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d11tse · 5 months

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Little comic between Ink and Blueberror!

It's just a fun idea that came to mind. Considering that Berror's abilities never had the chance to be shown, I figured it'd be okay to stray from how Error's, uh, "biology" works.

Sorry if the crop is bad or it's low quality. I've never uploaded something like this (or even really made something like this) to Tumblr before so I may have screwed it up.

Ink belongs to @/comyet, Blueberror belongs to @/loverofpiggies

#ink's design is so cute but SO EXHAUSTING to draw in bulk #how do people stand making comics of genshin characters #ink sans #ink!sans #blueberror #utmv fanart #undertale au #utmv #d11tse_art

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keikoyume · 7 months

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I'm not sure how much, if anything, you know about Helluva Boss but they just revealed a character with a gif and I know he's up your alley:

Mammon, the show's king of greed, he'll make his fat rat bastard debut in an episode slated for Halloween. Hope this can at least somewhat get you into the show :)

(Also sorry for the quality, the grain is an actual effect in the gif and the twitter compression also screws it up a little)

Yooow, thank you for the kind thought!

It's just, for personal reasons I never really was into this show and I don't think I'll really be into it.

RANT (I'm sorry):

In general I’m not fond of trashy/rude animated series. Sex jokes, gore scenes, I just think it’s edgy and most of the time it makes me uncomfortable.

My second and main problem is the fact that all the characters in this show have the same vibe. Their chara design are all similar, I feel like they are all made in order to look conventionally appealing which automatically turns my brain off. Adding the fact they have the same body type (hourglass body with long limbs) makes me very bored.

The artstyle by itself may be interesting and appealing but everything else looks ''''the same'''' (I mean, there's no 'ugly' or fat or old people for example).

Finally, I'd like to repeat that all of this is my very own opinion.

Nothing against you, tumblr user, I just wanted to make the thing clear, thank you for your suggestion!!!!

#ask #prof-ramses #Not to mention that the majority of animalistic characters are very mainstream animals- my brain is gone #I'm not gonna dig into the drama of the creator of the shows but it also doesn't encourage me to watch them #kei telling her life

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anti-katsuki-lounge · 2 years

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Tumblr doesn’t let you reply using your side blogs so this is the best I can do 😭.

Anyways, here’s why I hate Hitoshi:

Simply put, he’s a hypocritical dickhead.

The first time we meet him, he’s taunting 1-A for getting attacked by villains, a traumatic moment for the class. That already doesn’t paint him in a good light, which would be fine if his writing’s good, but it’s not. We then see him mind control his OWN TEAMMATES, which is fucked. Him doing it to an enemy team I understand. It’s part of the competition. But he did it to his own team, who didn’t even get a chance to answer him before he did so? That’s kinda fucked up and breaks a lot of consent boundaries. He also leeched off of them and relied on their abilities to win. Other than the basic “hide in the shadows technique” he did nothing but spam his quirk.

Secondly, a lot of people criticize Izuku for not training his body beforehand, but the fandom somehow forgets that Hitoshi doesn’t either. In fact, he’s even worse in that he hasn’t trained at all. Izuku at least took to analysis, but Hitoshi does absolutely nothing. He got beaten by an Izuku with a broken finger, and in that fight all Izuku did was push him and then flip him. Hitoshi throws a hook at him and it does nothing. I get that Izuku’s at peak physical strength, but if Hitoshi actually trained his body, he’d be able to at least stun him or try judo throwing him or something. Instead he just flops around pathetically and cries. While we never see Izuku learning how to fight prior to U.A, I have two theories on this: either the extra training he did while working for OFA that made him collapse was fight training or he knew how to fight beforehand but wasn’t strong enough to really use his skills effectively. Keeping these two possibilities in mind, what’s Hitoshi’s excuse then? And if Izuku never learned how to fight, it just makes Hitoshi look even worse since somehow Izuku was instinctively able to pick up on some basic hand to hand combat skills while Hitoshi was bitching about his life or some shit.

Third, he’s a hypocrite in that he hates 1A and the other hero courses for their powerful quirks yet he has a powerful quirk himself. Yeah, it’s not flashy, but it’s still stronger than Toru’s (and despite what the fandom thinks, it’s not canon that the robots have an off switch of some kind so if the invisible girl can get in, he has no excuse). He also solely relies on his quirk for the Sports Festival, unlike some of the other characters who’ve actually utilized strategies (Izuku literally didn’t use his quirk for the first part of the Sports Festival or when fighting Hitoshi after freeing himself from the mind control). So Hitoshi seemingly hates people for doing what he does, which is dumb.

The narrative also sucks his dick off, trying to make the audience feel bad for him and letting Shota train him despite him not doing anything that shows he’s worthy of receiving said training. Sadly any attempts at making me sympathize with him doesn’t work for me cause he comes off more as a whiny bitch than someone screwed over by society. If anything, in his flashback, we actually see people praise his quirk, which lowers the impact of his backstory. He also comes off as entitled, as if he thinks just because he got bullied for his quirk it means he’s deserving of being a hero. Sorry, but he didn’t do shit to achieve his dream nor does he possess any heroic qualities. Literally the only reason he wants to be a hero is because his heart desires it, which I’d let slide if he didn’t feel like he was owed a seat despite not working for it. You got other characters who suffered and still worked their asses off to reach their dreams, characters he made fun of and demeaned after they faced such a traumatic moment (the USJ) just because they were born with “strong” quirks (which again is kinda hypocritical of him since his quirk’s better than a good chunk of 1-A and 1-B’s).

In conclusion, he’s a hypocritical dickhead who gets handed things on a silver platter, kinda like Katsuki. I honestly consider him to be Katsuki-lite. Both are dickwads with a superiority/inferiority complex who think it’s ok to be a jackass and never get punished for doing so. The only difference between them is that Hitoshi isn’t a vile abuser who nearly kills his victims, hence why he’s the “lite” version of him. Once again, he’s another character with a solid concept but is poorly executed because Hori forgets that the little things are what makes a character. Had he shown Hitoshi training and more of his backstory, he’d be in a decent place, but Hitoshi comes off as a whiny hypocritical bitch rather than a passionate individual filled with cynicism due to having been dealt a bad hand in life.

#anti bkdk #anti katsuki bakugou #anti bakudeku #anti bakugo katsuki #anti bakugo #anti bakugou #anti hitoshi shinso #anti shinso hitoshi #anti hitoshi #mha critical #shinso critical

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softsophos · 1 year

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Hello friends I am checks notes half a month late for deancasroadtrip (@starcrosseddeancas) 's disneynatural follower celebration and I don't even have a starbucks to show for it.

But, I did accidentally write a 1k word poem for it soooo hi?

I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to format this and eventually decided it was saying slam poem so I recorded myself reading it.

Text is under the cut for those who prefer to read it or understandably don't want to hear me (the audio quality is atrocious I have literally no setup for this I'm sorry) (also yes the audio is in two parts because tumblr hates me)

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, john winchester didn’t raise boys who watch disney movies but, look, dean really was the one who raised sammy and dean, dean was never john winchester now was he

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, dean never watched disney movies okay, but if he did, if he did his favorite part wasn’t the dresses though they sure were pretty, and his favorite part wasn’t the singing like sammy, and okay maybe his favorite part was the talking animals but his favorite favorite part was the good defeating evil, every time, good defeating evil, because sure pretty dresses and jewels weren’t for boys like him, and sure singing a little song was for the unspeakables with their heads screwed on funny, and sure talking animals were unnatural and what’s unnatural gets silver to the heart, but good defeating evil, good defeating evil was for boys like him, good defeating evil was his life his language and there it was, without fail, there it was on the screen, look, the evil queen is foiled, look, prince philip stabs the dragon, silver to the heart, the day gets saved, the evil gets crushed, just like him, just like him

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, budgeting never included movie tickets unless dean got creative but, look, creative was one of dean’s many many middle names, they had a whole word game about it because, you had to get creative to kill long hours too, creativity and killing that was dean so, yeah, if sammy wanted to go see some fish girl whose dad actually admitted he was wrong, some fish girl who was loved and heard even when she had no voice, okay, okay dean wasn’t going to say no to sammy and yeah, look, if sammy wanted to see some nerd girl escape to where she was valued and wanted, some nerd girl who loved without laws of monster and not monster, then, yeah that was probably a bad influence, sammy was reading all the time and sympathizing with monsters all of a sudden, let’s roll that back, so, hey, if sammy wanted to see some tough girl learn to be a man, that’s better, some tough girl who a tough man could love even when he thought she was, nope,

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, when sammy got real into the whole fairy tale thing, like, books from the library into it, like, tell me a bedtime story dean into it, it wasn’t hard because dean could just tack up a once upon a time, throw in some good defeating evil, and spin a tale of hero dad or maybe, or maybe even hero dean but, but then sammy would crash straight past good defeating evil to what about the happily ever after and

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, if dean was confronted by a dragon on his way to the vending machine he’d grab a knife and maybe a shotgun for good measure, if a dozen talking mice started giving him life advice one day his biggest problem would probably be sorting out the advice, weird was weird, sure, but weird was also winchester, and the rules of fairy tale magic or real reality didn’t quite apply the same but, well, life did have some rules and one of those rules was boys don’t watch disney movies, and one was good defeating evil, and one was after all’s said and done you hit the road, you hit the road and you don’t ask what about the happily ever after, okay, okay that doesn’t fit in winchester reality, okay, okay we’re not princesses who sing a little song and get happily ever after, okay, okay what does happily ever after have on a good crisp stretch of freeway and a rinse, wash, repeat, once upon a here we go again

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, the angel castiel, apparently, does raise boys who watch disney movies, the angel castiel, apparently, is willing to drag two grown men, men who were boys once, boys who had known the rules of john winchester once, but the angel castiel is willing to drag them into a blanket fort, a blanket fort made by god, like some stunning new heaven that smells like clean laundry, is willing to drag them there and feed them burnt popcorn, and watch disney movies like it isn’t a sin, watch disney movies like it isn’t a secret, watch disney movies like it isn’t a struggle because, because the angel castiel, apparently, says this is how you love the boy you raise, says this is how you love those two grown men, men who were boys once, says this is how you love your fellow unspeakables with their heads screwed on funny, because the angel castiel, apparently, says dean never was john winchester now was he, says it with love

Kill the Beast, Save the Princess, Rinse, Wash, Repeat now, look, dean does watch disney movies okay, watches them with a home full of family and a heart full of love and a head full of those way too catchy tunes, and jack’s favorite part is the dresses, and they keep spilling chocolate milk on them, and sammy’s favorite part is the singing, and he’s honestly not half bad, and cas’ favorite part is the talking animals, and dean can never tell if he’s joking when he says he can talk to animals too, but dean’s favorite part, dean’s favorite part is the happily ever after, happily ever after for boys like him, happily ever after is his life his language and there it is, without fail, there it is, now, look,

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andizoidart · 2 years

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A choice has been made, for better or worse?

————————————————————————

This is about three to four years after the previous day’s comic. The three spent an extensive amount of time trying to make everything work, but Nightterror couldn’t hurt Mocha anymore.

Fluffynightkiller week belongs to @help-im-a-gay-fish Stalker belongs to @bobateaboo Nightterror and Mocha belong to myself

Day Four: Parting Gift

more info under the cut

I’m really sorry if the picture is blurry, I’m actually having some vision issues right now and that is what looked clearest to me. That, or tumblr decided to screw up my quality.

Once again going to list the Dialogue, slightly differently-

[Panel one: “Mocha: Boys! I’m home! …”] [Panel two: “Mocha: Guys?”] [Panel three: “Mocha: Hellooo? Night?”] [Panel four: “Mocha: Stalker? Where—”] [Panel five: “Mocha: …”] [Panel six: “Nightterror: My darling Mocha, I haven’t been completely and fully honest.”] [Panel seven: “Nightterror: I cannot explain over 500 years of incidents in one letter, however, you must not blame yourself for this…”] [Panel eight: “Nightterror: The truth is that I am no longer in full control of myself. My corruption is eating away at my soul more each day. If I can find a way to reverse the effects of the corruption, I can free myself, and free Stalker of its control. Stalker had no choice in this matter. Perhaps, third time is truly the charm. — N ”]

Original Nightmare belongs to @/jokublog Original Killer belongs to @/rahafwabas Original Ccino belongs to @/black-nyanko

#andi speaks #andizoid #andizoidart #my art #my character #not my character #nightterror!nightmare #nightterror #stalker!killer #stalker #mocha!ccino #mocha #fluffynightkiller #fluffynightkiller week #help-im-a-gay-fish #abuse mention tw #tw abuse mention

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adamsvanrhijn · 2 years

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as an english major i can confirm that a lot of english majors are extremely smug and think that because they read books they have critical thinking skills (they do not). once almost lost my mind bc a classmate was going off on how the hunger games was anti feminist bc katniss hated feminine things like cooking and cleaning and makeup.

also a 5 second google search reveals the wikipedia page for the turn of the screw which has an entire section talking about marxist and feminist interpretations of the work. im sorry this post is making me fucking insane i cant stop thinking about it

jflasfdjlkadslf god yeah that post made me. lose my mind (this response is like. days late sorry!!)

yeah i am a Former English Major... also called English Degree Haver.... english majors are a. how do you say. special group of people in general to begin with but i really question the quality of education at various As An English Major tumblr users' alma maters.....

i think all study necessitates some humility if you want to actually learn, but the humanities in particular are an area where because so much of it is rooted in the subjective, some people view it as something that is also rooted in the emotional/Feelings aspect + internalize All Opinions Are Valid to the point that it really, really inhibits analysis.... i'm a Search For Truth type researcher and in subjective fields that is a goal that you can never really completely fulfill and i think taking stock of that is important! it can be easy to forget.

but also some people just don't care about examining anything contrary to the assumptions they already carry with them..... and also perhaps just don't think about things very critically in general, so you end up with people on tumblr dot com being like "As an English major, can confirm that if you choose one school of literary analysis, you will read texts with that school of literary analysis in mind, which is bad"

idk man!!!

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azuries · 5 years

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ok so i’ve been watching love, death and robots and the first episode’s girls gave me some MAD lightcannon vibes so i just had to.. d-draw them.. dfjdkf.gg.f.g.g.

also can we just pretend the last minutes of the episode didnt happen and for those who watch it you know what im talking about : ^)

#piano arts #lightcannon #jinx #lux #jinx x lux #lux x jinx #league of legends #love death and robots #tumblr really screwed up the quality of thsi i am Sorry

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seraphimoth · 6 years

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I set the contact pictures for my friends as Persona 5 characters and it has not disappointed me

#i also have the app that makes my messages look like the phone on the game #so its fun #gosh tumblr is really screwing with the quality of the screenshot sorry dudes #persona 5 #futaba sakura

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divine-mistake · 3 years

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virtue and vice

Summary: What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-size (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (vaginal fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, bit of a Dom Bucky Barnes), language, insecurity (weight issues, a little perceived fatphobia which is wiped out really soon after)

Word Count: 6120

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested a Bucky/Plus-sized reader enemies to lovers who have to share one bed with smut. I loved this request and really hot to make something hot and rough and fast! Thank you so much for the request - enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

It finally happened, the one thing you prayed would never ever happen, the thing you’ve been dreading since you started joining James Buchanan Barnes on his stealth missions, the event that will inevitably spark your downward spiral into doom, destroying the crumbs of the relationship you’ve managed to build with him.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, barreling through the motel room like a ping pong ball with a little too much pent up energy.

You shrug your bag off your tired shoulder, letting it fall to the ground, not caring about how dirty the carpeting must be.

“At least it’s a queen,” you say, toeing off your boots. “I’ve had worse with Steve.”

Bucky turns to glare at you over his shoulder. “You’ve shared a bed with Steve?” he says, accusation rising in his tone. You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“I’m sorry—are you saying you haven’t? ‘Cause I call bullshit on that.”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to sift through his duffel bag instead. You shrug despite the fact that he can’t see you.

“I mean, it’s pretty routine, isn’t it? I’ve shared with Natasha, too. Sometimes you just have to make do.”

“Yeah but it’s Natasha,” he says like it matters. “I can’t believe you’ve slept with Steve.”

“God, Bucky, it’s only weird if you make it weird, and you’re making it weird.”

He straightens now, body stiff, one of his hidden holsters hanging from his vibranium hand. He doesn’t look at you and you’re too tired to start a fight—much less finish it—so you hope he just goes ahead and fucks off to the shower which you know he’s getting ready to do. He’s always been selfish like that. But it’s also not so selfish, you think, for someone like Bucky to want to wash the missions away as soon as possible.

But the bastard could ask sometimes, couldn’t he?

“I’m going first,” he says, just like always, and you bite your tongue.

“‘Kay.”

You turn and sigh, focusing your glare on the one bed filling the motel room. If there was one thing you always hoped for after a mission, it was not to end up in the same bed as James Barnes. The two of you notoriously don’t get along, for whatever reason that may be (although you’re pretty sure it has to do with the fact that he thinks you’re a useless addition to the team), but there is literally no denying the attraction you felt for him.

The man is hot, and he’s had a couple, or maybe most, of the screws in his head knocked loose.

You have it bad for him.

Oh, but James Barnes is not fond of you. Not that he would ever admit it, but the dude has some serious fatphobia going on. You’re ninety-nine-percent sure of that.

Alone in the bedroom, you start to strip out of your tac-suit, letting your gun belt and the rest of your holsters fall in a ring around your feet. As soon as the heaviness is off you, relieving some of the ache in your body, you think about just falling straight into the bed blood and dirt and grime and all. But you’re also sure Bucky would lose his mind if you did that.

Instead, you look to the floor length mirror just in front of the motel door, frowning.

Your skin-tight suit doesn’t do much to hide all the lumps and bumps and dips and hips all squished into it, and when you’re covered in tiny cuts and burns on every visible patch of skin, you can’t help but think about how Bucky sees you.

The useless fat Avenger! How fun.

You turn to the side a little, glancing at the fullness of your ass. Nice. A redeeming quality of the extra weight you carry atop the strong muscle you’ve built in your short time as part of the Superhero Menagerie. Not having a gimmick of any kind really forced you into working for the position—and now you’re not just the useless fat chick, you’re the super hacking, super gun toting, mega-badass fat Avenger instead.

The shower squeaks and the water stops, signaling the end of Bucky’s shower.

You look up to the ceiling, praying to some god to hear you that everything will work out just fine.

And then Bucky exits the bathroom, steam flooding from the room, wrapped only in a thinning motel towel secured by his metal hand at his waist. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen his chiseled figure, but there’s something that jumps up your throat at the thought that you have to shower in that same shower and then sleep in the same bed as the bed that body is sleeping in.

Oh, fuck.

“All yours,” he murmurs, not even looking at you.

“Great.” You grab your change of clothes and head for the bathroom, trying to think about anything except him.

When you smell less like blood and asbestos and more like strawberries and peaches, hair damp and a clean t-shirt and sleep shorts sticking to your heat-splotched body, you enter the bedroom once again. Bucky is sitting against the headboard, going through his phone now that you’re both safe and secure in France, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants.

Okay, act cool. Just get into bed and pretend like it’s not weird.

You pad over to the bed, grimacing at the feel of the gross carpet beneath your clean feet, hopping beneath the sheets as quick as possible. If Bucky looks at you, then you don’t see it, because you are focused solely on not looking at him. Petty? Perhaps. Keeping your sanity intact? Absolutely.

“You tired?” he asks and you snort.

“Extremely. You don’t have to turn off the light if you aren’t ready to sleep, though.” You situate yourself as far on the edge of the bed as possible—something you’ve never done with any of the other people you’ve been forced to share a bed with. You and Natasha aren’t new to sleeping together, especially after some of the nights out you’ve shared, but you and Steve definitely cuddled, though you wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Steve’s just kinda lonely, you think. And to be honest, you’re a little touch-starved yourself.

But you know you take up a lot of space and you’re sure Bucky hates that, so you bury yourself under the motel sheets and snuggle up to your pillow, trying to make yourself as small as humanly possible.

After a moment, Bucky asks, “Are you comfortable like that?”

You crack an eye open and twist to look at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t you tell me not to make it weird? You’re making it weird now.”

“You already made it weird.”

“I’m trying not to make it weird anymore.”

“A little late for that—”

“God, just, c’mere.”

Bucky grabs you around your waist, your shirt riding up, and pulls you closer. You shriek in surprise, eyes wide, as he manhandles you until you’re away from the edge and your back is pressed against his bare chest.

“There—that’s better,” he says, nearly whispering in your ear he’s so close to you now. He unwinds his arm from your middle and reaches up to hit the light, the room going completely dark save for the little sliver of artificially light pouring in from underneath the shitty curtains.

You don’t even know what to say. Bucky’s rendered you completely speechless.

First of all, the man has never touched you for no reason like that before. Second of all, how the hell did he just move you like you weighed the same as the pillow beneath his head? Third of all, he hates you, so why is he so bothered about you and your comfort? Fourth, he just moved you around like you weighed literally nothing.

And boy, did it send a flood of pleasure straight to your core, almost as if your body just gave the green light to your libido. The perfect time too, y’know, when you’re sharing a bed with your co-worker who hates your guts.

Play it cool. Just play it fucking cool.

“Uh, are you okay?” you ask him in return, and Bucky shifts so his back is pressed up to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay. Good night.”

“Night.”

What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Your brain turns and turns and turns, body straining to stay as still as possible to not upset the super soldier sleeping right beside you. What does he have against you? Why does he hate you so much? You really thought once you started going on more missions—proving you were worthy to be a part of the team—that he’d start coming around and seeing your value. But you feel like all it’s served is to make him hate you more, especially now that you tag along on his stealth operations as his techie.

Maybe he knows you’re into him, and maybe that’s why he never wants to be around you. But, god, it’s not like you think you have a chance with him in any capacity, and you’d pass up tens of thousands of chances to be with him if he’d just be your friend!

Because Bucky deserves another friend, doesn’t he?

As if he can read your mind—or maybe it’s just god playing tricks on you—Bucky shifts around in the bed again, turning toward you. You don’t know if he’s sleeping yet or not, but you curl in on yourself a little to give him more space to stretch out.

Bucky’s vibranium arm slides over your waist, cool metal grazing by the sliver of skin peeking out from underneath your shirt, and when you flinch from it, he pulls you flush against him. Behind you, the bare skin of his chest is warm, almost too hot. Super soldiers run warmer than normal humans, and you think he’d be nice to have in bed more often.

In your ear, Bucky groans in his sleep and it makes you shiver despite the heat radiating through your back. He must be like Steve, wanting to cuddle in his sleep. No one ever wants to admit it out loud, but you’re the best thing to cuddle in the Tower. Being squishy and soft atop hard, strong muscle means you’re more comfortable than all the rigid bodies of the Avengers. Maybe Bucky needs this.

But you wish you could fall asleep so you’ll stop thinking about how much you’ve wanted this since the day you saw him, the new Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, hair tied up in a messy bun and stubble thick and dark, vibranium arm hidden within the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Suddenly, everything is too hot. The room, the motel sheets, the pillow beneath your head. Bucky Barnes behind you, arm slung over your body, holding you to him. He’s sleeping, you know, the quiet rumble of his breathing a song in your ear, chest rising and falling against your back. You shift a little, trying to get more comfortable as the warmth starts to become unbearable. When that doesn’t help, you shift again, trying to pull your back away from Bucky, but it sends your bottom half straight into his.

A growl brushes by your ear all breathy and low and Bucky’s arm tightens around you, bringing you back to him.

Damn, who knew Bucky was such a cuddler when he’s sleeping?

You wait a few minutes, keeping still, until you’re sure he’s slipped back into unconsciousness. His nose is nearly pressed into your hair, his breaths upsetting the small wisps of hairs that curl at your ear. Sweat is starting to collect underneath your shirt where your bodies are connected and you know you’ll never be able to fall asleep like this.

Again, you shift toward the edge of the bed, trying to pull yourself out of Bucky’s grasp, but he drags you back into his embrace. The swell of your ass meets his thigh and in a panic, you move around to try and put space between the two of you again, but Bucky lets out a strangled-sounding groan, hissing through his teeth.

“You gotta stop moving, doll, or you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

He is not asleep.

“Bucky?” you squeak, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Hm?” His metal hand sneaks underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your soft skin and thumb starting to rub little circles just above your hip, a point of pleasure on your body. No one ever touches you here, and it takes everything you have not to press back into him, asking for more. Your breathing is heavier now as you try to control yourself.

“You aren’t—Why aren’t you sleeping?” you ask, sounding winded from the simplest act of him touching you.

“Hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” he murmurs in your ear, nose brushing up against the patch of skin behind it. Your eyes flutter closed. Every small touch feels like heaven. You never allow others to touch you more than necessary, but now Bucky is handling you so gently.

“I can’t sleep either,” you whisper. “Do you want me to go? I can take a walk.”

He makes a noise of disapproval. “Just stay still,” he says, almost begging. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s hot,” you whine. “You’re too hot.”

You can feel him smirk into the back of your neck. “You don’t gotta tell me, doll.”

“Shut up,” you say with a huff of frustration, wiggling in the bed to get your point across. Immediately, Bucky’s vibranium hand falls to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough for the flash of pain to turn to pleasure, holding you still.

“I said stop moving,” he says, and it's so close to a command that your teeth tear into your bottom lip as his voice sends shocks through your core. Now, hyperaware of how close your bodies are underneath the sheets, you realize your ass is pressed against his pelvis, not his thigh, and you’ve definitely been—

Bucky grinds into you, seething, breath ghosting over your ear, his cock hard and heavy in his sweatpants.

Wetness pools between your thighs, dampening the thin cotton panties you wear beneath your sleep shorts.

“Bucky,” you breathe his name. “What are you doing?”

“So tired of you teasin’ me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “I’ve put up with it for so long—too long—and I just knew you were gonna do it tonight, too. Only one fucking bed. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

Your voice sounds so small when you whisper, “What are you talking about?”

Then Bucky lays a kiss to the back of your neck, trailing upward until he reaches the lobe of your ear, and pulls it into his mouth and between his teeth. You shiver, violently, unable to stop the reaction. It must please him because he yanks your hips back into him again, forcing you to grind on his bulge.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, muffling whatever sounds threaten to fall from your lips.

“Doll, you’ve been teasin’ me from the beginning. From the moment I saw you in your gear on the Berlin mission, all your curves on display in that tight little cat-suit you’re always wearing, armed to the teeth, handling all those guns looking so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You swallow hard. The Berlin mission, your first stealth mission with Bucky, had gone sour and the two of you found yourselves in a gun fight that was never meant to happen. You’re pretty sure you walked back onto the quinjet covered in blood, bruised, and a gash in your thigh that made you wobble when you stood up, and Bucky didn’t even look at you as per usual. Bucky never looks at you on missions unless he absolutely has to.

Wait.

“Is that why you never look at me?” you ask him, and you wish you could see his face right now, but all you can feel is his lips as they pepper kisses along the column of your throat, coaxing shudders and little squeaks out of you.

“You expect me to look at you without wanting to jump your bones, doll?” His nose caresses the spot at the top of your spine, his fingers melting at your hip and soothing the bruises you’re sure he’s already left. “That’s just askin’ too much, baby. How am I supposed to look at you and stop myself from kissin’ you silly?”

Pleasure flutters through your stomach, surging through the apex of your thighs.

“Then do it,” you tell him. Bucky goes still, unmoving, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too hard.

But then his voice is low, dark, in your ear. “You don’t know what you’re saying, doll.”

The honey dripping from your center, pooling in your underwear, says very differently. Instead of answering, you press your ass back into him, gyrating your hips straight upon his pelvis, rubbing against his clothed cock. Bucky chokes.

And then he’s up and above you, rolling your body beneath him, caging you between his arms. You nearly gasp when you look up at him, his blue eyes intense in a way you’ve never seen them before, his lips pink and swollen from biting—you’re sure yours look the same and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

Bucky leans closer, his mouth only inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes threaten to flutter shut in anticipation but you force yourself to look at him, to take all of him in.

“If you want this, I won’t be able to hold myself back, doll. Wanted you too long. Need you.”

Then, he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“But if you don’t,” he swallows, “then we’ll forget this ever happened, and everything will go back to normal.”

Fuck that.

“Kiss me, sergeant,” you command, hand shooting up to tangle in his thick hair.

Bucky curses and then he’s on you before you have a chance to reach up and meet him halfway. His lips are rough, chapped, but plush and perfect against yours. He wastes no time, tongue licking into your mouth and meeting yours, tasting you for the first time. You respond eagerly, hand fisting in his hair, pulling him into you until you can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins.

When he’s satisfied with how kiss-drunk you look, lips swollen and eyes hazy, he moves to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, causing you to cry out. The pain and the pleasure mingle, like lovers, like you and Bucky, as his fingers take hold of your shirt and in one tug, the fabric pulls apart at the seams.

You don’t care—you can buy a new shirt. You need him to touch you.

Until you realize you aren’t wearing a bra and that your top half is completely bare to Bucky, the man who, before a minute ago, you thought hated you because you were fat. Because it was the only explanation you had. Because you’re insecure.

Your hands fall upon his chest, bracing against him, stopping him in his tracks. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, brows drawn together in confusion, and all you can do is try and cover yourself with your arms before he gets a peek. It’s dark, but super soldiers can see in the dark. A blessing and a curse.

“I don’t want you to look at me,” you whisper so quietly you realize no normal person would have been able to hear it. “I’m—I shouldn’t have let you—I’m so fat, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes you, his flesh hand coming up to cradle your cheek, fingers brushing delicately over your skin. “You don’t believe me when I say I want to see you? Doll, your body drives me insane, and god, every time you get an attitude with me and you put your hands on your hips and you look at me all mad…”

Bucky groans and he rocks his pelvis into yours, hard cock hitting your center and making your breath hitch.

“You’re beautiful, baby. Gorgeous. Do you know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes ‘cause you’re just so pretty? More than pretty, I don’t even know the words to tell you, baby. Please, please don’t hide yourself from me, let me look at you, let me touch you, baby. S’all I want to do is look at you for the rest of my life.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s thumb swipes a tear away and you blink, and he’s smiling at you so warmly, really looking at you, maybe for the first time ever since you’ve known him.

“You think so?” you ask, breathless. “Even though you’re so—so good, Bucky, so beautiful and so good.”

He rests his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, your essence, your soul. You nuzzle into his palm, kissing the center of his skin where his lifeline sits among other small scars. Then, you pull your arms away from your body, moving to wrap them around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as you tip your chin up to slant your mouth over his. Bucky returns your enthusiasm, tongue meeting yours sweetly, and then metal fingers are trailing up your side.

Bucky pulls away, searching your eyes for consent.

“Say you’re mine,” he begs. “Say you’re mine, baby, but if you do, I won’t be gentle.”

You look up at him from underneath your lashes, already heady with the feeling of Bucky wanting you, desiring every part of you.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, and the mood in the room shifts violently.

In an instant, Bucky pulls your arms away from where they’re wound around his neck and pins them over your head, metal fingers locked around both your wrists. It makes you arch into him and then his nose is tracing your sternum, a line down your center, cutting you in half until his flesh hand attaches to your breast and his lips find your nipple.

Just like he said, he’s not gentle, and it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, lids fluttering, as his teeth nip and tug at the delicate bud. His tongue follows the performance, sucking and soothing the pain away with sweet licks until he’s bored and moves onto the other one.

He lifts his head up to say, “Don’t move your hands,” and then his vibranium fingers find the hardened, sensitive nub and begin to twist and pull at it as his lips play with the other. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain is a shocking reminder of who is playing your body like a symphony. You arch your breasts toward him, you roll your hips up to meet his bulge, you do anything you can to relieve the pressure that’s building in your core, screaming at you that you need his touch.

“Bucky,” you call out, moaning, struggling to keep your hands near the headboard.

“Do you need more, sweet girl?”

“Please,” you beg and press your center up to rub his cock. “It aches,” you whine.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me touch you? Let me make the pain go away, baby?”

His words send new waves of pleasure through you, every part of you flushing with heat, your thighs squeezing together as if you can hide your leaking core from him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Bucky.”

He lays kisses on the underside of your breasts, just below them, like he’s following the lines of your ribs as he moves down toward your stomach—the part of you that you hate the most. You struggle underneath him.

“Not there,” you say as he places open-mouthed kisses on your soft belly. It tickles and makes you tremble and writhe.

He chuckles darkly. “I thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” Both hands fall upon your hips, trapping you, fingers digging into your soft, pliant flesh as he nuzzles and licks and nips and kisses your stomach. You throw your head back, dizzy at the thought of what your body will look like tomorrow, purpled bruises made of passion.

“I’m a good girl,” you pant, mouth falling open as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Then let me touch you, doll. All of you—I want all of you.”

You hear the sound of fabric ripping before you feel the cool air rush over where your sleep shorts are no longer, Bucky tosses the tatters of fabric over the edge of the bed. He inhales sharply at the sight of you, hands roaming over the wide breadth of your hips as if he can’t even draw himself away, smoothing over your stretch marks with loving strokes until he finds the thick expanse of your bare thighs.

Bucky’s thumb brushes over your clothed cunt, panties drenched, and a strangled moan flies from your mouth as you press toward him, begging for more.

“This all for me?” he asks, voice gravelly. “My pretty baby is all wet like this for me? Christ, doll, you’re dripping.”

“Yes!” you shout as metal fingers hook around your underwear to rip them off, parting your lips to watch your slick seep from your aching core. “It’s all for you, Bucky, all of it.”

He groans at this. “Good girl,” he praises you. “That’s my good girl.”

And then he sinks two fingers into you, your juices soaking his hand almost immediately, and pumps into you like his life depends on it. The pleasure is too much, and when his thumb finds your clit and begins to slide over it, your knees try to close out of instinct, hips canting away from the pleasure. Bucky growls and wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you close, baring your naked body to him and him alone.

“You like that?” His voice is low, teasing, so fucking hot you can’t do anything but gasp for breath. “You’re sucking my fingers in, baby. So tight. Gotta work you open or you’re never gonna be able to take my cock, honey.”

You whimper his name, hips twitching under his grasp, crying out as every stroke of his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. When he adds a third, you think you might die from the mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls.

“You’re such a good girl,” he coos. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you? Been teasin’ me too long, and now you’ve gotta take it all, baby.”

He drives his fingers inside and hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you and it breaks you apart, tears you asunder, you’re arching off the bed and Bucky holds his thumb on your clit as you undulate upon his fingers. You can feel the gush of come that trickles down his thick fingers, and then he pulls out and places them in his mouth, licking your honey from the digits as the aftershocks of your orgasm wrack through you.

And when you can finally open your eyes, vision hazy, Bucky is looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust, licking your juice from his lips, grinning.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises again and the fire of pleasure and want and need ignites.

“Need you,” you whine, “right now, please, please sergeant.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You don’t know what you do to me when you say that, doll.”

You definitely know what you do to him, and you’re gonna keep saying it and saying it until he’s yours, forever, until the end, until he’s buried so deep inside of you that you could die happy.

Staring up at him, your face flushed, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and spread among the motel pillows, you think you might be in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Need me to fuck you, baby? Fuck, you drive me so fuckin’ crazy. I’m crazy about you, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect, so soft, so beautiful.” Bucky’s hands touch every part of you, even the places you hate. He finds the soft rolls of fat you try to work off at the gym, finds the squishy parts of your upper arms you think look unsightly when you’re hacking into HYDRA’s systems, fingers flying over the keyboard. He passes over your stubbly legs, a little sharp from three days of not shaving while on the mission, he caresses the dimples of cellulite in the backs of your thighs you hate so much.

And then he pushes the waistband of his sweats down and kicks his pants off, his cock exposed and standing attention all red at the tip and thick and hard and hot, and his hands slide underneath your thighs and press you up until you’re angled to take him.

He hesitates though, you feel it. And god, you’d do anything for him.

“Fuck me, sergeant,” you beg so prettily, and Bucky growls.

His hips snap into yours, cock sliding through your walls, parting you for him, splaying you open, stretching you, burning you, he’s everything. Bucky gives you one second to adjust and then he’s moving within you, the pain blurring into pleasure, your head thrown back, keening, moaning, crying out, nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hisses, sweat dripping down his temple as he rams into you over and over and over. “Give it to me, baby. You feel so good.”

“Harder,” you manage in between your shrieks and moans and Bucky answers your call with a response. He drags you toward him until your hips are attached to his, connected, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, the darkest parts of you, and you sob as the new angle makes you feel every single drag of his length. The head of his cock pierces you, smashing against the spot that makes you keen, and the pressure is building up within you again.

Bucky’s fingers find purchase in the plush flesh that sits on your hips, dragging down until he’s digging into your thick thighs, the sharp pain a beacon cutting through the haze of pleasure you’re locked in as he fucks you. It’s building, building, building, pressure, building.

“Come for me,” he snarls, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, like he can feel how close you are. And for the second time, your body is shattered and your orgasm breaks like a wave crashing against the shore, swallowing you whole until you’re lost in everything that is Bucky.

You scream his name, legs tightening around him like you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, and his words are lost on you.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s my good girl, coming so sweet around my cock, god you feel so good baby, so tight, such a good little girl.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you whine as your slick slips out of you, his cock coated in your essence, smearing it against your inner thighs. But it doesn’t last that long. With an immediacy that turns you on—he wants you, he wants you so bad—Bucky grabs you and flips you over, putting you on your hands and knees. His palm forces your head down, back bowing until you’re arched with your ass upturned, face smashed into the pillows.

“God,” he groans, “this fuckin’ ass of yours, baby. It gets me in so much trouble, d’ya know that? You don’t even know how many times I’ve caught myself watching the way your ass swings when you walk, like y’gotta purpose, like you don’t even know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

Bucky’s hands round over your ass, caressing them gently, then grabbing fistfuls of your flesh until you’re crying out once again. It makes you lean back into him, trying to seek out the pleasure of him, wiggling as if you can entice him to stuff you with his cock again.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathes, and then he gives your right cheek a slap that makes you shriek, laying a kiss on it just after to soothe the pain.

“Please sergeant,” you gasp. “Please, please, I need you to fuck me again.”

“You want me to fuck you again?” he asks, smug. “I just fucked you ‘till you came around me, baby. You need me to do it again?”

It’s humiliating, but your words are jumbled as you cry and beg and cry and beg for him to take you again. You need him. You need him to fuck you. You need Bucky Barnes to do anything and everything to you.

He leans over you, breath hot on the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, again and again and again.”

And then he slams back into you, the angle so much deeper this time, cock hitting the back of your cunt like he was made for you—like you were made for him.

You can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but drool into the pillow as he takes you from behind like a wild animal. The sounds that pour from your open lips are heady and strung together, making no sense, but Bucky knows what you need. He fucks you raw, fucks you hard, fucks you until you know you’ll be covered in bruises in the morning. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him because you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up.

When his thrusts become sloppy, Bucky takes his vibranium hand and searches for your clit, making you cry out. It’s too much—the overstimulation. You’re too sensitive, too exhausted, too fucked out to take the pleasure anymore. But you clench around him, the sloppy sounds of your wet heat taking Bucky as he pounds into you making you flush, and the coil in your stomach is tightening.

“Give it to me,” Bucky commands, ramming into you impossibly harder, fingers sliding over your slick clit. “Give it to me, baby.”

You whine his name and Bucky’s free hand smacks your ass again, the sound of flesh on flesh mingling with the sound of him fucking you.

“You said you’d be good,” he grits through his teeth. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“You’re a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my good girl?”

“Yes, sergeant, yes!”

“Then give it to me. Come, baby, come for me, one more time.”

And like that, you come apart, knees collapsing beneath you. Bucky catches you in his arms, thrusting once, twice more, and then buries himself so far inside of you that you barely feel his hot seed spurt inside of you, coating your insides.

You fall to the bed and Bucky follows, pulling out of you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest in the very position that started this all. He peppers kisses over the expanse of your shoulders, behind your ear, and then turns you until he can connect his lips to yours. Bucky kisses you like he means it, like he wants it to last forever.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers against your mouth, then he’s off the bed and headed for the bathroom. You lay there in bliss, staring up at the ceiling with lidded eyes, unable to think of anything but the pleasure and exhaustion that make up your body right now. When Bucky returns, he has a ratty washcloth in hand and he uses it to clean between your legs. It’s warm and he’s gentle, leaving you shivering when he’s finished.

When he climbs back in bed, he tucks a piece of your matted hair behind your ear, smiling at you.

“Such a good girl,” he says, one last time, and it makes you smile. “My good girl,” he murmurs as he kisses you again.

“Yours?” You look up at him, blinking innocently.

“Mine.” Bucky lays your head upon his bare chest. “All mine.”

You fall asleep before him to the sound of his breathing, sharing the same bed with your co-worker Bucky Barnes, who you really think you might be in love with, especially as he strokes your hair so softly until your eyes fall, heavy.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic!#smut fic #thanks for supporting me!#divine masterlist

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 2 years

Text

Cryptid Hunting

Meet Cute Monday 30 (on a Tuesday)

Timari January Prompt: Proposal

I had half another idea written when I got inspired by some Tumblr posts (linked at bottom due to 'spoilers'). Stupid evil brain going off on tangents and this was created instead. I may one day finish the other one… maybe…

Also sorry this is late, last week was busy with work and courses as well as feeling blurgh so sleep became priority.

NW: swearing due to Jason

Masterlist

MCM Masterlist

…………………………………………

The batfam stared at Tim.

Tim stared back at them.

Everything they needed to know about his proposal was in the briefing packs in front of them. He'd presented his findings with well thought out arguments and with thoroughly researched evidence in a PowerPoint. His proposal was completely sound and should be compelling. But they were just staring at him.

The awkward glances amongst them were starting to annoy him as well.

"Baby bird, don't take this the wrong way," as soon as that statement left Dicks mouth, Tim knew he was going to take it the wrong way just to spite his eldest brother, "when was the last time you slept."

Yup, Tim knew he was right, he was definitely taking that statement the wrong way. Dick yet again wasn't believing him and thinking he's lost it. It was getting repetitively frustrating with the lack of trust in his analysis and blaming everything on his state of mind. He narrowed his eyes and his adoptive father's son.

"What's that got anything to do with this? You've seen the photos. It's something that we really need to investigate. That isn't photoshop."

"Quality is pretty shit Pretender."

"That WHY we need to look into this more!!! The sightings are focused around a set area. We NEED to add a loop to a patrol route to investigate. It's in your claimed territory Jason. Haven't you heard anything about it?"

"Baby bird, please… when did you last rest?"

"Shut it Goldie, Timber is right that there have been whispers near the narrows but there's always whispers. 'Mothman' hasn't done anything to anyone…"

"Yet! Jason Mothman exists. He's HERE in Gotham and he hasn't hurt anyone YET! I've given you all the evidence!! If we got a proper photo and better yet, caught him. We'd have proof!!"

Duke cautiously raised his hand, eyes darting between the trio, unsure of what was actually happening.

"Uhhh are we actually saying that we have the start of evidence that a cryptic actually exists?"

"Yes!!"

Tim exclaims, exasperatedly. Finally someone was getting the point. Duke got it, potentially, he was still having a bemused look upon his face but he was taking the information in correctly.

"All right, why the heck not. I'm in Timbo. But I'm not going hunting mythical beasts when you look more zombie than me. You nap! Then we plan and get our hunting fame on!"

In the background Cass and Duke nodded in agreement to the proposal.

"What?! Guys!! You can't be serious. Tim, baby bird, nap but you don't need to do this."

"Whatever Goldie. I'm gonna win this week's best sibling award so screw you."

Jason dug in his pockets and pulled out his Red Good stylised stickers and gentle(ish) gave one to Duke and Cass before placing one on Tim's forehead.

Tim yet again narrowed his eyes and twisted his mouth in distaste at his other elder sibling removing the sticker from his forehead before he pouted at him.

"Really Jay!"

"Yup, I'm an arsehole, remember. Just a nicer one who gives out stickers than Goldie."

"Hey!! Wait!! That's cheating Little Wing! That's bribery. You can't win with stickers."

Tim nodded to Jason, Cass and Duke packing his presentation away. He had his team, even if they wanted him to nap. He ignored the squabbling of his eldest notional siblings and slipped away. His proposal was a success.

…………..

Red Robin had set up sensors and cameras around the area. Signal was in position on the next roof along, Black Bat a few blocks away and Red Hood was patrolling the area and speaking to his shadow contacts in case they knew anything to help them.

He was monitoring the situation when he heard Red Hood start swearing through the Comms.

"Arghfff! Holy Guns and Shits!! Hey Replacement, you were fucking right!! Definitely not crazy. Get to my location ASAP! I'm on the border of your mapped section. Tracking Mothman now!"

"Told you my proposal was serious!"

"Whatever little Red. Just get your ass here like 5 minutes ago."

Red Robin sighed exasperatedly before quickly tiding the equipment away and grabbing his camera. There was no way he was going to miss this. With a quick final check of the rooftop he shot out his grapple and headed in Red Hood direction.

Signal, Black Bat were with Red Hood by the time Red Robin arrived. They were all transfixed on the roof adjacent to them. Red Robin slowly and silently crept up to them, his camera in hand itching to take photos.

Across from them with bioluminescence spots and glowing red eyes was the original Mothman. It was hauntingly beautiful as the iridescent wings fluttered in the evening light. The creature seemed to be dancing across the roof in flowy steps and billowing wings. Giving into temptation, Red Robin snapped photos like he used when stalking his heros of the past. This really wasn't what he expected when he proposed going hunting for Mothman in Gotham.

"So, ummm, What's the next step in the plan now Red? We got photo proof that you ain't mad and Mothman is real?"

Red Robin blinked at Signal as yes, he knew that his evidence was real, it was just he hadn't planned the next steps properly. Normally with this sort of thing, something would be screwed up or a civilian would be in trouble so they'd just have to interact and boom! full evidence in a fight of some kind. Silently watching never really happened other than for recon.

"Ya do have plans right Replacement? B ain't gonna let Mothy stay ya realise."

Red Robin swallowed, using the time to process his racing thoughts. Signal and Hood were right that they'd hunted, too easily, Mothman, so what now...

"We catch it, take it back to the cave as proof then… release him?"

"Why's release it a question?"

"As B is likely to take over. It's not harming anyone. There's no reports of Mothman attacks, just sightings"

"Fuck it! Let's catch it, take it back to the cave. If B interferes we steal it and release it without him knowing. Basic ex-Robin protocol."

With a nod between the vigilantes they set to work. Black bat stealthy melding into the shadows tracking the creature in it's strange dance. Signal and Red Robin setting up nets and Red Hood with tranquilliser and a van he'd "acquired".

A quick scuffle later a sleeping Moth creature was being transported back to the cave.

…………..

Tim was preening as his disbelievers watched as those who'd trusted him helped unload the creature into a holding cell. He couldn't help the smug feeling that he'd yet again proved his evidence and theory (if a tad out there) were correct.

Watching Mothman through the perspect glass, Tim gained a slight unease. In the dark and distant the creature looked real, but under the dimmed lights of the cave, there was something off about the creature. Tim couldn't place what though.

His siblings gathered around as Tim nibbled his lip trying to work out what he was missing as the tranq wore off and a groaning noise was made by Mothman.

"[Owwww… my head!]"

"Di'ja know Mothy was French?"

"No???"

The siblings all exchange looks, this was not what they were expecting from a cryptic creature. Suddenly, the creatures started to move and… hands appeared out of the wings. With precision they darted about and it started to peel its body away. Like the reverse of a moth emerging from a cocoon, a pale skinned, dark haired person appears.

They slowly blinked bright blue eyes, taken in the situation.

"This is not the roof I was on… ummm… where am I?"

Tim could feel his siblings eyes bore into him and feel heat rising to his cheeks.

"Bady Bird, were you aware that you 'French' Mothman was a Mothwoman. And actually a meta who could peel off their skin?!'

Nightwing was looking panicked as well as frustrated.

"Tt, failure as normal."

"Well, at least Little Red was right. Not all the way, but still right."

"Not helping Little Wing!! We have a meta cryptic in the holding cells?!!!"

"Ummm, not a meta, or a cryptic… just a designer…"

Six pairs of eyes all turn to the 'creature'.

"What?"

"Err, I'm a designer. This is a costume I was testing out for a show. My hotel room isn't big enough to make sure the movements are right. I thought using the roofs would be quiet and give me space to see how it all moved for the dancing."

"Truth Little Brother."

Cass came up and rested her hands on Dick and Tim.

"She speaks truth. Not a meta."

With that reveal the tense atmosphere lightened.

"So, umm guys, we've just kidnapped a civilian designer off a roof and put them in a cell for no reason?"

Cass nodded at Duke.

"Tt, this is your fault Red Robin! Father will not be pleased."

With that Damian stalked off. Dick looked nervously between his two baby siblings before bounding off after the youngest, in hopes of doing some sort of damage control.

"Whelp! I'm out of here Red. Nice knowing you and all, but I'm not staying to watch the fireworks with B. He'll make it my fault somehow."

"Hood!!!!"

Tim turned to see Jason saunter off to his bike and zoom off out of the cave. He turns around hoping to see Cass and Duke but in his distraction they'd slunk off.

Sighing running a hand down his face, Tim looks at the woman before him. She now had taken off a lot of the additional layers and was now clearly wearing a black full body leotard with black ballet shoes. Her lithe body fully on show.

"Would it be possible sir, if you could umm... maybe err... let me go? I'm not planning to cause issues. I just wanted to finish the design before the tour show starts next week. It was my last costume set for the backing dancers."

Tim could feel his blush growing as he took this all in. His embarrassment at the whole situation as well as knowing his siblings would tease him mercilessly later.

"I… errr … I'm sorry for the unintentional kidnap. I thought you were Mothman."

At that the designer's eyes seem to shimmer.

"Really?!"

Slightly confused Tim nods while willing his blush to fade.

"[Excellent! Fantastic!!] That's amazing news. It's what I was after. That you thought it was believable is amazing!!! Uncle J is going to be thrilled."

"Uncle J?"

"Jagged. Uncle Jagged. His whole performance and tour is about Cryptid Hunting, like his album."

"Jagged as in Jagged Stone!!??!!"

"Oh shoot!! Umm, yes, no, ignore that [Sugar! Baguettes!!!] Please ignore that. If you do that, I'll ignore that I was kidnapped by a hero!"

Relief fills Tim as Uncle J was not the Joker and the context made sense that Gotham was his starting place for his tour with the vigilantes being Cryptids themselves. Disturbing the quiet that had settled between Tim and the Designer was loud noises of his siblings arguing with B. He quickly instructed the designer to pick up her costume as he set about releasing her from the cell.

Grabbing her hand, Tim led her to his bike and handed her his spare helmet to put on

"We need to go quickly before the others are back as you *WILL* be interrogated otherwise. Sorry for mucking up your plans."

She turned and stood on tiptoes and placed a soft kiss upon his cheek sending yet another blush to grow.

"No, no, I should have thought more about it being Gotham. But your feedback that it looks real was perfect. Thank you!! Can we go back to where you picked me up. I will hopefully be able to make it back to my hotel room from there."

"Which hotel and I'll just drop you off there, Miss?"

"Marinette, Hotel Gotham please Sir."

"Red Robin."

Marinette sent him a dazzling smile as she slipped her helmet over her head as he placed the costume remains into the bike's travel compartment.

Tim turned his bike on just as Robin, Nightwing and Batman made it down the stairs.

"Hold on tight!" Tim said through the helmet's Comms as he sped away, leaving the drama he will have to eventually deal with behind.

His focus currently was more on the warm lithe muscles of his kidnapped designer as he rushed back towards Gotham, and the internal plans to meet her again.

See @boldlyanxious slight kiss 😜😘❤️

What Marinette looks like.

Concept came from this.

#maribat #dc x mlb #maribat au #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x ml #tim x marinette #timinette #marinette x tim #timari #timari january #meet cute monday #meet cute

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