I'm Not An Artist But Sometimes I Draw???

Could I request mermaid dick and princess Kory

YES, yes you can!

And they all lived happily ever after...♡

until Bruce tried to ruin everything

...he just misses his son 🥲

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Batfamily thoughts: the batkids realizing the problem isnt that Bruce doesn't love them, it's that he loves them too much and he can be an over protective bat creator at times. He's the dragon that hisses at anyone that gets to close to his babies! And that gets worse and worse everytime he can't always protect them. His love language is being overprotective and being paranoid.

this has always been Bruce's biggest problem 😭

It's not that he doesn't love them, its that he loves too much.

Bruce's whole thing is that he's the best detective, he sees all, he knows all, he feels all.

Its not that he doesn't feel, that he doesn't empathize or understand, its that he feels too much. All of it, all at once. And he can't stop. And its breaking him. Because he knows how much it hurts them. Because it hurts him.

anyway characters who feel too much, feel everything mean so much to me (bc i relate) and Bruce in particular bc hes so misunderstood for it too, yeah :)

cutie patooties

We’re so back!!

Can you do a request for Kitana x Faerie Reader?

When Kitana meets a very tiny Faerie from the Hanging Garden of Outworld. That the Faerie is come from the woods

WONDROUS

kitana x faerie! reader | sfw

CW! gn reader, kitana being cute, fluffy, ambiguous ending, mild angst, referenced purging of said faerie race

Summary! It was a known fact that faeries were extinct in Outworld, but as luck would have it Kitana has seemed to find one alive

thank you for the request!

Kitana’s eyes were wide when she saw the sight of a tiny little thing with wings. Glitter like in the color of gold surrounding them.

A faerie right in front of her.

Wonder filled her eyes. That same child like wonder a younger Edenian would have. Stories that Sindel, her mother would tell her. The stories of creatures in Outworld called Faeries.

Long ago they ruled the Living Forest once. Guarding it, but it merchants wanted a piece. They were powerful despite the small size.

They were captured like butterflies, like in Earth Realm, and harvested for their wings. A pretty penny was sought after if you came with a faerie, and an even bigger amount of money would be given if it was a live one.

It was only until that Lord Liu Kang and her father got a stop to the purging. Unfortunately it was too late as it looked the last of the Faeries were slaughtered.

It was story that always brought tears to Kitana and her sister, Mileena. Always questioning why such cruelty was brought to such a beautiful and powerful race. A race that only wanted peace and to live.

Sindel didn’t know why, and only saying that Outworld was a cruel world before her husband and Liu Kang changed everything.

And now Kitana was looking at Faerie right in front of her after thinking the entire race was wiped out.

It was before long she realized that you were staring right at her. Tilting your tiny head in curiosity.

“Hello?” Kitana mumbled out cautiously. Everyone of every race took part in the carnage, and no doubt she didn’t want to scare you away.

It was always her dream to one day meet one, and believed it would never happen. It was her chance. Fulfill her childhood wonder because a Faerie was right in front of her.

Only a bell sound came from you.

She remembered that faeries sounded like bells to all Outworlders. "I'm Kitana. Princess of Outworld." She bowed to you. She pulled down her mask to reveal her lips to you.

You; came down from your porch. A hanging flower from the garden in the palace. Never did Kitana expect to find a faerie alive, and no less in her garden.

A bell came from you.

Holding out a finger you stepped and sat on it. Kitana's face came close and found a smile on your face. One hopeful and bright.

Hope that she was a kind person who wouldn't kill you for a penny.

"Sister! Where are you!?" Mileena's voice called out from somewhere else in the garden.

You jumped at the sound of her sister. Hiding in Kitana's hair with a shaken body. Slowly Kitana lifted her finger and petted your tiny head.

Soft hair and soft flowers touching the palm of her index finger. "It's okay, my friend. Just my sister, beloved empress."

Your face expressed something different. "I promise." A gentle smile was sent your way from the princess.

Your brows raised and a soft smile crossed your lips. You spoke and a bell followed. Cheerful and not at all doubtful.

A wonderful beginning to a wonderful friendship.

Perhaps there were more faeries living like you. Maybe then the world would be able to meet a race that was deemed extinct.

Kitana giggled as you nuzzled into your cheeks for comfort as Mileena's call for Kitana got louder.

Kitana felt good about the greatness of Outworld this day.

❝DOCTOR I CAN’T TELL IF I’M NOT ME.❞

-   ͙۪۪̥˚┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 

There is only one thing you ever truly wished for in this life: a purpose.

Something that would justify your existence, that would give meaning to every breath, every wound, every sleepless night.

And you found it. Not in an empty promise or in the affection of others. You found it in your own power.

A selfish desire, yes, but undeniably yours. A purpose born not out of love, but out of need.

From that strange power growing inside you, the one that forced you to look at others’ suffering with cold, almost cynical eyes. As if every wound were a problem only you could solve. As if every scream of pain were a prayer meant solely for you.

You clung to that.

To the idea that your worth existed only in your abilities.

The ability to stop someone from dying in front of you. To rip death from their body with your own hands. To stitch broken flesh with threads that hurt, yes, but worked. That was the only thing that ever made you feel alive. The only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed.

For a while, it was enough.

For a long while, you were selfish.

It didn’t matter if they used you. It didn’t matter if it hurt. If every healing left another scar on you. If every salvation cost you a little more of the little you had left.

As long as you could keep doing it—healing, fixing, protecting— the price didn’t matter.

Because at the end of the day, you could lie down on that mattress of emptiness and tell yourself: “Today, I made it worth it.”

Your existence and your power meant something.

Of course, you didn’t have a mother to share secrets with, nor guardians who offered you love. Only faces that came and went, and the bitter understanding that you were just another burden in a broken system.

Until, by some twisted stroke of fate, you had the “pleasure” of meeting your biological father.

Bruce Wayne.

Billionaire. Philanthropist. Playboy.

Batman.

Even so, none of that really mattered to you. What truly hit you was learning that you had to leave everything behind and go to Gotham.

That cursed city, that concrete jungle drowned in darkness and crime. Where dreams go to die and bodies, if they’re lucky, go to sleep.

Gotham wasn’t a home. It was a prison for someone like you. A place where meta-humans like you were enemies, threats, problems to be contained.

Your power, your only purpose, was stripped away with nothing more than a change of zip code.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

Not being able to use it.

Not being able to save.

Not being able to be useful.

Your existence, reduced to ashes, like the bodies of those you didn’t reach in time.

It must be poetic, right? The healer who cannot heal. The savior without faith.

They hate you. You've felt it. That visceral resentment from those who survived because of you, but still blame you for what you couldn’t stop. Screams, stares, choked pleas— all of them pierced your soul deeper than any weapon ever could.

For someone who once swore to save lives, it’s only natural that those you vowed and wanted to save now express their utter disgust and despair toward the false, horrific salvation you once offered them.

And now? Now you live among strangers.

An immense mansion full of absences. With brothers who seemingly don’t recognize you, and a father who doesn’t see you.

Your arrival in Gotham wasn’t exactly ideal, at least, that’s how you think you remember it.

It’s hard for you to remember that moment. You don’t hold on to unnecessary memories… none of it will make you feel alive again.

Apparently, your new father figure has several children. Some of them are already adults. With lives of their own far from the mansion, you don’t know much about them, they were almost always too busy to say anything to you.

You can’t understand them, can’t they come up with better excuses? You don’t want these people’s attention.

These people can’t help you with your abilities. They can’t make you believe you’re still allowed to use them freely.

No, these people are just strangers who stumbled into your life overnight and want nothing to do with the problem. Not even your new father had the decency or responsibility to try forming a bond with you.

Bruce Wayne was an absent father. Not in the way someone leaves and disappears completely, but in the kind of absence that feels stronger the closer the person is. A hollow physical presence, like a ghost made of flesh and bone. One who could look you in the eyes and still not see you.

He struggled to communicate, to make time for you, to even remember that there was now one more occupied room in that massive mansion of his.

He doesn’t know how to deal with you, and you don’t know how to deal with him either. At first, you wondered if the problem was you. If you had done something wrong. If the way you talked, walked—even breathed, was so bothersome that he’d rather bury himself in work than give you an hour of his time.

But soon, you realized something even crueler: You don’t need a father. You’re not looking for one. You’re not waiting for one.

What you need is a patient. Someone you can heal. Someone who needs you.

Because that’s what you’ve always done. Heal. And Bruce… Bruce simply refuses to be healed.

But he doesn’t understand.

When you approach him, when you seek him out, when you try to speak to him, all he does is throw up a wall made of cold words, as practical and impersonal as that damn business suit of his.

“I’m busy.”

“Not now.”

“We’ll talk later.”

“It’s for work.”

Always the same. Always excuses with the bitter taste of indifference.

Is this what having a father is supposed to feel like? Because if it is, then it doesn’t feel any different from your days in foster care.

At least there, you knew you were alone. Here, they make you believe you’re not… but you are, more than ever.

You’ve learned to observe the details, as always. It’s one of the few things you’re good at, aside from using your power.

You notice the tired look in his eyes, the dark circles underneath, the way his fingers tense around his pen like he’s trying to crush it. The stack of papers on his desk never gets smaller, it’s like it multiplies just to keep you at a distance.

And the subtle changes… that lower tone in his voice when he sees you, like he can’t even be bothered to raise it for you. The way his eyebrows furrow, not out of anger, just… annoyance. Irritation.

That’s what hurt the most.

So you stopped trying. Because if you kept going, you were only going to be reprimanded by the one you were supposed to please. You convinced yourself that you don’t need his approval. That you don’t need his love. That you’re better off without him.

But then, why is it that every time you walk past his office, you pause for a second, hoping that door opens, just once, without you knocking first?

Why do you still need him to see you?

Richard Grayson is the eldest. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Everyone sees him as a beacon of hope, the moral compass of this family made of shadows and scars. And it makes sense. He has that bright smile, that genuine warmth the others can barely fake. He gives out hugs without being asked, listens patiently, laughs easily, and has that absurd gift of making anyone feel seen, at least, if you’re one of his.

Because with you, it was always different.

From the beginning, Richard seemed kind. Seemed. But between that warmth and you, there was always a distance, like someone had drawn a curtain between the two of you. You heard his apologies more than you heard his actual voice.

“Sorry, I have to head out right now.”

“Sorry, I was already on my way to Blüdhaven.”

“Next time, I promise.”

He was always rushing. Always busy. Always somewhere else. And you… you’re not someone who believes in empty promises.

At first, you thought it was just bad luck. That maybe if you insisted a little, if you found an excuse, if you caught him in the kitchen, he might stay for five minutes. Just five. But those minutes never came. And you started to notice a pattern. How his demeanor shifted the moment you walked into the room. How his smile became more diplomatic. More rehearsed. How his footsteps sped up when he thought you weren’t watching.

You didn’t want to admit it at first, but something inside you began to whisper an uncomfortable truth; He was avoiding you.

And then you understood. If Richard Grayson, the kindest, the most human, the most "big brother" of them all, couldn’t be around you, then what was the point of trying with the others? What could you possibly expect from Jason, who barely speaks to you? From Tim, who seems more invested in his computer than in actual people? From Damian, who can barely tolerate his own shadow?

So you did the same. You avoided them. One by one. You decided it wasn’t worth it. That if you weren’t going to be a real part of this family, you weren’t going to pretend.

It’s easier that way. It doesn’t hurt as much if you’re the one walking away first.

But sometimes, when you see them laughing together from the staircase, or hear Richard speaking so fondly of the others, a part of you wonders if it was ever really your choice to walk away, or if they’d been leaving you behind from the very beginning.

Your suspicions didn’t take long to confirm. All it took was talking to a few of your supposed brothers to realize the pattern repeated itself.

Jason, Tim, Damian…

Each one was a story unto themselves. Each one was a maze of traumas, masks, and poorly calibrated emotional responses. But if you had to describe them in one word, it would be: inaccessible.

The second of your brothers was Jason, and from what little you could gather, because no one seemed eager to talk about it much, Jason had died. And then he came back. It wasn’t a metaphor. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He had been buried, and now he was not. That simple statement was enough to provoke a morbid curiosity, almost scientific. What had changed in his body? Did he suffer from partial necrosis? Brain damage? Did his muscles regenerate? What residual effects did resurrection have on human physiology? Everything in you screamed to investigate. To dissect. To understand.

It was a dangerous thought. You knew that. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra: too tempting for your own good.

But what confused you the most wasn’t his condition, it was his behavior toward you. Jason had this aura of latent violence, like dynamite that could explode with the wrong spark. But that wasn’t what kept you away. Not entirely. It was his inexplicable rejection.

You didn’t understand it. You didn’t provoke him. You didn’t talk to him, you didn’t interfere, you didn’t cross the line. And yet, his gaze was always sharp. As if your mere presence triggered something in him. Irritation. Annoyance. Maybe even disdain.

You wondered if it was your fault. If the way you were, the way you spoke, the way you were, simply bothered him. But you couldn’t find an answer. And though you wanted to, you knew that getting closer would be too risky.

Because you’ve seen the broken walls. The misaligned doors. The tables split in two like they were made of paper. You’ve felt the tension in the air when Jason enters a room and isn’t in the mood. And you know, without needing confirmation, that his punches aren’t soft. That his rage doesn’t distinguish between the guilty and the witnesses.

So, you avoid him.

Not out of fear exactly, but out of caution. Self-preservation. You don’t want to be the next crack in the walls of this house.

Tim was a different kind of strange. More than Jason, though in a completely different way. His oddity didn’t stem from aggression or visible trauma. It was more subtle. More internal.

Almost clinical.

You observed him, like you observe everything. With that gaze of yours that searches for patterns, inconsistencies, vulnerabilities. And in him, you found many.

Surprisingly, Tim was brilliant. Not just "smart for his age," but one of those cases where the brain moves faster than the body. Too fast. So much so, that sometimes it seemed like his body gave up halfway through.

The dark circles under his eyes were a constant. His responses were slow, as if they had to pass through a filter of a thousand thoughts before being verbalized. He walked like his mind was too heavy for his spine to carry. A shadow carrying ideas. You were surprised he hadn’t fainted yet from the combination of insomnia, chronic stress, and mild malnutrition.

No one asked you.

No one thanked you.

But still, you started leaving him food. Food that could sustain him without causing a stomach collapse. Nothing too obvious, of course. A yogurt here. Cut fruits there.

Something easy to eat between keystrokes. You allied yourself with Alfred in that small act of silent intervention. The old butler seemed to notice, but he never mentioned it. And you never confirmed it.

Tim would probably assume it was all Alfred’s doing. In fact, you counted on it.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret. But because you knew that if he suspected you were behind something so... "thoughtful," it would only make him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to respond to care, to the intention behind such detail. Tim doesn’t know how to handle it if that sincere gesture comes from you.

Just like you would if any of them ever tried it with you.

Alfred... Alfred is a different matter.

Of all the people in the house, he’s the only one who acts like your existence isn’t a miscalculation. But he doesn’t fool himself. He doesn’t offer you love, or tenderness. He offers you structure. Routine. Measured phrases and cups of tea.

It’s not affection between you. It’s a sort of tacit alliance. Two functional people in the middle of a broken ecosystem.

You know he tries. But you also know it’s not enough for you.

You’ve seen children like you. In hospitals. In refugee camps. In temporary homes. Children who cling to an adult figure as if their life depended on it, and are then destroyed when that figure leaves. Or worse, when they stay but stop looking.

You don’t want that for yourself.

You convince yourself this is better. A working relationship. A dynamic where each one fulfills their role and no one crosses the line into the personal. Because if you get attached, if you let yourself believe this could mean something...

You know how that ends. They can’t give you what you’re looking for.

They can’t give you purpose.

They can’t return what was taken from you when you understood that your value only exists if you can heal, if you can serve, if you can be useful.

You still don’t know who you are when you’re none of that.

Back to the subject of your "family," the last on the list of who your siblings were, was Damian.

The youngest of the group. The second biological son of Bruce Wayne.

You said it out loud once, casually: "Ah, so he is the real one."

No one found it funny.

Unlike the others, Damian didn’t need time to show you that you weren’t welcome. He didn’t bother to fake courtesy or neutrality. From the beginning, he made it clear that your existence was expendable.

Maybe it was your silence. Maybe it was your lack of reaction to his provocations. Maybe he just didn’t like you. But he pointed his katana at you the first month you arrived.

The blade against your neck wasn’t a metaphor. It was real, cold, intimidating contact. You felt a thread of power activate instinctively in your body, a reflex of defense, of desperation. If you had let it go, well, you wouldn’t be here, mentally recalling this account.

You didn’t. Not for him. For you.

Because it wasn’t worth it. Because using your power on someone in your “family” would mean admitting they were important enough to hurt you.

They weren’t. Not yet.

You can’t risk being discovered. No one can know that you actually have this power. None of them can know.

Bruce appeared just in time to prevent the confrontation from escalating. Did he protect you? Not exactly. He simply said something like, “Damian has a complicated history,” as if that justified a death threat in the family kitchen.

Is it common in Gotham to justify a child’s homicidal impulses if they've had a difficult childhood?

That was your question. You didn’t ask it out loud. No one would have liked the answer.

It was also that day you found out that Damian was Bruce’s biological son. And you couldn’t help but think about the irony of it all.

The same Bruce Wayne who, in the public eye, was a scandalous figure, a charming, charismatic playboy billionaire with endless parties, had exactly one biological child. One. Not five. Not a legion of illegitimate children scattered across the world. Just one.

That kid turned out to be a ticking time bomb with a traditional sword.

Everything fit so perfectly wrong that it almost seemed planned.

With the girls, it's complicated. Maybe even more so because, deep down, a part of you thought they could be different.

Stephanie. She was like a female version of Richard, a constant smile, a vibrant energy that everyone seemed to adore, except you.

She greeted you with empty enthusiasm, one that never went beyond the surface. It was easy to see that behind her good mood, there was a locked door she wasn’t going to open for you.

And you understood. Because you'd seen it before.

People who act as if everyone is welcome, except you.

Stephanie was just another confirmation that no matter how hard you tried to fit in, this home was already full. You weren’t in the original plan. You never were.

Barbara, on the other hand, was simpler. She was hardly ever at the mansion. You’d see her sporadically, a red ghost in the shadows of fleeting visits. And still, in that limited time, she always found a way to smile at others, share a joke, a quick conversation, a knowing glance… Never with you.

Not once.

It was as if your presence went by unnoticed, not even worth including out of courtesy.

Cassandra was the most honest, in a way. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t smile. She didn’t speak.

She ignored your attempts to help with almost admirable efficiency. You could attribute it to her trauma, her history, her way of seeing the world… but that excuse starts to wear thin when it’s the only one left to justify everything.

Maybe you’re just not interesting. Maybe you don’t even stand out enough to be actively rejected.

Or is it because you don’t even deserve her attention?

It was easier to believe that they all had a reason not to see you.

Easier than admitting that maybe, you weren’t that hard to ignore.

What was dangerous about this family wasn’t the weapons, nor the katanas, nor the fists that had broken ribs more than once.

It was the mask.

It took you time to understand it. First, it was a hunch. Then a suspicion. Finally, a certainty: they were all vigilantes. Heroes of Gotham. The same ones who make your hands tremble when you try to use your power. The ones who make your gift feel useless. As if it were a mistake rather than a blessing.

The irony is so perfect it could almost make you laugh.

You can’t feel useful, can’t do the one thing you know how to do perfectly, because you’re surrounded by those who fight so that people and beings like you are neither necessary nor welcome.

And yet, you prefer them this way.

Cold. Distant. Detached. Unknown. Because connections are dangerous. Because memories weigh. Because at some point, someone taught you that affection is the hook that precedes the pain.

Because you know it better than anyone. When you get attached to someone, it’s not just pain that you feel when you lose them. It’s as if a part of you dies too. Not because you lose them, but because without your power, without that “usefulness,” you feel like you never deserved to have them in the first place.

In Gotham, you can’t do anything.

You can't heal.

You can't save.

You can't be useful.

You can't be loved. Or at least, that’s what they taught you to believe.

Here, you have no parts left that you can afford to lose. Not while you're trapped in this city that doesn’t need what you can give. A family that doesn't know what to do with you. You don’t know what to do with yourself either.

They can’t give you a purpose.

They never could.

They didn’t even try.

You expected so little, that not even that surprised you.

Until you found him.

The only living person who not only recognized your power, but accepted it for what you wanted it to be:

A miracle.

He called himself Doctor Masashi. A kind voice, a serene figure. But behind that calmness was surgical precision. He knew exactly how to shape you. How to rebuild you, only to destroy you again with elegance.

He was the only one who never lied to you about what you were:

A weapon.

A tool.

A precious jewel that only shines when it bleeds for others.

A perfect puppet.

And you, grateful for the strings.

He gave you direction when all you had was guilt.

He gave you structure when all you had was emptiness.

He gave you… meaning. A cruel meaning. A conditioned meaning. But still, you took it.

It can't be that bad, right?

Clinging to that.

Clinging to him.

Clinging to something that tells you that you can still be "something."

Because if someone, even just one person, can look at you and say that you are good for something, then you're not broken.

Then you're not alone. Then everything that hurt was worth it.

Even if guilt drowns you every night.

Even if the nightmares never rest.

Even if the hands you tried to save still drag you from their graves, begging for a second death.

It doesn't matter. As long as someone believes that keeping you alive makes sense... then that’s enough.

Right?

Maybe you're a weapon.

Maybe you're selfish.

Maybe you did it all just out of fear of disappearing, for that unbearable need to feel alive.

The need to feel that you matter. To have a place to fit in.

But at least you're something. In this shattered world, that's already more than many have.

But how much more can you take before you truly break? How much longer before you completely crumble, like so many times you did on the inside? How much will the price of his greed cost… and your desperate desire to remain useful?

Because in the end, it wasn't Bruce.

Nor your brothers.

Nor your sisters.

None of them ever knew who you were.

None of them understood.

Only him. Only Masashi.

That’s what scares you the most. Because if even he can make you believe that’s all you’re worth. If even he manages to make you cling to that idea, then maybe, you were never more than that.

Maybe you were never more than your power, and in Gotham, where you can no longer use it...

Not even that belongs to you.

🎀"THAT BOY IS A MONSTER!"🎀

ranpo edogawa x reader | nsfw

cw! female reader, vampire ranpo, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, no prep, praise kink, degradation, semi-public, balcony sex, chubby reader, teasing

The cold breeze made you shiver when you entered the balcony. The man haunted behind you with those alluring green eyes of his. You're body practically weeped at the need of his touch.

A monster such as him was a beauty as he was terrifying. His black hair was soft, and had sharp green eyes that would only show when he was about to feed off of you.

You would always give yourself to this monster.

It was the only thing you had despite you're hatred for yourself. This monster, this man of beauty was more than you could ever be, and to please him was you're new duty.

You froze as his hand came under chin and holding it with such gentleness, yet firm. His green hues staring into yours with such intensity that it made you're legs almost buckle. His leg was now between your legs, and hand holding your hip so that you wouldn't fall.

"Those are some nasty thoughts you have. They aren't fitting for you."

You flushed warm at those words. You moaned at the his touch moving to your neck and pressing down on the fabric choker you wore. The black and gray stripped chocker with black lace was pushed onto which was where two small bites laid.

"To me you're more than just a snack for me. Your blood is as sweet as you. Only my dumb girl can satisfy me. Isn't that right, my darling?"

You whimpered feeling his hot breath on you're cold neck. His touch was cold as his hands wandered your entire body. You're black dress was tugged at and your skin was touched gently. His face remained in you're neck where his teeth tugged at the fabric choker.

You're dress pooled out on the sides of balcony. Vision focused on the window where other people who were human like you partied. You're family who was nothing but horrid to you partied like nothing was wrong.

You had come alone, and he was there. This monster who you had been acquainted with ever since they locked you out of the house as punishment. You would never forget his kindness despite you being only a meat bag to his kind.

"They don't deserve you my darling. You've served me more than they ever will. You're my dumb girl who fell for a monster, and yet you understood me more than anyone."

He was so sweet with his words, and yet the words dumb girl was so demeaning. You however found touched and woozy from such words. You loved being called that name in such a toxic sweet tone.

"Please please please. Ranpo...!"

His light laugh made you cling to him. The embarrassment of the situation made you so nervous. Anyone could come by and see you. How scandalous it would be for you're family.

"Let them see, darling. They've been nothing but mindless idiots. All of them, my dear."

You jumped feeling his cold hands pulling down the top of your dress. You heaved and the corset tight around you made you wheeze. Your love, Ranpo simply laughed scornfully. It was awfully scandalous on how sleeves and front of the dress were pulled down to reveal the under dress beneath. You're breasts being show pronounced thanks to the corset.

"These darn things are so stupid. You can't breathe can you, my dumb, dumb girl."

You nodded. Feeling you're stomach bubbled with butterflies at the slight degration. You held on tightly feeling his hands travel to the back of your dress and untying the ribbons.

"Ranpo! Other's will see!"

You pleaded but the monster practically on top of your body didn't care. He only chuckled as he continued to untie, but it was also clear was being quite impatient.

"I so wish to see you look so defeated, but don't want to ruin this dress of yours. How wonderful it fits you, but I think it'll look better without this contraption around you're torso, my stupid darling."

You whined at his blunt words. Never did he hold back what he thought. You knew you that he did it for your own good, because in his eyes. After all, has a higher being, and a great detective deceiving every human around him was bound to know better.

His nimble fingers pulled at the choker and to you're surprise ripped it off. You gasp before gasping loudly when pain erupts from the neck upward. You clawed at his black jacket desperately when feeling his teeth clamped down so tight, and sucking away you're sweet and delicious blood.

Ranpo was practically drunk from drinking your blood. He was so delighted to drink his favorite snack in the entire world. You, and all you're beauty. This woman he held in his arms was his perfect match. The perfect match to the greatest detective who happened to be a monster among humans.

He heard you wheeze and moan when he bit down further. He wanted to drink more and more. Ranpo's normally cold body felt warm when drinking blood from the body he held. Like a pervert, he was overjoyed to feel your breasts against his chest. Felt the dress and eventually ripped the ribbons of the corset to release the pressure.

You gasped when finally felt relief in your lungs. You're nails continued to scratch against the black fabric of Ranpo's jacket in an attempt to not lose yourself. Eyes still set on the doors to the ballroom, but your vision was hazy. Clouded by lust you wanted to cling on so that you could relish in Ranpo's words and touch.

The pressure in your neck was uplifted and soon your mouth was filled with your blood. You moaned into the kiss which allowed Ranpo to swirl each other's tongues together. You're eyes tried to keep themselves open but they closed either way. Ranpo had a grip on your chin, and uplifting it so that you were looking at him. Unlike you Ranpo had his alluring eyes open with lustful intent.

His other hand continued to undress you. You're breasts were welcomed to the breeze. You visibly shivered feeling even more cold than before. You tried to dig yourself further into Ranpo, but the coldness of his body provided you no warmth. The cloth of his jacket barely covered you're naked shoulders. It was absolutely pointless to avoid the cold breeze.

The black silky dress was lifted up after removing the corset from behind the dress. Ranpo simply laughed when he saw you're embarrassed face.

"Oh you silly girl. How are you supposed to please me when you're wearing something that deeply upsets me."

He almost felt bad when horror crossed you're face. He wiped away the blood off you're lips with a smile and narrowed eyes.

"Do not worry, sweetheart. Just let me take the lead and do what I want, and you won't disappoint me."

Your underwear was discarded and only remaining on one leg. Thick thighs and various stretch marks greeted him. The sight made Ranpo's mouth water. The plump body that was you was something he loved about you. No matter of you hated your body he loved it. Despite being a monster Ranpo wanted to show you were perfect the way you were.

Just as you did with him.

"Ranpo...?"

The vampire laughed at you're so called question. He backed up and unbuckled his pants. You're eyes watched as his cock was revealed to the cold air. He didn't shiver or freeze when feeling the breeze come in.

"Dessert is here, my love."

His hands grabbed your hips and you're already slicked up entrance was met with Ranpo's cock. It touched you're clit which caused a jolt in your poor body. You're hands were tight on his shoulders.

You gasped when feeling him turned you around and going against the railing of the balcony. The forest was met with your eyes, and you couldn't see the man that was the only light in your life.

The only sense of color you had in this black and white life.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll be my good girl won't you? Or will you be a dumb girl and not please me like you pledged you would?"

"I'll be good! I'll be you're good girl!"

"Very good, sweetheart."

The ribbons of your dress were pulled and tied without the corset to slim you down. You visibly frozen seeing your stomach's pudge showing through the dress. Suddenly then jolting when hands grabbed your stomach so lovingly.

"Do not worry about this. I'll make you forget all about this."

He gestured to your stomach, to your entire being. His hands left your stomach and back to preparing you.

"Tell me my dear, do you think you can take me without prep?"

"Yes! Yes I can take it!"

You were so desperate to please him. Ranpo could only kiss the back of your neck. You giggled at the ticklness at your neck.

His hand on your hip was firm yet gentle. You jolted when feeling the tip of his cock touching your cunt gently. His hand held push himself further into entrance that were your velvet red insides. Ranpo licked his lips looking at your ass and thighs beneath his gaze. You wiggled just a tiny bit from feeling his heavy gaze on you.

Finally he pushed in.

You hissed in pain feeling his giant cock entering you're cunt. It felt unbelievably tight due to no prep, but you were happy despite the pain. You simply wanted to please him, and he had asked you either way. He cared about your comfort even if it wasn't framed as such.

You yelped numerous times before covering your mouth with tears in the corner of your eyes. Ranpo chuckled from behind you. He had a knack for causing you tiny amounts of pain, but nothing too bad. You enjoyed the slapping on your behind.

"Good job, sweetheart. Now be a good girl and please me by allowing me to use your body."

"Yes please, Ranpo...!"

He started with small thrusts. You moaned and cried with pleasure and pain. You gripped the cold balcony tightly because of how tight and full you felt because of Ranpo's stupid cock. It was amazing how delicious his cock felt in your cunt, and how it made you lose your mind everytime.

The top of your dress began to fall the more rough the thrusts gotten. By this point your mind was almost gone, and the coldness of the railing brought you back to reality. The potential eyes of others haunted your mind. A yelp was released from your lips due to a slap on your behind.

"Naughty girl. Thinking of other people are we? That's not very good of you, my dear. I think we should stop-"

"No no! Please don't stop, Ranpo. I don't want anyone looking at me...I only want your eyes on me, so please don't stop!"

Ranpo froze with a shocked face, but he overcame it. A wicked smile painted itself on his lips. Something in him snapped and the thrusts he was giving were becoming even more rough and fast. You were moaning and crying for him. The ice cold railing was becoming part of you the more the breeze assaulted your hot body.

The rest of the top fell and your nips were revealed to the world. Knuckles lighter than the rest of your body due to how tight you were holding on. The fullness you felt in your stomach was so distracting and so overwhelming, and yet you loved it despite the pain. However, that pain too was going away as Ranpo continued his assault on your cunt.

You squeezed his cock when the cold railing came contact with your nipple. You moaned very loudly, but luckily due to the music from inside you were not heard. You could only thank god your family, and all nobles were party animals.

Ranpo's grip on your hips got even tighter, and slammed your hips against his own. His vampiric strength always amazed you, but his intelligence was something greater. This moment however was complete heaven, because the strength he possessed allowed you give him the pleasure he wanted.

Your back arched when Ranpo hit a particular spot. Eyes went to the back of your head due to how shocking it was. That stock of a neck was grabbed onto, and Ranpo digged into his most beloved snack. You moaned feeling the familiar pain you grew to love and lust after.

A feeling you sure no one in your miserable life could understand.

Desperate, you tried to meet his thrusts. It only caused you to moan and falter because Ranpo was getting faster. The more he drank the more energy he had. The more blood that left you the more weak you became.

You choked out his name when your vision suddenly became more hazy than before. Your nails clawed at the arms that held you neck. Ranpo got the memo and released his mouth from your fleshy neck.

His thrusts stopped and you fell to your knees. Ranpo picked you up and placed you onto the balcony. You were in a daze and not nothing how if you were careful that you would fall. Luckily, Ranpo gripped your hips and pulled you back onto his cock.

You moaned loudly finally feeling full once again. The vampire groaned from being around your tight cunt. He was in heaven as he began to thrust roughly and hard. He was greeted with your sweet and intoxicating sounds.

"So good. You're magnificently good, sweetheart. Doing such a good job, even for a dumb girl, huh?"

You moaned in response. You lunged and clung to him tightly. If just felt so good, and his degrading and praising words only furthered your pleasure and love for Ranpo. He was so mean and nice at the same time. He was a man of duality.

Your legs wrapped around his waists. Your heels both fell which let the cold breeze run past your toes. Clear slapping noises were loud in his and your ears. The blaring and muffled music from inside proved meaningless. The pleasure and happiness to felt was more than any sense of fear.

"Are-Are you ready for my cum? Do you want it? Where?"

"Inside! Inside! I want to feel you inside me even when you leave!"

It wasn't a secret this relatively was taboo and forbidden. Ranpo would leave due to vampiric duties as the second oldest of his colony and his job as a detective. You missed him everytime he left and leaving you in the hell that was your life.

"Oh my sweet and poor dummy. Of course, I'll grant you the wish you so desire so that I'll be with you forever. But do not worry when my seed is gone, because my mark on your neck will be there."

You sobbed at his words.

"In fact, when you fall asleep I come to see you. I bite your neck when your asleep too. I'm sure felt my teeth in you, didn't you?"

Normally you would be shocked, but you were still in a haze. You weren't shocked, but aroused by his reveal of drinking your blood at night. Ranpo would come to visit you and leave a message to let you know he was here.

Oh how you loved this monster of a man.

"Give it to me, Ranpo! Please!"

You held no shame. You were completely enthralled with the hard pounding Ranpo was giving you. No longer were you paying attention to inside of the ballroom. Nor were you focusing on the cold hitting your breasts, face, and cunt.

Ranpo grunted and groaned loudly. He silenced himself quickly by once again biting down on your neck. His jacket was gripped tightly. Your mouth was agaped with tears streaming tears on your face.

You felt more full when Ranpo's cum began to flood. You felt as if your stomach was buldging due to the amount Ranpo was letting out of his cock. Your cunt throbbed and twitched around his cock as you went limp. Blurry vision clouded you and your mind.

The teeth in your neck released your flesh. Ranpo licked his lips, and smiled so widely upon your fucked out face. Looking upon you was an absolute delight. The top of your dress and under dress allowed your bare breasts to be assault by the wind. Dress was hiked up and it was stretched a bit more due to your body not being slimmed down.

His cock remained inside you which kept his cum inside you. You still clung to him and catching your breath.

Ranpo perked up hearing someone open the balcony doors. The detective smiled mischievously as he covered you with the jacket he wore. The person across the way didn't seem to notice them. Thankfully they were in a part of the balcony that was mostly very dark.

Your whimpers altered him. Your eyes were wide and looking at the person across the way. He called out for you while holding your face. Ranpo's cock was still in you as he cradled your face so gently.

"Why don't you run away with me?"

Johnny Cage (top) x Kenshi Takahashi (bottom) smut. Maybe manhandling kink and rough smut followed by fluff/comfort (feel free to write whatever floats your boat).

🎀"LITTLE MOMENTS"🎀

johnny cage x kenshi takahashi | nsfw

cw! explicit sexual content, no plot/what plot, fluff and comfort, rough sex, biting, fluffy end, aftercare, top johhny cage, bottom kenshi takahashi, choking, attempt at dirty talk (I'm trying something new pls help), coming inside

thank you for the request! i had a lot fun with this since this type of smut is out of my expertise. It was fun experimenting!

Red marks were prevalent on the man's skin as he was turned by the hips. The cloth around his eyes moved slightly against its knot.

A light gasp came from Kenshi's lips as he pleaded for something to happen. The body in front of him was Johnny who had that stupid grin on his face.

"Johnny-"

The man came down sharply with a pinch to the blind man's thigh.

"Quiet."

Johnny lightly laughed as he entered once again into the other man.

Kenshi gasped which was followed with a noise. His tattooed hands clawed at the man's back as he was subjected to desperate and rough thrusts.

"Please-"

"Quiet!"

The blind man threw his head back as his sweet spot was hit hard and continuously by the assailant above him. The assault continued and Kenshi found himself trapped between the arms of Johnny. The weight pressured down and Kenshi groaned at the slight pain.

He felt the pressure ease up.

"God! Johnny!" A hand cupped over his mouth. He whined against the skin as he was assaulted even harder.

"Talk and I'll make it worse for you." A teasing tone from the actor followed that action. "How bout' some choking?" Kenshi groaned against his hand at that. Down below he throbbed and moved continuously as he was pushed down into the silk sheets.

"Got it Ken-Doll." The hand was removed and it went to the blind man's neck. Firm and tight. On instinct, Kenshi's hands clung to the wrist of the man above him. Kenshi opened his mouth for air, but nothing came in.

Once again he throbbed. Tried to make whines and whimpers but all that came was the strangled noises from being choked. "Feel good, Ken-Doll?" Johnny grinned darkly. The man below him simply tried to whine at his words and squeeze his neck.

The strangled words died and into bubbles. For some relief, Johnny removed his hand. The sweetness of air entering made the man in the sheets gasp. Gritting his teeth he hissed feeling his muscles contract.

A moan came from above. Kenshi lightly laughed, and a light slap was hit against his thigh. "Oh, you think that's funny?" A shiver ran up Kenshi's spine, and his filled crevice was suddenly empty. His whine did not stay long as a yelp was caused by the firm hands on his bare hips.

Like before Kenshi found himself on his hands and knees. His back was pushed by strong hands that were too calloused, and they weren't kind to him. Pecs and stomach were pushed against his back as a familiar organ filled him.

A moan spilled out before his mouth was taken by the other man. A groan within the kiss came out as Kenshi's blindfold was pulled lightly against his face.

A firm hand was on his hip as he was thrusted into and pushed down in the fabric below. It was all too much. The bruising speed was too much.

Kenshi ripped his head away for the need of air. Johnny made a noise of glee watching the man below him whine. "Too much for you Ken-Doll? Can't handle it?" He teased relentlessly.

"I'm gonna cum-"

"Do it."

A growl came from the topping male as Kenshi groaned as his throbbing cock came onto the sheets. The clenching of the muscles around Johhny was intense. The tightness itself made the actor cum.

"Fuuuck!-"

Johnny groaned loudly. His entire weight dropped onto Kenshi who groaned in pain and pleasure. He panted due to the overstimulation of his cock that was making friction against the ruined silk bedsheets.

The room was full of panting and moments breathing heavily. Ruffles of fabric moving and a creak of the bed moved as bodies moved around. Kenshi groaned as body weight was released and there was no longer any pressure. A whimper follow when there was friction between the sheets and his cock.

Pulling out allows a flow of white substance to come out. Thick and lots of it. Johnny patted the other's rear end and he left quick on his feet. Kenshi groaned as he picked himself back up, and just as he was on his knees hands grabbed him.

"No moving, Ken-Doll." The tussle of hair moved as his blindfold was loosened. "Let me take care of you." A chuckle from the blind man filled the air as he was pulled into the actor's chest.

"You were just manhandling me, and now you're talking me to be nice?" He laughed mockingly.

"Oh shut it." Johnny playfully teased. When wiping the other's lower section he grabbed onto the other cock and squeeze.

"Ah! Johnny!" A dark chuckle was heard from beside his ear, like a whisper.

"Don't be a brat."

Light laughter was released from Kenshi's lips. Cleaned he turned around and relished in the hold of the actor. "I'll hold you to it." They shared a laugh.

"You're such a brat."

My name is mahmoud mohammed jaafar jaafar i studied computer engineering and graduated from university in 2023 i worked as a software engineer in a local company here in gaza unit the war started, then the company got destroyed and became unemployed and our house is destroyed partially and became inhabitant to live in but nevertheless we stayed in it because we do not else to go i currently live in north gaza where is a scarcity of food and i have 3 brothers and 4 sister one of them died while he was trying to find food for the family so i am the eldest in my family now i have to provide a living for them

Any amount you give me will help me a lot in supporting my family in Gaza in light of the fear and lack of food, medicine and drink

Chuffed

Help Mahmoud Support His Family

My name is Mahmoud Mohammed Jaafar Jaafar. I studied computer engineering and graduated from university in 2023 i worked as a software engin

Any amount you give me will help me a lot, even if it is $10.

.🍓•.°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･.🍓•.°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ao3 - hattersrabbit | MASTERLIST

REQUESTS OPEN!

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

what i do write!

character x reader

character x character

poly relationships

male, female, nonbinary, gn (specify in requests)

smut

dub-con (only applies to yandere/dark fics)

what i don't write!

non-con

no incest or stepcest

adult x child romantic relationship

will not age up nor will i write for child/teenage characters in romantic tense

homophobia, sexism,biphobia, anti-semitism, or transphobia, racism, xenophobia is explicitly prohibited and you will be blocked if so

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑

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BUNGO STRAY DOGS

dazai , chuuya , atsushi , akutagawa , ranpo , fukuzawa , fitzgerald , poe , mushitaro , sigma , fyodor , nikolai, yosano, kunikida, tachihara, jouno, techou, fyodor, nikolai, bram, ango

MORTAL KOMBAT

liu kang , kung lao, human! raiden, kitana , mileena, bi-han , scorpion! kuai liang, sub-zero! kuai liang, smoke, syzoth, ashrah , baraka, sindel, li mei, shang tsung, tanya, johhny cage, kenshi takahashi, fujin, nightwolf, hanzo hasashi (MK 9-11), erron black

DC

batman, battinson, superman, wonderwoman, hal jordan, barry allen, john stewart, martian manhunter, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, zatanna, john constantine, green arrow, harley quinn, poison ivy, selina kyle, sofia falcone, batfamily (platonic only!)

MARVEL

steve rogers, bucky barns, peter parker, wanda maximoff, stephen strange, deadpool, wolverine, thor, loki, gambit, rouge, nightcrawler, storm, avengers (can be romantic or platonic)

MOUTHWASHING

curly, anya, daisuke, swansea, tulpar crew (platonic only!)