𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜

[darlingdollkiss]

I’M A BARBIE GIRL ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

darling ⋆˚࿔ @digitaldarlingxo -side blog

she/her 20 girly girl dancer brontë enthusiast british gal blondie jason todd’s girl adhd little miss talk your ear off barbie fangirl star sapphire corps addison rae defender <3

RULES MASTERLIST

[darlingdollkiss]

why’d you tag it as jason todd smut when its not gen question

sometimes i genuinely don’t mean to and i just misclick as all the tags show up, but sometimes i do it to push the post out there because people only read smut nowadays lol😭

[darlingdollkiss]

Jason todd x reader who has no friends angst

outcast jason todd x reader.

in which two lonely hearts find eachother.

tags: smoking, deep convos, nothing crazy tbh, but i love this request! i kind of went a bit deep mysterious shit with it idk.

everyone thinks loneliness is loud.

it isnt.

it’s quiet. controlled. clean.

it’s sitting in the back of the classroom at sixteen and knowing every secret in the room. because no one ever bothered to lower their voice around you.

it’s sitting on the subway at nineteen and knowing every secret on the train. because no one ever bothers to lower their voice around you.

you could have friends if you wanted.

you’re almost certain of it.

all it would take is a smile that lasts half a second longer. a confession. a lie.

but you like being alone. the softness of it. how much it makes you think.

sonder. that’s the word.

the strong feeling of realizing that every person you see has their own life story in which they are the most important person.

that’s why you like being alone.

seeing people and wondering what could possibly be going on in their life.

you stand now in a crowded bar, smoking a cigarette.

not one of those bars where the music is loud and the lights are louder, more quiet, dim.

the criminal part of gotham. that’s where this bar is.

you look at every face, wondering what their life entails.

the couple in the corner arguing.

the man who keeps trying to join in on conversations.

the girl that keeps laughing too hard at her dates jokes.

everyone in this room has a different story, but right now, you only want to know one.

he’s tall. 6’1 at least. black hair, one white streak in the front, that splits into his middle part. scars on his face. they don’t look like typical scars, they look like scars with stories.

he’s spotted you by know, you’re sure of it. either that or there’s something interesting just behind you. which you doubt.

so you take another drag and turn slightly.

sure enough…

“hey.”

his voice is rough and dueep. almost a mumble.

you turn around slowly, calmly.

he’s even prettier up close. freckles on his nose, lips in a half smirk. you couldn’t tell if his eyes were blue or green when he was far away, now you’re sure they’re green.

“hi.”

“i- uh, saw you. from over there.” he nods his head slightly back to where he was standing earlier.

he looks around at where you’re stood for a second. “you here alone?”

you nod. “why? you gonna kidnap me?” you know you’re joking, but it is gotham, and there is every chance this man is a murderer.

“no, not quite. i mean, not at all. i’m not a kidnapper.”

you furrow your brows and wince a little.

“shit, that makes me seem even more like a kidnapper, right?” he sighs, you feel bad for him, this probably isn’t going the way he planned.

“no it’s fine.” you say with a light breath, almost like a laugh. “you’re here alone too.”

it isn’t a question when you say it, more so an observation. you know he’s alone.

he nods.

“where are your friends?”

you furrow your brows at that.

friends.

“i..” you shake your head, and pull yourself together. god this is embarrassing. “i don’t really have many… friends.”

poor thing, he looks a little shocked for just a second, almost guilty. as if he didn’t mean to ask you that. as if it came out wrong.

“i get it. i get being lonely. kind of sucks.”

“i don’t think so.”

“you don’t?” he says.

you shake your head.

“loneliness isn’t always this tragic, ugly thing.” you take a drag of your cigarette and put it out.

“sometimes it’s just proof you’re paying attention, that you can sit quietly and notice the way everyone else is living whole secret lives around you. and it feels shitty because you miss out sometimes, but it also means you get to see the world a little differently.”

he looks stunned truly stunned. he never looked at it like that. ever.

“shit.”

you giggle lightly.

“yeah. sorry. that was a lot. i don’t know what came over me.”

he shakes his head quickly, and puts his hand on your arm lightly. and then takes it away just as quick as he put it there.

“no, it was… beautiful.”

you just smile, and shake your head.

you’ve never met anyone that has seen you this way.

you’re both just sort of… staring. at each other.

his eyes are dashing all over your face, he smiles a little. you smile back.

and then his phone rings.

“shit, i need to take this. give me one sec.”

he walks out.

you stand there smiling, unaware he won’t return.

[darlingdollkiss]

electric dreams dick grayson x reader.

a 1980s dick grayson x reader au! this has been cooking my my drafts and in my notes for a very long time. the whole series is one of my favourite things i have ever written. the whole series is based on the song together in electric dreams by phil oakey and giorgio moroder!

part 1 -however far it seems.

more soon…

[darlingdollkiss]

however far it seems dick grayson x reader.

part one of the electric dreams series! pls comment if you would like to be on the tag list for this series!

tags: 1980s au. this is mostly backstory and story building more than anything, but i promise part two will be coming asap!

the year is 1984. it’s late february.

ronald reagan is in the middle of his first term as president, footloose has just come out, madonna is slowly creeping up the charts, and hair is getting bigger every single day.

you have not seen dick grayson since december 31st 1983, where you told him that you were moving to blüdhaven.

confetti was everywhere, with it being new years and everything, but all you could see was his face.

the way his entire expression dropped as you explained that gotham simply wasn’t for you anymore, that blüdhaven really wasn’t that far. that you’d still be together, even if it was just in dreams.

“however far it seems.” you had said. you had promised.

you haven’t seen him since.

and right now, your alarm is going off.

it has been for thirty minutes, meaning you are already guaranteed to be at least ten minutes late for your new job at the department store. unless you don’t do your hair and makeup, which would be blasphemy.

so you get ready in a rush. a rush of blue eyeshadow and hairspray and your work clothes.

you like your work clothes. you think? black blazer, black leggings, heels, a statement belt. it’s not particularly something you’d wear out of work, but it makes you feel grown up either way. like this is all real.

like you really are twenty years old and on your way to your full time job in blüdhaven, not nineteen and giggling on a rooftop with dick grayson.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is, you’re late for work.

you know you’re late because of the face tiffany gives you.

tiffany, who is your boss, who says ‘sweetie’ the same way a general would say ‘fire.’

tiff isn’t particularly hostile. she clearly peaked emotionally sometime between homeroom and prom and has been coasting on that high ever since, but can you blame her? she’s gorgeous.

“you’re late. you know that? ten minutes late.”

you nod, putting your bag under the counter and looking at yourself in your compact.

“i like your eyshadow today. i hated it yesterday, it washed you out. i just didn’t want to tell you because you seemed so confident.” she says it so simply, and then walks away.

all you can do is sigh.

this is going to be a long day.

and it is. customers from ages eleven to ninety harass you with the most stupid questions from 9:18am to 5:02pm.

what a dream.

anyway, you leave ten minutes after you would have usually left work, so now you’re unsure wether your usual route home will be more crowded, or less crowded.

and as you leave the building, you don’t see it.

the flash of blue and black flipping from roof to roof as you walk home.

[that-dumb-bunny]

MORE TEXTS FROM HAL JORDAN !!

CONTENT. Smau, fluff, suggestive, fem!reader, they are freaks

BUNNY THOUGHTS. part one part two

ribbon divider by @/cursed-carmine

[darlingdollkiss]

Jason x reader with childhood ptsd

just on the topic of going through my inbox. i got this a few days ago and have been dancing around doing it.

i myself haven’t personally dealt with childhood ptsd, i mean my parents divorced when i was like 5 and that’s about it, and that is hardly trauma, it just made me an attention seeker.

i think i’m going to have to say that sadly i will not write this, as it feels insensitive for me to write about something i personally have no experience with.

but to whoever sent this ask, i hope you’re okay baby💕💕.

[darlingdollkiss]

Hi love!

If you are accepting requests, would you be willing to give us some Jason Todd giving reader a massage after a hard day and some soft smut for the horny moms ladies? 🥹

Thank you! 💛

hi my love!

i literally just fully wrote this and it was beautiful and perfect and amazing.

then it fucking deleted.

so i promise you it’s coming soon im not ignoring you! @eatshitanddie- hopefully later today i just have to shower lol!

i do also have an adrian chase x bimbo!reader coming up!

[digitaldarlingxo]

i have an absolutely crazy 80s gotham dick grayson x reader fic brewing in my drafts on my main account but idfk if i can be bothered constantly writing and proof reading a whole series but im also low key cooking up a storm. @darlingdollkiss is my main for ppl that follow me on this blog but not on my main btw!

[darlingdollkiss]

no for real bru do i continue writing it

[storytimewithtibby]

A Taste of Ivory pt1 Harvey "Two Face" Dent x reader wc: 2,572

cw: improper use of firearm

    You could admit that maybe it had been a very stupid thing to say, gaze mirroring Two Face’s as the mismatched orbs rolled upwards to follow as the coin flipped in the air. God help you but you couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart, the arc ending as gravity began to pull it back down. Hands still tied in front of you, everything seemed to slow down, seemed to threaten to pause as your breath caught when his hand snatched the coin out of the air.

     He wasn’t smiling, on either side of his face, glaring down at the coin much as he seemed to glare at everything. Which only made you panic internally. The former district attorney with his split mind, his obsession with chance. Edging backwards, the legs of the chair that you’d been sitting on scraped softly as you bumped it, seeming to catch his ear as he shifted his attention to you.

“Fate’s feeling generous today.’ He growled, stalking closer, the hand holding the coin in a tightly closed fist held between the two of you. “Not often neither of us minds.’

     That could mean anything, and told you absolutely nothing, taking another half step back stymied by the chair. When the gun lifted you knew, the coin had landed on tails. Shit. Well at least a bullet was a faster death than you could have gotten from over half the other Rogues of Gotham. They got creative for no damned reason at all. When the end of the barrel rested against your lower lip under the duct tape, your gaze shifted down to the gleaming black metal, fighting back a whimper. 

     You wouldn’t have even been here if his goons hadn’t fucked up, he hadn’t even wanted you. He’d wanted some dignitary that was trying to fly under the radar. Some hoity toity that he could ransom and terrorize until she was rescued. Instead he’d gotten you, and your famous last words were going to be Stop looking at me like you can’t figure out if you want to kill me or kiss me. There was a soft rasping sound as he skimmed the barrel back and forth, his lidded eye half falling as he stopped meeting your eyes to look at the action instead.

“Have you ever wrapped that bratty mouth of yours around the barrel of a magnum?’ Definitely tails, and you blinked as the fear piqued into bitter resignation, finally managing to crest the hill only to find there was no decline. Just a stop at a flat plateau with nowhere left to go. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t do that at least once in your life.’

     That tickled him, a low chuckle escaping him as he enjoyed the implications, fingers lifting to grab hold of an edge to yank the tape off your mouth. Even if you could have thought of something to say, it was hard to think with him invading your personal space, the feel of the cool metal on your lower lip… A yelp escaped you as the chair that had been scooting reluctantly didn’t move when you nudged it, falling backwards and feeling fingers grab the front of your shirt. He still seemed amused, thumb playing with the grip before looking first at the coin then back to you again. 

“Lady Luck really likes you.’ He crooned, and somehow that was spookier than the growl. “But she turns on everyone eventually.’

     Conflicting, staring up the length of his arm as he held you just this side of tumbling over the traitorous chair. When he did drop you it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it could have, tailbone bouncing off the metal piping of the cheap chair with a yelp. A short lived sound as he leaned over you, his face so very close to your own. Why couldn’t he just shoot you? Why did every rogue in Gotham have to put on a fucking show before- Your mental grousing abruptly cut off as your world shifted, blinking as you fought nausea at the abrupt adjustment as he yanked the chair upright, half spilling you against him. 

“Not tonight, but soon dolly.’ An arm moved to rest against your lower back, pulling you with him as he straightened. The gun was back again, pressing underneath your jaw to tilt your head back. “Now let’s see if I remember how this goes.’

     How hard was it to pull a trigger? And why was he leaning clo- Your bound hands lifted to press against his chest even as he kissed you, the lips were soft, his teeth a gentle press of bone. It was slightly jarring, feeling the rough edged skin against the curve of your upper lip. The pleasant warm pressure of his lips and then the slick heat of his tongue as it skimmed across your lower lip. 

     You could understand how he’d been a dangerous playboy before… A sharp nip of his teeth startled you, his arm pressing you so tightly against him the grip of his other gun dug into your middle.Then it was hard to breathe, your feet stumbling as he turned you, guiding you until your back hit one of the support pillars. Your head spun as the kiss deepened, his hand sliding down to grip your ass and squeeze it startling a noise out of you.

     Fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, you stared up at him as he pulled back. He looked pleased, well half of him did, still pressed tight against you as his lips curled into a smirk.

“Yeah, I still remember.’

-*

     The metal was warm, slick with your saliva as you stared up from where you knelt. His knees lightly rested against the curve of your shoulders, slouched in the chair as his hooded eye gleamed beneath the brief fan of lashes. You’d have described him as bored if not for the sheen of sweat near his upper lip, the way his steady breathing paused when you opened your mouth to show how your tongue cradled the barrel. 

“You look louche, dolly.’ The drawled words surprised you, the heat that simmered beneath the controlled tone. “But we’re damned if we can think of a prettier little pinup.’

     It was good that they agreed on something, even if it meant the gun shifted, feeling the sight at the end of the barrel brush against the roof of your mouth. Felt the tension in your body like an overly keyed string threatening to snap at the first vibration. You could see how much he enjoyed your attention to his sidearm, letting out a low mewl to test the waters. His reaction was immediate, the sight sliding further into your mouth to drag along the soft palette. The jokes you’d been making to yourself about just the tip vanished beneath the icy hint at darker endings to this game of chicken. Even so, your mouth slowly closed til your lips encased the barrel before leaning towards him with a low moan. 

     He’d already made it very clear there was no safety on the gun, the smell of burnt gunpowder still caught in your sinuses, squirming slightly as the finger resting in the trigger guard flexed marginally. It should worry you more, it should have at least prompted a flicker of self preservation to ignite into a flare worthy warning light. But each time his lips twitched, exposed tendons flexed briefly, you had to push just a little farther. Sliding back and forth on the barrel, you caught a shadow of movement as he shifted in the chair, the loose fist that had been supporting his head clenching as you uselessly tried to grip the floor. 

     You wanted something warmer, with a little less resistance, hips writhing as you pressed your thighs together at the thought. You could fit both, the gun barrel and his- As if he could see the picture you’d begun to lasciviously paint in your mind, Harvey straightened slightly and let his other hand fall to his lap. You didn’t dare look away from his face, he’d made it very clear earlier that’s where your gaze stayed, but you could hear the zipper. Heard the impatient, brief grunt as he tugged harshly at the belt realizing he’d have to do things properly. Spit escaped the corner of your mouth when the gun barrel twisted in your mouth, your eyes widening briefly when you realized he hadn’t meant to do it. 

     A brief narrowing of his eye, and a flick of the barrel ordered you to keep going. You hadn’t realized you’d paused, frozen in a brief second of alarm, your mind recognizing the danger and attempting not to add to push further. But the pressure of the metal in your mouth was insistent, continuing your ministrations as Harvey managed to undo his belt, and thumb open the fastener for his slacks one handed. Desire stole the breath from your lungs as he settled again, doing nothing more than watching as your head bobbed on the barrel. 

     This was so far past the joke you’d thought it to be when he’d pulled out the magnum and told you to kneel. Had used the gun to point at the ground in front of him before resting it against your lower lip and crooning Give the pretty boy a kiss. Never in your midnight wanderings had you ever thought about Harvey asking you to fellate Ivory, or the way he’d watch you and become so aroused he had to literally loosen his belt. 

“Just look at you…’ Your body squirmed again, his voice was low, grating, a harsh rasp that made muscles clench in a reaction that had little to do with fight or flight. “Such a delicate debauchery.’

     Voice like a crow, spins words like gold. Some idiot had made the observation on one of his dozens of arrest announcements online. It had seemed ridiculous then, not so much now as you squirmed again trying to garner some friction to the junction of your legs. In the periphery of your vision you saw him palm his cock through fabric and squeeze. A soft strangled noise escaped your throat as you’d been trying to breathe, swallow, and whine all at the same moment. He hadn’t even touched you, but you felt like you were drowning. A throbbing ache that had spread across your nerves until you had to fight against shuddering. 

     But you kept your mouth on the gun steady, even if occasionally you’d writhe under the intensity of his gaze. Even if you’d start to lift one hand from the floor to clutch at the fabric of his slacks, only to let go when he flicked his eyebrow upward. The only thing that had touched you was uncaring, unforgiving metal. Cold metal that had warmed under your ministrations. Not unlike certain anatomy would harden, lengthen, under very similar care. Your teeth scraped on the metal briefly as you looked down when he slid into the opening of his pants, head jerking back up when he tsked softly. 

     The gun tilted, and so did your head, until you were looking upwards with the barrel sliding free and down. Down and scraping at the saliva slick skin of your chin, tapping when you tried to lower it. So you stayed there, looking above his head as the gun rested at the edge of your chin. When he stood up, the gun sliding along your jaw, you had a brief moment of shame flash through you at how eagerly you opened your mouth and slid your tongue out. At this point looking desperate was so low on your concerns it barely registered. 

“Oh dolly, you’re going to make me blush.’ 

      Metal pressing against the side of your head, the tops of his fingers lightly resting, silently ordered you not to move. A warning that was hard to heed as he sighed, a gratified sound as he began to stroke himself. At least you had to assume, as Harvey still wasn’t allowing you to see. But you could see the way his upper arm shifted the fabric. His eye briefly closing with another satisfied sigh before opening as he stared down at you. Squirming as you struggled not to look, it got harder to breathe properly as you got more restless. What would he do if you decided to lick the frenulum, then dragged the tip of your tongue to tease the slit? 

     Sadistically, Harvey kept you from moving with only the briefest negative reactions, straining the muscle in your mouth to chase a taste. Your neck was beginning to hurt, your knees in that awkward half numb stage from kneeling on them directly. You could only just see the movement of his hand, the slow steady glide of it, and then it brushed the tip of your tongue. A low noise rattled out of his chest as he pulled back when your head began to lower again. Instead you were rewarded by the muzzle briefly resting against your temple. 

“Up.’ He breathed, pushing the metal tighter against your skin as his strokes quickened briefly. “How badly do you want it?’

     Bad enough you had completely forgotten about the gun, you thought bemused, slowly curling the end of your tongue. That pulled a noise out of him that twisted your insides with want, your hands moving to his thighs as you briefly lost your balance. Bad enough you were willing to push your luck, fingers gripping the tense muscle and dragging downward. Bad enough that when he slid the muzzle to your cheek you didn’t hesitate, turning you head to lick the metal with the flat of your tongue eliciting a soft Fuck from the former District Attorney. 

     Bad enough that you teased the end of the barrel with flicks of your tongue as your eyes closed, a low moan in your throat at the brief glimpse you’d managed to catch. You heard when he cocked the hammer, and the hushed Just like that he rasped as you slid the barrel into your open mouth, dragging your tongue along the underside as you pulled back. You knew the shape of the barrel almost as well as he did you mused, mimicking the way you’d like to be servicing something else. It was when you swallowed, lips wrapped around the barrel with momentarily hollowed cheeks, his willpower crumbled. 

     Listening to his ragged breathing, feeling the gun shift in your mouth, you felt a conflicting measure of pride and disappointment recognizing he was close. The corner of your mouth ached as the yanked the gun away from you, hearing the dull sound of it slamming on the table as his body leaned closer. A hot spurt hit the roof of your mouth as you turned your head, just managing to do so in time, running your tongue along the frenulum and down until the tip of it met his hand on an upstroke. Another spurt as you closed your mouth and sucked, teeth pressing down lightly. 

“Jesus fucking Chri-’ was the mangled response from above you, feeling the vibration of his groan even as he stopped stroking his shaft to cup the back of your head and thrust into your mouth. “Don’t stop, God damn you, don’t you stop.’

     You had been starting to loosen your jaw, but instead tightened slightly as the length of him dragged across your teeth. His body jerked even as he bottomed out, trying to thrust in deeper. 

“Harder.’ 

      Suck or bite? Unsure, you did both and felt another scalding spurt against the back of your throat as a low keen escaped the man fucking your throat with hard short thrusts. When he finally released your head, you pulled back, still swallowing before taking a deep breath of air. That had been unexpected, sucking on the head just before it passed your lips, feeling him jerk away to sit in the chair he’d so recently vacated. He was rubbing part of the barrel against his temple, eyes closed as he tried to slow his breathing. 

     Watching him compose himself, you couldn’t help taking in the disheveled tableau presented to you. You hadn’t realized this had been an option, noticing that has time ticked by his girth was already hardening again. When he opened his eye to look at you, his mouth curled into a smile that sent shivers along your spine. 

“Bend over the desk, dolly.’

[darlingdollkiss]

cool as ice tim drake x reader.

in which time drake has the fattest crush on you ever, but tries his hardest to keep it cool.

tags: figure skater reader!xfigure skater tim! it’s like a very fluffy enemies to lovers. hardly enemies tho.

you have been skating since the age of five. figure skating is your whole life.

every program, every competition, every medal. you remember it all. even down to the worst moments. every missed landing, every slip, every loss.

through awkward phases and many friendships, the one thing that has remained nothing but consistent in your life is skating.

it brings you so much peace to spin around on the ice, pour your feelings out through spins and leaps. there is nothing more calming than that first step onto the rink.

only now, there’s a problem.

you’re so used to skating alone. feeling that calm and fluidness of the ice in solitary.

but now, your coach has decided that he would love for you to do pairs.

specifically with a boy named tim drake.

you’ve seen tim at the rink before. and you won’t deny it, he’s great. he’s really good. skilled, calculated. he looks like he knows what he’s doing. because he does.

however, unfortunately you have no idea that tim happens to have the biggest crush on you ever.

he’s seen you on the ice, and every time he’s been mesmerised, consumed by the way your body glides with the music. at comps, he’s seen you too. seen you in the glory of a win, seen you in the disappointment of a lose.

and when coach matt said he wanted tim to start doing pairs with you, he truly believed it was some sort of divine intervention.

but seeing your face right now as you stand on the ice beside him, coach matt in front of you talking about nothing, tim doubts himself.

it’s not that you look angry, more so just very quietly pissed.

and you are, because you like to work alone. you work better alone. you love people, you love talking with people and making friends. but skating has always been your individual thing.

“i just wanna see if you guys have god chemistry first. not in the romantic sense, of course, just making sure you’re nice to look at as a pair.” matt says, watching you both. “could we try seeing how in sync you can get first?”

you skate backwards slowly, and tim follows.

just as matt is setting something or other up, tim bumps your shoulder.

“it’s really great to be working with you.”

you glance at him, eyes scanning over his face. “yeah, you too.”

there’s no truth in your words, but your tone isn’t harsh.

and as much as you hate to admit it, you do work pretty well together.

every jump is in sync, every spin together looks like perfection on blades.

the whole session is coming to an end, but matt really wants to try some sort of lift.

“just put your hands on her waist, tim. yeah, that’s it, okay, now try and lift her.”

tim’s hands are warm at your waist, and you can feel his gentle breath at your neck. he lifts you slowly, like you weigh nothing, and looks at matt for approval.

“perfect, now try and spin while you’re holding her, and you maybe do something cool with your arms while you’re up there.”

he spins around, and you feel free. every jump and spin when you’re alone feels like flying, but this feels more effortless, like you truly are flying.

he puts you down, and you turn back to face him a little. he gives you a slightly shy smile, your lip twitches at one side, but before you can return the smile, matt claps loudly.

maybe pairs aren’t so bad…?

idk whether i want to make a part 2 to this because im currently in the process of writing a dick 80s au series. so idk what’s the priority. but you guys let me know!

[suigenerisisadiva]

Tim Drake Headcanons <3

My Tim Drake headcanons, mostly inspired by my brothers. lit just crack, some swear words.

D1 photographer (ik this is canon but still), Cass and Steph's entire instagram pages are all taken by him, he is the family photographer every time a pic needs to be taken.

is a fucking fein for gatorade.

A fnaf kid and a gacha kid

as well as chicken nuggets, will always get them from McDonald's without fail every order.

uses "Erm actually 🤓👆" in arguments unironically

redditor final boss

picked his boogers as a kid

would also naruto run in the halls (its okay, to be cringe is to be free)

bullies 12 year olds on roblox for fun (i just know he loved royal high and flee the facility)

loves redstone engineering on minecraft

had a crush on kim possible when he was younger

tried to listen to juicewrld during patrol and got slimed out by Bruce

pretends like he's best friends with your teachers

simultaneously looks 14 and 24

speaking of 24, he will be getting wings at that age thanks to his redbull addiction

i feel like he'd use XD

farts on Damian sometimes to piss him off (spoiler: it works spectacularly)

back to his photography, has a folder full of horrible photos of everyone, calls it his kompromat file, which he shares with Babs.

i feel like he'd listen to green day, as well as radiohead

can play the cello super well! was kinda forced to by his parents to play a classical instrument, but he enjoys playing the electric guitar and drums

watches "Young Sheldon" religiously

he ships klance (trait adopted from Dick)

is fluent in like one million languages

is genuinely a fire dancer

would mew back in like 2024 and got roped into looksmaxxing for a while until steph told him it was bad

has very smooth hands, takes good care of them

has very long lashes

almond shaped nail beds

steps outside either wearing the bummiest outfits, borderline homeless, or a fucking model. No in between

sends 1000+ instagram reels and tiktoks to everyone he knows

likes tame impala

memorised all of Colombia's cartel history because him and Bernard watched Narcos on a random Saturday night and got addicted.

loves anime, his favourite is attack on titan and his favourite character is Armin because he looks like Bernard and because he's really smart. (I shared this idea w my bae @moviecritc check out her post on DC men and anime)

did equestrian as a child and does it recreationally still

also did gymanstics

is an amazing swimmer, he has the physique for it as well but he hates wearing speedo's

his favourite barbie: life in the dreamhouse character is Raquel because she's the only one who had a personality

he watches Metal Family (youtube series, go watch it!!)

he has very neat handwriting

was a nickelodeon kid

was a beast at fortnite

he would be an insanely beautiful girl, he has very effeminate features.

D1 gossiper. All he does is shit-talk with Bruce about high-society couples

an absolute demon at chess.

"she gon call me babyboo" is constantly replaying in this mf's head

was unwillingly super popular in highschool. everyone liked him.

there's a lot of photos of him on pinterest, but it's like pics of his abs, or outfit or biceps, never his face.

very pale skin, must slather himself in sunscreen or will ROAST outside.

def loves Stranger Things

constantly is touching his hair

wears either CR7 cologne or some Tom Ford one he stole from Bruce

genuinely enjoys Mean Girls

watches fan edits and reads fanfiction of himself because he's a narcissistic bum </3

A/N: I had to do this, it was calling my name guys. Also haven't uploaded or written headcanons in sooo long </3

[darlingdollkiss]

omfg this is so perfect i love him

[pluvoia]

jason's hands travel the expanse of your skin, sturdy and almost scorching, in a desperate attempt to commit the way your body feels underneath his palms to memory. there's not a beauty mark left unseen, nor a scar left unkissed as he presses his lips to your frame, so delicate, so weary; as if you're something of an indescribable worth to him he can't bare even the thought to harm.

a low, simmering heat buzzes within his veins, the pliable fat of your cheeks so utterly soft it almost hurts--! it prods at something innate and undeniable at his gut; it whispers incessantly in his ear and sparks underneath his fingertips as he traces your brow bone.

the only other thing so demanding of the man has been pain; something only time has taught him to become ignorant of, something so jarring and unwavering there seems to be no match--

except you. which is impossibly foreign and terrible thing, jason thinks at first, because how could his lover, his entire universe-- be akin to the agony that flashes ceremoniously through his figure?

he knows the exact grit of concrete meeting your cheekbone. he understands the grim nature of bones twisting in ways they shouldn't, of joints creaking unsteadily and the way pierced flesh screams angrily as it weeps maroon.

jason todd knows pain like its his second language-- and has learned, by now, how to ignore the uproar of protests his body yelps along with it. pain has taught jason that, in an odd sense, he is still alive. it has taught him that there suddenly is something worth coming home to, and that persevering through blows and punches will reward him tenfold. pain has become an unusual comfort to jason; and suddenly his adoration to you-- mind, body and soul-- and this terribly addictive infliction upon his frame makes sense.

the absolute and irrefutable sensation that rattles his bones by caressing your scalp, or holding your waist so tightly in his hands is the same adrenaline that surges through him when someone tries to fight him.

it brings the same sort of crooked grin to his face, one cheek dimpling and ever so slightly stained canines flashing; except-- and this is something that still confuses him-- there's no immediate sting or flash that comes with someone attacking.

there's only you. melting into his touch, your own smile blooming softly across your face because look at your boy. so gentle, so careful, so in love it looks like it hurts.

but little do you know it does hurt. jason's heart clenches and twists when your bodies part, his hands tingling a cruel sort of cold at the absence of you. his irritability becomes rampant whenever he's not with you, leading to migraines he can't seem to shake, and they hurt so bad-- he just wants to be with his baby again.

this, however, is a kind of pain that jason welcomes; unabashedly, and with open arms-- because he believes its a certain sort of pain that sprouts from worship. a distinct sensation built from love.

love.

jason loves you so much it hurts. but he can't say it-- the words get caught in his throat, meshing messily upon his tongue, scratching and getting cut on his teeth before they can even come out. those three words bring the worry that comes with pain that jason has tried so hard to ignore, the one he thinks he's mastered-- until gotham is awfully cold and biting, until his body sobs and aches for him because he has no tears left to cry.

until he's scared he's going to die.

because saying he loves you is so incredibly permanent-- and that isn't to say that jason's love isn't undying-- but to put a name, to form the words and say them, spit them out-- is petrifying. the thought: what if i don't make it home? replaying after every abandoned attempt at professing his love verbally for you.

jason can't say he loves you, and he truly wishes he could. but when you're known for ruining a good thing (just as he had done his family), jason doesn't dare take the chance.

so jason opts to touch you like you're extraordinary, his fingers whispering soft affirmations along your jaw, his big hands saying more than he ever could as he rubs them into your back. he wills your body to his memory so his unwavering commitment to you comes to him as he stares at his hands-- who have done so much irreparable damage, they might as well be permanently stained-- and longs for you. so his repenting for his sins isn't for nothing; the ghostly feeling of your body encasing jason's, intertwining beneath the sheets of your bed, moves to the forefront of his mind.

jason touches you wholly every time he's given the chance-- because he's unsure and so unbelievably scared that every time will be his last.

and what type of man, he thinks, is jason if he goes down without having told his soulmate he doesn't love them entirely?

jason welcomes pain, in whatever form it's bestowed upon him in-- for it all gives some sort of meaning to his life. they write words, sentences, paragraphs to his actions; act like reminders, allusions, metaphors, to the type of man jason todd is.

the type inflicted unknowingly by you, though? is the pain that brings jason todd life; the type that ties his story together in a silk bow, the type that acts as the pages, cover to cover-- and the dedications. the pain that keeps his lungs filling with air every morning, the pain that has him, grown and large and entirely too giddy in awaiting your return home as the sun sets.

the pain of jason todd loving you so much, it is agonizing.

and somehow, despite all of this, is truly not painful at all.

© PLUVOiA 2026. main m.list | tag list

loren's thots: omg u guys i havent put author's notes at the end of my works in a long time #throwback. but!! i hope u enjoyed this little drabble thing? im sorry its not that long and also that its not porn siiigh im sorry :// but i was just in a very jason-y mood so why not. and also, THANK YOU FOR 3K that is insane. i love u all mwah mwah

loren's tags --

@i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @stilestotherescue @skyy-baby @iambigyes08 @batslvrr @erjgw @unseenzombieprototype @splodencible @solflor33 @starcrushed179 @malewifefckr @xoxojpeg @sophsthebest @wichu127 @only-dot-nicky @cowpokemythology @viovya @nishiology @ure-a-sunflower @lordbugs

[perleaore]

18+   bruce wayne’s a beggar for pussy  ᡣ𐭩 

Bruce's flushed face presses against the soft curve of your bare thighs, his breath hot and ragged as he kneels before you in the dim glow of your bedroom. Desperation drips from his voice like sweat down his tense back. "Please, sweetheart, just let me," he pleads, his tone laced with raw need. His cheeks burn a deep red against your pale skin, and those pathetic whimpers of frustration fill the air.

"Please— I'll be so good for you."

If the shadows of Gotham could see their billionaire golden boy brought so low, grovelling on his knees for a single taste of his wife's sopping cunt, he’d practically lose all credibility. Bruce Wayne, the man who commands boardrooms with a sharp glance and hosts galas flowing with champagne and donations, the playboy who’d cycle through supermodels like disposable accessories, is begging you to let him stuff his face in your pussy.

Your thighs part wide, your skirt crumpled up at your waist. It’s inviting, taunting. The sight of your slick, throbbing clit glistening under the low light draws a broken groan from deep in his chest. He's so fucking needy, so utterly wrecked already, with his bulge already aching in his slacks.

He aches to drag his thick tongue along your center, to lap at you like a hungry kitten, to devour your cunt until he physically can’t anymore. As he begs, his hips twitch forward involuntarily, pressing his clothed cock against your calf in desperate little humps, the friction making him whine louder. "Darling, please, please. Just a taste. I promise, I'll be good. I'll be so good to you."

But his words tumble into the void—you ignore him, sliding your skirt back down with deliberate slowness, hiding that sweet, aching heat from his starved gaze. 

"Will you make it home on time next patrol?" you ask with a coy smile.

Bruce, who never bends for anyone, cracks under your control. "Yes, yes, fuck—sorry, sweetheart. I promise I won't stay out late again. Just, please."

You exhale softly, stroking his dark hair like he's a pet before rising to your feet. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

And so Bruce Wayne spends the night at your feet, humping your leg like a dog in heat, his pride shattered as he waits for the mercy only you can grant.

[darlingdollkiss]

tipsy clark kent x reader.

in which you are unusually drunk, so your friends call your beautiful boyfriend clark to come and pick you up.

tags: pure fluff. reader is drunk. established relationship.

it’s not even your thing.

that’s what makes it worse.

you’re not the girl who loses control at parties. you’re the one holding everyone’s hair back. the one checking uber prices. the one making sure nobody drunk-texts their ex.

you’re composed. polished. reliable.

you don’t do tequila shots off a sticky kitchen counter while your best friend chants your name like you’re about to enter a wrestling ring.

and yet.

here you are.

giggling at absolutely nothing, sat on the edge of someone’s coffee table, blinking a little too slowly at the world.

“okay,” your friend whispers, crouched in front of you. “we’re calling clark.”

you gasp like she’s just suggested treason.

“noooo,” you say, dragging the word out dramatically. “he’s going to be… disappointed in me.”

she gives you a look.

“he’s literally in love with you. he’s not disappointed. he’s concerned.”

you squint at her. concerned feels worse.

but he’s there in ten minutes anyway.

of course he is.

the door opens and suddenly he fills the doorway — tall, broad-shouldered, glasses slightly crooked like he put them on in a hurry.

clark looks around once, assessing. then his eyes land on you.

and his entire face softens.

you light up like he’s the sun.

“claaark,” you beam, wobbling to your feet immediately.

you do not stick the landing.

he’s across the room in a second, hands on your waist before gravity can even think about embarrassing you.

“hey,” he murmurs gently, steadying you. his voice is low and warm and unfairly calming. “easy.”

you stare up at him like he’s the eighth wonder of the world.

“you’re so big,” you whisper, awe-struck.

your friend snorts.

clark coughs lightly, ears turning pink. “okay. alright.”

he thanks your friends. apologises for the trouble (even though it’s not trouble). drapes your coat around your shoulders with careful hands.

you try to help. you really do.

you lift one arm into the sleeve and then forget what you’re doing halfway through.

he does the rest.

his hand never leaves your back.

the car ride home is quiet except for you.

you’re sat in the passenger seat, staring at him like you’ve just discovered something life-changing.

“you’re really handsome,” you announce.

he glances at you, amused. “that so?”

“mhmm.” you nod seriously. then squint. “have you always been this handsome?”

he bites back a smile. “I hope so.”

you lean your head against the window. “I’m going to marry you.”

he nearly misses a red light.

getting you upstairs is an event.

you insist you can walk on your own.

you cannot.

he keeps one arm around your waist anyway, pretending it’s casual. pretending he doesn’t know exactly how to balance your weight.

when you reach your door, you fumble with your keys for a solid thirty seconds before dramatically handing them to him.

“superman could open this faster,” you mutter.

he freezes.

then clears his throat. “probably.”

“oh shit. you are superman. sorry, i forgot.”

inside, you kick your heels off immediately.

one hits the wall.

“sorry!” you gasp, horrified.

“it’s okay,” he laughs softly, picking them up and setting them neatly by the door.

he guides you to the sofa first, crouching in front of you.

“how much did you have?”

you hold up four fingers.

pause.

then slowly add two more.

“…maybe.”

he exhales through his nose, smiling despite himself.

“water,” he says gently. “stay here.”

you salute him.

“yes, sir.”

when he comes back with a glass, you’re trying very hard to take your earrings out and failing miserably.

he kneels again.

“may I?” he asks quietly.

you nod, suddenly soft.

his fingers are so careful. warm against your skin. he unclasps the first one like it’s made of glass. then the second.

he sets them on the coffee table like they’re priceless.

like you are.

you sip your water obediently.

then your lip trembles.

he notices immediately.

“hey,” he says softly. “what’s wrong?”

your eyes well up out of nowhere.

“you’re just so nice,” you sniff. “and I threw up in lila’s sink.”

he blinks.

“…okay.”

“what if you think I’m gross?”

he looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“I don’t,” he says simply.

you stare at him, searching for any hint of a lie.

there isn’t one.

he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“everyone has a messy night sometimes,” he continues gently. “it doesn’t change who you are.”

you hiccup.

“who am I?”

his mouth twitches.

“you’re the girl who makes everyone feel safe,” he says. “including me.”

that does it.

you start crying properly now.

he panics for half a second before pulling you into his chest.

and he just holds you.

one big hand rubbing slow circles over your back. his chin resting lightly on your head.

“okay,” he murmurs. “we’re having big feelings.”

“you smell nice,” you mumble into his shirt.

“thank you.”

“like laundry and… corn.”

he laughs — a real one.

“I’ll take it.”

eventually, he gets you to bed.

he kneels to take your makeup off with one of your little cotton pads. so gentle it almost makes you emotional again.

he hands you another glass of water for your nightstand.

places painkillers beside it for the morning.

pulls the duvet up to your chin.

you grab his wrist before he can move away.

“stay.”

he hesitates only because he doesn’t want to crowd you.

but then you tug again.

so he sits on the edge of the bed.

your fingers curl into his sleeve.

“you’re not disappointed?” you ask sleepily.

he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars.

“never,” he says.

your eyes drift closed.

“good,” you murmur. “because I love you. even when you look like a farm boy.”

he huffs a quiet laugh.

“I love you too,” he replies, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead.

you’re asleep before he pulls back.

he stays a little longer anyway.

just watching.

just making sure you’re breathing evenly.

just in case you need him.

ps: i wrote this on my notes before i made this account so it’s kind of ass. idk if that’s just because reading my own stuff makes me cringe.

[darlingdollkiss]

hiii could you write a needyyyyy jason todd dry humping fic pleek🤲🏼🤲🏼 you write so well

needy jason todd x reader

in which jason loves you so much, and is so needy for you, he cums while dry humping.

tags: insane levels of smut. anon you are an angel, thank you for asking. i needed to write more smut i’ve been writing too much angst smh.

it started off tame. jason had just come home from patrol, he kissed you at the door as usual. but you deepened it. and that’s what flicked the switch.

and now you’re here, lay back on the bed as his lips assault your neck, and his hips grind against you over and over again.

you’re both still fully clothed, but the groans in your ear are so pornographic, anyone would believe you’re fully having sex.

“i love you so much baby. thank you so much for this,” he pants into your ear, hips still rutting against your clothed pussy. “needed you so bad. need you all the time.”

he’s so hard, you can feel him through his pants and through yours. but he’s too far gone to take any of his clothes off now, so he keeps on relentlessly jumping you.

he speeds up his pace, his words now stringing together, his voice desperate and needy. all you can do is moan beneath him. “god i love this, i love you, you’re so perfect. i wanted this all day. thought about it all of my patrol.”

you have never felt bliss like this before. your boyfriend humping you as hard as he can while he mumbles praise into your neck. he really is the most perfect and precious man ever.

and he’s currently very close to cumming. you know because his words are now more mumbled and slow, and his lips have stopped moving against your neck. his head is now tucked deep between your shoulder and neck.

“god i’m so close, i’m gonna cum baby.” and he does come, with a groan of your name.

he presses himself hard against you as he cums all over his boxers. your arms wrap around his neck tightly, pulling him ever closer.

“thank you, baby, i love you.”

[darlingdollkiss]

revolving door jason todd x reader.

in which you and jason are constantly trying to quit eachother, but one of you always comes back, no matter how much it hurts.

tags: super angsty, on and off relationship, fem reader, i would recommend listening to revolving door by tate mcrae while you read, mentions of sex but no real smut.

the only way you could describe the relationship between you and jason todd is a revolving door.

you’ve been on and off for over a year.

it started off as a real relationship, but you take someone as freshly broken as jason, and try to make him understand that he’s allowed to love is tricky.

and it’s not even that he didn’t show any affection, he did that. more than enough. there were times where you would just be cuddling against him in bed late at night, and he would be crying softly, finally having found comfort.

but all good things must come to an end.

sometimes he would drift. not on purpose. just because sometimes he had so much love, he didn’t know how to give that all to you.

in all honesty, neither of you were ever ready for a relationship.

but you can say that you couldn’t want him less as many times as you like. you and he both know you just want him more.

and that’s why it’s a revolving door.

one call and you’re across the city on his couch.

one call and he’s at your door.

you wish you could say that it’s just sex too. that you’re only still in such frequent contact with him because he fucks you good. but again, you both know it’s more than physical.

he’ll call you late at night even if he just needs someone to talk to.

he’s a bad habit. but he’s you’re favourite bad habit.

your phone is currently ringing. you don’t need to check the name, you know it’s him. who else would be calling at 3:12am?

“oh, hey, i just… i just wanted to talk.” his voice is gruff but it’s clear he’s trying to make it softer for you. he wants to make an effort, even if there not really any point.

“sure, we can talk.” this is already a bad idea. you’ve worked so hard recently. worked so hard on yourself, on your mind and wellbeing. and now he’s here.

you aren’t mad though. you could never be mad at jason.

he laughs a little before he speaks again. “i found a cat in the alley by my apartment, looking after him now.”

“that’s sweet, is it hurt?”

“i don’t think so, i’m just checking.”

he’s always been like this. overly caring about everything around him. focused on the underdogs, the quiet creatures that don’t fit in. much like himself.

he’s still talking gently over the phone, a half assed attempt at small talk, trying to keep you engaged.

“jason i know this isn’t about the cat. and that’s okay, but you have to move on.”

you can practically hear his face drop over the phone. he stays silent, so you continue.

“i’m not trying to hurt you, but you’re constantly hurting me. we both know this isn’t healthy. you deserve stability, and so do i. and what we have going on at the moment.” you pause, then sigh. “it’s not stability.”

“but it’s not stable because you’re not willing to work it out.”

“i’m not willing to work it out? jason… this is exhausting. i change my mind so much. constantly coming back and then leaving and then coming back again.”

you knew this wouldn’t work. you know he’d have an argument back.

“well then why don’t we try again? take it seriously this time.”

“no, jason. i’m sorry. i love you, and i care about you so much, more than i probably should, but this isn’t going to work anymore. we both know it.”

he sighs again, and you can hear a distant meow of the cat over the phone.

“but i need you. you know what i’m like without you. i’m reckless, restless, lonely. i’m angry all the time when i’m not with you.”

he just made this so much more difficult. guilt floods your brain completely.

“i know, i know that. but sooner rather than later, you’re going to have to learn to deal with that. because i can’t keep dealing with this.”

he stays silent again.

“my life is worse, but good with you in it. i won’t deny that, but jason, for both of us, just let me go.”

every word you say feels wrong in your mouth. especially when he’s not responding at all. the guilt only grows.

“i’m sorry jason, i really do love you, but i need a minute.”

you hang up.

your phone sits on your kitchen counter as you cry into your hands, shoulders shaking.