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“Get ready with me to breakup with my fiancé-“

“BUUUUUULLSHIT YOU ARE!”

Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.

“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”

You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”

“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”

“Rinnie!”

“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”

“Your point?”

His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”

“Oh, please-“

“To Komori.”

This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“

“Oh, I’m serious, too.”

You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”

“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”

“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”

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imagine dating JASON TODD, and the two of you were on your way home after a cozy, lowkey date night at batburger. you were both laughing, discussing the latest drama and gossip happening in his family—what do you mean dick got blacklisted from his local supermarket for buying up the entire cereal aisle?—stomachs full of french fries and milkshakes as you guys turned the corner to take a shortcut through an empty alleyway.

this being gotham, of course a sketchy-looking fellow soon emerged from the shadows, brandishing a knife and threatening you and your boyfriend to hand over your wallets.

“sure, man. take whatever you want. just don’t hurt her,” jason implored, taking a few cautious steps forward as he held out his wallet.

“that’s right. just hand over the money, nice and quietly, and you lovely folks will be right on your way,” the man chuckled.

“please, don’t hurt him!” you could be heard pleading behind jason, anxiously clutching your bag to your chest.

“don’t worry, dollface. so long as your boy toy here doesn’t make any sudden movements, we’re peachy.”

“not you, you idiot,” you scoffed in disgust. “him!”

before the would-be mugger could register what happened next, pain suddenly exploded from his jaw, and white dots clouded his vision as his body fell to the ground with a deafening thud. the knife in his hand was promptly kicked away before jason grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and lifted him to match his height.

“let me make one thing clear,” your boyfriend began to explain with a seething glare. “i’m not trapped in this alleyway with you. you’re trapped in here with me. and if it was just me, i’d call it a day after that punch. but you threatened my girl, so now i’m gonna have to kick your ass.”

“jay, be careful! we don’t have any more bleach at home to clean up your jacket if his blood gets on it.”

“no promises, babe!”

REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated

[wobuffetbreakfast]

❆ ONE LAST KISS

PAIRING : jason todd x gn!reader

ONESHOT : he appeared at your doorstep, broken and tattered, just like he use to

A/N : hurt with LITTLE comfort. mainly hurt tho. just like my heart writing it because how does one capture the yearning of this brooding man??

masterlist

      WORDS lose their meaning as you as he stood in front of you, suit tattered, mask off, face bloodied and bruised. Months of silence broken. Anger and hatred were both things you told yourself you felt for him before, yet as his breath trembles nothing but concern attaches itself to your body. 

      “Hey,” the quiver of his voice reminded you of who he really is. A broken boy who’s lost too much. 

      “Please don’t tell me that’s your blood.”

      His silence was all you needed to pull him into your small apartment. Closing the door behind him as he stumbled to the couch. He hadn’t looked much different than a newborn animal as he huffed, something that was never meant to fight in these wars.

     Months had passed and yet not a thing seemingly changed in your moth-eaten apartment. The same grungy walls that peeled away everytime the two of you argued. The same mangy couch you watched him read on every night. The timeworn coffee table you would sit every time he came home like this. Broken just beyond repair. The same coffee table you’d sit now, for the first time in months, staring into his drained eyes. 

    “Where’s the worst?” Your voice was softer than it needed to be, as if he’d break if you spoke too loosely.

    “My side,” he groaned as he shifted to show you a large gash, it was ugly. Deep. Something personal.

    His labored breathing and soft groans is what brings you back from staring at his side. Only for you to reach under the table, your dusty medical kit there from all those months ago, waiting for his ghost to appear on night like this. You don’t even need to ask for him to remove his armoured top, for when you look back up at him it's the same shirtless body you use to sleep atop of. Just with a few new scars and bruises, new stories he used to tell. 

     “Why didn’t you go home? Alfred could have done better than me… hell even Bruce could have,” your voice still quiet as you lean in to disinfect the area around the wound, your hands moving as his body wasn’t a distant memory. Not caring to be too gentle, you pressed harder, causing him to curse and flinch. “Sorry.”

     “No you’re not.” 

     “No, I’m not.”

     Silence, a familiar one, consumed the two of you as you began to stitch his deep wounds. Threading moving in and out of his thick skin. You leaned onto his chest just enough you can feel the pitters of his heart. Still there, still strong, still him. The pattern a reminder of all the times you’d kiss his wounds better, of all the times you found yourself curled next to him shielding him from his demons. With every hiss you remind yourself that throughout all the pain he caused you at the end of it all, he was still the same man you met all those years ago. 

     And despite it all, he watched you the whole time. Those eyes— cobalt and crushed— soft the way only a soldier’s could be. Like you were something sacred.

     When you finished the last stitch, you placed a cool rag overtop them moving to a tiny cut on his chin. Leaning further as you tilted his head. His breath warmed against your hand as you disinfected it.

     “You have a lot of nerve coming here, you know?” You attempted to hold an angry glare, yet his eyes were so broken, you couldn’t piece together enough anger in you.

     “I’m sorry, I just… it was instinct.” The whine in his voice was all you needed to hear.

     “Jay- Jason. I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t change how it ended. That doesn’t change that we agreed to not talk. It doesn’t change it,” your breath hallowed as you moved his chin upward, for him to truly look into the depths of your eyes. “As much as you need it too.”

     “One last kiss,” His hand finally reached up to hold yours. “Please.”

     You shook your head, before dipping forward to kiss the cut on his chin. When you pulled away all you could see was the pleading eyes, before placing your lips on his. 

     It felt familiar. It felt like home. His whine as you pushed your tongue just barely over his capped upper lip was more heartwarming than you could remember. Before you could feel that time slowing feeling and your heart in your throat, you forced yourself to pull away. Before you were too far gone.

     It took you a few moments to open your eyes, moving your body away. Throwing a bloody rag at him, closing the first aid. Feeling the ache of his eyes on your being as you walked away. 

    “You can stay the night,” you whispered, not daring to look back, knowing his yearns would break every ounce of discipline in your body, “But this is the last time Jason. I mean it. Next time I won’t open the door.”

     This time, you walked away from him. For the first and last time, you walked away first.

     By the time you woke up, the towel and spare blanket was left perfectly folded on that neglected coffee table. Along with a note, only displaying the words “THANK YOU.”

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breakup ? blurbs

tags : breakup angst , communication problems on jason's , falling apart on dick's and tim's part , self doubt and worth , yandere at tim's part slightly

pt 1 (you are currently reading it) , pt 2 (coming soon)

JASON TODD (dc comics)

"i see that you moved on ."

see , the thing about jason peter todd is , that he yearns , he yearns so much , almost as if his heart might overflow . this poor boy has held back on so many things in his life , his love of books , his love for batman , although he is begrudging in it , his love for robin and how much that mattered to him . the thing with jason is that he doesn't risk to fight for certain things he needs in his life , resigning himself to the fact that he can never earn it , as if someone like you would love an undead zombie like him .

see , you tried . you tried your level best , you managed to break down some of his walls , but a relationship is meant to go both ways . you seek stability from him , something that he feels hesitant to give .jason feels scared opening up , darling , his heart is made of glass , jagged edges all around , enclosed under a cemented cage . he cannot help it as you move away from him like sand slipping from his fingers , as he desparately tries to grab the remaining , but fails , resigning himself to the fact.

as he watches onto your apartment , from the rooftops of gotham , with your new partner , jason can't help , but feel barren . there are certain demons that he was born with , and certain demons he made along the way making him who he is now . the echoes of his apologies and unspoken words hang heavily in his heart , bellowing a stormy breeze .

DICK GRAYSON (dc comics)

"it was probably never meant to last."

to capture dick grayson's heart is a feat , but to keep it is even greater.

your relationship at first was textbook cute , he buys you flowers , you go out on dates and all of that , and you were stupid enough to indulge in the fantasies he bought you to. thirty years down the lane , with a house and kids , who didn't dream of it especially with gotham's golden boy ? you did and the price you payed for it hurt so much . it started with the little lies , "babe , im fine." , "babe can we not go anywhere today ?", "sweetheart , i need to go somewhere , not now " . eventually these little lies build up into a mountain , causing cracks in the seemingly perfect facade richard grayson made for himself . somedays he comes with terrifying wounds that you wonder where he got from . he can't tell you that he is nightwing , obviously.

for richard grayson , closure comes from people he knows really well , and totally not civilians like you who didn't know what he went through. technically he didn't tell you anything about him , at all , from family , all you knew he was adopted by a seemingly well off family , after a troublesome event . the questions never went further than that.

eventually , the breaking point came in when he mumbled someone else's name in his sleep . you didn't understand who it was , a childhood friend he still hadn't gotten over , probably ? that was enough to make you pack your bags and leave .

"i can't do this anymore , dick , i'm tired ." and you leave , as nightwing's eyes follow you .

you hope grayson and yourself are happier that way .

TIM DRAKE (dc comics)

"we said we were alright , but look how our paths intertwine ."

maybe it was your fault , maybe it was timothy's fault . it eventually ended up in both of your separation , but it didn't change the fact that both of you still had feelings for each other .

his daily routine was sometimes too scary , staying up each night to solve case after case , souls after souls . to keep up with tim's brillaint mind was a herculean task , which made you wonder how to keep your pace with him . by the time you knew something , he had already figured it out , and he had an annoying tendency to remain secretive even when needed .

"come to sleep , tim ." you had said tiredly , rubbing your eyes as you blinked at your boyfriend who stared at the screen , unflinching .

"not now , i'm not finished ." there it was , the usual dialogue . you have no idea how many times you had heard it . your shoulders heaved as if carrying the weight of the whole world as you exited the room , not unnoticed by tim .

it was no shock to him that you decided to separate out with him .

"it's not working out ." you said , "i need time on myself ," you responded . and tim nodded along , all the while supportive . he always was , wasn't he ?

yes he was , precisely the reason he started watching you in the sidelines , tracking you as precise as a hawk , as unbeknownst to the robin .

he is protecting you , can't you see ? in his own little way .

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mammons devilgram account

mostly filled with his runway shoots, casino photos and his modeling gigs, majolish's top model .

has pics of his demonil luxura 666 car

after party pics with asmo is a MUST , him and asmo collaborate on posts a LOT.

when mc and him start haging out more , he starts posting faceless pics of them together which makes his fans go crazy.

hc he has a pretty good fan following around devildom , since he is one of the most eligible bachelors out there .

hc that he has dated around before with his co models but that all stopped after the exchange program commenced .

occasionally he posts himself and his brothers out on vacay or a night out and that becomes the most liked one on his account .

he and asmo have a pretty solid fan following on social media.

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Redraw Simeon Fallen angel 🪽

First drawing on 2023

Reference

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Weirdly Healing Things to Do When You’re Feeling Creatively Burned Out...

Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.

Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨

Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.

Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.

Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.

Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.

Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch. A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.

Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”

Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.

Let your story be bad on purpose for a day. Like, aggressively bad. Give everyone ridiculous names. Add an evil talking cat. Write a fight scene with laser swords and emotional damage. Just remind yourself that stories are meant to be played with, not feared.

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10 Traits That Make a Character Secretly Dangerous

❥ Disarming Humor. They’re the life of the party. Everyone’s laughing. No one’s noticing how much they aren’tsaying.

❥ Laser-Sharp Observation. They see everything. Who’s nervous. Who’s lying. Who would be easiest to break. And they don’t miss.

❥ Unsettling Calm. Even in chaos, they stay still. Smiling. Thinking. Calculating.

❥ Weaponized Empathy. They know how to make people trust them. Because they know exactly what people want to hear.

❥ Compartmentalization. They can do something brutal, then eat lunch like nothing happened.

❥ Controlling Niceness. The kind of kindness that’s sharp-edged. You feel guilty for not loving them.

❥ Mirroring Behavior. They become whatever the person in front of them needs. It's not flattery. It’s survival—or manipulation.

❥ Selective Vulnerability. They know how to spill just enough pain to make you drop your guard.

❥ History of “Bad Luck”. Ex-friends, ex-lovers, ex-colleagues… they all left under “unfortunate” circumstances. But the pattern says otherwise.

❥ Unshakeable Confidence in Their Morality. They don’t think they’re the villain. That makes them scarier.

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↫↫↫↫↫ 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 '𝘯' 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 ↬↬↬↬↬ a three-part series loosely based on the album by sabrina carpenter, feat. om! mammon x f!reader, 18+ //

COMPLETE

// synopsis: for as long as you can remember, you've been best friends with the indigo-haired boy next door...and for just as long, you've been in love with his sexy, smug older brother, mammon. after both of you move away, you thought you could finally forget about his wide blue eyes & his big bad mm. but as luck would have it, you're moving back home - and so is he. what a coincidence.

if you'd like to join the taglist, please leave me an ask or send me a message <3

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P A R T O N E. " wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs? "

// synopsis: your breakup brings you back to where every gen z ends up eventually... your parents' house. it's moving day, and your best friend levi didn't tell you that his brother mammon is tagging along for a day of heavy lifting. but when mammon goes through your unmentionables, it dawns on you that he might just wanna make you fall in love. will you be able to resist him when you're so fucking horny?

// tropes & content warnings: bsf's brother, strong language, masturbation references, play-fighting, suggestive content, a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs (you do the math)

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P A R T T W O. " just know you'll taste me, too "

// synopsis: your new bestie comes to visit you and your old bestie, but she's not the only visitor in town: you heard mammon's back together with his ex-girlfriend, and if that's true, then you're going out tonight. and if you happen to see you-know-who at the bar, then it's not your fault if you decide to close your eyes and feel his lips. after all, a girl can only stand up to temptation for so long. will she retaliate or take it in stride?

// tropes & content warnings: bsf's brother, strong language, alcohol use, kissing, dubcon, lying & scheming

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P A R T T H R E E. " now he's thinking 'bout me every night "

// synopsis: mammon hasn't stopped thinking about you since you kissed him, and tonight he can't stop blowing up your phone. one minute you're having a girls' night with your bestie, and now he says he can't sleep. oh baby, you know - and after years of pining, you certainly aren't about to turn him down when he shows up to your room looking like that. clearly, you're not the only one who can relate to desperation...

// tropes & content warnings: bsf’s brother, strong language, brief section of smau, smut, oral sex (mouth on vulva), fingering, p-in-v sex, use of petnames like “pretty,” “baby,” “babygirl,” use of “brat,” heavy back-and-forth teasing, creampie (with dubcon), biting, praise, lite spanking, lite dacryphilia

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a/n: when i came up with this idea, i got so excited to try out a new style of fic that's a bit longer & has a continuous storyline!! i feel like it's going to be a real display of how far my writing has come since i started this blog, and i can't wait to share it with you!!

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Me every time in a fanfic they villainise a female character just so there's unnecessary drama or a stupid love triangle:

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PAN-DEMONIUM

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 1.5k synopsis: When your boyfriend forgets to mention his dad is the Batman, things can escalate quickly.  a/n: Instead of working, I found another idea that I dug up from the depths of my crack fic drafts, hope y'all had a laugh.

The apartment was quiet—eerily so, save for the low, comforting sizzle of eggs on the stovetop. It was a familiar sound in the late hours, part of a routine that had etched itself into your life since you found out about your boyfriend’s double identity. Midnight cravings were a constant in this place. Jason would drag himself in from patrol, bruised, half-dead, and starving, usually too tired to eat anything but dry cereal or a protein bar. Somewhere along the way, you’d started preempting his return, slipping out of bed before he could crash onto the couch and coaxing something warm onto a plate.

Tonight was no different. You stood at the stove, barefoot and comfortably wrapped in one of his worn shirts—black, soft, smelling faintly of gunpowder and his cologne. You hummed absently, the tune unrecognizable and slightly off-key, as you nudged the eggs with a spatula. The warmth from the burner was a pleasant contrast to the cool of the tiled floor beneath your feet.

And then you heard it.

A sound—barely audible, but wrong. Not the front door. Not the creak of a windowpane. But something. A shift of weight. The subtle scrape of a boot across hardwood.

You froze.

The spatula paused mid-motion. Your head tilted slightly, listening—straining. Jason always made noise when he came in. A thud of boots. A sarcastic remark. A muttered curse. Sometimes he’d whistle. Always something. And he never forgot to let you know it was him.

“Jason?” you called, your voice a notch quieter than you’d intended. “Is that you?”

No answer.

Your stomach dropped. A cold ripple of dread slid down your spine.

You moved quickly but quietly, turning the burner off. The comforting sizzle of eggs faded into silence. The spatula was abandoned in favour of the frying pan—heavier, more solid in your grip. You adjusted your hold on it, stepping away from the stove and edging slowly toward the hallway.

The shadow at the end of the hall was thicker than it should’ve been—wrong somehow, dense and unnatural. You squinted into the dark, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes struggled to adjust. The hallway had always been dim at night, but this… this was different. It almost looked like the darkness itself was shifting. You took a cautious step forward—and then froze.

He was just suddenly there.

A towering figure. The black cape flowed down his frame like oil, and his cowl obscured his face, two glowing white slits where his eyes should’ve been. He looked like something out of your nightmares. 

You didn’t think. There was no time for logic or reason, only instinct.

With a half-scream, you swung the pan with everything you had.

CLANG.

The sound rang out like a bell, followed by a low, guttural grunt. The man staggered, head jerking to the side as one gloved hand came up to clutch where you’d struck him.

You stared, breathless, pan still raised like a weapon, frozen with adrenaline. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your mind spiralling—

And then the front door crashed open.

“What the fuck?!” Jason’s voice rang out, sharp and alarmed.

You spun around, the frying pan still trembling in your grip. “Jason!” you gasped, relief breaking through in a sudden tidal wave. “There’s a man—he—he broke in—I thought—I didn’t know what else to do—oh my god.”

Jason’s eyes flew past you, quickly scanning the scene—the eggs now dripping in gloppy streaks down the wall, the now-empty skillet in your hands, the looming figure still bent slightly forward, one hand pressed to his temple.

Jason blinked. His mouth opened. Then dropped.

“You hit Batman?!”

You blinked. Slowly turned back.

The man—Batman, the actual Batman—was slowly straightening up, gloved fingers rubbing his cowl covered temple where your frying pan had made contact. The cowl hadn’t even cracked. Not a single tear or dent. He just gave you the smallest, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, as if he were trying to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened.

He looked less furious and more…inconvenienced. A little surprised, maybe. You hoped to God he wasn’t concussed.

You dropped the pan like it had burned you, it fell to the floor with such a loud sound both Jason and the Bat flinched. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, stepping back as panic began to claw its way up your throat. “Oh my god.” You whirled on your boyfriend, wide-eyed and flushed with horror. “I just assaulted Batman. I attacked Batman. I’m going to jail. He’s going to disappear me. Jason, they’re going to find me in Arkham.”

“Jason!” you hissed, slapping his arm with a mixture of panic and outrage. “This is serious! I just committed a felony—with your damn midnight snack!”

Still snorting, Jason tried to compose himself but failed spectacularly. His shoulders were shaking, breath hitching with every suppressed laugh as he leaned against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

He still hadn’t told you. Not the part about who Batman really was. That his adopted father was the Dark Knight himself. That the rest of his so-called siblings also ran around Gotham in capes and masks, playing vigilante just like he did. As far as you knew, Jason was the only one with a flair for crime-fighting and danger. He’d conveniently left out the bat-shaped elephant in the room.

“He’s not gonna press charges, babe,” Jason wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “Jesus. You hit the Bat over the head with a pan. With a pan!” He bent double again, laughing so hard he nearly choked. “Oh man—this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You glared at him like you might hurl the pan at him next, and your mortification only deepened when you turned back to Batman—your face pale as chalk.

“I am so sorry,” you blurted, hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t know it was you. You were in the dark and you didn’t say anything and you’re—well—you’re literally terrifying.”

Batman’s silence stretched long enough that you were genuinely debating whether you should throw yourself out the window when he finally spoke.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gravelly and deep. “You hit me.” He almost sounded surprised, perhaps even confused.

You flinched. “I—I didn’t know it was you! You were just standing there in the dark! You didn’t even say anything! I thought you were a burglar! What was I supposed to do—offer you eggs?”

Behind you, Jason was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to smother his laughter. He wasn’t succeeding.

The Bat didn’t move.

You swallowed thickly, muttering now more to yourself than anyone else. “I can’t believe I assaulted Batman. I’m going to prison. Or Arkham. Or wherever he takes people when they attack him with a frying pan.”

Finally, Batman exhaled, the sound sharp and slow through his nose. “You should’ve been more aware of your surroundings.”

You gaped at him. “Excuse me? You brokeinto our apartment!”

Jason, ever helpful, mumbled under his breath, “Technically true.”

You shot him a glare but turned your frustration back to the source of your near heart attack. “You crept in like some B-rated horror movie villain!” you snapped, the lingering fear in your chest giving way to indignation. “And you have the audacity to lecture me about being aware of my surroundings? At least I listened to my instincts when I heard you move!”

“And your first instinct,” he said flatly, “was to attack me with cookware?”

You met his gaze without flinching this time. “It was cast iron.”

There was a beat of silence—and then Jason lost it all over again. He doubled over, wheezing, his laughter echoing off the hallway walls.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face as if you could physically wipe away the humiliation. Your other arm remained wrapped around your ribs, like you were trying to hold together the shattered remains of your dignity. “Shut up, Jason,” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palm. “This is so humiliating. I literally assaulted Batman.”

“I know!” Jason wheezed, nearly breathless with laughter. “It’s great. Literally the best day of my life.”

From behind you, the Dark Knight’s voice came again—low, grave, entirely too casual. “She’s got a strong swing.”

Jason turned toward him, still grinning like a lunatic. “You should see her when we play baseball.”

A long beat passed, silence settling again.

Then Batman looked directly at you, the white slits of his cowl narrowing slightly. “Next time,” he said evenly, “aim for the jaw. The cowl’s reinforced.”

You blinked. “Wait… what?”

But he was already gone, shadows swallowing the space where he’d stood.

You stared at the space he’d occupied, jaw slack. “I think I just made his criminal list.”

Jason came up behind you, arms wrapping snugly around your waist, still chuckling against the side of your neck. “Nah,” he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. “If anything, I think you impressed him.”

You threw your arms out in exasperation—nearly clocking him in the face with your flailing limbs.

He ducked with a laugh.

“Why else would he tell me to aim for the jaw?” you demanded. “He thinks we’re gonna fight again. He’s preparing me for our next encounter!”

Jason didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Want me to get a new pan?”

“Jason!”

[wobuffetbreakfast]

Can i kindly request that you draw asmo and mammon? NOT in a ship way btw in case you thought it was their just my two favorites. Thank you even if the answers no

TEAM PARTYYYYY

[wobuffetbreakfast]

what shoes the brothers would wear

-> side characters here

a/n: I have to wait two weeks for my exam results, I am too lazy to do work and I have an unhealthy shoe addiction. Put 'em together and you get this. This is just for fun and my opinion/hcs, so please don't take it seriously. Also, I didn't really look closely at their canon shoes for this, I feel like that must be said. In this post, I will be roasting some shoes. Again, this is just my opinion and it's totally okay if you do like them.

I own none of the images used, I just put them together with an editing app.

no content warnings

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Lucifer

mostly formal shoes, one pair of oxfords and a pair of loafers

he also has this ancient pair of high-top dress shoes he rarely wears anymore

honestly doesn't own many shoes, but the ones he does own are made of high-quality material so they can last long

not much else to say

Mammon

the closest thing to a formal shoe he owns are combat boots

he owns a pair of fake jordans, but tells everyone they are the real, expensive thing and will argue with whoever claims they are fakes

also for some reason I see him wearing vans, but not the ordinary black ones

gucci slides, he brought the real ones but lost them so he went on akuzon and got dupes but the second the dupes arrived he found the real ones again, so mammon decided to throw the fakes out but he made a mistake and threw one fake and one real one away

Leviathan

I'm so sorry, levi stans

he buys 99% of shoes on akuzon, so when he bought the jordans for 20 grimm, he still thinks they're the real deal

levi owns a pair of those water shoes for some reason, and proudly wears them in a jacuzzi

he also thinks the water shoes count as formal wear

he owns flip flops in multiple colors and wears them when it is hot, with gym shorts.

Satan

look me in the eye and tell me satan doesn't wear converse

he has this pair of old hiking boots but he replaced them with timbs after the sole fell off

he owns a pair of formal dress shoes but they look like the love child of clown and bowling shoes

he, like lucifer, doesn't own many pairs as he spends his money on books

Asmodeus

I feel like asmo isn't somebody who would buy something a lot of others own too (like white air forces) but he still needs a pretty sneaker, so he got these fancy black and white ones

asmo surely owns a pair of heels, and they are beautiful (btw if anyone knows where to find those heels, or a look-alike in a US6/UK4/EU37, please let me know, I'm too lazy to diy them UPDATE: I found them, thanks anon in my asks)

he also owns a pair of over-the-top platforms, mostly for photoshoots

asmo also owns some oxfords he got for special occasions, but rarely wears them as he goes for the heels instead, unless he's gonna have to walk a lot

he has a lot of other shoes too

Beelzebub

footwear isn't his priority

he has two sneakers: one for everyday wear and one for sports, but sometimes he mixes them up

beel also owns teva knock-offs he got in the discount bin at the dollar store and I feel like he'd wear them with socks

sometimes steals mammon's gucci slides when he quickly wants to buy food

Belphegor

I know almost for sure he is a dr martens owner

but, he heard the breaking-in horror stories and decided to buy second hand ones to skip the step

belphie also owns the bunny slippers mc got for him, he claimed they are dumb but is afraid to wear and accidentally ruin them

also got a pair of regular slides for ease purposes

[wobuffetbreakfast]

Mammon Breaks From His Brother’s Comments Part 5

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Never had Satan imagined for it to be so peaceful.

Whenever the brothers came together—to watch a movie, go shopping or even sit in the same room, it always ended in chaos, with one running after the other, or in petty fights that lasted a whole week.

It is truly a miracle that the brothers are existing in the same room right now.

Mammon and Levi are having another go at the game—'Devilcart,’ as Levi claimed. Asmodeus is applying face masks on everyone in the room, muttering something about their skin drying out. Belphegor is trying to restrain Beel from eating the cucumber placed on his eyes. But Satan slipped from the room.

He didn’t want those facemasks on, having given the excuse of ‘taking a bath.’ A bath was needed but first, he needed to talk with Lucifer.

“I know you’re inside. Ignoring me won’t help anything.” The blonde demon had knocked thrice on the door, and threatened to even break it down, if Lucifer didn’t let him in.

“We need to talk.”

He can hear shuffling from behind, the turning of a lock, a muffled spell to break the curse, and the door slowly creaks open, sanguine eyes glare at him from the darkness before vanishing.

Satan walks inside the dim room, the only source of light being from the fireplace and the moon—the Sun of the Devildom. Lucifer sits on a chair, one leg crossed over the other and his arms in his lap. Like a cat on a throne.

“Speak. If it is about what happened today, then please show yourself out.”

“That is exactly why I’ve come to talk.”

Satan hisses, glaring at the demon who sits poised on his chair. He’s been in this room for merely two minutes and his hands are already itching to grab the poker from the fireplace and impale Lucifer with it.

“You need to apologise.”

Keep reading

[wobuffetbreakfast]

Hello! Could you write "immortality is a curse" with Mammon or Lucifer, please?🥺

Like, they realize their human won't be here forever and will pass away someday?

Mammon never knew something as simple as a mere date could make him cry.

Time was of little to no meaning to beings like him. Hell, Leviathan didn't talk to him for half a century when he broke one of his figurines.

But for humans, half a century meant that their end was near.

Mammon realized this while planning the celebrations for your upcoming birthday. It had been perhaps two, or maybe three years since you had come to the Devildom, and it was a long time for a human, but for Mammon, a blink of an eye.

It's a harsh fact, a bitter epiphany.

His human is...human, and humans die.

Time with you is limited.

His human will die one day, and Mammon will have to watch, watch as you fade away.

You're selfish. You're going to go away and leave him alone at your grave.

Who will now comfort him after his nightmares ?

Defend him from the insults he faces every day ?

Who will love him ?

In the end, he'll be left sobbing. You'll be a bittersweet memory, something that will haunt him in his dreams, make him wake up with tears down his face.

If only he could live and die as a mortal.

If only he was human.

Immortality is a curse. If he could, he'd trade it for a mortal life.

But Father is cruel, and fate is against him. In the end, he'll be left alone with memories of you, the spot next to his bed will be empty one day- the hands that run through his hair will stop one day.

He is greedy for time with you, something that is slipping out of his grasp like sand.

He wishes he could die with you.

Mammon covers his mouth with his hand to ensure the sound of broken sobs doesn't reach and wake you up.

You're peacefully asleep in his lap, with a blissful expression, something that will stop one day.

Immortality is a curse, Greed is painfully reminded that day.