#dc comics oneshots

[happyimagines]

DC Comics: Dick Grayson/Reader

This was not requested, but either way I hope you like it!

There was a crack in the curtains wide enough to let in a stream of sunlight. And that stream hit me right in the face. I put a hand up to block the light and groaned at the pain in my chest. The previous night my chest was met with flying feet. While there weren’t any major injuries, there was still some nasty bruising.

My back was pressed against Dick’s bare chest and his warm breath hit the back of my neck. His arm was draped over my waist keeping me close to him. Carefully, I rolled over and came face to face with him. Despite the fact that he sustained some rough injuries, he slept soundly, his breathing even.

The two of us got in late, or early, since it was morning when we got in. After our rough patch ups, the two of us were tired and passed out in his room. Under normal circumstances, Dick would have gone out on patrol with one of his brothers. But since I was in Gotham rather than Metropolis, I volunteered.

~~~

“Hold still,” I told Dick as it tried to clean the wound on his back. There was a gravel embedded in his skin and a knife had slashed him. The slash wasn’t deep or too concerning, but it would better to clean it out. There was a clink I pulled out another piece from his shoulder. We both were sitting on the floor of his bedroom taking care of each other.

“Are you done?” Dick asked looking over his shoulder at me. There were bags under his eyes and they were becoming glassy.

“You keep moving, of course I’m not done.” I chided.

“It hurts.”

“I know.” I yawned and winced at the pain at my mouth. While Dick got stabbed in the back, I received hits to the front: the chest and lip.

“Okay,” Dick turned around to face me and gently took my chin to lift my head. “Let’s see that lip and you can give my back a break.” Dick sucked his teeth when he saw how bruised and busted it was.

“Aside from the lip, there’s a bruise under your eye, but it doesn’t look like anything is broken. Your eyes, they’re still pretty.” Dick smiled and I rolled my eyes.

“Just take of my lip, please.”

“Only because you said please.” Dick smiled and shorted the gap between us and gently kissed me careful not to hurt me. I winced. “Sorry,”

“It’s fine,” I assured him. I put my hand behind him where my cloth with rubbing alcohol was sitting in a bowl. I closed the gap between us again, this time as a distraction to clean a wound I noticed on his shoulder.

“OW!” Dick pulled away, his bright blue eyes wide in shock and betrayal.

“I didn’t notice you got hit in the shoulder!” I grabbed his shoulder and turned him so I could get a better look.

“It’s fine, let me check on you,” He moved my hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing the scrapes I accumulated over the night. I laughed but couldn’t help feel fuzzy at the touch. The two of us spent some more time on the floor as Dick helped clean and dress more of my wounds. In between each dressing, Dick pressed a kiss to my head leaving me lightheaded.

“I think I’m good, how about you get in bed, and I’ll put a bandage on your back.”

“You could’ve just told me to get into bed,” Dick smirked. I rolled my eyes and let him help me to my feet. He raised his arms over his head in a stress, and then his face twisted in pain.

“Go,” I gestured for him to get into the bed and waited for him to lie down on his stomach. I smiled and walked over with bandages and some tape. Without shifting the bed room much, I knelt next to Dick, careful not to breathe too deep.

“How’s your chest?” Dick asked, his voice half muffled by his pillow.

“It hurts, the painkillers kicked in, but I’m going to be bruised for days.”

“I can imagine,” He kissed as I lay the bandages down and smoothed them over.

Once everything was secure, I lay down next to Dick. He smiled and draped an arm over my chest keeping me close to him.

~~

Careful not to move the bed, I gently slid out and made my way to the bathroom. Once I was finished, I opened the door and saw Dick laying on his stomach on his phone. His hair over the night had fallen on his forehead and was falling in his eyes.

“Hey,” I said lying next to him.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” He propped himself up on his elbow.

“Rough, but I’ve been worse. You?”

“Rough, but nothing this can’t fix,” The bed shifted as Dick put a hand on the other side of my body so that he hovered over me. Slowly, he kissed me. Before I could deepen the kiss, I pushed him away.

“Go brush your teeth,” I told him.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, otherwise I’m not kissing you.” I smiled as the bed shifted and Dick made his way to the bathroom. He returned back quickly and lay next to me the same way as before.

“See, minty fresh.” Dick pecked my lips in proof.

With a laugh, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. Then someone knocked on the door.

“We know you guys are awake! Do you want breakfast?”

[robintherobiner]

@emperorsfoot made me come up with a really funny idea. (sorry about the tag i can get rid of it if you want :3 )

AU where Tim sees Bruce not dealing with his grief very well after losing Jason, so he googles ways to calm down, and instead of heading to the manor and telling Bruce he needs a Robin, Tim just hands him a joint.

"You to chill the fuck out, Bruce. Batman is supposed to be Gothams protector, you can't do that if you're beating up criminals to the point of permanent injuries for an offence as little as stealing food. So, take a chill pill. Or, actually. i didn't get you any pills but i can if you want-"

Boom. Instead of gaining another Robin, Batman gains a dealer, who doesn't accept cash, but instead counts 'nights without brutal beatings' as payment.

Within three months time, Tim is fully leaning into the act and uses 90's movies as his point of reference for how drug dealers should look, sound, and act. Goodbye Bristol Boy, meet T-Dawg.

[sharkksee]

A LITTLE DEATH !

──── Damian Al Ghul x Reader. 571 words.

Living after dying was too expensive a price that everyone avoided, because anyone would not be able to continue or repent when the effects of madness came. Everyone who has ever been revived in that well may never be the same again, Damian knew this very well, he has seen it with his own eyes.

The Lazarus Pit was too dangerous. They could use it on soldiers to keep the League of Shadows standing, not use it on loved ones. Using the grave of someone you love is like a death note delivered in front of the devil, on shaking knees. But the loneliness, the guilt, accumulated on him.

He let your inert body sink into the waters, freeing your death to the forces that his grandfather abused. It was a nightmare to see you like this, reminding him that he couldn't save you.

How did he fail like this? He is the heir of the Al Ghul, the blood of the deaths of his origins wells up in his veins. How did your death pass over him?

He can't allow it. No. He forbids you, in life and soul, to agonize in his presence, to abandon him and release him. You have to be with him, he won't let you even fall into the arms of death.

His eyes move over you, as he is always very curious about you. He is fascinated by your body, your curves, and the way the water covers your contours so softly on your fatal wounds. The gaze lingers on your soft, kissable lips, and he longs for the taste of your return. He wants to taste the sweetness of your lips with his. He longs for you, because he needs you. Damian will have wealth, soldiers, weapons, blood. But not having you is like a curse.

Soft, slow breathing is heard. The little chest goes up and down, in and out, in and out. But he doesn't move, not even a muscle, while he's listening to your every heartbeat from the edge of the Lazarus Pit.

Your body begins to react to the effects of the immortal waters, and he looked at you serenely. His hands clenched into knuckles, wishing for your own soul to be saved. Your fingers begin to move, and your body reacts, wanting to escape the waters as soon as you opened the eyes that Damian had loved so much from beneath the waters.

He gently lifts you into his arms and lifts you out of the water, feeling the living heat radiating from your body. He looks at you, intently, attentive to everything about you as he wraps his arms around your body tightly, not wanting you to escape from him.

“Beloved,” Damian whispers, his voice a hoarse but reassuring whisper. He feels your heartbeat. Oh, God. Your heart is beating, your lungs are breathing, your blood is reviving. He smiles slightly, noticing that you have calmed down from the waters and understand every part of what happened.

“I won't let you go… Again,” Damian whispers, almost to himself, holding you tighter, burying himself in your shoulder.

He can sense that you are agitated, your mind processing your return to life, wanting to ask. But the simple, cold gaze of those emerald orbs warn you to remain silent, like before you lost your life.

“I forbid you to leave me again.” He hissed, his breath now hitting your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He can't lose his favorite toy.

[etfrin]

⤷❝NSFW Alphabets | Jason Todd ❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: may the world know I have a horrible crush on this man and dive into this post <3

⇢☾Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader

⇢☾A/N: this was self indulgent so be aware!

| masterlist | bc: @cafekitsune

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

— you'll probably have to teach him about aftercare because he never had anything long-term (just flings) after he's aware though, he will bring you water (because your throat will be sore as fuck from screaming his name), sometimes draw a bath if he was particularly rough but usually, he would just cuddle you while his cock is still buried inside of you.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

— his thighs! He has noticed the way you stare at his bulge and his thighs whenever he sits (manspreads) more often than not he has you riding his thigh.

he does like your hands the most, your hand is like a bridge for both of you to be closer. you show him so much affection with your hands, like holding his hand or pinching his cheeks, stroking his hair. He loves it.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

— he cums anywhere, you are just a blank canvas. Would cum on your thighs, boobs, face, and anywhere, he loves seeing you completely debauched and marked.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

— he likes it when you beg, when you can't think because of the pleasure and you're trying to push him away as tears fall from your eyes, it's his favorite thing to deny you. He denies you to cum, he denies you to stay quiet, and he loves to say no to you and hear you whine.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

— Oh, he knows what he's doing. He lies about his body count (not that one) because he doesn't want to put you off but boy, he knows what he's doing.

F= Favorite position

— Doggy style, and mating press. Loves to have you on all fours, sometimes even making you crawl to him, he's so amused when you obey and he's so close to cumming inside his pants from the sight. And mating press because it just hits the right spots of your walls, making you scream that the neighbors have given up complaining about the noise, learning to soundproof their walls instead.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

— yeah, he is goofy though only if it's before patrolling or beating someone's ass, like early in the mornings or something. he would be all giggly and whispering some jokes (with a huge amount of dark humor) while sliding into your cunt and fucking you into oblivion.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

— it isn't wild down there but he doesn't trim as regularly as he should, but he has good hygiene though, it's just hair for him.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

— he's so rough and filthy. Sometimes forgets about his strength and gets so cocky when he sees the bruises all over your body (of course he kisses them better) there are moments he's soft and gentle but it's rare (so cherish it)

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

— yeah he does. Often in the shower or some dark ass alley right after kicking some ass and he can't get home fast enough to fuck the adrenaline out with you. It doesn't happen regularly though, with enough practice he can get to his apartment fast enough that he can pin you wherever it's the closest and have you, and most of the time you both shower together more often than not so shower sex <3

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

— breath play (receiving and giving), pain kink (receiving), pulling his hair, scratching his back, biting him hard, I beg of you, he would just lose all control, whatever sanity he has will go to hell. PRAISE KINK (good boy™), he would fucking melt if you tell him how good he is, how deep his cock reaches, and how much you love it and love him. He eats up every time, it means so much to him even outside of sexual intimacy. Degradation (giving) all of the classics: slut, cumdumpster, whore etc. Dumbfication, how he loves it when you can't process all of the insults (and occasional praises of how good your pussy is to him) and the only thing you do is moan his name mindlessly. Overstimulation because of his stamina he can make you cum several times a night, often losing count after the fourth. Dacryphilia: this one goes hand in hand with overstimulation and dumbfication.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

— anywhere. ANYWHERE. He doesn't care if he gets caught, he can and will fuck you almost anywhere. An alleyway, closets, library, church, ANYWHERE, the sky's the limit for him.

M= Motivation (things that make them tick/turn-ons)

— Domestic acts. Anything like cleaning the house, cooking him meals, washing the dishes. He helps of course, and does his side of the chores but he never had the stability of domesticity before. He never thought he would and he never thought he would enjoy such simplicity in his life.

So sometimes it was just too much for him not to bend you over the kitchen counter, or the dinner table, or the couch, the pinning you on the wall near the bookshelf you were rearranging.

N= No (turn offs or absolutely won’t do)

— knife play & blood play. He doesn't want to hurt you in any sort of matter, sometimes he is rough but it doesn't mean he makes you bleed or would ever want to make you bleed.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

— he fucking loves blowjobs, change my mind. I dare you. He's so mean about it too, fucking your face without care. He gripped your head, keeping it in place as his cock hits the back of your throat with every thrust. You gag around his dick, saliva covering your chin, your eyes glossed with pleasure and tears is a bonus that makes the act so much better.

He wasn't big on giving head before. Well, that was before you, now he could spend hours between your thighs just to be a nasty tease whenever he needs to teach you a lesson. He would languidly lick your cunt without a care, it doesn't matter that your juices are staining the sheets, he's gonna be at it for hours. It gives him a sense of peace and yet again you crying because of the overstimulation (which wasn't the mission, he's just pussy drunk) and broken moans are just a plus.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

— fast af. The sex usually happens after his night activities are done so the adrenaline is still pumping through his body and he has to let out somehow… he has some serious stamina so he can last a while, sometimes you might even black out just to wake up with him still going at it.

"Sorry, baby," he gasps, his cock still splitting your body. His thrusts seems sloppier than before but it was perhaps because of how fucking wet your cunt was with both of your cum that made the glide seem so slick.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your neck. "Am close," he promised, his hips snapping fast and hard, making you unable to think, unable to protest against the overstimulation you have grown to love so much. "Just one more, baby," he lies, as his cum fills you but his cock is still hard and throbbing into your cunt.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

— Oh! He loves quickies, he's the type to sneak into your work and then take you to a closet or just a room where there is no one and have his way with you real quick before you have to head back to work, making sure his cum stays inside. There were so many times you were nearly caught, it was sheer luck that you haven't. He doesn't do it very often, only when he misses you too much, sometimes y'all don't even fuck, just make out or huddle together on the floor of the storage room of your workplace, munching on cookies you bought from the office cafeteria.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

— he would be so open to anything you want to try, and would rarely say no to you. He is very experimental.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

— well like, he's a vigilante who fights crime so like there's no limit to that stamina especially when he is frustrated or anything, expect call out of work because you won't be able to walk. He can easily last a lot of rounds.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

— he would be so game into using toys on you. Vibrators, dildos, and anything else just to be a bastard to you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

— he's a tease, A VERY BIG TEASE. Like even when he's fucking you, sometimes he would go extra slow to make you feel his length sliding in and out of your sensitive walls before snapping his hips back into you like an animal. He's kinda mean about it, feeling delighted when you whine about him changing his pace so abruptly.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

— he isn't shy to let out his groans, mostly dirty talks, degrading you and making comments about how slutty your pussy is, taking his cock so well like it was made for it (it was) When you scratch his back or tug at his hair, he would let out a whine, praise him and he would like out a breathy moan. He is embarrassed when he realizes it but who the fuck cares?

W= Wild card (random sin canon of any sort)

– Fucked you in the training room once in the Titans Tower, not giving a fuck about the cameras that were recording everything he was doing to you. Dick lectured him for an hour straight for this behavior, did he care? No, but he did get an apartment though, so he could fuck you in his training room.

Oh, he would also take the tape that recorded everything, showing it to you with a proud look on his face.

"Look at you, such a dumb slut on my cock," he said, as moaning sounds came out of the phone. "Dick saw that, saw me fucking you good, does that get you off, Princess? Want me to fuck you in front of Dick next?"

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

— HE'S BIG AND THICK, sorry, yeah 8 inches, and he's pretty girthy, always stretching your pussy to its limits. Uncut, he was a street rat after all.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

— it's pretty high, he's so touch-starved, and despite the constant hugs, hand holding, and petting (i wanna play with his hair so badly) sometimes all he needs is a deeper physical connection.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

— he won't be a quick sleeper, even after it's late hours and you're sleeping soundly beside him, the urge to go out and fight would always eat him up, he loved the rush of it even with its risk but then having you in his arms, your head on his chest, he liked this even more and would force himself to get a few hours of sleep. He liked this more than another villain, another fight.

[lili-of-the-dream]

representation of me (im)patiently waiting for morpheus fanfictions to emerge after finishing the whole season in one day:

[honey-milk-depresso]

⋙l o a d i n g…

loading completed!✓ …━━━━━☆

┏ ⋙fries- Tim Drake x Reader┛

♧…━━━━━☆

“Hey Tim.”

The young boy with black curtain bangs looked towards you, sipping on his milkshake as the two of you sat quietly at a fast food diner in the heart of Gotham at night, waiting for the rain to pass as neither of you brought an umbrella.

“Hm?”

You smirked mischievously, twirling a crisp, golden fry between your fingers. “Try stealing a fry from me.”

Tim blinked, taking in your words for a few minutes before he raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m bored.”

The boy rolled his eyebrows, huffing a bit as he shook his head, although he wasn’t really annoyed. Just amused.

“Fine, whatever. You’re a weirdo though,” he teased, smiling a bit as you grinned.

He casually tried to intercept your fingers to take the fry from you, but of course, you lifted your hand up to prevent him from snatching it from you.

His hand followed you up as you moved your hand down. Then right. Then left. Then diagonally to the right again. It looked rather comical to see the young CEO of Wayne Enterprises trying to take a fry from a gremlin who asked for it.

Tim irked slightly, pouting. “Hey now…”

You smiled cheekily. “Who said I’ll make it easy to steal it from me?”

Tim huffed, standing up slightly as he bend his torso forward in your direction and tried a little harder to take the fry from you. Why did he even bother trying to do this with you? God knows why, but now with a goal in mind, he’s not going to stop until he gets the fry from you.

After a while of moving from left , right, up, down, front, back…

you just ate the fry, smiling childishly to yourself as you imagined the annoyed look on his face.

You didn’t take into account though, that trying to take the fry from you became mechanical to him. So mechanical he subconsciously leaned his face onto yours and kissed you to “take the fry from you”.

The two of you blushed profusely seconds later, with Tim immediately pulling back when he taste the slight taste of sweetness from your milkshake and saltiness from the fry you ate, as you tasted the sweetness of his own milkshake and mild spiciness from him eating his chili-dipped fry he ate long ago.

“I… er…” Tim stuttered, blush not dying down.

He didn’t know why, but he liked it.

And he kinda hoped you liked it too…

[stareintoyourpicture]

|| 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑. ★

⋆ pairing ··· dick grayson x gn!reader

⋆ summary ··· no matter how desperate he gets, he can't help but stop and take you in

⋆ contents ··· dick being utterly in love with reader and telling you allll about it

⋆ warnings ··· 18+, heavily implied nsfw, teasing, dirty talk?, lotsa praise, fluff if you squint hard enough

⋆ word count ··· 291

⋆ notes ··· haven't written smut in a hot minute but i had a lot of fun,,, it's dick grayson what more can i say

✫・゜・。.

“Don’t you ever get tired of sitting all pretty like that?” Dick teased.

He knew you were doing the complete opposite of sitting pretty. The euphoric crash of your orgasm was still reverberating through your limbs, causing you to squirm and shake in its aftermath. A thin film of sweat covered the surface of your skin, even the slightest sigh from Dick sending a chill down your spine. You were a mess – his mess.

Dick’s smug face came up from between your thighs, his tongue licking what remained of you from his lips. You opened your mouth, making a weak attempt to speak before his lips passionately pressed against yours.

“You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

His voice murmured, husky and low as he spoke next to your ear.

“Do you know what you do to me?”

His hands tracing your waist hushed any more attempts at speaking. He was careful, calculated. The whisper of his hands dragged up from your hips and over your ribcage, methodically caressing your form.

“I can’t wait anymore, baby.”

Did he know what he did to you?

As he pulled back, your legs went weak in his grasp. He stared, gazing down at you through a thick lavender haze as if you were his finest work. His muse. His art.

“You ready?”

And there was that certain glint in his eye, a bright spark that could only be seen when he was hovering over you – it showed you just how badly he wanted you, no matter how much he longed to take his time.

“Can you be gentle?” You bashfully requested, watching as his hands took careful hold of your thighs. He was always careful with you, always…

“You know I always am.”

Always gentle.

[psychostxr]

𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 | close one

PAIRING. wally west x female! reader

WORD COUNT. 0.6k

WARNINGS. suggestive, wally and (y/n) are of age

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc.            (l/n) - last name e.g. cole, thomas, etc.

"You're such a cheat!" you exclaim, twisting your body to lay on your stomach across the floor in your bedroom.

Wally sits beside you, his grip on the game controller tightening.

Wally laughs. "I think you're just bad as this game."

Pouting, you watch the redhead beat your character, his fingers pushing buttons at the speed of sound. Suddenly smirking, you lift yourself, kneeling beside Wally. His gaze is locked on the TV screen, ignoring your stare. Lifting your chin, you move closer to Wally's ear and lightly nibble.

"Aah!"

Wally groans at the sensation, dropping the controller from his hands. He gently pushes you off him, watching you with a face as red as his hair.

You giggle. "You're cute when you're flustered."

Crawling over Wally, you straddle his waist. His hands trail over your sides, resting on your hips.

"You're a sore loser. You know that?"

"You're the one that's dating this sore loser."

"Touché."

Your hands cup Wally's cheeks, and you pull him toward you into a kiss. Your eyes close peacefully, your tongue tracing his lower lip for permission. Wally's eyes flutter close, allowing himself to get lost in your taste.

Wally tugs you closer by the waist as the kiss gets more heated, more sensual, needing to feel you closer each second. The hand on your waist suddenly disappears, slipping under your shirt to trace nonsensical patterns on your skin.

Pulling away from Wally, you grab the ends of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it on the floor. Wally's breath hitches at the sight of you, his gaze flickering back and forth from your face and the valley of your breasts.

"You like what you see?" you tease.

Wally looks up at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"And what if I do?"

"Maybe you'll get a closer look."

Reaching to unclasp your bra, you nor Wally hear the keys jingling in the front door and the woman that walks inside. Her heels clink against the tiled floor, dropping her bag on the counter.

"(y/n), honey, I'm back!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh my god!" you whisper, scrambling off Wally's lap.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be home?"

"Well, she obviously changed her mind."

"(y/n), are you here?" you hear your mother call.

Grabbing your shirt, you quickly put it back on.

"Yeah, I'm in my room!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Wally questions.

"Take out my workbooks. Make it look like we were studying," you whisper.

Wally grabs a few books from your bag, scattering them on your bed while hiding your gaming equipment. Your mother's footsteps creak against the stairs as you tidy yourself to look like you didn't come out of a makeout session. The door to your room opens, and you and your boyfriend quickly sit on the bed, watching your mom enter the room with surprise.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had company?"

Wally waves at your mom. "Hi, Miss (l/n)."

"Hello, Wally." She looks between the two of you, glancing at the books on your bed. "Are you two studying?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, internally cringing at your keen tone. "Wally was just trying to teach me science. You know how smart Wally is."

"Well, I'll leave you to go back to studying," your mother says, "It's nice to see you again, Wally."

"You too, Miss (l/n)."

The moment your mother closes the door behind her, you fall back against the bed, hand clutching your chest.

"That was a close one," you mutter.

Wally looks down at you. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a problem."

You sit up. "What?"

"She knows."

Tilting your head in confusion, Wally points at your books. Eyes scanning the books, you realize there's no science book in sight.

"Shit."

© psychostxr — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[freakingholland]

Lovebirds times two - YJ!Dick Grayson x fem!reader

A/N: Is this another fluffy fic that contributes to the “Dick Grayson looks gorgeous and can have any woman” trope? Maybe! (yes) But we deserve happy Dick alongside happy Spitfire, okay? I’ll write something agst-ish some time I promise!

Warnings: not proofread! fluffy af, a couple of swear words, slightly suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw. If I missed anything, please let me know!

Summary: Heroes do get to attend weddings every once in a while. It's especially exciting, when it's a dear friends' ceremony.

Word count: 1.4K +

If you enjoyed my work, you could buy me coffee here: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

_

“I love these two with my entire heart but HOLY FUCK— I really don’t feel like getting ready today…” you whined sheepishly as you were in the middle of putting moisturizer over your freshly washed face. You and your significant other were in the middle of your preparations for your dear friends’ wedding. It was Artemis and Wally’s big day.

“Don’t even get me started. I told you we could get somebody to get your makeup and hair done. You can’t complain now.” Dick responded with slight frustration in his voice. It was obvious that he wasn’t actually mad at you, just not necessarily content with the fact that despite being in a committed relationship for so many years you still had trouble with making use of the benefits that came along with dating one of the Wayne’s sons.

“No, no don’t get me wrong babe I would appreciate that, it’s just— I feel a bit lazy today, wish I could just snap my fingers and get ready magically. If you know what I mean.”

“—plus, I don’t trust people with my face and hair, being comfy in my own skin is my top priority for today. I can’t wait to get there and have fun with our fam. I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.”

Dick walked over from the sink where he was previously finishing brushing his raven, still slightly wet and disheveled bangs. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his hips as he had just gotten out of the shower. The entire bathroom smelled like his strongly, yet freshly scented cosmetics. Seeing Richard in his work uniform and in his Nightwing suit is one thing, but seeing your partner clean and well-rested in the comfort of your shared apartment is another thing. Regardless of your lengthy relationship you still felt butterflies circling around in your stomach at this rare sight.

He wrapped his arms tightly around your hips and rested his chin in the crook of your neck, tickling you with his hair.

“Me too hun.” He responded while exhaling deeply against your bare, moist back. His warm embrace prolonged for another couple of seconds. You could easily tell Dick also felt sentimental about being home and being able to enjoy normal life. Whatever normal life means.

“Kay- I’ll let you do your thing now.” Before leaving the bathroom to start dressing up Dick took your face in his calloused hands and planted a quick kiss on your forehead. Dick crinkled his nose.

“God you’re pretty.” He was shaking his head on his way to your bedroom.

With a genuine smile on your face, you continued with the preparations.

*

You did not let slight sluggishness take over your body and you managed to get ready within an hour. Dick didn’t have the opportunity to see your outfit yet, after he had finished getting ready, he slumped on the sofa to watch TV and kill some time as he patiently waited for you to get ready. You walked into your living room and as soon as your partner heard your shoes click on the floor, he quickly turned to examine your look for the festive night.

“Oh wow- love. You look fantastic.” He quickly got up from the sofa to take a closer look. He soaked up the joy that you brought him with just your groomed appearance and a genuine smile, while eyeing you up and down with a huge grin plastered across his unwearied face.

Dick was wearing a black tuxedo paired with a white button up shirt, a black bowtie, and black oxfords. He also sported a watch with a black leather strap.

“You don't look too bad yourself sir…”

“—who am I kidding, GOD I love your hair! It’s so shiny!”

He chuckled at your answer and swept a strand of his thick bangs to the side.

“I think we should speed up this whole wedding thing and actually rent out a venue, you know?” you continued. After you said that your and Dick’s eyes laid on your engagement ring.

Dick sincerely cares about your wishes when it comes to retaining of your personal aesthetic, it took him a couple of visits at different jewelry shops in Gotham to choose a proper engagement ring. Despite knowing you well he still needed someone’s assistance - or rather mental reassurance that he’s making the right choice. That’s why Dick invited Bruce to participate in the important opting. They ended up choosing a white gold band with a small emerald-cut sapphire.

Talk about cheesiness. But the said cheesiness is one of the reasons why your bond was and is so strong. Your lives don’t stray from the hardships and sorrow in spite of the additional, demanding chapter that is your partner’s and your service as a literal heroes. Both Dick and you have your problems and traumas, but the two of you putting in the effort to communicate well, be patient and to keep your spirits up is what works well - as your relationship’s binder.

“And my hair is all that it takes for you to say that?”

“—I’m starting to get worried that we might be together just because you think I’m so fucking sexy.”

“We’re also together because of your humbleness…” Your answer caused Dick to roll his eyes. The grounding remark didn’t stop him from giving you a peck on the lips. As your lips parted, he threw a quick glance at his watch and slowly started going towards your kitchen. He went to grab a set of keys that was lying on the island, as well as a previously prepared bag of necessities such as band aids and emergency trainers.

“Are we ready my beautiful lady?” he offered you his arm in a jokingly chalant manner. You quickly grabbed your clutch bag and a coat.

“Ummm, I think we are now.” After double checking if you have everything that both of you needed to comfortably celebrate among your dearest companions as well as your precious gift, you started walking towards the door of your apartment.

*

Your best friends’ wish was to get married in Gotham City regardless of it being your usual work location. The ceremony was set to take place in a small palace, close to the border of the city. When you had arrived at the scene it was drizzling, the air felt very humid and had a pleasant earthy scent. But said weather didn’t interfere with the charm of such a special evening.

After the lovely wedding ceremony everyone drove to a beautifully decorated restaurant. The tables looked very minimalistic, even so the entire place was filled with beige and light pink flowers – carnations, lilies, roses. Artemis’ effort really paid off because the place looked both elegant and warm. Partially because of a gentle glow that bathed the entire area.

The newlyweds were beaming with happiness. They looked physically relaxed now that the official part of the evening was over. They were making sure to spare some time for every single guest, whether it was to chat with them or to take a picture. Right before one of the hot meals you managed to catch them and take the two to the side, in order to give them their special gift.

Both of them teared up when you and Dick handed them a large oil painting of the pair, which was based on a photo from a trip that the four of you went on a couple of years ago.

“There is no way! You guys! That’s beautiful, I really don’t know what to say…,” said Wally. Artemis was so taken aback that she remained silent while her now husband continued his thanks. Their eyes were glistening with happy tears and that warmed your heart.

*

You twirled with a slight laugh escaping your lips. Dick’s strong arms quickly embraced your figure to keep you closer to his warm body.

“I’m so glad we chose that photo for the painting. They were in awe.”

“I was in awe when I saw you in that outfit. You’re right, I’m getting us a venue tomorrow.”

“And you laughed at me when I complemented your hair!” you playfully smacked Dick’s chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your faux mad expression. That was the Y/N that he fell in love with.

He slumped his shoulders to close the distance between you two as you softly swayed to the rhythm of a slower song.

“I’m so glad that I have you angel.” He leaned into your ear and whispered.

“Soon to be Mrs. Grayson. All mine.”

-

If you get the “god you’re pretty" reference I love you.

Stay whelmed xx

Tori

[shanniees]

— ?̸ Stress

Warning : sex, this will be a short oneshot, Bruce dominant, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, spanking, tie dolls.

Synopsis : Bruce returns to the mansion after a stressful night being Batman and fighting crime, so he comes to you to relieve his stress.

Note : My English is not my main language, so please forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

the way your gummy and wet walls are gonna stretch to take him, the way you’re gonna tighten around him like a vice as he whines and whimpers when he pumps into you.

— "Fuck, shit, you're so tight" — He grunted, the thrusts were going faster, his movements were so strong that you couldn't help but moan loudly from the pleasure that was overwhelming you, your moans echoing throughout the room. You hope Alfred or Damian doesn't hear your loud moans.

How did you get to this? Your husband now fucking you like he was a wild animal in heat, well that was because because he came to the manor with stress, entering the batcave. He had just arrived from an investigation, he still has not solved the case, and there are more missing people, it is only known that there is a murderer on the loose out there in Gotham.

He arrived so stressed that he literally threw his mask on the table and left the Batcave, just saying one something to Alfred — "No" — and he went to his shared room where you were, his wife, he needed you now.

—"Bruce, y-you're going too fast" — You stuttered but your voice was silenced when his lips crashed onto yours, swallowing all your words and moans from you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.You closed your eyes tightly, you couldn't do anything because your wrists were now over your head, tied with a scarf that he found in the room while he was fucking you.

— "Shhh, shut up" — he growled, his hand rose to slap one of your buttocks, you moaned loudly, arching your back upwards, you gasped, surprised by his act, you were blushing, small tears betrayed themselves in the corners of your eyes. — "Who is my little bitch, tell me? Tell me who you belong to" — He said while his thrusts were accelerating.

— "You! "I am yours my love!" — You moaned loudly as you climaxed, coming on his thick cock. Bruce smiled along with a moan of pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. He continued thrusting into you until he reach the climax.

He let out a grunt of pure pleasure, his fingers went to your center, gently rubbing your clit, you gasped and moaned, writhing beneath him as he pulled his cock inside of you.

Suddenly you felt Bruce's hand grab you, turning you back, leaving you on all fours and your pretty ass exposed to him, he couldn't help but give another spank towards that pretty ass of yours, making you moan. You opened your eyes, surprised to know what Bruce was going to do. — "Bruce w-wait that's going to hur-" — You couldn't finish the sentence when his cock slid hard into you, you screamed loudly as you felt his big cock in your little hole, it hurt a lot.

— "I'll make you moan my name all night" — He growled before starting to move.

[nia-jul]

LATE NIGHTS AND STAR-CROSSED MARGINS PT 2

Jason Todd, the most beautiful boy in your lecture, takes you out on a (maybe) coffee date.

college!au, fluff, pining, happy ending

——————————————————————

You and Jason Todd are walking down the corridors, hands just brushing past each other as your arms swing besides you.

You and Jason Todd are walking down the corridors. Jason Todd who had asked you to go get coffee, so you could study together, alone. Which you hoped was just a euphemism for ‘get to know and possibly date’, but you weren’t going to complain.

It feels childish. You’re acting like a ten-year-old with a crush, giddy with excitement while he stands oblivious next to you. Should you ask him where he’s taking you? That question feels too datey, too boyfriend-girlfriendy. Instead, you land on just keeping quiet. The silence lingers for a few seconds before he perks up.

“So. You like coffee?” His question is so obviously trying to break the ice, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Of course, I can’t live without it. And i haven’t had my fix today, so it’s a good thing we’re going.”

Jason laughs. “Right. I’m guessing this has something to do with you running so late?”

“Yeah. My friends and I stayed up late last night and ended up sleeping so late. I thought i’d set an alarm, but. I guess I didn’t.”

“Levine didn’t care, trust me. You’re one of his favourite students.”

You shake your head in denial, but Jason doubles down.

“No, seriously, you are. You’re smarter than half the people in there.”

“Says you. You hide all those smarts behind those good looks.”

Shit. You can almost feel the smirk on his face.

“You think I’m good looking?”

“Shut up.”

Jason laughs. He holds open the door for you, and you walk out of the building. It’s early, only one o’clock, and there's still a considerable amount of people milling about. It’s warm enough outside that there’s some studying in small groups on the grass, books and pens spread out in front of them. At least, you think they’re supposed to be studying. But with the sun shining as brightly as it was, you figure not a lot of work is getting done.

Jason walks you to the car park, and stops. You look around for a car, but there isn’t one. Instead, he stops in front of a motorcycle.

“And we’re here. This, this right here is my pride and joy.” He rubs the leather seat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Jason. I’m not getting on that.”

He looks slightly offended. “What? Why not?”

Your mouth gapes. “What do you mean why? Do you know how risky it is to ride a motorcycle? Like- My dads a doctor, you know. I’ve heard stories. About accidents.”

Jason tilts his head. He walks towards you, standing just a few inches in front of you. You have to look up to meet his eyes, he’s so tall. He smells like expensive cologne and something boyish, and you’re sure he’s close enough to feel the heat coming off your face.

“I’ll look after you, sweetheart. Promise.” He murmurs, voice rumbling deep in his chest.

You laugh shakily. Tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, if only for something to do.

“And besides,” He reaches behind him and grabs a helmet, “You can wear this. Keep that pretty head of yours safe.”

You scoff and move away before he can see how flustered you look. You bite your lip, anxiously looking at the bike.

“You’re sure this is safe?”

“Positive.”

You think for a moment. The things you do for good-looking men.

“Okay. Okay, fine, hurry up. We need to go before I think for a second and change my mind.”

He cheers and hands you the helmet. He gets on first, legs stretching over the bike, thighs resting against the seat. You curse under your breath, thankful the helmet is covering your face. You get on behind him. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how close you are. Your hands hover awkwardly.

“Uh, what do I hold onto?”

“My waist.”

Right. Of course it was his waist.

You reach over, arms meeting in front of his middle. You clasp your hands together and stay completely on top of where they rest, because you’re sure you’ve embarrassed yourself enough without touching his crotch.

“You ready?”

“No.”

The words barely leave your mouth before the engine revs, the bike rumbling beneath you. You screech, hands clenching his waist. You think you hear him laugh, but you can't ponder too much about that, or the feel of what you think might be a six-pack beneath his shirt, because he’s moving, and you think you’re about to fall off.

It’s loud, and the wind is making your clothes billow behind you, but it feels freeing, in an odd sort of way. The fear bleeds into adrenaline that fills your veins, and your screaming turns into cheers.

The ride ends all too quickly, and Jason parks at a café well-known enough around your campus. You hop off the bike, and he follows. You take off the helmet, laughing.

“That was amazing! Terrifying, but also amazing.”

Jason nods, taking the helmet out of your hands. His hair is dishevelled from the wind, cheeks flushed red. You don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

“I told you it would be fun.”

The two of you walk inside. He leads you to a table near the back, ushers you into the booth. You bring out your books, and he brings out his. You set up your things and he stands, tapping his fingers against the chair.

“What do you want to drink?” He asks.

“Hmm. A latte. With an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold order.”

He disappears, and you finally have time to freak out. You pull out your phone, frantically texting your friends. They explode on the group chat, and you giggle, the flurry of emojis and capital letters easing your nerves. Half of them think it's a date, the other half think it’s all friendly. You can’t decide who you agree with because Jason comes back with your drinks. You quickly turn your phone off and thank him for the drink. He nods at your phone.

“You look smiley. Who are you texting? A boyfriend?” He doesn’t make eye contact as he asks, eyes turned down to his glass.

“No, my friends. They’re just wondering where I am. No boyfriend.”

“Good.”

You raise an eyebrow and he shakes his head.

“Not like that. Just. Good your friends care, you know?”

It’s cute. He’s cute, you think, as the two of you study. He takes pictures of some of your annotations. You peek at his home screen, and see a picture of him and three other boys, all of them grinning apart from him, who's staring grumpily at the camera. You joke about Professor Levine’s long lectures, complain about the essay that you both haven’t started. It’s nice, to talk to someone who’s actually doing the subject you are. And someone’s who's so good at it. If his looks weren’t enough, Jason’s intellect might have to be the sexiest thing about him. He listens to your rambles and answers back with ones just as long. Definitely the best part about him.

After about an hour of that, you spend more time getting to know one another. You learn he has one older brother and two younger ones. He doesn’t linger on his family life too much, and you decide not to pry. He likes to workout (so it was a six-pack you’d felt earlier) and his favourite poet is Emily Dickinson. Which might’ve been enough for you to propose on the spot.

You finish off the last dregs of your latte and he downs his too. He ended up buying some snacks, and you learn that Jason Todd loves blueberry muffins. You glance at the time, and gape.

“Oh god, i gotta get home. I’ve got so much stuff to do tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll drop you.” There's a lilt of disappointment in his voice, and you try not to like it.

The ride back is just as fun as before, and this time you definitely don’t hold him tight enough to feel the line of his muscles beneath his shirt. He parks in the same place as before, and walks you to the door of your dorm.

“Well. This is me.” You sigh.

“Yep.”

The two of you pause for a second. You say your goodbyes, and go to enter. But you pause, just before your key slips in the lock.

The question you’re about to ask can go one of two ways, but you think you have to ask it. Your friends will kill you if you don’t, and you think you might too. You turn back to face Jason, who still hasn’t left.

“Jason, I have to ask. Was this, like. A friendly café revision session? Or was it. You know, something more.”

He tilts his head again. A curl falls across his eyes. His eyelashes are impossibly long, and they frame the bright brown eyes that always stare right into you.

“I’d like it to be a date. If you don’t mind.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god. Of course, I don’t mind.”

You shut your mouth, reigning in the rest of your ramble of how desperate you were to go out with him.

“Cool. I was going to ask you straight up, but I thought it might be a bit too forward.”

You huff a laugh. “It’s okay. I like forward.”

“Noted.” He pauses for a second. “Give me your phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

He falters a little at that, before straightening up and grabbing your phone. You will definitely be looking into that later. He opens your contacts and types in his number. He sends himself a text, and his phone buzzes.

“Alright. I’ll text you, and maybe we could go out again?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Damn you, Jason Todd.

You reach up and place a kiss on his cheek. It takes every ounce of your control not to kiss him properly, but you better save something for your other dates.

That night, you fall asleep with the taste of latte on your lips and the smell of Jason’s cologne in your head.

——————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE

part two 🙈 might make this into a series of oneshots, we’ll see! Hope you enjoy!

[happyimagines]

DC: Jason Todd/Reader

Based on the Wayne Family Adventure comic “Online” where Barbara found Jason’s online dating profile.

Author: Queen of Geeks

Hope you like it!

I stopped in the doorway of Barbara’s apartment when I heard her laugh. I let the door close behind me as I ventured inside with the takeout that she wanted. With Barbara’s laughing, it sometimes caused worry: was she laughing at a funny animal video, or was she laughing at a video of someone from the team doing something embarrassing.

“Hey Babs?” I called letting her know that I had arrived.

“Hey!” She replied. I set down our dinner on the table and made my way to the backroom where the screens were set up.

I stopped when I saw the familiar logo on the screen Barbara was looking at. And apparently, I swore loud enough for Barbara to tear her attention away from the screen. Behind her, I saw Jason on the screen.

“Wait what?” I moved closer to the desk and looked at the screen.

There were photos of Jason, some I hadn’t seen before, other I had. One was of him and Roy sitting on a ledge, and another of him working on his bike.

“Everything okay?” Barbara asked looking between me and the screen.

“Yeah, I thought it was something else.” I told her with a laugh.

“You mean this?” Barbara reached past me and clicked on another page pulling up my profile on Full Hearts.

My face grew warm as I looked at the attempt of a dating profile I made as a last ditch effort. Barbara smiled at me as I fumbled for an excuse.

“Yeah, so, you found my profile. Of course, you did.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “When did you find it?”

“Yesterday. I found Jason’s the day before.” Barb explained as she went into the kitchen for dinner. I followed after her and helped myself to dinner and sat at the table opposite Barbara. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not much to tell, I honestly want to meet someone, but in all fairness, the Gotham dating pool isn’t that great.” I sighed pushing my food around with my fork. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“You do realise that these are also location based, right?”

“Yeah, but so far I haven’t found Jason, so I’m assuming that he hasn’t found my profile.”

“If you want,” Barbara began before nodding to her computer room.

“Nope. Do not match me with Jason. If he finds out I’m on Full Hearts, he will be unbearable. More so than normal.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind, let me know.”

I checked my phone as I sipped my coffee and made my way to Wayne Manor. There were texts from Barbara from the last night after our conversation from dinner. The two of us talked after we had eaten and hung out before retiring for the night. I stood outside the manor door as my phone gave me a new notification.

A match on Full Hearts.

I opened up the app while taking a sip and gasped, choking on my coffee. As I coughed in attempt to clear my throat, the door opened. I coughed again and looked to see Alfred standing in the doorway.

“Good morning Alfred,” I coughed.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, have you seen Jason?”

“Alfred, if anyone needs me I’m going to find- (Y/N)!” Jason pushed past Alfred and stopped when he saw me.

“Hi, perfect timing.” I held up my phone.

“Yeah, perfect timing.”

Alfred left the two of us and I followed Jason back into the house. The two of us stood in silence for a moment thinking of something to say to one another.

“So, we matched on Full Hearts.” I broke the silence.

“I didn’t even realise you were on there until we matched.” Jason said.

“You matched us, right?”

“I thought you did.” Jason raised his eyebrows at me and then realisation dawned on us.

“Barbara.”

“When did she find your profile?” Jason asked.

“Two days ago. She told me that she found yours first. Look, we can unmatch and never speak about this again if you want.” I told him. Jason tilted his head and there was a confused look on his face.

“Oh, I didn’t want to unmatch.” He told me quietly. “I’m glad that Barbara did it for us.”

[shreeader]

I’ve Got You; Damian Wayne x Reader

Words: 1132

Pronouns: they/them

WARNINGS: blood, violence, hurt/comfort, some angst and then fluff

Summary: Reader is kidnapped and Damian comes to save them.

NOTE: Damian is aged up.

After what you could only assume was a couple of hours, a few guys came in. They were loud, rowdy, and presumably drunk. The light that they had brought in with them was painful to your eyes, which were used to the dark.

They’d beaten you. They did it again around what you assumed was the same time the next day. And the day after that.

The fourth day, they had finally given you a small cup of water and a small plate of food containing strawberries and sliced bread. The men laughed in such an annoying way as you scarfed down the food and downed the drink. One of the men, whose name had been mentioned to be Peter, took the paper plate and plastic cup from you when you finished.

You sat back and sighed, ready for the beating you were about to receive as you sat back against the stone walls. Yelling from outside of the room grabbed your attention, well as much as you could give in that scenario. The lack of sleep and the bloody that slowly seeps out of your wounds, through your torn clothing.

Metal hitting metal caught your hazy attention, and you could feel hope begin to swell in your gut. Gunshots started up as well and footsteps sounded throughout the hall outside of your room. You glanced at the men, who stared outside the door, weapons in their hands.

“Robin, let’s check down here.” The familiar voice of Red Hood made you tug on your restraints, especially at the mention of the younger hero.

Glancing at the men again, you noticed none of them were looking in your direction. You took in a shaky breath before yelling out. Eyes snapped in your direction and the men turned to you. One brought his knife down, catching the blade on your arm and slicing the skin.

A yelp left your lips as you curled away from him and then all you could hear was a body thump. Fighting took place in the background, and you peaked your eyes open to see Damian and Jason taking down the other men in the room.

Your eyelids felt heavy and your eyes stung with tears as you watched Jason knock out the last man. Damian's footsteps were quick, and he hurriedly got rid of your bonds before pulling you into his arms.

He stood up, and you could almost feel his arms, which were under your knees and around your torso, shaking. You could barely notice his eyes frantically darting around your face as he carefully followed Jason. “Damian.” You whispered quietly, voice hoarse.

Carefully, you lifted a hand up to his cheek, and he leaned into it with no hesitation. “I’ve got you.” His voice was gentle and had a small tremble. “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t think I can stay awake much longer.”

“No, you have to.”

“Dami, I can’t.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, whispering, “You are not dying on my watch.” You gave him a weak smile as your eyes shut, the constant promising in your ears. “I’ve got you.”

------------------------------------------------------------

The lights behind your eyelids are dim, meaning they won’t blind you when you open them. Your hand was warm. Your body was warm and there was the slightest pressure against your shoulder. Fingers gripped your hand tightly and soft breathing was barely audible from next to you.

Damian.

You knew it was him. He wouldn’t have let his brothers grab your hand and only he could keep his breath that quiet while sleeping. Cracking an eye open, you looked at him.

His hair and clothes were a mess, but more so his hair. From what you could see, purplish-green took its place beneath his eyes, telling you that he most likely hadn’t slept in a while.

You frowned, feeling guilty for having worried him at all. You slowly lifted your other hand and gently ran it through his hair, stirring him from his sleep. “You’re awake.” He mumbled, voice deep from just waking up. He shoved his face further into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Dami.” You stopped running your hand through his hair and just rested it on the back of his head. “They showed up so suddenly and knocked me out from behind.”

With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he moved it to rest on your stomach and carefully grabbed the fabric of the blanket laying on it. “I don’t blame you. If anything, I blame myself. I should’ve been able to get to you faster. I-”

“Damian,” you cut him off, “You shouldn’t blame yourself. You did your best to get to me as fast as possible. You know I love and I trust you. I knew you’d come for me, and I waited patiently.”

Your sleeve began to feel wet, which shocked you, especially when you saw his shoulders shake. “I was so scared I’d lose you.” You melted immediately, doing your best to turn on your side and pull him to your chest.

“I’m here, though. You saved me.” He let out a small, strangled noise from his throat at your quiet words.

He moved his arms to wrap around your body in a tight hug. “Marry me.” He pulled his face out of your chest and looked up at you, green eyes more prominent because of the tears.

Shock flowed through you as you stared down at him. Damian…asked you to marry him? “Are you being serious?” You turned hopeful and when he gave you a fierce nod, you sputtered out a quick response. “Yes.”

The door opened loudly and suddenly as the duo of Dick Grayson and Jason Todd pushed into the room. Damian was quick to shove his face into your chest to try and hide from his brothers.

“Look at little Damian being all sweet.” Dick teased, nudging Jason’s side, who nodded back at him.

You sighed, moving your hand from Damian’s head to rest it on his chest as the youngest Wayne glared at the two behind him. “Grayson, Todd, I will murder you both in your sleep if you don’t leave now.”

They glanced at each other, but with a small smile from you, they left. “My Damian.” You called his attention back to you, earning a soft smile.

“My (Y/n).” He mimicked your tone before leaning over and pressing his lips against yours.

[etfrin]

⤷❝She can't come to the phone right now. Why? Because she's gagging on my cock! | Jason Todd❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: dom sub undertones, degradation, praise kink, pet names (doll, baby, good girl), hints of dacryphilia, dubcon if you squint I am not sure myself either, blowjob, face fucking, cum swallowing | lmk if I forgot something!

⇢☾Pairing: mean! jealous! possessive! Jason Todd x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: he found out about you having a blind date, got jealous and made you pay the price by sucking his dick instead of going to the said blind date.

⇢☾A/N: I wrote this originally just for the title, like it was such a fucking random idea, finished this at 1:00 am (rn) while listening to bandook meri laila and now I want him to fuck my throat with a gun while pounding my cunt raw, thanks 🙏

| masterlist | bc: @cafekitsune

You always knew Jason would be the jealous type, you never thought he would be jealous over you.

You both weren't friends, only using each other's bodies when it was convenient but you were getting tired of it. You didn't just want sex anymore, you wanted the laughs and dates before it and the cuddles that came after.

Despite all of that, despite getting ready for the date and with only half an hour left before you had to reach the venue, you were on your knees for Jason.

You supposed it was inevitable, fate really that he showed up at your door, his lips in that smirk that made your pussy weep.

It was fate that he knew about the date. How? You didn't want to know. It was destiny that he kept taunting you about it, and he now had you on your knees.

His cock hard in his boxers, his jeans around his knees. His lips were stretched into a taunting grin, he knew you couldn't reject him. Couldn't get enough. You should kick him out and here you are kissing his cockhead through his boxers, the wet spot getting bigger with your spit and his cock leaking pre-cum.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans after a particularly hard suck, "Don't be a tease." Your eyes glance at the clock on your bedside table. 10 minutes left. You prayed your date wouldn't mind you being late as you pulled his boxer down. His hard cock sprang and nearly hit your face, the red tip profusely leaking pre cum.

You asked, "Eager, huh?" Jason smirks in response, his thumb brushing your lower lip, his fingers pulling it back before letting the flesh go and snap against your teeth. "How can I not?" He mocks, "It's the only thing you're good for, this and your pussy."

You let the insult wash away, not letting it hurt you despite the fact it did sting a little. Is this why Jason wasn't anything more to you? Because you were a convenient toy for him to use at any point? You didn't let yourself ride that chain of thought. You did glare at him though.

Your lips hovering over his cockhead, you lean in closer, your teeth nipping his slit. You knew it would hurt, with his tip looking that red and sensitive but didn't he deserve it? He lets out a yell, more in pleasure than in pain, his hand fisting your hair and pulling you back.

Your face was now twisted in a smirk, "You were saying?" He clenched his jaw, his eyes set in a glare. "You… fucking brat…" he hissed, using his grip he brings your lips closer to his cock again. "Don't pull that shit again," he warns, "Not if you want to go on that date."

You bite your inner cheek, knowing that you're already late but you don't say anything to Jason about it. Instead, you take a deep breath before you part your lips to take his cockhead inside your wet, hot mouth. He lets out a low groan, his fingers pulling your hair, making you whimper. You close your eyes as you take more of his inches in his mouth, trying to deep-throat him.

Your hand grips his thigh when the head of his cock reaches your throat."Three taps," he reminds you of the safe word with a grunt. Bobbing your head up and down as a nod, you begin to suck, the suction of your mouth getting tighter as you take his cock to the hilt. Your eyes are getting watery.

He throws his head back with a moan that would surely alert your neighbors. "Fuck, I don't know what I like more, this wet mouth or your tight cunt," he said as he takes a few inches out of your mouth, to snap his hips back in. It makes you gag, saliva, and salty pre cum coating your lips and your chin. Your lipstick is smeared and ruined. Jason would never admit but you looked so pretty, so debauched to him that he thrust into your mouth a bit more roughly than he should.

You choke and he immediately pulls out, whispering sorry to you. "Shit, baby, it wasn't supposed to happen," he said, "Your mouth is so fucking good, baby." You don't reply in anything, taking his cock into your mouth but this time not up to the base so he could fuck your face however he wanted.

He smiles at you, understanding your intentions. "What a good girl," he praised and you hated how you felt yourself clench around nothing at that. He begins to face fuck you in earnest, you try your best to stay still as he pushes into your warm mouth again and again.

"Such a good girl," he moans, "being so good for me." You let out a whine around his cock, the vibration of the sound making him jolt with pleasure. "Fuck, doll, you like me calling you a good girl? You like being praised. Should have told me, don't ya think?" He grins as his cock keeps disappearing between your lips, salty pre-cum on your tongue.

He opens his mouth again, surely to praise when a ring interrupts his sentence. He raised an eyebrow, his lips set on a smirk as he leaned sideways to take the phone. It was the date, shit, you were so focused on him that you had forgotten about that. You tried to let his cock slip out of your mouth but the grip he had on your head forced you to take him further inside, his cock filling your mouth. You whimper, and he only stops at you as he answers the phone.

The conversation was easy to sum up, the conversation of Jason asking for who he is, and when he was asked about where you were and why he was answering the call. His reply was simple, "She can't come to the phone right now. Why? Because she's gagging on my cock!" With that, he cuts the call, and the phone is set on your bed.

You glare at him, tears now falling from your eyes, you were so damn humiliated but he doesn't do anything except thrust into your mouth. Soon enough, his cum was spilled into your mouth. His soft cock slipped from your lips. You swallow his essence without a question.

You gasp, wiping the tears away, your pussy aching and heart hurting. "Why?" You raspy whispered, "Why?"

"Because you're mine and you need to be reminded of that," he replied. You take in a sharp breath, "What?"

"You're mine, doll," he repeated, "Don't you forget that ever again." He leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead. "Mine."

Surprisingly, you were fine with that.

[anitalenia]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. ₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧˚ ༘

— 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝘥𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

˚☽˚｡⋆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. The silence was too loud and his room was too cold — his arms and torso were left bare to freeze thanks to you (he was too much of a gentleman to snatch the blanket off you anyway). The heavy rain smacked into his windows pointedly and purposefully; with every loud drop it made his lip twitch in annoyance.

The air was sharp and frosted, it burned his nose when he breathed in too deeply and it made him wonder if Alfred forgot to turn the heat on — better yet if you turned it off, knowing you hated to fall asleep too warm and Alfred was too meticulous and thorough to forget to turn it off at all.

It was dingy and dismal, dark and dreary just as Bruce preferred it to be, so little going on for him to be so awake and agitated but yet… maybe that was just it. The silence, the boredom, the macabre sense of monotony on an unfamiliarly quiet Saturday night — so little going on it was driving him mad.

Bruce stared up at the ceiling with his arms laid out on his shirtless stomach, restless but tired. His limbs were sore and heavy, his body bruised and battered, yet his dark eyes couldn’t help but flicker over to his window ever so often when he thought about what was on the other side of it — the source of his calamity.

He’d stare through the droplets of water at the blurred kaleidoscope of lights as they shone onto his floor, not eagerly per say just habitually; Bruce seldom ever saw a peaceful night in, so unaccustomed with the sweet domesticity of crawling under the covers at 10:30 pm and kissing your lover goodnight — he was usually so busy, for Gotham never slept and crime never seemed to stop.

No, Bruce couldn’t sleep; his thoughts a morbid mess of batman-esque obligation that made it impossible to close his eyes.

You were a different matter entirely as Bruce turned his head to look at you; snuggled up on your side of the large bed with his thick, black comforter surrounding you, breathing gently on the muscle of his shoulder and sleeping soundly, beautifully.

His pretty little wife.

His eyes looked over the sharp shadows of your sleeping beauty. From your wispy eyelashes, to your cute little nose, to your softly parted lips, a soft smile adorning the corner of his mouth as he did — he couldn’t help it.

Your hair was frizzy and tangled messily around your head, your soft breaths ever so often stuttered with an adorable snore but Bruce couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked anyway as he raked his eyes over your face fondly.

As he did he realized how grateful he was that you didn’t need to worry yourself with the things that he did; you were too innocent for the cruelty of Gotham City, too pure and divine; an angel wrapped in wicked tapestry.

Even now, in your pale white pajamas on black silken sheets you looked too fragile for them, like they could wrap their shadowy arms around you and swallow you whole — just as the city could so easily do if he wasn’t there to protect you.

If Batman wasn’t there to save you.

I don’t care, Bruce. I love you anyway.

That’s what you’d always say when Bruce would settle down in bed beside you with a heavy sigh and whisper why do you stay?, on those long nights when he’d come home brutally battered and fatigued. After a night of being heavily reminded to the real dangers waiting just outside his door like a pack of feral dogs and how easily they could ensnare you in their jaws.

I don’t care. I love you.

He loved you too, he really very did.

With that final thought, Bruce was still caught staring at you with a soft look of love on his face when you gently fluttered your eyes open, your body sensing his awareness before your mind could.

He watched patiently as you groggily looked around before eventually meeting his gaze, his eyes getting even softer at the adorable look of confusion on your face.

Your eyes tiredly looked back up at him despite the darkness surrounding you two, able to see his frowned lips and dark eyes clearly, “Bruce? Why are you still awake?”

Your voice was raspy and tired, a small yawn following your statement that made pity tear at his heart for waking you up.

Bruce ran his hazel eyes over your face some more before he responded, unable to stop cherishing you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He simply responded, voice low and intimate, words spoken in the bare space between his lips and yours.

You settled into your silken pillow with a small huff, eyes focused more on Bruce’s face now as the grogginess gradually melted away and your vision became clearer — the silence and rain thrumming calmly around you. It wasn’t a normal night in Gotham City without the rain.

“Well, did you try?” You teased just as quietly as he, smiling a little at the chuckle he gave you in response.

“Yes, of course I tried. It clearly didn’t go as planned.” Bruce mumbled back with a faint snicker, speaking just loud enough so you can hear him over the rain pattering on the windows, a small smile now quirked on his sharp lips.

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes looking between his, knowing Bruce well enough to know when he was lying.

“I don’t really believe you. What’s keeping you awake?” You sighed with furrowed brows, resting your head right next to his bare shoulder to look up at him better — maybe if you pouted in that cute way he liked he’d tell you honestly.

Bruce faltered at that, looking down at you with a heavy heart; he couldn’t possibly tell you that he felt guilty laying in bed with you when he should’ve been out there, out there protecting those who needed him. But the fact of the matter, one he couldn’t argue with, was that you needed him as well.

He couldn’t possibly tell you how conflicted he really was but probably shouldn’t have been; two parts of him sharing the same mind and body but each with entirely different obligations — the irreconcilable duality that was he.

One part of him was Bruce Wayne; millionaire, orphan, husband, you needed that side of him, you deserved to have him for at least one night. But he was also Batman, and Gotham always needed him.

He was haunted with a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde but instead of one side lusting for murderous intent his alter ego longed for rightful justice in the grandest city of injustice. Batman was the only one who could live harmoniously in the dark, the only one capable of doing the things he did. It was an enervative dichotomous life of matrimonial duties and moral obligation.

There were two men sharing the same halves of the same soul and Bruce couldn’t decide which heart to listen to without making the other one feel guilty.

“Just work stuff, honey. It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me.” Bruce dismissed after a short moment, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile on his thin lips — like that could convince you of anything.

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, registering the slight blue bags under his eyes and the crippled fault in his smile, all small clues of his devious, well-intentioned deception.

“Which work stuff?” You prodded carefully, raising a brow at him as suspicions already began to brew in the back of your mind as to what he was really referring.

Bruce chuckled again at that, loving your caring and inquisitive nature any day but wishing you’d just drop it already. He really couldn’t bear weighing any of the pressure he carried on your delicate shoulders, fearing you’d crumble under the weight of it.

“Really, it’s…” Bruce looked back up at the ceiling in indecision, searching for the right words, “it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?” He looked back down at you with confidence, his voice firmer than before but still softly spoken to get his point across.

You narrowed your eyes at him with that, knowing it was a response you fully expected but were still annoyed to hear.

You were aware that he was lying to you but also aware that he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged him; he never liked to tell you anything about his Batman related problems and it greatly frustrated you for some reason.

As his wife didn’t you deserve to know at least something? You were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his long awaited proposal. After all, you didn’t just marry Bruce Wayne but you married Batman as well… you could handle the truth even if he didn’t seem to think so.

You sighed anyway, unable to mask your irritation towards him for keeping you in the dark. Your lack of sleep didn’t help the influx of annoyance either.

You took your head off his warm shoulder and went to turn around away from him, your fatigue easily irritating you more than usual.

Bruce licked his lips and sighed, having already disappointed you in an attempt to protect you; a small price to pay if it meant your pretty little head wasn’t clogged with constant, pained disquietude like his was.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” You muttered more to yourself than anything, fussing with the blanket you had wrapped yourself in during your slumber and now seemed to be stuck in.

Before you could fully turn around though Bruce laid a warm, consoling hand on your forearm that made you pause, “Hey, hey, wait.”

You lingered a moment at the feel of it before turning back around to face him, expression a little more sour than before — tired and impatient.

Bruce felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the look on your face, knowing he was disappointing you but also knowing it was for the best.

He kept the hand on your arm, leaning up and wrapping it around your back to bring you into his chest, his other arm going behind your neck and tucking you into his side like you were his most precious doll — you were of course.

You didn’t fight him even if you wanted to, enjoying the warmth he provided and the safety you subconsciously sought out snuck tight in between his arms.

“Bruce.” You grumbled anyway as you settled against him, his arm releasing you for a moment to pick the blanket up and over his waist so there was nothing separating you two from each other.

You felt hard plains of muscle underneath you when he did, a flustered pinkness appearing on your cheeks, then slowly crept in hot embarrassment at the fact that your husband’s carefully structured body that you’ve seen many many times still managed to make you shy.

You melted into his side, albeit a bit stiffly as you were still annoyed with him and wanted to blatantly show it, your arms stubbornly slotted against your chest to separate yourself from laying completely on his.

When Bruce was done adjusting the blanket, the bed moving as he did, he settled still and looked down at you with those kind eyes of his you loved so much, the ones that always flustered you when you stared back into them for too long.

The arm behind your neck pushed you closer to him while he took his right hand and wrapped it around your chin, his palm so warm and big against your jaw that you couldn’t help but sigh in submission.

Bruce gently forced you to look up at him, his eyes staring down at you softly but earnestly.

“Alright, hey, don’t be like that with me. If there was something I thought you really needed to know I’d tell you. Otherwise, it’s best I keep that side of myself as private from you as possible. I hate the thought of you being in danger because of me, because I exposed you to that side of myself you didn’t need to see.” Bruce whispered genuinely, minty breath fanning over your nose as you stared up at him, seemingly calm now and even just a little regretful for being so upset with him in the first place.

“Just give it a rest honey, alright? I promise you, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Do I ever go back on my promises, hmm?” He said sweetly, looking down at you with insistent but loving eyes in the expectation of you responding.

You paused for a moment as you registered his words, still curious to know what he was really thinking about because you just couldn’t help it. You worried for him, wished he’d be more open with you so you could help him in whatever way you could. However, you also didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was either, your mind picturing all the purple bruises littering his beautiful body pitifully.

So, you just shook your head like a scolded child, “No… you don’t.” You’d have to bite your tongue for now, pouting up at him cutely — Bruce was just too sweet to argue with sometimes and he knew it.

Bruce gave you a charming smile, gray shadow washed over the angles of his straight nose and narrow cheeks. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, wavy tendrils of it fallen around his face. He looked so handsome, more tranquil this way, as he leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead, a sweet hum sounding in the back of his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

You sighed happily, giving in to him completely now and wrapping an arm around his chest so you could burrow against him; he wrapped his arm around you tighter instinctually, enjoying the feel of you against him as he looked up at the ceiling in content.

Nothing was better than being with you, so much so that Batman himself felt satiated from his lonely perch in the back of Bruce’s mind.

You stared out the large, arched window on his wall for a few quiet moments, watching as the rain quickly fell down the glass one by one as Bruce softly traced his textured fingertips along the spine of your back.

“It always rains, you ever notice that?” You murmured tiredly against his skin, in a daze from the tingling sensation on your skin as he caressed your back in gentle, loving touches.

Bruce looked away from you a moment when you spoke to spare the window a disinterested glance, “What? You don’t like the rain, Mrs. Wayne?” He teased you, his spirits higher than before as he looked back down at you even if you couldn’t see, his nose filled with the sweet smelling shampoo you used — coconut and vanilla.

You smiled a little — you loved when he called you that.

“Well of course you do. You’re Batman, you’re supposed to like depressing things.” You spoke with a smile, only teasing him as your eyes drifted shut from the comfort of his body against yours, muscles melting against the black sheets nestled between his own.

Bruce chucked at that, his hand ceasing its calming motion, “oh, is that right?”

You hummed with an amused smile on your lips, nodding your head, “mmhmm, yes sir.”

Bruce scoffed playfully at that, looking down at you with a fond playfulness in his eyes before gently taking his muscled arm out from underneath your head.

You lifted your head up curiously to look at him, wishing for the moment to not be disturbed, only to be gently rolled over so that Bruce was laid on top of you and you were now sunken into the inky black abyss of cushions beneath him. Your lips parted in a slight gasp, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much in surprise.

“Now now, Mrs. Wayne, don’t go calling me that unless you plan on doing something about it, it’s in bad taste.”

You giggled at that, a joyous and twinkling sound that made Bruce tense up, his eyes darting towards your lips and his heart quickening in his chest. You always had such an effect on him even if you didn’t know it.

“How ‘bout you do something about it then?” You whispered up to him sensually, voice low and playful. You could feel the air surrounding the little bubble you two found yourselves in change heavily as you ran your hands softly over his midsection, his light skin cold and soft, muscles hard and firm as you traced your fingers delicately over each individual ab until Bruce was twitching at the feeling.

He glanced down at your hands hotly, already worked up from your minuscule touches alone, his skin tingling from the sensation as a familiar heat started to twirl in his lower tummy.

He looked back down at you, eyes more hooded now but just as eagerly as rain pounded on the windows somewhere in the background — you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his warm breaths and the gradual throbbing between your own legs.

“Yeah? Would you like if I did something about it, Mrs. Wayne?” Your husband mumbled huskily, a teasing smirk on his lips as he lowered down closer until his face was just above yours, his big arms pressed into the pillow on each side of your head so you were surrounded by him.

He could see the way you inhaled at the name, felt the way your nails dug into his skin for a subtle, fleeting moment. He always knew all the right ways to turn you on, knew all the right words to say to make you melt in his hands like warm syrup — you were certainly just as sweet.

You stared up at your husband with heavy breaths, mouth watering for a taste of him, eyes blown black with love and unabashed want as he sat in the reflection of your irises. Your skin felt hot and your thighs tightened around his waist, arms aimlessly tracing the ridges of muscle that coated Bruce’s front; it was in an innocently naive way now, so unaware of how badly it was affecting Bruce himself as your initial confidence dwindled down to need.

You impatiently waited for him to make a move, give into the desire you both so clearly felt as your eyes ran over his shirtless body and perfect face in the mean time. With every exhale of breath out of his mouth you found yourself inhaling it back in, breathing his air and smelling of Bruce’s aftershave, Bruce’s shampoo, it was all just Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.

He had completely overwhelmed your senses with his smell, his presence, his very existence and it was making it hard to think clearly — only he plagued your thoughts so much it made your fingertips buzz to feel more of him.

It was in moments like these where the sheer size of Bruce was brought to your attention; he was much more muscular than you, all sharp edges and ridges of pure muscle and destruction that could destroy anything he put his hands on.

It was ironic to you, how those same hands that broke bones were the same hands that caressed your skin in the softest of touches, in the softest of ways, irrevocably incapable of breaking you.

Bruce believed he was all carnal ruination — hands made to break and fists made to destroy. He believed he had a dark side in him he couldn’t control, that Batman was the outlet for all the frustration he felt towards the injustices of the city and how easily it corrupted the lightest of souls. He believed he was made to hurt, to cause ruin — a reason why he never took a single human soul no matter how rotten it was.

But you believed he didn’t give himself enough credit, which is exactly why moments like these were so important to remind him.

You swallowed nervously now as you looked back into his eyes, your fingers faltering in their movement as they stilled on the angles of his hips, right outside the tight band of his black sweatpants.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne, that’s exactly what I want.” You whispered back up to him in a velvety soft tone, eyes looking at his pink lips and then flickering back up between his hazel irises lustfully; the look in them was too intense for you to handle but you sufficed, your heart thrumming passionately under your skin at the attention.

Bruce almost melted at the name, just as affected by the title as you were, lowering his face down until his nose was touching yours, his lips hovering right above your own.

“That’s my girl…” Bruce breathed thickly against your lips, his eyes flickering to your mouth as yours did the same to his, your mouth salivating for a taste of him.

A silent beat passed as you both just stayed in that position, locked into each other’s loving gazes and gentle touches, his lips just a whisper away from yours screaming to have you, to taste you. It was intimate and warm, quiet, your body feeling fuzzy and alight with something similar to deep admiration and not so far from a deep, shared love for each other.

There was no playfulness about it now.

It was then, when the tension had sizzled into flame did Bruce finally lean down and kiss you, his lips soft and cold, so contrasting from the warmth he sought in yours as the rain pattered on the windows and your angelic essence drowned him further into the depths of you.

You moaned softly, feeling relief flood through you as your hands gripped his hips for some sort of anchor off the clouds you seemed to be floating on. Bruce kissed you lovingly, a characteristic act of tenderness as he found his own needy noises hum in the back of his throat.

It was sweet and slow, lips careful and gentle against each other between delicate sighs and hums. He tasted of peppermint and the faint drawl of bourbon, his tongue damping your lips and your shared saliva wet on your mouths.

He seperated from you just for a short moment, your lips feeling the loss but not for too long before he was on you once more with a fervor, tongue molding between your lips forcefully and sucking yours into the warmth of his mouth.

You whined at the sudden confidence within him, lips barely moving against his as he took control of your movements and gave you no other option but to take what he gave you — his lips and his tongue tangling with yours messily as sensual rumbles sounded deep from within in his chest.

He brought a hand down from the pillow and intertwined it in your hair, tangling his thick fingers into your roots and pulling hard enough to arouse you further. It made your back arch and lips part in a salacious gasp.

Bruce found himself unable to part from your delectable taste for long, taking that moment to reconnect his damp lips to the skin between your chin and shoulder. He forced your head back as he kissed your neck, the cold air hitting every damp spot in a pleasurable tingling sensation that had your nails digging into his abs.

“Bruce…” You sighed oh so sweetly in a distracted state of mind, just wanting to say his name and have him hear how good he was making you feel with his simple kisses alone — a feat he always accomplished anytime he did.

The praise didn’t fall on deaf ears but he was too preoccupied with the sound of your heavy breaths and whines to really pay attention, too love drunk on the smoothness of your skin falling over his tongue as he licked his way down to your collarbone. He released his grip on your hair and his hands made idle work in caressing their way down your body to the hem of your white pajama top.

His hands were eager, so familiar on the curves of your body as they slid back up to your chest, hands big and desperate as they tightly gripped your bosom for a fleeting moment that had you moaning at the sting — he was handsy, unable to get enough of you and the way your body perfectly slotted between the strength and ridges of his hands.

His cock was already hard in his slacks, poking against your thigh absentmindedly as his hands dug into the center of your top and adamantly ripped it right down the middle. The buttons flew over the bed and your tits spilled out of the ripped material in a gorgeous ripple of flesh that had Bruce groaning at the sight.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, just fucking perfect…” He mumbled in a lustful daze, more to himself as a factual observation, his hands now gripping your waist, eager mouth leaning down and making quick work to lap at your chest in the way he knew you liked.

You giggled dreamily at that, feeling fluttery and lightheaded at the praise, body warm and melting like a cube of butter on top of his silk bed sheets. He was always capable of making you melt with just a few loving words and caresses, another one of his talents.

Your hands had found their way into his thick hair, massaging at the loose strands when you decided it was impossible to stay still from the buzzing running through your pores.

Your pussy throbbed in your pajama shorts, painfully so, stomach in tight knots at the sparks shooting down to your core from his ministrations.

He found himself enthralled by the feeling of your tit in his mouth, fervently sucking on the skin there as his hands gripped into your waist so tight in a subconsciously possessive hold so you could never leave. Maybe it was the semblance of Batman himself leaking out from under tight fingertips, a degree of fierce protection in the way he held you underneath him, unable to be taken or destroyed by the same evil he fought almost every night.

You were here with him, with him and all of his burdens for the rest of your lives.

“So gorgeous…”

Bruce was lost in the pleasure you helplessly moaned in his ears, feeling his own mutual desire swirling in his tummy and thrumming through his skin that made every touch feel like fire, every kiss an ember from the flame until you and him were intertwined ash lost in the black smoke.

He loved you, his pretty wife, always so supportive and forgiving in the moments he definitely didn’t deserve it.

He picked his head up, panting and lips wet, your chest littered in pink marks and damp with his spit as Bruce licked his lips, hungry for more already.

You looked at him in all his glory, admiringly, just as enamored with him as he was with you as your warm hands slid down to his cheeks. Your own were flushed pink and feverish, breath warm and heavy as you lovingly ran your palm over his sharp cheekbone. His skin was soft, smooth and tepid under your dainty fingertips.

You gently caressed the faint purple of a bruise with your thumb, right in the hollow of his eye.

Bruce leaned into the tender action for a spared moment of comfort, his eyes hooded and twinkling in the dark as he breathed heavily against your lips. He kept finding himself absent in the presence of your beauty, staring at your face and your lips and being so thankful he had you at all.

“So beautiful…” He breathed gingerly, eyes looking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time — no, he was selfish in his blatant admiration of your magnificence, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his love for you as he watched the soft corners of your mouth twist into a shy smile at your devotees idolatrous attention.

He leaned down after a fond moment of your thumb tracing his cheekbone, after he was satisfied with his generous intake of your prettiness. He pecked an affectionate kiss on your smiling lips before dipping his head down and laying several kisses to your neck once more.

You bit your lip at the sensitive feeling, closing your eyes, lost in the feel of him, as he pampered you with doting kisses all the way down to your ribcage, his hands now playing with the hem of your shorts but not too boldly as to take them off quite yet.

“You’re everything, you know that? I could never imagine my life without you… you’re perfect, so perfect.” He rubbed your stomach adoringly, “Your body is perfect, so beautiful, I can’t believe you ever married me…” He mumbled in that rough voice of his, vulnerable in the night, in the moment when you couldn’t see him all the way clearly but he could see all of you just fine.

You could feel another smile playing on your lips — not that it had even left — the heavy sensation of happy tears casting a light sheen over your eyes. He was the perfect one, he was the gorgeous and beautiful counterpart of you that didn’t seem to realize his own value. You only wished you had the poetic spark in yourself that he had, then you’d be able to voice it properly. Still, his praise made your heart swell as he took your left hand and kissed the diamond ring on your finger amorously.

“Oh, Bruce…” You spoke in a hushed manner, voice wobbling from the overwhelming infatuation you had for the man, so thankful and grateful for such a man as wonderful as he. In your eyes the sudden romance had come out of nowhere, but it was still greatly appreciated as it caused your voice to thicken with the downpour of love it had spiked.

He looked into your eyes as he warmly kissed your palm, lips quirked slightly, eliciting another tender hearted smile from you. He then let you settle your hands back on his shoulders as he slotted himself between your hips, the affectionate moment lingering in the air as you pet his wide shoulders.

You were laid on your back, smooth thighs spread to accommodate his size between them, pajama top ripped down the middle in fragmented material hanging off your shoulders, your tits pooled on your chest and wet with his kisses. Your hair was tangled, fanned around your head, lips pink and plushy from all his salacious kisses, your eyes glittering erotically bright.

Despite that, you were not uncomfortable to be so exposed to him, exposed in a way you’d only ever be with him. You knew he would never judge you nor your body, that he loved you and all your freckles and scars and all the blemishes you considered imperfections — he loved them all. The only part of you not seen were covered by the shorts Bruce was already eager to take off.

You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, just as he said you were an angel, something divine and pure, a holy deity completely out of this world that transcended the mortal plane he was bound to, letting his lowly lips and hands cherish your merciful soul and body. Just oh so perfect.

“I love you…” You whispered, pathetically cute, down to him, a whisper wafting into his ears soft and fragile as if you were scared he wouldn’t say it back — he’d say it everyday for a thousand years if he had the blessing of living that long with you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulsing with need, as you smiled down at him sweetly.

“I love you more, Mrs. Wayne… I love you more…” He breathed hotly against your stomach, already leaning down and peppering sugarcoated kisses along your pelvis, so much closer to where you really needed him that the throbbing had become unbearably intense, wetness soaking your inner thighs and cream colored shorts. You felt your body shiver at the title once more.

You swallowed shakily as Bruce moved down, his daft fingers hooking into the band of your shorts and gently shoving them down to your knees as his longing lips reached the band of your lavender laced panties.

Your thighs tightened around his head as cool air hit your wet center, your body sensitive and pulsing heavy notes of desire straight into your pussy that made it hard to keep your head up and eyes open.

You just needed him, needed him and his expert mouth to bring you some sort of relief. Your toes were curled already, pussy clenching around nothing and spewing out clear juices that only damped your underwear further. You tangled your fingers into his hair heatedly, resisting the urge to shove his head down where you really wanted him.

Bruce swallowed hungrily, staring at your panty-clad pussy with dark eyes. He could smell your sweetness on his nose, the rain pattering on the windows still and the room still dark as sin but he could see his heaven clear as day, hypnotized by the patch of wetness in your panties, molded to the shape of your pussy lips and begging to be ripped apart.

His eyes flickered up to you, feeling your grabby fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs tensed back and forth around his neck.

Your head was barely held up, eyes hooded and sparkling with a form of lustful desperation as you stared down at him. Your chest bobbing up and down heavily and your skin radiant and smooth, the city lights from his window blurredly reflected in the fat of your cheeks. You already looked destroyed, like he had just fucked your brains out yet he really hadn’t done a thing.

“Bruce, come on…” You whined in a delicate plea when he made no movement further, hands barely pulling his hair but it was hard enough for his skin to prickle in pleasure, a hiss leaving his lips, just hard enough to get your message across.

He snickered at that, lips shiny and jaw chiseled, his face so sharp yet soft at the same time. His beauty greatly perplexed you for how could a mere mortal be so fucking handsome? He was though, he was strong and big and riddled with scars and imperfections yet the accumulation of all those little faults are what made him flawless.

Bruce himself felt the throbs of impatience nestled in his stomach, burrowed in his heart, buzzing at his fingertips, as he looked down at your pussy once more just inches from his mouth, both wet and watering for the other.

“Be patient, honey. I just wanna look at ‘cha first. You’re so pretty, dripping wet for me…” He had the audacity to murmur in that cocky voice of his, yet simultaneously genuine and stunned at the observation as his hands rubbed your thighs, being sure to heartily press into the tissue in that way he knew you liked.

You couldn’t help but pull his hair some more, bursting at the seams for some sort of pleasure you feared it would boil over and you’d explode. You felt frustration settle through your veins once more like molten lava, your skin tensing and thighs aching from their tight grip around his neck.

“Bruce, no more teasing, please? Just please…” You moaned and whined like a stubborn girl, voice thick with need and painful yearning that made his cock twitch in his pants. You almost sounded broken, voice fragmented with a certain torment only his mouth and fingers could appease.

He licked his lips, feeling desire swell in his lower tummy at the state of you — already so incapable of any thought but the memory of his cock inside you, the feeling of his fingers drilling into your tight hole as he spat and licked on your sensitive clit. It was all you could think about, all you could picture in your mind as your head laid back on the pillows and you scooted down the bed until your pussy was right in his face.

The blanket had long since been forgotten, bunched around his hips and aiding as a nice cushion for his abdomen hunched over the end of the bed.

Bruce felt himself chuckle huskily at your shameless neediness, his big hands stopping on your plush inner thighs as he settled down between your legs on the soft mattress, getting himself comfortable for you.

You breathed heavily, eyes closed as you laid back on the silken pillow with your face crumbled so cutely. He was such a tease even when he was meant to be sweet, even when he was insistent on being a good husband who doted on his wife whenever he could — you guessed growing up rich gave him that arrogant edge.

Your stomach was knotted so tight, your skin hot and shivering for some sort of touch as your fingers dug themselves into the roots of his damp, brown hair. You needed him so bad, but your pussy needed him worse.

You felt your thighs tickle as Bruce lightly traced the pads of his fingers down, down, down until he was at the crook of your inner thigh, his right hand digging into the flesh of your leg like he himself couldn’t hold back from you anymore.

Bruce didn’t bother voicing any teasing quips or dirty statements, knowing you were so out of it you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Every fiber of your being was hooked on his touches, hyper aware of the spots his fingers trickled across, eager for some degree of pleasure that would make this painful waiting period worth it.

He swallowed down the salvia pooling in his throat, so hungry for a taste of you, starved almost. His index finger hooked into your panties and delicately pushed them out of the way until they were bunched in the crook of your thigh. His eyes were met with your soaking wet slit in all its glory.

White, creamy arousal stuck to your panties and dripped down your pulsing hole into the crack of your ass, sheer white beads of cum dribbled down your needy hole that would escape his tongue before he even got a proper taste of you yet.

The cool air made you whine behind closed lips, your voice high pitched and desperate now, your fingers tighter in his hair as your hips subtly bucked forward. The beautiful noises you were making made Bruce’s jaw clench.

You were glistening, shiny with arousal and the strings of impenitent want, evidence of your desire and love for him as he found himself inhaling the scent of you once more.

You smelt so good. He found himself groaning at the musky sweetness, his finger still hooked around the crotch of your panties as his other hand tightly gripped your thigh — you moaned softly at the pressure, sure that there would be the faint yellow bruises of his adoring fingerprints pressed into your skin tomorrow. A charming reminder of the evening when they blossomed.

You felt your core clench once more, thighs tensing up as wetness shone in his greedy irises.

Bruce was unable to wait any longer, his mouth salivating and his eyes blown black as he pressed his tongue into your wet hole and licked a bold stripe all the way up to your buzzing clit, the taste of your arousal pooled on his tongue and already dripping down the sharp corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t stop the loud moan from echoing in the room, euphoric sounding as sweet sparks went off all over your skin at the long awaited contact. Your fingers tightly anchored themselves in Bruce’s hair as his tongue went up and down your folds, gathering as much of your wetness in his mouth as he could.

His hands swiftly dug themselves into your hips to hold you down once you started writhing in his hold. His tongue forcefully circled your clit in sharp wet strokes, deep rumbled moans escaping his chest that vibrated the sensitivity of it and only made more wetness gush out of you and soak his chin.

You tasted so good, so fucking good; he wanted nothing more than to be drowned in your essence, choking on everything you gave him until his belly was full and even then he wouldn’t be satisfied, he’d never be satisfied. He was like a monster, chasing every little drop of cum that pebbled out of your clenching hole with a forked tongue, greedy and carnivorous like you were the only nectar he ever wanted to taste again.

His tongue lapped your pussy once more as you gasped, back arched and toes clenched as he thrusted his tongue into you over and over, wet and messily as your juices shimmered on his cheeks and lips.

No, he decided, the beast within him would never be tamed.

You bucked away from his mouth in a pathetic attempt to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure, but Bruce held you down with his strong arms, staring up at you with furrowed brows of concentration as his lips molded over your puffy clit once more, swollen from need and his relentless licking.

He was nothing if not devoted, devoted to your elegance, to your holy figure and endless love as he lapped at you desperately, his tongue swirling your clit as the fabric of your panties tickled his nose. He couldn’t get enough, pushing deeper and harder until your wetness was messily smeared on his mouth and face, eating more and tasting more until his entire being was smothered with your cum inside and out.

“Bruce, o-oh my god!” You squealed wantonly, one hand now gripping the black sheets between tight fingers as your other hand remained in his hair, following the movements of his head as he went up and down, side to side until not an inch of you wasn’t covered in his salvia.

He breathed hotly against you, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of you in his mouth and trickling down his throat. He couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t listen to reason as all he could focus on was you and your cum, tasting you, licking you, having you in every sense of the word. No one could tear him away from you, not now, not when he was so close to having you cum in his mouth and reaching his final purpose.

You were so close, you could feel it in your tummy. Your hole clenching around his tongue as he went back and forth from your clit and your soaked hole, wanting to pleasure you but simultaneously wanting to taste you for his own pleasure.

Your toes curled, stomach tightened, hands gripping the sheets as your mouth flew open in sporadic moans and gasps, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your thighs squeezed around Bruce so tight you’d fear he’d never surface from between your legs again.

He wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Bruce picked his head up only high enough to talk, lips dripping and almost incoherent as he mumbled deeply into the wet folds of your pussy like he couldn’t bear to part, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Mrs. Wayne, make me proud, cum in my mouth.” As he voiced this his one hand crept down and slyly inserted themselves into the tight confine of your warmth, his index and middle fingers pushing inside you, so long and so big it made you cry out.

It was wet and warm, your juices slapping against his knuckles as he circled his fingers inside you, pushing on the spot he knew he was supposed to as his mouth eagerly returned to your clit. He looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your tits jiggling with every thrash of your hips, every arch of your back and every gasp out of your pretty, dampened lips.

He groaned into you at the sight, feeling his cock achingly hard in his pants as he sucked your clit into the warmth of his mouth and refused to let go, tongue prodding the area skillfully and harshly. He wasn’t going to stop this time, not until you were creaming around his fingers and leaking down his neck.

The air was so thick and stuffy that you couldn’t help but pant fervently, your body prickled with pleasure and overwhelming sensations that made it hard to focus on anything but his fingers inside you, long and lithe, slipping in and out as the sounds of your wetness clouded your ears and muffled your moans.

Bruce himself was lost in you, tongue and lips a glistening mess as they lapped and circled and sucked every part of your pussy exposed to him, it felt so good it stung — he was groaning into you softly, pleasure building in his tummy and rumbling through his mouth to your already so sensitive clit.

It was then, just a few short moments after his fingers wormed their way inside your tight walls, just a few short moments after he sucked your clit into his mouth did you feel your stomach relax, thighs squeeze around his head so hard he felt himself go dizzy.

“Ahh, O-oh my god, Bruce!” You moaned so blissfully, so sweetly, as your juices squirted onto his chin and his fingers squelched inside you.

Bruce moaned at the feeling, fingers gently sliding out of your clenching hole so his tongue could catch all the cum pouring out. You whimpered at the feeling of his mouth still on you, lapping at your hole like a dehydrated villager kneeling at a prosperous fountain, your skin pasty and so so hot.

He lapped at your pussy a few more times, up and down, ensuring he got his fill for the evening as faint tremors wracked your body in the aftershocks of his giving nature. You were flat on the bed now, belly sore from the tightness it held for so long, legs limp and body spent as you panted gently, heart throbbing in your ears.

You managed to lazily caress his sweaty hair though as Bruce surfaced from between your legs, face glistening and lips sore and pink. He looked manic, hair pulled and tangled and messily scattered on his face yet he seemed to be glowing at the same time, like he had never felt so alive and it made you want to giggle.

He sniffled, looking up at you with an impish grin, the taste of you lingering in his mouth and staining his nose. His hands fondly massaged your shaking thighs, noting your wrecked appearance and tired eyes, your sweaty skin flushed and warm.

He couldn’t help it as he glanced down at the mess he made, your slippery wet folds and the large patch of wetness staining his sheets.

“Mrs. Wayne, pardon my brashness of course,” He said almost sarcastically, breathless and rugged, an amused smile quirked on his lips as he leaned forward and embraced your hand with his, “but you taste utterly divine.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss — I hope it’s okay I tagged you, you said you wanted to be tagged in everything 😭🙌🏻

[violent138]

I am very unsurprisingly, shockingly into this pairing.