#urgh he’d be such a good sub i swear
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kinks i think skz would have (part 3)
SKZXFEM READER
cw: smut obviously (MINORS DNI) the tw’s are kinda obvious with the sub header but read at your own discretion babies 🤍
a/n: not proofread sorry for any mistakes. also i’m so happy to be writing again! lets be delulu together xox
part 1, part 2
bangchan; hair pulling
oh my lord this man is relentless,
he’d be grabbing fistfuls of your hair and yanking your head up to look at him when you’re on your knees underneath him
“you look so pretty on your knees for me doll”
will literally snatch your hair as he’s fucking you in missionary and growl like an ANIMAL down your ear as he’s so deep in your pussy
“f- fuck baby, ah- feel so good around my cock”
the way your mouth drops open at the sting on your scalp as you stare up at him with mascara down your face from him deep-throating you omg you look devine babygirl!
“don’t cry angel you’re doing such a good job for me” *continues to FACE FUCK you*
lee know; edging/ overstim
we all knew this one was coming
you best believe lee know would make you BEG for him to let you come every. single. time. without fail. you would be a whimpering, sobbing mess
“if you want to cum, what do you say baby? … hmm i don’t think think you want it that much” GOD
he would be holding the vibrator to your clit for ages! smirking at your face contorting as the pleasure just builds and builds in your pussy.
“such a good girl for daddy hmm?” HELP (i am simply a dog)
“that’s it, keep begging sweetheart” AHH
and when he does let you come oh. god. he would make you orgasm over and over again until you’re crying! your pussy would be so red and swollen afterwards and he lovessss to see it
“no no doll, you begged me to come so take it like a good girl”
changbin; pussy slapping
hear me out-
so, changbin would be on top of you fully clothed whilst you’re bare naked underneath him and even the sight of you alone is enough to have his cock digging into you from his pants
he’s the type to play with your clit until you’re mewling but would SLAPPP your pussy once he hears you beg to go faster
“you don’t tell me when to do with your pussy darling”
the way he would smirk slyly as your body jolts up and your legs shake in surprise at the sudden impact o.m.g!
each slap would have you groaning from your whole chest as he continues slapping your sensitive clit again and again and he would even have the AUDACITY to chuckle down your ear at your reactions
“you’ll get my cock soon enough baby, don’t worry”
hyunjin; praise kink
i feel like this one being on the list was inevitable. hyunjin and praise kink just go hand in hand
the way he would trace your entire body with his hands leaving kisses on your exposed skin with his eyes full of adoration i’m CRYING
“you’re actually ethereal y/n..”
each time he would kiss the inside of your thighs, he would look up at you with your head thrown back in bliss and smile lovingly at the sight of you enjoying yourself. (all he cares about is your pleasure i SWEAR)
“that feel nice baby?” um YES
none. stop. compliments of how beautiful your body is and how he’s the luckiest man in the world
lots of make out sessions because trust me, this man is drunk on you!
“so fucking beautiful”
han jisung; marking
because han AINT SHARING
the thought of anyone else looking at you has han feeling the need to mark you as his own. you’re his and he’s yours. done!
seriously bestie, the amount of hickeys he gives you is crazyyyy! but would absolutely kiss each one after making them
“my gorgeous girl, aren’t you? only mine” the POSSESSIVENESS i love urgh
the way he would have you moaning underneath him as he sucks on your neck again and again and the way you would sound so sexy he would be lowkey going feral for you.
“fuck baby, i love you so much”
felix; pain play
because, in my opinion, felix can’t contain his dom side around you…
as in he would be shoving his fingers down your throat whilst pinching and twisting your nipples just to hear your choked moans whilst you writhe under him
and the way he would chuckle smugly af at the state he would put you in every time. (his deep laugh has me on the floor)
“is it hurting baby? aww… good”
SLAPPING. EVERYWHERE.
the lasting bruises of his hands all over your thighs and ass for dayssss
the way he would nip his teeth against your clit just to see you jump and buck up into his face when you feel a sharp sting onfbsjsn
*deep voice* “good girl” — AHHHH i’m sat!!
seungmin; objectification & humiliation
this one is my personal fave… stay with me !!…
i know for sure that seungmin is a super soft lover but you can’t tell me this man doesn’t respectfully disrespect you to the point of orgasm !
the way he would tease your clit forever just to look into your desperate af eyes and laugh at you for being “such a needy fucking puppy yeah?” and the way he would call you a whore and slap you in the face afterwards IM WET
“can’t speak now pup? aww are you so dumb on my cock that you’ve turned into nothing but a doll for me to fuck? yeahhh…”
and the way he would choke you until your eyes roll back in bliss just to laugh at how pliant you are O.M.G
the aftercare though! he would give you so so many face kisses and cuddle you so tightly only to do the exact same thing the night after
jeongin; Msub
look, i’m constantly torn between wanting innie to rail me and wanting to corrupt him but this oneeee…
WHINEY JEONGIN.
when i tell you the whimpers this man lets out whilst you tease the top of his cock is heavenly, i mean dangerously
“y/n- mistress! please!” oh my
his eyes would be focused on YOU, never taking his eyes off his beautiful girl
so much begging and pleading and the way he would moan even louder in desperation when you smirk at him because he knows it gonna be a long night
“i’ll be good! i’ll be so good for you! please y/n!”
the way he would grab your face once he comes down from his high and just kisses you for so long with SO much passion. i will cry
#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x y/n#bang chan smut#leeknow smut#changbin smut#hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#lee felix smut#felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#stray kids x you#stray kids oneshot#stray kids imagines#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours
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Did someone say hardcanon? Honey boy probably loves when his partner takes control. I'm gonna leave it at that 😈 and yes I read the tags which is why I sent this huehuehue
Maybe I wrote that to summon you because you kinda made me watch that ATEEZ Mama performance and my mind went into hard stan mode for a sec... uwu boys should not unbutton their coats like that!
~~*~~
He’d be so pretty laid out beneath you, a deep blush spreading from his face down to his chest, hands held above his head because he’s going to be a good boy for you, just how he always is.
A strangled moan escaped his lips when you sucked yet another pretty mark onto his pale skin, just below where a shirt would cover it, your fingers teasing his rosy nipples.
“Baby please,” he would beg when you left kisses and lovebites all the way down his torso, covering every piece of skin except where he needed you most.
“Please what, baby boy?” You would ask him, a teasing smile on your face as you ground your clothed core against his thick thigh, a whimper escaping your lips when he flexed the hard muscle beneath you just how you liked it.
“Please touch me,” Jooheon asked breathlessly, the muscles in his strong arms twitching with effort to stay where you had placed them.
“But I am touching you, baby,” you continued teasing him, gently rocking your hips on his thigh.
“But not where I need you to,” he pouted, trying to make you give into his begging by giving you his best puppy eyes.
Giving the inside of his thigh a smack, you whispered right into his ear: “I decide where you need to be touched and good boys take what I give them, understood?”
#okay maybe i snapped a little#urgh he’d be such a good sub i swear#def sol#you are making me have dirty thoughts!!#monsta x#jooheon#lee jooheon#joohoney#does anyone actually use his new stage name to tag things??#monsta x smut#jooheon smut#monsta x headcanons#jooheon scenarios#monsta x drabble#jooheon imagine#dom!reader#sub!jooheon#headcanons#hardcanon
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Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Additional Tags: Resurrected Jason Is Found By Poison Ivy AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Vines, Bondage, Breathplay, Basically what it’s like falling in love after you’d already fallen into love, feat. soft JayBru
There’s something to be said about punching your way out of your own coffin, scared out of your mind and not remembering a single damn thing. It's a living hell in every sense of the word, and all in all having Poison Ivy knock him out after she found him wandering around was probably as good an outcome he could have hoped for.
Or, what happens when Jason's return is less a traumatic ordeal in the Pit and more a gentle blossoming under Pamela's careful care, and he finds himself looking at Bruce and thinking, yes.
Take care of yourselves, and please hang in there as best you can.
Fic on tumblr under the cut.
There’s something to be said about punching your way out of your own coffin, scared out of your mind and not remembering a single damn thing aside from a vague sense of there being a place you needed to return to. It’s hell on your hands, for one; he kept finding splinters in his palms for days afterwards. It’s hell on the head, what with the pounding, the complete lack of any memories, the then-dead-now-alive situation, and all in all having Poison Ivy knock him out with some sleeping pollen after she found him rampaging through the botanical gardens in the dead of night was probably as good an end to the day as he could have hoped for.
Pamela’s a lot of frightening, fantastic things. One of those things is that she has a tendency to be unflinchingly kind to scrappy little weedy things trying desperately to survive, and he certainly was a weedy thing that night, freshly pushed out through the earth. He doesn’t remember much from the first 48 hours; just remembers fear and terror and rage, a burst of something sweet-smelling spreading across his face, and then being cared for by careful steady hands that kept him cool and watered and fed.
He recovers in body but not in memory, and decides to just keep helping Pam out, fuzzy on everything except that Gotham is where he needs to be. He doesn’t have any powers aside from being pretty strong and athletic, and while he’d like to think he’s a damn good kisser he can’t literally brainwash people with his skills; trying to keep up with a bit of a mystical botanist almost-villain is really hard when their skill levels are so mismatched.
Pam never seems to mind though, just laughs his concerns off and tells him some vague bullshit about how plants don’t need to do anything more than just be to be good and important and necessary, and that’s all he needs to worry about.
Life at the overridden jungle-esque townhouse that is Casa Isley is pretty simple and extremely pleasant, even in the early days when he was mostly mute and spent most of his time sitting by the window in the living room, face to the sun, eyes closed. She leaves him to recuperate and find his centre and find the sun in the daytime, and at night they bomb massive multinational corporations that profit from the destruction of the rainforests, and it’s a good hearty living. Something doesn’t feel entirely right about a purely vegetarian diet, but the things Pam can do with lentils and roasted squash, Jesus. On the work front, she calls him ‘Sting’ when they’re out, even though he has issues with sharing a name with an elderly pop star, but it’s better than getting called ‘Netty’ instead of nettles, so he goes along with it.
Almost a year in and he thinks he’s gotten the hang of the concept of just being, that he’s found where he can live and grow, that it’s fine that in an absence of a name they both seem to have settled on “Dan” because it’s short for ‘dandelion’, before the Mrs. shows up all of a sudden in a flurry of colour and chaos, takes one look at him, and starts screaming “Robin!!!”
-
It comes down to this;
“You know I don’t like to look at men’s faces,” Pam tells Harley with mild irritation, even as flowers keep popping up all throughout the house at the absolute pleasure the doctor is feeling at having her wife home for the first time in most of a year.
If they FaceTime each other, he’s never gotten to see it, and if they don’t, he has no idea how they survive that sharp bite of absence. It rings awful loud in his stupid head, and he doesn’t even know what it is he’s missing.
“I know, pumpkin, it’s one of your defining features.” Harley hasn’t stopped laughing once in the past hour, through the fracas of him reacting badly to being screeched at and Pam getting everyone wrapped up neatly in vines while she went to put the kettle on. Harley’s still got vines running all over her, and the whole mass of them seem delighted. “Been wonderin’ who they were talkin’ ‘bout, when they said you picked up a new sidekick who’s some guy that prob’ly wouldn’t know his poppies from his pansies, and now I see you got yourself a zombie baby bird!”
He tries not to snap the handle of the dainty teacup he’s holding. 'Robin' feels closer, closer than ‘Sting’ and ‘Dan’, but still not quite right. “Do you know if I got a family waiting for me somewhere?”
Harley grins. “A whole freakin’ flock of ‘em, buddy. Any terror of the night you see out here in Gotham, they’re gonna take one good look at you and they’re gonna know! Look for a strong jawline or crazy good hair, it’s a giveaway for all of yous. Seriously, Pammy, I can’t believe your little sidekick and you haven’t run into B yet.”
“He’s still new, I wasn’t going to take him out on anything high-level, Harley,” Pamela tells her archly. “But Dandy, it’s up to you. What do you say we hit up a bank or a dozen and see if anybody who swings by recognises you?”
It's not hard to say yes to potentially unraveling his past.
That night they go out in threes, Harley and Poison Ivy looking dashing as all hell while he skulks in the background, trying to stay clear of all the shameless makeouts. He feels deeply uncool in his sweats and his safety goggles with leaves stuck on, but he couldn't really knock up anything that looks half as good as their costumes, so it is what it is, urgh. The plan is easy enough; target the City Bank and just hang around until a Bat or a Bird swings by, and ask if they know who he is. At Harley’s insistence, he’s left the bandanna he usually wears to cover his face at home, because she swears that they’re going to need a peep at his jawline, like a chin’s just as good as a fingerprint.
He doesn’t actually think it’s going to work, as he jumps from giant plant to giant plant to stick some explosives to the vault doors. He’s probably just some man who died in some excruciatingly normal way, and the strangest thing about him is just that he came back, somehow.
He’s probably nobody special.
So it comes as a bit of a surprise when they’re met by an entire battalion of masked vigilantes, held off by Ivy and every inch of chlorophyll in a mile-wide radius, but the fighting is interrupted by Harley whistling to catch everybody’s attention, and then very loudly going “Ta-dah!!” as she presents him, like he’s something grand and important.
He feels extremely put on the spot. He feels like an unasked-for baby picture flashed to acquaintances; inexplicably precious to Harley and astonishingly anti-climactic for literally everyone else. “No one’s gonna know who I am,” he hissed at her, frustration bleeding into his voice.
Of course, everybody does.
-
The custody battle between Batman and his many, many associates versus Poison Ivy and her wife was vicious and surprisingly bloodless. He can’t remember the number of times he gets abducted and re-abducted. In the course of two months he: gets taken out to an all-night cafe by a man in black-and-blue who seems anxious and keen to pretend he isn’t; has a costumed girl with wild blonde hair ask if he might consider giving her driving lessons, because B is shit; gets accosted by a boy with floppy hair who got real annoyed that Jason’s phone is an ancient thing with a keypad and everything, unhackable in every sense of the word.
In his defense, when Pam can send him a shopping list via leaves and he just needs to shout at the closest potted plant to remind her she’s supposed to get take-out on the way home tonight, a phone’s not really super necessary.
Pam and Harley become increasingly retaliatory after all the kidnapping attempts; he’s been followed by oak trees dragging themselves along the pavement like underpaid Ents, and Harley’s singular ability to show up when everybody least expects her means many a (family?) reunion gets broken up by a glitter bomb and Harley dragging him back, “‘cos Pammy’s gonna be real mad if I lost you. You accidentally buy real bacon instead a’ imitation one time, and your wife gets to hold that over you for f’ever, and you gotta take it kid, just ‘cos you love her, god.”
It’s a hectic couple of months.
He knows the Bat and Bird people know who he is, and that they worry about telling him the truth while he’s still living with Pam, who’s a designated villain, but right now it’s a lot easier to pick the side of the woman who found him when he was at his worst and helped him find his feet and screw his head back on straight than it is to believe a pack of vigilantes who stalk him and refuse to tell him his name.
Batman’s the worst of the lot; massive and hulking and lineless when he wants to intimidate a deeply-unmoved Poison Ivy in a fight, but furtive and silent and impossible to see when he’s on the fire escape right outside his room.
At first, he’d thought that the Batman was just straight-up creeping on him in his sleep, and he’d started cultivating a window box of cacti that he was slowly coaching into listening to him and taking instructions. Prolonged contact with Ivy and all the pheromones and secret magic that seeps out of her gives everyone in her vicinity a bit of plant magic, and where Pam’s mailman has gone from killing three succulents within the space of a week many years ago to becoming an award-winning pumpkin cultivator this last fall, Jason’s begun to be able to nudge and ask plants for help.
The cacti let him know that if Batman’s stalking him, it’s really fucking weird stalking. The Bat doesn’t peer through the window, never tries to climb in and get into close contact, makes no move to survey the lay of the land and liberate him. It’s really fucking weird, the cacti say. On random nights, at least twice a week, the Bat climbs up the creaky, ancient wrought-iron ladder in complete silence, and apparently he just sits there, back to the room, face to the world.
Some nights where everything feels a little off, Jason just lies in bed and stares at the black mass and wonders what he’s done to make him so important to Batman, and if the feeling’s returned.
He figures out somewhere along the way that the Bat’s standing guard over him. He figures it out because Pam tells him, with an exasperated tone of voice that informs him that this is why she finds men so damn intolerable. “He’s worried about you, and he hasn’t tried to do anything more than just creep around, so I thought I’d leave him to you.”
That’s where it (re)starts.
A week after that little conversation with Pam, he swaps out half the cacti for clumps of herbs in the window box instead. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t need to ward against the Bat anymore, and there’s something really freakin’ nice about his room smelling like rosemary when Gotham’s hit with her usual summer heatwave, dramatically transforming from a grubby city into a grubbier swamp. A week after that he starts leaving out lemonade for the man, because Pamela did a damn fine job instilling within him the urge to make sure to regularly water those things that need regular watering. A week after that, he starts unilaterally talking about what it’s like to be an apprentice horticulturalist climbing the corporate ladder, and how his trainer is extremely impressed with how even their most dire cases return to life under his green thumbs. There’s a course on technical botanical watercolours coming up, for staff only, and he’s fucking hyped. The Bat responds in quiet hums and grunts, and even the occasional word, but Jason and his plants collectively agree that the man is listening, intently even.
A week after that, Batman tells him that he’s Jason Todd, the name clicks like a neck breaking, and he’s on the ground screaming-screaming-screaming as everything comes pouring back, soothed and tinted green by Poison Ivy’s fundamentally restorative magic hanging heavy in the air.
When he comes to, Harley’s trying to knock Bruce’s stupid head off with her ridiculous mallet, and Jason sees at least 4 Venus flytraps manifesting, big enough to eat any man as Pamela checks his pulse. Bruce is dodging and ducking and weaving, but he doesn’t raise a hand to fight back. He just keeps staring and staring and staring at Jason, and that’s the culmination of the world’s most chaotic resurrection arc.
There’s a second round of flying batarangs and pollen bombs when Jason’s brought up to speed on the status of things (i.e. the Joker and his damn fucking state of being alive) and he tells his family (both sets of them) that he’s going to keep on being an apprentice horticulturalist and an apprentice Sting(ing Nettle), with Bruce accusing Poison Ivy of brainwashing him and Pam scoffing and telling Bruce that Jason doesn’t even like women, which, come on, why’s a man gotta get outed like this?
He loves everyone involved in this whole screaming mess, but for people who don’t actually have a claim to any part of him, it is wild how entitled both Batman and Poison Ivy feel to him. That’s the thing with growth, right? You might need to give a sapling a lot of support to help it get its bearings, but when it’s off, it’s off.
Jason’s grown up enough to know who he is and where he stands, and it might have taken well over a year post-resurrection to get to this point, but he’s tall and strong enough to stand up and get the sun himself, thanks.
This is how the custody battle ends;
Jason tells both Pam and Bruce that neither of them are actually his parents, and moves out to a shitty little flat close to Crime Alley. His house is chock-a-block full of plants; there’s always cereal in the cupboards for when Dick or Harley visit; the window is left unadorned for quick access by night-time crimefighters; he upgrades to a legitimate smartphone and joins several iterations of family group chats; and
he’s careful to pick a flat that has a fire escape right outside his bedroom. It’s a weird thing to have as ‘required’ when apartment-hunting, but the thought of Bruce trying to be a barrier between Jason and this whole awful world where he couldn’t before makes him feel some sort of way, and some sort of way is enough of a motivation. Bruce reminds him of himself fresh out of the ground; struggling to find his footing but trying desperately to carry on nonetheless. An extra 75 bucks a month is worth setting up space with plenty of sun for that, surely.
He puts a pitcher of lemonade instead of a bird feeder out a couple of months after moving in, when he’s nice and settled. When he pokes his head out and finds an empty jug the next morning, his aloe plant checks in with him to make sure that he’s cool with having a black wraith standing guard outside in the night.
Jason is.
A week after that he starts chatting at Bruce while he folds 2 weeks’ worth of laundry, and a week after that he starts joining Bruce on the fire escape.
Sometimes they don’t talk much at all because contact is what they actually, desperately need, and that’s the start of a different sort of resurrection.
-
The thing is, Bruce probably thinks he’s being super sneaky and discreet, but he really, really isn’t. Even if Jason didn’t have every plant in the tri-state area snitching on Bruce to him, it’s pretty clear that ‘Sting’s’ outfit has been getting upgraded. The goggles with the leaves haphazardly glued onto them suddenly have night-vision, and don’t even crack when Jason gets slammed into the side of a building face-first one night. His sweats look exactly the same, except they’re now three pounds heavier and are shockingly bulletproof. He even finds a long-sleeved shirt with a stylised ‘S’ shaped like a thorn in a gorgeous hunter green, and it makes him laugh like a complete idiot to imagine Bruce at the Manor, Windows Paint open as he brainstorms a new not-flying-vertebrate-related symbol.
He’s happier to wear a ratty shirt and a leather jacket out for nightwork, though. Jason’s working with Ivy, but that’s mostly because he just likes Pam; for every dirty corporate pig they almost kill, they spend as much time squatting in the woods somewhere eating vege tacos. He’s not anxious to become a new vigilante, especially not one under somebody else’s purview. Call him a coward, but as far as dead-end careers go, being Robin was, uh. Rough.
So he dresses in athleisure-meets-leather and mostly wears his special Sting shirt when the weather’s awful and Bruce still refuses to come inside for some reheated pizza. The shirt’s a little oversized, the lining is obscenely soft and warm, and it’s also waterproof, so in many ways it’s exactly perfect.
It’s on a shitty Gotham fall day, where it’s gone dark way too early and the rain comes down hard and somehow colder than fucking snow, when the milkweeds that Mrs. Faure three floors down grows in her window box yell up to say the Bat’s coming but he doesn’t seem well.
Delicacy and nuance are difficult things to pass along in the language of flowers, and ‘unwell’ could mean anything from a bit of a cough to literally on the verge of death, so Jason prepares accordingly. He shrugs into his armoured shirt and sweats, gets the gun out (because no matter what Pam says, it’s mighty helpful for a fledgling plant sorcerer to have something as fast as a speeding bullet, thanks) and finds his fully-stocked medkit. By the time Bruce is pounding on his window, Jason’s ready to handle everything up to and including a raging elephant.
Instead, it’s just Bruce with a massive gash in his side, mania in his eyes. Bruce looks Jason up and down and up and down, like he can’t quite believe his eyes, and struggles through the windowsill, almost crushing Jason’s carefully-cultivated wildgrass windowbox. “Jason,” he shouts, which is a clearer sign than anything else that he’s out of it, clearer even than a hole where the rest of an abdomen should be. “Jason, are you okay?” He lands on the floor, slips in a pile of dirty clothes and his own blood, and keeps struggling to head towards Jason.
Jason’s stunned one second, and shoving wads of gauze into the gaping wound the next. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” he says for lack of brainpower to think of anything better, communing with All Plants Ever and being informed by a god (or possibly Pam) that cacti have blood-clotting properties. Powers heightened in an emergency, his succulents step up to the plate and grow to enormous proportions, allowing Jason to rip off a stem, crush it to mush, and plug Bruce up. “What the hell happened?”
Bruce doesn’t seem to hear him, more concerned with checking Jason over, trying to take his pulse through the gauntlets. Whatever he sees seems to be enough for him, and he abruptly staggers back, back towards the window. “You’re alive, you’re fine, it’s fine,” Bruce says to himself like he’s trying to believe it, as he tries to take his leave.
That’s not going to happen, of course. An obliging spider plant hanging by the window grows big enough to wrap its leaves around Bruce and draw him to a standstill, and Jason’s already hauling Bruce to the bed. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, B? You’re lying the hell down while I call Alfred. Jesus, you’re a mess.”
“The wound is minor, I can lose another 15% of my blood volume without affecting my performance,” says the man currently outfoxed by some grass. “I just needed to make sure you were unharmed. There’s a fight I need to get back to.”
“Yeah, ‘course there is,” said Jason, completely unmoved. The cactus pulp seems to be doing its job, and the blood’s gone spectacularly gross and clumpy, but if that’s a Killer Croc bite infection’s going to be a bigger bitch than blood volume loss. He fires off a text to Alfred, then pauses. “Hang on, who’re you fighting, and where? Where’s your backup, anyways?”
Bruce is now sat on Jason’s bed, looking longingly at the fire escape. “It’s some sort of coordinated effort to set the city on fire.” He pauses, because they’re both looking out the window at the heavy rain and thinking, really? “We’re keeping on top of it, but that’s not going to last if I don’t stop Killer Croc and the Penguin from ganging up.”
“Uh huh, cool. Where were they, again?”
“Flooding out the hospital on 8th and Faber. Jason, I have to go -”
“Nope,” Jason tells him flatly, having sent a message along to Pam for a favour (at 8th and Faber). “You’re gonna wait till Alfie comes by to pick you up, and then I’m gonna go out and help mop up the mess.” He grabs the closest clean-looking shirt, and flicks a carbon fiber ear. “Open, I need to clean up your face and check for a concussion. What’re you doing here anyways?”
Bruce unlocks the cowl and pushes it off, and he looks about as rundown as usual, which is good. Jason wets his shirt with the plant spritzer that’s eternally on his bedside table, and rubs the dirt and debris off of Bruce’s face as he waits for a response that’s slow in coming.
“Penguin said that the Joker was rampaging across Crime Alley. It was just a distraction, but it worked,” Bruce says, sounding a little offended. “I was already heading this way by the time Dick radioed to say he’s got Joker contained with help from the Titans. I just. Wanted to check in with you.”
“Christ,” Jason swears, feeling that standard mix of irritation and mind-boggling fondness flood his brain in response to Bruce's blunt Bruce-ness. “You’re such an idiot. I shouldn’t be your first priority, B!”
Bruce just stares at him, shockingly calm for a man missing a lot of blood and bone. “Then what number priority are you supposed to be, Jay?”
There’s not much Jason can reply to that. For all the existential angst and the occasional roar of rage he feels towards Bruce, if he heard that something had gone terribly wrong with Bruce, anything short of god-level power would struggle to keep him away.
Sometimes when he thinks back to his resurrection, he wonders if he’d woken up in part because there’s an internal mechanism that kept worrying at him after his death, going What the fuck’s going to happen to the big guy with you gone, fuck, get up, get up, get UP!
Aw, hell. Pam was kind of a dick but also absolutely right when she said he’s got no interest in women, and to be fair his interest in men is pretty extremely limited too.
Bruce seems to take his silence as permission to go off and do something dumbfuck again, staggering up and surging towards the window, and in a moment of reactionary panic Jason grabs him by the cowl, tugs him back, and kisses him.
(“10 out of 10 times you’ll get your man,” Poison Ivy had told him as she rubbed at her lips with a wet wipe, CEO to an oil fracking company in a dead faint at her feet. “I can’t tell you how to know when your pheromones are strong enough for it to work work, but you’ll know when the time comes. Just keep disinfectant handy, because I have never met a man whose mouth was not a cesspit. No offense.”
Some offense taken, thanks, because he knows she’s kissed Batman before, and only a deeply ungenerous soul would describe the feeling of Bruce falling under your thrall as a ‘cesspit’.)
Bruce passes out in under 2 seconds flat, fall cushioned by a monstera coming in clutch. Jason looks down at him, thinks about what it means that the man with the most indomitable will in the whole stupid fucking world got taken out by a poison kiss, and screams “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” until Alfred breaks in with a gun in each hand, asking if Masters Jason and Bruce are quite all right.
-
Jason is an absolute mess when he goes for Ladies’ Night with Pam and Harley, as repayment for services rendered on that shitty, bloody night a couple of weeks ago now. Pam picks a beer garden because this late in the year it’s cold enough that they have the outdoors to themselves, and none of them really feel give a shit in the weather (Jason's got The Shirt on, after all).
First round of apple ciders and a giant bowl of piping hot cheesy nachos delivered, Harley tucks in with her customary gusto in the face of hot snack foods, while Pam just stares at Jason like she knows something.
Of course she does, Jason thinks bitterly. Pam’s a Higher Power, and he’d be damn surprised if his houseplants haven’t already ratted him out to her. “What?” he snarls, trying to fend off an uncomfortable conversation by being a bit of a dick.
It doesn’t work; if anything both women just look more amused. “What’s eatin’ you, Jay?” Harley says around a mouthful of nachos. “You and Pammy are makin’ eyes and not lettin’ me join in, which, by the way, dick move. Just spit it out already.”
Pam’s barely holding in her laughter at this point. “She’s right, Jason. Just lay it on us.”
Oh, lord, Dr. Pamela Isley really just did wink at him, oh my god.
“It wasn’t anything, okay! It was just a knock-out kiss, you kiss like a hundred people a month, it doesn’t mean anything.” He can control the blush, just barely, but that’s thanks to Bruce’s training, and thinking about training Bruce is Extremely Counterproductive, fuck.
Harley’s just openly applauding at this point, clearly deeply entertained. “Awwww, you laid a wet one on Big B, huh? Can’t blame you, jeezus, the thighs on that man.” She sighs, eyes going distant. “Plus! He was plenty nice to me after the break with Mr. J, and he sent us some real sweet weddin’ gifts, didn’t he, Pammy?”
Pam nods, still radiating amusement. “A waffle iron and sandwich press for Harley, and several endangered species of begonias that haven’t been successfully propagated in captivity for me. The man has beautiful penmanship.”
He does, Jason almost says, which really clearly highlights just how damn moony he is at this point in time. “We’re not… like that. He wouldn’t want that with me, okay, so can we just drop it?” He miserably drains his mug of cider, and wishes it was something with a lot more kick instead.
They kind of fall into a maudlin little lull, before Harley breaks the pause. “Hang on, hang on. Why wouldn’t he want you, kid, you’re plenty good-lookin’. Did you even try to seduce the guy? Get him some top-notch chocolates and roses for valentine? If Pam could stick her neck out and one-hit K.O. Mr. J to win me over, how’re you just sittin’ there all sad-like and giving up before you even made one grand gesture?”
Times like these Jason is sharply reminded that while Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy are usually rated Quirky Second-Class Villains by virtue of misogyny, they’ve both haunted and infected and protected Gotham for years and years and years, have PhDs, are weirdly unflappable and immoveable, and are in a loving, committed relationship. Times like these they catch him coming and going.
He knows that him being under Bruce’s care before he died makes for an awkward power dynamic that’s likely to stick in Bruce’s craw, even if it doesn’t really affect Jason’s intentions towards the man. He knows that it might break their slowly recovering relationship, might drive Bruce away, might shove a wedge in between him and the Bat family.
He knows all this, but fair play to Harley, he doesn’t know that Bruce is definitely, definitely going to shoot him down. He also doesn’t know what would happen if he sincerely makes an effort to make clear that he wants to be the steadying hand at Bruce’s back, the cacti pulp healing a festering wound, the window he clambers through when he’s in a blind panic.
“Ah, fuck,” he sighs, reaching over to steal Harley’s full glass, taking a deep swig of the sweet, fizzy cider. “I really fuckin’ hate it when you’re the one talking the most sense, Harl. If and when he breaks my heart, you two are responsible for wining and dining me for the rest of my depressing, shitty life, okay?”
“I’ll drink to that!” Harley toasts him, grabbing Pam’s glass to clink against Jason’s. “Go for it, kid. If anyone’s gonna make love grow in the barren ass desert of Big B’s moody edgy heart, it’s gonna be Pam or a Pam-adjacent. Grab that man by the balls, zombie bird!”
The rest of the night is filled by increasingly drunken plans to woo a man who can’t be wooed, and the brainstorming felt like it was going well to a bunch of tipsy dumbasses. How it ends, is that Jason wakes up the next morning in a hedge, head pounding and pocket filled with 5 napkins covered in incomprehensible scribbles and 3 separate iterations of a hairy cock-and-balls in lipstick.
Pretty tame, for Ladies' Night.
-
Life continues as normal after that. He gets needled by Pam and Harley for dragging his feet, but every time he opens his mouth to say something he imagines losing quiet time on his balcony with B, spiked lemonade resting between them. The kiss doesn’t get brought up, but there’s an almost literal itch on his lips whenever Jason looks at Bruce and the desire to take him and keep him rises up to his throat, and that’s just life now, apparently.
It’s a holding pattern that breaks unexpectedly one day, over the phone. Bruce almost never calls him, but they’ve taken to getting takeout whenever there’s enough of a lull in the night patrol to warrant a meal break for Batman, and sometimes there’s a call to check in on the general consensus re: Greek or Turkish food for supper.
His phone rings when he’s almost out of his flat, and Jason swears. He somehow hadn’t thought about Bruce tonight, not when Bruce hadn’t been around for the last anniversary. He answers, and tries not to sound like anything unusual is going on. “Hey, B, what’s up?”
“Jason. I am parked in front of that Chinese takeout by the greengrocer’s that sells lemongrass by the pound. Do you want the same dumplings you got last time?”
Be still my stupid fucking heart, it’s deeply uncool to mildly lose your mind when the man you’re deeply into remembers your takeaway order. “Sounds great, B, but listen. I have some stuff going on tonight, so I won’t be around to meet you. Sorry.”
Jason hopes and hopes and hopes that Bruce will just leave it, just take it as it is, but-
“There’s no significant criminal activity tonight, and none of Harley or Ivy’s usual targets are in the city. What’s going on?”
“Just a meetup with the two of ‘em, no big deal, B, nothing to worry about, it’s nothing,” Jason says, desperately trying to be cool.
Of course, it makes it worse.
“Jason, if you are in an emergency situation and a hostile is in the same room with you, say ‘I might go for the soup dumplings tonight’. I’m on my way.”
It’s rapidly spinning out of control, and Jason figures that if the gun’s about to go off he might as well pull the trigger. “You can’t, B, because I’m going out with Pam to get black-out drunk tonight ‘cos it’s the anniversary of me coming out of the ground, and if Ivy’s not near me I keep thinking I’m gonna get buried again. Do you understand why I have to cancel dinner now?”
He sounds harsh, he knows he sounds harsh, but something about the anniversary throws him back 6 feet underground, and Pam’s the only one who makes him feel safe when he’s got soil on the mind.
Bruce takes an eternity to respond to that, and when he does it’s just a quiet, helpless “Jaybird,” and Jason’s trying not to burst into tears right now, aaaah.
“It’s not the same as it was before. I’m not the same as I was before, B, and this is one of those things. You wanna hear another buck-wild thing, something new post-death and equally horrifying?” He hears his mouth, but doesn’t remember authorising any of these words.
“You can tell me anything, Jason. You can ask me for anything,” Bruce promises him, voice heavy and serious and trembling 'round the edges, clearly not reading the damned room.
Ah, he can’t stop the slightly hysterical laughter as he forces himself up and out of the flat, keen to get to Pam’s place before it’s fully dark. “The brand new thing, B, is that I’m pretty sure dying and coming back to life and living on my own kinda made me fall in love with you, and I kissed you and I liked it, and I just really, really want you to feel it back.” He sighs, and blinks his eyes dry. “But that’s a me problem, okay, and I’ve got a handle on it. I just….” Just want you to want me back, he doesn’t say, because it’s not ‘foist your problems onto Bruce who is quite often less equipped to handle problems than anyone gives him credit for’ day, contrary to how Gotham lives her fucking life. “I just need to cancel dinner,” he says instead, tired and dull.
“Jason,” he hears Bruce’s shock clear in his voice, and he just can’t take it. “Jason, I-”
He hangs up, because there’s a time and a place to deal with everything, and the time and the place to deal with Bruce’s rejection is not right here and right now.
Christ, no wonder some people become supervillains because of love; shit drives a man madder even than his resurrection.
-
Harley leaves on a big Birds of Prey mission to absolutely murder a gang of child traffickers the day after Jason’s anniversary, and she comes back a whole 4 months later with little more than a couple of chipped teeth, a line of stitches up her back, and a pet dingo.
Jason’s at Pam’s for lunch when she bursts through the door yelling “Honey, I’m home!” with zero irony, and he doesn’t even get to say hi, hello, before she takes one look at him and his myriad of hickeys and the mussed hair of a man getting lovingly laid on the regular, and screams “Robin, you sly freakin’ dog!”
Jason tries to vault to freedom and away from this mortifying encounter, jumping for an open window, but massive vines catch him by the waist, and he resigns himself to his terrible, terrible fate. “Hey, Harley,” he tells her, and prepares for the most excruciating lunchtime of his life.
-
“Jason, stop!” Bruce calls out, even though he’s suspended upside down, limbs spread apart by coiling vines thicker than his wrist. “I know you don’t want to do this! Let me down; whatever’s happened to you, I can help.”
Jason moves out from behind the long, sweeping fronds of a palm, green-tinted and mostly nude. “That’s where you’re wrong, B,” he says, stepping closer to caress Bruce’s jaw, scratching at barely-there stubble with nails sharper than thorns. “This is the truest me you’re ever gonna get.” He licks his lips, partly for effect, partly to check his pheromone levels. God, he almost doses himself up, and it’s a delight to imagine what will happen to Bruce when he gets a taste.
“Stop, no, I don’t want this-!”
Too late. Jason holds Bruce steady as he kisses him, messy and with teeth. He bites on Bruce’s lips till he bleeds, brushes tongue against tongue, scratches welts into the fine skin of his cheeks, and doesn’t stop until he can feel Bruce panting and writhing under his hands, breathing coming in quicker and quicker. “Now you do, B,” Jason tells him, gently tugging the cowl off.
The fingerprint scanner on the master lock still recognises his prints, oh, god.
Bruce looks dazed, more out of it even than when he’s concussed. Pupils blown wide, he clearly struggles to focus on Jason, and he doesn’t do much more than growl when he’s unmasked.
He’s a sight, and it makes Jason giddy all at once. “God, B,” Jason says, “I know what you want, I know better’n you.” He presses another kiss to Bruce’s mouth, lets it linger and lets it soak. “I’m going to take care of you. Gonna take care of you right here in the greenhouse, right where Alfie might just come by if he figures he needs some herbs.” He moves a hand to Bruce’s chest, feels it heaving underneath the armour. “Anyone could walk in and see you like this, and you’d thank me for that, thank me for showing you off, wouldn’t you?”
Bruce tries to mount a protest, tries to struggle as Jason pulls his gauntlets off one at a time, leaving sharp bites all over Bruce’s hands, lingering on his pulse, on his scars. Bruce tries to stop the full-body shivers, but the most urgent feeling assaulting him is a sharp thrill at being seen like this, vulnerable and completely under Jason’s thrall. He grasps on to a vine with his left hand, and holds on.
By the time Jason has Bruce maneuvered onto his back, still suspended by the vines but bare-chested now, Bruce is sunk. There’s a haze over everything, and he’s drowning under the strength of Jason’s powers, the muggy heat of the greenhouse, the forced capitulation in bondage. It’s been years and years and years since he had last been this pliant and helpless, and it burns him up inside that he has no choice in this, that when Jason puts his mouth to him, sets his teeth against Bruce’s collarbone and bites, all he feels is dumb pleasure.
“That’s it,” Jason whispers against skin, “go down, take what I’m giving you.” A thought sends vines curling around Bruce’s pants, tugging them down, baring him to the open quiet of the greenhouse. “You’re a good boy; you scowl and struggle, act like a big Bat man, but this ,” emphasised by a squeeze of Bruce’s cock, “this is what you need .” A kiss to a navel, a bite at a hip, a hickey on an inner thigh. “Trussed up and spread out, just for me.”
The words rock the dreamy state a little; Bruce doesn’t and has never equated anything about his pleasure to a need. There are far too many important things to legitimately need for him to ever prioritise his desires, and it takes him out of it. Bruce doesn’t need this , it’s just a ploy to let Jason’s poison sink in deeper! He starts to struggle, realising that he’s completely undressed now, Jason’s idle hands drawing little welts up and down his thighs. “That’s not true,” he snarls, trying to free his hands. “Let me go!”
A thin vine wraps around Bruce’s throat in a threat, and Jason digs his claws into a bare belly. “And what part of it’s untrue, B?” With his other hand, he leisurely strokes Bruce’s hard cock, slick with sap. “This?” He squeezes, a shade too hard. “You even notice that you’ve been trembling this whole time? Poor Bruce, I don’t think you even mean half the shit that comes out your mouth.” A slight gesture, and the vine around Bruce’s neck twines once, twice, and snakes into his mouth, filling it completely. “There, I’ve taken care of your lying for you. Shouldn’t you thank me?”
In a fit of desperation, Bruce squeezes once around the vine that’s trapped his right hand, putting all his strength into it, hoping it’ll work, hoping…
Jason just laughs. “Good enough, I guess.” The claws pull away, and he starts jerking Bruce off faster, delighting in the little twitches in the hips and thighs that not even the great Bat can contain. “Let’s fill you up a little more, yeah?”
Bruce groans around the vine that starts fucking his throat, tries to pretend that it’s from revulsion, that the lack of control doesn’t just make him harder and dizzier.
Nothing could stop him from groaning when he feels a curious prod at his hole, slick with sap and too cool to be human. The vine works its way in, slow and ceaseless, and by the time Jason finally gets it to stop Bruce struggles to do anything more than just gasp and bite down, teeth glancing uselessly off the vine in his mouth.
“You’re fine,” Jason soothes him, rubbing absently at Bruce’s stuffed throat. “You love this, I can tell. How’s about we get you off, B, and we can experiment more with your limits?” At that, Jason moves his hand down to curiously press on where skin is stretched taut around a wrist-thick vine, and the sensation, the threat of more has Bruce convulsing, squeezing down hard on the vines around his hands.
Jason pauses his hands for a moment at that, head cocked like he’s trying to hear something through the plants, but soon enough he’s rubbing his thumb against Bruce’s hole, thorny nails retracted and gone, just a point of warmth where Bruce cannot take any more.
“C’mon, B,” Jason coaxes him, grip tight around his cock, wicked sharp thumbnail teasing the cockhead with every pass. “Give me what I want, so I can give you what you want, yeah?”
The capacity to think about what he wants has long since escaped Bruce; all he knows is that Jason is asking him for something, and this deep under all he wants to do is give Jason what he wants. His body seizes tight, his breathing is far too fast, and the only real thing in the world is Jason holding him, round the neck and the limbs and his cock, and it’s overwhelming to the point of madness.
Without warning and without preamble, Jason pushes his thumb in and up, and Bruce is screaming as he comes all over himself, all over Jason’s hand.
“Oh, baby,” he hears Jason murmuring all soft and awed. Bruce doesn’t have the ability to think about how Jason sounds, because Jason doesn’t stop.
Bruce loses all he has left of himself and passes out some time around the third finger that Jason pushes in, choked and completely, utterly full-up, echoes of praise following him on his way out.
-
Romance is dead, and Bruce Wayne killed it.
Afterglow happens to other people, and Jason hates and envies all of them. He just gets a debrief, and it took weeks just to negotiate it into a proper conversation instead of a deeply alarming Powerpoint presentation. It took a couple more weeks on top of that to get Bruce to relent to a spot of naked cuddling during what counts as aftercare for Batman, though for that fight Jason had been willing to go all-in and wait Bruce the hell out because sometimes (often! times!) Bruce really doesn’t know best.
So no using the board room in the Cave, no projectors, yes bare skin. It’s fertilizer for the soul, bitch.
They're huddled together in a bed of moss, which is soft and springy but also unfortunately, worryingly damp. To keep dry and warm, Bruce is wrapped up in his cape and cradled in Jason’s lap, clear of the ground. At least, he’s as cradled as a man can be when a man is over 6 feet of battle-hardened muscle.
God help him, Jason thinks it’s fucking cute to see Bruce bare but for his cape, face serious, datapad in hand to do a play-by-play of their most recent scene. Nothing about his life now seems like a reasonable progression from him clawing his way out of a coffin, it’s a pretty giant leap even from the first night he found Bruce out on his stoop and started to think about more, but as Pam would (cryptically) say, plant-willing, all things are possible.
Jason gives Bruce the few minutes he needs to find his centre and record what he wants to keep, and occupies his time with an extra thousand or so sharp-toothed hickeys dug into taut shoulders. “Lemme know when you’re ready for a breakdown, B,” he says, mouth full of skin. A grapevine verdant with fruit manifests nearby, and he starts feeding Bruce some grapes to fend off Bruce’s almost instinctive desire to knock back coffee after exertion. The day he can figure out how to make hydrangeas fetch him a sandwich, he'll finally ascend to his rightful place as Best Dom in the World.
To be fair, he might already be, since he has a lap full of fucked-pliant Bruce.
“Overall, this was a very satisfying scene,” Bruce says matter-of-factly, as though he’s not still buck-naked and loose-limbed, head doing its level best to burrow under Jason’s chin despite the extreme lack of free real estate. “I believe in a few weeks’ time, we’ll be able to meet your target of dual-penetration in the same orifice.”
God. Sexiness has just now been murdered, also struck down by Bruce Wayne.
“B, we have definitely talked about using the word ‘orifice’, c’mon, stop fucking with me.” He tries to jog his knee and it goes absolutely nowhere, because Bruce is heavy enough that Jason hasn’t actually felt his feet in a while. “But I definitely noticed that you were all gorgeous and relaxed and loose. I’m gonna get to fuck you alongside a vine in no time.” Jason noses at the side of Bruce’s head, nudges him into a kiss. “You did so fuckin’ well, Bruce.”
That does the trick, as Jason knew it would. Bruce shudders in his hold, still far gone enough that praise goes straight to his head and out his limbs, and add another tick for that Best Dom in the world award, because Jason doesn’t even tease him about it. “Anything else? Used lianas this time instead of grapevines, how’re your allergies?” Jason’s already checked, of course, and there were no red welts on Bruce’s limbs, but a good horticulturalist knows that not all issues are visible.
Get you a case of root rot, and a plant that looks completely alright today could be completely dead the day after. For a whole host of reasons, Jason’s going to keep a careful hand and eye on Bruce; this is part of his duty of care.
Almost on cue, Bruce holds his hand up right to Jason’s face, showcasing a gorgeous rash-free bruise starting up around his wrist.
Jason kisses it.
“Lianas work. And three squeezes for red, one squeeze for green is a good system, especially with you checking in so often.” Bruce pauses for a moment, an internal struggle in a lifetime of internal struggles. Jason gives him space and time, and is sweetly, sweetly repaid with “I felt safe.”
Damn right you should, Jason thinks and carefully doesn’t say, but the grapevine’s sprouting grapes like its life depends on it, and little wildflowers are pushing up through their mossy blanket. Goddamn, discreet he ain’t. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, voice a little rough. “Don’t go soft on me though, big guy. Anything I did wrong?”
“Just the one,” Bruce says, missing Jason’s little scrape of emotion as he puts aside the datapad and sprawls across Jason’s body. With the debrief out of his system, it’s now time for a restorative nap. In Jason’s apartment with the plants doing their best to look as lush as they would in a greenhouse, he’s safe and he doesn’t need to get up and get dressed and get away as soon as possible. “The dirty talk could do with some work. I might need you, Jay, but I don’t need this.” He pulls the cape up over his head, because if he’s going to sleep he’s going to do in pitch darkness, thanks. “It’s just a want,” he gets out in a tired growl, already halfway asleep. “I just want it, with you.”
And Bruce is out like a light, already softly snoring, and Jason just has to sit there and endure, because he just wants to scream and also maybe take Bruce under again after that bitch of a confession.
Instead, he squirms and gets the vines to help him into a slightly more comfortable recline without jostling Bruce, and plans out just how hideously smug he’s going to be the next night out with Pam and Harley.
(The answer is Very Extremely Smug, thanks!!)
-
a/n: it’s been a mentally and emotionally grueling fucking year, and i just want to write stories where people love each other and they’re at least a little happy _(:3」∠)_ jesus, what a year (lemon, it’s fucking june)
#jason todd#bruce wayne#jaybru#batman#harleen quinzel#pamela isley#poison ivy#harlivy#whale writing#kinkmeme fill#i think i spent as much time formatting and spellchecking as i did on writing the fill itself god#i sure do like me some slow-build burst of dumb fluorishing love#it's been a shitty ole year#let's just try to hang in there#c'mon now
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Hi, my absolute darling. You did it again. You’ve never disappointed me and I can guarantee you never will. So first of all, love how I get this subtle vibe, so subtly from your writing, that Jade is bored and impatient and misses her man’s attention haha. Can you imagine how annoyed he’d have been being culled away from his girl? She’s drinking a Jade! I love. Miles was wonderful as always, you capture his flamboyance as his NN self so well, being an extra babe and looking incredible, flirting
(c)
with Jade (thinks he can get away with it a bit more when Alex is occupied) and then letting slip how much effort baby boy went to with her drink. Still so addicted to her calling him baby and kissing his jaw, like not only is he weak for her affection, that’s such an ego-boost for Turner, for people to see her doing that. Stroking his jaw - pffff - can’t stop touching him, reminding him how great he is. Also - “And if yeh’re talkin’ 'bout tha’ guy earlier, 'e were eyein’ yeh inappropriately, alreyht?” - what a possessive bitch, what an idiot, I love him. His panic when there’s danger is so good. She is his priority now and watching that slow shift has been gorgeous, each time something threatening has happened (someone pointing a gun at them, the attack at the headquarters, the threats) he’s shown more and more care for her and you’ve carried that off sublimely. He’s such a cocky bitch, stone cold on the outside, that I get scared for him like don’t push it you idiot, there are guns pointed at you. He has such a temper and it comes across in such subtle but smart ways. Love how everything went back to before at his command but he barely had to do a thing. And then ugh, baby boy is so frustrated, angry and scared. You can tell how stressed he is and how important it all is to him. Has he ever sworn so much? Idiot. Loved the fact Jade knew he wasn’t finished and just nods at him to let that anger out because she knows there’s more. Also, love how she just reassures him constantly, doesn’t change him just reminds him how powerful he is, makes sure he knows he’s capable and is so in control and in charge even when things are going wrong. And there is so much development in her being honest and blaming herself because we know she’s a leo bish and wouldn’t say it if she didn’t think it. Then the smut. Her taking control to prove how powerful he is such a power move on both their parts, their struggle for dominance has shifted so much but is still just as intense and important. Can he not - “ran his fingers possessively through her hair to keep her close as she undid his belt buckle” - weak for that? Love her coaxing him to trust her, to relax, to let go for him and to stop thinking (I’m sorry is this Al to Lo, haha????) Him saying “please, sit down on meh” - shook. Him saying please is so sub whether he realises it or not so he justifies it with “fookin’ get teh work” like the demanding little shit he is. Just genuinely weak for every time he says her name or swears or you know… breathes. I love how much character development there is in every single chapter, laced throughout their sex, their conversations, it’s all so rich and complicated in the best way but so them and it never fails to impress me. After realising how far we are in the story I’m actually so sad at the thought of it being over sooner rather than later. Not ready to let them go or give up our brianstorming sessions or get each other so excited. This universe is incredible.I love you more than i could ever say, nothing compares to your talent and I’m so proud of you for everything. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
Urgh babe, you are insane!! 😭😭😭 Jade is annoyed and bored when she doesn’t get attention from her man, and yeah, he’s deffo just as pissed being called away from her!! I love writing extra Miles and I’m so glad that it shows and that you enjoy it as well, especially when him and Jade are flirting and he’s just spilling tea about their boy. I attack you purposely with those jaw and shoulder kisses and you know it, but I appreciate that you appreciate those, and I’m really glad I manage to show that Alex is an egoistical boss despite all his softness, because as worried as he is sometimes, he’s such a possessive and controlling bitch! He deffo wants to save his own ass and look powerful most of all, but she issss so important to him. Urghhh and I’m excited that I build at least a little bit of tension where you’re screaming at him in your head because he literally doesn’t care that there are guns pointed at him! People do what he says even without him doing anything just like Jade, and she needed to show him that again! But he has neverrr sworn so much!! She definitely tries to just remind him and show him that it’s all up to him and all in his control, especially because she does carry blame partially. Hahaha I love the Al and Lo parallel, but I’m really glad you see that it’s a power move on both their parts, that’s how it was meant to be! Thank you for always giving me the lines you enjoyed, it’s so encouraging and we all love a bit of sub Al! Just so weak for him in genereal??? I’m really happy you pick up on all these things and reassure me, it honestly means the world and you know how grateful I am for you! Well, it’s not over yet, there’s still loads and we’ll keep brainstorming because even when the story is over I will do the one-shots or maybe even a sequel, but we’re not anywhere close yet! Planning with you is so exciting, be it NN or something else, we’ll keep doing that either wayyy, don’t be a dramatic bishhhh! Thank you so much for being such a wonderful friend, I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you so so so much! 💓💕💗💖💜✨💛💙⭐🎇
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Voltron Season 3
Spoilers and Speculation Below
Okay, first? Ahhhhhh! So many feels this season. Like. Everything with Keith. Everything. And Lance. And Allura. And Shiro. Fuck. And Coran? Watching Voltron disappear into the rift? I cry.
HUNK WAS SO GOOD???????? Hunk and Pidge nerding out together over tech??? Hunk being a diplomat through cooking??? Hunk not even trying to bond with Black because he wants to stay with Yellow??? My son! God, I love him so much. *screams*
Meanwhile Keith is so very much NOT a diplomat, which, fair. Is about 70% that he’s in so much pain over losing Shiro and feeling pressured to replace him. Him being genuinely distraught over Black choosing him just broke my heart. Urgh.
LANCE. Lance was so vital to like?? Everything??? That happened? It was subtle, but it was so well done. He was always, always the one to step up and be what his team needed him to be. Comforting Keith. Supporting him as leader right from the start. Addressing the elephant in the room re: six paladins/five lions (and no no no baby, you are not the one who should be stepping down, but I love that he’d do that because he knows that letting it become an issue could tear this team apart.) It’s even implied that he took time off screen to try to help Allura bond with Blue, even though I’m sure it must have stung.
Speaking of--
Owwwww It hurts so bad that Blue shut Lance out and he took it as him doing something wrong, and I really really hope that gets addressed in season 4 (which really does feel like season 3 part 2--I’m not upset over the split at all, but this drop feels SO much like it’s setting up a massive pile of shit to hit the fan in October. I’m scared in the best possible way.) Also I’m 100% convinced that Lance and Blue are soulmates, and they think and feel the same way. Blue didn’t reject Lance, she just knew that the team needed him in Red--Keith needed him in Red. It was reiterated several times this season that the red paladin is literally the black paladin’s right hand, and Keith needed someone like Lance to both support him and reign him in. Keith grew so much this season, both as a person and as a leader, and a lot of that comes down to Lance. So I feel like in shutting Lance out, Blue was doing what Lance tried to do when Shiro returned: stepping aside, even though it hurt, for the good of the team. I just really hope Lance and Blue can talk it out (as much as you can talk with a lion).
Pidge didn’t really have any episodes where she was the focus this season, but I still loved all of her bits. How desperately she’s searching for Matt, how eager she was to try bonding with Black, how she totally geeked out with Hunk (Hunk-Pidge science bros! Fuck yeah!) I’m hoping her search for Matt is a big focus in season 4, but you can’t deny there were bigger problems to tackle first.
(Side note: I’m also hoping for more of the Blade in season 4. My heart hurts for them in ep 1, with how no one trust them and all. I just. Let them win people over. Let people start to tell stories of the Blade of Marmora, who risk their lives to save people in need. I want them to be heroes!!!)
Moving on to Allura. (GOD, Allura.) I already loved her, but she had SUCH a good arc this season. Her desperation to be a paladin--to live up to Alfor’s legacy, to help her friends, to make sure no one else had to risk their lives--AHHH! I love her so much. And her reaction to Keith in season 2 is so much more painful now. It wasn’t explicitly addressed here, but everything about this season just very subtly redefined what we saw last season. In particular, that line from episode 7--how Alfor was so blinded by compassion for Zarkon that he didn’t realize Zarkon’s true intent. You can just feel those memories coloring Allura’s reaction to Keith. She’s so damn afraid to trust her emotions, because that’s exactly what tore the previous paladins apart.
Also, the whole history of the paladins thing just breaks my heart. Even if I have to laugh at the fandom being right--Zarkon/Haggar WAS the first canon ship! XD
(But, god, seeing them both so young. I can’t.)
I am a little curious to see if they go deeper into what exactly happened to Zarkon and Haggar in the rift. It seems like Haggar, at least, forgot basically everything until she delved into Zarkon’s memories at the very end of this season. She didn’t even seem to realize Zarkon was her husband?? Which is...a major chunk of her life. The cat was 28 decaphebes old when Alfor returned, and Zarkon’s marriage to Haggar was implied to happen fairly quickly--so even assuming a decaphebe is a year (which still seems too short for me, because Alfor seemed to have aged a lot in those 28 "years” for a species who canonically lives somewhere in the 600 year range.) Anyway, that’s a tangent. If Haggar forgot so much of her own life, how much did Zarkon forget? How much of anything they’ve done has been because of what happened in the rift? I’m just. It seems almost like Haggar and Emperor Zarkon are shells being controlled by those creatures that invaded the Galra homeworld through the rift. (And I can’t be the only one getting a Wolf 359 vibe, right?) So now I’m conflicted--did Zarkon ever REALLY betray the paladins? I don’t want a Zarkon/Haggar redemption arc, but if they’re being controlled, I can’t really make myself hate them...
*unexpected and unwanted feels for the villains* Damnit, Dreamworks, you’re preying on my weakness.
(Oh, also? It was the rift/the creature that turned Haggar’s and Zarkon’s eyes all glowy. Regular Galra have pupils and often irises. Which for me reinforces the fan theory that “Galra” is almost more of an infection than a species. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that what we recognize as Galra--specifically the glowing eyes--are not a species trait, but an effect of whatever Zarkon and Haggar found in the rift. What if it’s spreading? It hasn’t just corrupted the head of the army, but virtually every soldier, at least partially. This season has raised a lot of questions about agency--both with these rift-spores and with the alternate reality Altean non-cogs. Which. Creepy. I’m halfway expecting this series to be building to a fight against the rift creatures for the fate of all sentient life in the universe--Galra included.)
Speaking of villains! Lotor and his generals! Holy shit. I love them. I don’t trust them half as far as I can throw them, but I love them! I was swearing up a storm the instant I realized they were going after Altean tech, specifically things related to the teludav. And while I agree that they seem to be trying to reopen the rift, I can’t help thinking there’s a lot more to it than that. Lotor has given no indication so far of what, exactly, his ultimate goals are--I kinda get the impression that he says what he needs to say to sway his audience. “I’ll make my father’s empire even stronger!” “You and your people can join us, and you never have to be afraid again!” He’s been toying with the paladins all season, even though he had chances to obliterate them. I just don’t buy the theory that he wants to open the rift to get Quintessence purely for the sake of having ultimate power. And, I mean. If he WAS doing that, he could have just requisitioned the teludav piece from the Galra base. He’s NOT working with the rest of the Empire. In fact, he’s doing everything in his power to keep his activities secret from Haggar and the rest of his father’s commanders. Why?? Lotor, give me answers! I need to know what you’re after. Rewriting this universe so mixed-race Galra aren’t regarded as sub-human (sub-Galran?) maybe? Hell, everything so far points to him being Haggar and Zarkon’s child (they were married, he’s gathering Altean tech, presumably because he has enough Altean blood to use it, he looks vaguely Altean and he was half Altean in GoLion.) So what if Lotor has realized his parents are being controlled by the rift-spore things? What if he’s trying to open the rift to find and destroy the... for lack of a better term... hive-mind? He seems to be trying to create his own version of Voltron, because he knows Voltron is the only thing that can stand up to the spores. That’s why he doesn’t care about destroying the paladins--in fact, he tells his generals not to inflict permanent damage. He’s keeping Voltron as a backup plan. He might have to resort to a truce. Can you imagine Lotor’s team and the paladins joining forces to attack the rift, knowing all the while that if they both make it out, they’ll probably turn on each other?? Fuck! There are so many possibilities here I can’t stop thinking about them.
And finally
Shiro
asdfj;lav’
You know what? Nope
Nope, I have too much to say about Shiro. My heart hurts for him and I’m terrified about what season 4 is going to bring, but that speculation is going in its own post.
I’ll add the link here when I get it up.
Edit: Here it is! My theory on Operation Kuron.
#voltron#voltron season 3#voltron spoilers#fuck#i'm so alive#*incoherent screaming*#speculation#meta
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Misfits Part 1
Summary: You have a regular college life, regular friends (a very big understatement) but your crush is a little bit...different from what people would think a person like you to be with
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE)
Word Count: 2,283
Warnings: a bit of swearing, too much pining, fluff
Notes: This chapter is not my best, as I had a lot of writer's block, and I knew this chapter would be quite slow. I swear the next chapter will be much more interesting but for now, here's this sort of boring part! It’s also sort of long!
Prologue
"Tash, I'm going to be lonely!" You wail, eyes wide.
She shakes her head, her red curls bouncing as her mouth curls into an amused smile.
"Y/N, your classes take place 250 metres away from here, that's hardly anything! You don't need me as an escort!" Natasha replies, rolling her eyes.
"I'm going to be so lonely! I could get mugged! I won't have anyone to talk to on that long walk of 250 metres!" You protest, slipping your jacket on.
"Urgh, you're such a pessimist! You'll be fine!" Natasha tells you, leaning back against the bench.
"I'll bake you a cake so you can have it when you get back." A quiet voice says from the living room.
You turn to see Wanda, her arms crossed and her mouth also smirking.
"Really?" You ask in excitement, because Wanda is the goddess of baking.
"I was going to do it anyway, but that's something to look forward to." Wanda shrugs, pushing a few stray locks away from her face.
Natasha bats her arm in annoyance, glaring at her. "Don't tell her that! Anyway," Nat turns back to you, "you're so melodramatic, just go, or you'll be late to class!"
Wanda snorts and walks past her, tossing her head so her hair hits Nat square on the face. Nat splutters and you laugh, giggling as Wanda winks at you.
"I still agree! You won't die you exaggerating shit!" Wanda calls from the kitchen.
"Fine, if I die on the way to class, I'm blaming you guys." You say, putting on your boots.
"You do that." Nat scoffs, as you lace your shoes up and grab your bag.
"You're all so inconsiderate." You shout, opening the door, and exiting before Natasha makes yet another retort.
"Alright, remember to submit your assignments next Tuesday. Email me if you need any concerns."
Your teacher says, unplugging her computer from the projector.
You smile, because you've already completed your assignment, after nights of almost no sleep. That means you have the rest of the week to yourself.
You get up from your desk, closing your laptop and putting it into its case.
"Bye Ana!" You tell your orange-haired friend and she grins back at you.
"I'm guessing you've finished it already?" She questions and you laugh, nodding.
"I've been a bit preoccupied with martial arts, but I'll hopefully have it finished by tomorrow." Ana says, smoothing out her skirt.
You collect up your bag as you ask, "How's Edwin?"
Ana's expression turns fond as she follows you out of the room. "Edwin's doing well. Last night, he set up a candle lit dinner! Isn't he romantic?" She gives a content sigh and you squeeze her arm.
"God, that is romantic. I want someone to do that for me." You say wishfully and Ana nudges you.
"It'll happen soon, I'm sure, don't give up hope Y/N." She smiles warmly.
"Thanks Ana, I'll keep that in mind." You reply, waving as she walks off.
Your phone pings to alert you of a new text, and you pull it out of your purse.
Wanda:
Finished baking the cake! Now hurry up, before Peg and Nat eat it all!
You let out a chuckle, and quickly stuff your phone back into your pouch.
Before you can take a step, you hear a hoarse voice call, "Y/N!"
You still immediately at the sound of that voice. You could recognise that voice from anywhere, and it always captures a red tinge on your cheeks, making you smile like an idiot. It's a voice you'd love to always hear for the rest of your life.
You turn around to see Bucky walking towards you, his eyes bright. He's wearing a black tank top over skinny, grey jeans, his tattoo showing in full view. His boots have heels that are about three inches high, you don't even know how he walks in them. Of course, he has to be wearing the damn eyeliner that you know is making your face flustered. The piercings look neat, all of them black, and his hair is tied into a high bun, a few strands of dark brown hair framing his face.
"Hi Bucky!" You say, trying not to stutter, as he comes closer. You try to keep your emotions at bay, but you can't keep the bright blush and smile on your face. God, he looks so good when he's close-up.
Once he reaches you, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. It's so hard not to squeal like a fan girl but you manage to simply wind your arms around his waist instead of going into a love struck fit.
He releases you after a few moments and he has his signature smirk. You sort of want to slap it off his face so you don't have to see it, don't have to swoon every time it appears on his face because it sets your heart beating a million times faster. Even worse, his fucking hip is jutted out to one side with his arms crossed, and you want to die.
"How are you?" He asks, his tone too bright for someone who's wearing all black.
"I'm good, don't have any work this week. What about you?" You say, your voice shaking a little. You put your hands into your pockets so that they don't do anything else stupid, like grip his face and pull him down for a kiss.
"Neither, I submitted my classical music composition assignment today. It sounded alright, but I honestly like..."
"Rock better, right?" You finish his sentence, and he laughs. And dear lord, if that laugh won't be the death of you. It's husky, soft and warm, definitely not dark or bland. You want to be the one to make him produce that sound over and over again.
"You know me so well, Y/N." He goes to ruffle your hair but you quickly dodge out of the way, letting out a small giggle.
"Hey, want to walk back to the dorms together?" He asks suddenly and your eyes widen in surprise.
How the hell do you walk 250 metres beside your crush? It's going to end in absolute disaster, that's for sure. But, what do you have to lose? You're already made out to be a complete idiot.
"Okay, I'd love to...I mean, I wouldn't mind walking back so um...yeah! Yeah, I'll walk back with you!"
You're such a fucking klutz. You're inwardly kicking yourself into oblivion. While face-palming constantly.
He laughs softly again while your cheeks redden further, from embarrassment.
"Good, let's go then."
He puts an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer. You shiver a little, feeling his side against yours. You don't know if you've ever been this close to him, but it's sending tingles up your spine. He feels warm and sturdy next to you, and you dare to lean a little closer to him.
As you walk out of the building, you can hear that Bucky's humming a small tune and it makes you smile. His voice does things to your insides and the melody that you're hearing pairs well with that husky tone.
You remember that neither of you had gotten lunch, then you remember the food back at your dorm. Your mouth makes up a decision faster than your brain.
"Uh...Wanda baked a cake, do you...do you want to come back to ours?" You ask, stuttering in several places and hoping that he won't interpret it as anything more than a casual hang out. Though you would definitely want something more than a casual hang out, you can't say that.
"Hell yeah, that would be great!" Bucky grins, his lip piercing winking in the sunlight. You nod furiously, before averting yourself from his gaze quickly.
"God, I haven't even had breakfast yet." He mutters, shaking his head.
"Slept in?" You offer tentatively, and he nods, huffing a sigh that blows the few loose strands of hair, off his face. It looks so damn cute as he pouts a little, and you almost jolt a little when you feel his fingers drumming against your collarbone. Just his slightest movements makes your heart rate speed up, especially when you, yourself, can feel his movements.
"Had a late night." He explains simply, and you know what he means. You know just from the look of him that he goes to parties, a lot. Not that you definitely know, you can just tell. He probably hooks up with some girls too, you think jealously. You don't speak that much to him in fear of embarrassing yourself, and you don't know much about his personal life, but he's a catch. He'd always have girls throwing themselves at him.
"I had to finish the composition and I finished at 2am. God, it took forever." He continues, and you raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"No parties?" You ask, confused slightly. He lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
"I hardly ever go to parties. Always recording music, and also, they don't really interest me in the first place."
"Oh." Is all you can say. Well then. That image of him is shattered. Now you're not so sure if you know him as well as you thought you did. That means he probably doesn't interact with as many girls you thought he did. You smile inwardly, thinking that you maybe have a chance, but then the smile disappears as soon as you remember that you are not going to get a chance with this guy.
"What's the 'oh' for?" He smiles at you, his hand coming up to run along his line of piercings.
"What? Uh....nothing!" You say hurriedly and his smile widens, as his fingers play with one of the sleepers.
"Alright then." He's obviously unconvinced but he doesn't press the matter as you approach your dorm.
"Hey James!" Natasha greets him after hugging you.
"Hi Nat, how are you?" He replies, grinning at her. He doesn't notice the very obvious wink Nat gives you behind his back, and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore her kissy faces.
"Good, I've been doing some sub teacher work in Shield High School." She says simply, moving past the two of you into the kitchen.
"What sort of name is 'Shield High School,' honestly?" Bucky asks incredulously, scoffing and tightening his hair elastic. The small action makes you smile, ducking your head.
"I wasn't the one who founded it." Nat calls, as you both begin slowly walking down the hallway.
Bucky closes his eyes and inhales, murmuring, "god, it smells absolutely delicious." When his eyes flutter open lightly, you swear that's the moment when you think 'I'm out, this is it, I'm screwed."
His eyes open fully, his stormy blue irises surrounded in the black liner, and he looks over to you, watching him amusedly.
"Excuse me, but when nobody in your dorm barely ever cooks, you get used to takeaway, not freshly baked cakes." He snorts, nudging you lightly.
"You're all just lazy!" You hear Peggy's voice, and, momentarily ignoring your crush, you run into the kitchen, throwing yourself into your best friend's arms.
"Peggy!" You grin at her, as she hugs you back.
"How was the class?" She asks, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head. "Had to wake up early, right?"
"Sadly, yes. No more work though for the rest of the week though, so that's good." You release her reluctantly, and she casts a glance at Bucky, who's entering the room. She opens her mouth, with one corner of her mouth turned up, and you quickly say, "don't you dare."
"Spoil sport. Just trying to help you out." She runs a hand through her brown curly locks and you turn your back towards her pointedly. "Scaredy cat." She mutters underneath her breath, and you pretend not to hear, in favour of watching Wanda cut the cake.
Bucky's right, it smells amazing and it looks amazing too.
"If I didn't know better, I'd assume you've fallen in love with the cake." Wanda says to Bucky, her eyes still down.
"It's love at first sight." He says jokingly, Nat taking out a few plates and setting them on the counter.
"It's single, go ahead." Peggy tells him smoothly, and that's when you realise that your friends are steering Bucky onto the path of...love. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
You avoid all eye contact with every person in the room, inwardly trying to figure out a way to get out of this uncomfortable situation. You sometimes hate your friends for doing this to you, no, rephrase that, you always hate your friends for trying to get you to tell your feelings to Bucky. You just...can't, you're too shy to.
You consider bolting out of the room, but one of them would follow you and worse still, Bucky would follow you. So there's basically no way you can escape.
"Well, so am I, so that would go well. We'd make a great match." Bucky smirks, and you feel his black rimmed eyes on you. That smile with the piercing is irresistible but you look everywhere but at him. After a few moments, he looks away, his smile dropping a little and you look up again, hurriedly grabbing a slice of cake. He does the same, and as soon as he takes a bite, he lets out a content hum.
"God, this is incredible." It's sort of funny to see an all black clad male in his 20s remarking passionately at how much he loves that cake, going on for about 15 minutes until even all your room mates are slightly sick of his acclaim. But how can you confess to Bucky when he likes a damn piece of cake better than you?
Permanent tags (OPEN): @thecrownedrose @vibranium-arm @gallifreyansass @omalleysgirl22 @girlwith100names @buckysinthesinbin @aenna-4 @cameronahugenerd
Misfits tags (OPEN): @universal-glitch @cami23593 @magellan-88 @fandomgirl94
#bucky#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu#marvel#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#sebastian stan#sebstan#seb stan#seb stan x reader#sebastian stan x reader#carter baizen#chase collins#lance tucker#chris beck#jefferson the mad hatter#jefferson ouat#marvel cinematic universe#hal carter#clay appuzzo#natasha romanoff#peggy carter#ana jarvis#edwin jarvis#wanda maximoff#black widow#winter soldier#scarlet witch#agent carter
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