#dcu one shot

[allthegothihopgirls]

at LEAST once jason (with tim) has dragged damian along with them clubbing as a designated driver (if he wasn't being bribed with driving the batmobile he would NOT be going, zero chance)

they all go suited up because 1. tim won't go as a civilian (bad for his reputation etc etc). 2. every gothamite knows not to ask a robin-boy for ID. 3. jason claims to have never gotten more free drinks than when he goes as hood.

damian will walk in, accompany jason to the bar so he can get a ginger ale, and promptly situate himself on a barstool (the bartenders WILL look out for him + get him free refills of whatever soft drink he wants), observing his brothers and muttering about them being "imbeciles".

it takes a couple of hours before jason starts coming over to damian, pleading for him to join a dance circle, or show off a trick.

jason ends up bargaining down to damian walking around with him whilst he talks to girls, because "chicks dig guys with a paternal instinct" and it's gotham, and everyone's under the influence, so no one's going to question why there's a 13 year old in the nightclub. instead they see red hood with his little brother robin, and think it's sweet.

the one condition of damian being their designated driver is that dick is under no circumstances allowed to find out. one time dick called tim, and he was too tipsy to answer anything but "damian" when asked if he had a way home, and subsequently "no, he's here" when dick assumed (already pissed, and about to rant about how they can't rely on a 13 year old to drive them home) damian would just be driving over to pick them up. they did not hear the end of it for weeks. + going forward jason confiscated tim's phone every time they walked into a nightclub.

"he's 13, legally, he cannot be in a nightclub, OR driving anyone home"

it was worse when he found out they went suited up. tim copped it the worst, because jason had an apartment to go home to, while tim was stuck in the manor listening to all of dick's hate-fuelled rambling about jason and his childishness, as well as what he had to say about tim's own behavior.

for damian it was win-win though, dick loves him too much to be mad at him about it (even though he KNOWS he has the common sense to Not Get Into Those Situations), AND he got to drive the batmobile (he manages to drive around gotham for over 45 minutes before a drunk jason starts to suspect they aren't 'going straight home')

[amourlyns]

❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

𐙚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which batman visits crime alley, and the reader indulges the bat with sweet notes and baked goods.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: none

𐙚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: inspired by this post. thought it was the cutest thing ever and i wanted to write it out, something short n sweet !! dedicated to @armin-ocean-eyes

⟡ ⠀ | 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲. Of course, The Bat doesn’t want to jinx his nightly patrol but (…) it’s been nice.

In all honestly, it finally felt like a break. A time to hunker down and take time to focus on his parents. A stroll through Crime Alley would do. Bruce never forgets about his parents, nor does he forget that night. He comes back to remind himself of what happened. How he couldn’t stop it. How he failed to protect them. It’s a constant reminder, a punishment.

Tension never leaves Bruce’s body. He’s always so high strung, constantly prepared for fight or flight. Shoulders are tense, brows are furries and teeth are gritted. This was his very being now.

Late nights, cold and oh, so lonely. The heavy bass of boots sloshing through rain water across the concrete street. Vengeance has filled the role of Gotham’s protector for long enough to know everything about the city he tirelessly protects. He knows this city better than anyone else.

But he still can’t stomach the alleyway.

Today, Bruce doesn’t bring flowers, but he brings himself. And hopefully, that’s enough for them.

From above the street, unbeknownst to the Bat. He has an angel, a watcher if you will. The city has swallowed him whole and spat him right back at out tonight. Senses are diminished, hazy from the beatings of tonight. Usually, he’s more attentive than this.

Funnily enough, you just moved into the city of Gotham three weeks ago. It’s a dreary, dull city. But at least it’s away from home. Right? Sure, the apartment you were currently living in definitely seemed haunted and it literally oversaw the alleyway the Waynes died in. Why did no one tell you they got mugged? (…) But what could you do? It’s shitty but the only thing you could afford in this damned economy.

And dude, it was definitely haunted.

You actually thought you were hallucinating the first time you laid your eyes on it. The fucking Bat, Vengeance. Gotham Cities actuals protector? It was odd and horrifying. You expected to see him raging through the alley in his moody glory. Big, defiant, and spooky!

But he actually seemed defeated? In a way? His strides were slow. Then, he knelt down onto the pavement and stayed there. It’s weird, this habitual routine of the Bat coming by and kneeling happened constantly. Well, to be fair he did patrol your building after that. Scouring the rooftops for any signs of peril within the area.

When he was done, he would come back to your building and linger on the fire escape. Sometimes you could hear his heavy footsteps on the rooftops or the iron steps.

Now, no one ever said you were the brightest in the bunch. You moved to Gotham for goodness sake. Anyways, you decided to actually make contact with the Bat. Which in theory, sounds like a good idea because who wouldn’t want a hero in their pocket? Well, a vigilante. But you digress (…) If coming near the alley brings him down, maybe he needs a lift?

The general idea was, leave a note or a gift for Vengeance and leave him be. So, that’s how it begun.

It was the third time Bruce visited the crime alley. This time, he had the intention to make his trip revolve only around his parents.

But then he saw you.

Granted, you were definitely not expecting to see anyone or someone like the Batman at this time of night. So you scrambled off of your balcony and dropped some sort of post-it note on the way out. There were three things on Bruce’s mind. How many times have you seen him and did you know his habits or who he was? Paranoia gnaws away at his guts and creates a nasty hole in his stomach.

He was a master of overthinking.

The Bat was quick to snatch up the post-it note you dropped, taking the time to read and analyze your penmanship. Was it lined with some sort of poison? Was it a tracking device? He waits for a moment. Grunting at the words etched into the paper.

〞I don't know what you're going through but I know you'll get through it. Xoxo. 〞

Huh.

Alfred would tease him for this.

An admirer? He was stumped.

It’s been about a week since you’ve seen Vengeance, your gifts of food and ever abundant notes never stopped though. You were starting to think he changed his route ever since that night he caught you on the railing.

First off, he was terrifying up close (the man was ten feet away) and second off, how was he able to catch you. Some part of you expected the man to interrogate you or something.

He didn’t, thank goodness. But you kind of missed seeing the cryptic Bat.

On the other hand, Bruce decided to do some research on you. A through background check would never hurt and who knows if you wanted to kill him? It could all be a facade. Each baked good and beverage you left out for the Bat was analyzed and tested. It could’ve been poisoned, laced, or worst, set to detonate. He was taking precautions. But Alfred insisted it was a good gesture.

Whatever it was, you never stopped. Bruce changed his route of course, there was no reason to let his guard down. But, he did appreciate the notes. To an extent. He just couldn’t help but think of the uncertainty.

The latest one he was holding onto was nothing short of thoughtful.

〞I hope you're having a good day :) (Btw, I haven’t seen you around!〞

So for the most part you were attentive. So he could commend you for that.

Despite all of the alarms in his brain telling him to stick to the new route, he returns to the old route for your sake. The very least he could do was thank you for the messages and treats. At least, that’s what Alfred said. For once, he didn’t feel like being stubborn and listened. The first thing he saw was your silhouette against the glass of your sliding door. Then, your emergence.

Bruce is frozen in place. But you’re waving frantically and running down the steps to greet him. Should he turn away? Just leave and never show up again? What if ⸻

❛ OHMYGOSH, OH MY GOSH. YOU’RE REAL! YOU’RE HERE! I WAS STARTING TO THINK I WAS BEING DELUSIONAL AND SEEING THINGS. WHOA, YOU’RE TALLER IN PERSON. AND LIKE SCARY. SORRY, SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN THAT. WOW. ❜

You’re realizing how that sounded; Bruce notices how you cower in fear. Despite his own anxiety driving him up a wall. The least he could do was say thank you, or show his appreciation. It takes him a few moments to say anything. He can hardly hold eye contact, but it eventually comes out.

❛ I (…) I APPRECIATE IT. ❜

Well. You definitely didn’t expect him to sound like that. His response was so soft you couldn’t even tell if he was directing that towards you. It was so quiet he might as well been talking to himself⸻ and before you could even ask him another question, he’s gone by the time you look up.

Introvert much?

[pandorasb1tch]

Dick: I’ll take you through the whole thing. I’ll be like your guide.

Y/N: like Gandalf through Middle Earth?

Dick: okay first of all, let’s take the Lord of the Rings references and put them in a deep dark cave where no one will ever find them.

Y/N: except Smeagol. He lives in a cave.

[jasntodds]

Too Heavy | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds​ : Can I get Jason Todd (doesn’t matter which version) with the prompts: bloodied knuckles, wiping the others tears away, as well as crying into their chest. Maybe bloodied knuckles bcs of punching something in a mental breakdown and then the rest happens.  Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompts

Summary: Sometimes things get a little too heavy for Jason

Warnings: Angst, blood, mentions of death, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,802

A/n: I was listening to a lot of Too Heavy by The Plot In You while I wrote this so here we are lol If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @peteprkerlibrary​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Everyone has bad days. They come and they go. It gets better. It always gets better. But for Jason, his bad days are sometimes so rough and harsh, the world collapses from under him. He falls through the cracks into a black abyss, surrounded by every failure he’s ever had. He falls and falls and falls until he finally hits the bottom and the wind is sucked from his lungs in a hard smack. Leaving him alone in the pitch black coldness. Today is one of those days.

He’s just gotten back from patrol and he was quiet not to wake you. He walks steadily to the bathroom but his thoughts are circling the drain. Every step he takes is like twenty pounds added to his ankles and another thought joins the damned ride. Jason’s chest grows heavy as he finally reaches the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The worst nights of patrol involve kids and tonight did. It’s always the most innocent of people that get to him. Most nights, he can handle it because it’s part of the job. It’s one of the reasons he puts the helmet on every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is different because it didn’t have the hopeful ending it should have and it’s not fucking fair.

Jason’s hands grip the bathroom counter so hard he thinks he might shatter it in his palms. He almost hopes he does. He looks at himself in the mirror, his back slightly hunched over and he looks hollow. A discarded shell of who he should have been. And he can’t stand it. His head spins while his eyes slam shut and his grip tightens harder against the cool stone.

His chest starts to heave as his breathing quickens. His chest grows heavy and he wants to start ripping out every single one of his organs in hopes it’ll lift some of the weight. The heaviness is suffocating and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be his end.

But he knows better.

And this is the never-ending hell he’s trapped in while the inability to save the kids tonight triggers memories to flood back like overflowing rivers in a flash flood.

There’s the echo of metal on concrete seeping into his blood stream and that menacing laugh that never should be called a laugh beats against his eardrum. The feeling of the panic he felt that day wraps him in a cruel and painful hug as if to be living off of his inability to breathe properly. Images of the Joker and the look on his mom’s face flash across his eyes and he can’t take the heaviness of it all anymore.

The grief he suffers with is nearly paralyzing and it is agonizing. They say grief gets better but when is it that supposed to happen? Because it’s been years and he can’t breathe and he wants to rip his lungs out of his chest just to feel anything other than this. He was just a kid.

Jason was a just a kid.

Tears burn his eyes, one slipping by and sliding down his cheek and he grits his teeth so hard they nearly shatter under the pressure. All he wants is for it all to stop for even a second. He wants one damn second of relief.

He looks up at his own reflection once more and he can see some bruising from last week and he hates it. The white streak in his hair almost seems whiter in the light of the bathroom and he hates it. He hates it. He hates it and he can’t do it. He punches the mirror in a quick motion, just once and it shatters into the sink and over the counter.

“Fuck.” Jason groans because he knows it was loud and he can’t stop the tears now. They’re drenching his face and his breathing is racing, quivering.

Blood spills into the sink as Jason hovers his shaking hand over it. Not a single part of him even cares or pays the stinging any mind. All he can do is try his best to breathe and shake his thoughts away but nothing works. They’re still there. Flashing across his eyes like lightning in the middle of a raging storm.

His legs start to feel weak as if he’s just gotten done running for miles on end. It’s getting harder to stand the more he tries to fight his own breath and thoughts. His head spins and he his stomach turns and twists into gnawing nausea. And he can’t even be bothered to stand anymore because that is just getting too damn hard too. His own body is growing too heavy with every passing thought and he swears that’s some sort of cruel joke.

Jason sits on the floor against the counter, hanging his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. Tears fall down his cheeks and he tries to fight them off with every thought he has but nothing works. They fall anyway, staining his cheeks in a wet mess.

“Jason?” You call from outside the door. 

The shattering of glass woke you up and for a few seconds, you thought someone had actually broken in. And you were nearly frozen, stuck thinking if you had a weapon of any sort in the bedroom you could use. But then those seconds faded and you didn’t hear footsteps or shuffling through the apartment. You didn’t hear anything and when you checked the time to see it was after three, you knew.

“Jay?” You call again, knocking on the door gently when he doesn’t answer.

Your groggy voice breaks his heart. He never meant to wake you up.

Jason slides his hands over his face and clears his throat. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Jason tries to stabilize his voice but you can hear the weakness and quiver. He’s mastered the art of hiding pain but not disguising the pain of crying.

Taking the knob in your hand, you twist it slowly, gently pushing the door open. You spot Jason still in his Red Hood gear, minus the helmet, sitting on the floor with drops of blood on the floor. He keeps his head hung and his forearms on his knees. You spot blood on his knuckle with open wounds before you see the broken mirror and your heart just breaks for him.

You step in slowly and cautiously as if moving too quickly will make him dissolve right into the floor. “Hey,” You crouch down beside him, tilting your head to try and get a look at his face that’s covered by his messy hair. “What happened, Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason forces the words from the back of his throat and he hates how weak they sound. 

You don’t like the answer because anyone who’s fine doesn’t break a mirror. Anyone who’s fine doesn’t sit on the bathroom floor at three in the morning with bloody knuckles crying. He’s not fine but Jason has never been very good at admitting to anyone when he’s not. He’d rather drown than ask for a life preserver.

You move in front of him, sitting on your knees. You reach out cautiously, putting your hands on his wet cheeks. Jason’s eyes shut down hard with your touch and you’re so gentle with him. Why? What’s he done to deserve it?

You pick his head up softly and Jason lets you. His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at you. His pretty blue eyes are now a haunting shade of navy, like the sky over the ocean in the middle of hurricane. Why does the world treat him with such cruelty?

“Please, go back to bed.” He nearly begs you because you shouldn’t have to deal with all of his trauma.

It’s not fair for you to lose sleep over him. He swears you shouldn’t and you don’t deserve it. All he wants is to be alone with his grief. If anyone has to suffer what he went through, it has to be him. It can’t involve you. Not you.

But you’re stubborn and that thing in your chest beats endlessly for him.

You can see his chest moving harshly with every breath and he might be Red Hood but he was Jason Todd first. A kid trying to survive the best he could. A kid who just wanted to learn and be a kid. Smart mouth and relentless as hell. But a kid no one looked out for. Red Hood looks out for so many people, but who’s supposed to look out for Jason Todd?

“Please, I’m fine.” Jason voice finally cracks as a tear escapes his bottom lid. “Just go to bed. I’ll be there a minute.”

You move your hands from his cheeks and he thinks, for a second that for once, you might actually listen to him. And he’d be lying if that didn’t hurt, too. But, it’s you and you were never very good at following his instructions even on good days so you move closer to him and stretch out your arms.

“Come here, Jay.” Your voice is soft, etched in worry and love.

He’s reluctant at first because he knows if he does, he’ll lose it entirely. Every piece of him that’s been able to hold in a sob will finally crack and that’ll be it. But he sees the worry in every tired line of your face and you always look so inviting.

“I’m worried about you. Please.” You plead with him, your voice cracking with a mix of tiredness and sadness. And Jason can’t hold it in anymore because you’re worried about him.

Jason moves his legs and moves closer to you, resting his head against your chest because at his point, it’s all too heavy for him to even try for a proper hug. And folding into you seems a hell of a lot easier for everyone. You wrap one arm around his side and rest your other hand in his hair. And just like he breaks.

A sob rips through his throat, echoing through the bathroom and you have to swallow the lump that forms in your throat. He shakes against you, sliding his hands to your back and holding onto your shirt. His grip is tight as if he’s stuck between thinking you’ll disappear if he lets go or that he’ll disappear if he does. Your hand runs through his hair and you try to console him, knowing there isn’t much that can help at this point. But you try by playing with his hair and whispering softly to him despite your own heart aching and breaking for him.

Tears brim your own eyes as you hold him against you. If you could, you would claw out your own heart and replace his with yours. Maybe that would help some of his agony. Maybe that would make his pain a little more tolerable. Maybe if you could swap out your hearts, you could take some of his pain away. You’d do it if it meant he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Minutes tick by and his breathing is still harsh against you but the sobs have slowed. His grip is still iron-tight on your shirt and all Jason wants is for the world to stop spinning. He wants the aching in his chest to stop and he wants everything around him to stop feeling so damn heavy.

You pick his head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands again. His cheeks are tear stained and you swear you’ve never seen him look so broken before. Your thumb awipe over his cheeks, brushing the tears away gently.

Jason nearly shudders with the action.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You assure him and your voice is strained as if begging him to believe you.

“It’s fucking not.” He sputters, his brows pulling together and you can see him clench his jaw. “It’s all shit and those kids deserved fucking better.” His breath is hot, boiling on your skin as he seethes. And you know what lead him here tonight.

He told you. Right to your face he told you he died. He left out the gory details of it all for your own sake but you know he was just a kid. And you know why he was there and about the Joker. He was just a kid.

“Kids?” You questions and you know Jason always has a bad night when it involves kids.

“Forget it.” He lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to know the details.

“Hey, no.” You shake your head, eyes scanning over his face as your brows pull together. “I’ll listen all night, okay? I won’t ask anything if you don’t want me to, okay? You can talk or not. But, you’re gonna be okay.” Your eyes lock with his and he wants to believe you.

But he also knows he’ll back here again. He always comes back here. Haunted. The ghost of who he was then and the ghost of who he should have been follow him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake them as much as he wants to.

He places his hands over yours and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are whenever he does this. “Just so damn sick of it.” His voice is rough and exhausted.

“I know.” You nod with understanding.

You’ll never be able to understand how he feels or what he goes through but you try. And you see it across his face. You see it in the way he turns in his sleep, when he actually gets sleep. You see it in the way he’s always observing everything around him, always on guard. And you can see it in the way he is with his weapons, there’s always at least two weapons on him at any given moment. As much as you want to understand exactly what goes on inside of his head, you won’t but you can see it. So, you try your best to help and just be there in capacity he’ll let you.

“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I’ll wash your hair, clean up your hand, and we can get into bed? I’ll rub your back and you can tell me what happened if you want. Or I can read to you until you fall asleep.”

He’s almost always reluctant when it’s been bad. He never thinks he deserves the kindness and care you offer to him. On good days, he can accept it. It’s something he struggles with still because no one ever been so kind and careful with him before. So, it’s hard but on good days, he finds it easier to accept. But on bad days, like these, he’s reluctant because if he can’t see the good himself, why should anyone else? But he looks at your eyes that glossy with worry and you give him this look that makes him feel like he’s been put under a microscope. And you would do anything for him.

“Thanks.” He mutters, taking your hands away from his face. “I got it.”

“I know.” You nod your head. “I want to.” You smile gently at him, tilting your head slightly to the right. “You’re not alone, ya know?” You assure him because you think it must be lonely dealing with everything he goes through. “I got you.” 

He knows. As hard as it is for him to accept the care and kindness you offer him, he knows because he notices everything. He notices how he always wakes up with a blanket on him when he falls asleep on the couch and the way you always have his favorite protein bars on hand even though you don’t like them. You’re the one missing sleep when you have work in the morning to sit on the bathroom floor with him. It’s hard to accept sometimes and he gets in his own head about it sometimes, but at the end of the night, he has you.

And you’ve always had a way of lifting some of that weight for him, maybe without even trying.

“Okay.” Jason finally agrees, still a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You get to your feet and offer him your hand.

He almost chuckles because you can’t actually help him from the floor. But he takes your hand in his anyway, getting to his feet. You look up to him with gentle eyes before closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

It takes a few seconds before you feel Jason relax under your hug and his arms come around your waist. His chin lays on the top of your head and he feels like he can breathe a little better now. 

When things get a little too heavy, at least he has you to help lift some of the weight.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog​

[layla4567]

Let me take care of you

Pairing: Bruce!Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are very close to Bruce but lately he seems very distant or cutting, one day he will come to the mansion beaten and you will have to heal him.

Warnings: Not proofread, Injuries,bit of blood mention, secrets, fluff, worry/angst,

Word Count: 3k

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

You hadn't known Bruce for long, but it seemed like he had been in your life from minute zero. You didn't have the pleasure of knowing him personally when he was just a child, but he grew up and met you. It was pure chance, you were late for work looking at the ground as usual and you didn't notice the people crossing in front of you until you suddenly collided with a boy with hair as dark as his clothes. He looked at you sad and apologizing profusely, you only had eyes to see and admire that beautiful serious but worried face. After that you two became good friends, you saw each other often, sometimes he invited you to his mansion. You had met his butler who soon took a liking to you. In Bruce you had found peace, a rare and pleasant serenity in contrast to the chaotic city of Gotham. And you could say that the feeling was mutual, young Wayne had found in you a light of hope, someone to cling to, it is true that he already had Alfred but he was someone already older and Bruce was afraid of losing him. Besides, what he felt for you went far beyond a simple friendship. In him he discovered a new rebirth, a soft and tender side that he never dared to show, you were his light in the middle of the darkness and he didn't want you to go out. In a city like that full of dangers, you had each other.

He had never told you about his "double life" that is, that he was Batman. When he met you and realized how important you were to him, he promised to protect you with his life. With so many villains and crimes on the loose, Bruce couldn't risk losing the only good thing he had ever had in that city of death, the only thing that gave meaning to everything. his life. You. And that's why lately he had been behaving strangely, he was still affectionate with you but you still noticed something strange and different about him.

You two had met in a park under the treetops, you were walking aimlessly admiring the vegetation, you were both arm in arm like an adorable old couple, from time to time you would rest your head on his shoulder since you were shorter than him.

"I missed these days like this". You sighed, squeezing his arm affectionately.

"Me too". He said looking at you and smiling slightly.

"You've been very busy lately, does your company demand so much of your time?"

"My company? Oh yeh, yeh, lately unemployment has umh risen its numbers…". He said, clearing his throat nervously.

You looked at him confused, was something wrong with his company? Had you said something bad? You never saw him so hesitant, he was almost always a person sure of his words. You didn't want to worry too much, he was always someone enigmatic and you loved him for that, you respected his silences and spaces. You two sat on a bench watching the people walk by, but you noticed that Bruce was serious and thoughtful, well, more than usual.

"All good?". You asked anxiously, taking his hand.

Wayne seemed to wake up with your touch, as if he had been in a trance. He looked at you surprised, meeting your worried look, he smiled, downplaying it.

"Of course, don't worry." He caressed the back of your hand with his thumb and brought your hand to his lips to kiss it tenderly.

That gesture brought the heat back to your cheeks and you smiled, sighing in relief, maybe he had just had an exhausting day, to tell the truth, your work also tired you sometimes. They continued sitting trying to bring up topics of conversation other than the insecurities of living in Gotham or the horrible crimes that were committed there. You told him about a new book you were starting to read and he listened attentively as if his life depended on it. He loved listening to you talk about things that were so mundane but that were clearly exciting to you.

"I'm just starting to read the first pages but it's already exciting! It's full of adventure and fantasy!! and the protagonist must face a mystery from his past and…"

The words came out of your mouth like an uncontrollable torrent, you gestured with your hands and your smile widened as your eyes lit up. Bruce admired your passion and charm for reading among other things, your cheeks heated by the speed at which you spoke seemed to him to be the cutest thing in the world.

"Maybe one day you can bring it so we can read it together."

Seeing how your eyes opened brighter than the sun and your cheeks turned even pinker was his most precious treasure, and it made him laugh softly. You, surprised, accompanied him with sweet giggles. When you decided that it was too cold to be outdoors, you two got up and you tenderly approached behind him and hugged him, squeezing his stomach a little to which he let out a grunt of pain. Startled, you quickly turned away, looking at him.

"What was that? Are you ok?"

His face was trying hard not to contort in pain but he had a deep frown on his face.

"It's nothing, I must have torn a muscle while exercising"

His voice seemed calm but he was holding his stomach with one hand, that alone was enough to dampen the good mood and nice moment the two of you had had. In silence they each returned to their homes.

On another occasion, Bruce disappeared for several days without showing any signs of life. You understood that he had his life and was independent, but it was worrying that you didn't hear from him for so long.

"Come on, come on answer"

You were in your apartment with the telephone in your hand and the other on your hip, moving your legs nervously. Bruce didn't even answer your calls, much less your messages. You were already thinking the worst and you didn't want to be panicked so you decided to do the only thing you could do, find out if he was in his mansion imprisoned like a mole.

You put on a hand-knit cardigan and headed out to Wayne Manor. You walked in a hurry so you arrived almost breathless at the great mansion. It was a miracle that no one had jumped you before. You knocked on the door three times and an elegantly dressed older man opened the door for you. Seeing you, a soft smile filled his lips.

"Miss Y/N, how lovely it is to see you here, tell me, can I help you with something?"

Alfred was always happy to see you hanging around Wayne Manor, many times you had even stayed over to sleep, it was a pleasure for him to serve both his master and you, you could say that you were almost like family. And if you made Bruce happy, the butler was pleased with that. But more urgent matters prevented you from noticing the warmth and kindness with which he greeted you.

"Actually, yes, there is something…Is Bruce home?"

A subtle shadow appeared on the butler's face but he quickly added

"Masterr B had to leave urgently due to work issues but I'm sure he'll be back soon"

"But I haven't seen him in days and he doesn't even answer his phone!"

You were starting to get nervous so Alfred put a warm hand on your shoulder.

"That's because he has had to move from one city to another to attend to important… matters. And you can guess that's also the reason why he hasn't used his phone, he doesn't want distractions."

"B-but..!"

"Please Miss Y/N, come in and have some tea, you can wait for him on the couch."

Almost forced, you entered the mansion with the butler's hand gently pushing you from behind to enter. Although it was not the first time you visited the building, you were always surprised by finding new details, whether it was a painting that had been moved or a new, clean carpet. The mansion exuded opulence and good taste and that always surprised you no matter how many times you had been there. You sat on the couch waiting for tea while you played with your fingers anxiously. You turned your head and looked out the window, scanning the landscape outside, hoping to see Bruce walk and return to his house. Alfred arrived with a tray on which rested a cup of tea and a sugar bowl with sugar cubes.

"I brought some chamomile tea, it's good for your nerves." He said with a knowing wink.

You thanked him with a nod, trying to smile. You cupped the cup with both hands, feeling its heat, which calmed you down a little, it was like being near a smoking fireplace, those memories made you aware. The cup was finely painted porcelain and decorated with small blue flowers and green leaves with their stems intertwining with each other. The steam from the infusion rose to your nose and warmed your cheeks.

"Are sugar cubes okay or would you prefer honey?"

"The clods are fine, thanks Alfred"

The tea seemed magical to you, it managed to calm your darkest fears and you could even say that you enjoyed your short stay in the mansion. But you still remembered why you had come there. You were about to finish your drink and put the cup on the table when a figure wearing a black coat appeared in the doorway like an apparition.

"Bruce!". You stifled a scream

Bruce was a mess, his battered face had a bruise on his eye and a cut on his forehead, his hair that had previously been combed back was now messy and fell forward a little. Hearing you distressed, Alfred arrived as soon as he could to see what was happening, of course he already imagined it, when he saw Master B standing there looking tired, his face contracted into a frown. Bruce took slow steps entering the mansion.

You covered your mouth with one hand, swallowing your tears, and ran to hug him but you did so with so much force that Bruce gave a pitiful moan, contracting his face and tensing his body slightly. Scared of hurting him more than he already was, you turned away from him.

"For the love of God, what the hell happened to you?!"

Bruce, without removing his grimace of pain, sat down heavily on the sofa near where you were. Alfred left them alone so that the two of you could talk in peace. If you needed anything, the butler knew that you could always call him.

"It's nothing Y/N, leave it at that.". Bruce said with a whimper

"Are you serious Bruce?! It's nothing?! You have a bruise and cuts on your face, what do you call that nothing?!"

The anguish of knowing that someone had hurt him made you scream in desperation, added to the fury you felt at the habit he had of minimizing everything so as not to worry you, well, it wasn't working this time.

"Please let me at least check you over."

"No, wait"

You ignored his complaints and grabbed his face softly and delicately, even so he gritted his teeth when he felt your fingers rubbing his bruise. You didn't understand what the hell he had done to end up like this, but you suspected that it wasn't because of his work issues. After checking his face you came to the conclusion that his bruise urgently needed ice and that the cut on his forehead was not that big but it needed to be cleaned or it could get infected.

"Well, I'll tell Alfred to bring the first aid kit, now will you tell me what happened to you?"

"Some thugs hit me in an alley when I was coming here…" He said avoiding eye contact.

You knew it was a lie because of how he avoided looking at you, but you didn't know how to get him to tell you the truth. You frowned and touched his arm when you felt something wet, you noticed that a part of the sleeve of his coat was slightly darker. You ordered him to take it off and when you saw his arm you gasped. He had a cut deeper than the one on his forehead and it was bleeding. You urgently called the butler who arrived quickly with the first aid kit.

"Fuck! Will you also tell me that that cut was the fault of a thug?"

"I must have cut my arm on a loose nail or glass… I don't remember"

"Sure.."

You sighed frustratedly trying to control your temper, you hated when he lied, especially in such a stupid way. A cut like that couldn't have been from a simple nail, it seemed more like it was made by a knife, you shuddered when you thought about it. You opened the first aid kit and took out everything you needed: gauze, disinfectant, cotton, etc. You took his chin with your thumb and turned his face to get a good look at the wounds. You weren't a nurse but you knew how to heal certain wounds. You wiped a cotton ball with disinfectant and Bruce tensed his jaw and closed his eyes, frowning.

"I'm trying to be delicate."

"I know". He sighed and one corner of his mouth turned up.

Luckily Alfred also brought ice so when you finished the cut on his forehead you gave him ice wrapped in a towel to put on his eye. But the worst part remained, the cut on his arm that was beginning to stain his clothes. You rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and grabbed a clean cloth soaked in clean water. When you ran it over his cut to clean the blood, he quickly removed it, complaining.

"Ouch". He growled loudly.

"Sorry, this hurts me more than it hurts you". You said sadly

"Oh really?" He said, mocking slightly with irony.

But when he saw your distressed face, he stopped smiling and extended his arm to you so you could heal him. You tried in every way to do it gently but Bruce would squirm slightly or moan and make the job more difficult. When you cleaned the wound the cloth had turned red. You put some disinfectant and bandaged the wound. Bruce, despite being hurt and bruised, looked at you with tenderness, how you took the time to heal a poor boy like him. You were so worried and focused on your task that you didn't realize he was staring at you until you raised your head, a warm smile spread across his face and it infected you, but you were still angry and that's how you let him know.

"Bruce I need to know the truth, who did this to you?"

He opened his mouth but you interrupted him again.

"And don't start with that they were thugs because you and I know that's not true.". You warned him

He looked into your eyes, getting lost in your long-lashed gaze while he thought about what he was going to say. You looked at him worriedly, waiting for an answer, a real one this time. He sighed and lowered his head and spoke in a low voice.

"Y/N I can't really tell you what I did today because it would put you in danger and I don't want that. When I met you I swore to myself that nothing bad would happen to you and that I would protect you no matter what, well if I tell you the truth that I could break my promise and I don't want to see you hurt."

You looked at him stunned by his words, now with more reason you wanted to know what was happening but you didn't want to risk someone hurting you…or killing you. Suddenly you couldn't help but think of terrible things that Bruce could be involved in, as if he read your thoughts, he said.

"I'm not involved in any shady business if that's what you want to know. What I do is something more complex than a mafia, but it's not bad at all, I assure you."

Bruce saw that this was confusing you even more and he could even glimpse a hint of fear that he wasn't sure if it was because of him or because of what he was doing. He quickly took your hand and caressed it.

"I understand that this is all confusing but you must trust me please. I assure you that I would not do anything to hurt you, in fact it is just the opposite."

Bruce gave you pleading looks and he sounded so hopeless that his silences spoke for themselves, he begged you to believe him. You pursed your lips thoughtfully and then placed a hand on his uninjured cheek and caressed it carefully.

"Bruce… I trust you, and I really want to believe you… but, it hurts me to see you hurt like this."

You sighed and he nodded, closing his eyes, feeling the warmth of your hand bring him back to life.

"It's okay, I know you know how to defend yourself. But I ask you for the love of God that whatever you're doing, don't get too involved. I don't want to find out one day through the mouths of others that you're in a hospital or…-"

Your words got stuck in your throat, stifling a sob and he hugged you. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and breathed in his perfume, that seemed to calm you down. It was ironic how Bruce being so hurt could still comfort you even though it should be the other way around. You slowly broke away from the hug.

"By the way, thank you for healing me and being so nice to me."

You smiled maternally

"Of course I had to take care of you and it was a pleasure."

Alfred, who was actually in the kitchen listening to everything like a gossip, approached with stealthy steps and proclaimed

"Oh no, I think I should watch my back or Miss Y/n will take my job.". He said mockingly playfully

The three of them laughed in relief, feeling the tension dissipate. If your life depended on it, you would take care of young Wayne every day of your life without once complaining. Bruce smiled at you even though the bruise still hurt and his face contracted a little into a grimace, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and he invited you to stay the night if you liked, you nodded delightedly, maybe that way you could keep an eye on him even closer.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A marriage of inconvenience

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, marital discord/neglect, cheating, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a rare chance at respite from your icy marriage, but can you handle the heat? (Regency AU)

Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne

Note: You can imagine any Bruce you want. I hate Affleck so I went for Christian Bale in my head but to each their own. I pictured Cavill because uhhhh yes, but hey if you wanna go with Brandon Routh that’s chill af, or Tom Welling.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Humpty Dumpty love falling off walls. Take care. 💖

When you wed Lord Wayne, your mother warned you it would not be a happy marriage but an adequate one. No woman of worth marries a man she loves, but one who offers a title and wealth. Wayne has both in heaps but you could not balance it with his coldness. The price of his indifference could not be recompensed.

Two years and you cannot bear the frozen silences, averted eyes, and withdrawn touches. To him, as for you, it's duty, not that you don't want it to be more. Even when he shares your bed, it is business to him, another transaction. Those times he's come to tend his obligations are as many as you can count on your fingers. He leaves you vacant and void.

There is little to comfort you. He is not a social creature, though it is rumored that once he was. The maids whisper of a former love with which all warmth died. A place you cannot fill, expectation you can never meet.

Even as the season stirs society, he is not bothered to attend more than his office, or host other men in discussions of commerce within the privacy of his study. 

You are not permitted to attend tea as you have no escort and he would not think to entertain the folly of the court. No theatre, no promenade, no waltzes, no companions. Just you and the empty halls and this empty lord.

You spend your days in the meadow of his country home or on the balcony of his city estate. You read, you embroidered, you even think to help the servants in their daily toil. You sometimes think you may have been happier as one of them.

That day, you see him in the courtyard. A carriage is permitted past the gates. You hear there is a fall festival to be hosted by the royal couple, you dream of it as his figure moves at the peripheral of your fantasies. Your eyes focus as the blue vehicle approaches down the stones and the groom halts the horses, hopping down to open the door.

It is Lord Kent. You know his crest, you know the slant of his jaw. You see him now and again though he often leaves your husband irritated. Yet he is too prominent to turn away, too esteemed to offend.

Your husband peers up and sees you in the window, his squint assuring you of his notice. You give a guilty smile and back away.

You descend to the main foyer as the men enter. Your husband scowls behind his visitor as Lord Kent gives a gasp at your appearance. You wear a plain gown of cotton decorated with beaded roses. It is hardly fit for a ball.

"The Lady Wayne," Kent greets in his boisterous way as you come to greet him. He takes your gloved hand and kisses the single ring, your wedding band. "How pleasant it is to see you. Your husband does insist on hiding you away."

"Wife," Wayne intones as he plays with the knot at his throat, "we have a guest, should you not have tea laid out for him already?"

Surprised, you wince. Usually, he is keen to retreat to his study with his fellow lords, speaking swiftly and dismissing them just as curtly. You bow your head and fold your hands permissively.

"Apologies, husband, I was not thinking, let me have Emma bring a tray."

"We will be in the sunroom," Wayne cuts off your last word.

"Yes, husband," you smile stiffly and your eyes meet Kent's again as he gives a lingering look. "My lords."

You find Emma in the kitchen and have her put on a kettle as you help put together a plate of pastries. The younger maid, Ester, puts out the tea pot with cups and saucer neatly beside the dish of desserts. You're anxious as they steep the tea, your husband's remonstrance still nipping at your neck. Is there ever anything you do that doesn't displease him? The best you can hope for is indifference.

Ester follows you out with the tray and you enter the sunroom as the men chatter. You present your offerings and Kent smiles as he sits forward. Your husband makes no move to indulge as his guest takes a cherry tart and bites into it. 

"You have a marvelous cook," he says as he swallows and you hover, Ester dismissed by a flick of Wayne's fingers.

"I made the cherry myself, Emma however prepared the rest."

"You bake? A duchess in a kitchen? How quaint."

"Mmm," Wayne drones, "I do recommend she spends more time in the library."

"She spends enough time sitting around on your whim," Kent counters, "my lady," he stands, "please sit with us."

"Kent," Wayne warns.

"I was unaware you ran a convent," he japes, "I hardly know your wife, you would think she's a ghost."

Wayne looks away as you sit on the unclaimed settee. Kent realises his mistake as he summons the memory of your husband's former amour; his true love.

"Perhaps, if you should permit it, my lord," Kent begins carefully, "I might have Lady Kent visit with your wife once she has recovered from her labour. Thus, they can entertain each other."

"If it is what you desire."

Your husband's dull response is as good as a no. You look down at your lap sullenly. Not even permitted a lady friend in your solace. You do not understand why he punishes you when all you've even tried to do, all you've ever wanted is to please him.

"She might share some words of wisdom with her. On the matter of wifery and motherhood. Any day now I'm certain you should be expecting a little heir to fill these dour halls with laughter."

"God will it," Wayne declares, no mention of his neglect which would as good as spoil any divine will.

"There is a festival, for the final harvest," Kent easily diverts.

"As there is one every other week," your husband rebuffs.

"You cannot act a hermit forever. It is noted, no one wants to deal with a malcontent, whether in office or otherwise."

"I am not one for those events."

"You once were," Kent remarks.

"Unlike you, I've matured."

"And what of you, lady? Do you fancy the festival? Perhaps a twirl when the band breaks out?"

Wayne sighs but says nothing.

"It sounds... intriguing but I will at home tending to my work here."

"One night, of five, does that seem very much, my lord? Your wife is young, let her enjoy something more than these walls."

"My wife. Be certain to recall that."

"You too."

Their eyes meet in a startling confrontation. Silent and stolid. You bat your lashes.

"Lord Kent, it is kind of you to suggest it but I--"

"If she can find a proper escort, she may go. Without me."

Your breath hitches. It might not be perfect, but it is more than you can hope for. Backhanded at best but something. That is, if you could ever find an escort. Wayne will not permit his groom to accompany you.

"She has a proper escort. Me." Kent announces.

Wayne scoffs as your mouth falls open.

"I am a married man, she is a married woman. There is nothing untowards so I might accompany her in your place, dear husband."

"May I?" you breathe as you glance at your husband. He's grim, pale.

"If you must," he throws a hand up.

You wince and try not to wilt. You want so badly to go. Anywhere.

"Do not be so cruel to her," Kent admonishes, "you have every ability to take her yourself."

"She has no place at parties with those gossiping geese. Wasted time spent on costuming and comedy."

"Better spent rotting away in misery."

"Enough. Before I rescind my decision. Wife, you may go so we can discuss the matter he came for."

"Yes, husband," you say perilously, afraid to spoil your one chance at liberty.

"Thank you, my lady. Might I ask if it's possible to have some of these packed up to take with me? Without Lois around, I fear my staff is aimless."

"Yes, my lord, I will have Ester do so. Good day."

"Good day. I will see you again. For the festival."

"Thank you," you smile.

"Go," Wayne insists.

You obey. A good wife to a mean husband.

💔

The day of the festival comes and your husband does not appear. He slept in his study, as is common, and did not sit to break his fast. You sense the tension but cannot discern it from that which endlessly plagues your home.

Ester helps you ready, a dress of lilac with a matching ribbon on your cap. You almost send a message to Lord Kent to go alone as you see your reflection. Your gown must be out of style, the jacket too. How can you face society knowing they will all whisper of the elusive Lady Wayne.

No, you must go. If you do not, you fear for your sanity. 

Ester and Emma bid you farewell as the carriage approaches. A groom, Marshall, guides you down the steps. You don't dare mention your husband nor do they.

"My lady," Lord Kent hops down without assistance to greet you, "and where is your husband to wistfully see you off?"

You try not to frown, your lips quiver but you force a full smile.

"He is at his business," you reply, "thank you, my lord, for this favour."

"Favour? It is a good deed you do for me, you see? For I have been lonesome since my wife has gone into her reprieve for her labour and her recovery does keep her in the country."

"I am most excited for the festival."

"As am I, I'm so happy you could come, yet your husband does continue to hide away."

You hide your face behind the brim of your cap, "shall we go? I don't want to miss anything."

"And I should hate to keep you from it," he offers his hand, "allow me, we do not want you to soil your skirts."

He guides you to the step his driver sets before the door and you climb into the vehicle with your head low. The benches are cushioned, the curtains drawn up to look out, and the smell of sandalwood that clings to him feels the small space.

He follows and sits across from you. The door shuts and you wait and listen to the driver prepare for the journey into the city.

"I assume the lord was in a gray mood," he prompts.

You trace the seam of your glove, "I did not see him this morning. He is ever occupied."

"With a wife like you, how is that?"

Your cheeks warm and you look out the window, "my lord."

"Flattery I admit but no less true."

"You must miss your wife," you redirect, a trick your husband uses very much.

"I do," he touches his chest and your throat tightens. How does Wayne speak of you? Is he ever anything but unimpressed?

"Your husband is equally as fortunate, if only he could see."

"He is a good man," you say reflexively. You're not sure you believe it yourself.

"Every man has his flaws, good or bad as he is."

"Please, sir," you squirm, "it is only he is not an outward man, but he is my husband and he keeps me in comfort."

"Some comfort," he comments.

"Do you think they will have acrobats? When I was a child, we went to a festival with them and I always thought them rather amusing."

"They should," he pushes his broad shoulders back, he is a large man, he could be a strongman at one of the fairs held for peasants.

"Wonderful," your eyes skirt through the window once more, "I always though the land so beautiful."

"Very beautiful," he agrees, but he's not looking at the hills.

💔

Long silk streamers wrapped around and waving from tall poles greet your arrival. The promenade is vibrant with satins, brocades, and muslins as society mills between booths of jewelry and other ornaments, archers, riders doing tricks on horsebacks, and minstrels singing tales of faraway lands.

You step down from the carriage and Lord Kent takes you on his arm. A familiar face smiles from across the archway decorated in welcome of the attendees. Lady Mariette smiles and gives a small wave, her husband trying to draw her attention to a pipe for sale. You return the gesture as your ushered onward.

You feel a stranger, surprised any would recognise the debutante now locked away. You don't know that it would be any worse if they didn't.

You stop to admire a comb, your purse light enough that you talk yourself out of the purchase. Your husband is as tight-fisted as he is close-lipped. You give a smile and leave it, ready to walk away until Kent draws you back.

"How much?" he holds the mother-of-pearl comb as he talks to the vendor.

The price is as steep as you predicted but he sees no issue. He pays as you blush and clutch your cheeks beneath your gloves. He offers the gifts as you roll your eyes against the tears. You shouldn't be so overwhelmed by the simple present.

"My lord, you truly do not need to. Please, keep it for your wife."

"It is yours," he takes your hand and presses the comb into it, "call me Clark for the day, lady."

You look down at the comb and turn it over, "thank you, Clark."

"My pleasure," he nudges your elbow and continues on, "look!"

He waves ahead to the bodies jumping and spinning from platforms, landing on their feet only to bend over backwards and touch the ground, legs cartwheeling, arms contorting. You can't help the bounce in your gait as you hurry over to watch.

"Oh my!" you gasp at a particularly perilous flip and giggle.

Clark peeks at you as his movement draws your eyes. His gaze glimmers as his lips curve.

"Why do you smirk so, my--Clark?"

"Because, you wear a true smile for once."

💔

As the evening dims around you, the festival blazes on beneath glass orbs lit with flames and torches licking from the poles above. The tents beckon you into wonders of the mysterious and miraculous. A sliver of the holy cross, maps of a land you'll never see, seers and their cards.

You weave in and out until you come across the players before a backdrop of painted canvas, acting out a Shakespearian comedy in horsehair wigs and loose bodices. The crowd gives a ribald guffaw as they stand sit to watch. You lose yourself in the scene, the humour tickling you after so long in sober solace.

"There," Clark whispers and directs you to a bench newly vacated.

You sit with him, his leg against yours, the shadows dark around you as the lights float over the stage and leave the audience shrouded. His shoulder is flush behind your arm as you keep your chin up to watch the figures, voices carrying above the hue from the tents.

You grip the edge of the bench and giggle. His hand lightly brushes your skirts and rests on your leg. You don't think much of it, perhaps he thinks you might fall in your trance. 

You keep your attention on the low stage as his fingers move further, startling you as they push into the vee between your legs. You catch his wrist and gasp. He hushes in your ear as he wiggles you away.

"My lord," you hiss.

"Lady, it would be untoward to be caught in such a position," he drawls lowly, "with a man not your husband."

You gulp in shock as he forces his entire hand between your legs, curling his fingers as he rubs your through the layer gruffly. You blink as your vision blurs. You think of Bruce and his harsh night time visits. They always leave you tender.

"You have a wife," you whimper and bite your lip.

"She is away and I grow lonely," he purrs.

He turns and cups his hand over your mouth, his scent permeating your nostrils as he holds you to him and rocks his hand. The pressure of his touch, the clustered fabric, builds and a peculiar sensation tingles along your folds.

You exhale sharply over his knuckles and latch onto his wrist, eyes widening as his hand shakes your entire body. You glance around without turning your head, the crowd roars as the actors continue their show. 

Your heart pounds, a throbbing that scares you more than the grasp of the man inspiring it. You squeak, the noise muffled as your thighs tense and burn. You sink your nails into his sleeve as a swell of the unknown pulsing overcomes you and shatters your resolve. You spasm and shudder until it dissipates, relenting with the slowing of his hand.

It should feel wrong, but it doesn't.

💔

Your day out ends in confusion. The stimulation of the festival has you off-kilter as the phantom of Clark’s unwarranted touch haunts you. He shouldn’t have done that, yet he is completely unaffected, almost reassured by the act as he takes you by the arm and ushers you through the crowd.

Old faces and new, stop to greet you; barons, earls, even the king and queen, though you’d never met them, never anything more than the formal welcome upon your debut in society. Clark knows them well it seems. There is much you do not know nor expect of him.

You are almost relieved as you see the carriage along the row awaiting the departing lords and ladies. You wait at his side, quiet as you can’t stop fidgeting. Perhaps it is you. Perhaps that odd feeling was your doing; perhaps it is you that was untoward.

The lord Kent once more assists you in ahead of him but this time as the door closes, you feel trapped. It isn’t even your pending return to your husband’s wardenship, it’s that tight hot space with this man, the only man who’s ever made you feel sinful.

He lights the lantern hung from the carriage wall and sits back. The small glow of light gives sinister shadows to his angular jaw and long nose, his lips seem to slant in unspoken mischief. Or it is all your imagination?

You watch the moon, a sliver in the sky among the distant twinkling stars. The night seems impenetrably dark. You yawn behind your gloves before letting your hand fall to wring the trim of your jacket.

The carriage turns and you think it’s the wrong way. You’ve never been good with direction and the streets are obscured with the late hour. You swallow as you peek over at Clark. He is hidden in the shadows but he looks your way.

“Lady, you must be eager to return to your husband.”

“Yes, very much, I shall give him the snuff box I picked out for him so that he does not feel excluded.”

“Your husband? Ha. He is ever affronted.”

“But he is my husband,” you insist, “it is my duty to take care of him.”

“And does he take care of you?”

“We have a grand estate–”

“I do not mean houses or dresses or coin,” he interjects, “I mean does he hold you? Kiss you? Take you in his arms and express his love for you?”

You exhale and turn back to the window, “it is improper to speak of those things.”

“And it is poisonous to hold in such grief.”

“Please, my lord, I fear I’ve made a great mistake accompanying you this night. I should return to my husband and remain within his bounds.”

“You did not enjoy it?”

“The festival? Very much–”

“You know of what I speak.”

Silence. Shameful, confession without words.

“Did it not delight you?”

“My lord, please, we are married.”

“And lonely.”

“Yes, but it is wrong regardless.”

He tilts his chin up and takes a deep breath. He raises his fist and hits the roof of the carriage. It grinds to a stop. You peer out but see nothing by a dark expanse of tall grass.

“Where are we?”

The driver climbs down and lights his pipe, listless, he wanders away. The horses knicker as you slide forward and reach for the door.

“Where is he going–”

Clark stops you, urging you back to the bench, your back to the wall. You go rigid as he kneels before you, his hands on your arms as he gazes up at you.

“No–” You push his hands away, “take me home.”

“To a man who refuses to love you?”

“Lady Kent–”

“Needn’t know. Lady, I only long to give you what you deserve. I see your sadness and it does pierce my heart. A woman so beautiful–”

“I can’t–”

“And loyal without cause–”

“Please–”

“And virtuous to a fault.”

You sniff as your eyes gloss over. How easily he sees your weakness, your desperation. And how you cannot deny it.

“When I touched you, did it not feel good?”

“It shouldn’t–”

“But it did.”

You clamp your lips shut and look away. You nod.

His hands fall to your skirts, he tugs at them as he shifts his knees off the hem. You try to shove the fabric back down as he lifts it but he is insistent and unyielding. Your stockings are revealed, the bright pink you never wore for you never had any occasion, and the air brushes over your naked thighs. You squeak.

“Please–”

“Tell me, has he ever even shown you affection?”

“I cannot speak of him any longer,” you heave.

His hands crawl over your knees and play with the top of your stockings. You close your eyes and shrink against the wall, fingers curled into the cushion beneath you. You should stop him, shouldn’t you? 

He kneads your thighs, fingers pressing into your tender flesh, sending a thrill through you. You let out a moan, clapping your hand over your mouth as he pulls your skirts over his head. You whimper in entranced horror.

His lips tickle your cunt and bite the side of your hand. His tongue elicits a cold ripple in your core and has you writhing. He nuzzles you deeper, delving into you without shame. 

You pant as heat pools inside of you, meeting the coolness of his lapping. You could never fathom a man putting his mouth there.

You groan and quiver. You slap your hand down on the seat as your heels hit the bench. Your hips roll into him, begging for more as you can’t articulate the same plea aloud. You unravel completely as the tension releases and you kick out as a violent tide sweeps you up, a shrill whine filling the carriage.

He drags his tongue along the crease of your leg and nips you softly. You cry out again and he pulls his head from beneath your skirts, curls askew as he licks his lips. He grabs your hips and slides you off the seat, drawing you down atop as your crushed between him and the bench.

You bend your arms on top of the bench as his hand dives into the bundle of fabric and he lifts himself on his knees. He plucks open his trousers as he growls and quickly pulls you against him, an arm snaking around you to rest on the seat. His other hand guides his tip along your folds as he pokes searchingly.

He lowers you onto him, sinking until he shudders. Your head hangs back as you walls cling to him. Never have you felt so full, overflowing. You reach blindly to his jacket, grasping the sleeve as he tilts you in his lap, burying his face in your neck as he grunts.

“So precious,” he hums against your skin.

You murmur senselessly as your head lolls and he gropes your chest through your bodice. Your breath mingles as he works your body against his, your hips following his rhythm as the world drops away. It’s just that moment, the furor, the fire, unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

His thumb flicks over your bud and you squeal. A few swirls and you’re quaking again, cumming as you hug him to you, fingers twining into his dark hair.

He pushes you back, the seat digging into your shoulders as he grips the edge and pounds into you. So hard and unrestrained your legs bounce around him, folded over his waist as he ruts wildly. Your fingers hook between the buttons of his jacket as you grit your teeth and whine, flesh clapping as fabric chafes between you.

“I–” he hisses into a grunt and slams against you.

He pins you against the bench as he rides out his climax, hard and rough, your hips aching from the force of his desire. He slows, strangled groans escaping him as finally he lets your rest against the bench, legs splayed over his.

He sighs and slips out of you. His seed leaks out onto the floor as he backs up and your skirts droop around your thighs. You sit dumbfounded as you shake. He fixes his trousers and his jacket, smoothing his hair.

“Get up,” he says curtly, “your husband awaits.”

[way-of-love]

The Heat of Adam (Teth-Adam x FemReader) (SPOILERS) (R-RATED)

Alright guys, this is my first post here and probably the longest one yet but please bare with me on this one!

This is just a little one-shot (maybe two chapters) I wanted to bring froth when I watched the movie like TWICE. I know Ghost from CoD is way more important and I will be posting one up of him soon; I just thought my man Adam needed some lovin' too!

-Currently you are the sister-in-law to Isis, the woman who found the tomb of Teth-Adam. You are the sister of the deceased husband of Isis and the only living aunt of Among, Isis and your brothers son. You felt for Adam during your time with him knowing all along that he was filled with more good than bad. During your journey with him and your family, you finally knew you cared for him more than you should...-

PART 2

NO MINORS (18+)

In ancient Kahndaq, Teth-Adam was bestowed the almighty powers of the gods. After using these powers for vengeance, he was imprisoned, becoming the Black Adam we know today. Though after his battle with the monster of legend Sabbac, he now chooses to be not the champion that Khandaq wanted but he became the protector that Khandaq needed. After he destroyed the throne that sat the enslaver king, he has been different. Even after a few hours of defeating his greatest foe you remained by his side even after your sister-in-law, Isis, tried to convince you that their new hero has a lot of things to catch up on. Meaning, they wanted to give him a break to evaluate the new world around him, to get used to it without being barraged with cries for help every second. You tried to convince Isis that the danger is just beginning and now that one crisis was averted there would be handfuls more until your national hero disappears again.  

The streets were still a mess after the Justice Society and Black Adam defeated Sabbac; and the people of Khandaq rising to defeat the undead army from hell which you would say seemed to be the highlight of your evening. Carefully stepping foot over the broken rubble, you made it to the steps of one of your country's nationally treasured (not really) castle. You were just here a few hours ago after Adams' victory, you went home only to clean up the apartment a bit and to finally shower after a long two days running around trying to save the world and save your nephew Among. So, to say you were grimy and gross was an understatement.  

Though while in the cockpit of Hawkmans aircraft you made a comment about how awful you must have smelt before they put Teth-Adam to sleep. You were not with your sister-in-law watching over your nephews' recovery because you knew Among would have wanted to know what Teth- Adams final words were before he was placed in prison yet again. But only he did not have any final words for Among, for you nor for anyone else.  

While in the aircraft he would occasionally look at you while the two men from the Justice Society spoke amongst themselves, not that you wanted to hear whatever those two were saying, you made the comment and Teth-Adam looked at you with hat you could barely describe as a ghost of a smile and soften dark eyes. 

“You do not smell awful. You smell like strength, that is something that is honorable. Even to one as dishonorable as me.” 

After that he rested back and closed his eyes. Whatever those people were giving him knocked him out right after. And the compliment or whatever you would call it stuck to you the whole ride back to Khandaq. You could not even respond back to him because you were in shock. At the very least you could have told him what he was doing was as honorable as anything, but you knew that nothing good would have come to this decision. You could have stopped this, freed him, and helped him escape but... now that you think about it, this was the best way. 

Looking up at the once proud bacon of Khandq, you knew that it was better off with Black Adam ruling over it now. Despite the challenges and difficulties each person in Khandaq faced, they knew Black Adam was their beloved champion and protector. Though he says he is not the people say otherwise. 

Before you took even a step up the corroded stone steps you noticed a cloud of smoke and a dark figure in the midst's of it descending into the broken ceiling. You already knew what, no, who it was. There was only two other people you could think of who had long ass capes and it certainly was not Batman. Without further hesitation you made quick work of the stairs taking two at a time, you hoped that Superman did nothing to provoke Adam. And with your connections to the League and to a specific warden, you knew he was not here to invite Adam to a tea party.  

Finally reaching the entrance you go right through but stop halfway hearing the muffled voices of the two men. As a spy for the Khandaq rebels you had a good ear, but you knew those two super humans did as well, so you managed to tiptoe your way towards a pillar unseen and hopefully unheard. Pressing your body against the rough, rocky pillar you listened into the conversation.  

“...talk,” 

That was all you heard before the two suddenly blasted off through the giant hole in the ceiling. The wind of their shared flight forces you to squeeze your eyes shut and press further against the pillar in hopes no sand nor the loose debris came flying at you. Of course, those two must’ve heard you coming. They both had super hearing and you weren’t as quiet as a mouse; maybe they could hear them too. 

Slowly, you peeked around the pillar, the smoke cleared out thanks to sudden burst of air. Now that the coast was clear you moved up but cautiously taking one step at a time, before then you stood right underneath the giant broken ceiling and the two you were spying on floated up in the night sky. They looked like ants from here on the ground. And that confirmed your suspicion that they indeed knew you were there.  

Now you must wait. Because you weren’t leaving until you spoke to Adam. 

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

(TIME SKIP)

So, their conversation took quite a while. It was past 3AM now and they were still talking. How long has it been? Three no, maybe four hours? Honestly, whatever the topic of conversation was did not interest you any longer. Now you just wanted to go home and sleep the past day's events off. You say at the top step by the stone throne Black Adam destroyed just a few hours prior; with your head being cradled by your fits and elbows resting on your knees. Everything felt like a dream, waking up Teth-Adam and releasing him from prison with your sister-in-law, your family running for their lives, your nephew getting kidnapped and almost dies, and even now thinking about how Adam defeated Sabbac felt like a dream as you sat here in a dream like state ready to call it a night. 

Before mustering up the strength to stand and finally go home, Black Adam finally decided to grace you with his presence. 

You looked up when he descended and floated in front of you looking as menacing as ever. Lazily you looked up at him with a mix of emotions. First, you were annoyed and wanted nothing more than to ignore him. But then you saw how soft he was looking at you. Is soft even a good word to describe how he gazed down at you? Maybe not but his dark gaze wasn’t piercing. Releasing a sigh, you straighten your back and tilt your head back some more. 

“Took you long enough. I thought I’d have to drag my body back home,” You muttered softly while beginning to stand. Looking up at him at such a low level really hurt your neck and right now you were in no mood to feel any kind of ache. 

“I... apologize. I didn’t expect company so late. What did you need?” He finally lowered himself, feet touching the ground and stood at his full height. It didn’t help any less because you still had to crane your neck to look up at him.  

Rubbing your eye tiredly you tried to bring up the topic you were trying so hard to talk to him about but now that you were this tired and he was now here standing before you- you had absolutely nothing on your mind but sleep. 

“I... I’m sorry. I came here on a mission, and it seems that I’m just too tired to remember what I wanted to say. That’s what I get for being impatient,” You gave him a tired smile which he returned with a small smile of his own.  

Black Adam raised his hand between the two of you, palm up while taking a small step closer to you. Now his large hand was but a hair away from your chest. If you weren’t so damn tired, you’d be blushing right about now. 

“The least I could do for keeping you waiting is to take you home. Then I’ll know you're home safe and sound,” He now was leaning closer to you as you stared down at his open hand. Was he...going to fly you home? You must’ve had the dumbest look on your face while staring at his hand because he snickered softly. “Yes, I’ll be flying you home,” 

Your eyes widened and your head lifted quickly meeting his gaze; your breath caught in your throat. The two of you were so close. His face was only a few inches away from your own that if you wanted to you could count the hairs on his brows one by one. Wait. His brows?! Cmon... Is that all you could have thought about at that moment? You averted your gaze elsewhere and almost hesitantly slid your much more delicate one into his calloused one. His long thick fingers around the back of your hand gently, almost embracing your hand. You’d be lying if you said this didn’t wake you up a little bit. You’ve flown before! Just not without an aircraft, how bad could it be? 

“Be gentle?” The words left you before your lips could catch them. Why did he have to be gentle? The man is just flying! Flustered you shake your head clearing it of anymore stupidity. With a smile he made sure to wrap his thick muscular arm around your waist and pulled you flushed against his chest. Now that defiantly was sudden. Being so close to his now, holding his hand while the other braced against his broad chest.  

You were mesmerized by how big he was in this form. He’s a tank! A certain tank you wouldn’t mind flying on. While your fingers grazed the symbolic lightning bolt on the front of his dark suit, he took initiative and secured you tightly to his chest before beginning to float up.So, he could be gentle? Soon you felt the warm wind of Khandaq through your dark locks forcing you tear your attention away from the massive bolt on his chest to his face. 

And seeing him in his full redemptional glory under the beautiful night Khandaq sky and the moon high up was memorable. It was a core memory for you now because his gaze was one of admiration, maybe you were too tired and were practically dreaming at this point, but you really didn’t care. He kept his eyes soft, and you were lost in those dark pools. Being here like this with the man who was well over the age gap you preferred, sat well with you. He released your hand and used it to cup your cheek tenderly in his palm, and now that your other hand was free you placed his collar tracing the end of the suit where the material met his collar bone. 

“You’re making it so hard to go home Black Adam,” The smile in your voice was evident even while looking down at his black suit tracing the patterns or markings the decorated the collar. Many would say this was how Louis and Superman felt when they spent time together for the first time, but what about you and Black Adam? If this, whatever was between them, was a thing like Louis and Superman...would it be enough for Adam to change his mind about staying with you and your family? He had no place to go other than here, this...broken down castle that still held his enemies' remains within every grain of rock and sand. He needed more than people to protect, he needed someone to protect him. 

“Maybe I’m stalling? I think that’s how you say it,” His thumb brushed against your warm cheek making your eyes close to take pleasure in the small skin on skin contact you both shared. 

“Why are you stalling? Want to keep me?” You managed to mumble your response while nuzzling your cheek into his palm with closed eyes. He was silent for a moment which made you open your eyes; did he want to keep you? While waiting for an answer you somehow felt that what he was trying to say was serious, so you tried to look more awake.  

Looking back into his eyes you knew he wasn’t one to shy away nor be too embarrassed to confess whatever he was holding back. “What is it?” You pressed. 

Taking in a short breath, he spoke,” I want you to stay here, spend the rest of the evening with me,” 

Your brows furrowed at his words. Were you confused about the time, or was he? “Hold on. You want me to spend the rest of the morning, you mean, with you? It’s already three in the morning,” Despite how your stomach erupted in butterflies you still gave him a soft laugh and a nod in response. 

“I suppose I can spare a few more hours for you big guy,” At that he smiled, even chuckled as he secured you more against his chest and began to descend back down into the fortress. Now that the two of you were hidden away from the prying eyes of the stars and whomever decided to look up, you found yourself feeling shy again. Like, this was your first time being in the center of a man's attention; you’ve been with men before and did things with said men, but this time felt different. Looking into his eyes at such proximity with nowhere else to look gave you a sense that he felt the same, like you, in this moment were the center of his world. Now you truly knew how you felt about this man. 

---

TA-DA! Hope that wasn't too bad, I still have more to write just need to finish that up before we get to the spicey stuff!

Love you all!

[abominable-space-they]

The Alchemical Weight of the Sun Patrol

DCU Doom Patrol Finale Fix it

oneshot

Larry/Rama

Found family

Everybody lives

[vanillael]

ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏɴ

Bruce plans a date with Y/N but ends up not going.

Y/N was in her bedroom picking out an outfit for her date night with Bruce. It’s been a few weeks since she last saw him, so she tried to look her best. It was almost like getting ready for their first date again, except they’re already 1 year into the relationship. 

She wanted to impress him, but also subtly show him everything he’s missed. She wore her best fitted dress, curled the ends of her hair and wore bold makeup. 

Y/N and Bruce’s relationship was complicated. Of course it was complicated, she’s literally dating Batman! They can go weeks or even months without seeing each other. 

It’s actually not Y/N fault, she tries her best to keep the relationship going. She wants to make sure it never gets awkward the few times they actually meet. 

Bruce however sometimes forgets he’s in a relationship. He’ll get reminded every once in a while when Y/N sends him a scandalous picture. 

Y/N knew getting into a relationship with Batman would mean little spare time just for them to hang, but she wasn't expecting it to be so little.

She looks at the mirror and giggles. Who wouldn’t be happy to see their boyfriend after a long time?

She picks up her phone and sends Bruce a message. 

“I’m leaving the house now, can’t wait to see you ❤” 

She nervously bites her lip before taking one quick glimpse at the mirror and walks towards the door. 

AT THE RESTAURANT 

Because Y/N and Bruce had a reserved table at the restaurant, Y/N was allowed in to wait inside. She ordered a glass of water and slowly sipped on it patiently waiting for Bruce. 

The time was already 9 PM and Bruce was supposed to be there, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Y/N didn’t want to seem annoying so she assumed he was running a bit late.  

The time was now nearing 10 PM. She was more worried than upset so she wrote to Bruce in hopes he’ll answer. 

“Hey, I’m already inside. Where are you?” 

She knew she wouldn’t get an immediate answer but her eyes were still glued to the phone waiting for Bruce's status to go from ‘offline’ to ‘online’. The status never changed and he never answered. 

10.35 PM

Y/N legs were furiously and uncontrollably bouncing up and down under the table. She was having a lot of anxiety. She was scared that Bruce was locked up somewhere getting tortured. 

She tried to ignore those types of thoughts but it was still something that bothered her. Messages such as; “Where are you?”, “Honey, answer please”, “Should I come over?” were being sent to him. 

The distressed woman tucks some hair behind her ear as she looks at the empty seat in front of her. 

11 PM

At this point Y/N had given up on sending messages. She had lost her appetite and ended up playing mobile games to spend time. She was so into her game she didn’t notice the well dressed man in front of her. 

She finally noticed a presence in front of her. As she was looking downwards she saw black dress shoes making her happily look up

“I knew you’d come-,” she said excitedly. Her excitement quickly cut when she saw the face. It wasn’t her man. 

“Ma’am, we are forced to ask you to leave as a young couple rented the entire  restaurant for themselves. They should arrive in a few minutes so you unfortunately have to leave.” 

Y/N looked down at her phone to check if she’d gotten a message. None. 

She weakly smiled at the man before getting her purse and walking towards the door. When she got into her car she immediately burst into tears.

As she was about to drive off her phone buzzed. She wiped her tears before picking the phone up and read the message. 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it. I had a few things to discuss with Selina Kyle. Hope you have a good night, I love you.”

You’d think the “I love you” would make her feel better but instead she burst into tears once more realizing her boyfriend bailed on her for another woman. Ouch. 

(A/N: Hi. Hope you enjoyed reading this short little one-shot I recently thought of. I’ve been meaning to post something on this account and today I had some spare time to actually sit down and seriously try to write something. 

You’ll have to excuse my choice of words and grammar as English isn’t my first language (it’s not even my 3rd🤭) but yeah.. Hope you enjoyed it and don’t forget to follow, BYEEE!!)

[lenawritesfandom]

…Introduction…

Hello my name is Lena!

I am a 23 year old, bisexual, woman with she/her pronouns who enjoys to write and draw. I haven’t exactly wrote fanfiction since 2018 but I’m excited to start trying again.

I have been through a lot of fandoms throughout the years and I couldn’t just focus one blog on one topic. So I figured to be kind on myself and just write it all in one place.

I will most likely be writing a lot of 18+ (maybe not, we’ll see) but that doesn’t mean everything will be. I will take requests for 18+ and non 18+ content. Don’t worry, I’ll tag what’s what and put warnings for any possible triggering content.

…Fandoms I write for…

As of write now I will be writing for these fandoms. I am probably forgetting some, and will be adding more in the future.

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

The Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Supernatural

Marvel/DC

Cyberpunk 2077

The Walking Dead

Harry Potter/Hogwarts Legacy

Once Upon A Time

Inuyasha

Death Note

Black Butler

More to come

…Request Rules…

NSFW and SFW requests are allowed

I will write Headcanons, Oneshots, Imagines, or even a series if I really enjoy it and think I can flesh it out into one.

This one is obvious no p*dophilia or b*astiality requests

I will write angst, I have no problem with it especially the gut wrenching scenes that hurt so bad it feel good 😭

I have no problem writing characters having babies/children. I think an idea of a family is adorable.

Heads up I might not know how to write every character but I would gladly take on the challenge of writing them.

Another thing I mostly write for the female pov but I am also willing to challenge myself with male and non binary povs!

…Outro…

Well that’s all I really have to say. I hope I made a good impression on you all. I really aim that you will enjoy my blog and the requests I may write for you all. Have a good one! :)

[inkareds]

Sun-Kissed Skin Wally West // 500

nav // dc m.list // ko-fi ✧.* warnings: ficlet, very very uneditted, wrote this in a whim at 12am, apologies ✧.* genre: SFW // Fluff

Unsurprisingly enough, Wally West wasn't much of a morning person. That was Dick's thing when he wanted to be productive. But Wally? Even the days he had planned to be productive, somehow he could sleep through a hundred of his alarms and wake up late into the day if no one physically woke him up.

He thought living with you, thus having to wake up with you every day and go back to sleep every night with you in his arms would fix that situation. After all, though you did always wake up earlier than him, the ruffling of the sheets, the moving of limbs from around him, and the sounds around the apartment should wake him up right? Wrong.

In fact, the sound of the water as you take your morning shower or the ruffling of sheets as you make your way out of the bed. Made his brain realize that you were tangible and that you were here, with him. Thus bringing him so much unprecedented warmth and comfort it lured him into a deeper sleep.

It isn't until you wake him up with a flurry of kisses or the smell of breakfast being cooked that Wally gets up from the bed.

There were times though, extremely rare times, but times indeed, where he'd wake up just earlier before you.

This was one of those times.

Wally's eyes cracked open just a little bit, adjusting them to the sumlight that peeked through the curtains. Despite having them somewhat closed, they were letting in more sunlight than he wished. It came in rays, beaming rays that illuminated the room with bright lines.

He squinted as a low groan erupted from the back of his throat. He was just about to sit up and stretch his muscles when a sudden murmur of words caught his attention. Wally's eyes immediately darted downwards towards his arms.

That was when he realized, for once, he didn't wake up alone. You were still deep in your sleep, cuddling with Wally's side as your subconscious forces you to murmur words of confusion as to why your loving partner was trying to get up. Wally surpressed a chuckle from exploding and relaxed back into the bed.

He spent a few moment just staring at you, smiling as one of his hands slowly carress your cheek. You looked absolutely majestic.

Despite your morning breath, messy hair, slight drool on the corner of your mouth.

Wally couldn't help but let a goofy smile creep towards his expression. You looked incandescently adorable. He felt his heart swell a thousand fold as you shifted in your sleep. Moving towards him and pulling him closer to your embrace.

In the arms of the person he loved most. Wally West found himself drifting right back to unconsciousness. Just as he thought telling you when the two of you woke up about how he woke up before you. Then imagining how you would never believe him.

His smile brightened as he took one last glance at you.

Maybe this could be the motivation to wake up earlier.

He leaned in to press a small kiss on your sun-kissed skin. The rays of sunlight making you more ethereal than he thought could be possible. Before drifting back to the realms of sleep.

RIght, I apologize about how short this was, this was written on a whim because I suddenly got inspiration, and I swear I am writing my Matt Murdock fic I SWEAR I AM WRITING IT, And I swear I am writing my Dick Grayson fanfic AND my Druig Fanfic... I just need to edit them and I hate editting so,.... haha yes....

btw... bcs I saw you guys were interested

@fandomfaeryreads and @the-flying-graysons

[vigsilantes]

movie night (adrian chase x reader)

Pairing: Adrian Chase x Reader (one shot) Summary: You and Adrian have a movie night and watch Shaun of the Dead. (I have a hc that Adrian loves watching horror movies, specifically zombie movies, and discussing the logistics of the kills in it lol) Word Count: 536 Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Swearing, Comfort, Idiots in Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Post-Canon, Zombie Movie, Reader-Insert, Post-Canon, Post Season 1 Warnings: swearing, gore, blood, zombies

>>>(read on ao3)<<<

After a long shift at your café job, and Adrian just coming home from Fennel Fields, you two were exhausted, and you both didn’t feel like going out to patrol tonight, so you decided to have a movie night. Looking through your gigantic, shared collection of DVDs, Adrian suggested Shaun of the Dead, which is one of his favorite movies. Whenever you two watch it, or any zombie movie, he goes into so much detail about the zombies, and the kills, and you love it. He knows how some of these kills should look like, and he loves talking about the logistics of it. And he loves seeing if he would survive given the circumstances of each zombie flick.

“Oooh like right there, the blood should’ve splattered differently, and there would definitely be more blood too! But that kill was insane!” he smiled, getting antsy on the couch, you could tell how much he loved this movie. You both had an immense amount of film knowledge, but this was where Adrian shined. Normally while watching movies, people get quite annoyed with you and Adrian sharing facts or talking while watching. The 11th Street Kids always throw popcorn at you guys or heckle you when you ramble too long during a movie. But together, you two love to discuss what’s happening, and hearing what the other has to say. “These zombies are mad slow walkers though, which gives them all at least some kind of chance. In that one movie we watched, those ones ran, which would just make it even more impossible to survive.”

“Yeah, man, in a regular zombie apocalypse, I think we’d have some chance of survival,” you started, Adrian looked over at you, “you know we have some experience defending ourselves,” he giggled, “but if they ran, it’s game over for me… You know I’m not the fastest runner,” you chuckled. “You on the other hand, might have some odds in your favor, you are such a fast runner, babe,”  

“You’re fast!” Adrian instantly came to your defense. “Remember when we outran the cops that time? You were super fucking fast, I think you’d have a chance,” he nudged you.

“Eh… if they’re like the ones in that movie though, I’d be a goner,” you joked, “you’re on your own, Ade,” you tapped his thigh.

“Nooo!” He screeched. “I could carry you whenever we needed to run, or give you a piggyback ride,” he suggested, fully serious. “Ooh or I could tie you to my back like I did with Goff a while ago,” you started laughing.

“Wouldn’t I slow you down?” you said in between laughs.

“Nah, like you said, babe, I’m fast,” he gloated. “I don’t wanna live through an apocalypse without you," he said as he rubbed your hand. “It’d be superrrr boring, and like who would I even talk to?”

“That’s true, I am pretty fun to converse with,” you smiled, and he nodded in agreement. The night continued like this, watching the movie, making up fake apocalypse scenarios, and seeing how or if you would survive. In every fake scenario, no matter how insane it was, Adrian always made up some crazy, irrational way to save you.

[purestxblood]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐳𝐨.

Your traditional holiday ordeals had seemed pointless to Cleo, however, that didn’t stop you from wanting to share holiday warmth and love with her. Nor did it stop her from welcoming you with open arms and a small present of her own— the perfect Christmas and worst in tow.  𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, ♥

𝘾𝙡𝙚𝙤 𝘾𝙖𝙯𝙤 𝙭 𝙛!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 .

Major fluff ☁. Christmas Celebrations. Cute furry friends.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦— Mentions of depression.

With your knitted sock clad feet draped over the arm over the recliner and a mug in your hand, you intently watched with eyes of muse, drifting over your girlfriend's backside. There was a soft closed mouth smile toying upon the bottom half of your face while your lips lightly pressed against the cup, blocking your silent giggles.

It was the seventh of December, the first night of officially hopping – more like dragging Cleo into the notion of Christmas joys under twinkling lights and inhalations of pine tree bliss. From the start, she hadn’t understood your dire need to bask in the aura of holiday nostalgia. Holiday’s had been different in the Cazo household. For your girlfriend, holidays were like any normal day. She never had a roof over her head, warm lit fires and holiday films, nor did she have Christmas trees, lights, and gifts under the tree. 

While the child version of yourself had been snuggled in bed with sugar plums dancing upon your dreaming head, younger Cleo had been plucking plums off stands alongside her father and his rat friends. Your traditional ordeals had seemed pointless to Cleo, however, that didn’t stop you from wanting to share holiday warmth and love with her. Christmas was your favorite and you wanted to give your girlfriend a new memory, an experience she had yet to endure as a child and adult.

This had been Cleo’s first official Christmas in a place she could call home, your home.

She was open to the idea of home for the holidays, adorning the blush upon your cheeks and squeal of excitement; however, there was only so much she could endure. Cleo was truly against you spending more money upon presents… finances were the height of your worries and gifts were the last she wanted either of you to worry about. Plus, Santa wasn’t coming on Christmas night because why would he? The only present Cleo could ask for was your companionship and heart – both which she already had.

Binge watching Christmas movies had also been a drag – to her more than you. Though the cheesy holiday films you watched with your parents were your favorite pastimes, Cleo could never keep an eye open for merely five minutes. She had slept through all of them, occasionally muttering a word or two in an attempt to show her captivation. 

You didn’t mind her lack of enthusiasm and interest as you were more endearing upon the way Cleo clung to you in comfort: how she perfectly snuggled up to your frame, with an arm draped across your waist and a leg over yours. Her face using your stomach as a pillow, nuzzling it every so often when her subconscious would realize her grip upon your body had loosened, making her tighten her hold once more. 

It was a realization, a memory, upon why you realized your parents loved cuddling by the fire when watching Christmas movies. It wasn’t the movie per se…it was the proximity of warmth transferring skin upon skin and the synchronizations of heartbeats into one.

There was one tradition Cleo idolized the most – Christmas trees. 

Upon this night, Cleo had taken the reins upon decorating the Christmas tree. You had thought picking a tree was the highlight of your night, mesmerized by the way Cleo and Sebastian giddied their way between the forest of trees. You watched her observe from bark to treetop, grazing her fingers among the bristles to feel the texture and temperature of the fresh pine. Even Sebastian had been a sight for eyes, squealing in excitement as he raced between branches until the pair were set upon a tree. 

While Cleo had been an absolute pro at picking a tree to take home, she was absolutely clueless upon how to decorate a tree. Her frenzy to decorate the tree straight away diverted her to her younger stubborn and eager self. Cleo was headstrong and wanted to decorate it herself with the forgetfulness as to how.

Rather than stringing the lights around the tree itself, her body had been the replacement, strands of crystalized white bulbs etching her figure. “Meu amor,” she hummed, “I don’t think this is a laughing matter.”

There was a hint of amusement to her words and you place your cup atop of the table. “Whatever do you mean?” you arched a brow and stood from the chair, slowly creeping behind her. “The eyes in the back of my head are my biggest weapon,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder while lifting the lights in the air. 

Upon cue, two tiny eyes appeared behind the locks of her hair and you scrunched your face, playfully pointing a finger, “you traitor.” Sebastian squeaked, his two pays cupping the tip of your index finger before scurrying down Cleo’s arm and jumping to the tree.

“I think Sebastian has the idea on what to do,” you teased, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before taking the end of the lights and giving it a tug. Cleo frowned as the lights tightened around her frame, following the taunt hold as you pulled her towards you, “may we do this together?”

“Meu amor?”

Soft hands brushed the locks away from your face, exposing your closed eyes. You moaned softly in question, your eyes never lifting as you held onto sleep. The hand resting underneath your pillow slid out, wrapping around Cleo’s wrist. You brought her hand towards your chest, intertwining your fingers in the process as you snuggled deeper into the warmth of your bed.

“Wake up,” she whispered, lightly pressing her lips against your cheek. Her kisses mapped along the side of your face until they met your lips in union. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dull morning light and the gleam upon Cleo’s exterior. 

You rolled onto your back, maintaining your hold upon her hand while the other lifted and cupped her cheek. “You’re lucky I love you,” you mumbled with a yawn while casually glancing at the clock. It was nearly five in the morning and surprise grazed your expression. Neither you or Cleo were morning birds and it was a vast surprise that she was the one waking you before sunrise. 

“I have something for you,” she said, tearing your hands apart and crawling across the bed. You sat up, watching her with curiosity as she reached for a box. Sebastian danced, jumping back and forth over her limbs as she held the box in her hand, squealing while he tried to catch a glance into the box. 

Cleo’s green eyes were round and wide, gleam meeting the teeth that shined as she smiled, handing over the box. You stared at the brown cardboard box in your lap with red and green marker stamped atop ‘Merry Christmas’ with a hand drawn Christmas tree. Your cheeks warmed as a giddy girlish smile plastered your face, your insides feeling jittery of excitement laced with pure happiness. Cleo’s own aura had matched yours. It had been rare for you to see her filled with so much glee, sitting upon her knees like a child, awaiting your response.

“What happened to no gifts this year?” you quirked and brought the box up to your ear, shaking it slightly. Ruffled noises could be heard from the inside of the box and you brought it back down to your lap, your eyes wide in concern. “I got you something money can’t buy,” Cleo smiled with hope, “in case I’m not always here.”

Your lips twitched slightly, frowning at her words – in case I’m not always here. For days she had casually been running an idea through your head. You were completely against her bank demise and you had hoped she would take your concern into consideration. Part of you wanted to question if this gift had been her reason but you chose not to dwindle the moment or dwell upon the unknown midst to come; simply focusing upon the gift in your lap. The moment you opened the box, your lips parted in a gasp while your focus glanced between the inside and Cleo’s delighted gaze.

Two small eyes peered up at you behind white cotton fur and you cooed, opening your palms for four tiny feet to jump in your grasp. You brought the mouse to your face, allowing his whiskers to graze your skin. Giggles filled the morning air from the tickles upon your nose and you glanced at your girlfriend, “he’s perfect.”

Sebastian climbed atop of your limbs, his front paws hoisting himself up along your chest. “Though I think Sebastian may be fighting over him,” you giggled, bringing the mouse down to the mattress and allowing him to hop out of your embrace and run around Sebastian. Grabbing Cleo’s hands in yours, you brought her palm to your mouth, kissing the top of her hand, “thank you my love.”

Rain tattered among the window seal, drops cascading down the glass in synchronized rhythm to the sound of thunder rattling. Your eyes were fixated upon the window. There wasn’t much to look at, it had been dark hours into the early morning and you couldn’t remember the last time you got out of bed – let alone stepped foot out of your house. Days turned into weeks, and Christmas was ‘round the corner, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to lull yourself into the spirit of holidays you loved so much. 

It wasn’t the same since Cleo had disappeared. 

You begged and begged for her not to rob the bank but her pride and determination to do better to rescue you both from your shitty apartment were brighter sights. The stubbornness in her willed the purity in her heart but the outcome had been dim sending her straight to Belle Reve. She had been under maximum security and you hadn’t been able to see her since the night she gave you your four legged best friend now named Dimitri. 

He had been an I love you and goodbye all in one. 

In case I’m not always here.

Those six letter words burned your insides to the bone. Oh how you wished her declaration was only a what if situation and not a hint as to what would come. 

Your eyes brimmed from the windowpane to your four legged friend as his whiskers kissed the tip of your nose. A breathy short forceful laugh blew your nose and you reached your hand out from under the pillow. Running your index finger along the top of his head and down his back, “I guess we’re having an early morning, hmm?”

Dimitri wiggled his way over your arm and atop of your shoulder, nuzzling the side base of your neck while you huffed and pushed yourself up. Your feet dangled over the edge of the bed as you braced yourself, your eyes hanging upon your reflection across the mirror. 

The shirt you had been wearing was Cleo’s, a dark gray tattered sweater that hung loosely over a shoulder with a few stains from the coffee you spilled. You put it on the second your apartment grew too empty and quiet, hoping to inhale her scent and be filled with her aroma. The shirt no longer smelled of her but you couldn’t bring yourself to take off for a wash. 

Her cotton sweater had become a hug of home.

Dimitri squeaked in your ear, “I’m going I’m going.”

You aimlessly stared at the Christmas tree in your living room. It felt heavy and cold, like a ghost stalking in the corner, frozen and unable to travel past. It had been untouched, unlit. Christmas had gone from being your favorite, to the holiday you dreaded. Cleo had brought a new meaning to the holiday and without her, it felt as if Jack Frost came instead of the old man in his sleigh.

At least you tried – purchasing a tree and decorating it. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to light it up every night. It was simply there for the concept of the festivities.

Dimitri’s whiskers tickled against your jaw and you sighed, “only because it’s Christmas.” You stalked to the tree and bent down, plugging in the strand of lights, watching as red and green illuminated the room to your face. Dimitri squealed in excitement and you slightly smiled with your lips closed, “breakfast shall we?”

Entering your kitchen, you placed Dimitri on the counter before brazing over to the fridge, to get out leftover pancakes and syrup from the morning prior. Placing them in the microwave, you reached to open a cabinet for a mug, however, Dimitri’s frantic squeals halted your movement. Your eyes widened in worry, “what’s the matter?”

Tiny hands waved side to side and your brows furrowed, “you don’t want me getting my mug?” His head nodded while he waved with his hands, “then how am I supposed to drink my coffee?” Dimitri scurried among the counter top, disappearing through a hole in the wall. 

Leaning upon the edge of the counter, your gaze narrowed as you tried to peer through the small dark hole. Reaching in as Dimitri became visible behind a brown paper bag. “What are you sneaking about?” you arched a brow, taking both Dimitri and the clumped bag in hand. Dimitri squeaked giddy and ran atop of your arm to perch on your shoulder, glancing from your face to the brown paper bag at hand.

It was heavy in your palm yet you ever so carefully peeled it open. Licking your lips, you pulled out a dark green mug, etched with a pine tree–inside laid a crumpled small piece of paper. Your eyes began to blur in glee and you couldn’t help the genuine grin that returned to your face for the first time. 

“You sneaky sneak,” you breathed at your friend and placed the mug down to open the note. 

𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙤 𝙢𝙚𝙪 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙤 – 𝙘.

[keycomicbooks]

Witchblade Wolverine #1 One Shot (2004) Eric Basaldua Variant

#Witchblade #Wolverine #1 One Shot (2004) #EricBasaldua Variant, #ChrisClaremont Writer, Eric Basaldua Artist Father of the X-Men Chris Claremont writes this special tale that starts out with Wolverine and Witchblade-wielder Sara Pezzini getting married...and then gets crazier from there! SAVE ON SHIPPING COST - NOW AVAILABLE FOR LOCAL PICK UP IN DELTONA, FLORIDA https://www.rarecomicbooks.fashionablewebs.com/Witchblade%20Wolverine.html#1 #TopCow #RareComicBooks #KeyComicBooks #MarvelComics #MCU #MarvelUniverse #KeyIssue #WitchbladeWolverineCrossover

[layla4567]

LEWD POLLEN

Pairing: Jeremiah!pre spray x Fem!reader

Summary: Jeremiah's co-worker, one day you came out of the bunker and Oh no! You've been sprayed with Ivy's pollen! Now you will look at your coworker with dilated pupils.

Warnings: Smut, making out, rough kiss, mention of finger crack, porn with plot, course words

WC: 2k

🃏🃏🃏 🃏🃏🃏

You chewed on the tip of your pencil absentmindedly as you studied the plans, Xander next to you looking at you over his black-rimmed glasses.

"Do you need help with that?"- he asked

You looked up confused, Xander was so quiet you had forgotten you weren't alone.

"No, don't worry, it's okay."

"Are you sure? I see you distracted. Why don't you rest for a while?"- He sighed, arranging his papers and plans that were on the table.

"Okay, I think I'll go out and buy something to eat, do you want something?"

"No thanks, don't come back late"

You rubbed your eyes as you stood up from your seat and stretched your muscles. So many hours in the same position had left you contracted. With satisfaction you cracked your finger bones and left the bunker leaving your coworker busy with his project.

So many months working with him in his bunker had accustomed you to memorizing the infinite hallways and doors he had. Sometimes you felt like a mole working in such a protected place, protected from what? Why did he bother to live so isolated? You had no idea, you always thought they were crazy things and manias of your nerdy partner. You went out into the forest happy to see the sky and breathe fresh air. You walked a few steps when you heard a crunch of fast footsteps behind you, when you turned around a red-haired bombshel ​​extended her hand and blew a green dust making you step back, closing your eyes tightly. The girl ran away laughing mischievously and you started coughing, moving your hands trying to dispel the dust in the air. You opened your eyes trying to figure out where that woman had gone but you were alone, suddenly you felt feverish and that could only mean one thing.

"Damn horny bitch!!"

Ivy. Ivy had thrown her lustful pollen at you just because she found it amusing to see people succumb to carnal desire. You brought a hand to your forehead checking your temperature worriedly, you were already sweating lightly. You decided to go back to the bunker and leave the shopping for another time. You walked briskly with lewd thoughts in your mind, the image of Xander passed through your mind and stayed there. You thought about his full lips and imagined them kissing you, his wide hands running over your thighs, his… No! Why were you thinking about him just now?! The pollen was stronger than you imagined and it was already having an effect on you. You quickened your pace.

You arrived at the bunker shaking and with red ears but you tried to maintain your composure so he wouldn't notice. You left your backpack on the back of your seat and sat next to him, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you alright?, you seem agitated"- he asked looking at you suspicious

You hadn't realized that your breathing had increased a little.

"It's nothing, it's just that I had to run back here. The store was closed."

He didn't say anything and looked back at his work. You took a deep breath and took the pencil, gripping it tightly and looked down at your papers. From time to time you glanced at your partner, his quick hand tracing lines on his drawing, his glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose and then putting them back in place with his middle finger, his lips barely open as he concentrated. You bit your lower lip and surreptitiously squeezed your legs, the heat was increasing. Fuck.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't concentrate, the pollen was poisoning you inside. You felt very hot and cursed inwardly. You took off your jacket and fanned yourself with your hand. Only then did Xander look at you again.

"Are you really sure you're okay?"

His voice sounded more velvety or was it your imagination?

"Yes, yes, don't worry"- You said letting the air escape from your lungs.

But the minutes passed and you looked increasingly worse and your concentration was dissipating. You were sweating more and more and your hair was sticking to your forehead.

"Y/n you're not ok, maybe you're overexerting yourself. But it could be something else, let me take some samples for you to examine"

The boy with glasses approached with his chair near you and that only made things worse, your vision was somewhat blurry and your mind was a nebula unable to reason clearly. When he took your face to examine you, you sighed, closing your eyes and clinging to his wrist when he was going to move his hand away.

"You feel…so…soft"

Xander blushed, visibly uncomfortable, and slowly removed his hands from your face.

"I'll c-check these samples, it won't take long"

The redhead with glasses turned around to analyze the samples under a microscope. Now that he had his back to you, you were able to admire how wide he was. His muscles were visible in the tight shirt he was wearing along with his dark vest. Without realizing it you rubbed your hand against your thigh and dug your nails into your skin. When he finished looking at the samples he turned around and looked at you worried.

"Um this may not sound good but…" -he paused, meditating on his words- "I found particles of lustful pollen in the pores of your skin, that can only mean that Poison Ivy has poisoned you."

"Well… maybe I ran into her in the woods."-You sighed nervously and embarrassed for not telling him sooner.

"Well, in that case the symptoms you would feel are sweating, slight fever, dry mouth and throat, tremors in the legs and umm you know… a-a strong sexual desire"-He scratched the back of his neck with a finger, pulling at the collar of his shirt slightly uncomfortable.

"That's already happening and believe me it's not pleasant at all" -you whispered.

"Well, I guess I'll have to wait it out, maybe I can splash cold water on my face to calm the heat."

Xander made a worried face.

"That's the worst part, it won't wear off unless…well… otherwise, you'll die."

His words had left you frozen and you opened your mouth and eyes in horror. Was he trying to say that if I didn't fuck I was going to die?

"DO I HAVE TO FUCK SOMEONE OR AM I GOING TO DIE?? BUT WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Your coworker closed his eyes when you screamed. You woke up desperate, walking from side to side with one hand massaging your calvicles, your mouth was already starting to feel dry, damn it. The boy looked around nervously without knowing what to say, suddenly he approached and touched your arm, you gasped in surprise.

"I'm sorry for all this."

His eyes really showed great concern, and that made you melt like butter, even his green color seemed dreamier to you now.

"It's not your fault.."

You gasped in frustration and anguish and fell into your seat with your hands clutching your head, the tremors beginning to feel more. Xander sat in front of you.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, I guess… I'll die"

"There must be some solution"- he said

Oh yes, there was a much quicker and easier solution, but it was to fuck your colleague in the middle of the office and you clearly didn't want that, you didn't want to make him uncomfortable, disrespect him, or be unprofessional. You also didn't want to lose your kind of friendship that was formed between you. You looked at him with your eyelids heavy and your face dripping with sweat. Alarmed, he put his hand on your forehead again and that simple touch made the corners of your lips curve upwards slightly as you closed your eyes, enjoying his skin against yours.

"God you're boiling"

When he was going to remove his hand, you held it tightly again, now resting it on your cheek.

"It feels better when you touch me"

Your mind was so blurry that you didn't mention your words but he did and he turned red from the tip of his nose to the tip of his ears.

"If you want I can try...-"

"No never! I couldn't do it.."

Xander simply placed his other hand on your other cheek and caressed it, you moaned softly without thinking and then blushed embarrassed.

"Does that feel better?"

"God yes"-You gasped.

Now the redhead got closer to your face and your breathing accelerated as you looked at his lips with desire, you couldn't help it anymore, you couldn't reason, you just wanted to act, like a primal instinct that slowly took over you. You crashed your lips onto his in a fierce, rough kiss, almost knocking your teeth together. He started a little but tried to follow you. Your mouth stuck to his as if you had glue without taking your lips off even to breathe, you desperately needed to taste his lips, run all over his skin, but you knew you were being a little rough.

"I'm.. soo... sorry"-You hummed against his mouth.

Then you broke away abruptly to catch your breath and look at him, his glasses were crooked and his cheeks the color of apples, it suited him so well. You quickly straddled him to which he grunted nervously. Your kisses ran along his jaw and down to his neck, you didn't want this, but you needed it. Biting the exposed skin of his neck made him gasp, making you smile with pleasure against his skin.

"Ugh I need to see your skin, take off your shirt" - You said with a hand on the collar of his shirt trying to reach more skin on his neck and shoulders.

"Uh y-yeah"

You almost tore his shirt and vest to shreds, first he patiently undid his buttons, opening the collar of his shirt and rushed to kiss his collarbones. His suppressed moans were turning you on even more and soon you opened his shirt completely and were surprised by what you saw. How could a nerd have such a well-built body? Did he do push-ups and he hadn't told you? You looked up at him with your lips swollen and red.

"You're beautiful"-you said breathlessly

You earned a small shy smile from him, so cute. But the heat was still there, it hadn't gone away yet. You kissed him again with your tongue fighting with his while your pelvis began to move in circles against his crotch. He moaned into your mouth in surprise, you apologized panting but he told you it was fine. You continued with your pelvis tracing circles and rubbing on his growing boner. You were starting to get wet down there and breathing with your mouth open you buried your face in the crook of his neck with a whimper.

"Xander…I need you…now"

He understood, although somewhat shyly he put his hand towards his belt, you were faster and took it off without much difficulty, pulling down his pants and discovering his clear erection. You lowered your own pants and with a senton you went down towards his cock.

He gripped his hands on your hips and you moaned loudly, you should have done it slower but the need for penetration was urgent. You began your work by moving up and down while resting your face on his shoulder letting out gasps of pleasure. He tried to hold back but sometimes he let out delicious moans. Nibbling on his neck until you left hickeys, you raised your pelvis and lowered it, you wanted to keep a slow pace, but damn, you couldn't. The worst thing of all is that you sensed that it was his first time because he seemed very shy and blushed all the time as if sex were a taboo subject for him. You felt terrible about it but it wasn't your fault if that bitch Ivy had sprayed you with her shitty pollen. Your hands ran all over the redhead's body, your hands rested on his chest or scratched his back even with his shirt on. You tried to be gentle as much as you could so from time to time you would kiss his cheek or run your hand through his hair, stroking it. He responded to you with soft gasps, he seemed to enjoy it. Now your walls were getting tighter, you both could feel it.

"I'm gonna cum"-You gasped against his neck.

He wasn't ready to cum with you yet but you couldn't wait for him. You accelerated the pace, moaning brokenly, your pelvis rising higher and higher. Until, leaning closer to him, with your thighs trembling and your head on his shoulder, you came with a loud gasp. You stayed like that until you had regained your breath, you already felt better. You no longer felt that annoying fever from before. You separated a little to look at him and you realized that he was avoiding eye contact, his glasses were still slightly crooked, his chest was sweaty and his face was still red. You smiled tenderly.

"I really apologize for this again."

"Don't be, I-I understand.".

You carefully moved away from his lap and looked for disposable tissues to clean yourself. You gave some to Xander who thanked you, still red as a tomato. To respect his space, you turned around when he cleaned himself. Then they both adjusted their clothes and sat back down in the chairs. Clearly an awkward silence settled between the two of you, until you looked at the clock on the wall and realized that it was already late.

"I should go back to my house now" - You said, getting up.

Xander nodded seriously and walked you to the door.

"Let's never talk about this"-You said turning around before leaving.

"I have never agreed more."-He said and finally smiled slightly.

🃏🃏🃏 🃏🃏🃏

[hymn-of-muse]

Heartfelt Advice

A platonic Cassandra Cain + Barbara Gordon oneshot. A family talk.

A knock sounded from the doorway and Barbara set down the tea she made on the table, wheeling herself over to the door and opening it, giving the person in the doorway a soft smile as she moved back to let the other in.

Cass had her head hung low when the door opened, feeling ashamed and guilty for events earlier that night, almost like she'd prepared herself for a lecture.

"Come on in Cass. Do you want some tea?" Babs asked, soon closing the door behind the girl. "I just got a fresh box of chamomile yesterday." She offered.

"Um..sure" Cass agreed, taking a seat on Barbara's couch, hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie as she observed the red head move about her apartment. "Barbara...look, I know I shouldn't have-"

"Relax, Cass" Babs smiled over her shoulder with a soft time of voice to match. "I didn't ask you to come over after the op just to scold you, I can see you've already done that to yourself enough." 

"Then...why did you ask me to come over?" She gave a confused look as her eyes scanned over the other, Barbara carefully pouring water from a kettle into a cup on the counter.

"Because i wanted to talk with you about your behavior. I know how that sounds but it's alright, trust me." She carefully brought the tea over to the coffee table to which Cass took from her hands.

"I...I didn't mean to blow up like that, I know it's not a great excuse, I normally have myself under control and level headed but this time I just...I ruined the operation because of my outburst.." Cass gave a sigh of self-disappointment with her admission, staring into the cup of tea sadly

"Do you know why you had that outburst?" Babs asked softly as she hoisted herself into the couch next to Cass.

"No...well, yes. It's just" she paused to find her words. "Were supposed to work as a team and follow our plan, but Tim as so adamant about changing things and his reasoning made no sense to me." Cassandra explained with growing frustration.

"I really try to understand, I do. And it's not just Tim...I find it hard to understand a lot of the decisions and suggestions that come from everyone but they seem so rooted in emotional responses and...I struggle to..understand that. The whole emotional thing.." Cass' eyes stay on her reflection on the surface of the tea. 

"You struggle to connect with people on an emotional level, but you also struggle to understand emotions and cues from others in social situations. I'm guessing this frustration built up and that's why you snapped at Tim?" Barbara pointed out, leaning back on the couch with her eyes on Cass.

"...I'm not used to having to read by emotions, people's reactions to things are so different and it makes it hard to predict things. This whole.. emotional response to things in so many varieties makes people harder to read and I don't like it. Actions, physical details, I can read posture and gestures, all that is predictable..." She spoke softly, indirectly confirming Barbara's suspicions.

Babs took a moment as Cass took a sip from her tea before speaking up. "Have you considered bonding might make it easier? If you get to know your team members better, they might become easier to understand emotional wise." She offered.

There was a moment of silence before Cass broke it again, glancing up at Barbara with searching eyes. "What would I even do? I've said the wrong thing and upset people before, it seems about all I can do, I'm not even sure how Steph tolerates me some days.."

"You're putting too much thought into it Cass. You're too focused on details, and you're afraid of overstepping or losing people that you've shut yourself down and built new walls to keep yourself in. You need to let yourself take a step out of your shell and try talking. And I mean actually talking. Communicate your feelings and they'll communicate theirs too." Barbara placed a gentle hand on Cass' shoulder with a sweet smile.

"The further you box yourself up the more likely you are to snap at others again. Steph tolerates you because she cares, she's probably just waiting for you to open up so she can understand you better too." 

Cassandra's eyes drifted over Barbara's face before falling back onto the tea in her hands. "That...would make some sense.." she admitted as she gave it some thought. "If I talked about how..frustrated, not understanding some things made me feel, they would explain what I'm not understanding?"

"Exactly. You're not the burden you think you are, Cass, we all have trouble understanding something, and for you that's your emotional intelligence. There's no shame in that, you just need to learn to open up and communicate rather than bottling up and lashing out when it gets too much." 

Cass set down the cup on the coffee table and turned to Barbara. "Would...it be alright if I practiced on you?" She asked tentatively.

"Of course. Thats a great place to start." Babs nodded, motioning for her to go ahead and talk.

"I...I don't understand why you're so...gentle. as Batgirl and as oracle, both, you're fierce and determined, you always remained level headed, you seemed clear and focused and yet...whenever we talk you're always so...different. your voice is softer, your eyes are softer, you smile...youre just...gentle. I don't understand why you seem to have such a drastic change about you. I mean I know when you put on the mask youre braver, it's like that for all of us, but you're always brave mask or not, yet when you're just Barbara...you're...you're sweeter."

Babs held a warm smile as she listened to Cass list her observations and explain her confusion. "And you want to understand why I'm like that?"

"Yes. Why are you so..sweet?" 

"Cass, what you're noticing is fondness and care. I'm softer around you and others off duty because I know it's okay to be, and that's just how I am, especially around people I generally care about, like you. I'm not going around being a stone wall because that's not who I am" she chuckled

"And I know you need it." She added, tilting her head. "How was that?"

Cass let out a breath. "..that was...nice, actually. And...much easier than I thought." She admitted, shuffling a little closer to the woman.

Babs opened her arms and wrapped them around Cass, pulling her into a warm hug. "Good job, Cass. Thank you for talking with me, I'm proud of you." 

Cass felt herself smile as she leaned into Barbara's arms and returned the soft embrace. "...thanks babs."

this is in no way a ship fic please never tag it as such

reblogs are appreciated!