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hurlingdown · 26 days ago

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❛ FUCK YOU LIKE . . . AN ANIMAL ?! ❜ — NANAMI KENTO.

synopsis. your husband nanami kento has always secretly prided himself on being the one to tame you. but what happens when you, a fully grown werewolf, gets exposed to the full moon while curse hunting together in an abandoned building? spoilers: you chase, he runs. wc. 2.9k

tags. top werewolf reader, bottom! nanami. reader has a cock. bit of sub top / dom bottom dynamic. monsterfucking, rimming, anal sex, male squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dry orgasm, creampie, knotting, biting, stomach bulge, flavoured lube, praise kink (reader receiving), breeding kink, nanami gets his ass eaten for 2k.

Full moon. That only meant one thing.

“Kentoo,” you crooned, and it sounded strange with your fangs growing and getting in the way, words forming in low gurgles. “I'm getting bored. Come out and play with me.”

You could hear his breathing sounds all the way down the hallway: the vague inhale, the hurried exhale. Second or third door to your right, probably under a desk, with his hands clamped over his mouth. He was hiding. From you.

You could feel your innards metamorphosing, heat boiling low in your core, resisting the urge to rip off all your clothes and bask in the silver light streaming through the broken window that had caused this mess in the first place. Dark grey fur had burst through your skin moments before at first contact with the full moon—your legs bowing back, bones crackling, the rest of your body except for your face shifting into some sort of hybrid between beast and man.

You gave in to the instinct to hunch over, like a predator stalking prey. And maybe you were.

“Kento?” you called out, an innocent and curious lilt to your voice, pretending that you didn’t already know his whereabouts. “Are you…” You pushed open the first door to your right, a creak resounding in the abandoned building, a stark contrast to your light and silent footsteps. “Here?”

Nanami’s breath quickened, and so did his heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump. You wanted to eat him.

“Kento… come on, it’s not that funny anymore…” you mumbled, the exaggerated pout clear in your voice, retreating from the empty room and slowly making your way to the second door. “I miss you a lot…”

The second room was also empty. You pretended to sigh despite the excited twitch in your pants as you caught a whiff of his mouth-watering scent, sharp and clean and masculine—not something that alphas would go for typically, but to you, it was ecstasy. You licked your lips in sweet anticipation, sauntering over to the third and final door.

“There’s no need to hide, y’know… we’d be so good to you.” Half of that was a lie. You were going to press him into the ground and defile him the moment you get your hands on him, submitting to your instincts to mate and breed—if the huge, excited bulge at the front of your trousers wasn’t enough proof of that. “Tell me, are you—”

You flung the door open.

“—here?”

The wind rustled through the half-opened window on the other side, but the room was… empty, to your surprise. Nanami had probably escaped through the same window, but that wasn’t all. Surely enough, lying under a desk near the wall, was your husband’s yellow spotted tie, neatly folded and left in his place to taunt you.

“Kento,” you growled, displeasure coursing through you, but you bent down to pick up the tie, bringing it up to smother your face, breathing heavily in the lingering scent. Delicious. You would have your revenge.

You ended up stalking your way back home, following the trail of his scent, cock straining against the fabric of your pants, swollen and heavy and painful, like the rest of your body. You had discarded your shirt somewhere on the road, your body overheating too much to care about being shirtless in public.

Sweat trickled down your back and shoulders, your scent glands dripping with fragrant oil at the back of your neck. The moon was right behind you, and your awaiting prey was right inside the house before you. You would have him, finally. He would be yours.

The door was already open when you reached it, the strong, assured scent of your mate safely resting inside your territory making you giddy with pride, a constant subvocal growl ringing at the back of your throat. “Kento…” you warbled, making your way up the stairs towards your shared room. “Ten seconds. And then I’m coming in.”

“... It’s alright,” a muffled voice said, coughing lightly. “I’ve already… prepared myself.”

And that was the only green light that you needed.

You snarled, leaping up the remaining flight of stairs and slamming into the doorframe, the door forcefully bursting open. You could hear his choked-up gasp before you laid your eyes on him. His goggles were removed and lying beside him on the nightstand, and you salivated at the sight of his mostly naked body, blue dress shirt unbuttoned and a breeze away from slipping off the shoulders that you so desperately wanted to sink your teeth into.

“Mate,” you purred, eyes trained onto his hard, leaking cock against his stomach as you palmed yourself through your pants. “My mate.”

Nanami visibly swallowed, backing up against the bedframe, his hips lifting slightly to show you the efforts he had made to please you. A pink, puffy asshole, stretched wide enough that you could see the lube trickling out from within.

“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning his head back to expose his throat, an act of submission that he knew would make you feral. “All yours. Come n’ get me.”

You growled louder, stalking forward on your hands and knees.

He feigned composure, despite the fact that you could hear his heart pounding wildly from where you were, the slight hitch in his breath that gave away his fear and uncertainty. Keeping his eye contact with you, he reached between his legs to stroke his cock slowly, pumping pre-cum out. “Oh… yes. Reminds me. Did you bring my tie back?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching back to pull out his tie from your pocket, albeit it was crumpled and soaked in your drool. He winced at its poor state, taking it from you anyway.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “... Always so good.”

You crooned at the praise, climbing onto the bed with little grace and crawling between his parted thighs, immediately nuzzling affectionately into his neck, jaw firmly snapped shut despite your instincts telling you to bite. “... I caught you.”

“You caught me,” Nanami echoed, looking at you—this version of you—with an expression no less than tender. You were somewhat larger than him, now, and certainly not human, staring down at him with golden, eerie eyes, hungry and strange, and he stared right back into them, unfazed.

All of this was making you hungry. You bared your teeth as you leaned in again, wanting to mark him up as yours already.

“Later,” he chided, pushing your face away, and then reached over to pull your swollen cock out from your trousers, calloused hands thumbing gently at the tip. “This first.”

“Okay,” you groaned, the small amount of pleasure already making it hard to focus, warmth stirring in your abdomen. It was funny how you had promised yourself you would ruin him the second he was in your hands, but now that he was, you didn’t even bother to resist his command. “Anything you want.”

You smiled innocently, and you watched as his gaze softened, features relaxing.

He let go of you to turn around, knowing that you preferred it when he was presenting as an omega werewolf would, but you grabbed his ankles, grip tight and keeping him in place. “No.” You shook your head, frowning. “I’m not—not fucking any omega. I’m fucking you tonight, Kento.”

Nanami made an appreciative noise at the back of his throat, almost a whine if you didn’t know any better. “That’s... good. That’s very good,” he says, breathless. “Fuck me, then.”

You slid your hands up his bare thighs, the tender touch making him shiver, before you cupped the back of his knees, very, very slowly pushing them against his chest until he was one press away from being bent in half. His eyes were sharp, trained onto your every movement, but you could feel the intensity resting within, the heat and desire, the impatience.

You wanted to play with him, so very badly.

“What are you—” He let out a choked groan at the first swipe of your tongue against his hole, hand shooting forward to grip the fur at the top of your head tightly. “—hngh.”

You sucked wetly at his rim, tasting the flavoured lube that you had jokingly got him as an anniversary gift, tangy and disgustingly sweet. Fuck. You were drooling already.

“Kento,” you whined, burying your face between his asscheeks as your tongue slowly breached and unbreached him, careful not to graze him with your fangs. “Tastes so good. Wanna eat you.”

What the fuck. Eat him? Did he hear you correctly?

And he might just be too worked up, but why did it feel thicker and longer than usual?

“Don’t—lie,” he gasped out, struggling not to rut up against your hot mouth, to take you deeper inside his hole. “I chose the- the worst flavour possible.”

“It’s you,” you murmured, crooning with delight as his hands moved to spread himself open for you, further exposing his sensitive hole. “You always taste so good, no matter what. You always smell good, too.”

“You sure talk a lot,” he grits out, stifling a moan. “For someone who promised to fuck me.”

You bit down a smirk at how subtly eager he was being. “I’ll get to that, don’t worry. Just—this first. Please?” He scowled at the fact that you were using his words against him so sweetly, but he relented silently, pushing his hips towards your face as you slid a pillow under the small of his back, immediately returning to stretching him open with your tongue.

“Oh—”

His lips parted to let out a deep, sexy groan as you jabbed at his prostate, not once, but twice, and you kept going, enjoying the sight of your mate falling apart.

“Fuck.” His thighs were trembling, his head thrown back at the intense pleasure, because no, you weren’t just eating him out, you were making out with his fucking asshole. Every lick and probe of your thick, thick tongue made stars explode before his eyes in the most insane way possible, touching him in places inside him that even he didn’t know existed.

That insatiable tongue of yours. Nanami couldn’t decide if he hated or loved it more. It was making these obscene squelching noises, with all the lube and saliva being pushed further into his hole with every wet thrust, making room for more. It didn’t help that you were a messy eater, smearing drool all over his ass and thighs, looking at him with such hunger that made him dizzy with desire.

My husband, who is a werewolf… is eating me out.

Nanami grabs his cock hurriedly, pumping it quick enough to chafe if it weren’t for pre continuously dribbling down the side of it, crying out hoarsely as one clawed finger rubbed on a specific spot on his perineum, stimulating his prostate from both ends.

“Haah, fuck, please—” he cried out, grip on your fur now tight enough that you could almost feel the strands being ripped from their roots. He couldn't wait anymore, he needed you now, and preferably inside him. “Fuck me. I said it. Please.”

To his absolute horror, you only growled into his hole in response, ignoring his pleas, too lost in the feeling of it clenching repeatedly around your tongue. The squelching sounds grew louder as you slurped him frantically. Everything he did only spurred you on, and you grabbed onto his hips with your claws to dig deeper.

“Ahh—haah, shit!” Nanami’s breath was laboured and shaky, eyes squeezed shut as he could do nothing but take you and everything else that you had to give him. “Please, sweetheart, feels too good... I’m gonna—ah, gonna cum, but I don’t want it t-to end like this, please. Want you inside me, not like this…”

He can’t possibly keep going, it’s not possible. He must be tired of it now, and even if not, his jaw should be—

He was shivering as the pleasure bordered on painful overstimulation, tears gathering in his eyes as he grabbed the base of his cock—fighting with everything not to cum, even as you snarled against his hole in sharp disapproval, showing your fangs. “No—listen to me—hnngh. Th-thought you were gonna give me—anything I wanted. Let me- let me make you feel good, too. D-don’t you want to knot me?”

Of course you wanted to knot him, keep him lodged on your cock for hours, days, for as long as he allowed you to. Breed him full of your puppies, even—make him carry them. But if he was using a brainless assumption like you not feeling any pleasure as a reason for you to stop, then he would have to try harder.

You forced your entire tongue inside his tight rim, as deep as you could reach, rubbing firm clockwise circles into his perineum.

Nanami was letting out a stream of the most unholy noises you had ever heard, whimpering lewdly as he could feel the cum bursting past the tight restriction his hand had formed around his cock. “Gonna cum—” he choked out, back arching and toes curling as he crammed his thighs hard around your head, your fangs digging into skin—making you see stars. “Oh, fuuuuck—”

He screamed out hoarsely as he came with violence, cock squirting everywhere, thick watery spurts painting his abdomen and both of your chests, with a few stray drops splattering onto his face and collarbones. You reached a hand out to hastily jerk him off while continuing to knead your tongue insistently on his sweet spot, wanting to milk his orgasm to the fullest—and he let out a dry, pathetic sob, orgasming for a second time, legs jerking as cum dribbled out from his spent cock.

He pushed a hand onto your face, shivering and shaking his head.

“F-fuck, puppy, no more.”

You pulled your tongue out from his hole as you panted, making him whine breathily at the sudden emptiness. The slip of his nickname for you had barely registered in your head, your eyes immediately zeroing in on his plump, heaving chest, now decorated with strips of his release. Almost as if you were possessed, you leaned down, drooling as you pressed fang-shaped hickeys into his muscled pecs while eagerly licking up his squirt and cum.

It was sweet. All of Kento was sweet, and you wanted more.

Nanami shuddered helplessly as you grazed his nipple with your sharp teeth before running your tongue over the abused nub, as though to apologise. This was… okay. It felt good, in a strange way. Soothing, even, especially after what you had done to him. That violent hunger, that insatiability. You were relentless.

But before he knew it, there was something thick and hard rubbing on his swollen entrance, something way too big to be considering intrusion.

“You said you’d let me knot you,” you mumbled, “Kento.”

He bit down a shudder, fighting down a wave of panic. “No. No, I didn’t say that—don’t twist my words. I asked if you wanted to knot me. Before I came.”

“Same thing,” you said, already pushing in—and he let out a barely audible cry, voice completely wrecked from all the begging earlier. “You said you want t-to make me feel good, right?”

“Yes, b-but that was then. It’s too- too sensitive now, at least give me some time—”

You groaned loudly as you bullied your way in with one strong thrust, burying yourself to the hilt inside his warm hole as his walls spasmed and tightened around you. “That’s more like it.”

Nanami was wrecked.

Tears were spilling down his cheeks, soft, overstimulated whimpers spilling out from parted lips as his cock twitched uselessly, trapped between you and the swell of his stomach.

“You… really don’t listen, do you…”

“Sorry,” you murmured, nuzzling his neck in apology. You didn’t sound sorry at all, and you knew it.

You gave a shallow, experimental thrust, the base of your cock already swelling heavily with knot, all worked up from all the noises your mate was making earlier. “Kento…” you moaned, sharp claws digging into his meaty thighs as you knot-fucked him deeper, making him take you all the way. “You’re making me feel so good…”

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into what seemed like hours of you fucking him into the mattress, wringing orgasm out of orgasm out of him as you fucked him through all three of your knots, each one bigger than the last.

He gave a feeble moan as your hips finally stuttered to a stop, letting your final knot catch. There was a bulge visible over his abdomen as you filled him up with the warmth of your seed, groaning loudly, and Nanami let out a soundless whine in return, hips bucking weakly as his cock jumped, no longer able to cum.

You grinned dopily, feeling pride surge through your chest. You were the one who had made him like this.

You were tired, and he was exhausted. The both of you were panting heavily, but it didn’t stop you from taking one long look at your mate, your husband, and feeling a surge of want, no, need—to kiss him. His tired eyes, his sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, all of it—fanged and brutal and loving.

Nanami’s trembling hand reached over to grasp your clawed one, entwining it with his in an intimate gesture. You watched carefully as he brought it to his face and gently pressed your ringed finger to his lips, eyes screaming out to you with an affection so intense it almost made you forget how to breathe. Take what you want, they were saying. Take what you want from me, and I’ll give you all that’s left.

Golden eyes gleaming in the dark, you returned his gaze with a similar one of your own.

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

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mejaydee · 1 year ago

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shir(ule)tless

#196 #rule #meme #is it a masculine urge or do other people feel it too?#it erases my body image issues for just a moment #I just feel so hot

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iceyrukia · 2 years ago

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men who do those stupid street racing/takeovers should get their driver’s licenses revoked permanently.

#ic.text #if you don’t know what that is you should look it up on YT and see how these idiots #do doughnuts right in front of open crowds #like men truly have little regard for human life and will do it just because they #have a urge to be reckless and dangerous for their masculinity #also fuck their loud ass cars too

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fondcrimes · 5 months ago

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the "labru chapter" is the kabru chapter

this is a dungeon meshi love manifesto, but not in the way you think. sorry not sorry for the labrubait

what makes chapter 76 so amazing is kabru’s desperation has little to do with laios specifically. it’s not just about kabru being obsessed with laios and making sure he doesn't cause tragedy, either. I think this chapter emphasizes kabru's struggle with the concept of love and companionship. the point of this chapter is that every critical part of kabru collides at once and renders him useless.

(disclaimer: this post includes a lot of projection/speculation but it's to understand kabru's character arc i promise. for clearer analysis and examination of how kabru's ideologies are constructed, check out this really great post)

kabru is a lone visionary

in ch 76, kabru’s threatened by lycion exposing his true intentions to laios not only bc he wants to prevent laios from joining marcille in her destruction, but also bc laios is also from a short-lived race and kabru needs an ally in his power struggle against elves (esp when the chips are down)

but has kabru really accepted his need for allies in his plight? kabru has spent his adult life suppressing a human urge to connect meaningfully with others. he even keeps rinsha et al. at arm's length in the name of achieving his masculine hero complex/survivor's guilt goals. he's already quite disillusioned bc most adventurers don't have the same goal as he does. so he uses people and gets on their good side for systematic support. he’s well-intentioned and takes care of his party. but the idea that an ally could also protect HIM and make HIM feel safe as well doesn’t really register with him until later on in the narrative bc camaraderie and allyship, at its core, is about acknowledging intimacy. kabru struggles with intimacy sub-textually (his self-neglect and social insincerity) even though he knows how to simulate it to gain others' trust.

but he can’t crack laios, he can’t get him to listen. for lack of a better word, kabru is spoiled by the fruits of his superb perception and emotional intelligence. he also doesn’t cope well with failure (bc his goal is too valuable to ~not~ devote himself to) he puts too much value in conquering laios and when he thinks he's failed, he basically crashes out. the real problem is he still doesn’t understand his true feelings--not feelings for laios, but the root of his desire. the root of his goals and the endless search for companionship.

kabru is a strategic historian

at his core, kabru is a storyteller. he tells himself a variety of stories about his trauma and his goals, which serve as motivation and to some extent, self-protection (as shown in his conversation w mithrun). he deeply understands the role of storytelling in regards to the construction of history and drastic shifts in power.

as an utayan, he understands that the tragedy that overcame his people was not random, but resulted from elven negligence of a disenfranchised people. it is imperative for kabru to cement himself as a voice for otherwise voiceless people. in his story, he has no choice but to handle the hero, if not become the hero himself.

kabru even has a story about his pursuit of laios, mainly that laios is currently the most capable person of defeating the mage and that he must do whatever it takes to ensure laios doesn’t fuck it up. his instincts are right, sure, but at first, he places special value in laios’ capabilities that almost seems unearned… like yes he’s studied the island adventurers with frightening expertise, so it makes sense he would have a good idea about who is the most equipped to succeed. but his early suspicions of the toudens seems to complicate my perception of his knowledge by adding emotional depth and a layer of tinhattery so to speak.

canonically, kabru has been rebuffed by laios multiple times (which is so... lolll) when he's talking with his party, kabru hides behind the excuse of dungeon but he’s been trying to get his attention this whole time. to me it reads like he's got a bruised ego from being ignored and is being a hater about it (so real lol). it's funny bc kabru is usually great at taking shit from others (esp elves) if it means nobody suspects/interrogates his true intentions and he can keep the peace. so why does laios tick him off so bad? now we have to get into the psychoanalysis of it all!

kabru is a cynic

first and foremost, kabru’s cynical philosophy about humans is challenged by the touden mission. but plenty of people don’t care about the impact of their actions, so why does kabru obsess over the toudens at the start? I figured kui changed gears with kabru's characterization following his introduction, but I want to try to connect it to kabru's unresolved survivor's guilt. kabru is the sole survivor of a catastrophe caused by negligence and oversight. he criticizes the negative impact of the toudens' generosity and naïveté and confirms his cynical worldview (the road to hell is paved with best intentions), but still maintains a level-headed perspective. on the other hand, kabru's interactions with laios are tinged with irrational jealousy/resentment/desperation, even prior to kabru learning laios' character/intentions as an adventurer. I cannot emphasize enough that I am employing a neutral definition of jealousy here--it seems kabru is jealous of the freedom to not care the way laios does not care about the fate of the island. this isn't to say laios doesn't care about humans, he does, but he seems so singleminded compared to kabru esp in ch 76. kabru sees laios going to the literal end of the world to save his sister. laios gets to be human selfishly, kind-natured but ultimately self-prioritizing.

kabru correctly assesses motives (besides his own maybe). falin said she’d do anything to protect laios and marcille. laios has been socially rejected by people his whole life, and at first, he only cares about his sister and monsters. kabru has survived horror but only by accident… he doesn't agree with their pov and more importantly, it doesn’t exactly compute with him. the toudens are wholly unaware of their impact, which does not sit well with kabru at all, who understands the impact of negligence better than anyone else, esp how it ends up harming the less fortunate and extremely marginalized in society. it's reminiscent of the age-old trolley problem. while kabru has been the victim of senseless pain, I suspect kabru can’t yet make sense of senseless love. he gets to look down at their cause and call it selfish because it directly contradicts his lived experience.

kabru is an ethicist with a heroic streak

it's easy to glean that kabru wants to be the hero utaya should’ve had. while he's hardcore and intense, but not paranoid enough to do something rash. he uses violence as a means of achieving peace. he's self-aware enough to know his skill limits, which seems rational at a glance but the pressure he puts on himself suggests he views himself as inadequate until he achieves his goal. the races of humans are so split up and he sees that this is a matter of power first and foremost.

with the canaries, kabru submits to political pageantry to make a separate case for innocent people. senseless tragedy is unforgivable, but so is the "too little too late" reality of the canary system. he takes on the impossible task of rallying people together to save the dungeon. one read is that he's saving his childhood self from trauma perhaps by saving those like him… he's wishing someone did something before it got bad, wondering why nobody intervened when they had every opportunity to step in. it’s deeper than a sense of duty or fairness, this is about betrayal and retribution.

throughout his life, kabru struggles with the material inequity and limits of love. the human population is fundamentally segmented into a hierarchy due to lifespans and access to power/resources. his mother was the only one who loved him in utaya and she was ostracized because of his appearance and then she was killed due to senseless tragedy. his frustration with the elves encapsulates this idea perfectly, because he is aware of of the limits of their empathy as a long-lived race and adjusts his strategy and rhetoric accordingly. I think milsiril’s love for kabru is genuine, but still infantilizing and smothering due to the racial imbalance. this continues to inform his politics, as he views their perception of short-lived races with contempt. the worst offense is that their bigotry is nonsensical, meaning their hearts cannot be reasoned with.

dungeon meshi is a story about power and politics, yes, but genuine love and acceptance are the catalysts of change and equality. the "invisible gulf" that marcille is referring to is the inability to view other races with love and care. such is the essence of camaraderie. kabru's backstory, family history, and beliefs/motivations raise two important questions for me: who gets to be loved enough to survive, and then to thrive?

kabru is a monster

the emphasis on distinguishing between humans and monsters is quite interesting too. of all sentient beings, who qualifies as worthy of "human" treatment? who deserves empathy and acceptance? kabru seeks these answers to fix the world, but also to justify his place in it.

kabru's lack of self-worth is evident here, but what’s more interesting is he knows many humans suffer worse fates than some monsters. the dehumanization/neglect of fellow humans does not compute, if the premise is humans are superior to demi-humans/non-humans because mutual empathy and understanding. he clings to the superiority of humanity as an appeal to ethos to those in power despite what he might actually believe about himself. to kabru, the true injustice is that humans won’t even save “inferior” humans despite being the same. his unclear heritage manifests as guilt, as he feels directly responsible for his mother's suffering because he is monstrous. then here comes laios, a human who somehow can find it in himself to love monsters.

kabru doesn’t want laios to love him, per se, but laios’ love for monsters and for falin reveals life-altering possibilities for kabru: there is a world where someone could love him even if he were a monster. there is a world where somebody would go to extreme measures just to save him. kabru does not know the extent of laios' trauma but recognizes a sort of kindred spirit but inverse. taking off the ship goggles here--it has less to do with laios specifically, and more to do with what his beliefs/abilities represent for the trajectory of the world (because kabru studies how beliefs/abilities manifest into material reality, after all)

kabru is seeking the power of love

in a different story, kabru would be laios’ archnemesis. they would have a disastrous battle of opposing worldviews in their struggle for dominion. kabru has every right to want to take laios out bc while his affinity for monsters is sympathetic and even charming, it is still a natural threat… kabru has the true hero pathology. he believes he only deserves to live if he can save people for a variety of reasons/traumas. he should do whatever it takes to exterminate laios. but the expectation is subverted in chapter 76 bc we see kabru’s curiosity and ongoing quest for understanding win over his worst fears.

I feel like I’ve been projecting a lot but bear with me... a huge part of kabru’s character is him trying to figure out how to matter to people, or figuring out why people matter to others in general. it’s not to say he doesn’t matter to his friends or milsiril, but why else would he bother with all the manipulative people-pleasing? it would be less meaningful if he had ulterior motives like greed or power, but he plays into people's expectations/desires for a disastrously noble cause. he’s still actively living in his trauma as a deeply traumatized adult. it’s pure serendipity that laios can send him right back to his past and then pull him right out again. I don't think it's crazy to say kabru (correctly) projects a lot of shit on laios bc he doesn’t know how to deal with those injustices and barriers between people himself.

this is also why I believe kabru's beef with laios is as personal as it is strategic. we have to consider the trajectories of their character arcs (their big missions, respectively) in relation to one another as foils. if laios' love for falin can move mountains and do impossible things, kabru is subconsciously drawn to the magnitude of that love like a magnet. his response to cognitive dissonance is quite remarkable as well. at the root of his unbelievable capacity for understanding and curiosity is the deep wound of being unloved and unprotected. kabru does not avoid or run away from his fears, he quite literally keeps running toward them and follows it down to hell. he wants to identify the true source of his deepest wound.

to me, this omake connects his childhood curiosity to his search for love, almost as to ask “is there enough room for me to be loved?" and the same can be said for marcille's character arc/ backstory. her biracial heritage has caused her great existential pain and social isolation.

in dungeon meshi, the issues of protection and justice continue to be interpreted through love. if kabru were to go back in time and save utaya, he would’ve needed incomprehensible magic, a supernatural power to save himself, his mother, his hometown. in contrast, laios' mission to save falin is just one manifestation of the surreality of love, all of the impossibilities it permits. the touden party wade through invisible gulfs to save falin, but also each other. kabru doesn’t hate their story, he just can’t fathom it yet.

kabru is a skilled strategist and communicator. and does not listen to his heart or body until he’s absolutely forced to do it. he has insane goals and expectations for himself and will go to great measures for those goals. as cerebral and cold as he might seem, it’s critical to understand that his character arc is about love too. in my opinion, it’s almost as if he’s trying to change his reality in hopes of finding love. my favorite thing about kabru is that he has all the narrative makings of the perfect misunderstood villain who self-destructs at the end of the story. but kabru is too smart for that, too focused on the big-picture impacts and the historical trajectory of the cause. instead, kabru finds the wherewithal to stand down once he understands that laios is capable of loving humanity like he does, or that he could help him see the value in humanity at all.

to love is to understand, and then to surrender.

#dungeon meshi #kabru #kabruganda #labru #dungeon meshi meta #long post #dungeon meshi spoilers #hits post and runs away #unfortunately everything is about love to me #mine

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strawberrypoundtown · 4 months ago

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Hi! I’m a big fan of your work and your writing style.

If you’re still open to prompts(no worries if not):

Perhaps an incubus who falls in love with it’s mark, and struggling to remain composed or ‘professional’ due to their feels?

Please and thank you ❤️

(Omg I love this idea. Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like what I did with it! I'm so sorry this took so long to complete. I wanted to try and do something different with this one to experiment a bit more. Any advice or critique is welcome 😁 I do want to make a part 2 for this eventually, but I honestly have no idea when I'll actually be able to write it. Until then, any ideas for the 2nd part (or a name for him) are more than welcome! Without further adieu, please enjoy the show! - 🍓)

Incubus x Fem!Reader

After starting work at a new office, you've been trying to ignore your incubus coworker and his countless attempts to invite you into the supply closet, or his home after work hours. It's not until he admits that he doesn't just want a one-night stand that you might give him a chance...

Contains: tentacles, sexual tension, bondage (tentacles), gagging, grinding

This wasn't supposed to happen. It never took him more than a few days to convince someone to go home with him. Usually, he was able to do it in a matter of hours, and they ended up bent over his desk. Why were you so difficult? You were just a human. The most beautiful human he had ever seen walk into the office, but just a human either way.

Then why did you turn him down everytime he even walked up to you? Sure he had a rep, but it was a good one. A lot of the other girls at the office considered him good for stress relief, so why wouldn't you let him show you that? Or more importantly, why did he care so much that you kept rejecting him? He couldn't wrap his head around it. He had been rejected in the past and was never all that affected by it. But why did your rejections hurt so badly?

He couldn't feed on anyone else until he had you. The thought of feeding on anyone but you made him feel nauseous. Everyone else smelled terrible in comparison. He even almost gagged once when he was in a morning meeting, and you had called in sick.

You were like a breath of fresh air, and your kindness towards everyone in the office since you arrived made him annoyed. Some of the other monsters in the office were starting to flirt with you after you had rejected him the first time. It made him so angry that you were torturing him like this.

He was done with the casual approach at this point. He couldn't stand having people look at you like he did. He wanted you all to himself, at least for one night. He isn't supposed to get attached to his marks, but he couldn't help it. You had ruined him by simply existing. Everyone he looked at that could be a potential mark were nothing compared to you. They didn't have your body, your voice, your eyes, your smile, or your scent. He just wanted to drown himself in you just once to purge his urges at least, but you wouldn't let him do that.

But today was different. He had a plan. Your team had a short meeting that morning, and he had pretended to leave first, instead waiting outside the door until everyone else had left. He noticed you always stayed back for a few moments to yourself for whatever reason, often just cleaning, but this time, you were going to be staying back for another reason.

All of a sudden, he heard giggling from inside. Your giggling. It was followed by a masculine laugh and the disgusting scent of werewolf flooding his senses. He growled and peered through the crack in the door to see you smiling and giggling with a werewolf that sat next to you during the meeting. His claws dug into the doorframe as he tried to listen in while looking at you through the crack in the door.

"Oh, you're too funny." you said with a sigh, wiping a tear from your eye as you stared up at the handsome young werewolf.

"Why, thank you (Y/n). I take pride in my sense of humor." he said with a cocky smile, leaning into your space as he spoke.

"You should. I always laugh when we talk." You said softly with a sweet smile, seemingly leaning towards him as well.

"Well, how about I get you to laugh later tonight? Why don't we grab drinks after work tonight? There's a bar near my place..." he proposes to you with a smile, his fangs bared.

The door suddenly swung open before you could even contemplate an answer.

"There's a bright yellow sport car in front of the building getting towed. You better go get it, dog." The incubus growled through grit teeth, glaring into the werewolf's eyes.

"Son of a bitch... I'm so sorry, I gotta go. Think about what I said. I'll be expecting your answer after lunch." Ths werewolf softly purred to you before quickly walking outside the room. The incubus wasted no time and swung the door closed, letting it slam.

"What was that about? Coming to try snd get in my pants again?" You spat before rolling your eyes and starting to organize your papers. Gods, you were such a feisty human sometimes. He loved that about you.

"Technically yes." He chuckled, the rumble in his chest more appealing than you'd care to admit. "I didn't want anyone else around."

"I know you won't do anything unless I give my consent." You said bluntly as you tapped your papers together and tucked things away. You knew incubus couldn't do anything without some kind of genuine verbal permission.

"What? Oh fuck no. Nothing like that... Jesus christ, who do you take me for?" He sounded offended as one of his hands came up over his heart.

"A horny incubus that won't leave me alone." You groaned as you turned towards him, going to walk around him. Suddenly, his arm shoots out, blocking your path as he plants his hand on the wall. His claws were peaking out and leaving marks on the wall.

"You don't understand." He growls, a bit harsher than intended before he inhales deeply, trying to calm down as he runs a hand through his hair between his horns. "Once I have my target set on a mark, I can't change it unless they reject me."

"Then why do you keep coming back? I've rejected you so many times... Don't you have plenty of other girls that would be more than willing to give you a snack?" You pointed out how many women were always hanging all over him. It made you sick. Of course you wanted to fuck the hot incubus in the office, but you know yourself. You don't like to share. You like having a partner that's yours and yours alone.

"No. I've never encountered anyone that makes me feel like this..." He leans in towards your face and softly sniffs the air. "You smell so good... I can't think of feeding on anyone else right now... I think I just need a taste... just one night..." His voice is dripping in a pleading tone, bartering, but practically begging for you.

"I can't do that." You said bluntly as you avoided eye contact with him. The heat pooling in your panties didn't help your faltering moral defenses. You knew better. You had to stay firm. Firm like the bulge forming in his dress pants...

"Please?" His deep desperate voice broke you out of your daze as you softly gasped, trying to pretend to be offended instead of turned on as your face turns red and you glare into his eyes.

"N-no! I'm not interested in having a one night stand with you!" You barked, your chest heaving as you stared up at him. Your heart raced as you took in his appearance unintentionally. He was tall and slender, with sharp features. his typically carefully slicked back hair was a bit disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration. His horns were short and blunt usually, but you could see them growing by the moment. In fact, it seemed like his entire frame was growing.

"Oh." He purred. "I get it now." A wicked grin spread cross his face as you tried your best to maintain an annoyed expression. "You haven't been rejecting me because you don't want to sleep with me."

"What?" You jaw slacked open as you looked up at him in shock. "Why else would I be rejecting you?"

"You've been rejecting me because you want me so bad you know you'll want more." He chuckled, his other arm suddenly swinging around to cage you against the wall. "I can tell by how wet you were right now."

"That could have been from anyone else today." You scoffed, but you knew you couldn't pretend you weren't also starting to get desperate. Yiu also couldn't pretend that in an office full of monsters, most of them could probably smell your arousal whenever you had walked into a room.

"I'm an incubus, baby. A demon of pleasure. I can smell it in your blood how turn on you get from being around me." He chuckled with a grin. Fuck. He was onto you. "And it started shortly after I walked in the room..." Double fuck.

"Fuck you." You hissed through grit teeth, your blood pumping as you thought about how many times he must have known you were turned on by his presence.

"Oh babygirl, don't be so hostile. If you wanted more than just one night with me, we could easily arrange that." He starts to lean in close to your face, but you put a hand on his chest and push him back. You couldn't have him in your space like this for long or to hell with your morals.

"Look, I don't sleep with guys unless I'm dating them. I don't do friends with benefits or random office hookups." You finally admitted with a sigh, avoiding eye contact in embarrassment. Your hand on his chest alone was driving him wild. You had never touched him before. He felt his horns getting bigger as he struggled to keep his mostly human form intact.

"Wait, what? Why not?" He said as he finally processed what you said. It was hard to pay attention when you kept touching him.

"Because I know I get attached easily." You admit shyly, your voice nearly whisper quiet as you pulled your hand away. You had his full attention now. "Think about it. You're an incubus that needs to feed on pleasure to survive. You have a good routine going here with everyone else in the office from what I've heard." You let out a shakey sigh as you felt tears start to well in your eyes. "If I'm added into the mix, I know I'm just going to end up hurt... because it already hurts..."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean it hurts?" His voice has changed from frustration to worry mixed with confusion. He didn't understand what was hurting you.

"Excuse me?" You question, a bit confused by his confusion.

"What hurts you right now?" He asks, a bit more clearly as he stares into your eyes and gently cups your face. His touch makes you stiffen, although all you want to do is melt into his hand. As if he has some kind of truth spell on you, you take a breath and let out a soft sigh.

"Y...you do... you hurt me... I see how you talk to the other females in the office... it hurts... ever since I walked into this office I've found you attractive... I've only been here for a few weeks, and I've honestly already been looking to transfer to a different department so I don't have to be around you all the time." You admit softly, averting your gaze before his hand suddenly grabs your face by squishing your soft cheeks.

"What?! Hell no!" He barked with a growl. The thought of you transferring away from him made him enraged. He couldn't let that happen.

"Excuth me?" You mumbled through your squished lips, his grip firm, so you couldn't move, but not harsh.

"You heard me. Hell no." His grip on your face loosens as both his hands move up to hold the side of your head. The look in his eyes is wild, his pupils huge as he doesn't even seem to blink. "You've ruined me, so you don't get to run away from me like that."

"W-what?" You stutter confused, staring back at him as you tried to process his words. What does he mean you ruined him?

"If all you wanted from the beginning was to have me all to yourself, you should have said something." He mutters as his thumbs slowly rub your cheeks. His gentle touch makes you let out an involuntary sigh. "You've made me want no one but you since you got here anyways... your rejections were like being stabbed in the heart... God, without you around, everyone else smells like hot garbage... you smell like fresh summer rain that I wanna drown in forever..." He whispers to you as he moves his hands down your neck and to your shoulders before dropping down your back slowly.

"You really feel like that?" You whisper softly as a shiver goes down your spine. His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place as he presses his chest against yours. Your arms and papers squish between the two of you as his hot breath bathed your face.

"Yes. I mean every word... if you want to try and date me, I'd be more than happy to only feed from you." He slowly leans down and presses his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply as you can feel his hardening bulge against your lower stomach. "I just don't know how much longer I can wait for you... being this close is torture... I can take you on a proper date tonight, but..." His breathing seems to get heavier as you start to hear the ripping of fabric from behind him. "I need you." His eyes were filled with need at he looked like he was about to start drooling over the most deliciousmeal he's ever had. He was starving and desperate to just feel you. "Please."

"I need you too." You finally whispered, breathless yourself as this was finally too much. You hoped he was telling the truth, but your horny brain didn't even care anymore. You needed him just as badly in that moment.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I've needed to hear you say that." He lets out a relieved sigh and chuckles before a dark black tentacle comes out from the darkness and grabs your papers, throwing them onto the table. He wastes no time in pinning you to the wall, his wings bursting out from his back and ripping open the back of his suit. "Shit." He grumbles, quickly just tearing off the rest of the fabric on his upper body as he pulls up your skirt, making you wrap your legs around him as he grinds his bulge against your panties to tease you. You're about to let out a moan as he takes your soft lips in a deep kiss. You instead moan against his lips as your hands find his hair, gently tugging as he moans in return.

He's barely even done anything yet, and he feels like he just had a full meal. Your pleasure was so easy to stir and the buzz it gave him was addicting. This was dangerous. He didn't think you'd actually be so tasty. But you were now quickly becoming his new favorite meal. More tentacles manifested out of the darkness, wrapping around your arms and legs slowly as they explored your body and held you in place. The tentacles were warm and wet against your skin, almost feeling like strange tongues. You feel them pin your arms behind your back, your chest now pushed out as he rips the front of your blouse open. You gasp and squirm a bit about to complain about your shirt being ripped before he quickly silences you with a quick kiss.

"I can get you a new shirt, baby. Just relax and enjoy this." He purrs softly, making you shiver before his lips are back on yours again. He slides his tongue into your mouth and seems to be trying to taste as much of you as he possibly can. Two tentacles slide into your bra and wrap around your breasts, fondling them as they flicked your nipples. He quickly unbuckles his pants and pulls out his throbbing cock from his boxers, rubbing his length between your slick folds. He groans against your lips softly before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours.

Your brain is fuzzy as you look up at him, your eyes drunk with lust and he could swear you had hearts in your eyes. Your eyes flicked downwards and widened as he chuckled. He was bigger than you expected, but you weren't going to shy away from a challenge. However, before you could tell him to go ahead and fuck you, you felt a warm, slick tentacle move your panties to the side before prodding your dripping wet hole and slowly sliding into you. It was thick, stretching you slightly as it wriggled inside you against your most sensitive bumps inside you.

"I can tell you're a needy one... a secret kinky side... I like that." He groans as he bucks his hips against yours, rubbing his cock against your bundle of nerves. Your back arched as you couldn't help but let out lewd moans, another tentacle swiftly sliding into your mouth. "You're really enjoying this. I can't believe you resisted this for so long." He chuckles with a wicked grin. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth as you squirm, your eyes fluttering as the tendril in your pussy plays with your sensitive walls. Your face flushes as you felt yourself starting to get close already.

"Fuck baby... if you taste this good just to play with, I need to know how good you taste when you cum." He pants softly as you notice drool from the corners of his mouth dripping down onto your chest. His eyes are wild with lust as they dart over your body laid out just for him. His cock continues to thrust roughly against your clit, picking up the pace along with the two tentacles inside you. You don't know how much more you can take.

"Cum for me baby." He commands, making you shiver as you suddenly come undone. Your pussy contracts around the tentacle as you gag on the lne in your mouth. Your entire body trembles as you're fucked through your orgasm, the tentacles only pulling away slowly for a moment after you're done cumming. You're panting and gasping for air as the black tendril slides put of your mouth, your pussy red and puffy as the other slides out as well.

You're left whining softly as your pussy clenches around nothing and you try to catch your breath. You want to tell him you wanted more. That you wanted his cock. You needed it. Drool drips down your chin as he leans in to lick it away, pulling his dick away as the black tendrils move you to the large table. He begins licking the sweat from your body, leaving you wet and needy.

Once he finally moves to 'clean' between your legs, you're groaning and moaning softly with need. He licks up your thighs, stopping before touching your pussy. Your squirming in the grip of the tentacles still, bucking your hips as you pray for him to touch you. You're left whimpering and shaking with desire as he fixes your messy panties and pulls your skirt back into place.

"You really are needy." He growls as his eyes finally start to settle from their crazed daze. The tentacles slowly release you and he uses the shreads of his shirt snd jacket to ensure you're cleaned up. "But I can't get too carried away... not yet."

"I wish you could have." You whisper with a cheeky smile as he begins to clean your face of any spit or tears left behind. He chuckles lowly as he holds your face with one of his clawed hands. His eyes still held a burning desire for you, and you knew he saw the same in yours.

"You'll find out tonight. You took the bus today, right?" He asks as he manifested two of his shirts, opening one of them up and sliding it on your arms before beginning to button it up. You notice his more demon-like features starting to slowly go away, showing that he's much calmer now as he takes on his human appearance again.

"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow, wondering why he was asking. It wasn't uncommon for you to just take the bus when you didn't feel like driving in the morning. He quickly finished buttoning the shirt he put on you before putting on a shirt himself now that he won't rip it with his wings.

"Good. You're coming home with me after work." He said with a smirk as he buttoned up his shirt. You whined softly and bit your lip as he now covered himself. He helped you off the table, but held your hips as you stood in front of him now.

"I want you to save that energy for our date tonight."

"Oh really?" You giggle as you run your hand along his chest, undoing the top bottun to let a bit kore of his chest show. "You better finish what you started then." You feel him practically purr as he stares down at you with a mischievous grin.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster imagine #demon x reader #demon oc #demon bf #demon boyfriend

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peachesofteal · 13 days ago

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through me 🥹🥹🥹 its such a palette cleanser. always so sweet and endearing, the power of ur anthologies... i hope theyre as fun to write as they are to read!!!

if ur taking requests 👀 can we see the two of them going through name lists? would they keep to the stars theme? what would their backups be, would they find one really good GN name or different options if its a boy or a girl? middle names? nickname they call the baby before they decide on the real name? orions such a good name thats a high bar to match lmao

Through Me (The Flood) - Simon Riley/female reader

"I think we should keep the constellation theme." You bury your face in his chest as he cups the back of your head. When your fingers fist in his shirt and you gulp, he moves down your spine, kneading and stroking, trying to soothe the nausea.

"Do you need to get up?"

"No, I"m-" You shudder, and then jerk upright, hand over your mouth.

Two seconds later, you're running for the bathroom.

It's been like this for two weeks. You're sick in the afternoons, at night. You manage to keep down soup, and crackers, and he keeps water bottles full of electrolytes throughout the house.

He's helpless. Useless to you. Only able to stand by and give you comfort as you toss the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

He didn't handle your last doctor's appointment particularly well. You were fairly calm and collected, while he was a mess, demanding treatments and options for something that they wouldn't be able to cure. Morning sickness is normal, even if it comes during the day or at night, the doctor told him. There's no need to worry unless it gets considerably worse.

You cough, and he finds the handle to flush. "I'm sorry sweetheart." He puts the cool washcloth on your neck, urging you to lean back against him. Your lashes are wet, whites of your eyes turned red, and guilt burrows in the back of his mind. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you're peering up at him, and he uses the cloth to wipe your lips, the corner of your mouth as you sag against his chest. "It was the same with Ry."

"When will it stop?"

"Soon. Last time it was around twenty weeks, so shouldn't be too much longer." You press closer and he holds you tight, circling his thumb in your belly, stroking up and down as you take deep, long breaths.

"C'mon. Let's get back in bed."

"What about Pyxis?"

"Tell me about it." This never gets old. He could lay here and hold you for the rest of his life, listening to you tell him all about the stars, the constellations, where they are, how far away, why they're named.

"It's named after a compass, like the ones ship captains use. We could call them Pixie with a y for short." You frown. "I guess Pyxie isn't really gender neutral. Pyx, maybe?" He hums.

"I'm not sure either of those fall in the neutral category." You're both committed to the surprise. Maybe life's biggest, if he's honest, waiting to find out if the baby is a boy or girl, and because of it, the two of you decided to focus on gender neutral names. It's made the list shorter, but he's relishing every moment. He didn't get this last time, didn't get to hold you as you rattled off a million ideas. Didn't get to hear you excited you were when you finally decided on Orion.

He's soaking it up now.

"Aries?" He shakes his head.

"Too masculine."

"Corvus? Corvus for a boy, and then Core as a nickname for a girl?"

"He'd be cool, she'd get teased without mercy." You wince.

"I like Lyra, the harp, but it's too feminine. What about Vela?"

"What is it?"

"It's a constellation that's like part of big constellation, I think technically. It's latin, for sails of a ship."

"The A on the end always fucks with me," he murmurs, lips on your forehead, "it doesn't sound neutral."

"I still don't hate Pyxis." you chirp, wrapping around him. His hands slide to your belly and stay there.

"Let's think about it." He tugs your knee up to his thigh, turning you on your side to help you get comfortable, and you sigh.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

In the dark, not even an hour later, your voice rasps in a whisper against his ear. "What about Phoenix." It's not a question, and he pauses. "It's named after the myth. We could call them Nix for short. It works whichever way you want." Phoenix.

It's more than a constellation. It's rebirth. New beginnings. Transformation. Everything you've given him, everything the two of you have built together.

"It's perfect."

#peaches writes #through me (the flood)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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sophiethewitch1 · 9 months ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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astrow0rldx · 2 months ago

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PAC: Who you are to this person in their life, mind & fantasies

૮ ˶︶^︶˶ ა🧸🐇<3

We are all just different concepts, roles, and versions to everyone in our life.

Pile One

Signs: Worshipping you. So Anxious - Genuine. INTJ? ENTJ? ENTP? xNTx. Dark Feminine, Unavailable Feminine vibes. CEO/office siren energy. Nonchalant/Distant. Self-Assured/Focused. Independent! One of you could have Scorpio/8th house placements or Earth sign.

They look at you as a strong mf. Very strong, physically but especially mentally. Your no one to be fw. Your extremely smart, and clever. Probably less naive. They see you as a confident, overcoming person who is loyal and committed to things you value and goals you set your mind to. Your courageous, intellectual, logical, and can be really good analyzer and straight forward. They think of you as whole, complete and someone that can guide them, teach them. Give them wisdom and hope.

Their feelings for you is very primal. Really Sexual or Thrilling. For some of you this person your asking about is a masculine energy between 16-29? You have a very powerful, transformative effect on them. A thirsty dog with their tongue hanging out. Ready to be satisfied, and you satisfy them. Your a satisfaction for them, kind of like someone they wish they had might literally be their type. They could be obsessive, tied to you. Possessive over you and just very demonic/low vibrational in their feelings, because its so intense. Its so exciting, and adrenaline inducing to them. About how they feel towards you, very chaotic. A lot rooting from desire and the root (action) chakra.

In their fantasy they could just fight any competition or barrier, win you over, and leave with you. Just start preparing and making plans for actions and next move. Their fantasy is having a choice and decision they have to make with you, a risk they might have to take. "Should I stay or should I go" having that courage!! They desire to hope and pray you guys can come together, celebrate. Be mutual and experience on another. They have so much faith in this. They already done wished upon a star. But their conscious thoughts about you is maybe feeling a little defeated, like a victim. and all up in their feels trying work it out & be emotionally mature about things. understand their feelings. If they aren't feeling defeated or like the victim, they might be like I said in that demonic, low vibration, desire energy where their trying to win you over by any means. they will do whatever, manipulate and be the bad guy on maybe your emotions, your emotional state, your romance, and your caring side.

Girl its half an hour past ten Got me waiting in my bed You’ve been busy in my head Since noon I got to feel you, freak you

come to my appointment

Now I feel the urge, I hope you feel it too Now imagine girl what I'mma do to you Girl the image of your body got me sprung Never felt like this about another one You are killing me girl cause is half past one My body trembles every time my clock agrees

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Pile Two

Signs: Earth Sign!! City Girl. High-Maintenance. Materialistic. Fashion Junkie. Hustler, Money Motivated. Good with Cosmetic things? Cosmetologist? Business Owner? Real-estate, looking for a home? Present yourself with class & value.

They see you as a very materialistic person, of this world. Someone who is stable, but not stable. Like a hustler. You might be insecure always chasing security or materialistic things. Working a lot, Starting a business. Focusing on home, cars, fashion, and items you want. Stingy with it to. Hoarding or Collector probably too. Just someone who builds the life they want around them, a reality creator, a manifestor.

(You and Pile One (so far) is asking about some people that's definitely ready to fuck) Their feelings for you is they might feel isolated from you, or need to be isolated from you to go within and focus on themself. Figure out what they want, because their stuck on something that they might not have had the time, or chose the time to think about. If they did their overthinking and working it out. But they definitely feel really lustful towards you, a lot of sexual energy. Hit it & quit it energy almost. A fun experience that they intensely desire. But they definitely feel a horny, exciting, drawn pull towards you. Could be intense.

Don't lower your self-worth now, even though it shouldn't be depending on this person anyways. They put you on a VERY high pedestal. Someone who they have to work for. In their fantasies, they will take on any baggage, and hardships for his empress. + The Lovers. which mean they definitely fantasize about loving on you, admiring you, being in a relationship with you. Winning you as a trophy. Their thoughts about you could be that their worried about your security and money and think its killing you, or its killing them. Making them feel inferior. They desire to leave something behind and create this little emotional, vulnerable, cutesy dynamic with you. Rush in and ask you stuff, tell you stuff, confront you on things. Again I'm scared this person is not a loyal, committed person in your life or planning to be but that's only for some.

youtube

I'm representin' for the bitches All eyes on your riches No time for the little dicks You see the bigger the dick The bigger the bank, the bigger the Benz The better the chance to get close to his rich friends I'm going after the big man My g-string make his dick stand Make it quick, then slow head by the night stand Like lightning, I wanna nigga with a wedding ring Bank accounts in the Philippines

I make him eat it while my period on A little nasty ho, red-bone but a classy ho Young jazzy ho and don't be scared If you're curious just ask me hoes And yes dick sucking comes quite natural Cause I'm da baddest bitch, what

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Pile Three

Signs: Water sign or Earth sign. Mysterious. Feminine. Have y'all met? New person in your life, from work/school? R&B. Throwback Music.

They see you as someone who might be hard to read. Hard to understand, and quite mysterious and unknown to them. Maybe manipulative, deceptive & delusional. They might even see you as spoiled, or someone who is given good opportunities. Blessed, and for some people its not always blessings from others, but they see you as someone who creates blessings for themself. A stable & grounded Person. But they definitely see you as a person on their own, and independent. Mysterious and Independent.

They feel again, hidden from you. Somethings unknown but they are willing to build with you, and work with you. Even provide for you. They might feel anxiety, nervous and a lot of overthinking limiting thoughts that prevent this connection from growing.

They desire to build some type of stability between you two. But they need to read you, and know something. The moon keeppsss coming out for how they view & feel towards you, but what they want & Desire is this High Priestess. With 10 of pentacles, this can be long lasting, stable. Is this like a job opportunity? Provider, Daddy Dynamic? In their fantasies, having you and being able to just be with you is their wish fulfillment. They want to get everything they wish from you. They fantasize about not being emotionally stuck, and flowing through, moving on, coming to better light. They really fantasize about starting this material project. Study Buddy? Work Project? I don't know but some type of goal and stability they fantasize about doing with you. Your mystery gives them time to fantasize, and in their mind they might daydream, and create these ideas and wishes. They think about letting loose, having fun with you. Being drunk with you maybe. But they might be focusing & thinking about the negative and sad side of the connection & what made them hurt.

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Red light, you know I can't make this thing that official Believe, we had a great night but I ain't the type to tell you that I miss you, shit You don't like that, I make this easy, leaving After sexing on the floor Baby, I know you need me like I need you But I'm not the one you wanna love

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