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pyrotech-tabby · 22 days ago

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KISSES 💋 (Batboys)

Dick Grayson:

His smile could light up the whole city, even if it had traces of your lipstick on it. Dick was lying on the pillow, his dark hair spread out and his blue eyes sparkling. "Are you satisfied?" he asked, and you couldn't help but smile. "More than satisfied," you whispered, lying down next to him and kissing the corner of his mouth.

His lips met yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. His taste was intoxicating, a mix of mint and something uniquely his own. You dug your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. He shifted his weight, pressing you harder against the mattress, his hand exploring the curve of your waist.

His hand slipped under your shirt, touching your bare skin. "You know you can have anything you want, just ask," he whispered, burning your neck with kisses. You shivered with arousal and bit your lip. "Oh, I didn't know you were so obedient," you whispered, teasing him. He flipped you onto your back, hovering over you. "Check it out," he whispered before covering your lips with his.

One of his hands slipped under your back, pulling you closer, while the other gently stroked your thigh. The kiss became slower, more thoughtful, as if he was savoring every moment, every breath you took. He broke the kiss, leaving a series of light kisses on your neck, before whispering, "You're incredible."

Then his lips returned to your neck, but this time with more urgency. He gently nibbled on your skin as you moaned softly. "Incredible... and seductive," he breathed, and his hand tightened its grip on your thigh. You felt a wave of heat spread throughout your body.

His lips continued to explore your neck, moving lower to your collarbones. You tilted your head back, allowing him full access to this sensitive area. His breath was hot on your skin, and his hand began to move slowly up your thigh, under the fabric of your clothes. You felt a shiver and squeezed his shoulders in response.

You laughed softly. "Go wash my lipstick off your face, dear" you whispered, pulling away from him slightly and watching his confused expression.

He stopped, propped himself up on his elbows, and looked down at himself. A wide smile broke out on his face as he noticed the traces of your lipstick on his neck and cheeks. "Well, then you'll have to help me with that," he replied with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

He leaned over you and, with a sly smile, began to cover your face with short, gentle kisses, wiping away the traces of lipstick from your lips. "Now we're even, my little bird," he whispered, pulling away with a bright smile, revealing a few smudged traces of lipstick.

Jason Todd:

He was about to light up when you snatched the cigarette from his hand. "Not today," you said, and instead of a cigarette, you touched your lips to his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark.

He froze, staring at you in surprise. "What was that?" he asked, touching his cheek with his finger. His finger was stained with the bright color of your lipstick. The mark of your lipstick.

"A reminder," you replied, kissing his neck until his face was a canvas of red marks. Each kiss was a sign that you were there, that you were his.

He moaned softly, throwing his head back, allowing you to have complete control. You knew how much he loved this, the combination of power and submission.

When you pulled away, you looked at your work with pride. Red. Bright. Clear. His cheeks, neck, and chin were covered in your marks. It was a way of marking your territory, as Jason was always a bit of a possessive man.

"What have you done?" He muttered, but there was no anger in his voice. Rather, a slight admiration mixed with surprise. He's still not used to your boldness.

You smiled as you handed him the mirror. "Now everyone knows that you belong to me. And only to me." You wanted everyone to know that even the Red Hood, so dangerous and unpredictable, could be loving and gentle when it came to you.

He looked at his reflection and chuckled. The Red Hood, a criminal mastermind, now had a face like a dirty child. "Well, if that doesn't make them afraid of me, I don't know what will," he joked, but you knew he enjoyed it. He loved attention, especially from you.

You wrapped your arms around him, kissing his lips gently, careful not to ruin his new "make-up". "I promise, they'll be afraid," you whispered, feeling him relax in your arms. "Because they know that I'm behind you."

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent, and murmured softly, "Maybe I should let you do that more often. You make me... more dangerous." And you knew that was his version of "I love you".

Tim Drake:

Tim always took great care in his appearance, and you knew that he would be horrified if he got his suit dirty. So, when you decided to leave lipstick marks on his shirt, you did it quickly and discreetly.

It happened before a party at the Wayne estate, when Tim, dressed in an expensive suit, was checking all the latest reports to avoid embarrassing Bruce. He was engrossed in his work, and you knew this was your chance.

You looked around to make sure no one was around and planted a few quick but passionate kisses on his pristine white shirt. It was amusing that he was too focused to notice.

After you were done, you quietly slipped out of the office, leaving him in the dark about the "mark" he now wore.

In the evening, as you walked down the stairs to the living room, Tim seemed to be radiating confidence. He really looked good, and you couldn't help but be proud of him.

You knew that one day he would notice. And it was that moment you were eager to see.

As you approached Bruce and Alfred, they couldn't help but smile at Tim. You could already tell that they had noticed his dirty shirt, and it made you laugh.

"Tim, my boy, you look especially... colorful today," Bruce said with a wink.

At that moment, Tim realized what was happening. He looked down and was horrified to see the marks of your kisses, like a seal, on his once-perfect shirt. His cheeks immediately turned red, and he tried to cover his shirt with his jacket, but it was too late.

You just laughed, took his arm, and proudly led him into the living room. Today, Red Robin was wearing your badge of honor, and to be honest, he looked stunning.

Damian Wayne:

"How...?" Damian Wayne muttered, standing in front of the mirror in the dressing room and just looking at the lipstick marks you'd left on him. His hair was disheveled, and his costume, which he was supposed to wear in a few minutes, was in disarray, as if we'd just spent time in the dressing room together, showering his face with kisses.

"I swear, I'm going to kill you," he hissed, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it to wipe away the marks. "I'll kill you if any of these marks remain." He glared at you, his cheeks slightly flushed.

"You'll get rid of the lipstick, but not of the feeling of those beautiful touches and the scent of your perfume," you purred, and the corners of his lips curled into a catlike smile.

• "Your damn perfume will give me a migraine..." he muttered, but his hands paused in the process of wiping away the lipstick, and he unconsciously ran his fingers over the area where the lipstick remained. "And those damn touches? Damn, don't remind me..."

"Be quiet," he snapped, but there was no real anger in his voice. He turned back to the mirror and began to rub it harder, as if trying to erase the evidence of your presence more thoroughly than before. His face was reflected in the mirror, his cheeks flushed not so much with anger as with embarrassment.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, my gold... And be careful not to damage your skin."

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, immediately softening his touch. You were right - he could easily damage his precious skin if he wasn't careful. In the mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself - his hair was disheveled, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were slightly swollen from your kisses...

"Is everything okay, my gold?"

"No, nothing is okay," he growled, but it sounded more like a purr. He turned to you, his eyes dark and filled with passion. "I lost my guard for just a second, and now I'm in complete disarray. And it's all because of you."

"Okay, if you want to blame me for this," you took the napkin from his hands and gently wiped the remnants of the lipstick off his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, although he didn't make any move to stop you. His breath caught slightly when your fingers touched his skin, feeling the contrast between your gentle touch and the rough way he had been treating himself. His voice was quieter than he had anticipated, "I'm just trying to help." "I can do it myself..."

"You're more likely to damage your skin with those movements. I'm more careful and experienced."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't protest again. Instead, he watched you with half-closed eyes as you gently wiped away the last traces of lipstick. Your touch was feather-light, almost apologetic, despite the circumstances. "You like this, don't you?" he accused softly.

"Well, maybe," you replied, tossing the tissues into the trash.

"You're insufferable," he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He leaned back against the sink, arms crossed, and watched you. "Do you always have to be so gentle... and so damn sexy about everything?"

"You said it, you know."

"I know what I said," he snapped, but there was no real anger in his voice. He pushed off the counter and came closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And now I have to go out there with my hair messed up and your perfume all over me..."

You rolled your eyes and gently touched his hair. "Well, that's one problem solved, so go on, they're waiting for you."

"Mmm," he hummed vaguely. He pulled slightly away from your touch, trying to ignore the way your fingers ran through his hair. He was smart, witty, and incredibly handsome - but no one had ever put him in the position you just did. "Well, you'll pay for this later," he promised darkly.

With a piercing look, he turned on his heel and left the dressing room, leaving the door open.

"Were you born in a cave? Why don't you close the door?" you joked as he left the dressing room

HERE'S A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR YOU, MY DEARS

Conner Kent:

Conner returned to the Tower after a difficult mission. His body ached with exhaustion, and his mind was filled with images of destruction and danger. All he wanted was a shower and a bed. He could feel the dirt clinging to his face, the dull ache in his shoulder, and the overwhelming need to turn off his superpowers for at least an hour.

He entered his room and froze. You were sitting on the bed, wearing his favorite Superman T-shirt and wearing a playful smile on your face. You put down the book you were apparently reading and looked up at him. There were twinkles in your eyes, as if you were up to something funny.

"Hi, hero," you purred. "I know it's been a tough day. Let me help you relax."

Before he could say anything, you jumped up and planted the first kiss on his neck. Conner shivered. He knew he'd have to postpone his shower. His tired mind quickly forgot about the pain and exhaustion, focusing on the sensation of your lips on his skin.

Your kisses moved higher, to his jawline, causing Conner to exhale. "You... you know I'm covered in dirt, right?" he muttered, trying to regain control of the situation, but his voice sounded weaker than he intended.

You laughed without breaking the kiss. "That's why I'm waiting for you here. I've prepared everything for you as soon as you return."

You pulled away, took his hand, and led him to the bathroom. There, a hot bath filled with fragrant bubbles awaited him. A lavender-scented candle and his favorite drink, iced tea, were also present.

"Next time, I'll probably just pretend to be injured to receive this treatment," Conner joked, but you knew he was telling the truth.

You helped him undress, carefully removing his suit, and he sank into the warm water, sighing with pleasure. You sat on the edge of the bathtub and began to gently massage his shoulders, relieving the tension.

"Thank you," Conner whispered, closing his eyes. "You always know what I need."

You whispered: "Always," while continuing to massage him carefully. Conner is completely relaxed, letting the warmth and your touch wash away the fatigue and stress of the day. Later, when the tub cooled down, you helped him dry off and applied a moisturizing lotion to his skin. Then, armed with a bright red lipstick, you started your masterpiece.

An hour later, after putting a tired Conner to bed, you took a photo of his torso, which was densely covered with your lips. You saved the photo in your personal archive to remind him how much you love him and appreciate his heroism. Then you lay down next to him, pressing your body against his warm one. Conner sleepily embraced you, and you fell asleep together, knowing that even after the most difficult battles, love and care awaited you at home.

My comment: Yes, that's how it is....

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