Tumgik
#dc fanfic
gay-dorito-dust · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Would they or would they not catch you…
Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.
He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.
‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.
‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.
‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.
You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.
Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀
Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.
He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.
‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.
‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.
You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.
Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.
However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.
Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.
‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.
‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.
Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.
What a sweetheart.
Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.
Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”
( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)
Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.
453 notes · View notes
xpastelsweetsx · 3 days
Text
Hey Y'all! I finally posted chapter 3 of Hold Me! Y'alll should go read it... please... if ya have the time... ahem anyway I hope everyone is existing in the soup comfortably- I am FINALLY caught up on batman so THAT is a win- now to Start on Wonderwoman!
20 notes · View notes
Text
I always have to smile at myself when I read a fanfic in which Bruce immediately catches Jason after he hits with his tire iron.
I get why fanfic writers do it, so they can move the plot along without having to write the chase after Jason or the scene when they do talk in the condemned building that Jason sleeps in. I get it.
But I always have to think about canon then.
Because not only did Jason manage to run away from Batman.
He also called him a 'big boob'.
I repeat. He gets caught jacking the tires. Tries to deny it. Hits Batman with a tire iron, runs away and insults him.
This 12-year old did something that every rogue would never even dream of.
9K notes · View notes
superbat-love · 3 months
Text
Bruce: Commissioner Gordon, I wasn’t expecting a visit this late.
Gordon: My apologies, Bruce, there are some things that I need to talk to you about regarding the Wilson case.
Bruce: No apologies needed, Commissioner. Please, have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?
Gordon: Tea would be-
Bruce: ?
Gordon:
Bruce: Commissioner?
Gordon:
Bruce: Commissioner Gordon, is everything all right?
Gordon: Bruce, there’s a- there’s a ghost floating down your hallway…
Bruce: [turns to see a sleeping Clark floating horizontally out of his bedroom, wrapped up in his blanket]
Bruce: Oh, that’s just my great-great-granduncle Tom. He’s always haunting this hallway on Thursdays. It’s his weekly chess game, and he never got over that one loss. Poor Uncle Tom…
Gordon:
Bruce: Alfred, why don’t you go and see if Uncle Tom can be persuaded to haunt another hallway instead?
Alfred: Right away, Master Bruce.
6K notes · View notes
symbiosisly · 2 months
Text
Okay but imagine the Justice League, it’s a quiet day at the watchtower and Batman is in a rare good mood. They are chatting together after a meeting when someone, I imagine Hal or Barry, starts discussing Love Languages and what they think each of theirs is others and to themselves. 
Bruce, in a rare good mood, jokingly says his love acceptance language is physical touch of course. The others, knowing of Batman’s infamous death glare anytime someone so much as enters his personal space let alone touches him. It’s funny to imagine the man who punched Hal while unconscious when he accidentally brushed past him while he was sleeping to have his Love Language be Love, and Bruce genuinely need mean for it to be a joke, so the others laugh. All expect Clark. 
Clark however, can’t help but think of the loneliness of it all. If physical affection was how Bruce felt love, then what did it say about the man who refused to be let others touch him? Who couldn’t accept a friendly pat on the shoulder without tensing up. How much trauma must have happened for him to fear Love. 
Cue Superman, to the confusion of both Batman and the rest of the league, treating Batman like a stray cat and trying to slowly introduce Non Scary Touch Because We Love You While Also Making Sure I Have Consent For This Because Your Comfort Is Important To Me. 
Maybe this is pre-superbat and misunderstandings abound as Bruce tries to show love through (actual love language) while Clark laments about the fact that Bruce still won’t touch him. Or maybe it is early days in the justice league and no one knows each other well, so Superman is still somewhat terrified of Batman but is willing to Brave The Glare anyway, because even emo-bat-vigilantes-who-potentially-still-want-to-kill-you-with-kryptonite deserve to feel loved.
1K notes · View notes
say-hi-to-the-sky · 2 months
Text
So I'm someone who started out reading dc fanfic but is now starting to get into actual source material.
I just watched Under the Red Hood and holy crap Jason gets mischaracterized so much in fandom. Like I know a lot of people have talked about this already but whatever.
Jason, so often is described in fanfic as impulsive or emotional, as someone who "thinks with his fists" rather than his head, when that couldn't be further from the truth.
In UtRH, this guy is able to manipulate so many key players into ending up exactly where he wants him, and yet people are still think he's one of the dumber members of the batfamily.
TL;DR - jason is way smarter than the fandom gives him credit for. I'm definitely not the first to say this, but it's not said enough.
1K notes · View notes
arcticlutra · 1 year
Text
Bernard: Hmm...
Jason: What?
Bernard: You look an awful lot like Bruce Wayne's dead son Jason Todd.
Jason: -blue screen-
Bernard: I mean add a few years and pounds.
Jason: Wait. What?!
Bernard: Hmm. -prods Jason- I suppose Wayne Enterprises would have the tech. It would explain a lot...
Jason: I...I have no idea what's going on right now.
Bernard: -dialling Tim- Hey Babe.
-indistinct phone noises-
Jason: Who even are...
-Bernard puts a finger to Jason's lips-
Bernard: Shh, I'm checking something. No sorry Babe, I was shushing the clone.
-loud, angry phone noises, and confused Jason noises-
Bernard: Tim, of course I'm not talking to a Robin, it's daytime. I'm talking to the clone of your adopted brother Jason Todd who I bumped into at the Farmer's Market.
-very angry phone noises-
Bernard: -sighing- Tim I love you, but we all know that Bruce Wayne dated the Batman, which is where the Batman clearly stole the Robin Cloning Tech from...
-angrier phone noises-
Bernard: Look Tim, don't get angry at me that your adopted father's ex doesn't understand boundaries. Anyway, I have to go as your Brother's clone is malfunctioning and a hot red head with a kid is trying to drag him away from my citizen's arrest. Love you!
8K notes · View notes
anothertimdrakestan · 11 months
Text
Pinky Promise - Damian Wayne x Reader !Soulmate AU
~ where your birthmark is where you'll first touch your soulmate ~
A pinky finger is an odd place to have a soulmate mark. Most people had full hands, a set of lips marked on their cheek, or a hand print on their hip. Yet yours was just the length of your left hand pinky finger.
No matter, you'd had the habit of locking pinky's with people since you were born. Call it natural habit or a desperation to link fingers with your soulmate, it was your thing.
So when you started your internship at the Bludhaven Police Department Sheriff's office and got finger printed you didn't think anything of it when officer Grayson paused on your last finger.
"This your soulmate mark?" he gestured to your pinky, which was darker than the rest of your skin colour.
"Funny right! Just the pinky. Most people have normal ones! Where's yours? Wait. Is it on your lips?" you glanced up at the officer with a grin as he flushed.
"We all meet our soulmates in strange ways." he mumbled with a smile.
"Truth or dare? Or Suck and Blow? It had to be a party game right?" you leaned in as Officer Grayson pressed your pinky into ink.
"It was more of a greeting, she's not from around here so it was her way of saying hello." he stated, eyes twinkling with a familiar joy. God you wanted that. He continued, "I'll tell you, I know a kid with a pinky mark too. Cant remember which hand though. I'll bring him in soon, though neither of you seem like each other's type." you noticed his brows furrowed thinking about the "kid" he mentioned.
"Bring him in like, a bad guy? Not sure that's my type! I'm just here to learn about forensics!" you giggled. The officer just shook his head and told you to go start reviewing the steps to finger print collection and storage. Sounded super fun and interesting (not).
Turns out there's a lot to learn about crime forensics. By the end of the day you had a backpack full of materials to study on your transit ride back to Gotham. Hiking up fire escapes to the top of your apartment building, you decided to study via the lights from the top of your building. Nothing like the haze of Gotham to comfort you through pages of reading.
"Glad to see you're back." A familiar voice chided from your side.
"C'mon, you're excited to see me!" you grinned into the darkness, willing the shadowy figure to come forward. Like usual, he did.
"Good to see you, Robin." you waved with a teasing smile as he visibly shook his head.
"Can't say the same Y/N. I had more peaceful nights when you weren't here. What's got you up late this time?" he grumbled, keeping his distance as you held up your bunches of papers exclaiming "studying! Always studying."
"And you can't do that from the safety of your apartment?" he questioned. You shook your head no in response. "Need I remind you of the multiple times I've had to throw people off this balcony for you?" he yawned, gesturing to the ledge of the rooftop.
"Aren't I so lucky you're protecting me!" you teased. He wasn't wrong, sketchy people had on more than one occasion lurked on top the Gotham's tallest buildings, but you enjoyed the view and trusted Robin far too much to change your place of comfort.
"Protecting Gotham." he retorted, moving towards the rooftop to jump towards a night full of crime fighting. You never tried to stop him from leaving, you still thought it was insane that he even paused to talk to you, so you just waved and watched as he launched into darkness. Curling back up with your notes you appreciated the blanket of safety his presence had placed on you.
~
"Damian I'm telling you she has the mark on her pinky!" Dick screeched, chasing after Damian who was not willing to hear anything he had to say. "What do I care Grayson? I don't want a soulmate, I'm busy," he retorted, cascading through the batcave to get away from Dick's prying eyes.
"Just let me see! I wanna know!" Dick cried but Damian had already slammed his door closed.
"Word on the street is Dames found a rooftop girl. You didn't hear it from me though." Tim called from the adjacent room. The two were usually stuck on patrol together so it did make sense. But Dick still couldn't believe it.
"Which goddamn rooftop." Dick's voice was a low hum, the determination dripping from his tongue. He had a theory.
~
"Morning Officer Grayson!" you called down the hallways of the BPD office. You'd finally gotten a full night of sleep last night because you had finished studying a couple days ago, free from the piles of work. Your morning glee quickly dissipated when you were promptly handed a stack of papers and binders.
"You're doing great work, so we're moving you up to sample analysis. Lots of reading for ya!" the officer sounded congratulatory as he handed you the piles of paperwork. You couldn't deny, this was what you wanted, but it was definitely more work than you could do in one day. Needless to say, you hoped you'd get to see a familiar bird brain that night.
~
Cozying up on the rooftop you were so deep into the inner-workings of a microscope you hardly noticed the shadowy figure that had appeared across from you.
"Studying again are we?" Robin's snarky voice made you jump, eyes snapping to his face. "Tons of work! Calls for an all nighter, what about you?" you simply replied.
"Patrol." His response was curt but you wanted more this time.
"What after? Tell me- what does a hero do in his free time?" you leaned in with a teasing smile. To your surprise Robin leaned back against the railing and responded "I like to draw." Giving you more of a key into him than you'd ever gotten.
"I'm a terrible artist but I bet you're amazing! Keen eyes and steady hands always make for good art. You should show me sometime! If you want!" you rambled with a grin. You figured it would be an automatic no, but the corner of his mouth twitched up, almost like a smile as he said, "maybe I will." Something blossomed in your chest.
"Well, you're always welcome here! Like, all night. It's brutal." you joked, gesturing at the piles of papers in your lap.
"I may just take you up on that, my brother has been overwhelmingly obnoxious at home. Have a good night." Robin muttered as he left over the rooftop railing once again. You smiled to yourself, he likes to draw and he has a brother? Fascinating.
You were practically asleep in your notes when you felt something bump into your chest. A surprisingly elegant paper airplane. From the shadows you could see Robin sitting across from you, back against the rooftop railing, a notepad and pencil in his arms as he starred up at you.
"What? You were practically snoring." he said matter-of-factly.
"For the record, I do not snore. Also, how'd you make this? It's beautiful!" you exclaimed, delicately holding up the paper airplane to appreciate the little curves of the thick paper.
"I was into origami for a while. It's almost mathematical, very satisfying." his reply was short again, seemingly focused on the sketching at hand. So you fell into silence with him, focusing up on your note taking.
You didn't exactly notice the sun starting to rise. It was hard to see in Gotham, smog and all, but the inkling of light from the hazy sky gave you a clearer picture of the boy wonder then you'd ever gotten.
It felt strange but he was gorgeous. Silky black hair tousled from running his hands through it in between pencil scratches, when he was focused he bit the inside of his cheek, eyebrows knit into determination. You appreciated the reds and yellows of his costume, noting the various weapons hitched across his body. But the rest was hidden. Whether behind his domino mask, his suit, or his silence.
"It's rude to stare at a working artist" he grumbled, chin tilting up to show that his eyes were meeting yours.
"You've never stayed this long." you replied breathlessly. Squirming in your chair, knowing that you couldn't get any closer without him running off.
"Your presence isn't, unbearable, for what it's worth." his voice was so low but you could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Same to you." you whispered back, letting your tired eyes drift back to your notes which were pretty much done. It was an all nighter after all.
It felt like a few minutes but the billowing light from the rising sun told you it had been longer, and your head was severely drooping into your lap. "Y/n, you need sleep. Go to bed," his voice was warm but stern, enough to get you to lazily collect your papers and stand up with a yawn.
"Well! Thanks for hanging with me!" deliriously you held out your fist, Robin tilted his head to the side in confusion. You chuckled, "it's a fist bump dumbass." And to your surprise he closed the distance between the two of you, and slowly touched his knuckled to yours. His gloves were cold but you were focused on the fact that you were just inches from the boy wonder.
But a few seconds was all you got to realize how much taller he was than you before he melted back into the shadows. You stood stunned for a moment before stumbling back to your apartment, desperate for sleep.
~
"You look like hell kid" Officer Grayson greeted you with a questioning look as you waved him off of you. "Your fault for giving me hours of reading buddy." He grinned glancing down at the now filled notebook you'd brought to work. "You actually look dead kid, on lunch break we'll grab coffee," you rolled your eyes at his promise but knew you needed the caffeine.
Getting to know Officer Grayson, Dick, was surprisingly rewarding. He had years of experience and hundreds of stories that had you folded over from laughter. But there was something you were begging to learn more about, someone rather.
"Have you worked with Robin much?" your question broke the calm silence. Dick's eyes shone with some sort of pride, "I have, yeah. Good kid. Cold as hell but a damn good hero." and you nodded in reply, although cold wasn't exactly the way you'd describe Robin.
Dick's eyes lit up at something behind you, he shot up out of his cafe chair and said "look what the cat dragged! Glad to see you lil bro!" A loud enough exclamation that you turned around and locked eyes with a boy with jet black hair and piercing green eyes. The boy stood stunned at the door, starring at you and Dick before slowly approaching, eyes trained to yours before Dick pulled him into a hug. Immediately, he pushed himself out of Dick's embrace with a scowl, you couldn't help but grin at the reaction.
"Y/N meet Damian, Dames this is Y/N she's an intern at the office! Damian has classes over here so I figured we'd catch him during our break!" Dick babbled as he forcefully guided Damian into the seat next to him. Damian looked almost stunned, eyes flicking between you and his brother.
You broke Dick's rambling saying "Hi! You're a student too?" and he nodded slowly, glancing between you and Dick. "Studying what?" you tried to guide the conversation but he interrupted:
"You live in the area?"
"Nope, Gotham."
"Oh, me too." was all Damian muttered before his name was called, and he shot up, mumbling a "nice to meet you" and giving Dick another glare. Dick just grinned in response and the two of you soon headed back to the office.
~
"You had no right to do that!" Damian's roar was echoing in the cave that night. He'd just finished throwing almost everything on his person at Dick who was still uncontrollably laughing.
"C'mon Dames, were you just gonna visit your soulmate every once and a while on a rooftop for the rest of your life? Make a move lil bro. You're Bruce's kid you've got to have some game!" Dick teased back before a stray batarang was lobbed towards him.
"I've got it handled." Damian retorted angrily.
"Fine. fine. But blame Tim cuz he's the one who snitched on the rooftop hookups." Dick cooed before ducking out of the room to avoid further assault. Another screech filled the cave.
~
A few nights later, you were perched on the rooftop once again. This time you didn't have nearly enough work, but were hoping a certain distraction would stick around this time.
And he did.
"Hey" his voice was soft, and your head rose from your book to smile into the shadows.
"Hi! Whatcha got?" you noticed the silhouette was holding something.
"Come see." you could hear his chest rumbling. You felt like you were floating towards the thick railing of the rooftop.
And there he was again. Holding a sketchpad.
"You brought drawings!" you cooed, grinning as he inched closer, leather gloves flipping pages as you drank in the beautiful sketches, watercolours, and poems that filled the pages.
"What do you think?" he whispered, you swore warmth was vibrating off of him, just a few inches away from each other.
"They're beautiful" you quietly replied. He flipped another page, and it was a pencil sketch of you half asleep in your studies, on the rooftop. "From the other night!" you giggled, delicately tracing the sketch with your pinky. Robin drew a sharp breath, loud enough that your eyes were drawn up to his domino mask.
"I've got one more sketch to show you. But, I fear you won't like it." his head dropped slightly, his gloved hand toying with the bottom of the paper, as if debating whether or not to flip it.
"I'll be okay! Promise." you nudged his shoulder, holding up your pinky, a true promise, and a dangerous solution to the question making you dizzy standing next to him.
He shook his head, "look first, promise after" to which you nodded, dropping your hand and eyes to the paper.
As the page turned, you couldn't help but gasp. On the last page of the sketchbook, in the most intricate detail, were two hands. Pinky's locked.
"Take your glove off." you shot your gaze back to the hero.
"Wait." he took a step back.
You took one forward, reaching for the glove yourself.
Back again. "Y/N, wait." you froze at your name on his tongue.
"You and I both know what's under my glove, but I'm giving you an out. I've sat here for months thinking about doing this, wanting to do this. But, you deserve someone who doesn't throw their life away, who can be there for you, someone who isn't... isn't me" he gestured to his outfit, stocked with weapons.
"Who can be there for me? You've protected me more than anyone else in my life. Someone who deserves me? I'm not a trophy, I'm, I'm your soulmate."
"I know, but-" he began but you weren't finished:
"All I deserve, is someone who can love me. Can you do that?" you closed the distance, and he didn't back away.
"It's all I've ever done." he whispered. Delicately, you reached for his hand. He let you draw it from his side, holding desperately still as you peeled the glove from his left hand. And there, in the same pattern as yours, stood his mark.
"You promise?" you gave a small smile, holding up your pinky for the final time.
"Always." he closed the distance, locking your hands together as a warmth like you'd never felt spread through your hand, dancing up your arm, and bursting in your chest.
"Oh my god do you feel that?" you asked breathlessly, your right hand touching your chest.
He nodded, letting your hands drop as his right hand tilted your chin up, your eyes once again meeting a mask.
"I never thought I'd ever do this" his voice was soft, drinking in your closeness to him.
"I would've found you" you said with a grin, you had always had the sixth sense that Robin's visits to your study sessions were more than patrol.
He scoffed, "yeah my brother was gonna make sure of it."
"Your brother?" you dug deeper, fighting the itch to reach up for the mask he wore, your heart begging to see his eyes.
You felt him tug his pinky from yours, "I suppose a promise is a promise." he reached up for you, pulling the mask from his face as familiar green eyes met yours.
"Oh. My god." your jaw dropped, fitting the puzzle together.
"I guess the universe decided I was taking too long and put Richard Grayson on job. I must apologize for the coffee shop, I wasn't expecting to see my Gothamite soulmate seated across from my brother, in Bludhaven. " he sighed, eyes twinkling. You laughed in agreement.
"Quite the wingman" you mused.
Damian nodded, closing the distance as he said "don't ever tell him, but I'm thinking he was right all along" before pressing his lips to yours.
~
Weeks later you were far less sleep deprived, still loving your job in Bludhaven. Especially because a certain student was always waiting to pick you up for the ride home.
"Hi Dames!" you strolled up to your now boyfriend, pressing a kiss to his cheek while he locked your pinky in his, the two of you strolling towards the cafe that has become your shared favorite place. Settling down in a booth, you both fell into routine: sketching and studying while enjoying the other's presence.
A crazy few weeks, a huge change to your life, but a good one nonetheless. You had to hand it to-
"I knew you lovebirds would be here!" The bell on the cafe door rang, drawing you and Damian out of your focus. Damian rolled his eyes with a scoff and you gave Dick a wave.
Dick was stroll strutting around, "call me cupid the way I matched you two up!" he crooned.
Damian dryly replied, "Richard we are quite literally soulmates." but the oaf wasn't listening, too busy pretending to shoot you both with an invisible bow "cupid style".
You smiled to yourself, if only Dick knew how grateful you and Damian were to have each other... thank to him.
~~~
A/N: pure fluff for your timeline <3 hope you enjoyed!
3K notes · View notes
nouearth · 3 months
Text
sweet surrender.
bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.
summary: there's nothing better than taking your anger out on someone you hate (and fucked).
wc: 2.3k. genre: smut. warnings: bale!bruce, top!bruce, bottom!reader, bigdick!bruce, bratty!reader breeding, mouth-fucking, rough!sex, hate!sex, choking, drooling, spitting, mentions of pain slash pleasure, bruce has a dick that won't quit.
notes: lowkey on a roll with these bruce smuts!!! enjoy, m'loves!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
hate sex with bruce included kissing you with a sense of urgency. he overwhelmed you with the intrusion of his tongue. you resisted, but the wet muscle parted your lips so easily despite your efforts, and all you could do was fight back with a stronger force.
he held you against the wall, pinned you, but you utilized a surprising strength to push against his hold and bit down on his tongue in midst. an accidental move on your part, but you hated him. it made your chest swell hearing him cuss you out, and so you did it again, across his bottom lip where he'd groan again, before licking the insides of his mouth as if you were the potion to soothe his wounds.
fuck you. he'd grumble, breathing hot into your mouth after he slammed back into the wall. he speared a glare at you, into the fervent display of your eyes, and forced his lips back onto you. he hated kissing you. he hated the way your lips perfectly fit into his. he hated how your breath mixed sweetly with the scent of roasted coffee beans of his. he hated the sound of your moans when he pressed his body into yours. he hated the fact that he was pressing so close to you, practically attached to your hip.
and he hated the fact that there was not a single moment where he wanted to pull away.
fuck you. you spat at him, leered at the way his hair sweatily yet perfectly hung over his eyes as if it was a protective barrier that prevented you from dissecting his current feelings and emotion.
bruce vied for control—a dominance—that was proclaimed triumphant when he put his hands on you.
one strong hand of his laced over your hair, thick bundles at his grip, and he pulled your head back in one swift yank. your eyes opened in shock followed by a rattled groan, and a somewhat unnerving fear that you didn't want to admit led you to avoid his eyes.
bruce took his time eyeing your throat, the slow bob of your adam's apple as you thickly swallowed the ghost of coffee beans down, awaiting his next move. was he going to kiss you again? mark hickies all over you? bite hickies into you until you bled? looking beneath your eyelashes, his eyes sharpened, and for some reason, you suddenly felt smaller.
the silence around you fell to a quiet, menacing drone when he raised his free hand and one-by-one, slowly wrapped his fingers around your throat. everything was precise with him. he made sure the protrusion in your throat was centered at the space between his thumb and index. he made sure to let go of your hair so he could press you flat against the wall again, restricting your movements. and he made sure to squeeze, triggering a defiance in you, beating and pushing at his chest that only made him squeeze harder, harder, and harder.
your breath was vaulted in the back of your throat with staggers of profanity managing to slip out. you pretended it didn't affect you. despite your losing grasp in reality as bruce gradually stripped you of air, you powered through and wore a glare that crowned you a champion. he groaned. a warrior. he clenched his jaw. a king. he squeezed. and your crown shattered in a million pieces when your vision blurs, when your eyes gloss like varnish on wood, and when you shut them and a tear rolled down the flush of your cheeks.
and bruce knew he'd won when he let go, and you were gasping desperately for air. heaving as you rubbed at your neck, wincing because the muscle fibers were signaling in thrums that you were going to be bruising the morning after. though, it wouldn't be long until you found your breath completely stripped away from you again.
hate sex with bruce included forcing you down on your knees before finding a perfect grasp on the back of your head and pushing your mouth down his cock. you hated how thick he was, making you look even more meek because it was a struggle to even take in the first few inches. you coughed when he pushed lower, then gagged when the girth of his cock weighed down on your tongue and pushed air back down your throat, blocking your air passage.
open your mouth. he wasn't satisfied, mocking in his tone as he yanked your head back, and you'd use the few seconds to catch your breath as you drew your tongue out, hanging your mouth open. it was intimidating to see him in this position, towering over you as if you were a peasant to his kingdom, or like an animal as your pants were akin to one, but you'd never admit that as you glared upwards. he extended your head further back, yanked again, before thickly spitting into your mouth. or in bruce's own words, lubing your mouth.
as much control he had over you, you weren't going to take it—not like this. you scrunched your face before spitting up back at him, a few speckles landing at his cheek. it was a daring move, one that silenced the room until you could hear your heartbeat resonating through the stereos in his house.
do that again, i dare you. bruce warned—demanded—as his grasp only tightened, his cock hardening before you as it pulsed with anger. and instead of spitting, you let your saliva completely spill out, pushing it out in bubbly sputters as your tongue hung out, a move to mock him and his demands.
or what? going to fuck my mouth or something? despite his grip on you, it was loose enough for you to allow you to extend your neck and lick a stride at the underside of his meaty cock. he watched you in silence, his bare chest gradually heaving more with irritation. he was breathing through his nose, an obvious attempt to control the flame you ignited him, while you continued lazily tonguing at his cock at the plump head. you added to the glorious sheen his pre-cum had bestowed upon the pink flesh over time, lapping the thick musk up in several licks.
you'd get your answer when bruce threw you over the bed and onto your stomach. your cock found pleasurable refuge in the tousled duvet beneath you and you rocked your hips into the pocket of fabric as you waited for him, hearing him uncapping a bottle of some sort and the sounds of sticky lathers after.
jesus, what's taking so— without warning, bruce intruded into your tight hole with a slow, yet unbearable push. you pushed away, or attempted to escape from the sheer amount of pain beneath you, but he reeled you back by taking your shoulders and pinning them down to the mattress. it knocked the breath out of you. his cock, spreading you open so vividly painful, you could feel every stretch of muscle being pried open despite your natural will to enclose around him.
you opened your mouth, thinking your whimpers would come out, but your throat constricted instead, locking them back in until bruce delivered one hard snap of his strong hips, dispelling the gate to which your groans poured out in staggered and bitter pants. your toes curled at the stinging sensation, and your hands fisted into whatever fabric was in your had, but why did you love it? why did you love feeling like a doll with absolute no use in the world... except for fucking? for bruce's fucking?
think you can still run your mouth? bruce asked with no expectations of a coherent answer from you. he squeezed hard at every flesh and bone he'd come across. the back of your neck, your shoulders, your arms, your waist, bruising while the driving of his hips seemed to have been at competition with his own physical touch to see which could make you break first.
his hand ran over your back muscles, the dip of your spine, before traveling back upwards to shove your face into the mattress, once again restricting your way to life, to living, to breathing. his thick cock fucked into you while a glorious amount of lube creamed out of your violated hole, squelching and squishing with every thrust bruce would deliver in strong and heavy rhythms. he hated you. his bruising touch was evidence of that, already blooming beautiful against your skin, and he hated that he made the mistake of marking you because now you're marked as his.
you'd whine for him to keep fucking you, only because his movements rocked you into the duvet, making you fuck into the pocket of fabric. soft yet fuzzy against your skin, it was uncomfortable but you knew bruce wouldn't make you cum through his own touch. it was up to you, and you were selfish, needed to be selfish to achieve your own desires and pleasures.
you'd gotten used to the pain, soon turning into bittersweet, eye-rolling pleasure, finding yourself fucking your ass back into his thrusts, back into his meaty and throbbing cock. your ass rippled every time your skin met his, slapped loudly in the lust-driven air, and the sweat on your kindled bodies only made it more inviting as it stuck and glued you two together in a sticky mess, intertwined and passionate.
bruce held you by the hips, his fingers digging to the bone, bringing your ass back into him while he thrusted forward, ramming into you as hard as he could muster the power to in quick bursts before pacing back down into long and steady thrusts. he loved doing that. he loved hearing your moans ratter with the quickness of his thrusts. your long and drawn out hiss when he pulled out almost completely. you'd desperately wish for him to put it back in, and bruce wouldn't absolutely comply until you began whining, begging for him like a whore in heat.
please, please, please. i need it. you desperately cried out, the rim of your hole clinging onto for sanity—the very tip of his cock that you could feel bruce teasingly swirl around your hole.
you need what? bruce asked for clarification, a strong emphasis on what, and he'd pull his cock out to sheathe it in between your ass cheeks. his palms spanked you once, then again when you wouldn't answer, before groping your two soft globes and firmly kneading them until he could visibly see his handprints imprinted on your flesh. he'd fuck himself in between your cheeks, groaning at the lack of tightness compared to your pretty asshole. he felt himself coming close, and if he wanted to, he could come just like this, selfishly watching himself pour his spunk all over your back.
your cock, please. i need your big cock in me, fuck. i need you to fuck me until i'm thinking about that cock for weeks, fuck me like you hate me— fuck! your words croaked into the bed sheets, and you were apprehensive if it was enough for bruce. it was embarrassing because of how quickly submissive you became all because of his cock. you hated bruce, but not his cock. you could never. you needed him more than ever because you were close and you needed to come so bad, so fucking bad. you humped into the blanket, your hole quivering at the loss of girth, desperately enticing back bruce with multiple puckers.
like i hate you..? i despise you. bruce breathed out his final words near the shell of your ear before sheathing himself completely inside of you with one push, then proceeded to fucking you without caring that his full weight was toppled on you. without caring that the neighbors could hear your grunts and his mixing like a choir. the sloppy sounds of skin-to-skin contact turning it into a symphony of delectable sounds that he could simply get off to if he wanted to.
you kicked your feet, the immense pleasure quickly building up as if bruce hadn't taken a pause with you prior, and you were back to fucking into the blanket again. over and over, your cock slid into the soft fabric deeper until you were practically fucking a pile of fabric rather than a pocket.
and you came. your cock released your desires in thick, full shots that would stain the material for a lifetime, and you'd cream into them because bruce continued fucking you. continued fucking your ass, churning his cock in and out of you wildly until he felt his own release coming in heavy marches, like soldiers preparing for battle.
you could hear him pant, breathe a little harder and quicker than before, and his grasp tightens around your hips when he pulled his weight off of you. he loved using like this. not fucking you, but using your body to fuck him. he used his remaining strength to maneuver your hips—your body—almost lifting you as he fucked his thick cock, utilizing your hole like a fleshlight until he felt his balls startle, then twitch, then pumped in several course as his cock swelled with a desire to fill.
with a guttural moan, he slammed you back into his cock once more before his balls dumped his cum into you. thick and heavy, you can feel it coating every inch of your walls, then creamy as bruce pursued an ambition to milk himself. his fucking sounded sloppier than before as he churned himself inside of you, over-filling you with passionate hate, and you could feel it dripping out of you, down your thighs and legs and an unfortunate waste as it most likely stained the bed, the longer he used you like an abused toy.
once his cock went limp, bruce pulled out and watched with undeniable admiration as your loose hole squeezed his cum out in thick dribbles, unable to hold his warm loads for any longer because you were deservingly well-fucked and bred.
god, i hate you.hate you more.
Tumblr media
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
1K notes · View notes
redflagshipwriter · 2 months
Text
Batmom Cass : enter Barbara
Part one of 2
“You did good work,” Barbara said, in a casual tone. Proud.
Timmybird nodded and gave a flash of teeth in a smile. Didn't believe. It's nothing, look away. “Glad you think they'll pass.” He rolled his neck. “I don't want anyone to be able to prove he's Danny F.”
Cass watched their interplay casually, hair damp from the post-patrol shower and comfortably swimming in an oversized sweatshirt. She played with the ends of the sleeve as they talked.
“They can suspect it all they like, but it'd be hard to disprove this is a separate kid.” Barbara ran her palms over her wheelchair handles in an unconscious tic that meant she wanted to go, go, go. “Still, I like the idea of keeping him out of the public eye until we nail down what's going on in Illinois. This GIW group is bad news.”
Cass bit her lip and flexed her toes, uncertain. Danny was getting restless. And he was a teenager: he needed to be in school. He needed to learn, stretch his wings, grow.
But safe. He needed to be safe, first.
The trouble was she didn't know how to make him fully safe. She'd had him for four days now. Judging by the report of his death, Danny baby had been homeless and on the run for more than a month. He was hiding. Even when she was in the room, he was looking for attacks. Who was he looking for? Dad and mom Fenton? GIW group?
“-gonna hit the showers,” said her little brother.” Cash barely registered him heading to the batcave bathrooms. She was internally weighing her bat nosiness sense against her worry about pushing Danny for answers too soon.
“Am I good to meet him, Mamabird?”
Cass blinked back to awareness. “Mama bat,” she corrected. “Yes.” She cracked her lower back. Mm. Too much standing after patrol. She needed to move a little. “Breakfast. Baby wakes up soon.”
Barbara snorted. “I'll go to bed after,” she said wryly, because they had been flying and solving into the morning light. Riddler was out on the streets. “Did someone check with Alfred about adding me to the breakfast table?”
She didn't know. Cass hummed and flipped over to walk on her hands up the stairs. It sent a pleasant ache through her upper back. Stabilizing her core and legs was just the right amount of casual challenge to make her body feel better.
“Christ,” Barbara said quietly, and huffed out a laugh. The elevator dinged. “I'll see you upstairs.”
Barbara Batgirl beat Cass to the top. Cass huffed in displeasure at the loss and flipped back to her feet. She ducked into the first bathroom they passed to wash her hands.
Alfie was in the kitchen in his morning waistcoat and a thin, comfortable button up shirt. Casual day!
“Good morning, Miss Cassandra,” he said. The kitchen smelled like yeasty bread. Cass sneezed happily and peered around to see meats, cheeses, and fruits.
“Morning!” She chirped. “Barbara wants to stay for breakfast,” Cass said. Barbara wheeled in a moment later, sheepish.
“Good morning, Alfred,” she said. “If it's not too much trouble-”
“It's no trouble at all,” he reassured. “Miss Cassandra, would you add an extra place setting?”
Cass hopped to it, mimicking the placement Alfred had made. It was a nearly full table today. Timbird, Batdad, Dickbird, Cass, Danny baby, Damibat. And now Barbara bat.
She heard a jaw-cracking yawn before Danny swung open the door. “Good morning,” Danny baby yawned through his hand. His eyes were bleary. She watches with amusement as he shuffled in, face down. “Have a good ni-”
He stopped. Eyes on Barbara bat.
New adult, he was scared?
No. Cass rapidly calculated and shifted his shifting body language into emotions. Surprise, joy, love-love-lo-wrong! Not love! Sad. Wistful.
“This is my baby,” Cass said, pretending she didn't notice the reaction. “Danny. This is Barbara.”
Barbara must have noticed Danny's reaction to her. She didn't move closer, lifting a friendly hand from across the countertop.
Danny looked haunted. Danny looked small. “It's nice to meet you, Barbara,” he said. Weak smile.
She had to talk to him, Cass realized. She had to talk with him today. No more delaying. After breakfast, she would talk.
959 notes · View notes
sanguineterrain · 7 months
Text
window pains | jason todd
Tumblr media
Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.
A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.
If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡
the divider
Tumblr media
"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"
"You know who you're talking to, right?"
"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."
It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 
You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 
That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 
Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 
But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 
Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 
"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"
"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"
You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 
"How'd they get you?" you ask. 
It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.
You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?
The last one, you always know the answer to. 
"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 
He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 
Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 
"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 
"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"
"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."
That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 
You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 
"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."
"You can put them on yourself." 
His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 
Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 
"Can I crash here?" 
"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.
You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 
"What're you doing?" you ask. 
"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."
"I didn't say that, I said—"
"I can read between the lines." 
"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 
"What situation?"
You turn your head. "Nothing."
Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 
"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."
"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."
Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"
You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."
"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."
"Lie the fuck down, Todd."
His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."
Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 
Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 
Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 
"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."
He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 
"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 
You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 
"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 
He squints. "It's August."
"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 
"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 
You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 
"You're tired of me," he says. 
Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  
"You are."
"I'm not tired of you, Jay."
You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 
You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 
You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.
You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 
"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 
"I'd be tired of me." 
"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"
Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  
"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."
"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 
He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 
"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 
"I don't need 'em."
"You do. You need another on your forehead."
"It'll heal fine without it."
Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 
"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."
He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."
"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 
Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."
"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."
He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 
"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."
Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 
"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."
His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.
You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.
His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 
"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 
You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 
"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 
3K notes · View notes
gay-dorito-dust · 8 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
How these goofs react to you letting go of their hand all of a sudden…
Dick’s is a bit short cuz it is. Take that what you will. Plush he looks like the type to have a somewhat skincare routine/ enjoy participating in a skincare routine but that’s just me.
Dick Grayson exe has stopped working.
No literally, he just stares at his hand that you let go of as it grasps thin air.
You broke him. Congratulations.
Now apologise to poor Dickie bird for pulling such a stunt.
‘Why did you let go? What’s wrong?’ He’d ask, reaching a hand over to try and grab your hand again, only for you to pull away.
You shrugged ‘nothing, I just don’t feel like holding hands right now.’
Dick blinked. ‘Is it because I’m wearing moisturiser and it’s making your hand slip out of mine?’ He asked out of the blue and you couldn’t help but smile at his spontaneity sometimes.
‘No, it’s not because of that, even though it doesn’t get a bit…much sometimes.’ You muttered the last part under your breath. Dick beamed brightly when it wasn’t anything that he had done specifically that made you want to stop holding hands, and immediately grabbed for your hand again and intertwined your fingers together. ‘Good because I hope you know that I’m not letting go of your hand now.’ He said.
You couldn’t bring yourself to stop him as Dick was at his cutest when he was happy and beaming brightly; Besides it was a silly prank you pulled that wouldn’t have lasted long anyways. ‘Fine by me, Dickie bird. Fine by me.’ You said to yourself as you both walked home from a date night well done.
Jason Todd would only try to hold your hand again as though nothing happened.
Then when you’d slip your hand from him a second time, Jason would stop, grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours and hiss. ‘Stop it, you’re acting like you don’t want to hold my hand.’
‘Well what if I don’t to?’ You asked him innocently enough and Jason stops to look at you, eyes softened. ‘If you didn’t want to hole my hand chipmunk, all you had to do was say so.’ Just as he was about to let go of your hand completely, you were quick to hold his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.
Jason raised his brows at you. ‘I didn’t peg you as the type to backpedal on your own prank sweetheart.’ He began. ‘Now I wonder why that is?’ He’d ask as he began to lead you both down the street again. You pouted, squeezing his hand, too stubborn to admit the fact that you loved the way that Jason’s hand felt within your own; Feeling protected, safe and sound. Also with the way that his hand encased yours in pure warmth was just an added bonus.
‘You keep me warm.’ You said but the way you worded it made it sound more of a question than anything else, and Jason picked that up almost immediately as he wolfishly smirked at you. ‘Is that your sole reason. That I keep you warm?’ He asks as he leaned towards your face, his hot breath fanning across your face. ‘Now why don’t I believe that.’ He adds and you took a deep breath to compose yourself before responding. ‘Believe me or not but that’s my only reason for holding your hand.’
Jason pouts as he holds his free hand against his chest as though he were hurt by your response. ‘If all I am to you is a hand warmer, then I guess I must accept my fate.’ He joked and you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, fondly remembering the night that he confessed his adoration for everything theatre. ‘I guess you should.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘We’ve got some books that require some much needed reading waiting for us at home after all.’ You added and smiled as Jason practically dragged you all the way home as he strode long strides.
Damian Wayne would react to you unceremoniously letting go of his hand the same way he’d react if someone were to insult his entire lineage; with a disgusted sneer.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He’d ask, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously unamused.
‘Didn’t feel like holding your hand anymore.’ You admitted with a shrug.
Damian huffs. ‘If that’s your reasoning then so be it.’ He’d then continue to walk off without another word.
Yep, that was Damian’s way of telling you that you just lost hand holding privileges for a week. Upon noticing this, you were quick to try and catch up to him and attempted multiple times to hold his hand once more, only for Damian to swiftly avoid your advances as though you were the plague.
‘Damian.’ You grunted as he dodged another one of your attempts of holding his hand. ‘Hold still and let me hold your fucking hand.’ Damian raised his brow at you and scoffs. ‘Tt. Done being childish have you?’ He asks rhetorically as you tried to hold his hand for the third time in the past five minutes. ‘It was only a prank Dami!’ You exclaimed, stopping in your footfalls when Damian stopped abruptly in front of you.
‘I’m aware.’ He answered dryly.
‘If I say sorry, will you let me hold your hand?’ You asked, regretting ever pulling a prank on Damian on the first place because no matter how low you’d go, Damian would somehow manage to go into the depths of hell to get his own back tenfold. Damian raised his brows. ‘Perhaps. Depends on how well put together your apology is.’
You groaned in frustration, knowing that you’ll never win with this little shit. ‘Fine. I’m sorry for pranking you Damian. How’s that for an apology?’ You said as quickly as you could just to get it over with in hopes of sparing yourself even more embarrassment. Damian pondered for a little bit and was about to say no and go back to walking, but when he caught a glimpse of your face, he knew then and there that he had truly gone soft as he found himself offering up his hand to you.
‘Don’t do it again.’ Was all he said and you immediately beamed as you clasped your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as you began to walk down the street.
1K notes · View notes
angelltheninth · 11 months
Note
hii could i req for a red hood jealousy smut? been thinkin abt him recently (only if ur not busy!) tysmm btw i love love your fics :))
Jealousy can make sex so much better. Or so I hear.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, jealousy, semi-public sex, alleyway sex, rough sex, possessive sex, creampie
A/N: A delicious little smut blurb for you to indulge in. Enjoy.
Tumblr media
Everyone who knew Jason knew he had a jealous streak in him, a vengeful streak, a slightly sadistic one as well. You knew it well and you craved to see that side of him come out for you more. Which is why you had no problem with him dragging you out of the club you'd been dancing in and fucking you in the dim, empty alleyway behind the club.
"Good for you babe, finally getting what you fucking wanted!" Jason dug his fingers into your ass cheeks as he used them to hold you up against the wall. "Pretty bold of you, entertaining those shitbags while I'm bringing you drinks. Thank fuck your pussy is right here for me otherwise I'd do a lot more then throw those drinks into their faces." Jason's pants were all the way down his legs, gathered up around his boots as he kept increasing his punishing pace.
You fisted your hands through his hair and pulled him closer, "You love fucking me like this. I know you do. And I... I need it hard tonight, please Jason."
"You could have asked like a normal person. But no you had to go and play as a fucktoy. In a club we frequent. You know damn well I'd give you anything. You will take anything, no, everything I have to give you as your punishment." He couldn't keep the possessive look off his face, couldn't stop his lips from clamming your lips, your throat, your shoulders, your collarbones, "Mine." He growled, "You're mine. This is mine. This sloppy, tight cunt is all mine. Those guys are lucky I even let them lay eyes on you."
"If I'm yours then you better prove it Jason." And he knew exactly how. Undeniable proof. Warm, thick cum pumping into your pussy, flowing down your thighs, staining your clothes, "Yes, mmn, more, you have more for me? I don't think I've learned my lesson yet." You clenched your pussy around him, trying to squeeze out as much cum as you could. He had much more to give, more then you can take in fact. His cum will be staining his bike seat for sure by the time he's done laying his claim.
3K notes · View notes
dxckgrxsonx · 1 year
Note
hello, random Jason thot i feel like i need to share:
he is the type to ask for sexual related stuff very casually in the most unexpected moments — “hey do you have a second for me to bend you over and use your holes?” “c’mere so i can hit you from the back real quick” “babe, do you like how my cum tastes?” “you mind if i fuck you in your sleep tonight?” “you want me to go raw next time we do doggie?” while you are making toast in the middle of the day or doing the dishes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
that's it, that's my thot. thanks.
Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 1.2k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Porn no Plot - Unprotected Sex -Shower Sex - Kitchen Sex - Dirty Talk - Jason 'no verbal filter' Todd - Swearing - Fluff. Notes - i think you should share more thots with me 😉 i will listen to whatever you have to say. also, the idea of Jason fucking you in your sleep???? hOT. I’ll be writing that at some point.
Tumblr media
MASTERLIST
**
He asks you questions at the most random times.
You think his brain doesn’t have an off switch. Thoughts constantly whirling around on a washing machine spin cycle. Each one thunking against the sides until he tugs open the door and spits out the first thing to fall at his feet.
Last week, he asked you through a mouthful of food what word you would use to describe The Red Hood.
Apparently, ‘hot’, was entirely the correct answer and he’d spent the rest of the meal insufferably pleased with himself until you’d laughed and kicked him under the table.
The week before that, he woke you up in the middle of the night and asked you, half asleep, if you would still love him if he was a worm. In response, you’d rolled over to hug him close and mumbled, “Mmm-hm. I’d love you no matter what.”
And when you woke up that next morning, it was with Jason smudging kisses across your chest. Right over your heart. You didn’t recall the conversation but he did and it must have meant something to him because he didn’t leave your side for hours.
But this time, he pokes his head out of the shower whilst you’re brushing your teeth and casually asks, “You mind joining me in here? It’s been a while since we’ve had shower sex and i’m real fuckin’ hard.”
Surprise sparks like a blown electric fuse and your toothbrush clatters into the sink whilst you choke on a mouthful of toothpaste, “Jason!” You sputter, staring at him through the mirror and feeling heat scathe up your neck. “What the hell?”
Grabbing your arm, he says nothing and tugs you into the shower cubicle, places you directly under the almost scalding spray of water and cracks a smile when you swat at his chest. Instantly, your pyjamas turn see through and Jason whistles appreciatively, mouth hooking up in a devilish smirk.
“Now there’s a pretty sight.” He says, giving you a heated once over.
Your nipples poke against your shirt and Jason wastes no time in rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive peaks until you sigh softly. He dips his fingers under the hem of your pyjama top and smooths his warm palms up over your breasts to remove it.
Shuffling you backwards until you press against the cold tile wall you hiss through your teeth, “You’re a bastard, Todd.”
Ducking his head to kiss and bite at your neck Jason chuckles, voice lowering to a challenging drawl, “Call me Todd again, sweetheart. I dare you.”
Dragging your open palm over his cock you turn your head and kiss him slowly, deeply. You lick into Jason’s mouth and feel him throb in your hand. Sinking your teeth into his bottom lip you tug until he growls.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Todd. Did that hurt?”
Jason grabs at your thighs, yanks your shorts down your legs with the efficiency of someone not leaking precum all over your fingers. Slotting his hands under your thighs he picks you up, forces your legs around his thick waist. His cock presses hot and heavy against your pussy and you feel yourself drool over the fat, flushed head.
“You’re really in for it now, baby.” He says, eyes alight. “You thought I was a bastard before. Things are about to get a hell of a lot worse for you now.”
You smile, thoroughly amused, “Promises. Promises.”
**
Slotting two slices of bread into the toaster you reach for your phone sitting on the kitchen counter.
Jason approaches you silently and you wonder, not for the first time, how someone with so much mass can move so quietly. You don’t catch his presence until he’s within arms reach and you think that if you were a criminal, you’d be as good as unconscious.
Slipping his arms around your waist he nuzzles into your back, moves to rest his chin on your shoulder, “Whatcha watchin’?”
Turning the screen so he can see the video, you feel him laugh when you say, “Cat fail videos.”
Reaching silently for your phone he locks the screen and places it facedown on the counter. Turning in the strong cage of his arms you walk your fingers over his chest and up to his shoulders. Humming quietly in the back of your throat you sweep a flyaway strand of hair from his eyes.
“Can I help you?” You ask.
“Do you have a second for me to bend you over the kitchen counter? Wanna fill you up.”
“Wow.” You snigger, half amused, half aroused. “You’re not one for subtlety, huh?”
Spinning you around, Jason presses your hips into the counter and quickly unbuttons your jeans to slide them down to your ankles with your underwear. He shuffles around behind you and you hear him drag the zipper down on his pants.
“Jus’ like the thought of you dripping with my come.” He answers, and you feel your clit swell. A touch of his Gotham accent colours his words. “You’re not going to deny me that, are you?”
Kicking one foot free of your jeans you hook your knee over the lip of the counter, spread your puffy pussy open for Jason to see how wet you are. Your arousal leaks from your entrance and Jason drags his fingers through the wetness before wiping it over the head of his cock.
“If I end up burning my toast I’m not going to be happy.” You say.
Pressing the fat head of his cock to your clenching hole Jason pushes forwards, groans deeply when your walls yield around him and squeeze at his thick girth. Bracing one hand on your waist, Jason rocks his hips, stuffs himself into your pussy inch by inch until he bottoms out.
“You were made for taking my cock, sweetheart.” Jason moans, snapping his hips up. Hooking his thumbs under the swell of your ass he spreads you open so he can watch his cock sink into you. “Fuckin’ Christ, can feel you squeezin’ at me, baby. S’almost like I didn’t fuck you yesterday.”
Whimpering out his name you try to reach for the toaster, worried that it’s going to burn.
“I don’t give a fuck about your toast.” Jason growls, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back. “I’ll make you breakfast myself when I’m finished.”
**
Sat on the sofa you tug your fingers through Jason’s hair.
His head rests in your lap, legs thrown over the arm of your sofa so you can both fit somewhat comfortably. The TV drones in the background, a movie playing that you’ve quickly lost interest in. You’ve found that your attention settles on Jason, on the stubborn knots in his hair and the warmth of him resting on your thighs.
“Comfy?” You ask, just to make sure.
Humming softly he glances up at you, and when your eyes meet he smiles, “You’re beautiful.”
Emotion drags itself up your throat and you stroke his cheek tenderly, lovingly. You open your mouth to speak but there’s a lump in your throat and you quickly realise that you don’t even know what to say. Vaguely, you recognise that Jason hasn’t taken his eyes off you.
Opening your mouth to try again Jason beats you to it, “I know, baby. Y’don’t have to say it. I know.”
Rubbing the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip, Jason presses a soft kiss there.
“Hey, you mind if I fuck you in your sleep tonight?”
Flicking his forehead you snigger, “Do you not have a verbal filter?”
Giving you an unimpressed look, his eyes glitter, “What do you think?”
**
8K notes · View notes
superbat-love · 3 months
Text
Clark: Bruuuce, would you still like me if I were an alien?
Bruce: You are an alien, Clark. You’re also high on painkillers.
Clark: You’re so meaaan. You don’t see me as human!
Bruce: That’s because you’re not human.
Clark: Now that’s just cruel.
Bruce: [sighs] But you’re also more human than any human I’ve ever met, Clark. You’re better than any of us.
Clark: [sniffling] Thanks. You know that I’d still like you if you’re an alien, right?
Bruce: Hn, that’s good to know, Clark.
Clark: [mumbles Kryptonian endearments]
Bruce: …Clark, would you still like me if I were a bat?
7K notes · View notes
sunnyhascome · 3 months
Text
Jason: *unbuttoning shirt* God, it's so hot in here
Y/n: I know that but why are you unbuttoning MY shirt?
Tumblr media
789 notes · View notes