🏴‍☠️ Stop Paying For Shit

a comic about someone who gets a visit from the reaper a bit sooner than expected, but has someone whos been waiting for them 

Hey, do you like my art? Help support me and buy me a coffee! ko-fi.com/zipper ❤️

You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.

Assorted Batkid Headcanons

During the middle days of Damian being Dick’s Robin, he was still figuring out how to show affection in a nonviolent way, so he just kept getting Dick fish. His logic was ‘Grayson has issues taking care of himself, so I will get him a pet that even he will find easy to care for’.

As a result Dick has an entire tank of various fish, all named Jim after Jim Gordon.

Dick finds this hilarious. Babs finds this hilarious. She’ll casually mention something ‘Jim’ did in conversation with her dad and watch as he bluescreens.

Tim has the pallet of a five year old. All he likes are exceedingly sugary sweet foods everyone else wants to puke while eating.

As a result, all he drinks are those stupidly sugary energy drinks that leave you seeing god after a few minutes. Is this unhealthy? No, it’s a liquid, therefor water, therefor good - Tim Drake.

Duke has purposefully broken his wrist to see if he would light up like a glowstick before. It didn’t work.

Cass shows her affection through objects, so a Batkid will often walk into their residence to find something like a metal bottle cap or a feather neatly placed on their table, without any security triggered or any other indication anyone was ever here. They all know to treasure these, no matter what they are.

Jason, given he’s built like a tank, will often hold things out of reach from people just to Be An Asshole. He loves it.

Damian used the same method of affection on Steph when she was his Batgirl, but had a bit more faith in her ability to not let something die, so he kept getting her small rodents, like hamsters and rats. She named them all after characters from Supernatural.

Stephanie had a huge Supernatural phase when she was 13 and never really grew out of it. She’s tried out summoning rituals from the show before.

Every single Batkid had a Warriors phase. Every. Single. One.

Dick was SO FUCKING HAPPY when Duke showed up because he finally had a brother who would happily give him a hug without having a panic attack due to TouchFuckery.

Steph has referred to the Batfam as “Furry Touchfucked McNuggets” before. No one questions it because she’s right.

Babs has designated snacks for every occasion. Program Taking Too Long To Load is Cheetos. Bruce Being a Bitchass On the Comms is popcorn. Done With This Bullshit For Good, I Swear is Twix.

Tim’s Notes app on this phone is entirely filled with sleep deprived 4am rants about why Star Trek is the superior franchise. He’s very passionate about it.

One time Bart was bored so decided to raid the pantry and he found Damian crouched on one of the top shelves, hissing like a cat and clutching a box of Weetabix. He took a picture and now it’s the YJ discord group icon.

Not exactly Batfam but the YJ Core Four + Cissie have a discord group chat and Tim’s the mod.

Damian loves Weetabix. Idk if anyone else knows what that is but that shit was my fucking childhood so he loves it.

Duke has tried and is currently trying to unionize all the kid sidekicks. They’re getting there.

Jason’s favorite authors are Mary Shelley and Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is his comfort book that he often reads after patrolling as way to wind down. He fucking hates Edgar Allan Poe with a passion for reasons he refuses to explain.

Cass will sometimes teach some dance moves to little kids while on patrol. Sure, she knows it’s not stopping violence, but when she sees another little girl with scars on her palms and wary eyes light up as she twirls in the air and laugh as she leaps, she thinks it’s worth it. More than worth it.

Jason’s found her doing this sometimes. Neither of them say anything.

The Batkids all love Jon. Yeah, move over Damian, don’t keep him all to yourself. They may have their own supers/alien besties, but Jon is just adorable, and they all want to smoosh the cheeks of a kid who won’t attempt to stab them for it. Look, he’s so cute. The day anyone bullies Jon beware, because the entirety of Gotham’s vigilante force will be there to wreak havoc upon you.

Something To Cry About

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: oral (f!receving), face sitting, overstimulation, dacryphilia, mild degradation, multiple orgasms, soft sex, playfighting/wrestling, princess as a nickname, size kink, not really impact play but reader gets spanked v gently, tickling, gonna say v mild humiliation just in case, biting, marking, unprotected sex, creampie

basically: you just wanna treat Bakugou right on his birthday. of course, your willful husband has other plans.

notes: this is just a lil' happy birthday fic for my favorite blasty boi <3 yeah, it's late, but so is everything I do. Kats understands, thank goodness <33

Katsuki is a creature of habit. Always has been, probably always will be. 

He’s always in bed by absolutely no later than 10 o’clock and then he’s up by 6 the following morning. Even on his days off, he insists on keeping to his routine, so that he doesn’t risk his sleep schedule getting thrown out of whack. It’s hard enough for him to wake up each morning and it never gets any easier, yet he persists. The same routine each and every day. 

Roll out of bed. Wish that he could sleep for a little while longer—which he could, if he let himself. Go for a run. Make coffee. Fix breakfast. Go back to the bedroom. Once again, wish that he could rejoin you in bed. Drag you out of the bed. Give you a good morning kiss and then sate you with coffee, food, and more kisses. He’ll never refuse your request for more kisses.

There were rare occasions that he broke his habits for. Celebrations, emergencies, and most rarely, just for the fuck of it.

Today was an occasion. A pretty big one too, but he had still set his alarm last night when he tucked in at precisely 9:59 p.m., telling you that he’d wake you by 9, at the latest. Little did he know that you had unplugged his alarm. Turned off the backup alarm on his phone too, because of course he had a backup. 

The hour was now nearly 8 a.m. and you were honestly surprised that he was still asleep. Normally, his natural alarm clock has him up by no later than 7, but he’s been working a lot lately, hence why you decided to give him the opportunity to catch a few extra z’s this morning while you fixed breakfast for a change. He was usually the chef between the two of you, but you knew your way around a simple breakfast spread. It’s not going to be much compared to the fancy breakfast in bed he’d prepared for you on your birthday, but it’ll be edible. 

You debate letting him sleep for longer, but if you know your husband–and you do–he’ll grumble all morning about how you let him oversleep, birthday be damned. So, you stroll into the bedroom, set the breakfast tray down on the dresser for now, and crawl into bed to poke the sleeping bear. 

“Good morning, birthday boy,” you greet in a sing-song voice, your hand gently working into his blonde locks, which are obviously afflicted with a case of bedhead. “It’s time to get up, baby.”

“My alarm clock decides when it’s time to get up and I did not hear that shit go off,” he murmurs, turning over to shove his face down into the pillow. 

“Well, I’m your alarm clock today and I’ve decided that now is a perfect time for you to wake up and enjoy your breakfast,” you insist as you drape yourself on top of him. He’d never truly mastered the art of ignoring you. He couldn’t.

All he offers you in response is a grunt and a muttering of something that’s swallowed by his pillow. 

“C’mon,” you pout, lifting a hand to prod at his cheek, poking him once. Twice. Three times..nothing. “Fine,” you huff, folding your hands on his shoulder and resting your chin atop them as you shrug. “But you’re not allowed to complain that I let you sleep too late.”

He sighs and another inaudible grumble can be heard before he finally lifts his head far enough from the pillow to let coherent words pass through his lips. “What time is it?”

“Just past 8,” you say as you rest your head and let your eyes close. Falling back asleep was tempting. “Still too early for me.”

“8? I slept in that fuckin’ late?” He picks his head up a bit more, jostling you from what was a rather comfortable position. 

“What did I just say about complaining?” You tease, shaking your head as you roll off of him, back into your rightful place beside him in bed to prop your head up in your palm.

“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, right? Ain’t that how that shit goes?” He smirks as he turns over to face you, mirroring your position as his other hand reaches out to rest on your waist, drawing you into him. 

“Oh, I’ll give you something to cry about, Katsuki,” you slide closer, slotting your calf through his legs and bringing your knee up over his thigh, winding yourself around him with all of your limbs as your arm slips beneath his own to hold him.

“Yeah? I’d like to see a pipsqueak like you try,” he snorts. “C’mon, princess. Give it your best shot.”

He runs his hand along your side and punctuates his words with a gentle swat to your behind, one eyebrow cocking as the smirk etched into his features only grows. You scrunch your face up in a determined scowl. You couldn’t take him, but you could still try your damnedest. There’s no way that you could actually hurt a behemoth such as him, so you could also make an attempt without worry. 

“Alright, but just remember, you asked for it,” you shake your head, flashing your palms as if to absolve yourself from any would be guilt should you actually manage to inflict an injury upon him. All he can do is laugh in reply. 

“I’m waiting,” his eyes sparkle as they perceive you, sizing you up for probably the millionth time since you’ve met, but never losing any of their luster as he takes you in. 

Your giggle reaches his ears before your hands find his shoulder, trying to pin it down to the plush of the mattress beneath you, but he won’t budge. You roll your whole weight into him and nothing happens, save for the smile creeping across his face. 

“Is that the best you got? I oughta teach you a thing or two if this is your idea of self defense,” he chuckles. “Should I let you win? Or should I give you somethin’ to cry about instead?” 

The smile on his face takes a turn in the direction of mischievous, an all too familiar expression that has your stomach doing flips at the sight of it. 

“How would you do that?” The timbre of your voice is deceptively innocent as you stop your efforts, deflating back into the sheets, smushed up against your brick wall of a spouse. 

“Like this,” he shrugs and slips both his hands around you, seizing you by your middle to flip you over the top of him and slam you into the mattress as he switches places with you. 

There’s a dampened whoosh of fabric as your spine sinks into the bed, your head cradled by down pillows that smell like his shampoo. Laughter is traded, but it quickly gives way to mild terror on your end as his fingers begin to wiggle up and down your sides. 

“Babe! Don’t! Ahh–d-don’t, please!” You beg, but it’s all in vain as his hands glide along your torso, attacking all of the places that he knows are sure to turn you into a giggling, gasping mess. 

“Say mercy,” he chuckles. “C’mon, darlin’, you know the rules.”

“Fuck your–ha! Katsukiiii! Ple–AHH–please!”

“Nah, you asked for this, remember?” He’s growing more smug by the second. “Gonna make you laugh until you cry. Or until you say mercy.”

“No!” You shake your head, writhing beneath him while you try to defend yourself, elbows pulled in close while your tiny hands try to fend off his all encompassing ones. “Stop!”

You’re already gasping for breath, trying to pull in fresh air amidst the fit of laughter and the on-going struggle, but he always wins this little game and you’re determined not to let him this time. So you fight back–like, actually. 

Your palms connect with his pecs and you push him with such force, that you catch him off guard. He stops tickling you long enough for you to take advantage of the opening you see and you grab hold of him, rocking to one side and then the other, using his own body weight as leverage to roll on top of him before you throw your arms up in the air, victorious for once!

“Good job,” he chortles, hands swallowing the expanse of your thighs as he slides his palms over your warm skin, exposed by the immodest hem of your sleep shorts–the ones he loved on you so much. 

Kind, lazy eyes flicker over your form, slowly consuming your silhouette like the last, glowing embers of a fire consume kindling. You’ve always felt like you could burn under his ruby red gaze and even after all this time, that still felt true. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, his gaze falling to where his thumb was absently rubbing against the inside of your thigh. 

“What for?” You cock your head to the side, genuinely confused by his sudden apology. 

“For this,” he smirks, but you hardly have a chance to see it before your back hits the mattress again and this time his weight is lumbering over you. 

Two muscled arms cage you in on either side while his heavy hips keeps yours pinned down. You’re at his mercy, but you can’t say that you would ever complain about being in such a position. 

“I still don’t understand what you’re apologizing for,” you breathe out a laugh, tilting your chin up to silently ask for an overdo good morning kiss, which he happily grants you. 

“Oh, well m’still gonna make you cry, princess. I’m a man of my word, you know that,” he insists as his nose nuzzles yours, a gentle gesture compared to the way that his hands snatch your shorts away from you. 

The cute underwear you’d put on specifically for this round of birthday sex too. Gone in a flash as he impatiently slips them right off your body and spreads you wide for his ravenous eyes, drinking you in again in all your exposed glory. He’s salivating by the time he hunkers down between your thighs, too focused on the task at hand to tease you about how flustered you look right now. He always found it adorable. Endearing, even. But there was nothing adorable or endearing about the things that he was thinking about at the moment. 

“Baby,” the noise falls from your lips in something akin to a whimper as you press your hands flat to the sheets, which you knew it was only a matter of time before you were gripping at them for dear life. 

He hasn’t even touched you yet and already, you’re giving him exactly what he wants. Happy Birthday, Katsuki, you suppose. 

“Say my name, baby,” he instructs as he presses the softest kisses to ever grace your body along the inside of your thighs, each one sending a new, potent shiver down your spine. 

“K-Katsuki,” you sigh, voice already shaking from the anticipation of the pleasure that awaits you, just inches away. 

You can feel his warm breath fanning over your poor, throbbing pussy. You close your eyes and brace yourself for the contact of his mouth, but it doesn’t come. 

“On second thought,” he looks up at you, vermillion eyes gleaming as he toys with a devious idea that he’s clearly excited to share with you. “Why don’t you sing me happy birthday? You were goin’ to anyway, right? Let’s see if you can finish the song before I make you cum.”

“You can’t be seri—oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as his warm, wet tongue parts your folds, diving into explore your sweetness with no trace of shame as he lets out a groan. 

“Best start singin’, princess,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before they close around it and he sucks. 

“H-ha—ppy birthd—ay to y-you,” you comply with far more difficulty than you anticipated. 

He hums in satisfaction, the vibrations making it near impossible for you to think straight let alone sing this godforsaken song, but you fear that he might stop if you do. 

“Happy b—irth—oh, fuck—b-birthday to you. B-baby, I can’t,” you whine, the pleasure quickly becoming too much entirely. 

It might be a more feasible task if he weren’t just so good at what he does. He knows exactly how to drive you crazy. How to get you right up to the edge in no time flat. You’d blame it on the years of experience he has with your body specifically, but he’s always seemed to inherently understand how to navigate it. You’d think somebody had handed him a map the first time you were together and since then, he’s only gotten better with practice. 

“Yes ya can,” he counters, giving your swollen clit a break as he drags his drenched lips along the inside of your thigh. “I know you’re getting close already, aren’t you?” 

You can feel that famously smug grin of his against your skin before he nips at it, taking your flesh between his teeth to suck a faint, red mark there and then repeating the process on the other side, despite how you squirm. 

“Can’t,” you shake your head, knitting your fingers into his hair to tug gently as he leaves yet another set of matching marks on either side of your innermost thigh.

His tongue teases your slit, his hot breath tickling you as he lets out a chuckle that edges on condescending. He dives in again, tongue plunging into your core without mercy this time, so that he can fuck you with the long, pink muscle while he hooks his arms beneath your legs, holding you firmly in place. 

“Katsuki! Fuck. Oh fuck, baby, p-please,” your whining persists, but it only serves to encourage the grin on his face. 

He licks a stripe up to your clit, hovering above your swollen sex as saliva slowly cascades off of his tongue. A drop of it lands with a wet plop and he watches intently as it runs along your delicate folds, a low growl rumbling in his chest while his hips start to roll. 

“C’mon,” he tears his greedy gaze away from your entrance to look you in the eyes. “I’ll even slow down for ya, baby.”

Two long, thick digits are suddenly prodding at your hole, but just one slips inside to slowly work you open, his eyes never leaving your face. He always likes to watch when he has the chance. See each little twitch and tug of your facial features when he touches you. How your eyes flutter when he curls his finger. How your mouth falls open and you let out one of those moans that is so soft it should be considered a sin in and of itself when his thumb circles your clit. It all looks like art to him and he is simply honored to be living in the presence of a masterpiece. 

You aren’t sure if this is making things better or worse for you. Regardless of pace, it just feels so damned good when he’s the one pulling the strings, puppeteering you in the paradise that he keeps hidden in the palm of his hand. 

“Happy bir—thday, dear Ka—ha—atsuki,” you half whisper and half sing, both hands pressing to the sheets on either side of you as you clutch at the fabric, trying to take slow, steadying breaths as his hand moves slower still. “Happy birthday..to—,” is as far as he allows you to get before he attaches his lips to the ones between your legs again and begins absolutely devouring you. 

Your hips jerk, but he wraps both arms around either of your thighs again, keeping you right where he wants you. That is, until he decides that this position isn’t exactly where he wants you right now. 

He suddenly rolls onto his back, catching you off guard when he takes you with him. You find yourself straddling his face, hips bucking of their own accord as you teeter right along the edge, your impending orgasm only staved off thanks to the mild shock of the change in position. 

“K-Katsuki,” you mewl, a desperate plea, but certainly not a complaint as you pick yourself up to sit up straight, hips still rolling as his tongue plunges in and out of you. 

“Cum f’me, princess. Cum right on my fuckin’ face. You can do it,” he rasps, red eyes locked on yours as he laps at your folds with renewed vigor, rapidly flicking your clit with his tongue until he hears the telltale sign that you’re about to do precisely as he asked.

He wraps his lips around your now entirely too sensitive clit to suck, lashing his tongue faster still until your hips jerk and you sob his name, riding his face while he grins and groans into your pussy slurping up every last drop of your essence that his mouth can retrieve. 

“Ka—ha! Katsuki, s’too much. T-too much, baby, please. I can’t take it,” you gasp, panting for breath as tears manifested from pure pleasure well in your waterline, threatening to spill over your cheeks.

He finally relents, but only to flip you right back over, grunting like a feral animal as he hooks his large hands around your thighs and pulls you closer to him while he gets onto his knees. He has no doubt that you’re soaked enough to take him, so he wastes no time, impaling you immediately with the full length of his long, thick, and throbbing cock. 

“Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he grunts, sighing with relief as he lumbers over you and starts to move, taking his time, despite his desire to ravage you. 

Your eyes roll back as you try to take in more air, feeling robbed with each slow roll of his hips. Already, you can feel the pressure building inside you again and you cling to his biceps, squeezing his muscular arms almost as tight as your still pulsing walls constrict around his cock. 

He sees the way your eyes have turned glassy, wet with tears that he just can’t wait to make you spill. A small smirk comes to his lips as he picks up the pace, thrusting a bit faster and with more purpose. 

It works beautifully. He’s more than pleased to see those dormant tears finally trail over your cheeks while you make such pretty, needy noises for him, just for him. He leans down to kiss the tears away before he leans in your ear, speaking through his labored breaths, “Told ya I’d give you somethin’ to cry about.”

He pulls back to smile down at you, capturing your lips again before you can say anything, not that you could anyway. It feels too good for you to be able to form a coherent thought. All you can do is smile blissfully against his lips and let him swallow the moans and whimpers that spill freely from you. 

He eventually rests his forehead against yours, his hips moving faster still as one of his hands catches your waist and he groans, almost as if he’s in pain, but you know that he’s close and you are too. A few more thrusts is alll it takes to send your rocketing into oblivion again, beckoning fresh tears to your cheeks while your walls clamp down around him and your cries of ecstasy echo around the bedroom. 

His hips stutter a moment later, his own sinful noises meeting and melding with yours as he pours all of himself into you, continuing to fuck his hot seed deep inside of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He pants as his thrusts taper off, slowing them as he licks along your collarbone and up to your neck to taste the salty sheen of sweat you’d worked up until he stills inside of your and nuzzles his nose against your jaw. 

“I love you,” he says softly, leaning in to kiss another stray tear away before he captures your lips again. 

“I love you too, baby,” you reply, cupping his face in your hands to pull him in for another kiss. “Now, can we enjoy your birthday breakfast?” You ask with a tender smile as you drag your thumb along his chiseled jaw. 

“No, thanks. I already ate,” he teases, chuckling as you roll your eyes and let out a soft giggle, your lips melding together once more while he rolls onto his side and draws your against him to wrap you snugly in his arms.

2022 Birthday

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

Dad Bruce Wayne Headcanons-

---

- Watches grass mowing YouTube videos. (Also power washing videos)

- All on full volume- ^^^

- While staying with the Kent's, he stood outside while a tornado was active and watched it. "What? Clark, if your dad says its safe to stand outside and watch then I wanna watch! You think tornados just touch down everyday in Gotham???"

- Does the grunt-sigh combo whenever he sits down in a chair. In or out of costume.

- Loud. Fucking. Sneezes. Once woke up the whole house at two am and he suddenly had 8+ armed people ready to slap a bitch in his bedroom before he could even blink because everyone had thought he was getting attacked.

- Takes his kids' phones and holds it right in front of his face to read something they're trying to show him because theiR ARMS ARE TOO SHAKY TO READ THE DARN THING-

- Forgets all of his kids' friend's names even though he's known them forever. "Oh, isn't Benjamin coming over today, Tim?" - "Bruce... are you talking about Bernard????"

- Tries to bond with his children by trying to understand their "youth culture". "How do you do my fellow teens?"

- He maybe banned from the kitchen, but not the grill. Man will gather enough people and associates and host a grill out in his backyard, inevitably making enough food to serve a whole army. Do not even attempt to stop him unless you want Alfred to gun you down- its how he gets out of the cave and socializes of his own free will and genuinely has a good time; no Alfred will not show you mercy when it comes to that.