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Wedding night

(Part 1) (Part 2)

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Pride month, Gotta write some Kate and Tim

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I look gay af and no one around can even appreciate it 💔

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AAAAAH- I just realized the Stephanie Brown oneshot I wrote was very cis normative even though i tagged it a general wlw :[ I will try to tag and describe the readers I'm writing better! Or make other versions in the future 🤔 I apologize! This is a trans inclusive blog and I'm so down to write stuff that's more general or specifically for trans readers in the future

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Praying you drop that JPV x Reader fic

Here you go anon <3

It's not too long but maybe I'll follow it up and take pity on the poor reader that expects to get anywhere with JPV

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Meet-Cutes are No Match for the Socially Inept

Jean-Paul Valley/reader Gender neutral reader Pre-Azrael Takes place in the 90's 730 words

You’ve seen him before.

Long, shaggy blonde hair. Circular glasses that don’t fit his rather large frame. He sits in the corner of the university’s computer lab.

Two other students are here, but they’re more focused on chatting with each other than getting any actual work done. Unwise considering you had to reserve a place in advance. In a few minutes, their hour was up. It was going to be just you and tall, blonde, and nerdy.

You attempt to focus on your work, maybe in an insecure way, to try not to look like the other two. Especially since your crush was always diligently typing away at whatever class work he was doing.

The two other’s computers log out at 5:30 and they notice. Picking up their bags and leaving, continuing to chat away. It seems their misuse of a study session didn’t matter much to them. You stand up as well, though not to walk towards the door.

“Hey.”

You engage first. He doesn’t budge.

A flash of irritation hits you from being seemingly ignored, but you continue. Maybe he was just in the zone from studying.

“Hey, uh, blondie?”

His body tenses up, then slowly he looks behind himself and up towards you.

His expression looks… confused. It’s only a for a moment before he ‘steels’ himself. It’s not a serious expression. You think, instead, he’s trying to (poorly) feign a neutral one. His eyes can’t seem to land on you, flickering between you and the wall.

“Hey?”

It’s less of a question and more of an unsure response

He turns his head to scope the room, and realizes you two are the only ones in here. Your irritation from earlier disappears and settles into something more… excitable.

“I see you in here a lot.”

“Oh uh, yeah?”

Awkward pause.

You inwardly sigh. It’s okay.

Maybe he sucks at talking but it just makes you want to push him harder. You introduce yourself and ask him a simple question.

“I was wondering… what’s your major? Not everyone here needs to use the lab this much.”

He seems to relax, but only slightly. He must have realized this is just small talk. That’s how you wanna start it, at least.

“I’m Jean. It’s uh, computer science, I’m studying it, I mean,” he answers much too hastily. His sentence stilted in bursts of short information. The slurred combination of words sound more like ‘commuter-since.’ You stand there a bit confused, but eventually you can figure it out from the context clues. Plus, you finally got a name!

“Ohhhh, that makes so much sense. That’s really cool, not everyone gets how computers work yet. People think it’s all just one button and the machine does the rest, but there’s a lot of logic put into it.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Another pause of silence.

Despite how dry he is, you still want to push things along.

“Yknow, I’m trying to get into medical coding myself.”

The common ground makes Jean’s eyes soften just slightly behind the thick lens of his glasses.

“That’s- really cool. And helpful.”

He takes a moment to look away from you before continuing, as if staring at you too long was like looking at a bright light.

“Youd probably be set after university too. I have no idea what I’m doing.” He cringes.

“Hey- that’s okay. That’s what college’s for, right?” You attempt to reassure him, and he eases again. Alright, perfect, time to make your move.

“You know, I’ve been having a bit of trouble studying some languages, maybe you can help.”

You look at Jean expectantly, which he responds to with a red face and wide eyes. Cute.

“Me? I don’t know, I’m not a good teacher-“

“No really!” You insist.

“I think it would benefit the both of us if we could study together. Here’s my AIM,” you pass him a sheet of paper ripped straight from your notebook. Okay, maybe you were being too eager now, but you only asked for a study session.

He takes it between his fingers and eyes the slip of ripped paper like it’s got the world’s deadliest secret on it.

“Uh-“ he sits up, pocketing the paper quickly, “thank you. It was nice meeting you!”

Jean walks out of the computer lab hastily, the time reserved on his computer not even finished.

Did you come on too strong?

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I will get to jpv eventually but I’ve been writing a sort of coming of age fic for Tim featuring an AU where he quits after Bruce is found and goes on a trip with Cassie (Sandsmark)

He hooks up with a guy but it’s not a previously established love interest and it’s mostly just character study so idk if this is really for anyone but me lmaoo

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I know fanfic is meant to be self indulgent but every time I try to write fic of a reader trying to hit up Jean-Paul Valley he rejects/fumbles them with the same awkwardness as canon

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I was going to make a joke post titled 'how the batfamily fumbles you' in the same vein as scenario blogs but then I got to Cass and it got... too real.

So now we have this little one-shot <3

She looks at you like you're under a spotlight. Her eyes darting from your hands to your mouth.

"But it still hurts, doesn't it?" She offers her simple response.

How did she know? She brings her hands to your shoulder and rubs the back of it soothingly. You come undone before her, tears spilling. She knows you so well, you think. No one can see through you like she does.

You miss that spotlight.

Three hours since you've called her and thirty minutes since you texted. You don't want to seem needy. The few times you had seen her the past couple of months, she came back with scars and bruises.

"Injuries from dancing, or parkour," she tells you.

You wouldn't know if she was telling the truth, you haven't seen her in over two weeks now. It almost feels as if she wasn't real. That your meeting with her was just an illusion. Something you came up with because you were feeling lonely.

She had told you she was excited to spend more time with you, then she cancels last minute. A one word text where you can't hear her. She can't feel you.

You find yourself wandering outside at the dead of night- a terrible idea for someone living in the heart of Gotham. It's the rainy season too, and it's hopelessly foggy outside.

You'd like to make it to the club. Your shoes march right into a pothole, chilling your soles, but you feel too stubborn to give up now. It's imperative that you have fun without her, and forget the way she can read you so clearly, like no one else.

Trying to dry your shoe in the club bathroom goes awry, the lights flicker and screams from outside pierce through the bathroom door. No windows. You hide in the stall.

When you hear the door creak open you think, 'this is it.'

Plenty of Gothamites have been hospitalized or worse from a shooting or terrorism or 'super villainy.' You were going to be another name in the newspaper, all for a little night out.

A figure undoes the lock of your stall somehow. You want to hide your face, escape your fate, but you're too curious. You peek between your fingers, though can't make them out, they blend with the shadows.

"Shh," the figure hushes you, though you haven't said anything, "re-lock the door. Stay here."

Before it moves away, it utters an apology and rubs your shoulder, soothingly.

Then she disappears.

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been sitting on a no capes birdflash AU where Wally becomes a forensic chemist through Barry's guidance but ends up in Bludhaven due to some other recent grad having slightly better luck with nepotism and meets cop Dick who wants to one day work up to becoming a detective and is wise beyond his years through Bruce's involvement trying to uplift Gotham and his relationship with Barbara

Dick is intense and charismatic, and Wally is told to be a little bit wary of him if he comes to him because Dick is perceived as trying to get ahead of everyone and solve things himself. The other cops also aren't too fond of Dick due to his upbringing- something Wally thinks will be a problem for him too, but the two end up becoming friends and Wally does indeed end up helping Dick figure out leads to a case that they find out the precinct doesn't want them to know...

however I'd have to come up with a mystery for the two of them to solve and that takes a while lmao

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while i'm spamming my first few posts i gotta say:

it's like, completely impossible for me to write anything with alpha/beta/omega dynamics without having a reference/full dissertation about how alpha/beta/omega society works in a separate document. there's just so much you gotta do to fill in the universe- and a lot of people have so many different takes.

the whole paired bonding and knotting comes second to how much a secondary gender affects your primary gender and what kind of role within the hierarchy you would be viewed in socially.

also figuring out what each character's scent smells like, obviously.

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obvi objectification and dirty talk is a thing and its a thing im definitely not above but sometimes i read smth for a character with it and im like 'he's too nice to say that :['

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I'm honestly way more horny about barabara gordon, but stephanie has the personality of most girls i've dated so she's easier for me to write lmaooo

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Stephanie Brown/Fem!Reader Oneshot - 959 words Rating: Mature College buddies, cisfem reader, a little bit of comphet and unrequited worry, fingering, silly banter

"'m tired..."

You mumble the words, your cheek against the sheets of the bed you failed to make this morning. Her hand trails up your side. She's eager. You can tell from the way she walks her fingers back and forth, treading your skin like earth.

"I just wanna cuddle," she says.

You had invited her over to your dorm for a study session, except you were also two drinks and half a blunt into the night, and now your thoughts had mellowed out into a comfortable hum. Between classes and a busy shift at work, you were ready to zonk out.

Maybe. The truth is, there's a lot the human body can put up with when it's sufficiently horny enough.

It wouldn't have been the first time you slept around with her. One fateful study session half a month past breaking up with her boyfriend (romantic) and she decided she needed to get to know you better than her other girlfriends (platonic).

"Who needs men anyway?" She asked cheekily as she fingered you on her lap. Your legs were resting, ironically, between your anatomy textbook and a set of neatly penned flashcards. Maybe she's bisexual, but you had remained a friend when the next guy rolled around.

Right now she's in a dry spell, so here you are.

"I'm pmsing. I taste like blood right now."

"Better than some how guys taste."

You're not sure that's true, but you haven't gone far enough with a guy to know for sure.

Your attempt at convincing her otherwise falls flat as she presses a soft, hungry kiss against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Her nails scratch lightly on your sides again as she slips behind you to spoon.

The little twin mattress creaks as she shifts her weight. She's warm, warmer than the school's radiator has ever gotten you these past months. She mimics her boyfriend and her legs slap against yours, rubbing nothing but bare pelvis on your ass. You blush anyway.

"If you're sore baby, I can help."

She's not facing you, but you can already imagine the lopsided smile on her face, spitting out a line like that. It's so friendly outside of the dorm. Baby, honey, sweetie- your mutual friends laugh. She grins making eye contact with you, knowing no one questions it. You enjoy the thrill of it in public, but you like it better when it's just for you.

That's how you learned, even when she's joking, she means it.

Fingers dig into your breasts like they're clay. Pottery was an art credit you realized you were shit at, but you imagine she'd be much better. She draws a moan out of you, her hand slowly trailing up your body, pinching the tip of your breasts, and kneading. Her other hand presses your leg backwards, moving your thigh between each of hers. Her legs are muscular. You've never seen her work out more than jogging a little. She tells you she has a special workout late at night at some points of the week. You've asked if that was a euphemism, but you're starting to think she wasn't just fucking with you.

Your hair mixes with her golden locks when you lean your head back against her shoulder. Sitting up slightly, she looks down at you, flint blue eyes studying your features. Boldness finds you when you reach a hand up to thread through her bangs.

"Do I feel good?"

It's not a question someone asks unless they were explicitly looking for validation. For a moment she places her confidence onto you, and like the masochist you are, you tell her yes, returning the reigns to her.

Leaning down, she traces the shell of your ear with her tongue and talks low and sexy, balanced out with a giggle. She's not taking herself too seriously, but it's not condescending. She likes this, and she likes you. You briefly wonder how many guys have gotten the same treatment.

That thought erases itself when her left hand dips low into your pajama shorts. It's warm between your thighs, and even warmer under your panties.

"I'll take care of you if you won't."

It's a dare.

Your lips latch onto the underside of her neck, pulling the thin flesh between your teeth. Her jaw moves above you, and you revel hearing her breath halt. You hope someone sees it. You hope she doesn't cover it up.

Her middle finger pushes between your folds and directly against your clitoris. Your legs flutter like wings and she cages you in as you readjust.

"Straight to the point tonight?"

"I told you I wanted to take care of you."

The feeling of her chest rising and falling beats steady behind you.

"You get off on this, you- you meanie."

She snorts into your hair, but doesn't stop the pace of her hand. Then she moves to kiss your forehead, half sweet, half patronizing.

"Of course I get off on it. No one else gets riled up like you do."

You wish you could say you lasted a little longer, but she's gotten used to figuring out the rhythm you respond to best. Softening under her, she relaxes in kind. Your breathing is nearly twice as fast as hers, and you create a tempo with her.

"Do you like me Steph?"

You ask, facing the chipping wall of your dorm. Your eyes scan the shapes like they can tell you the future, but her answer comes much too soon for you try and get ahead of your expectations.

"Of course I do."

Your breathing slows to the same speed as hers, but you're just as nervous.

"Do you like me?"

Behind you, she pulls you tighter to herself.

"Yeah, I do."

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Believe it or not, this is a writing blog about kissing fictional dudes, dames, and beyond

My name is August, I'm 26, and I want to write more as a hobby, so what better way than to post the most self-indulgent bullshit I barely edit in my notes app to the larger internet.

I like reading all sorts of literature and I'm free to talk about that on top of the fan stuff!