#prompts: answered

[alexxmason]

❛ there’s nothing you could have done. ❜ for ariel and edward

😭😭😭 bestie please enjoy this one shot turned thing, and forgive me that it’s literally been months. This actually became it’s own thing and I got a bit into it more than I expected. Also thank you to @hoesephseed for looking this over 💕💕✨✨

Prompt: “There’s nothing you could have done.”

Word count: 1716

Warnings: grief, loss, character deaths, minor violence, probably something else I’m missing.

When she heard on the radio that Carmine Falcone had been apprehended by the Batman, she and all her fellow officers and detectives rushed to the lounge. Only she ran for her own reason.

She took her own vehicle. She couldn’t bear to wait for anyone to join her.

All it took was Falcone in the light; this would all be over, and everything would be exposed.

The corruption and the vileness slowly cleansed after all this time.

But she arrived at the scene, and she was too late. She and others waited too long to join the chaos.

The Riddler shot Carmine Falcone, but he wasn’t fast enough to slip away to the diner as his plan.

Riddler was shot by a rookie officer. His death was instant and painless.

Too good for him, officers would say.

But not Gordon. He saw Edward’s face and recognized it. He’d seen the man before at a Christmas party with one of his detectives, Ariel Herrera.

She called him her boyfriend.

So when she arrived at the scene, it was a terrible wailing that confirmed Ariel knew him.

It didn’t take long for officers to try to console her and keep the detective back from the scene.

She was shouting she had to see him. Ariel had to, but Gordon held her and told her it was okay.

The commissioner made sure to have Ariel arrested or detained for questioning.

Ariel had been sobbing and wailing for hours, inconsolable. Unfortunately, she was too late; maybe she should have hitched a ride with another officer.

It was possible he might’ve needed her to escape if his plan didn’t go well, but she never would've thought some beat cop would shoot the Riddler down.

Now his name exposed and slandered, along with his cause doused in lies.

“Can I see him?” She asked Gordan when he entered the interrogation room and handed her a coffee.

Her mentor was hesitant to answer her. He felt betrayed, and he almost couldn’t look at her, “Did you know about this?”

Ariel didn’t answer his question. Instead, she only repeated her own again. Then when Gordon told her soon, she nodded and said, “Did he suffer?”

“No, Ariel. He didn’t.”

Her deep, brown eyes shut tightly. Still moving her head up and down. It took all her strength to keep in her broken sobs. Ariel’s trembling and frantically shaking hands didn’t stop no matter how much she rubbed them.

Her dark eyes stare at the one way glass. She’s sure that the so-called great Batman was on the other side.

Listening. Judging. He was likely feeling some kind of pride that his adversary was out of the picture.

Edward put so much faith in this caped crusader and believed they were an unofficial team. Though, Ariel knew better. She had observed this Batman during her work with Gordan and when he’d just appeared uninvited to crime scenes. He was stoic and cold, but not afraid to pass judgment on those less fortunate. Those who had no choice but to turn to crime. He likely didn’t understand their world. Her world.

She hated him for that. A level of distrust grew from that resentment. If things were different, Ary and Eddie would’ve been dropheads or petty thieves. Maybe dead.

Or alive, in this case.

Oh, Edward, she thought about him as Ariel eyed her own reflection, there had to be something I could’ve done..

Rapidly blinking her eyes back, fighting the tears back, Ariel asked Gordan again, “Can I see him?”

Before he could shut her down, her hands slammed flat to the table and she bit her lip, “Please, I wanna say goodbye…Please, Jim..”

Either sympathy or pity got the better of him, and he arranged a special trip to the Gotham City Morgue.

The buzzing, cruelness of the fluorescent lights were not flattering as they lit about the cold table. A sheet over Ariel’s lover pained her when she nodded and looked down to the still corpose with her red, stiff eyes. She had no more tears, Ariel’s face felt so stiff from all her weeping hours before.

Confirming what Gordan already knew, Ariel confirmed, “Yes,” she choked back a sob, “That’s Edward Nashton.”

The very words tore her up when they spilled out and if not for the mousy and squirrely looking coroner, Ariel would have broken down all again.

His thick glasses looked down to the ground, away from her. Stepping behind Gordon to stay out of the way.

Ariel made the bold choice to take Edward’s cold hand and put a soft kiss to his stiff knuckles. The tears flowed down once more. I should’ve been there.

“I’d like to.. start making arrangements, Jim.”

Gordan scoffed and sneered, and he began to berate her, “No, Herrera. That’s out of the question.”

With a slight whimper, Ariel looked up and glared, “Why not? He’s my only family and I’m not gonna leave him here!” She slammed her hand on a nearby metal tray, “I owe him a proper burial!”

Guilt built up and tears pooled in her eyes, “I should’ve been there. Maybe… maybe I could have done something or helped Eddie.”

“Helped him how? He’s a killer, Ariel. He killed our people. He was sick-”

“You don’t know him! He wasn’t this monster. He actually cared about all this corruption more than anyone. He wasn’t some psycho doing these things for kicks. He had a purpose! Edward was someone worth more than any of those officers..” Her voice cracked and her words were almost like whimpers as Ariel went on, “I should’ve been there. I could’ve.. he wouldn’t be gone..”

Gordon took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes hard when he said, “Do you not understand what’s gonna happen? They're gonna want someone else to burn for this. Ariel, even if he’s dead, your fellow officers are gonna want Justice. These are your people,” he ranted. Referring to her colleagues and coworkers as some kind of family she’s never had.

A lie.

“And they are gonna want someone to pay for this.”

“Someone like him deserved better. He was worth something. I’m just no one. It should’ve been me,” she said. Slowly getting off track with her words.

Gordan only took in a deep inhale. Then, scrunching his nose as he groaned quietly in frustration, “Ariel, stop it! You’d die for a murderer, is that it?”

“He wasn’t just some killer!”

Her frustrated mentor shouted for her to stop, and it was enough. No amount of self pity would change the facts, he told her, “You and I know that everyone’s gonna want someone to answer for this. I don’t want it to be you. You’re a good kid. You have so much to live for. Don’t throw your life away for this.”

Ariel knew what would happen, she’d go to prison for her own crimes. Aiding and abetting Edward, or Riddler. And without him in her world, she was ready to take on his punishment.

“I don’t have a life anymore. It died with him.” She muttered, putting one final kiss to her late lover’s hand, “I failed him.”

A hand on her shoulder made her cringe, squirm away when Gordan said, “There’s nothing you could have done. You can still do good.”

No, I can’t.

Before anything else can be said, there was the sound of a metal trap slamming into Jim Gordon’s head. Knocking the officer unconscious.

The commotion took Ariel by surprise, jumping from the sound. Her heart pounded as she eyed the now untrustworthy coroner; Ariel could still hear his sheepish nature when he said, “I know him. Or knew him.” He pointed to Edward, and when Ariel looked back at the stranger, “I’ve watched his… I watched them.”

It dawned on her that he was talking about Edward’s broadcasts. His propaganda.

Even with her guard up, he reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope with her crudely written name, “This… was in his coat.”

She took it and peeked up, “His coat?”

As if she requested, the coroner was quick to hand her Edward’s belongings. And offered to help her, “I’m sure it’s what he wanted.”

She sees the deep, dark green coat. One she’s held tightly before, his coat. She held it tightly then and to her chest.

Still hesitant, she lets the stranger aid her. And her escape. Quickly taking the Riddler’s body to the coroner’s van and helping Ariel to the vehicle. She doesn’t know where they’re going, it didn’t matter.

Her hand trembled when she opened the letter, its vague. But she understood it. An address. And instructions, “You’ll know what to do. I trust you..”

The location is some small crematorium. Abandoned but it was Edward’s. Inside looked just like his scattered home with news clippings and carefully laid out plans. Handcrafted traps. Another base of operations for Riddler.

Ariel had never been there, but she had no time to explore. She was already looking over his plans to flood the city. And more so, men to help him carry out his plans of anarchy.

She almost couldn’t believe it. He was so careful to hide these plans. But now they’re hers. His operations belonged to her, you’ll know what to do.

The runaway coroner already prepped Edward’s body. Preparing to give him a proper send off, but not before Ariel put her head on his chest. On the dark shirt, sobbing and telling him she wouldn’t fail him again.

Ariel brushed the brown locks of hair from his forehead before putting a kiss to the cold skin, “I’m sorry. I could’ve done something. I will do something.”

After saying her final goodbye, his body was cremated. Stored carefully for her.

But she knew what to do as Ariel slipped the large green coat on, the bright white Riddler mark displayed with grief now. It took her longer than she wanted to wrap the plastic cling around her dark hair. She held Riddler’s mask and Edward’s glasses tightly as she took in a deep breath.

Gordon’s words replayed in her head, “There’s nothing you could have done.”

He was wrong, this is what she could do. She would finish Edward’s work, I know what to do.

[nerdpoe]

Danny's found a way to dodge GIW trackers, as well as his parents. Their equipment hunts ghosts, ghosts run on emotion; so as long as he keeps his under a tight lid and doesn't feel anything ever, they won't be able to track him.

It works!

He's able to run from them, and goes as far as New Jersey. The plan was to stow away on a ship, and go to literally any country that wasn't America. He goes to Gotham, which hosts the one harbor he knows where no one will ask any questions.

But because of how weird he acted (completely emotionless during a Joker attack), he was fingered by police immediately.

He's handed over to CPP. CPP doesn't know what to do with a teen literally so traumatized that they don't show any emotion at all, ever. He keeps just...walking out of his placements. Just leaves without a sound.

Luckily, he's always caught, due to those placement houses having quiet alarms and him refusing to run.

They call the one foster parent they know who does.

Bruce Wayne takes in the strange, nameless kid who refuses to talk.

On paper, they gave him the filler name of 'John Doe', for lack of anything better to do.

Bruce does everything he can to make the newest arrival feel at home. Damian, for as territorial as he is, actually breaks out of his shell sooner than expected just to try to get the new kid to speak. To emote. To do something. Duke tries the open approach, then tries the 'no one will ever know, everyone thinks I'm an innocent goody-two-shoes' approach. Nada.

Tim even tries to trick him into talking, but nothing works.

Enter Dick; Dick heard about Bruce's new ward, about the situation, and decided to see if he could get the kid to open up.

Danny though. Danny's in trouble.

The Wayne Manor is weirdly secure, and he can't just walk away like he did his other placements. He can't use ghost powers or the GIW and his parents will immediately know where he is.

He really, really wants to take Bruce up on his offer and just spend the day relaxing. Respond to Damian's attempts to provoke him. Overshare about space facts with Tim.

But most of all, he really, desperately wants to get in a Pun Competition with Dick. He wants to laugh at Dick's jokes, and learn coolass gymnastic tricks!

But he can't!

If he relaxes with Bruce, he'll be content, which is an emotion. If he argues with Damian, he'll get annoyed, which is an emotion. If he sneaks out with Duke and breaks the rules, he'll get happy, which, again, emotion. If he overshares with Tim, he'll get excited, which is, yet again, an emotion!

The worst sin of all, he can't even show proper appreciation of the food the Butler keeps making him!

And now there's even more people coming over!

There's a quiet girl who keeps reading his body language and trying to get him to dance ballet, a blonde girl who keeps trying to kidnap him to take him to BatBurger, a guy with a stripe of white who wants to take him to a shooting range, and it just...he really, really wants to!

He wants to do all these cool things with them!

But he fucking can't!

[declamationark]

DPXDC prompt: There’s an alien invasion incoming and the justice league are all up in arms to defeat them. Once they break into the mothership, however, they discover that the aliens were already beaten up and there’s this ghostly child cackling in the control room. It’s Danny and he is Obsession-drunk and having an absolute blast exploring every nook and cranny of the ship, dismantling it to see how the machines work, driving it around, chatting a hundred miles per hour to the definitely-concussed and groaning alien commander, and just zooming fro and fro with eyes dilated so hard there’s only a tiny ring of green in his eyes, lost in the feral serotonin sauce

Bonus points if the justice league calm Danny down by having him fanboy over Martian Manhunter, and then in the end, Danny goes “I’m gonna stick with you now! No takebacks!” and adopts J’onn into the Fenton family, now J’onn has two midwestern folks to hang out with for the holidays (the Kents from that Christmas special and now the Fentons)

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

[erwinsvow]

shy reader sending rafe nudes for the first time🫢

rafe was so nice to you. his new favorite hobby seemed to be spoiling you—it seemed there was an endless influx of shopping trips and things getting delivered to your house after being mentioned once. you don't know how he always got it right, the exact color you wanted or the perfect size. especially when you weren't even sure which style was the best or were having trouble picking between two. rafe would decide for you, usually picking right or just ending up buying both.

he was very good at this whole thing, and though you had trouble accepting his genoursity at first, you felt you were growing into it quite nicely.

the constant denial that you wanted something turned into a sweet, grateful smile when rafe offered to get it. worrying about how expensive something was long-forgotten, instead you gave rafe a kiss on the cheek instead of mentioning it.

and the best part was that he liked it, liked taking care of you, liked making sure you had the things you wanted. he'd even gotten a shiny silver credit card with his name on it, had insisted that you use it for things.

"what kinda man am i, huh? if my girl has to buy herself nice things. that's no way to treat your best girl, huh?"

mostly he just wanted to hear you call yourself his girl, but it was getting easier and easier to swipe it out and about.

you fell into the trap of the saleswoman at the lingerie store—you'd come once before to buy some nighties when you started sleeping over at tannyhill every single night. you'd handed her the silver card, thinking about what rafe had in store for you if you showed up wearing what you'd just bought, when she snapped you out of it

"is that all for today mrs. cameron?"

she'd transported you into a completely different spiral. so you had returned with a craving to hear yourself be called that again, buying anything and everything that caught your eye, but mostly things that you thought rafe would like.

on your way out, still elated from the sheer headrush of being called mrs. cameron, you don't even notice the missed call and texts from rafe, not until you get home and put on the first of many new outfits.

rafey: what the hell is la perla. the fuck did you buy for $500??

dolled up in your new outfit, you angle yourself to snap a couple of pictures with your phone, the first showing your tits spilling out of the pretty, floral bra and panty set. then you laid down, trying to capture your ass and the best arch you could manage without rafe there to push your back for you. trying on another thing you'd bought, this time a pretty white babydoll, you take a selfie showing just enough of the fabric.

sending the photos without any caption, you wait patiently for the response. but seconds turn into minutes, minutes into ten and twenty, while you wonder if you overstepped, if rafe was displeased at your purchases, at the waste of money.

rafe opens the door so hard it slams, and you flinch.

"get on the bed. now." like always, you comply. you guess he wasn't so mad after all.

[that-one-weird-cloud0]

Batman: You need a new costume. That one provides no protection.

Danny: oh I cant.

Batman: You won’t owe me for it.

Danny: no I literally cant. Like if i remove it it just returns.

Batman:………. Explain.

Danny: look *takes off glove and explodes it into pieces*

*glove reforms on his hand*

Danny: see? Can’t get rid of it. It’ll just heal itself.

Batfam: …

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 95

Captain Marvel, new Den-Mother (despite the fact he himself is a child even if the league isn’t aware of that fact) for the Young Justice team blinks. Klarion, so-called chaos lord, blinks back in the middle of a spell. 

He tilts his head. The other baby realms-being mirrors him. His own magic-fueled core pulses, and a chaos-core vibrates back. Oh. Ah. So that’s what’s happening. 

“They can’t play right now,” he explains to the barely-younger ancient-in-training, ignoring the team’s incredulous looks at his words with the practice of someone who had to deal with the voices of gods all the time. And Batman’s narrowing eyes. Scary. 

The chaos-core thrums in a distinct pouting-sensation, alongside a whine unique to young ghostlings. A whine that he replied with, even if only they could hear. Come play later, busy now, he insisted again, even if Klarion’s pouting was turning visible before it shifted to a scowl. 

“Fiiine…” And then the chaosling was gone, his familiar with him. Billy really wished he could join in disappearing, seeing the info-hungry look in the others’ eyes.

[chxrryhansen]

hiii okay this is my first time asking something and is terrifying and you don’t have to do this of course

rafe cameron takes the shy girl out for a date at the beach and at the end he fucks her senseless

also can i be 💋 anon?? 

ofc you can bby!! and dont be scared omg i would love to hear each and every one of your thoughts! also if you have sent me a request in my asks i will get to it after i publish my concepts!

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

“your wine taste good sweetie?” he asked, his lips wrapping around the bottle in his hand, taking a swig of beer.

rafe surprised you, taking you to a private spot on his family owned beach; he had even hired a waiter to serve you underneath a beautiful open fale facing the jewel like ocean. contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend had never treated you poorly, never raising his voice, always buying you gifts and treating you like a princess. he practically worshiped the ground you walk on.

“mhm.” you nodded happily, sending him one of your famously shy smiles. his large hand reached across the table intertwining his fingers with your own much smaller ones.rafe had always been soft on you, you just seemed to have a way of comforting him with a sense of calming. he was so used to hearing crashing waves that he had forgotten what a calm ocean sounded like until he met you.

pushing his chair back he stands gently, keeping a hold of your hand. pulling you softly to stand. he leads you to the edge of the deck, standing behind you with his hands holding your hips as you lean over the wooden ledge, admiring the motionless sea and the crimson pink sky, watching as the sun begins to set.

“beautiful, huh?” he whispers, pressing kisses to your forehead. running his lips down til he reaches your neck, sucking and biting your soft skin gently.

you moan weakly at the sensation, clenching your thighs together to relieve some tension and throwing your head back in ecstasy. you push your hips further into his, listening to him grunt you begin to grind in circular motions, his grip tightening as he guides you, feeling his hard length in between your ass cheeks. His hands move from your hips to lift your dress over your ass.

At his newfound discovery he lets out a low whistle “no panties? naughty girl.” he drawls.

“t-touch me.. please rafe.” you whine, feeling hot underneath his gaze. His fingers run through your slit, gathering your sweet juices as you whine in pleasure, turning your head and watching as he lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking gently, panting at the taste of your sopping pussy.

“you know i love you, right honey?…” he whispered, pulling down his slacks, his hand wrapping around his fat cock, he begins rubbing his tip up and down against your hole, pushing his hips into you slightly, just deep enough that your walls began to swallow his thick mushroom tip as you cry out. you nodded shakily, tears streaming down your cheeks in anticipation.

“good. cause’ i’m gonna’ fuck you like i don’t.”

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

[new-revenant]

Hi, sorry if this is annoying but I've had this idea for a while and I can't get it outta my head and I'm not a good writer. So here it is

Danny inherits an old amusement park from his deceased grandfather, it would've gone to Jack or Jazz but knowing Jack it would've been demolished in a week from him kool-aid manning himself through attraction walls and he didn't think Jazz would want a whole amusement park so he gave it to Danny, especially since he hated Maddie for encouraging the whole ghost nonsense with Jack.

So that's how a nineteen year old Danny found himself in an abandoned amusement park on the outskirts of Gotham and standing over the Joker who he accidentally knocked out with a 2 by 4 while assessing what he needed to fix. In Danny's defense the clown snuck up on him and he had headphones in. Now if only the group of furies would understand this was an accident

This isn’t annoying at all! “Kool-Aid maning” love that.

Danny would have to show them the paperwork he has that show that he now owns the place, but he doesn’t have it on him so he’s freaking out, thinking that he’s going to jail or something for trespassing on his own property. The Bat Fam are smart enough to know that he’s probably not lying about owning the park now, but they are going to need to do a background check and get the paperwork, because he is kinda sus. They are thankful that they don’t have to deal with Joker for a few more nights as he’s sent off to Arkham(idk how to spell) again. Some members jokingly want him to join, and the idea horrifies Danny so much he almost passes out from that alone.

And side note, it was Jack’s side of the family that seemed to be obsessed with the supernatural, see the blood blossom episode. But I do like the idea of different Fenton members believing in different supernatural creatures and not believing in others, so it still works for my head canons ha ha👍

[alexxmason]

"i feel safe with you." from john to dj pls 😌

Thank you! It's short and sweet, enjoy 💕 ignore I haven't written for them in so long 😪😪😪

Prompt: "I feel safe with you." Word Count: 526 Warnings: none, just fluff.

“John,” she smiled with hot and flushed freckled cheeks. Her hands were in his dark as she pushed back from framing his face. 

“Yes?” He asked, peeking up at her before playfully biting at her side to get a tiny little laugh. Then doing it once more when she pulled his hair back with a laugh, “It’s a good night; we should enjoy ourselves.”

He was right; it was a good night. They had enjoyed their dinner, and Dutch had pulled out a new set of DVDs that he had oddly remembered he had stashed. Mostly some 80’s action movies and a couple of comedies, but a good night for them being trapped in a bunker.

DJ shook her face and beat down the slight grin and giggle when his hands moved up her body. She was half tempted to flip him over and off their twin mattress. But she didn’t want to cause any noise and disturb their roommate.

When she let go of his hair and covered her mouth to fight the sweet little laugh when John made his up, her body bit down on her neck playfully, leaving a soft little suck along her skin.

“You’re so annoying,” the former deputy told her man as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sighing to herself when the exiled Baptist kissed her shoulder on the pride he etched so long ago. 

He just responded to her and snuggled into her, “I think you like it.”

While the two got comfortable and scooched into the small bed, DJ said, “Maybe. You’re annoying but luckily semi-bearable.”

 A small hiss and groan slipped out; he pouted and grinned, “Oh. It must be my imagination. You seem so content.”

Dahlia rolled her eyes. Beating back the flush on her cheeks and keeping her face from him, “Maybe.”

It wasn’t annoyance or making the best of a bad situation. John caught her, and she was content. She felt comfortable and safe since the tragic events in Hope County and the collapse.

Not a statement she liked to openly admit or throw lightly. 

“Maybe, maybe, maybe.” He was teasing her, “I’ll just have to drill it into you.”

Dahlia didn’t help but cringe and put her first to his chin when he kissed her cheek, “I think you already know that answer.”

“What’s that answer, DJ?” Always a man for words along with gestures, “That you are content?”

Her chest grew hotter when those eyes caught hers. Roots burrowing and twisting in the earth, or her chest, when she gets the words out, “I don’t know. This is okay."

A slight smile grew on the Baptist’s lips, and he said, “okay?”

DJ nodded, then hesitated her following words and carefully confessed, "I feel safe with you."

She heard him hum when his eyes remained on hers, “That is strange. But..” he picked his own words carefully as well when she pushed his hair back. Slicking it to its usual place even it fell, “but yes, this is okay. This is good.”

Some words of praise and affection were just enough for her. Enough for them. 

It was a good night.

[nerdpoe]

Lazarus Water is a special water to Ghosts. Not for drinking, but more for like...baptism. Into servitude.

Anyone who has been dunked in Lazarus Water is bound by soul contracts to serve the Ghost King, whoever it is.

The more someone has been dunked, the more binding the contracts.

Jason and Bruce? They would have to be given a direct order.

Damian? A side-minded mention would force his body to comply with the Ghost King's wishes.

Ra's? Ra's is screwed.

Because the Ghost King is now a fourteen year old boy, and Ra's has been dunked so many times that all said boy has to do is think and the Demon Head is scrambling to comply.

Danny doesn't know what he did to have ninjas at his beck and call, but they're really taking the workload off of his shoulders by fighting his rogues when he has homework to do or sleep to catch, so he's very okay with all of it.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 29

Dont get him wrong, Danny had some big feelings about finding out his mom had cheated on his dad. He had even bigger feeling about the divorce and the whole shipping him off to live with his bio dad.

He wasn't going to lie. The new school was actually really nice and he had made friends quickly, though at first it was tough to weed out the ones who just wanted to get close to the Wayne family name and not him as a person. He didn't get to chat with Tucker and Sam a whole lot due to thier schedules but he and Jazz always made time for eachother.

His life had surprisingly taken a massive upturn. Vlad had been arrested soon after Danny warned the Waynes about him, making Danny believe either his dad it felt wierd calling him that but da-Jack made it perfectly clear he should never call him that was Batmans sugar daddy or somthing or maybe the Waynes got kidnapped so much that the bats bugged the whole place. Danny hoped not, he had done a whole karaoke thing with Jazz during thier video call the other night and he really didn't want anyone to hear thier shared cat screeching.

Jazz was super happy to learn Danny had joined the Volleyball team and Astronomy club. He used to play Volleyball in middle school and played defense a lot. He was even the best on the team but he stopped playing after one too many times of his parents forgetting to show up or causing a ruckus whenever they thought a ghost was nearby.

But it was better now

The portals were shut down by the bats. The GIW where expertly obliterated from existence. His parents are getting court mandated mental help. There are no more ghosts. No more ghost hunters.

And no need for Phantom

Danny doesn't think he's ever felt this free. He could go out to eat with friends with his way too big allowance that his...dad gives him and he didn't have to worry about having to ditch them to go fight a bad guy. He could eat dinner with a family who was a little awkward but surprisingly open to him and the food was delicious and didn't attack him. He could actually sleep at night and feel safe doing it. His siblings liked spending time with him and getting to learn anout him and thier "bonus sister" Jazz.

He had no reason to use his powers.

Until the grandfather clock he was walking past swung open like a door and he locked eyes with Nightwing coming out of it. They just stared at eachother before Danny just said, "I don't want to know which one your dating. Just know I have a bat and im willing to use it in the most ungodly of ways." And walked back to his room.

He wouldn't be a superhero, but he was willing to be a supervillian to protect his new family. Or in this case make sure Nightwing, a rumored playboy, knew better than to go breaking hearts in this household.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Nightwing is investigating a traveling circus

There’s a lot of suspicion around it. Every time Circus Gothica visits a town, local accounts of robberies increase.

What flagged Nightwing’s attention was the fact that whoever is committing the crimes is good. Camera footage is corrupted. Theres no physical trace left behind. Local heroes report being attacked by strange glowing green monsters, who disappear shortly after being caught.

That, and Nightwing is feeling a bit nostalgic. An excuse to spend time with a circus? That’s reliving his childhood.

So when Circus Gothica visits Amity Park, Nightwing is there to investigate.

The town is fairly clean, especially compared to the streets of Gotham or Bludhaven. It’s almost strange to not smell smog in the air.

Townsfolk are friendly to the civilian disguise Nightwing is using. He introduces himself as an out of towner here on a trip to get away from the city. He asks about touristy things, but also fishes for information about possible villains or vigilantes in the area.

People complain about ghost attacks happening, many of them centered on the local school for some reason. They mention Inviso-Bill (Nightwing loves that name), local menace who fights these supernatural threats.

Nightwing spots some posters for Circus Gothica hung up around town. He reads the advertisement, and freezes.

One of the acts advertised is none other than The Flying Graysons.

[kenjakusbraincum]

Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

-

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.

[becca-e-barnes]

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Vampire hero x flirty villain but it’s HEAT SEASON *disappears*

“Shit, you’re a mess.” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and tilted their head, clearly amused.

“Yeah, listen…” The hero took in a deep breath. It was worse when they spent time with the villain, it always got worse too. Usually, they would hook up with a stranger but that simply didn’t satisfy them anymore.

The hero didn’t know what was wrong with them, they’d been “alive” for long enough now, they had dealt with this several times and had never had any problems. However, that had changed. And the hero hated change.

“You’re not sick, are you?” The villain took a step towards them. Slowly, they came closer and closer.

“No…no, I’m fine, I…hey, let’s just fight, okay?”

“You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m not.”

“Honey, you’re looking at everything I have to offer except for my pretty face.” The villain was in front of them now and the hero tried to keep their eyes on the villain’s. “I’ve done a little bit of research on vampires. Either you’re starving or…”

The hero grabbed their hand.

“Don’t say it.”

The villain’s smirk widened.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” the villain said. Their fingers traced the hero’s jawline. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, darling. It’s only natural, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…” the hero began. They couldn’t control their thoughts, couldn’t control the daydreams about what they’d do with the villain.

They used to think this was a good thing, a pleasurable thing. But it had turned into a curse, had turned into a bottomless pit.

Deep down, the hero feared they had fallen for the villain. They feared they couldn’t be satisfied without them.

“Honey…” the villain said. They were everything the hero wanted in a partner. Intelligent, protective, flirty. They’d known each other for a while now. “You can’t fight in a state like this. I’ll end up on top of you and we’d reach the same outcome.”

The hero squeezed their eyes shut, trying to ignore their criminal libido. They hadn’t even thought about their actions. It was as if their body had carried them through the streets and to the villain’s apartment.

“I can’t ask that of you, it’s not right.” The hero grabbed the villain’s shoulder in search for something to stabilise them. They could feel their pulse banging in their ears.

“But I was the one suggesting it.” The villain caught the shell of the hero’s ear with their teeth softly. They bit down but released them just as quickly when the hero let out a quiet moan. “And you came to me…”

The hero was quiet. They touched the villain’s neck and caressed it, losing themselves to the feeling of someone actually caring about them.

“I can’t always control myself,” the hero whispered. “The biting or sometimes scratching, I can’t—”

“Hmmm,” the villain hummed and the hero was surprised to see a satisfied smile glued to their face. “I’m into that. So, don’t hold back, got it?”

“Are you sure you—?”

“If you’re really desperate we can do it on my desk, right here,” the villain suggested. They pressed the hero’s hips against the table and the hero could only attempt to whisper the villain’s name when they pressed their knee between the hero’s thighs. “What do you think?”

The hero didn’t know if they wanted to bite or devour the villain. Probably both.

“Y-yes, here is totally fine.”

“What a good vampire you are, hm?” the villain whispered against their ear. Their hand crawled up the hero’s thigh, slowly, agonisingly. “Three taps if it’s too much for you. You choose a safe word.”

The hero nodded.

“What do you want in return? Money? Information?”

“In return,” the villain said, their fingers playing with the hero’s underwear, “I want you to beg for it.”

Thus their affair began.