#how to seduce a wayne

[superbat-love]

Bruce Wayne harbored a secret (well, besides being Batman). When he's not playing the billionaire playboy by day, he wrote a controversial relationship column for Gotham's seediest news outlet under the pen name Matches.

His advice was a potent blend of brutal honesty and strategies for navigating Gotham's underhanded legal system. He exposed the toxicity of relationships with manipulative clowns, dismantled the tactics of two-faced partners, and offered escape routes from partners more likely to break your back than your heart.

Matches’ column went viral, even hooking the ever-optimistic Clark Kent, who found himself surprisingly drawn to the column's cynical wisdom. When his charm failed with a certain oblivious Gotham vigilante, Clark anonymously sought Matches’ expertise for a blossoming crush.

Faced with a surprisingly normal question about winning someone’s heart, Bruce felt completely out of his depth. Wholesome romantic relationships were uncharted territory for him. But he can't ignore someone genuinely seeking help. Scrambling for inspiration, Bruce delved into the dusty Victorian romance novels lining his library shelves. If it worked for generations of Waynes before him, it had to stand a chance, right?

Blissfully unaware of Matches’ true identity, Clark took Bruce's hilariously old-fashioned dating advice to heart. He serenaded Bruce from beneath his balcony, formally requested permission to court him from Alfred, and sent him poetic love letters (complete with a lock of his own hair).

Surprisingly, Bruce's terrible suggestions work. While another might be baffled by Clark's sudden eccentricities, Bruce began to understand Clark's intentions. Clark's sincerity slowly won him over.

So, Bruce penned a formal letter in acceptance of Clark's courtship, returning the gesture with a lock of his own hair sealed in a gold locket.

[science-lings]

regardless of the answer, every single one of them get a moment where they realize that 'oh shit, I sound like my dad'

[thebibliosphere]

Do you think Bruce Wayne would flirt with Benoit Blanc?

I think if Bruce ever found himself in a situation to meet Benoit Blanc, to his great chagrin, it’d be as Brucie Wayne. He’d be on some rich fuck’s island under cover when a murder happens and it’d be killing him that he can’t break cover to get a closer look at the body. And then along comes Benoit Blanc and Bruce decides, well he’s Brucie right now, it’d be weird if he didn’t flirt a little.

And hey, who knows, if Blanc likes him maybe he’ll let Bruce tag along and get into places Brucie wouldn’t normally be if he wasn’t trying to seduce this weirdly accented, tall glass of deductive skills. (And maybe he’s enjoying it a little more than he should, but technically he’s on vacation so…)

Blanc, of course, catches on and thinks Bruce has something to hide and is keeping him close because he thinks he’s either the killer or in on it.

Except that’s not what the evidence or instincts are actually telling him. Not really.

But he also can’t ignore the fact that Bruce managed to trip and fall directly into the filing cabinet in the office, causing the drawer to fly open and reveal the evidence Blanc’s looking for. Or that the billionaire has a slightly delayed reaction to seeing blood. Not much, but enough for Blanc to notice.

There’s also the way he keeps making suggestions that on the surface seem benign, but are nevertheless intended to lead Blanc toward where his own instincts are telling him to look. So either Brucie is one of those killers who likes to be involved in the investigation because they want to make sure you’re noticing their ‘genius’ or because they think they can control the narrative by being helpful, or…

“Y’know something, Mister Wayne…”

“Benoit, please,” Bruce says with a slow, seductive smile that unfurls like silk over rich velvet. “How many times do I have to ask? Call me Bruce.”

“… Bruce. You’ve been so remarkably helpful.”

“Oh, you know me. I always aim to please.”

Bruce’s smile takes on an electric edge that makes Benoit’s thumb slide to the gold wedding band on his ring finger. He’s a married man, he’s a married man…

“I can’t help but wonder, though,” Benoit says, matching Bruce’s smile for a knowing one of his own. “Don’t you get tired?”

His tone is off, he knows it is because Bruce’s expression doesn’t flicker, not even a jot. It’s just unnatural enough to be telling.

“Tired of what?” the younger man asks, just the right amount of cheerful confusion in his voice and an adorable title of his head like a puppy to make you miss the sharpness behind his eyes. The way his body is coiling tight. Ready for a fight.

“Of pretending,” Benoit says, lifting a cigar to his mouth, making a show of patting down his pockets for the lighter. “I know I surely do. It grates on a man, always being underestimated. Everyone thinking you’re not as sharp as you are. Not as clever, not as quick. It must be a relief, I think, to finally be seen…”

The hand that had been rummaging in his pocket shoots out, aiming for Bruce’s perfect face. Bruce deflects it, twisting Benoit’s hand in a viper-like move Benoit hasn’t seen since…

“Ra’s doesn’t train just anyone,” he says, acutely aware of how much Bruce’s expression has changed without so much of a flicker of muscle. How sharp and hard the angles of his face have become. How deadly. “I confess, I didn’t see it at first. You’re very good, Bruce. I never would have put two and two together if you hadn’t twisted Haggart’s elbow the way you did when he tried to grab Maxine.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Take that as a compliment from one detective to another… Batman.”

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS I

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto & @omi-resources word count: 835 synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: this one went off the rails slightly and the rest of the upcoming parts are equally as unhinged (at least compared to what I usually write).

Compared to your apartment, Jason’s place was practically Fort Knox. You and he had been dating long enough that you’d practically moved in—and you knew his secret identity. Still, you’d never met his family, something Jason was adamant about keeping that way. You knew of them, of course, but hadn’t expected to meet them anytime soon.

Which was why you definitely weren’t expecting a ten-year-old ninja to break in.

You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard it—the quiet thud. At first, you thought it might’ve been Jason returning from patrol early. But then came the faint creak of the window opening.

Jason never used the window.

Cautiously, you stepped into the living room, still in a robe, hair dripping. And froze.

There, near the kitchen counter, stood a boy. Arms crossed. Hood down. Eyes sharp as blades.

“You’re not his roommate,” he said flatly.

You blinked. Your shoulders slowly relaxed. While you’d never met Damian Wayne personally, you’d seen enough pictures—and heard Jason complain just enough about the “demon child”—to recognize him instantly.

“…And you’re not the pizza guy,” you replied, equally dry, one brow raised. “So I guess we’re both surprised.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t even blink. Just stared, like he was trying to unearth your darkest secrets with sheer willpower.

“Who are you?” he demanded, stepping forward.

“His girlfriend,” you said, calmly. And waited for the explosion.

There was no point in hiding it. You figured that now that you’d met Damian, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Bat-family found out. Honestly, you were surprised they hadn’t already—weren’t they supposed to be the world’s greatest detectives?

It didn’t take long.

“I knew it,” the boy hissed. “He’s been acting suspicious for weeks. Staying out longer. Not snapping at everyone. There was even a smile—a smile—on his face during training.”

He circled you slowly, hands behind his back like a miniature detective—or a very judgmental cat. “I assumed he was hiding something. Drugs. Maybe a dog. But you… you’re worse.”

Your lips twitched. “A dog would’ve been worse, to be honest. He’s not exactly home on time for walkies.”

He ignored your joke. “How do I know you’re not a threat? An assassin. A spy. Someone sent to manipulate him.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “You think I’m seducing Jason Todd for intel?” You snorted. “Believe me, no one’s paying me for this kind of emotional labor.”

His lips twitched—just barely. Not a smile. Not quite. But something close.

Still, he didn’t back down. “What do you know about him?”

“Enough to stay,” you answered simply, dropping onto the couch and toweling off your hair. “Enough to know he sleeps better when I’m here. Eats better. Talks more. Still leaves his laundry everywhere, but that’s apparently not fixable.”

Damian stood frozen, like he was running your answer through a thousand internal filters.

Eventually, he moved to sit—perching like a hawk on the armrest across from you, expression still wary but less… militant.

“So you know what he does,” Damian said stiffly.

“It’s how we met,” you replied, reaching for the remote. “He was horrible at keeping the whole alter ego a secret.”

“Are you trained?” he asked next.

“To deal with him? Yes.” You shot him a grin. “To fight? Not really. But I have excellent aim with a frying pan.”

For the first time, a snort escaped him—quick and unintentional. And then: “I suppose you’re tolerable.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone under five feet has said to me.”

Damian frowned. “I’m ten.”

“Still under five feet.”

He huffed but stayed where he was, and after a moment, reached for the coffee table and grabbed the half-finished puzzle you’d been working on. Without asking, he began fitting pieces into place with alarming precision.

An hour later, Jason came home through the fire escape, expecting silence—or maybe the sound of you watching reruns, bundled up in one of his old shirts.

What he didn’t expect was the sight of you and his youngest brother sitting side by side on the floor, surrounded by puzzle pieces and popcorn, mid-argument about whether Red Hood could beat a grizzly bear in a fight on pure strength alone.

He stopped in the doorway and stared.

Damian glanced up. “You’re late.”

Jason blinked. “You broke in.”

“He made popcorn,” you said helpfully, tossing a piece into your mouth.

Jason pointed between the two of you. “What the hell is happening?”

“She’s tolerable,” Damian said, as if that answered everything.

Jason groaned. “I leave for two hours…”

“And you almost lost your popcorn privileges for keeping me hidden,” you added, smirking at him. “Apparently, I’m a national security threat.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about Wayne surveillance equipment and upgrading the locks to keep out demons.

But secretly?

He didn’t mind the sight of the two people he cared about most, sitting there together and getting along.

He’d just never admit it out loud.

Next Part →

[rosemaryhoney27]

Not Old Enough

The gala was in full swing at Wayne Manor, glittering with Gotham’s elite. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft strains of a classical quartet played in the background. Danny Fenton, in an ill-fitting tux borrowed from someone much taller, leaned against a column with a flute of something bubbly he wasn't entirely sure was non-alcoholic.

From his vantage point, he had the perfect view of his sister, Jazz, and—unfortunately—Dick Grayson trying, and failing, to flirt with her.

"You're into psychology? That's wild, I'm kind of a master of body language." Dick gave a dazzling grin, eyebrows bouncing like he was in a toothpaste commercial.

Jazz blinked at him, utterly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you read Freud for the articles?”

Danny winced from across the room. “Oof,” he muttered, sipping whatever this was. “She's not even pulling punches tonight.”

Beside him, Tim Drake appeared with a glass of water and a raised eyebrow. “How long’s this been going on?”

“Grayson’s been at it for fifteen minutes,” Danny said. “It's like watching a golden retriever try to seduce a cat. Painful, but kind of impressive in its optimism.”

Dick tried another move, casually flexing as he reached for a canapé. Jazz didn’t even blink.

Danny snorted. “Dude, give it up,” he called out as Dick stepped back for a breath. “She likes older guys.”

Dick turned and pouted. “I am older than her!”

Danny just pointed across the ballroom. “Not old enough.”

There, Jazz was zeroing in on Bruce Wayne himself—billionaire, philanthropist, and, as far as Jazz was concerned, “a prime specimen of rugged fatherhood.”

“She thinks Bruce Wayne is a total DILF,” Danny added, sipping again, eyes never leaving the trainwreck in motion.

Dick stared, mouth slightly open, watching as Jazz approached Bruce with the confidence of a woman who had studied Freud and Jung and decided to psychologically profile this man in real time.

“Oh my god,” Dick whispered. “She’s doing the eyebrow thing.”

“She’s doing the eyebrow thing,” Danny confirmed solemnly. “It’s over. May Bruce rest in peace.”

From across the room, Jazz offered Bruce a dazzling smile and said something that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward—the Wayne smirk, rare and powerful.

Tim blinked. “He’s smirking. She got the smirk. That’s—kind of terrifying.”

“She once convinced the FBI that our ghost dog was a federal asset,” Danny said. “This is light work for her.”

Meanwhile, Dick looked betrayed. “He’s like a thousand years older than her!”

Danny clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, buddy. You’re a gymnast. Bruce is a whole genre.”

Tim coughed, trying not to laugh. “Should we… do something?”

Danny shrugged. “Nah. Let her cook.”

And across the ballroom, Jazz leaned in slightly closer, her smile brilliant, and Bruce Wayne—Batman, scourge of Gotham’s underworld—looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, flattered, or afraid.

Danny smirked. This gala was way more fun than he thought it’d be.

[dcxdpdabbles]

8 year old Bruce: Alfred, can I tell you the story of the Wayne Blood Curse?

Alfred: No. That's how curses get spread. I don't want a blood curse on my house.

Bruce: But its really important I tell all new staff members or they are open to-

Alfred: No. Shush.

Bruce: But-

Alfred: I have dusting to do. Good day, Young Master.

Danny dusting in the room Alfred ran into: Hiya, you new?

Alfred: Yes. Just started last week. Are you a butler, too?

Danny: Not really, I'm more of a floater. I cover whatever work needs to be done if we're short staff. I'm Danny Phantom, by the way. Nice to meet you. You are?

Alfred: It's lovely to meet you, I'm Alfred Pennyworth. I-

Bruce: ALFRED NO! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TOLD IT YOUR NAME! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME!?

Alfred: What?

Danny suddenly glowing and flouting: HeLlO ALfrEd PeNNyWoRtH. ThE conTrACt hAs bEeN SeALeD.

Bruce: No!

Danny: Yes!

Bruce: NO!

Danny: YES!

Bruce: Alfred belongs to my parents! Its why Dad hired him- he's supposed to be my other Dad after a ten year plan of them romancing him!

Danny: Its too late. He's mine now. I have the soul binding ring! SEE! *Waves hand* I'M THE HUSBAND AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT CHILD, MAH HA HA HA!

Bruce: Nooooooooooo!

Alfred frog blink: Whats happening?

Bruce: That's man-stealing ghost took another one! Why is he always after the men, we Waynes want!? Its been 500 years Phantom, leave us alone!

Danny: Ha! You sound just like your father did at your age when I seduced his nanny.

Bruce: I shall have my revenge!

Danny: He said that too!

Alfred: Can someone please explain what the hell is going on!?

[traiaadd156]

Busty!reader x damian wayne 💖

Warnings!; suggestive, reader teasing damian, damian being curious, fem!reader, mostly fluff, Headcannons💖

Busty!reader who enjoys watching Damian's face turns hot and red whenever you hug him on the front, how your arms locked around his body and pressing yourself deeper into him on purpose.

He watches ever time he is in your room, how ridiculous he is getting flustered over globs of fat? He has seen breasts before in a none sexual manner(because he is an artist)

Busty!reader specifically saving low neckline or fitted tops to see his reaction(especially if he was the one who bought those clothes) obviously you cant help find it cute whenever you dressed up for him and watch his lips twitch to not form a smirk.

Busty!reader of course doesn't always tease him since it would lose its effectiveness on him, she sometimes wears his hoodies or pyjamas. But its weird sometimes when he grumbles about how you're trying to 'tempt him' or 'seduce' him with wearing a stupid teddy bear onesie.

"how dare you vex me you succubus." He grumbles whilst at the same time cuddling up next to you.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

Busty!reader sometimes forgetting how she has a large chest so she randomly knocks things over accidentally, it was a little funny to Damian watching you get irritated because of it too but he tries to not make it obvious.

Busty!reader forcing damian to have a matching onesie set and taking a picture of you two together without him knowing, of course he counts that as blackmail(which is so dramatic of him🙄)

"I'm not going to post it, and it's not 'black mail' youre just being dramatic."

"No I am not, I dont want any of my brothers getting a hold of this; especially my father."

Its a rather small blurb but I hope you guys enjoyed(⁠^⁠^⁠) I just ran out of ideas putting on this since Im working on other stuff.

[phielows]

Bruce being a pretty face that he is, would of course gain lots of attention. Besides having tons and loads of money and having a surname known in the entirety of Gotham.

Every event and gala that he'd casually walk in, there's already maybe 2-3 people hovering over him, trying to swoon him over and seduce him.

maybe about 2 meters away, 4 people are already eyeing him. Seeing how they'd win him over, how they would capture their prey.

Meanwhile at the manor, the Wayne kids are the ones who have to deal with the bombardment that these suitors are doing towards their father.

Dick: Okay so some weird mf just sent a whole ass bouquet in front of the manor's gates...

Jason: Yeah lemme guess is it carnations?

Dick: no, it's peonies.

Jason: Oh okay, so that's fron that one CEO from the outskirts of Gotham.

Dick: Wait you got them all memorized?

Tim: well I mean yeah, some of us here even got some bet going on from how long will it take for each and everyone of then to stop sending shit.

Duke: no kidding tho, some fucker decided to drove a whole ass drone with it carrying a package and before it could even reach the boundary of the manor, i exploded it to pieces.

Steph: one time I thought i was gonna be cornered while i was going home, but then turns out it wss one of them suitors, asking me to give Bruce his gifts. I just nodded, he went away then I threw the whole thing to the trash bin.

Cass: A car stopped in front of me on my way home and it even gave me a lift. Then before I could got off of the car, the guy beside me asked if I could give Bruce the perfume he has sent for him. I gave it to the homeless man.

Dick: Why would you, a trained assissin and a vigilante would just randomly accept an offer from a stranger????

Cass: my legs are tired from walking.

Dick: ??????EVEN CHILDREN KNEW BETTER THAN ACCEPTING A STRANGER'S OFFER?

_________________________

Meanwhile

Damian whispering while observing the surroundings: You got the thing?

Clark: Yeah got it here. (Hands over Krypto)

Damian, trying not to coo on the spot: okay. So, all I need to do is convince Father,right? Saturday night, at the daily planet tower, 10 pm sharp?

Clark: Yep! And could you hand him over this? (Hands over a little gift)

Damian: you need an added payment.

Clark: fine, 2 week visits to the farm, with free access to every animals.

Damian: deal. I'll make sure Father won't be able to resist this. Pleasure doing business with you.

[mkarchin713]

When Two Face finds out that the bats are suspicious of Danny solely because he’s helping the poor kid out, he decides to call his bestie/secret crush Bruce to vent.

….

Harvey: -I mean seriously Bruce, you adopt a kid and no one even blinks anymore, I do it and now everyone thinks the kids a future rogue.

Two Face: Yeah, Harvey won’t even let me have Danny restock the goons fridge, he is so paranoid it will turn into a slippery into villainy.

Harvey: Danny is too wholesome and sweet for crime Two Face, the kid got a job for the sole purpose of paying rent that we don’t charge him.

Bruce: then what do you do with the money?

Two Face: we set up a college fund for the kid. He’s damn smart Brucie, ya should have seen him fix that espresso machine. Hell one morning we woke up to him elbow deep in the car and now it doesn’t make that erk-erk noise anymore

Harvey: I always thought it was more of an eek-erk than an erk-erk

Two Face: oh don’t you dare start on that again Harv, we flipped a coin and I was right, just accept it.

Bruce: how is this my life.

Coffee-scented kisses

Tim fell in love with a barista. At first he had wondered if it was simply a mistake, to transfer his love for coffee to the person who produced it, but slowly he realized it was a little more than that.

Danny, the new barista, didn't really criticize him when he ordered 8 coffees a day, as long as he was on shift. He also didn't ask him about his health insurance every time he ordered Death Wish, and even made sure to make small talk every time he delivered his coffee.

It had only been a few days since he was hired but Tim fell in love with his small talk, his care, and of course, his coffee.

Then, when Danny was suspected of working with Two Face he was heartbroken. The boy was probably innocent, but he couldn't get out of his head that nothing in Gotham was simple, everyone kept secrets, including himself. So he made up his mind to stay away from Danny, for his sake.

Danny, for his part, was Harvey Dent's assistant and a part-time barista, he just wanted to distract himself and Harvey was strangely sympathetic after telling him about running away from home. Kind of like a guy you stay with during the vacations, but more permanent.

The halfa started to worry when the cute boy from the cafe stopped coming, maybe he was in danger? Danny couldn't help but worry, but when his coworkers told him Tim was coming in on other shifts he wondered if the boy was avoiding him.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 3

Part 3 | Masterpost

Cassandra and Jasmine

Jazz has always been concerned for her siblings. Why wouldn't she? Dan was a former world ender, Danny was ghost king (or was it crown prince?), and Ellie was almost always everywhere. In all honesty, if was overwhelming.

But she'd be damned to not love them no matter what.

Visiting Gotham to see if Danny was okay was... Well, she just had to. Somehow, her brother's have caught the eye of vigilantes and that was obviously bad.

Her phone buzzed and once again she's plagued by Dan's messages.

Younger-Older-Bigger: Should I stalk Nightwing???

Older-definitely: No. Please don't.

Older-definitely: We already have to worry about Danny getting stalked by a crime lord

Younger-Older-Bigger: Yeah but I'm not a crime lord

Older-definitely: NO

Older-definitely: STOP

Older-definitely: DAN

Younger-Older-Bigger: ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ

Why? Why did they have to be like this? Weapon training was somehow the automatic bonding activity for the Fenton/Masters siblings. Dan and Danny liked to fight with sword a little too much and Ellie was all to happy to throw daggers at people. Jazz preferred her lazers and blasters (though her aim was wonky at first, it got better... She promised.)

So here she was, in Gotham... Making sure her brother wasn't being seduced by a crime lord. But of course, she was a Fenton born and bred and raised. Gotham apparently had literal alarms that alerted the entire city of a massive attack. Her phone even got an alert from... WE warning. Wayne Enterprises?

Okay... Apparently Scarecrow was running amok and plaguing the streets with his fear toxin. Oh, Danny was going to go feral.

(A couple blocks away, Danny Fenton was high on the fear and giggling to himself. Yes.)

And also Gothamites carried gasmasks around. What a wonderful day to leave hers behind.

She's already cough, closing her eyes as she desperately tried to stay sane. Her liminal and almost half a state should have made the effects different from her but apparently she wasn't ghost enough to feel euphoric.

Stumbling into the closest building she could find, she's desperately gasping when a gasmask was pressed against her face. Jazz can barely register the dark haired girl with asian features who was hurriedly hauling her to her feet and away from the door.

It takes a minute before she's registering the girl, blinking when she saw her making gestures. Again, it takes her another minute to realize it's sign language.

Thank God she had paranoid siblings who took those classes in case they couldn't speak. But with her brain filled with feat toxin, she's clumsy in signing back but there's some mild surprise in the girl's eyes. But Jazz is conscious enough to notice the tense way the girl stood, how her stance was prepared for a fight. Maybe that was normal Gothamites behavior...

At least, she was communicating with someone. Someone who's really pretty too. God, was the fear toxin making her dopy? That can't be, right?

Cass had seen a pretty redheaded girl fall to her knees, and yet she had more resistance to fear toxin than local Gothamites. It was almost interesting really, but she's not going to dwell on it when this girl was choking for air.

Words don't easily process for her but her body moves without much thought, signing to her if she was okay. The girl, clearly disoriented, looks confused before realization bleeds into her strangely bright eyes—then she's clumsily signing back.

She says her name is Jasmine, like the flower, the princess—call her Jazz, she insists.

And she replies that she's Cassandra—like the character from Rapunzel, like the girl from Greek muths—just call her Cass tho.

When Jazz is in her arms, Cass can feel some muscles through her clothes. This girl wasn't as frail as she look. No. This was a trained fighter, someone who knew how to defend themselves without a problem. Cass should be wary, but at the same time she was worried.

She knows she should be going out there and helping but Oracle had immediately told her to help the civilians in the area. Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Spoiler were handling the situation but the civilians had to be protected at all costs. She might not be able to help as orphan in that moment but she could as Cass Wayne.

The commotion gets worse once Scarecrow's henchmen start raiding the place with every weapon they could get their hands on. She fights to the best of her abilities, watching, predicting, but what she didn't predict was a loud blast tearing through the place and shattering the window.

Cass can see a blast of green spark through the air before directly hitting the Jonathan Crane. The man is blasted into a wall, groaning before he's knocked out.

Her eyes dart to where the blast came from.

Jazz, the strange girl she has just met, was holding a strange gun.

(In the distance, Danny was still very much high and was not aware that one of his maniacal invention had actually worked in his sister's favor.)

Part 4 | Masterpost

[viktateapot]

ALMOST LIKE A FATHER

DAMIAN WAYNE X READER (CAT GIRL)

As much as Damian hated the fact, he was the spitting image of his father regardless of whatever path he chose to walk. From the narrow eyes and sharp scowl, to the cheekbones and natural charm, to his taste in women…

"Stand down," he tells the cat burglar, trying but failing to hide the burning attraction, the feel of the high.

He thinks it's the tight leather, or the thrill of finding an equal foe. Or maybe it was the fact that bats are just simply meant for cats.

You were standing behind him.

He feels your presence before he even sees you. It's something about the air changing. The way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Don't be such a bore, Robin," you carefully placed your hand on his side and slowly moved it towards his abs.

His breath hitches slightly as your hand makes contact with his side, the leather of his suit warm to the touch. He tries to maintain his composure, but the way your fingers slowly creep across his abs sends a shiver down his spine. He turns his head slightly, his piercing gaze meeting yours.

"I should throw you off the roof for being this reckless," he whispers, though his tone is more teasing than threatening. His hand moves to cover yours, trapping it against his abdomen. The tension between them is palpable – danger mixed with desire, two predators circling each other.

"Yes, come on, my little bird, why are you so tense?" You licked his neck from the curve of his neck to the lobe of his ear.

A sharp inhale escapes him as your tongue traces a path up his neck. His hand on yours tightens reflexively, fingers digging into the leather of his suit. A shudder runs through him as you reach his ear lobe, biting down gently before soothing it with another flick.

"You know," he says, his voice low and husky, "most people would be afraid of pushing me this far." He turns his head more fully towards you, giving you better access to his neck while keeping your hand trapped against him. His breath is ragged, betraying his attempt to maintain control.

"But you like it, Robin," you purred in his ear, nibbling on the lobe and then licking the curve of the ear.

His eyes close briefly, his jaw tightens. "Too damn much," he mutters. Your tongue plunging in and out of his ear makes his hips jerk slightly. He realizes that you're dangerously good at this game - teasing, seducing.

You bury your face in the curve of his neck "I love you too"

His body relaxes slightly at your words. He loves when you get like this - sweet, innocent. His hand covers yours again, spreading your fingers wider so they splay across his abs. He swallows hard as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, your breath tickling him.

"If you keep being cute like this" he says, his voice softer now, "I'm going to fuck you right here on this roof." He presses your hand down harder against his stomach.

"It's unlikely, so your father is probably flying around the rooftops of Gotham."

A low chuckle escapes him at your words. He leans back slightly into your touch, enjoying the feel of your body pressed against his back. "He'd kill me if he knew I was letting you do this."

"And why is that?" you asked, kissing him behind the ear.

"He thinks you're a dangerous distraction," he says, his voice turning a bit defensive. He tilts his head to the side, giving you better access. "But he doesn't understand… you're the only one who makes me feel alive." His hand slides up your arm, his touch gentle.

"Doesn't his dangerous adventures with Selina Kyle count?" you asked, pressing your nose against the back of his ear.

He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly. "That's different. Selina is… well, she's Selina. She knows how to handle him." He pauses for a moment, enjoying the sensation of your nose against his ear.

"Come home with me, Robin," you purred in his ear, nibbling on the lobe and then licking the curve of the ear.

His hips jerk slightly again. Damn, you know exactly what you're doing. "You try to seduce me like this when I'm supposed to be protecting Gotham?" He mutters, his voice dropping lower. He swallows hard as your tongue plunges into his ear again. "Jesus…"

"Come on, my little bird, say ""yes""!"

He groans softly at the nickname, his body relaxing further into your touch. You know he loves it when you call him that. "Fuck," he breathes out. "If I go back to your place, I'm not leaving until morning." *He presses his hips back against you slightly.

Your hand slid from his abs down his body.

His stomach tightens as your hand slides down past his abs, lower and lower. He spreads his legs slightly wider without even realizing it. "Baby..." He warns softly. He knows where your hand is going, and it's making him hard again.

You licked his neck again, from the curve to the lobe of his ear, and your hand reached the right place

His breath catches when your hand reaches its destination. He's already aroused again, and his suit pants barely conceal the erection you've caused. As you lick his neck and ear, he loses control, and your hand wraps around him through the fabric.

He lets out a low moan, his head falling back against your shoulder. "Fuck," he whispers again. He's barely holding himself together right now.* "We should go back to your place..." His hips move slightly against your hand. Your hand squeezed him gently through the fabric

His breath catches, and he lets out a soft moan. He can't help but thrust his hips forward slightly, pressing harder against your hand. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath. His hands instinctively reach down, gripping yours through the fabric.

He turns his head suddenly and captures your lips in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips aggressively. His hand covers yours completely, pressing it harder against his erection. "Stop teasing and get me out of these pants," he demands between kisses.

He groans into your mouth as you begin to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He breaks the kiss only to pant heavily against your lips, his eyes closed tightly. He lifts his hips slightly to help you slide his pants down further.

You walked around him and stood in front of his face, then knelt down.

His eyes snap open and lock onto yours as you kneel down in front of him. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His hands automatically go to your hair, gripping it gently but firmly. He's never been one for patience or gentleness. "Fuck..."

His hips jerk slightly as you take him in your hands without warning. He's bare now, his pants pooled around his thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, his jaw tight. You lick your lips slowly, making the head of his erection twitch. "Baby..." He warns softly.

Before he can finish his warning, you lean forward and take him into your mouth. He lets out a loud groan, his fingers tightening in your hair almost painfully. He hits the back of your throat immediately because he's so hard and you took him deep. "Shit..." He curses loudly.

His hips start moving slightly on their own, feeding you his length slowly. He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, his jaw tight. He's never had a woman take him this deep so easily. He tests you by pushing deeper suddenly, checking your reflex. You swallow instead of gagging.

He lets out a surprised curse. He wasn't expecting you to handle him like this. He tests you again by grabbing your hair harder and pushing deeper. You hum softly, taking him effortlessly. He realizes you have no issue deepthroating him. "Baby..."

His hips are moving forward. "Fuck, I'm going to come," he growls in a voice hoarse with desire. He can feel his arousal building quickly, too quickly. "Baby, stop... I'm going to..." He stops.

He doesn't even finish his sentence before he comes hard into your mouth with a loud groan of pleasure. His body shudders violently as he releases all his tension through this orgasm. He keeps hold of your hair until every last drop is gone then pulls away slightly so that he can look down at you...

"My little bird, we're still on the roof of Gotham"

He chuckles breathlessly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulls up his pants and adjusts himself. "And my little bird just made me lose control right here on top of Gotham," he says with a smirk, reaching down to help you up.

He pulls you close once you're standing, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your lips. "I'm going to have to reward you for that later," he whispers against your mouth before kissing you again.

[niwaart]

Succubus reader <— spectacular. I need more please…

The city pulsed beneath the midnight haze, a restless, breathless thing. Gotham had seen horrors—Joker’s madness, Bane’s strength, Scarecrow’s terror—but this was different. She wasn’t chaos. She was poetry in motion, a predator wrapped in velvet heat and whispered promises. And she never left a trace. Only lips parted in silent gasps and hearts that beat a little too fast in her wake.

She was the succubus in the shadows, the woman no one could catch.

But Batman had made it personal.

“She’s feeding off civilians,” Bruce growled, the glow of the Batcomputer reflecting in his cold eyes. “This city’s barely holding itself together. She doesn’t belong here.”

“You say that like we can actually catch her,” Tim muttered, arms folded. “She’s... fast. And she knows we’re watching.”

Dick leaned against the wall with a lopsided grin. “Fast? Try intoxicating. I ran into her two nights ago in the East End. Thought I had her cornered. Then she—” He cleared his throat, cheeks pink. “Never mind.”

Jason snorted. “She kissed you, didn’t she?”

“Shut up.”

Damian, ever sour and sharp, narrowed his eyes. “She won’t seduce me. I have discipline.”

“Sure, demon spawn,” Jason teased. “Let’s see how long you last.”

She knew they were coming. She always knew.

The moment she stepped into the moonlight, dressed in crimson silk that clung to every line of her wicked grace, they were already there. Eyes from rooftops, from shadows. She could feel them, each heartbeat like a different flavor on her tongue—Bruce’s grim resolve, Dick’s smirking confidence, Tim’s curiosity, Jason’s barely restrained rage, Damian’s fire.

And she craved every one of them.

Dick cornered her near Crime Alley, acrobat’s grace bringing him down just behind her.

“You don’t belong here,” he said. His voice was steady, but his heart stuttered.

She turned, slow and languid, lips curled in amusement. “Neither do you, Nightwing.”

Her eyes glowed like embers. Her hand reached out—not grabbing, not attacking, just brushing his jaw with fingers like silk and sin.

His breath hitched.

She leaned in, her voice a whisper against his neck. “You should smile more, pretty boy.”

Then she was gone. He was left breathless, flushed, and empty-handed. "not again! damn it!"

Jason tracked her through the Narrows, Red Hood’s guns holstered but ready. She stood in a ruined cathedral, framed by shattered glass and silver moonlight.

“End of the road,” he said, voice rough.

She smiled, stepping into his space. “You like chasing monsters, don’t you?”

Jason didn’t move when her hand slid over his chestplate. His body betrayed him. Muscles locked. Heat pooled in his core. Her eyes held his like a vice, voice curling around his mind like smoke.

“I like the broken ones,” she whispered.

His breath caught.

She vanished.

He swore and punched the wall.

Tim used logic, algorithms, heat signatures. He almost had her.

Then she showed up in his safehouse.

“You’re clever,” she said, circling him like a dream, “but tired.”

“I’m not tired,” he snapped, stepping back.

She pressed a hand to his chest. “Liar.”

He blinked—and her lips were inches from his. The warmth of her touch sapped the will from his limbs. Her eyes shimmered with something unearthly, and the part of his mind screaming ‘danger’ was smothered under desire.

He closed his eyes—

—and opened them to an empty room.

She caught Damian off guard. No seduction. Just standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, waiting.

“You're not immune,” she said when he drew his blade.

He advanced. “I am focused.”

But when she touched his arm, fire licked up his spine.

“You wear rage like a crown,” she purred. “But you’re still just a boy.”

“I am not—” His voice cracked.

She kissed his cheek with a phantom’s softness. “I’ll let you grow into something lovely.”

He stood frozen as she vanished like mist.

Bruce didn’t come for her. She came to him.

The Batcave was dark, lit only by the blue glow of screens. She walked through it like it was her throne room.

“You’ve been watching me,” she said, voice low.

“I know what you are,” he replied, standing firm. “And I won’t let you win.”

She smiled. “You already did. Every time I touch them... every time their hearts race... you're the one who feels it most. You want me gone because I tempt you.”

Bruce said nothing.

She walked to him, closer than anyone should. He didn’t move.

“You can’t stop desire, Batman,” she whispered. “You only cage it. And cages rust.”

He blinked—and she was gone.

They never caught her.

Every time they came close, she slipped away with a kiss or a whisper. And Gotham, dark and desperate, welcomed her like an old lover.

She wasn’t a villain. Not really.

She was temptation incarnate.

And she wasn’t leaving.

[luminiamore]

IN THE A.

biker geto suguru x black hoochie mama reader

warnings: fingerfucking, soft dom sugu, he’s a tease, sugu has a big dick, but we knew this!

a/n: this man is so fine i need him neow.

second part here.

masterlist

Life has always treated you so well, beyond well, in fact. You resided in one of Atlanta’s finest lofts, debt-free at 23 despite recently graduating from college. Even though you have your own income, your generous parents still send you a fat check every week or so. You had men constantly begging on their knees to fund your entire existence, and on the occasion, women, too. Everything you wanted simply came to you with no trouble. 

You wanted that cute brown skin man with the waves that you saw at the grocery store? He already has your number. You want that pretty ’90s hairstyle you saw in a vintage magazine? You were already on your way to go get it done. You want to change your dramatic nails, even though you just got them done two days ago, because you found another style you want more? Who can deny you? It’s your world. 

Was it manifestation? Who knows. The one thing you do know is that the world hands you everything on a pure gold platter.

Popularity followed you whenever you went, but who could blame you? You were the epitome of everything sexy. From the way your rose-colored wedges beautifully complement your flawless white toes against your dark skin to how your denim mini skirts hug your curves and accentuate your figure, and your tops, or mainly bikini tops, enhance your boobs so well that they could make a grown man cry. 

Had you been an adult woman in the 90s instead of being a high-maintenance child, you might have been a star, perhaps even one of the most iconic video vixens. However, that title belongs to your momma. The OG.

She was the sought-after beauty every top rapper wanted for their music videos. From Snoop Dogg to 50 Cent, Lil Wayne to Jay Z, Biggie - she lit up screens. She even brought fire to the feud between Tupac and Biggie when she appeared in the latter’s video. You’re almost sure that lady even told you about how Pac was nearly your father before she met your dad. And you, like the little minx you were, lived up to her status.

Now, you weren’t in those modern-day rap videos of the pretty big booty woman shaking their ass on camera. Your momma raised you to have more class than that. She taught you that your ass isn’t the biggest asset you have to offer, figuratively. Your face is, the way you make people feel is, the way you seduce people is. 

That resulted in you appearing in a few music videos where the artist expressed love for someone, as those typically featured the camera focused on one girl. And that girl was you. Those got you the recognition your momma had. Those got men practically lining up to pay all your bills, those got plentiful women dying to either be you or be with you.

Your reputation preceded you; you were exceptional, operating on a different level altogether. Your complexion was flawless, your lips rich and full, and your eyes possessed a captivating allure that could weaken anyone with just one glance. You were taught to always go after the best because you are the best. 

So, what the hell was your ass doing walking around in Oakland City? Wearing your ripped undercut booty shorts, which showed more booty than shorts, along with a vintage Dior top you borrowed stole from your momma, complete with a matching purse.

Your flower sandals from Dolce & Gabbana made such a powerful tapping sound, combined with the multiple pieces of gold adorning your wrists, ears, and neck, that everyone you passed couldn’t help but look to see just who it was, and they were definitely not disappointed.

You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t dream of entering one of the most dangerous areas of your hometown without protection. Your bedazzled gold pepper spray and your fully loaded Beretta Nano 9mm pistol in your purse, itching to be used if someone tries you.

They wouldn’t dare, though. Your momma wasn’t the only legendary figure in your family. Your dad ran one of the leading crime families in all of Atlanta, dealing with heavy drugs, counterfeiting, and smuggling illegal things across borders. He was feared just as equally as he was respected. 

Messing with you? Your pops would send their family a well-decorated package with their son on a shirt. The last man that cheated on you was a prime example. You couldn’t feel bad for him, though, you did warn him.

To answer your earlier inquiry, which has been nagging at you since you parked your Toyota GR Supra Coupe at a motel five blocks away from the neighborhood, you were there to buy drugs. Weed, more specifically. You could have asked your father, but you really weren’t up for hearing his opinion on how he believes you smoke too much. So you go to the next best thing, Satoru Gojo. 

Since your dad was focused on dealing with harder drugs, he didn’t bother with substances like shrooms or anything related to weed. He considered himself too old for that and delegated the task to his second in command and your friend since birth, Satoru. You quicken your pace, heels tapping rapidly as you approach one of his many houses. You’re almost there. 

He has some of the best shit in the A, but whenever you ask him how he does it,

“I just sell it, Sis. My best friend does all the hard stuff,” 

You would always roll your pretty eyes at this because this supposed best friend he always bragged about was never around. At first, you believed he fibbed about having a best friend out of embarrassment, suspecting that you were the only one who could tolerate his antics.

But you saw glimpses, small ones. A fine leather jacket hanging off his dining room chair that you know Satoru wouldn’t wear. A motorcycle helmet standing tall on the side of his kitchen counter. Your suspicions proved unfounded as your gaze shifted to a sleek, blacked-out MTT 420 Turbine Superbike as you approached Toru’s driveway. 

You know damn well that can’t belong to Satoru. Your movements stop once you knock harshly on the door. You catch the faint sound of a random trap song playing through it. You can’t help but smile, amused by how predictably cliché this white-haired man-child can be. Trap music at a trap house.

Your smile fades as you’re met with a cold glare from a short, thick, light-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig. Studying her features further, you can’t help but acknowledge her prettiness. But the minute she opened her mouth, you were annoyed.

“And, who the fuck you is?” She snaps loudly, the gum she’s chewing matching her obnoxiousness. She’s too pretty for this.

“Girl, bye.” You push past her, causing her to stumble slightly, as you march into the house. Maybe she was about to say something, but you didn’t stick around to find out. With your back turned to her, you catch Satoru muttering softly and glancing past you, “Don’t even try it.” 

She sucks her teeth in annoyance, slamming the door behind her as she heads back to the couch where Satoru, another man, and three other girls are seated. Wait- another man? 

You glance back at the couch again, only to steady your hands on the wall you were leaning on. Woah. This man was so fine that he almost made your legs give out on you. The fuck?

His face was so pretty. Sharp black eyes and the longest hair you’ve ever seen on a man. The wife beater he wore clung tightly to his perfect skin, so much so that you could make out that he had nipple piercings. Woah. The tattoos trailing up both of his muscular arms had you ready to remind yourself to just fucking breathe. He sported washed black Chrome Heart jeans, and the pretty cross peeking from his waistband gave it away. 

This man was looking at you, more like undressing you with his eyes. And you couldn’t look away.

“You can’t be knocking on my door like that Sis, I almost thought you were the feds.” Satoru hums, though he really wasn’t worried. He knew the feds couldn’t hold him for long; he had too much money for that. You quickly glance at him and roll your eyes. When you shift your gaze away from Toru, you turn back to the man who has yet to introduce himself to you.

As if he could read your mind, he rises from his seat, his towering height catching you off guard, and he saunters almost sensually towards where you’re standing in the kitchen. The minute he stands in front of you,

“Suguru Geto. You’re beautiful if you don’t mind me saying,” He brings a hand out to shake yours, his eyes never shifting from your brown ones. You glance down for a moment, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy when you catch sight of his immaculately clean, clear polished nails, his fingers adorned with silver rings. Lord, help you.

You give him a smile when you register his compliment, “Y/n. You’re the infamous best friend I hear so much about but never see?” You raise a brow.

Suguru swears he’s died and went to heaven when he hears your honey voice. He thinks he’s met the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on. The gold grill you have of what he remembers is the Scorpio sign confirms it. I mean, just look at you, your outfit, your jewelry, and your face. 

Suguru believes he knows himself. He knows he doesn’t like girls that do “too much,” but you make it look so good. He knows he doesn’t even have a fetish for feet. But if you told him to right now, he would drop down immediately and worship yours. He believed a goddess was walking among him when you walked through the door. 

“That’s me, the idiot doesn’t have anyone else,” He mutters. You let out the cutest laugh at his comment that makes his dick harden in his jeans. Lord, help him.

Satoru lets out a dramatic gasp behind the two of you, “Hey! I have Y/n!” You immediately retort at him, raising a finger at him. 

“Aht! No, you don’t,” You chuckle, snickering and rolling your eyes as you catch him placing a hand on his heart as if you’ve just shot him.

“Stop hogging my best friend and come get what you came for, Sis,” He waves a bag in the air, holding at least 20 grams of weed, ignoring the two girls tugging on both of his arms.

You squeal and sprint as fast as your heels allow towards where he’s seated. Suguru follows after you slowly, feeling ashamed at the way the other two girls cling to him the moment he sits down. He wants nothing to do with them, he feels almost disgusted by their presence now that you’re here. He didn’t even realize they were here when he arrived, he was only here for Satoru.

You snatch the bag from him, slip it into your purse, and then lunge toward him for a hug, knowing he’d never let you pay, of course.

“Thank you, Toru!” Naturally, he wastes no time pushing the two girls aside to embrace you. You’ve always been his top priority. Suguru finds it challenging to look away because as you hug his best friend, your curvaceous behind is directly in his line of sight. He wishes you would hug him like that.

When you straighten, “I gotta go. You guys seem busy anyway,” You quickly utter and glance at Suguru. He seemed like he was about to say something, but you interject before he can. 

“It was nice meeting you, Suguru.” You softly tell him. He might’ve just came in his pants with the way you said his name in that tone. He pauses for a moment, but before he can utter a word, you’ve already dashed out the front door.

He stills, and he turns to his lifelong best friend,

“Give me her number.”

It’s been about two hours since you arrived at your loft. You prepared yourself a nice dinner, a well-made Alfredo, before making your way to your room. You sink into the comfort of your silk sheets, retrieving your ashtray and preparing to roll up. Soft Erykah Badu playing from your Alexa Speaker. You’re interrupted by an unknown number dinging on your phone. 

Who’s this?

You smile immediately, feeling a rush of nerves as you realize he asked Satoru for your number. You're accustomed to getting what you want, and right now, you want him. You eagerly await his text, noticing that he's typing.

You observe his directness. Suguru is texting you as if he knows exactly what he wants, and if there's one thing you admire in a man, it's when he's decisive and goes after what he wants. You've already decided to smoke with him, swiftly swapping your shorts for a black Juicy Tracksuit as it got windy. You opt to play a little hard to get.

Your jaw drops at the amount he sent you for an Uber. Is he crazy? While you’ve had people send you rides to go somewhere, you can’t shake the feeling that he just wanted an excuse to send you money. You’re still reeling from the shock when he immediately sends you the address to his place afterward. You grab two rolled-up blunts and slide on a pair of kitten heels. Snatching your keys, you head out when your Uber driver arrives outside.

The drive to his place is surprisingly short, almost too short. Considering how spread out the area is, you’ve only been in the car for 15 minutes, yet you’re still in the same neighborhood. You brush it off and approach his door. As you knock, you notice Suguru’s driveway filled with three vehicles: the motorcycle you saw earlier, a Mercedes E-Class, and a sleek BMW M3. You can’t help but appreciate yet another reason you’re drawn to him.

He opens the door, and you swear you wish you could pounce on him. He’s still wearing the wife beater, and when you glance up at his face, you notice his eyes are low and red. With his hair tied up in a man bun, a few strands cascading over his face, the only thought running through your mind is... He’s so pretty.

“You started getting lit without me?” You feign surprise as he welcomes you inside. He kindly takes your keys and hangs them on the holder by his door. You could feel him staring at your ass as you move to stand beside him.

He chuckles, shaking his head at you. He reaches a hand out. “You know how Satoru is. My room?” You nod, and he shivers as your long, pretty nails brush against his hand. Was everything about you so alluring?

You follow behind him, noting how he never lets go of your hand. His room, much like his style, is entirely black. Black sheets adorn a king-sized bed, with a few rock band posters hanging above where his dressers are placed. He even has a private bathroom, the door wide open. Damn, this man even has lavender incense burning on the small desk next to his bed.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,”

Don’t mind if I do. You drop your body on his bed with a plop. You start to take off your right heel, intending to reach for the left one, only to find Suguru already kneeling down, doing it for you. When he’s done, he rubs your feet for about three long seconds before pulling away. You gasp softly, looking away from his intense gaze. Is he usually this forward?

“Uh- I rolled two. I get lip gloss on the blunt,” You sputter out, retrieving them from your purse as he stands up from his position on the floor and settles onto his pillow.

He makes a tsk sound, “Don’t play with me,” He grabs only one from your raised hand and pulls a skull lighter from his jeans pocket. As you place the other one in your purse, you watch him take the first hit. You realize he enjoys eye contact because, throughout all of his movements, his eyes never leave yours.

You’re nervous. For the first time in your life, a man has made you feel nervous. His energy makes you nervous, how he observes you with such intensity makes you nervous, and even how he feeds you the blunt after taking a few hits makes you nervous.

You’re mesmerized. The effects of the blunts hit you swiftly, altering your mind and intensifying your urge to fuck this man till he sees stars.

Suguru himself has never felt this way before. He’s had a few flings here and there and has even been in a relationship or two. But he’s never felt the need to be entirely consumed by someone. The minute he saw you, it felt like time had stopped for him; he could hear how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to give you the universe because the world is far too small for someone like you.

“You have a boyfriend?” His husky voice asks this out of respect for you. Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck less if you had a man. You’d be his either way.

“Why? You want me?” You giggle, though you knew he did, you just wanted to tease him. As you gaze up at him through the haze, your breath catches when you observe that his eyes have darkened noticeably. You recognize that expression all too well—it mirrors the one you give the camera when it’s focused on you.

He doesn’t respond or even break a smile at your inquiry. No, his eyes are fixated on your plump, glossed lips as you take another hit. You shift your thighs a little, you don’t know how long you can wait before he makes his move.

Suguru notices, and this time, his lips twitch up a bit, “And if I did?” His whisper keeps you quiet. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Suguru doesn’t mind your silence. He needs you to savor your angelic tune anyway since you’ll scream his name in a few minutes. Rising from his position, he tilts your chin towards him, his eyes catching note of the smoke in your mouth. Drawing his lips dangerously close to yours, he exhales softly,

“Let it go.” You don’t hesitate to listen to his command. It’s as if your mind is his now, the way he doesn’t even do anything to get your attention. As soon as the smoke escapes your lips, he inhales it, pressing his soft lips firmly against yours.

You whimper out at the force and immediately kiss him back. Suguru swears he’s already in love when he feels your lips reciprocate his action, the stickiness of your strawberry gloss making him release a sound that had you squeezing your thighs. He’s relentless, nipping and forcing his tongue to merge with yours.

His fervor with just a kiss leaves you reeling. The combination of the weed and his lips makes you feel intoxicated, causing you to grasp onto the fabric of his jeans to steady yourself. When he pulls away from you, it only makes you crave more.

You’re both breathing heavily, and the sound of Brent Faiyez playing on his speaker is long tuned out. He stares at your eyes briefly before gently pulling you down to lay on your back. You lean up to pull him into another passionate kiss,

“More, please.” You whine out, a little too desperate for your taste. You couldn’t understand why you wanted him so bad, maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the fact that your pussy was dripping the minute you saw him at Satoru’s place. You can tell he wants to take things slow, but you can’t find it in you to share the same feeling. You need him to do something to you, now.

He only whispers, “Patience, sweetheart.” And moves his lips down to your neck. Soft kisses fill your throat before he stops teasing and reaches for your zipper. He's not shocked to learn that you don't wear a bra; he could almost see your hard nipples through the velvet fabric of your hoodie.

Your sigh of satisfaction comes from the moment he wraps his lips around your dark areola and gently caresses the fat of your unattended boob. He starts slowly, listening to the sounds you make and observing how he can persuade you to moan louder. Your breath gets shaky when he gets more aggressive with his movement, pulling at your sensitive nipples. He decides that he wants more from you.

Suguru rasps out, “I know you want me to fuck you,” Your body feels on fire as his touch slithers down your stomach, grazing your belly ring. He lowers your tracksuit pants for you and throws them across his room, forbidding you to do anything that doesn’t include you receiving pleasure. Your body is anticipating as he continues, “But I need to prep you, or you won’t be able to take me,”

He toys with the slender strap of your thong, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on your face as he talks, “Be good and let me play with you for a bit, okay?”

Your fiery personality is well-known for not letting men dictate your actions. You’re quick to dismiss any nigga, and based on instinct, you’re almost prepared to snap: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? 

By now, you should realize that Suguru observes every single move you make, every slight gesture you make, when your breath catches, and even now, he detects that you intend to snap at him. He does nothing but give you a look, a dangerous look, which only implies I dare you. Suguru orchestrates a dominance so calm but prominent that you can’t help but whimper out a quiet “Yes,”

What is he doing to you?

He presses a kiss to the side of your mouth as a reward. He’s in a trance. Suguru can’t pull his gaze away from your panties. You’re so wet that it’s clinging onto the fabric as he slowly pulls it away from your lower lips. He finds himself plunging two fingers into your wet cunt before your thong even touches your knees. Fuck, you’re tight.

“Ah- shit! Sugu!” You mewl, walls immediately clenching on his thick fingers. He quickly begins to rub circles on your twitching clit, observing as you gasp and scramble under him. You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to tell you this, too.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Your slick is dripping all over his palm as he finger fucks you. You try to keep your moans in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your mind. But you can’t. You can’t do anything but scream out at the way his long fingers are effortlessly punishing your G-spot.

Suguru moves his fingers faster when you don’t answer him, “I asked you a question, baby.” 

Your loud whimpers can be heard over his music. How could you possibly answer? You’re already starting to blank, you’re not sure you even listened to what he said. “I- Oh fuck, Yes!” 

The sounds coming from your fat pussy is downright phonographic. The squishing, the squelching. Shit, it’s even dripping onto his bed, creating a wet stain. Fuck. Suguru doesn’t think he can take another minute without being inside you. He needs it, but he needs to make you cum first. 

He knows you’re about to, with the way your breathing is stuttering and the way there’s a white cream starting to stain his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you. You’re clenching so hard he’s not sure his dick will fit inside of you. He’ll make it fit, he’ll break your little pussy in if he has to.

Suguru leans against you, his desperate panting revealing his longing for you as he whispers in your ear, “I need you to cum for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” He fucks his fingers inside of you harder, rubbing your pretty clit even faster.

You nod eagerly, mind already reeling as you wail, “Y-Yes. I’m gonna cum, Sugu! I- Shitt,” He gently kisses your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he’s encouraging you to accept it, to just cum all over him. And you do.

Your grip on the bottom of Suguru’s wifebeater hurts your fingers, and you arch your back off the bed while your tight walls clench once more around him. You see white spots in your blacked-out vision, and your squealing is so loud that you worry the neighbors will hear it. He doesn’t stop moving when you cum, wanting to prolong what he knows is the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had. 

When you finally stop twitching in aftershock, your breathing begins to slow down, and his movements follow suit. Your panties are long gone. He swiftly pulls out of you while you’re still in a daze, making you unaware that he’s sucking up your essence from his fingers and pulling his jeans down along with his Calvin Klein briefs.

You are, however, aware when he pushes your thick brown thighs flush against your chest. And you’re even more aware when he lines his fat pink tip to your sticky lower lips. Suguru doesn’t let you see just how big he is, he directs your focus to his lips on yours. But Lord, do you fucking feel it. You feel it when he rubs up and down on your wet slit. You feel it when he pushes only his tip inside of you before he pulls back out again.

Suguru doesn’t think he can keep on teasing you like this. He tries to keep it up for your sake, but the way you feel on his tip has his body shaking; it’s almost embarrassing. But he can’t find himself to feel ashamed when you look up at him at him like that, your eyes pleading for him to fuck you into the mattress.

“I’m gonna put it in now, baby. I’m gonna fuck you real good, okay?” You’re learning, you know he wants an answer from you, and you don’t bat an eye when your trembling, honeyed voice whispers, “Whatever y-you want, Sugu.”

Whatever he wants? You probably should’ve never said that, and he’ll show you why. He pushes inside of your cunt slowly, hissing at the same time you shriek when your walls try to push him out. “Breathe,” He rasps out. And you’re trying, you’re really trying to. But he’s just so fucking big, it’s like he’s breaking your pussy in half. 

“Y-You’re too big! I can’t-” He doesn’t let you finish, he proves that you can when he pushes in halfway through your slobbering pussy. 

“Of course you can, Y/n. You’re almost there, sweetheart. One more breath for me, yeah?” 

You listen wordlessly, sucking in another deep breath. It’s inevitable to cry when he plunges the rest of his 8 and a half inches in one go. Suguru lets out a groan in your ear, and the sound makes your insides churn. How is it that he immediately finds your spongy spot? You’re so used to being briefly grazed in that spot that this feeling is foreign to you.

Suguru gives you a few seconds before your pussy starts suffocating him, and he’s forced to start feeding you with slow, deep strokes. “Jesus, fuck!” You keen, mewling, and pressing on his firm abs; the pressure was just too much for you. Are you crazy?

“None of that Y/n.” He uses his left hand to hold both of your hands and place them above your head, gently grasping your throat with his right. All the while, his eyes never leave yours, and his big cock never stops stirring up your guts at that slow pace. He gets impatient. 

“You feel so good, so fucking tight. Pretty pussy is mine now, yeah? Tell me it is,” Gradual snapping of his hips against yours in a feverous tempo causes you to scramble under him, with your mind getting lost since you can’t find anything to keep you grounded. He has you altogether under his control, and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset.

You don’t respond, your brain too gone to form any thought that’s not Sugu. You’ve forgotten your manners, he’ll make sure to remind you. He snaps his hips harder, he swears the cries you make almost make him cum on the spot.

“Words, Y/n. Tell me this perfect pussy is mine,” The sound of your soaked pussy filling the air as he whispers against your lips, which are permanently shaped in a perfect O.

You weep out, “Fuck! Oh, Sugu- it’s yours, all yours! I- Ah!” His face adorns with a sly smile at your confession. His body is on fire, your pussy perfectly snug around the shape of his cock. He knows he’s about to cum, with the way his insides are twisting, and his heavy balls are twitching rapidly as they slap on the fat on your ass. Your pussy is so good that he swears you’re not even from this planet. But he needs to get you there first. That’s all he needs to dump his seed inside of you.

He slithers the hand gripping your throat down to your drooling clit, rubbing so fast you think you’re having whiplash. Your cries become louder, and before you even know what’s happening, you’re covering Suguru’s entire stomach and his soft sheets with your squirt.

Suguru follows swiftly after you, letting out a sinful moan, his body trembling as he fills your pussy with his cum. It’s so much, so fucking much, that you can feel it overflowing past your stretched-out pussy. The sluggishness of his thrusts inside you causes him to let out loud breaths and drop his face in the crook of your neck.

Your eyes are still stuck on the ceiling above you, shallow breaths emerging from your sore throat. Woah.

The long-haired man above you is still panting and giving you another command, making it difficult for you to process what just happened to you.

“On your stomach, sweetheart.”

This time, you remember your manners.

[scriptseekstories]

Alright gang, here me out-

The What if: Mom never died Au, but she gets with one of the Gotham’s sirens or even better, Talia instead of giving Bruce a second chance?

Because I can and will make our mom a baddie cuz she’s girlboss.

Bruce standing in front of your mother’s door: Please, I know I messed up, but I need you and our child. We could raise them together with our other children, they need a mother and you need me.

(M/N): Do you mind? I’m trying to spend time with my girlfriend.

Bruce: Who-?

Ivy striding in from the bedroom, wrapping her arms around your mother: My beautiful queen bee~ what brings Bruce Wayne here~?

(M/N): Just here to give me some child support I suddenly realized I’ve never gotten for 16 years

OR

Damien: Mother!! What is this?! Why are you involved with this bland civilian?!

Talia trying to show Damien how much she lived your mother by openly being handsy: Don’t be that way, Damien. She’s my wife now and you’ll have to get along with your new sibling.

(M/N) trying to prevent Talia from traumatizing Damien from her friskiness: We don’t have to get along immediately, but I hope I’ll earn your respect as much as you earn mine.

You awkwardly stand there next to a very angry practically shaking Damien while your moms pulled each other away.

You: So… You like bees?

Damien: …yes…

OR

Bruce as Batman on a rooftop with Selina as Catwoman: I don’t know why she doesn’t accept one date! We had such chemistry when we met.

Selina on her phone: Uh huh

Bruce: I mean, sure I ran away like a coward, but I’m here now. And she shouldn’t hold that against me when she didn’t even inform me of (Name), I would’ve taken them in and cherished them both.

Selina: Uh huh

Bruce: Okay, you’re obviously not listening, what are you doing?

Selina: Texting (M/N) to remind her to better get ready for tonight. Alfred is watching over (Reader) so we wouldn’t have any interruptions if you know what I mean~?

Either way, it’ll drive Bruce CRAZY since he fumbled so hard that your mother decided men weren’t worth it. Not like Ivy, Selina, or Talia are any better, they’re still yanderes for your mother AND you.

Ivy: Why bother bonding with your human siblings when your true siblings are here~?

You stared at her while being surrounded by many sentient plants.

You: I mean… it’s better than nothing I guess.

Meanwhile Dick is banging on the glass window, crying and begging for you to spent time with you big brother, and the others are sneaking around to snatch you away.

Selina: I’ll teach you many skills, like how to fight in heels, steal from towering buildings, and seduce men and women~

You were attempting to try and do a sexy walk as she cried with tears of joy while taking photos to show your mother.

Alfred having a heart attack for even thinking about the possibility of you being sexualized for men and women: Absolutely not!!

(Selina ended up getting scolded while pouting by your mom and Alfred)

Talia: (Name), my dear. You are worth so much more than your neglectful family had given you credit for. I promise you I’ll find a way to make your mother pregnant with my babies and you’ll have better siblings.

You: Gross! Why do you keep telling me these things?!

Damien: I agree, mother! Shield their innocent ears from your escapades! And obviously you should only impregnate their mother with twins!

You: Stop talking about my mom like that!! And how do you both keep getting into my room?!

A/N: just something to feed yall until the actual chapter 6 comes out lmao

I swear I’ll post it soon 😭 glad to see many threats (not actual threats dw) on my downfall

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP Fanfic: Family bonding.

The Waynes, for all of their proclamation of being some of the best detectives in the world, missed the signs that one of their own was dating. Usually, that wouldn't have been so shocking, except that the person who dating made a point to tell the group he was dating.

He also somehow always stayed friends with his exes. Which was a superpower of its own, if they are honest, because not a single one of them was bitter about the relationship ending with Dick.

Another thing unusual about Dick having a lover was that he never brought them around or was seen in public with them. If anything, it felt like Dick was trying to keep the relationship a secret.

Which went against everything he cared about when dating someone.

That's why Bruce fully believed that the secret was being enforced by his partner. So it was up to the Waynes to find out who this mysterious lover was and evaluate if they were good enough for Dick.

So on a Friday night, when Dick was allegedly tutoring underprivileged kids but was actually meeting up with his lover, the Waynes piled into a shabby-looking minivan and followed.

It was cramped. It was dented, and it had tinted windows. Most importantly, the minivan belonged to John Constantine, who hadn't used it in over twenty years after learning to portal from one place to another.

Dick would never realize it was them.

"I think this is a terrible idea," Jason grunts from the back seat. He crosses his arms, refusing to pick up the binoculars Tim had passed around earlier. "Dick is a fully grown man. He knows how to properly talk to his partner about what he wants in a relationship."

"Shut up, virgin," Damian hisses from the passenger seat. He won the right to sit there after breaking Steph's skin with his teeth. Bruce had allowed them to brawl for a few minutes until Damian emerged victorious. He also let her use his phone to schedule a rabies shot, keeping eye contact with Damian in the rearview mirror. "Just because you never had a girlfriend-"

"-or a boyfriend. You fail to seducing both." Cass cut in from around her binoculars. She fist-bumped Tim as Jason threw her an offended look.

"Thank you, Cassandra. Ultimately, you have no experience and thus can not comment on what to do in relationships." Damian concluded.

"Neither do you!"

"Yes, but I am a child." Damian waves his hand in Jason's general direction. "It's expected of me to not have any romantic experience. You, on the other hand, are a loser."

"Unless you are Asexual or Aromantic," Bruce pipes in, leaning a little against the steering wheel, attempting to get a better view of the apartment building that Dick had walked into. He wasn't going up to any of the actual units; he remained in the lobby. "Then you are the are not a loser. But rather the closest thing to godhood."

"B, we know gods."

"That's why I said closest."

Thankfully, the lobby had huge windows. Dick was speaking to the receptionist, leaning on the counter with a little smile, and the man was grinning back.

However, Dick hasn't touched his hair even once. This was not the secret lover. This was a fool falling for Dick's charms, probably someone involved with a crime.

Ugh, so dull.

Jason crossed his arms stubbornly "I can get a date. I'm just busy."

"Doing what? Reading romance novels?" Steph laughs. Jason opens his mouth to yell at her, but the receptionist hands Dick a golden key that the eldest Wayne pockets. He strides out of the apartment complex, hands in his pocket and whistling joyfully.

The Wayns put away their binoculars, and Bruce carefully peels out of their parking spot. They keep a nice distance away from Dick as he scrolls around the stores, stopping every once in a while to admire a display before he sits on a bench, hand still inside the pocket with the key.

A person wearing a trench coat and thick sunglasses approaches the bench, sitting on the far end of it and not looking in Dick's direction. The van collectively gasps.

Despite the disguise, they can tell just who it is.

"Tatior," Jason hisses between clenched teeth as Duke slides a sealed brown package across the bench towards Dick. In return, the eldest places the key on the bench, back top, and strives away from the bench. Duke waits a few minutes before he stands, walking in the opposite direction of Dick, hand sliding out to grab the key nearly undetectable.

"Why does Duke need an apartment key? And one that was snuck to him," Tim asks, watching the two siblings walk away from each other as though they were strangers. "What's he up to?"

" We only have time for one family mystery today," Bruce answers, turning the wheel to the left and continuing to follow Dick. "I have dinner plans with Selina later."

Duke pulls out a red wig and slides off his coat. Underneath is a punk rock outfit, complete with spikes, the coat he throws into the trash and clicks his boots. Four-inch heels pop out from his shoes, and Duke struts out of sight.

Tim leans against the windows, face and palms against the glass, eyes wide. "Wait. Wait. I have so many questions. B, turn around!"

"Dinner plans, Tim!"

"But B!"

Damian points. "Look! Richard is twirling his hair! The harlot draws near."

Steph laughs, patting Tim's back, who is straining hard to open the door. Thankfully, Bruce was quick enough to press the child lock. "I love the way you talk, Dames. It's like a period piece villain escaped the TV."

"Thank you, Brown. I enjoy your existence as well." Damian smiles, pressing the binoculars against his face. "Oh."

Bruce's grip on the wheel tightens. He had chosen to stay really far behind Dick once the man had walked into a narrow street, making it harder to blend into the traffic. "What is Damian?"

"You will not like it, Father," Damian says lowly. Behind him, Steph and Tim also reach for their spying gear. Jason and Cass were grimacing from the back seat, one taking pictures and the other working on getting the listening device's antenna out the crack of the window to aim at Dick.

Bruce's knuckles turn white as he steeled his resolve. "Go on. I can take it. What do you see?"

"It's Danny Fenton." Tim, Steph, and Damian all say at the same time. "The person he is dating in secret is Danny Fenton."

Bruce felt his heart stop. "The man who makes bread in the shape of hero logos?"

"Yeah. Otherwise known as "The Happy Baker," Steph says gravely. "The only Gothamite who is unreasonably happy without drugs or Joker venom."

"I once saw him making up songs while setting out a display of animal-shaped bread. He rhymed Gotham with awesome." Tim practically spits. "I should have known. All those animals were circus-themed. The elephants were incredibly tasty."

"You bought some!?"

"Excuse me for being hungry B!"

Damian slaps Bruce's arm aggressively. "Father! Father! Richard is getting on one knee."

"WHAT?!"

Jason pressed one hand over his headphones and attempted to listen closer before his eyes widened. "Wait! It's not a real marriage. Dick's investigating a possible trafficking ring, who been using Gotham baking supplies as a cover. He wants Danny to help him infiltrate the front by pretending to be baking husbands!"

"He just asked him to get married," Jason reported, much to the horror of the general van. Cass' camera starts clicking aggressively, either to capture the moment or have something to hang over Dick's head and force him to call off his marriage.

It's hard to tell with her perfectly impassive expression.

"Oh, thank the gods." Bruce breathes, only to have Steph ruin the moment.

"They're frenching right now."

"Oh, come on!"

"This is fun," Cass says over Bruce, swearing under his breath. "We should spy on each other as a group more often."

"Can we find out what Duke is up to next? The heels will haunt me until I know everything." Tim pipes up.

Damian, Tim, and Steph do not lower their binoculars even though they are close enough that they become a nuisance rather than helpful. He hasn't seen them so engaged in a family outing in a long time. "Yeah, we can spy on Duke next."

There is a moment of silence as Bruce considers the request before he merges lanes. In doing so, they drive by the kissing couple, too caught up in each other to notice the people staring at them through spying gear.

"You're the best adoptive dad ever!" Tim cheers as the rest of the kids let out whoops. Fenton's ears twitch, breaking the kiss with Dick to look right at them over their eldest shoulder.

Bruce slams a foot on the pedal the second Cass starts yelling, "Go go go! He saw us!". They peel away, screaming while Dick throws them a finger, and Fenton laughs silently.

The happy little freak.

[eiralunaire]

Here are some headcanons of Damian Wayne deeply in love with a curly brown-haired girl who is completely dense for romance.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

1. Damian Wayne and his unrequited (or just misunderstood?) love

- Damian is intense in everything, and love is no exception. His love for her is deep, serious, and with absolute devotion. He is not the type to be carried away by whims, but when he chooses someone, it is forever.

- From the first moment he met her, something about her intrigued him. Her curly hair that seemed to have a life of its own, her strong but at the same time absent-minded character, her way of seeing the world without giving importance to other people's glances.

- When he realized that he was in love, it was a hard blow. He did not want to accept that his heart was beating faster for her, that his thoughts revolved around their interactions, no matter how minimal they were.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

2. She's Dense and He's Frustrated

- Damian tries to seduce her in his own way: protecting her in combat, making sure she eats well, silently walking her home, staring at her intently... but nothing works because she just doesn't notice.

- He invites her to train with him, hoping she'll notice that he only offers that level of closeness to people he cares about. She sees it as just another training session.

- When he gives her gifts—subtle but thoughtful things like a rare book or a weapon with her name engraved on it—she simply thanks him without suspecting the meaning.

- If another person tries to flirt with her and she doesn't notice, Damian nearly explodes in frustration. "How can you be so oblivious?" he thinks every time he sees her interact with someone without picking up on the romantic intent.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

3. Damian Discovers Her Inexperience

- At some point, he realizes that he's never been in a relationship and has never experienced romance in any form. When he processes it, his arrogant side is flattered: I'll be her first in everything.

- This makes him even more possessive and protective. No one else has the right to teach him what love, desire or affection is.

- It also makes him more patient (albeit with effort). If she's never felt something like this, he can't expect her to understand it right away. So, he changes tactics: he starts getting closer, touching her subtly (a hand on her back, fixing a loose curl), looking at her in a way that even she starts to notice that something is wrong.

- But, inside, his mind is in chaos: How is it possible that someone so intelligent is so blind to this?

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

4. His First Kiss (Or How Damian Has to Take the Initiative)

- In a moment of frustration, when she still doesn't understand his intentions, Damian just does it. He kisses her.

- He does it with determination, with the purpose of making clear what he feels.

- As they pull away, he stares at her and, in his deep, serious tone, says, "Now tell me you don't understand."

- She's shocked. She'd never considered it because, well, she never thought someone like him would be interested in her like that.

- From there, she starts to see him in a different way. Her heart beats faster when he's around, his gazes feel more intense. And for the first time, she understands what Damian has been trying to tell her all along.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

5. Damian As A Partner (Because He'll Obviously Win Her Heart)

- Once he's in a relationship with her, he's still intense, but there's a change: he's more patient, softer, but just as protective and jealous.

- He's the kind of partner who watches her like she's his entire universe, who remembers every detail about her, who makes sure she never has any doubts about what she means to him.

- And every time she, with her absent-minded nature, still fails to grasp something obvious, he just sighs and thinks, "How did I ever fall in love with someone so blind..."

- But in the end, he doesn't care. Because she's his, and he'll never let her go.