave already.”

Dick, bearing the solemn face of an older brother about to make a noble sacrifice, raised his hand. “I did. I broke—”

“No, you didn’t,” you deadpanned. “You were out on patrol. I saw you leave.”

Deflating, Dick lowered his hand back down. 

“Steph?” you asked, looking at her expectantly.

Immediately, she shook her head, offended. “Nuh-uh. Don’t look at me. Look at Damian.”

The young boy’s face soured, his arms crossing. “I did not break it.”

Steph scoffed. “Huh. Weird. How’d you even know it was broken?”

Damian regarded her as if she’d grown a second head. “Because it is sitting right in front of us, and it’s broken.”

Pursing her lips together, Steph leaned down until she was nearly nose-to-nose with the now-snarling Damian. “Hm. Suspicious.”

“I do not touch Mother’s contraptions without permission, lest I lose an arm or leg from a faulty machine.”

“Okay, ouch,” you said, half-laughing.

Jason, muffling a yawn behind his fist, said, “If it matters—probably not—but Tim was definitely the last one to use it. He shrunk his suit a bit because it was stretching out—”

“Liar!” Tim gasped, staring at the taller boy with his mouth hanging agape. “I haven’t been in the lab in several days!”

“Oh, really?” Jason taunted. “I don’t know, your suit’s been looking extra pinchy lately—”

Reddening, Tim said, “Bruce has me on a new training plan—” 

“Excuses, excuses—”

Dick cut in before Tim could fit in a scathing remark to Jason. “Okay, okay! Let’s not fight. It’s getting late. Come on, I did it, I broke the—”

“No!” you said, raising a finger to shush Dick. “I wanna know. Who broke it?”

Damian gestured towards Cassandra. “She has been awfully quiet.”

Cassandra’s brows raised incredulously. She pointed at herself. “Always quiet.”

“Awfully convenient,” Damian accused. 

“Did not use,” Cass gritted out. “Jason tense. Defensive?”

“Oh, really? You think I broke the stupid ray? Do you have any evidence, smart-ass?” Jason exclaimed, throwing his hands up, suddenly not looking all that tired anymore.

You made a show of pinching the space between your eyes. “Alright. I’m going to go make myself a cup of tea. When I come back—you guys better have sorted this out.”

As you turned to go, your stern countenance melted into an amused little smile. Behind you, the children erupted into a full-blown argument. You set the kettle to a boil, and Bruce just about materialized beside you, regarding you with a curious look.

“I can hear the kids bickering from all the way here. What on earth happened?”

You snickered under your breath. “I broke my shrink ray. It shrunk my files, so I got angry and threw it against the wall. I didn’t think it would explode like that, but hey, that’s what science is all about right?” 

After a few blinks at you, Bruce merely sighed. “I should’ve known. Do I even want to ask why?”

“I’m making things interesting! It was getting far too… docile in the manor.” You started laughing, shoulders quaking with your mirth as you poured the now-boiling water into a mug you readied with a tea bag. “I’d give it ten minutes before they start going for each other’s throats with war paint and severed pig heads on sticks.”

“They’re going to figure it out eventually,” he warned, a hand curling over your waist. “I trained them to be the best detectives in Gotham.”

“Exactly! Think of this as a training exercise. And it’s exactly why,” you said, giving him a small nudge towards the direction of the arguing horde of bats, “my handsome, loving husband will go in there and buy enough time for me to slip out before they come and hunt me down for sport.”

Bruce stared at you in silence for another moment. Then, a mischievous little smile graced the corner of his mouth and he dipped forward so his lips only barely grazed over yours. What a tease. “Maybe I’ll join them on their little hunt. You have a five minute head start. Entirety of the manor and the gardens is fair game—if we don’t find you within an hour, you’d win.”

“And my prize?”

“Hn.” Bruce glanced back, and then returned his eyes to you. His voice lowered to a husky murmur. “We can do that thing you’ve been wanting to try and the kids all up their training intensity. But if you lose… you get to be at my mercy for three nights.”

“Three whole nights, huh?” You met his gaze with a competitive yet flirtatious narrow of your eyes. “Challenge accepted,” you whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before backing away from him, leaving your fresh mug of tea abandoned on the kitchen counter, new priorities in order. “I won’t go easy on you, Batsy.”

“Wouldn’t have married you if I thought you would,” Bruce retorted, watching you disappear out of the kitchen with an exaggerated villainous laugh. It was ridiculous how after so many years together, you still managed to make his stomach twist and his heart race. Bruce set his jaw, now determined, and turned to join the bickering children.

[002yb]

If you're fine with it, can we have Jason distracted staring at Dick's back dimples while Tim tries to talk to him about a case?

Tim being well aware that Jason isn't listening to him and knowing there's nothing to be done for it. Because for all intents and purposes, Jason is in another plane of existence. That plane being the one just over Tim's head.

That Dick happens to be standing just behind him is irrelevant, surely. Totally coincidental. (눈_눈)

So there's Tim, trying to do his job. The job Jason requested Tim's assistance on, mind. Because it was important. And yet here Jason is now, being very much distracted by someone who is entirely unrelated to aforementioned important case/job.

Tim takes it in stride if only because it's not a surprise. Jason's crush on Dick isn't exactly a secret. As far as Tim's concerned, it's the only endearing thing about his menace of a brother.

There's something decidedly off about the attention Jason gives Dick this time though. There's nothing of the delicate, flustered maiden Tim is used to whenever Jason discreetly oogles and indulges in all that romantic whimsy of his–just a chilling intensity that has a shiver running up Tim's spine and anticipation making him wonder if he's missed something crucial.

So Tim observes as he rattles on about the case. He knows full well that he'll have to repeat everything later, but Jason's behavior is equal parts concerning and curious.

The way Jason goes from intently watching, neutral until his brows start to furrow and his lips pull down into a frown. A scowl. More and more pensive. Almost bristling.

Tim can't not look, so he casts a furtive glance over his shoulder, discreet and fleeting. And it's just Dick there. Dressed down in the usual athleisure, faced away from them as he looks something over at the large projections of the Batcomputer.

There's nothing to it. It's how Dick always looks after patrol, comfortable in a pair of sweats and a compression shirt. Nothing Jason hasn't flustered over plenty of times before.

Tim still remembers the first time Jason saw Dick dressed down post-patrol. How Dick and Jason were walking past each other, but while Jason kept walking, his head turned to trail after Dick. And how Jason ran into a table, tripped over Damian, and nearly overheated when Dick offered him a hand up. The way Jason's gaze lingered on Dick's bicep, his shoulders as he was hefted up. The way he almost went back down from how bad he was blushing.

It's as Tim is contemplating if Dick did something to provoke Jason's ire that Jason finally makes his move. Disregarding everything Tim says to shove past him and storm across the way, hand reaching out--

And Tim knows that Jason isn't brazen enough to turn Dick around and kiss him or anything like that, but with how puffed up Jason is, who's to say?

Tim is. Because he knows Jason and Jason would fluster and abort and see himself right out of Gotham before confessing his undying, decade long crush.

Which is neither here nor there, because instead Jason just jabs Dick right in the dimple of his lower back. A poke that's a little too vicious to be flirtatious, even for Jason

And Dick's inhale is so sharp that everyone in the cave turns to look

And Tim's eyes widen because fuck, if he thought Jason's stare was chilling, the way Dick glares is cold and severe and... grouchy?

'You're hurt.' Jason goes on to say, unperturbed by the storm he's about to weather

Everyone in the family startling because what?? When? How severe? But also just...how could Jason tell?

And Dick scowls, caught out.

'I'm not hurt.'

Only he is, because Jason scowls and bites back, 'I saw it.'

Which has Dick reeling because how?? He's completely covered. He didn't change with anyone around.

And then it's Jason's turn to get all !!! because he seriously noticed just because of how Dick was standing and the way his back looked through his shirt and somehow Jason's exposed himself in such a terrible way that he just - goes offline. Back to that other plane of existence because well, shit.

The most belated and petulant of, 'it doesn't matter.' before Jason starts fretting

Which makes Dick soften up a bit, because Jason being so caring is such a darling thing. ;3;

And then Dick twists and pulls up his shirt enough to show that he's fine, just bruised and a little swollen.

Jason being such a maiden that he has to look away because just that is too much SOS.

Then they get lost in the chitchats and Tim is still just standing there with his report on a very important case, existing entirely outside of Jason's rose-colored bubble and oh, how Tim wants to pop it so bad lol

[veryace-ficrecs]

Damian Wayne-Centric Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Damian's Secret Friend by LakeAwen - Rated G

5 times Damian's family panicked over him sneaking out, and 1 time they found out who he was meeting. OR The camera almost slipped from his hands. That was the demon brat. That was Damian. That was his grouchy kind-of baby brother hugging the Red-goddamn-Hood. Tim took a couple shots, because he was pretty sure he’d convince himself he was hallucinating if he didn’t have photo evidence. Definitely no one else would believe him. Tim thought he had contingencies for every possibility, but somehow none of those had included a scenario where Damian snuck out to eat Alfred’s butterscotch cookies with Red Hood.

I'll Only Say It When I Whisper by BrickSheep - Rated T

Red Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing end up kidnapped. Unfortuantely for their kidnapper, that means baby brother is on the case, full-on prepared to live up to the nickname hellspawn.

Paint the Town by YesAlways - Rated T

The boy became less and less recognizable the longer she grinned at him. There was still a familiar arrogance, but it was faded, stuck between previously unidentifiable traits. It slowly dawned on her that she had become so lost in her own frenzied world of pre-med and Batgirling that she only clocked the boy’s growth as Robin, hardly stopping to note the Damian growing underneath the mask. In no time, the boy once incapable of fun or any social interaction was volunteering at school for something the old Damian would have labeled completely trivial. Oh no, Stephanie was getting old.

Stephanie offers Damian help, which he actually accepts, sending her down an existential crisis.

A Child? On My Patrol? by Lilacs_and_the_sea - Rated G

“What…is that?” “That's a child, Robin,” Tim replies with amusement. “Well, obviously. But what am I supposed to do with him?”

Tooth and Claw by BrickSheep - Rated T

Damian is the only dragon that he knows of, but his mother tells him that things will be different one day. Unfortunately, his mother gets into an accident, and Damian is left alone in a forest. He eventually grabs the attention of the owner of the territory. Bruce Wayne.

Give Me Your Armor by Ellegrine - Rated T

No place is ever truly safe. Even knowing that, Damian feels safe in Wayne Manor. It has nothing to do with Grayson's presence.

Some Common Ground by Do_wa_diddy - Rated T

Once upon a time, Tim and Damian wanted each other dead. Now they're sure that the other is the only one that really gets it anymore. AKA Tim and Damian have the same trauma around training that they consider to be the norm and are glad to find another person who "trains like a normal person" instead of realizing that they're the outliers.

Like a Painted Canvas by Listentothelittlebird - Rated T

Damian has been revived. In the wake of his resurrection, he reflects on his past... and leaves Gotham. There are things to be done - mistakes that Damian needs to atone for. (This fic takes inspiration from Robin: Son of Batman, Year of Blood, but does not follow through with proper canon.) Rated T for descriptions of murdered skeletons, I guess

Thera-Pet by Jlynn105 - Rated G

Tim has a glorious idea and no one will convince him it isn't going to work. "I'm telling you, Titus could be easily trained to be a service dog." or Bruce convinces Damian to go on a summer camp trip with Jon and when he comes back Titus behaves...differently.

Erasers? by Fae_Winter - Rated G

Damian... could not tell you why erasers mean so much to him.

Car Wreck by Jlynn105 - Rated G

He was driving back home after going to dinner in town. The roads were completely shadowed and his headlights seemed to be combatting the Gotham fog. He went as close to the speedlimit as was reasonable given the weather conditions, when the unthinkable happened. A dog ran across the road. Or.... Damian gets very injured to stop himself from hurting a doggy. (Doggy is ok).

[Snow] Storms by Jlynn105 - Rated G

I wonder if it’s cold in Nanda Parbat. Damian often felt his thoughts wander back to home on nights when he was alone or not feeling his best. His eyes drifted to his balcony and he left the covers to go outside, where it was significantly colder given the snow, so that he could look up at the stars. or.. Damian has a flashback during a power outage and gets a hug.

Be My Cornerstone (So I Can Fly) by Nation_Ustria - Rated T

There are reasons that the dragons in legends always had hoards, or carried off maidens to keep for themselves. Dragons are possessive, carnal beasts, and imprint their magic on anything they desire, claiming it for themselves and themselves alone—and they viciously, violently tear apart anyone who try to take what is theirs. Damian is not a dragon. He has dragon blood, yes, meant to enhance his combat abilities, but Mother had used magic to ensure that he will never devolve into such a horrible beast. It’s one of the many reasons that he is suited to be Grandfather’s heir. The problem is that Damian can’t manage to stop claiming things for himself. Or, what happens when a baby dragon is taught to deny himself a process that is vital to a dragon’s emotional health and stability, and then gets thrown into a mess of a family where no one—not even himself, in a sense—knows that he’s a baby dragon.

Father's day by Vale_mlcek - Rated G

"And according to what school had taught him about what being a father meant, Richard fit all those characteristics: he cared for him, scolded him when he misbehaved, and supported him in everything that made him happy. Grayson was all of that, not Bruce." --> It's Father's Day, and Damian is thinking about what he could gift Richard.

Hypothermia by Jlynn105 - Rated G

Whumptober day 5- Every whumpees needs Damian is new to Gotham and misses having a parent who cares. Spoiler: he has one.

(wanderin’ free, wish i could be) part of your world by airyfaerie - Rated T

Confess, repent, atone. He labors in his efforts to abide by these three words. They’re his hope, his key to salvation, to turn over a new leaf and grow. To become a champion of life instead of a butcher. But Father sits comfortably on his throne fashioned by sanctimony and pietism as Damian's hands are sanded to the bone in an attempt to save all the lives he has encountered and his legs can't support the weight of the lives he has taken along with his verdict, heavy in its righteousness. Condemn, condemn, condemn are reflected in Father's ice cold irises as he scrambles to right his wrongs. No rest for the wicked. ** A hair salon can be seen as a communal rest stop on the road of life.

you stay soft, get eaten (only natural to harden up) by tsuchann - Rated G

The cat stared up at Damian with his trusting baby blues, his tail, a cheeto-puff orange as the rest of it’s tiny body, bounced absentmindedly. Damian brought his sword down it’s neck with a sickening precision, biting back the bile in his throat as the cat’s body fell to the floor near his feet. — Or, Damian encounters a sick kitten during patrol and is brought back to his first memory with a cat.

Hopping Around the Issue by simpliho - Rated T

The brightness forced Damian to turn his face away for a second. He heard a dull clatter, sounding concerningly like a bo staff being dropped onto the ground. When his vision recovered, he immediately looked back at the scene of the fight. Timothy was… gone. In his place there was a pile of clothing and possessions, reminiscent of the scenes of disappearances they’d been investigating… with a stunned-looking black rabbit in the middle. Damian and Tim are forced to go on patrol together, they separate and Tim gets turned into a bunny, and then they bond.

[absolutely-esme]

Hungry Monster Tim au part 4

part 1

Part 2

Part 3

First off, I have decided that one facet of Tim's hunger-based supernatural nature is being able to eat various things that humans probably shouldn't. This does not bypass the risks associated with him over eating, so he still has to be careful. He's never going to have an issue with food poisoning, not that this matters all that much, given that most toxins one encounters in Gotham are applied in other ways.

...

I have decided that Tim's friends from Young Justice know more about Tim's supernatural nature than almost anybody else.

These are the friends he hung out with for his crazy adventures outside the Bats' scrutiny. Lots of crazy stuff happened, and he did lots of crazy stuff and used his crazy powers.

Some of them have tried to convince Tim to eat various weird things to see what would happen (sometimes he did, if he was reasonably confident it wouldn't throw his metabolism out of wack).

At least two members of the team have a long-standing bet about what, precisely, Tim inherited his supernatural weirdness from and whether or not they will encounter it.

No adults will ever hear of Tim's supernatural weirdness from them. They ain't snitches. Tim is their weird, scrungly cryptid guy. Mind your business.

The Supercycle may or may not know more details than other members of Young Justice.

Young Justice know Tim primarily as a scrungly, half-feral mess who is perpetually tired and grouchy but cares a lot, and who will absolutely pick a fight with any fucked up magic thing that isn't his friend. They have seen him do some absurd things as challenges.

To them, Tim is mostly Regular Tim with occasional shifts into Feral Cryptid Tim. They know of Emotional Support Tim, but just think of it as another weird thing Tim does sometimes. It tends to weird them out more than Feral Cryptid Tim, honestly.

Klarion is a bit less of a serious threat and a bit more the guy that they rib about "the incident." Klarion still messes with them, but makes a point not to stand too close to Tim.

If Tim still has a bad timeline evil future self, it's not Gun Batman.

[clownwhims]

Just wanted to say thank you guys for all the support <3 you guys are literally so kind, and i love posting on here :] anyways !! today, i have some grouchy tim !

[suzukiblu]

spare KonBart 🤲🤲

“Get back to me when your refractory period’s done wasting my time,” he retorts impatiently, then shoves up tight against Cassie–tight as he can get with his dick still in Kon and Kon’s dick still in her–and kisses her again, and she reflexively slings her free arm around his neck as everything goes crackling and electric and Speed Force-golden, and she feels his hands absolutely everywhere on her body. 

And very obviously just her body, and nowhere on Kon’s at all. Or Tim’s, but that’s obviously not related to the kink thing, that’s just not overstimulating the baseline human who gets grouchy when he gets touched-out. 

Bart not touching Kon, though, like he’s not relevant to what they’re doing here at all, like it doesn’t matter if anyone does . . .