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pearlfull · 2 days ago

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must be love

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS: Batboys as boyfriends and their habits in a relationship! SFW + NSFW. 18+. 〝 What did you give me to make my heart beat out my chest? 〞 Batboys x Reader. ⋆˚࿔ A/N: Thanks for love on my last post! I TAKE REQUESTS! Sorta rusty, but I've missed writing sm chat

ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON.

SFW

DICK GREW UP WITH BRUCE'S OLD WORLD MANNERS AND ALFRED'S TENDERNESS. It would be insulting to both of them if he didn't treat his partner following those examples of devotion.

Always has a hand on you. Thigh when he's driving, drawing circles on the inside with the other on the wheel, the small of your back as you're walking through a crowd to help you guide through the heat of bodies around you both, your hip when he's talking to someone else.

So there's no question when you both are out that you're his. Not because he clings, just because he's so unmistakably in love and he's loud about it. His hand finds yours without thinking, it's second nature to him. He laughs louder when you're happy, arm stays around your waist.

When you're not around? If someone tries their luck, any girl is met with a smile and he shakes his head sweetly, "Someone gorgeous has me."

Another thing about Dick is he shows up. Not just for you, the other people in your life. They're important to you, so they're important to them. He bribes your little brother with action figures and of course he'll drive your sister to soccer practice, and they can hit boba on the way home afterwards. Holds your dog during fireworks. Your roommate has a bad date and he's on the couch with you and gives his two cents from a guy's perspective and wait hey, he thinks Wally's her type?

"They like me, right?" His hair has stray pieces of sawdust from helping your dad fix the garage door, and there's a streak of grease staining his shirt. "I can't have your whole bloodline turning on me if I mess up babe."

He wants to find his way to fit into your world. And vice versa for sure!

Will bring you to the manor, and kiss the inside of your wrist and introduce you to Alfred like you're royalty. "This is (her. him. them.)"

Like that's all the explanation needed.

With the others, he lights up when they ask about you, or when you play cards with Jason and Tim, compliment and study Dami's drawings or make Bruce and Cass laugh.

When you go out with his friends, he'll drape his arm around you and grin when they tease you both.

At his apartment, he presses a kiss softly to your lips after you steal a sip of his beer and Roy will grin at the lovestruck expression on Dick's face before raising his brows at him, "Why don't you ever do that to me?"

Flowers are often. Will deliver them casually, too. Was 4th of July a worthy occasion for them? You don't know but you don't really mind.

NSFW

Munch city. DON'T YELL AT ME I'M RIGHT.

Lives for your pleasure, but there's nothing performative about it, he just gets off to how he can make you feel.

He takes his time, draws it out, and holds your hips down to keep you from squirming. "Where're you going, pretty?"

Literally moans into you, louder if you get louder, looks up at you as if he's seeing the face of God.

"So pretty like this, fuck."

Offers constantly. You'd honestly think he's ovulating. You're drying your hair as you step out the shower, and he's kissing the side of your neck sweetly, and tugging you to his bed murmuring something like, "C'mere. Wanna taste you real quick." It's not quick, you both know, but he's already kissing inside your thighs.

All hands and praise!!

Doesn't rush the after, he's walking you to the bathroom and when you're back he has a wet towel and an iced water with a straw.

ᯓ★ JASON TODD.

SFW

JASON DOESN'T LOVE LIKE HE WAS BORN INTO IT, BUT RATHER LIKE HE HAD TO LEARN HOW TO DO IT.

Clumsy, then careful!

He's practical, until he's not.

Until you mention wanting to see a local play, and when you get home he's bought tickets to four.

"This one's experimental." His finger points to the pamphlets he got when he drove down to the ticket office. "This one's about war. Feminist period piece. A musical." He gets quieter, and shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Thought we could make a thing of it."

He's practical until he's adopting a kitten with you, no question.

You find her outside your complex in a silver bin, tiny and shaking and definitely sick. He just sighs and peels off his jacket to wrap it up as you kiss his cheek. "Guess we're cat people now."

You find him on the couch with the cat on his chest and he's reading Wuthering Heights lowly to her. He doesn't look up, just rolls his eyes.

"Don't start, [Name.] She likes the voices."

He doesn't say I love you early. But he definitely acts like it. He'll pull you behind him when you cross the street quickly, text you "home safe?" before you've even made it to your driveway.

Observant would be putting it lightly. Your favorite shampoo and conditioner is in his shower and he keeps makeup wipes and guesses your lipgloss shade to have an extra in his pocket in case you misplace it.

Checks your apartment locks, and replaces them, "Sweetheart, these deadbolts were shit."

Learns all your favorite recipes.

He learns how you like your eggs how you want the edges of your sandwiches.

"You feed the people you love, right?" A beat. "And I love you."

Your favorite childhood meal. How your mom made it after your first breakup, a week later the aroma is filling your apartment, and he has sauce on his cheek and he's trying not to grin.

He loves to cook with you too! Jason'll open the jars, hold your hips while you're focused on stirring.

Annotates your favorite books. Watches your favorite movies. Without complaint. He wants to know you. And initially it was scary, but you're healing parts of him he didn't know were hurt, and he tries to do the same.

Tipsy Jason? The roughness practically melts out of him.

He drinks slow till you arrive, and when you do, he lights up and Roy laughs and shakes his head as Jay pulls you into his lap with his drink still in hand, kissing your shoulder.

You tease him for being clingy, but the next he's murmuring into your hair, "Don't get how someone like you gets to be with me."

NSFW

Needs to see your eyes, and hear you fall apart because of him.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you."

Whines when you moan his name, and ruts harder when you beg.

If you try and stay quiet, he slows down and looks at you like he's got every bit of time on his hands. "Say it again, want that voice, baby."

ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE.

SFW

DESPITE EVERYTHING, TIM IS CONSISTENT! He always makes time for you, and doesn't brag about it, doesn't rearrange his schedule in front of you.

"I'll be in your neighborhood in ten minutes." You raise your voice to protest, but he's already lacing up his shoes.

Spoiled would be an understatement, but to Tim? It's bare minimum, don't even think twice about it.

He'll subtly match outfits with you. Red tie, to compliment your gloss. Soft grey if you choose blue. Enough so when pap photos come out later, you'll notice.

"You do that on purpose?"

"We look good."

Places for dates are quiet when you go out: old jazz bars, private late night planetarium tours.

When he picks you up, the smoke curls in the air like the music and he's gotten you the booth in the corner next to the drums.

You also go to the aquarium, the whole place is closed to the public. You swing his hand as it's laced into yours, eyes glittering and you can tell he's trying not to laugh at your excitement. “How did you manage this?”

He just shrugs, and kisses your cheek. “I had a favor owed. Small bribe. You said you used to come here with your mom.”

You almost melt into the floor.

He loves your perfume! In a really sweet way.

Will steal your scarf in the winter to wear to work. Buries his face into your shoulder when he hugs you.

Eventually purchases a travel size of your signature scent for himself to help remind him of home when he's away.

He keeps a photo of you in his wallet, tucked behind his ID. Steph teases him for it, claims he acts like he's a soldier at war carrying a picture of his wife.

It happens on accident that you find it, you're sitting on your couch on a Sunday, your legs draped across his lap, he's rifling through it to find a gift card that has thirty more bucks on it. He flips through it, one hand on your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over your hip bone.

There's a flash of photo paper and you blink. "Go back."

He raises his brows, freezing, "What?"

You pluck it from his hands, thumbing it through yourself and there it is. A tiny picture of you. He must've printed it himself, but you remember when it was taken. You, with a matcha latte and a goofy grin pointing to a billboard behind you with Tim's face on it.

You laugh, but tuck it back in. "You keep this in your wallet?"

"Yeah." His voice is soft, but his eyes crinkle with amusement.

"Why?"

"Because it's the one I always liked. Makes me laugh. You look pretty and like soft. And mine."

You stare at him a moment too long, and he rolls his eyes, "Okay, I sound insane."

"Nope."

Also nights in?? A great break for Tim. He gets overwhelmed easily and when he comes home he wants something real and sometimes that's you playing Mario Kart on his floor in his pajama bottoms.

Or decorating cookies shaped like lopsided bats.

You let him put his armor down, literally and figuratively.

NSFW

He works from beneath you!!! Controlled and deep thrusts, eyes locked on yours and studying the way your chin tilts and nose scrunches when he hits the right spot.

His hands are everywhere, but your hips are his favorite, rolling them in slow circles.

"That's it," "Just like that, fuck."

He also loves seeing you completely bent over sorry. Your back arched, legs shaking and your winded breath every time he pushes it in deeper.

Kissing your shoulder. Groaning against your back, he'll make you look at him

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kandyscorner · 3 days ago

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It feels wrong sending this on a Saturday considering its Jason's day...

But I can't get Tim and mean!reader out of my mind. Like she's not a mean-girl kind of mean, more like a highly irritable kind of mean. It's not really golden retriever energy X black cat energy dynamic, I don't see Tim as a golden retriever bf (that's more Dick), but more like very level headed and even tempered german shepherd. Reader is very Kate from 10 Things I Hate About You (an absolutely masterpiece imo). So Tim and Reader actually used to hate each other in highschool but ended up together years after. His friends like to poke the dragon, especially when they're around the speedsters like Wally and Bart, and all it takes is a single hand on her arm to calm her down, and everyone just coos at how sweet they are together. Very fire and ice, but the ice is to cool the fire down rather than to ice her out. She's very much ready to tear the waiter to pieces for putting tomatos on his burger and he's just like "babe, I can just take them off" about the whole thing. She's super competitive (which is why they hated each other in highschool) so his job during game night is to keep her from flipping a table. She calls him Birdie as a nickname but it actually comes from when she used to call him Bird-Brain in highschool, ahhhh young love 😍

Anyways, idk where I'm going with that its not really a request, just thought I'd share my thoughts on them and their dynamic. Feel free to add your own too if you have any!

@herodedicatedblog

This was so fun to write. It's game night with the core four (I love them and i also wanted to try my hand in writing them too). I love 10 things I hate about you but I couldn't figure out how to write an accurate Kate like personality, so I hope this works. Enjoy!!

_____

“I'm going to gut you like a fish and then I'm going to saute your organs with onions and force it down Kon's throat.” You say flatly glaring at Bart across the table.

Despite your threat, he just grins. Kon guffs at your statement and defensively sets his cards, tipping his sunglasses to peer at you.

“Why're you going to make me eat his organs? We're not even on the same team?” He complains. You give him a pointed look before casting a glance at Cassie for support. She just shakes her head.

“You're both cheating together, dummy” you say like it's obvious because it is.

“Says you!” Bart spouts, vanishes for a second and reappears with a chocolate bar, “where's your proof?”

“How about the idiot that chose to wear reflective sunglasses during a game? We've literally watched Kon’s cards swap out without him playing.” You gesture to said round glasses and watch the superboys brows lift in surprise.

“Oh really look who's cheating now,” Bart points an accusatory finger. You toss your cards on the table and stand.

“That's it's speedster. Your guts are going into the frying pan.”

Before you can toss yourself across the table at the boy who couldn't seem bothered by the whole situation, a hand presses into your low back. It drags across your hip, willing you to sit.

“It's just a game, sweets. If they're going to be stupid about cheating, I say let them.” The fire upset in your chest simmers at Tim's words, at his touch. The three other players at the table share a look as you settle back down in your chair.

“Great leader you are,” you huff, “what happened to integrity and honesty?”

“Aren't those the same thing?” You glare lightly at Cassie. She's supposed to be on your side. You turn back to continue your complaint at Tim.

“You're supposed to be setting a good example, birdie, not letting them walk all over us.”

Tim doesn't say anything at the moment and offers you French fries from his plate. You look at the plate then back at Tim. He lifts a brow at you. You finally take a fry but still stare him down.

“Babe, it's uno,” he says calmly and you settle fully in your seat and pick up your thrown cards.

“No dignity, I swear,” you mumble as you draw the four cards the two cheaters had cursed you with.

The game continues on, Kon very purposely keeping his sunglasses off but him and Bart continue to make faces at each other that tells you they are still very much cheating.

Tim’s hand settles on your thigh pressed to his, massaging at the fat of it, and he presses his plate of fries closer for you to share. By the time the game is up, kon shockingly (not really) winning, your upset fuse has withered and you've cozied up against tim.

Kon and Bart dance about the win, loudly admitting that, “Yes! We were cheating, suckers!”

Tim leans over and kisses at the corner of your pout before mumbling against the skin of your cheek about the ergonomics of cheating during a game of uno. You weren't really listening nor paying attention to your environment around you. You were too enamored by Tim and his affection, that the thoughts leached from your mind.

“That’s gross, get a room!” you blink back into the moment at Bart’s words and find them staring at you and Tim down with varying faces of disgust.

“You guys used to be so entertaining to be around. I miss your passionate bickering.” Kon laments as he puts his glass back on.

Cassie nods in agreement, “Now you guys just cuddle, it's boring.” despite her words there’s a smile on her lips, a knowing tease there. After all, she was part of the reason you two were together.

“I can’t complain,” Bart settles in his chair propping his feet up on the table, “My guts aren’t in a frying pan right now thanks to Tim.”

You shake your head at all them but before you can offer any weak condolences, Tim speaks.

“Don't worry, Kon. We’re still passionate, just where you can’t see.” it takes a moment before differing layered looks of horror and disgust cross features.

“Timothy Drake!” you smack his arm for the comment, your neck burning at the accurate insinuation and the embarrassment.

“I retract my non-complain and side with that’s disgusting. Keep that to yourself.” Bart says, faking a gag.

TIm is unbothered by the entire thing. He grins at you with what most would assume is ego but you see the way his eyes glimmer. It was a tease, a jab at you to get you riled up, just the way he liked you. He liked when you were petty, liked it better when it was directed at him and you two were alone because then he can watch you melt like putty. You weren’t alone now but he was sure it wouldn't take long for your friends to filter out.

“I’m going to get ice cream,” Cassie interrupts Bart’s excessive fake dry heaving. He and Kon perk up at the quiet offer.

“Take us with you please! They’re staring into each other's eyes and we don't want to be here for what follows.” Kon pleads with her and she happily obliges. The silence that follows their absence is canny but it doesn’t matter because Kon was right. You two were distinctly distracted staring into each other's eyes.

“I can't believe you would say that to them. There’s such a thing as too much information, Birdie.” you poke at his ribs in disapproval and he catches your hand dragging it up to his face to kiss at your wrist. You half melt and Tim moves his kiss up your arm. He moves the rest of your arm to sit on his shoulder.

It's when he draws in close, noses bumping that he watches you turn into a puddle, limp and hazy. He finally presses his lips to yours. A pleased hum escapes you but you nip a little harsh at his lip. He hisses as he pulls back giving you a disgruntled look.

“Don’t cheat,” you tell him. He scoffs ready to argue but you cut him off, “You can’t always kiss me and hope I forget,” you pause, “but for now it works.”

You drag him back and honestly how could he argue with that.

_____

Masterlist

Make a request!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #kandywrites #requests #kandys requests #kandyscorner

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mixingandmelting · 2 days ago

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Spoiling

Summary: when he suddenly gets spoiled by out of the blue

A/N: or when he becomes a devastating victim to DC's horrible writing (iykyk)

Dick:

It isn’t expected but whole-heartedly welcomed nonetheless as he chuckles at your administration.

“Every part of you makes you attractive, you know that? Every part of you is so damn attractive. Well, except for the occasional emotional constipation and being cunning towards everyone close to you.”

The last part he isn’t sure if that was meant to be an insult though he lets it slide as you continue peppering his face with your lips.

When you had gone out, he was going to watch T.V. in the living room, making himself comfortable on the sofa. However, almost as if you turned around the second you got there, it wasn’t long at all for you to walk back through the doors, crawl into his lap, and cradle him in between your hands.

“Aw, if I didn’t know better, I would think someone missed me already.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, mister.” He yelps, more out of over exaggeration when you pinch (and lightly in fact which you argue later) his cheek.

Letting out a whine, he turns his head and presses his lip against your hand.

“But, you still love me.” Giving you the puppy-eyes all while he says that.

“Yes, every part of you.”

He grins and pulls you down with him, returning the favor you showed him while listening to your laughter ringing sweetly in his ears.

Jason:

He doesn’t know what’s possessing you, but he’s not complaining.

“You’ve never done a single wrong in your life.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re not crazy whatsoever.”

“Right.”

“Your face is worth more than a billion bars of gold to get punched with a nasty right-hook.”

“O…Kay?”

Earlier, you said you were going to go to the bookstore to pick up the books you ordered only to come back in less than five minutes, huffing and puffing. He was planning to do some light reading as he waited for you on the couch, not at all expecting himself to get pulled into a hug. Well, just his head anyways, his cheek feeling the fabric of your shirt while your arms wrap themselves around him.

And as much as he would like to know what exactly had happened to cause you to be like this, he didn’t plan asking anytime soon. He’s currently enjoying all his senses being engulfed in you with the occasional kisses you press into the crown of his head while telling him how you love all of him in every way and will support him unconditionally.

By the time you're finally done showering him in your affection, he kisses you on the lips and cuddles you for the rest of the day, spoiling you back as his blood runs warm and his heart pounds loudly in his chest from his love for you.

Tim:

He doesn’t know how much more he can handle. Your thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks, your eyes clear and trained solely on his that makes him wonder if you’re peering into his sole. That? All of that isn’t even the worst part.

“I really don’t get it. You’re pretty, you like to skateboard and play DND, you have a social life with a bunch of civilian high school friends including Sebastian Ives, - did I already mention you’re pretty? Like pretty, pretty?”

Yes? No? How’s he supposed to know when his brain is currently fried? No thought, all the heat and high blood pressure getting to him because his face is too close for comfort to yours.

Plans to confront you regarding what had happened while you were out flies out the window, mentally noting away the hints you’ve given starting from your abrupt return to you holding him as if he’s the most precious being in the whole world. Not that he dislikes it, he’s more concerned that if he asks you to do it every day, it’ll cause you to end up getting exhausted and no longer have the energy to continue.

Reminding himself to check the security cameras later, he lets himself melt and become puddy while letting a happy hum when he catches you now rambling how he’s your pretty.

“Exclusively yours?” Eyes squinted, lips curled up into a love-drunken smile as he wraps himself around you, snuggling into your warmth.

#nightwing #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red robin dc #red robin x reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #dc x reader

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viktateapot · 13 hours ago

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PROBLEM IN THE MORNING (Batboys)

Dick Grayson:

The warm morning light gently seeps through the not-quite-closed blinds, spreading across the room and outlining the sleeping figures on the bed. You wake up first, feeling the weight of an arm lying across your waist. It's Dick.

He's holding you tightly in his sleep, pressing you close as if he's afraid you'll disappear the moment he lets go. His breathing is even and peaceful, and his dark hair is scattered across the pillow in a picturesque mess. You can't help but smile as you look at him.

You carefully try to slip out from under his arm, but he wakes up immediately and pulls you back to him. "Where do you think you're going?" he mumbles sleepily, his voice raspy and slightly hoarse.

"I need to get up, Dick. I have a lot to do today," you reply, gently stroking his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks at you, squinting. You can see surprise in his gaze, followed by a hint of disappointment.

"But pleeease, just five more minutes..." he begs, like a little kid, and you can't help but laugh. Dick has always been like that – energetic and cheerful, but sometimes he just needs a little warmth and affection.

You snuggle closer to him, inhaling his scent – a mixture of freshness and light cologne. "Okay, five more minutes. But then we're getting up, deal?" you say, and he nods happily in response.

You lie there for a while, just cuddling and enjoying the silence. Dick starts gently stroking your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You feel his warmth spreading throughout your body, and you feel so good and peaceful.

Suddenly, Dick starts tickling you, and you flinch in surprise. "Hey! What was that for?" you ask indignantly, laughing. "Just checking to see if you'd fallen asleep," he replies with a mischievous smile.

You start tickling him in return, and soon the whole bed is shaking with your laughter and playful fighting. You tumble on top of each other, gasping for breath, and Dick hugs you tightly, preventing you from falling off the bed.

Suddenly, Dick freezes and looks at you, his eyes becoming serious and a little pensive. He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips, first lightly and timidly, and then – more passionately and confidently.

You return his kiss, surrendering to the power of your feelings. His arms hold you tightly, pressing you so close that you can feel his heart beating. Time seems to stand still, and in that moment it's just you and Dick.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. Breaking the kiss, Dick looks at you regretfully and sighs. "Alright, time to get up. Otherwise we'll just lie here all day," he says, and you nod in response, knowing that he's right. But in your heart of hearts, you hope that someday you can just stay in bed, forgetting about everything else in the world.

Jason Todd:

A cold morning light filters through the poorly drawn curtains, making you shiver under the thick woolen blanket. You wake up, feeling the weight of a strong body pressed against you from behind. Jason.

He always sleeps like the dead, as if trying to make up for all the sleepless nights he spends patrolling the streets of Gotham. His arm lies across your waist, holding you captive in his warmth and strength.

You carefully try to slip out of his grasp, knowing that he needs to get up and attend to his own affairs. But he only pulls you closer, muttering something unintelligible in his sleep.

You smile and snuggle closer to him, inhaling his scent – a mixture of tobacco, leather, and something subtly dangerous. Jason has always been like that – a mixture of opposites, and that's what you find so appealing about him.

You run your hand over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble, and he grimaces slightly but doesn't wake up. You admire his face, so peaceful and serene in his sleep.

Suddenly, Jason wakes up abruptly and grabs your hand. His eyes are wide, and you can read anxiety in them. You look at him, startled, not understanding what's happening.

"What's wrong?" you whisper, trying to calm him down. He's silent, trying to catch his breath and compose himself. You feel his body trembling with tension.

"I had a nightmare," he says quietly, as if afraid to say it out loud. You hug him and press him close, trying to transmit your warmth and support to him.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm with you," you whisper in his ear, gently kissing his temple. He relaxes a little and presses himself closer to you, as if afraid you might disappear.

You lie there for a while, just cuddling and enjoying the silence. Finally, Jason lets go of you and looks you in the eyes. His gaze is no longer anxious, only grateful and tender.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For what?" you ask. "For being you," he replies, and gently kisses you on the lips. You return his kiss, feeling his love and warmth warming your heart.

You get out of bed and start making breakfast. Jason is, as usual, grumpy and taciturn, but you know that he's happy you're there. And you're happy to be there with him, knowing that together you can overcome any difficulties.

Alright, here's the translation of that version of the Tim Drake (Red Robin) fic:

Tim Drake:

A cautious light, seeping through the cracks in the blinds, barely touches the room, drowning in twilight. You are warmed only by the soft blanket, and of course, by the warmth of the person who fell asleep next to you. You open your eyes and see Tim. He's asleep, pressed close to you as if seeking protection, his breath quiet and even. His brow is furrowed even in sleep.

You involuntarily smile as you look at him. He's so focused, so purposeful when fighting crime or solving complex puzzles, and so vulnerable and defenseless in his sleep. You know that it's not easy for him, that he has been through a lot, but he never complains and always tries to be strong.

You cautiously try to slip out from under his arm so as not to wake him, but you don't succeed. He reacts instantly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.

"Where are you going?" he mumbles sleepily, his voice raspy and slightly hoarse after sleep. You smile gently at him and stroke his cheek. "I need to get up, my soul. I have things to do," you reply.

He opens his eyes, and you see confusion and pleading in them. He doesn't want to let you go, doesn't want to be left alone. You know that it's hard for him, especially after everything that's happened to him.

"Just lie with me for a little longer," he asks, and you can't refuse him. You snuggle closer to him, feeling his arms embrace you.

You listen to his breathing, so quiet and even, and you feel calm. You know that he is strong, that he can cope with everything that is in store for him, but sometimes he just needs you to be there and support him.

You lie there for a while, just cuddling and silently looking at the ceiling. The room is quiet, only occasionally you can hear cars passing by outside the window. You feel his body relax, as the tension leaves.

Finally, he lets go of you and sits up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. You sit up next to him and hug him, kissing his shoulder. "Everything will be okay, my Robin. I'm here," you whisper in his ear.

He smiles back at you and takes your hand in his. "I know. Thank you for always being there," he says. You feel his words warming your heart.

You get out of bed and start getting ready. Tim turns on some music, and the room becomes more cheerful. You dance, goof off, and laugh, forgetting about all the problems and difficulties.

You know that life with him will not be easy, that there will be difficulties and trials, but you are ready for it. You love Tim, and you will always be there for him to support him and help him overcome everything.

Damian Wayne:

In the vast bedroom, bathed in bright sunlight, you wake up feeling a strong arm wrapped around your waist. It’s Damian, asleep beside you. His face, usually haughty and focused, seems almost tender in sleep.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, you attempt to pull away. You know he has intense training scheduled with his father today, and then probably patrolling the city. But as soon as you move, his grip tightens.

"Don't leave," he mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep. He pulls you closer, so that you feel the warmth of his bare body. You smirk. Even in his sleep, he tries to control the situation.

"I need to get up, my golden one," you whisper in response. "I have things to do." He makes some unintelligible noise, but doesn't let go. You know he's not going to make this easy.

Damian opens his eyes, and you see a slight annoyance in them, mixed with something deeper that he usually hides. "What could be more important than lying with me?" he asks, his voice full of certainty.

You roll your eyes, although deep down you are flattered by his jealousy. "Well, for starters, I need to help Alfred with dinner for your big family," you answer, mentioning his favorite dog.

For a moment, his face softens, but he quickly reverts to his trademark inscrutable expression. "Alfred can wait," he cuts off. "I cannot."

You laugh, unable to suppress a smile. He’s so serious when he tries to command, although it almost always comes off as rather cute. You run your hand through his perfectly styled hair.

"I promise to be back as soon as I can," you say, and he seems to soften a little. He reluctantly lets you go, but still holds your hand.

"Will you miss me?" you ask playfully. He rolls his eyes, but you see the corners of his lips lift slightly. "Of course not," he says. "But I surmise that my day will be somewhat less… tolerable without your presence.”

You laugh and get out of bed. "I'll be back before you have a chance to miss me," you tease. Damian frowns. "Don't get any ideas, woman. I never get bored.”

You giggle and head towards the door. "See you later, Robin," you say, winking. With those words, you leave, leaving Damian alone in the room, wondering why you so easily slipped out of his control.

HERE'S A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR YOU, MY DEARS

Conner Kent:

A timid dawn peeks through the not-quite-closed curtains, painting the walls of your room in soft pastel hues. You wake up, feeling the warmth of a strong body pressed against your back. Conner.

His arm is around your waist, his fingers lightly fluttering on your skin. You feel his breath on your neck, and a light shiver runs down your spine. Conner is still asleep, but you feel his presence, his strength, his warmth.

You try to quietly slip out of his embrace, knowing that he needs to get up early and attend to his "superhero" duties. But he only holds you closer, as if afraid you might disappear.

"Don't leave," he whispers in a sleepy voice, and you feel his lips brush against your neck. You smile and close your eyes, savoring the moment. You feel so cozy and peaceful in his arms that you don't want to get up at all.

You snuggle closer to him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your hand. He strokes your stomach, and you feel goosebumps rise on your skin. His touch has always stirred a storm of emotions within you.

He begins to slowly kiss your neck, and you feel your breathing quicken. You know that if you don't stop him now, you'll both end up lazing in bed all day. And, honestly, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

You turn to face him and look into his sleepy, blue eyes. "We need to get up," you whisper, though your voice doesn't sound very convincing. Conner smiles and kisses you on the lips.

The kiss becomes more passionate and demanding, and you feel your knees weaken. You return the kiss with equal fervor, surrendering completely to his touch. His hands move to your back, and he pulls you even closer.

You kiss for so long that your head starts to spin. Finally, you break away from his lips, breathing heavily. "My sunshine," you say, a warning note in your voice.

He looks at you with adoration and guilt. "I'm sorry. I just can't get enough of you," he says. You laugh and kiss him on the cheek. "I know. Me too," you reply.

You both get out of bed and start getting ready. You feel Conner's gaze on you as you change, and the goosebumps return to your skin. You turn to him and give him a playful look. "What?" you ask.

Conner smiles and approaches you. "Nothing. Just admiring you," he says. He embraces you and kisses you on the lips. "I love you," he whispers. "And I love you," you reply, knowing that with him, you are ready for anything.

#dc x reader #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #conner kent #conner kent x reader #superboy x reader

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hanimanny · 1 month ago

Text

SHE'S BARBIE, AND HES JUST… TIM?

a.k.a Bruce notices the many upgrades Tim's been getting since your arrival.

tags: Tim Drake x reader (established relationship), Bruce Wayne x platonic!reader, crack, pretty bird is a certified genius!!!

word count: 2.2k , likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

It first started when Bruce and Tim—in the furry persona—went out on a reconnaissance mission gone wrong.

It was a trap! The blueprints for a deadly android able to possess and control whatever tech exists was rumored to be lurking around this area is nowhere to be seen, and instead, they were greeted with an army of robots. Old prototypes, tank-like and bulky, nothing like they were searching for but still extremely difficult to deal with.

The robots had surrounded them, and the usual method of overloading them wouldn't work, not with this kind—they were clearly built to take a beating.

While Batman fights expertly as he does, brute-forcing his way through by ripping out their motherboards, Red Robin takes a different approach.

He takes his bo-staff, which looks a bit different from his usual one—glowing a faint blue light at its tips—and hums as it spins (yes, like a lightsaber) and tags the robots.

He rapidly taps the bots with his staff while simultaneously avoiding the attacks targeted at him until he reaches the other side of the warehouse, tagging at least half of the robots.

With a click of his bo-staff, all the robots drop dead, as if life has been sucked out of them.

Strange, what the heck did Red Robin do?

Soon, like a domino effect, the nearby robots to the dead ones drop as well, as if they were infected with the same virus Tim had infected them with.

“Batman, the nano-virus will only incapacitate them; they’ll wake up in the next hour,” Red Robin informs as he takes the end of his bo-staff and stabs it through a robot's chest—destroying the motherboard.

Nanovirus? When did he come up with that? Sure, the idea of nanotech was prevalent, especially in this day and age, but quick-acting nanotechnology that was able to instantly incapacitate any tech—be it only for an hour—is incredible.

Batman nods, keeping it in mind to question Red Robin during the debrief, and continues to destroy the robots.

But the debrief wasn’t helpful at all. Tim was being as elusive as ever, which he thinks he picked up from himself. Saying that the Nano-Virus was a random project that he wanted to try out, that it wasn’t supposed to work this well.

Overcompensating. Tim’s trying to hide something. He may be great at keeping his tone varied and avoiding detailed explanations that would definitely raise flags, but Bruce is the greatest detective alive and can see through anything.

Bruce gives Tim a stern scolding. Tell him that he needs to be informed of anything, even if he’s just on a trial. It may have worked this time, but the future is always unforeseen, then dismisses him.

He’ll get to the bottom of this.

The next time Bruce sees changes, it’s in Tim’s demeanor.

He’s been brighter; not that he wasn’t happy before, but Tim has been more chipper. He could assume that was from having a girlfriend—the girl who works as one of the lead biotechnology engineers at Wayne Enterprises, who somehow pulled a Tim (it’s what the kids are calling it) and discovered all their identity in the first week of meeting them. Bruce would lie if he said he wasn’t impressed, especially with how you had no prior experience with being a detective (aside from doxxing people in your teenage years).

The stress of not needing to hide who and what you are from the person you love is surely elating, but that wasn’t it (maybe partially).

Maybe bright isn’t the term to describe it… It’s more like he’s free.

Tim sat on the couch, nursing a large bright red Stanley cup in one hand—probably filled with an ungodly amount of caffeine—and the TV remote in the other.

“You normally watch in your room.” Bruce's voice breaks the silence between Tim and the paused movie on the flatscreen. Tim peaks over his shoulder, as if he had to make sure that the deep stoic voice belonged to Bruce.

“Sup B, I do, but Birdie wants the big screen experience—like my room doesn’t have it,” he scoffs as he takes a glug of his drink.

Bruce nods as he observes Tim further. “You seem less stressed,” he prompts.

“Yeah, Birdie came up with an A.I able to sort the paperwork and get background checks on every company that wants to make a proposal with WE, so I got less on my plate.” Tim sighs, as if he doesn’t have a pile of untouched cases back at the batcave. “Did you know we have at least 250 fraudulent companies trying to make deals with us? Insane,” he mumbles before his lips are back in the cup.

“Also, she has me drinking more than 8 cups of water a day; I’ve never felt more alive.” Tim rattles the Stanley cup, hearing the clashing of ice against its metal walls, before again, taking a fat swig.

Bruce’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and not because of Tim’s unhealthy habits (maybe just a little actually). Not only were you able to convince Tim away from his horrible caffeine addiction, although he was still skeptical about the front, but you were able to come up with a program that passes Tim’s savant expectations.

You would be a great asset to the league, especially now because you know their identities.

You walk into the living room, startled, as you’d been dead in your tracks at the doorway.

Your eyes flick towards Bruce, then Tim, then back at Bruce, then Tim. and then—

You’ll never get used to Bruce’s intimidating aura.

“H-hello, Mr. Bruce Wayne, sir,” you stumble out and… bow? What the heck! You inwardly cringe at your action as you pull yourself up, gripping the bowl of popcorn with an unprecedented amount of strength.

Tim chuckles at your words, and Bruce settles a gentle smile on his lips because—after an extensive background check on—you truly are as sweet as Tim describes.

“Didn’t I say to call me, Bruce?”

Your face pales as if you’ve committed the greatest sin alive, as you visibly gulp (at least he still has his intimidation skills). “Yes, Bruce Wayne—I mean, just Bruce,” you nod as your eyes flick at Tim, who reads your mind (but I mean, it’s clear what you’re trying to do).

“Say, Bruce, do you want to join us for our movie date?” Tim asks, and your face loses all its color at this point. Bruce laughs softly at the comedy of the moment and shakes his head for your sake: “It’s okay, you kids have fun.”

You wait for Bruce to take his leave, bowing again (seriously, would you stop doing that!). before you scurry off to Tim’s welcoming side, letting out a mixture between a whine and a groan of embarrassment.

Bruce will save the interrogation for later, saving you the trouble of passing out due to fear and embarrassment.

Before he's completely out of earshot, Bruce picks up the lingering conversation between the two of you.

“He's my boss!”

“I’m your boss.”

“That’s different; you’re a loser.”

“rude”

“Cry about it, furry.”

“Technically, Bruce calls himself Batman, so he’s also—

“If you ever tell him I said that, I'll be sure to put laxatives in all your foods.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The last innovation that goes under his nose happens, literally, under his nose. or more so the batcave.

Scarecrow escaped, fear gas smothering the streets, and everyone is in the bat cave preparing to leave for the battlefield.

Gearing up in his quarters, Bruce—moments before the cowl is up—sees you whispering frantically to Tim, who’s dressed in his own kevlar gear—besides the mask—consoling you gently.

You seem nervous, more nervous than you normally are when he’s in your vicinity. You’re holding a metallic case to your chest, mumbling something he can’t quite hear.

Then Tim speaks up, “Bruce!” Not just Bruce looks at him; the others do too—Dick, Damian, and Alfred. Tim then ushers you in front of him, and the way you clutch onto the briefcase makes you seem like a little bird.

“Come on, pretty bird, you know it’ll work,” he encourages, and you take the deepest breath known to man.

“I made a vaccination for fear gas.” You start, your shoulders squaring as you stare directly at Bruce, “It blocks any foreign neurotransmitters from pursuing infiltration, so think of it as antibodies for a virus. You inhale it just like fear gas, and you will be immune; it's viable for any variation of fear gas—because I designed it to be fast-adapting—for 24 hrs.”

“Of course, it does vary between everyone’s metabolism, and it must adapt to you first, so for it to work I need to infuse it with your DNA,” you mumble the last part out.

“And how are you sure it’ll work?”

“I tested it out on myself, which is a very invalid trial, but I promise you, Bruce W.-Bruce, it’ll work.” There's a glint of determination in your eye. Bruce pauses at that and stares at you with his iconic glare. “We’ll discuss this when we get back; how do you administer the DNA?”

Your meek demeanor slowly leaves you as you perk at his acceptance, scurrying away from Tim and towards Bruce. “You just need to prick your finger, wait a minute for everything to infuse, and use it like you use an inhaler,” you instruct as you crouch down to open the case.

You get to work, pricking Bruce first, then Dick, and with much reluctance from Damian, him as well.

“Why isn’t Drake taking one?” Damian calls out as you hand the inhaler to the boy.

You glance over to Tim, who's already looking at you: “Umm… I kinda sorta… already took it.” Bruce deadpans and glares and sighs all at the same time. Tim braces himself for a lecture, but it doesn't come.

“We don't have time. Let's go.

Bruce turns away, pulling his cowl on, but not before he sees you launch yourself into Tim’s arms in a fit of relief.

“I can't believe I did that.”

“I can. You're one of a kind, Pretty Bird.”

Bruce huffs and shakes his head.

…

When they all return, they are much less banged up than they normally are. Your vaccine worked wonders; although temporary, this innovation is amazing! The pathways that have opened are endless; you truly are incredible.

Bruce, of course, forces you to sit through the debrief, which was actually not that bad. Hearing that your vaccine worked way better than expected fills your chest with pride. You can't help but steal glances from Tim, who is fully locked in Red Robin mode right now and doesn't even spare you a glance, but he does give your thigh a little squeeze, something to tell you that he is proud.

The lectures you receive, on the other hand… You don't know how Tim does it; sit through it with a straight face. You're sitting with your wits tight, breath held, and sweat dripping down your temple. You blink in a daze as you listen to Batman drone about safety, teamwork, and the ethics of self-experimentation and how you should definitely not do it.

You don't notice the pause in the lecture, zoned out completely to save your heart the trouble of all the anxiety. Although your name coming out of Batman’s mouth surely draws you back into reality. Your eyes focus again, and you’re met with Batman’s infamous gaze.

“Yes?” You squeak out, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Do you want to work for me?”

You blink owlishly, and your brows furrow in confusion, giving Tim a glance, who only shrugs in response.

“Um, Mr. Bruce… I already am… working for you— I mean.

“No, as a family physician, I've seen all your degrees: board-certified doctor, surgeon, and PhD in multiple fields. You can work from the manor as well. It's convenient that you already know all our identities and the inner workings of this family. I've also seen the tech upgrades you've given Tim. I believe you will be a great asset.”

Tim clears his throat, and Bruce spares him a glance.

“Great addition,” he corrects himself.

You're bubbling in your spot next to Tim, like a volcano ready to erupt.

“I would love to work with you all,” you reply back, but it's obvious you're trying to keep your composure in front of Bruce.

“You can let loose, Pretty Bird, B doesn't bite,” you erupt with permission from Tim. But what neither man expects is for you to launch yourself into Bruce, squeeze him like a giant teddy bear, and let out a string of thank yous.

Tim is stuck between a state of horror, adoration, and relief watching you hug Bruce with all your might. He didn't know whether to stop you, cheer you on, or simply pass out.

“I won't let you down, Bruce!” You pull away, and there's a bright gleam in your eye, something that Gotham lacks entirely.

Where the hell did Tim find this girl?

“Let's go, Duckie!”

And you're off, pulling Tim along, who’s sporting a lovesick grin.

The adventures of Pretty bird (shenanigans revolving you and Tim's family)

#manny's teashop #dc comics x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x you #tim drake #red robin #dc tim drake #dc red robin #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake scenarios #dc comics #batboys x reader #tim drake fluff #tim drake crack #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x platonic!reader

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gilverrwrites · 6 months ago

Note

that Tim x You x Black Mask fuck or die but Tim surprises you and Maskie by having a pussy and Mask makes you scissor in front of him

Oh, I do like that. I can just imagine the pleased little raise of Roman's brows. Not that you or Tim would see it, being hidden behind the mask of course, but his voice is laced with such sick delight as he calmly states; "Oh, this just got so much more fun."

Lucky for Tim his own domino mask hides how he can't look at you, and most of his blush, but within moments he's biting his lip, failing at hiding the blissed-out smile on his lips as he grinds his clit against yours. His whole body growing more and more flushed as he chases the red hot pleasure that's growing in his gut. His hands are on your thighs, encouraging you to keep in time with him until he sees your hands shaking. Once he notices, he holds your hands tight, trying to solace but his hips don't stop rolling, don't even falter until Roman gives you both permission to cum.

All the while Tim's cape got tangled between the two of you, drenched in your shared juices. When Roman's had his fill watching, he shoves the fabric up Tim's cunt, as much as he can fit, keeping him plugged and writhing in discomfort while holding your legs open for Roman. Nice easy access for him to fuck you, but when your cries grate on him to much he yanks it back out, barking that he's; "Sick of your fucking whining." Before gagging you with it.

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #red robin #tim drake #trans tim drake #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #black mask x reader #black mask #reader insert #f reader #dd:dne #tw fuck or die #tw insertion #tw dubcon #tw noncon

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yannawayne · 2 months ago

Text

If I can't have you baby, no one else in this world can!

SYNOPSIS: The Batboys & Cass at their most unhinged, most protective, and most devoted. TAGS: FEMALE Reader! Fluff! Jealousy! Fake Marriage, Mild possessive behavior, Mild innuendo / suggestive banter, Mentions of weapons/violence + Older! Of-Age! Damian NOTE: Don’t take the content or characterizations too seriously! It’s literally just a goofy, for-fun fic :ppp AO3: yenwayne Ko-Fi: buy me a coffee!

જ⁀➴ RICHARD GRAYSON

“I hate these missions,” came Dick’s voice, petulant and immediate in your earpiece.

You didn’t pause. Instead, you stepped delicately around a marble column, your heels tapping rhythmically across the ballroom floor. Your dress shimmered with every movement, a slinky midnight blue number that hugged your form like it had been stitched by jealous gods. Your fingers grazed the low curve of your hip, pretending to adjust the fabric, when in reality you were activating the mic hidden beneath a faux diamond brooch.

“Nightwing,” you said calmly, smiling at a champagne server as they approached. You took a glass with a graceful nod, flipping your hair over your shoulder with casual elegance. “We’re at a gala. There are hors d'oeuvres and a string quartet. Try not to combust.”

“I am combusting,” he muttered, like he was personally being subjected to torture. “You’re pretending to be married to Barry Allen. That’s basically infidelity.”

“We fake-filed a fake tax return together like, five minutes ago,” you said dryly. “Relax.”

Dick huffed—huffed—and you could practically see him brooding on some rooftop, arms crossed like a bat-gargoyle. “I just think I, your actual husband, should be there.”

You let out a quiet sigh, walking toward the ornate staircase where Barry stood chatting up a senator. You could already see the knowing glint in his eye as he spotted you, lifting his glass like a man trying too hard to appear casual.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, smiling sweetly as you closed the distance. “You are literally in my ear. You’re more present than Barry is right now, and he's the one touching me.”

“What?!”

You glanced sideways at Barry. He shifted, his palm resting in the safe, polite territory of your lower back as he leaned in to whisper something to the senator. “Arm, Dick. It’s just an arm. We’re blending in. No need to send in the Batjet.”

“I swear to god if he tries the forehead kiss thing—”

You blinked. “What forehead kiss thing?”

“He does this thing,” Dick said, his voice a little breathless with outrage, “where he smiles all slow and soft and tilts his head, and he leans in like he’s gonna whisper something but instead he does this little forehead press like he’s in a rom-com. I hate it. That’s how he seduced Iris that one time!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh, shifting your weight subtly as you allowed Barry to guide you toward the center of the room. The music shifted into a softer waltz.

“Pretty sure they were already dating when that happened.”

“Not the point. I should be the one fake-forehead-kissing you at fancy galas.”

You stepped past an older couple slow-dancing near the fountain centerpiece and turned, giving Barry a small apologetic smile as you pretended to be distracted by something in your clutch.

“Would that make you feel better?” you whispered.

“Immeasurably.”

You were about to respond when you caught the faintest flicker of movement overhead. The security camera nearest you pivoted. Just slightly. Just enough.

Your smile vanished.

“Did you just hijack the camera feed to watch me?”

Silence.

“Dick.”

“…No?”

“Dick.”

“Camera’s just doing its job.”

“You are the camera.”

There was a beat of long, silent guilt on the line.

“It’s a security sweep,” he finally muttered, defensive. “Totally standard.”

You turned and stared directly up at the rotating lens, narrowing your eyes. “You’re pouting, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, full pout in his voice.

You glared at the camera, already knowing the exact pout he was pulling behind the cowl. Barry chuckled beside you, still in his gala-husband role. You looped your arm through his and leaned in with a soft smile, playing along for the watching donors. Wealth glittered across the ballroom. Pearls, tuxedos, and dresses worth more than a small country’s GDP.

And then Dick dropped the line.

“You just had to wear that gown, didn’t you?”

Your eyebrows twitched.

“It’s a dress.”

“It’s a crime scene, actually.”

You nearly snorted champagne up your nose. “Are you okay? Do you need to go punch a mugger and walk it off?”

“You don’t understand,” he hissed. “There are at least six guys pretending not to stare at you right now. One of them dropped a canapé. I watched it happen. I’m seconds from pulling the fire alarm.”

You hummed in amusement and tilted your head, letting the chandelier light catch the sheen of your lashes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You swirled the champagne in your glass, then took a slow, knowing sip, the bubbles tickling your lips as you smirked. “Are you gonna rappel in through the ceiling and punch Barry in the face mid-waltz?”

He didn’t answer immediately. And that was the worst part.

“…Maybe.”

You laughed under your breath, drawing curious eyes from across the floor. “You are the most dramatic man I’ve ever married.”

“I’m the only man you’ve ever married!”

“For now,” you teased.

Dead. Air.

You could feel it through the silence. The precise moment Dick’s jaw clenched, the way his hands probably curled into fists on some high-rise ledge. You almost felt sorry for the next criminal who looked at him funny.

“Sweetheart,” he said finally, voice dropping into that dangerous purr he only used when he was 70% teasing and 30% ready to commit felony assault. “If Barry so much as breathes too close to you, I’m driving over there and disguising myself as a waiter just to strangle him with a linen napkin.”

You giggled again, covering it with the rim of your glass and a quick flutter of lashes.

“Relax. You’re still my real husband.”

“I should hope so. I signed that marriage license in blood.”

“You pricked your finger opening the envelope.”

“It still counts.”

જ⁀➴ JASON TODD

The dim light of the bookstore warmed the space, the faint scent of old paper mixing with the musky air of Gotham’s streets. It was the perfect Saturday afternoon. You and Jason had been to this little corner bookstore a few times, tucked away near the flat you shared, where no one bothered you, just the way you liked it.

Today, the place had a sale. And you were taking full advantage. Because, books.

You bent slightly, pulling another book off the shelf. Your fingers lingered on the spine, the title catching your eye, but your gaze drifted briefly to Jason beside you.

He was holding a stack of books you'd already picked up, his strong arms braced beneath the weight. His other hand was occupied, casually flipping through the pages of a suspense novel. His worn-out motorcycle helmet hung off his elbow, the strap digging into his skin like it always did when he wasn’t too concerned about making a spectacle of himself.

The sight of him in his usual attire, tight compression shirt, cargo pants, and those damn ratty boots, was almost enough to make you forget why you were even here. You couldn’t help it. Your husband, who exuded that rough, untamed charm that always made your heart skip a beat, even after everything.

You coughed, quickly pulling your focus back to the shelf, cheeks flushed. You weren’t here to ogle at him. You were here to buy books, to stock up for the upcoming winter nights in your cozy little flat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he noticed the way you’d momentarily gotten lost in thought.

“You okay there, doll?” His voice was low, but that teasing drawl was there, practically sending your internal warning system into overload.

You snapped back to the shelf, cheeks now officially flushed. “Fine. Just… you know, checking out some new releases. That’s all.”

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching out to adjust the stack of books he was holding, brushing against your side. You could feel his eyes on you, that damn teasing look in them. He knew.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, clearly amused.

You shot him a glare. “Stop being so obvious.” You grabbed a couple more books, pretending they were the most interesting thing in the store, while mentally trying to avoid imagining how good he looked in those pants.

The moment passed, and you made your way to the counter. But, of course, Jason insisted on carrying all the books for you, despite them weighing next to nothing. Which, really, wasn’t a huge shock. The man could bench press a car if he felt like it.

The cashier, a young guy in his twenties, greeted you with a friendly smile as he began scanning your newest babies.

“Oh, you read The Cruel Prince?” the cashier suddenly asked, lifting the book from your pile with excitement. “I’ve been dying to meet someone else who loves it.”

You couldn’t help but grin, excited to talk about one of your favorites. “Yes! It’s amazing. I love Jude as a character. She’s so strong, and the plot twists? Wild.”

The cashier, clearly eager to engage, leaned in slightly, his elbows resting casually on the counter. “I know, right? I just finished The Wicked King,” he said with a boyish laugh.

“I’m almost done with The Queen of Nothing now.” His eyes flicked up, lingering a moment too long on your face. “You into high fantasy like this, or was it just a one-time thing? ‘Cause if you’re looking for recs… I’ve got a few I think you’d really love.”

You smiled, delighted by the conversation. “Oh, I’m always open to fantasy suggestions. I love character-driven stuff with sharp worldbuilding.”

Completely absorbed, you missed the way the cashier’s eyes dipped briefly down your frame before flicking back up to meet yours. "Lucky for me, you stopped by today.”

Jason, who had been standing just behind you, tensed. Subtly, he stepped closer, the warmth of his body brushing your back as he shifted the weight of the books in his arms. His free hand settled on your waist, low and firm.

It was casual, at least outwardly, but there was nothing casual about the way his fingers flexed slightly against your coat.

The cashier, oblivious or ignoring the shift in energy, handed you the receipt, gaze still lingering. “Seriously, though. A doll like you geeking out over The Cruel Prince? That’s rare. Real rare. Kinda makes a guy believe in fate.”

Jason’s voice cut through the moment, cold enough to make the air around you drop a few degrees. “Yeah,” he said, eyes locked onto the cashier’s now, unreadable but intense. “She’s one of a kind.”

The cashier blinked, clearly feeling the shift, but tried to laugh it off. “Right, of course. I’ll, uh, finish ringing this up.”

Jason didn’t move, didn’t blink. “You do that.”

A moment later, the books were bagged, and the cashier’s enthusiasm had visibly dimmed. He offered a half-hearted smile, handing you the bag. “Enjoy your books.”

Jason took it before you could, his hand brushing against yours as he did. “We will.”

You followed Jason out of the store, blinking at the sudden rush of cold Gotham air. You were about to say something when you caught the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes stayed forward.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Jealous?”

He scoffed, but didn’t deny it. “Nah. Just making sure it’s clear. You’re mine.”

You slipped your arm through his. “Always.”

જ⁀➴ TIM DRAKE

“Hi, Timmy Junior,” you crooned, crouching low to the penthouse floor with a dramatic sweep of your coat as it slipped from your shoulders. Your fingers found the cat’s chin, scritching gently beneath the plush fur.

The feline let out a noise of pure bliss, an undignified grrrrrr-rup purr as he leaned his entire ridiculous body weight into your hand.

“You’re so spoiled,” you whispered like a secret, ruffling his ears. “Where’s your dad, huh? Inventing new molecules? Hacking the Pentagon again?”

You padded deeper into the apartment, your heels left by the door, your coat sliding neatly onto the rack with one smooth toss. The air inside was warm and low-lit, cast in that signature honey-gold glow Tim always adjusted for you when you worked late at the hospital. Cozy, inviting. The kind of lighting that lured you toward rest like gravity.

Your gaze landed on him instantly. Folded up on the couch in a soft Gotham U hoodie and well-worn sweatpants, socked feet tucked beneath him, glowing laptop balanced on his knees.

The blue light framed his face like a crime scene photograph. His fingers flew across the keys, precise, fast, controlled. His brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched just slightly, like whatever he was typing deserved war.

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you launched yourself forward like a sleepy jungle cat and collapsed into his lap, head-first, limbs folding as you burrowed in like you belonged there. Because you did.

Tim paused, but only for a second. Then one arm wrapped around your waist, locking you into place as his other hand resumed its furious typing like your sudden weight had simply activated some comforting subroutine. Like muscle memory. Like ritual.

“You’re late,” he murmured, finally meeting your eyes with that gentle, tired smile you’d always been weak for.

“Code blue,” you mumbled, curling tighter into his hoodie. “And two separate idiots who thought knife fights belonged in the ER lobby.”

He hummed low and familiar. “Gotham.”

You exhaled slowly, melting into him. The scent of him wrapped around you—green tea, clean soap, and ozone, like he hadn’t moved from this couch in hours. The safest smell in the world.

But something… tugged.

You felt it now. His body didn’t soften the way it usually did when you came home. His hold was there, but too controlled. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t gone away. He hadn’t kissed your forehead.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

Tim’s lips parted like he wanted to deny it, but instead, he let out a breath that deflated his whole chest. “It’s nothing,” he said, almost too fast. “Just… internet drama. Dumb stuff.”

“About work?” you asked, brows raising.

“No,” he said after a beat, tone shifting. “About us.”

You stilled.

Tim blinked at you, then sighed. “You did an interview with Vicky Vale today?”

You blinked again, slower this time. “…Yesh,” you mumbled into his neck. “She was a nightmare in heels, but Bruce said something something ‘positive press,’ ‘curated coverage,’ PR speak, blah blah—”

“Right,” Tim cut in, nodding slowly. Too slowly. “And in that very public interview, broadcast to half of Gotham… you said Nightwing was your favorite vigilante.”

Silence.

You shifted.

“I stand by my words.”

He gasped in faux betrayal and grabbed your hand, holding it up like a piece of evidence. The diamond on your engagement ring caught the light dramatically.

“This is a literal rock,” he said, dead serious. “A shiny, cut-from-the-mountain, six-years-of-our-life-together rock. And that,” he gestured vaguely in the air, “is slander.”

You bit back a grin as he continued, spiraling.

“…Treason, even,” Tim added dramatically, eyes wide with mock hurt. “I should call Bruce. Or the League. Or Alfred. Someone’s has got to arrest you.”

You covered your mouth to stop the laugh threatening to bubble out. “You’re going to tattle on me to Alfred?”

“Damn right I am. He likes me best. He’ll understand.” He pointed a finger accusingly. “And you—you—are officially banned from Titans reruns, YouTube edits, and any content where Nightwing is in leather and doing that thing with his sticks.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “What thing with his sticks?”

Tim looked personally wounded. “You know what thing. The twirly thing! The one with the hip pivot.”

You smirked, throwing your arms around him like a blanket. “Hm. But you're still my favorite fiancé.”

He scowled into your hair. “Not good enough. I want it in writing. Signed affidavit. Notarized.”

“Fine,” you deadpanned. “I, under oath, declare Timothy Jackson Drake to have the second-best butt in Gotham.”

Tim pulled back sharply. “Second?!”

“Best fiancé,” you corrected with a squeal, kicking as he launched a tickle assault. “Best fiancé! Tim! Stop! I swear to—!”

He kept going, merciless and grinning, until you both dissolved into laughter and flailing limbs on the couch. Tim finally flopped beside you, chest heaving, arms still tangled around you.

You were still breathless, clutching your stomach, when he murmured:

“…Still should’ve been first-best butt.”

You reached over and kissed his nose. “You’re number one in my heart.”

“And in Alfred’s rankings.”

“Exactly.”

જ⁀➴ DAMIAN WAYNE

The wind bit at your exposed skin, Gotham’s chill cutting through every crack in your suit, making you shiver despite your best efforts to hide it. You tried to pull the oversized cape tighter around your shoulders, Damian’s cape, and flicked it dramatically, hoping for a bit of extra warmth. It made you feel a little ridiculous, but god, it was warm.

You glanced sideways at Damian, the stone wall of a man beside you, not even acknowledging the cold as he stared down at the street below, his jaw set and his posture as rigid as a statue.

You raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’m freezing my ass off in your oversized cape, and you’re standing there like a stone wall, making me look like a damsel in distress.”

Damian flicked a glance at you, his lips barely twitching into a smirk. "You do look ridiculous."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the cape again. It really did swallow you whole. You felt like an overgrown child in a giant’s cloak.

"Well, at least I’m warm," you muttered, "unlike some people."

“Tt. I’m fine, beloved,” he said, but there was a little something extra when he said beloved.

Something warm. Something intense. And despite the cold, your heart did a little leap.

Sexy stone statue, you grumbled to yourself. You were so not above it.

The night air crackled with tension for a moment before Damian broke the silence. “Something’s off. Stay close.”

You straightened, your body on high alert, instinctively leaning closer to him. You followed his gaze toward the flickering lights…A bank alarm.

The unmistakable shriek of Gotham’s most wanted sound—bank robbery.

“Trouble,” you said, giddy with the thrill.

“Indeed,” Damian replied, voice low and dangerous. Before you could respond, he vanished into the night, melting into the shadows.

“Show-off,” you muttered, launching a web and following him across the rooftops.

You landed beside him, crouched above a black van outside the bank. Thugs were unloading duffle bags—money and cologne, Gotham’s finest.

“Someone’s making a withdrawal,” you whispered.

“Then let’s make sure they don’t get too comfortable,” Damian muttered. With a single flick of his wrist, a Batarang flew out, slicing through the air and knocking one of the thieves out.

“Smooth,” you swooned, eyes wide with admiration. “Hey, this might be the best date night we’ve had all month.”

“Tch. I prefer less… crowded dates,” Damian shot back, already taking down another guy with a fluid motion that made it look effortless.

Fast. Precise. Unfairly hot.

You couldn’t help but grin, heart racing as you jumped into the action, doing a flip over one of the thieves to disarm him mid-air. You were all set to land on your feet, ready to keep up the momentum, when suddenly, a shadow slammed into you from nowhere.

The impact knocked the wind from your lungs, sending you crashing into the rooftop with a grunt.

Damian’s head snapped your way, eyes dark, hand flying to his blade. Ready to kill.

"Wait!" you said, breathless, as you pushed yourself up and caught sight of the person on top of you.

"Black Cat?" you breathed, disbelief flooding your chest.

She grinned down at you, that too-familiar cocky smile spreading across her face.

"Hey, Spider," she said, pressing a hand down on your shoulders, keeping you pinned, her fingers firm and possessive. "Long time no swing. You look… deliciously out of breath."

Your brain short-circuited. "Holy shit. What are you doing in Gotham?"

Before she could answer, a shadow dropped hard beside you. Damian. Radiating absolute fury in a tight, concentrated glare.

“Get. Off.”

Two words. Ice-cold.

Black Cat didn’t flinch. In fact, her grin widened.

"Ooooh," she said, drawing out the syllable like she’d just tasted something expensive. “You must be new. You gotta get in line, cutie. Spider’s got fans, you know.”

“I am not a fan,” Damian snapped. “I am her partner.”

You sat up. “Aw.”

Damian flushed.

“In combat,” he added stiffly.

You winced. “Less aw.”

Black Cat howled. “Oh, this is so much better than I hoped. You got yourself a territorial one, huh?” She leaned in close to Damian, eyes twinkling. “Tell me, do you bite?”

“I don’t bite,” Damian said coldly.

“Oh?” she said with a smirk. “Shame.”

“I maim.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Black Cat tsked, her hips swaying as she walked forward with that signature, cat-like confidence. “Relax, Bird Boy. Just saying hi to my favorite Spider.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Guys! Seriously? We are not doing this right now. We’re literally in the middle of a robbery!”

Black Cat flipped her hair over her shoulder, unfazed. “Handled it already, sweetheart. I snagged the bank’s security drive, webbed the goons to their getaway van, and took care of the heavy lifting before I jumped you. You’re welcome.”

“…You webbed—my web fluid?!” you gawked.

“Borrowed,” Black Cat said airily. “Don’t be stingy.”

“I made that with bio-polymers and blood, you kleptomaniac bat-licking menace—”

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you can make another one of your web knick-knacks.”

Damian’s eyes flashed. “Those cartridges are proprietary.”

“Pro‑pri‑e‑tar‑y!” you echoed, stabbing a finger at her. “He means off-limits, you thieving furball!”

Black Cat rolled her shoulders, utterly unbothered. “I’ll return them. Hm… rented at a fair rate, of course. Maybe half a million an ounce?”

Damian growled low in his throat. “You—I'll—”

“Okay, okay, enough. Look. I’ll put them back before breakfast tomorrow, deal?” Black Cat offered, waggling her fingers like this was a brunch invitation and not felony-level theft.

You opened your mouth to protest because you absolutely did not agree to that, but it was too late. With a mock curtsy and a wicked glint in her eye, she vanished into the shadows, her laughter echoing like a warning shot.

You turned back to Damian, who stood tense, blade still in hand, every muscle in his jaw working overtime.

“I should have let her fall off the building,” he muttered.

You snorted. “You would never.”

“I could have accidentally loosened her grip.” He sheathed his sword with more force than necessary. “No one touches you like that. No one pins you but me.”

Your brows shot up. “So you do want to pin me—”

“Strategically,” he snapped.

“Strategically?" you purred, arms wrapping round his shoulders. "That’s what we’re calling rooftop makeouts now?”

“I—Tt—focus.” But Damian's hands settled at your waist anyway, traitorously warm. “We need to debrief. Secure the scene. Call in the GCPD. Recheck the vault—”

“Oh, Dames…”

જ⁀➴ CASSANDRA CAIN

You were no better than a man.

You were definitely not supposed to be staring. Or, at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you tried to focus on the workout in front of you. But there was no way you could ignore Cassandra right now.

She was… perfect.

Her form was flawless as she moved through her calisthenics routine. Push-ups, pull-ups, even backflips! Nothing seemed to faze her. And here you were, struggling not to turn into a puddle of goo on the gym floor.

It wasn’t fair, honestly. How was one person allowed to be so hot? You were supposed to be stretching, but instead, you were completely fixated on your girlfriend, who was now hanging effortlessly from the pull-up bar.

She wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, you were sitting here pretending to stretch, but your eyes couldn’t stop following her every move. How could you not? She was making calisthenics look like some kind of sexy ballet, and you were feeling some type of way about it.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you barely heard the guy who suddenly sidled up to you. You looked up, confused, to see him standing a little too close.

"Hey, uh…" He cleared his throat, clearly trying to sound casual. "I noticed you were watching your friend there… I could totally show you how to lift weights, you know. Maybe even you."

You blinked at him, trying to suppress a laugh. Your brain was still stuck on your friend? Was that supposed to be his pick-up line?

“Uh… really?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you glanced back at Cassandra, still breezing through her workout like she was in some kind of fitness commercial. You could barely keep your mouth from hanging open.

"Yeah!" He puffed out his chest like he was some kind of Greek god. "I can handle lifting your body weight, no problem."

You blinked again. "Oh??"

"Yeah," he said with a cocky grin. "I can totally do it."

You crossed your arms, trying not to burst into laughter. “Okay, then. Show me.”

The guy dropped to his knees in front of you and looked up, ready to lift you. You tried to brace yourself, but honestly, you weren’t sure what was going to happen. This was either going to be impressive or a disaster, and you were pretty sure it was going to be the latter.

He grunted. Nothing.

You raised an eyebrow, watching as he struggled. His face was turning red, sweat starting to drip from his forehead, and—yeah, this was as bad as you expected. He couldn’t even get you an inch off the floor.

“Need help with that?” you asked, barely able to hold back the giggle bubbling up.

“No—no, I’ve got it!” he snapped, lifting harder, but the effort only made him wobble like a newborn giraffe.

"Maybe next time, huh?" you said with a sigh, holding back your amusement.

Then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Cassandra appeared. You didn’t even see her coming. One second, the guy was still struggling with the whole “lifting you” thing, and the next, Cassandra was casually stepping between the two of you. She looked at him like he was a bug she couldn’t be bothered with, then lifted you effortlessly with one hand.

You froze.

One hand.

The guy’s face drained of color as Cassandra set you down like you were a stuffed animal she was tossing back on the shelf. She didn’t even glance at him as she flicked her hair back, returning to her workout like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, the guy? He was just standing there. Shocked. Maybe a little bit scared. His mouth was moving, but no words came out.

Could not have imagined a more embarrassing moment for him…

Turning to Cassandra, your grin only widened. “Baby… you just broke his soul.”

Cassandra didn’t even glance your way. She simply raised an eyebrow, then shot you a small smile as she signed, He should have known better.

As you were about to respond, the guy finally seemed to snap out of his daze. He stammered something about ‘his form’ and ‘next time’ before practically sprinting off, likely rethinking every choice he’d made that led him to this moment.

You chuckled under your breath, eyes flicking back to Cassandra. “Well, looks like you just ruined his chances of ever lifting a girl again.”

Cassandra shrugged, clearly unfazed, and went back to her pull-up bar. Not my problem.

As she started packing her things, she shot you a sly smirk. Let’s go home. I’ll give you a workout of your own.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. “That… sounds promising.”

And just like that, the gym, the only thing on your mind now was what your workout would look like tonight.

Goopyness... This was very fun to write!

My requests are open! Please...Uwu

#batfamily x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #redhood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain x reader #batfamily #batman

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vinamari · 11 months ago

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How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

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petalbcrnes · 42 minutes ago

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꣑ৎ COMFORT BICEP PROTOCOL ╱ #sendbicep w/ the BAT-BOYS via text ꩜ smau .ᐟ ⠀⠀ ────⠀⠀⠀ est. relationship. suggestive.

‧˚꒰ৎ୭ 🗒️: do not ask me how long this took. something as simple as a #sendbicep smau should not be this complicated. i put so much effort in finding suitable pictures !!! send help.

‧₊˚🖇️✩ : masterlist; more bat-boys smau posts.

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pearlfull · 9 days ago

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party on u ( part of u knew )

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS: 〝 You know that I've been waiting for you. 〞 Batboys x Reader. ⋆˚࿔ A/N: Heavily inspired by Charli XCX and the devastating edits to this song lol. Dick's is the most literal interpretation of the song. Jason's weird. I love Tim Drake. Yearning bro. I'm taking requests + commissions! More details on that soon. Help a college girl save for car repairs<3

ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON.

IT WAS SOMETHING UNSPOKEN YET PRESENT. You weren’t just friends. But you didn't call it love either.

It started with shared takeout food.

Shaky laughter while pinning you on the ground during training. Late night text messages. Sleepless nights spent on the same couch. Dick's hand laced yours in the dark, and he tried to match your breath's rhythm as you fell asleep on his chest, fingers curling into your sleep shirt.

Eventually, there were white tulips he brought after work and Bruce was asking about you.

He was always careful with you.

Because he'd done the song and routine before. Been left with the kind of bruises in places you couldn't see.

There were nights when he'd leave before you woke. He'd left you coffee on your nightstand like it was a consolation prize. And you let him. Let him stay his welcome way too long, and then let him disappear for a couple days. Maybe it was stupid, but it was better than nothing.

wonderboy i didn’t want to miss you tonight i already do when you’re still in the room

You hadn't seen him in weeks. Not out of anger, not resentment. Still. It was on purpose. On both ends.

You'd stop asking if he wanted you to pick up candy for him at the grocery store and he had stopped asking when he could see you again. Maybe he had thought if he pulled away it would go away.

The invitation felt like a test. An unspoken, come if you still care. Or come so I know you haven't stopped.

It's his birthday, and silver balloons litter the hallway, and Donna laughter is already ringing through as you step in, and Roy's throwing gummy bears into Wally's glass.

You're wearing something that made you feel braver than you were, black fabric clinging to your hips--looking through the crowd with a tight chest.

His grin was the center of the room. His bright blue eyes found yours, and he didn't come over. His pupils were blown.

Kept staring, almost comically. Wondering if whether he still had the right to do that, even though he'd invited you. And you came. And he had worn that cologne you'd mentioned you'd loved, and even had tried to make his hair fall nicely. He kind of felt like a thirteen year old boy getting ready for his first Sadie Hawkins dance. It was wracking to feel like that again.

But maybe he was remembering just how much he'd hurt you by staying so close and never choosing.

You crossed the room slowly. Talked to Donna, and let Roy grab you a drink.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Dick's balcony's always been cold. Maybe he'd overstepped by draping his jacket over your pretty shoulders.

(But neither of you cared, and the lining was so nice!)

“I didn’t think you’d ask.” Your voice doesn't come out quiet, and you're surprised by its steadiness.

Dick looked down at his shoes. “I didn’t know if I deserved to.”

Your smile was glossy, close lipped. “You don’t get to disappear and then expect me to ask you to show up. It's mean.”

“I know.” A beat. “Uh, when I was halfway, I could pretend I wasn’t scared.”

“Were you?”

“Terrified.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I know that seems like such a shitty cop out. The whole, commitment phobe thing. But I still wanted you to come tonight.” Dick stopped. Cracked his knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

“I don't believe in love that waits.”

Dick's brows are knit closely. “I know.”

“I'm not gonna be waiting.”

“I don’t want you to. I'll meet you where you are. Sorry I didn’t sooner.”

His breath clouds in the air. His voice cracks as he adds, “I get why you stopped asking.”

“Didn’t want to keep asking for something that wasn't fully ours.”

“That’s on me.”

“You were scared?”

“Still kinda am.”

He shifts beside you, steps closer. Adjusts his jacket, so the collar doesn't look rumpled. Dick's fingers brush the side of your throat.

Inside, he doesn't reach for your hand. Just walks close. As close as you'll let him. Close enough that it’s obvious.

You walk back to your car. Your phone lights up.

wonderboy thanks for coming beautiful you didn’t have to

you don’t thank me happy birthday 💙

ᯓ★ JASON TODD.

JASON IS ALWAYS AROUND. Your brother's second shadow. Not because they're attached at the hip. Roy is one of the few people that lets him stand beside him without flinching.

Initially, he barely acknowledges you.

He'll grunt a greeting when you grab a glass of juice, nods from across the kitchen. He always leaves his bike helmet on the counter tile like it's a centerpiece. It smells like gunpowder and iron, and you definitely think it says way more than he ever does with his mouth. Gun oil. Boots on the carpet. Pride and Prejudice folded in his back pocket.

You were studying journalism at university. Doing some stories. Freelance. An open notebook tucked under your arm. You asked questions too fast sometimes--half Harper nature--about everything, about nothing.

And Jason didn’t like it. Said so.

“Why do you talk to people like you’re digging for something?”

“Cause people lie.”

He didn’t say anything after that.

It was Roy’s fault! He left his phone out on the sofa. You didn’t care to look, but the cracked screen had some picture of you and Roy. Jason sent it.

jaybird when was this is she dating someone?

roy tf do you care lmao don’t be fucking weird

jaybird just asking.

roy that’s my sister.

jaybird shut up.

You noticed him staring more after that.

One time at breakfast, you spilled coffee on the edge of your sweater sleeve, cursing under your breath. You didn’t think he was even awake. Jason was slumped at the table over a bowl of cereal. His hoodie pulled up like he hadn’t slept at all. He passed you a paper towel before you even asked. Didn’t even look at you.

Later, your old press badge was pressed against the counter. It was lost for weeks. Bent but clean.

“You found this?” you turned to Roy, eyes glittering.

Roy rubbed his mouth. “Huh?”

Jason starts asking you things. Small things.

“Where’d that article of yours go? The vigilante case?”

“Sleep last night?”

He asked them like it didn't matter, like he didn't already know the answers. His fingers drummed while waiting for your replies, and he seems to drink in every single thing you say.

An interview that went south. A CEO with yellowed teeth called you doll. You bit your tongue till it stung.

Jason's in the garage, with a wrench.

“[Name], you okay?”

“I'm fine, Jay.”

“Don't lie.”

You set your leather bag on the hood of your car.

The wrench drops. “Wanna go hit something?”

You blinked. Slowly. "Sorry?”

“Gym. Pads. Gloves. I'll hold them for you.”

A smile stretches and he swears he feels like he's being lit from the inside. The way it's just for him. “Is that your version of like, a hug?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Roy didn’t pick up tonight. After a date that made your head ache, where the guy with a cheap haircut only spoke about himself, forgot his wallet, you stood outside alone. Cold.

Jason showed up instead.

His hoodie half-zipped, breath fogging in the air, from jogging, car parked across the street, his white streak a little matted. Green eyes scanned your face, and he grabbed the heels dangling from your fingers.

Your purse slipped off your shoulder, and Jason took it mid slide too.

He held both all the way home in his lap as he drove.

You let him walk you to your building, and the air had seemed to have hit you harder this time. Jason still had your bag and heels, and the space between you seemed to buzz.

The stairwell was bright, and the front light hummed over your head. Your throat was tight as you croaked out a "Thank you", softly and every word you wanted to say seemed to taunt you as you realize you rather liked his green eyes, and the golden rings inside them.

He seemed to notice your observation, and his eyes fell to the floor, the corners of his lips lifting so slightly. So, you let your hand fall between you, barely. So his could brush against it. Fingertips, then your pinky hooked his.

He turned his hand, observing the way they fit. Held it tighter, tighter than you expected.

ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE.

YOU'VE ALWAYS LIKED QUIET. Which is a good thing, because you have little else but that in a gas station working a graveyard shift. It's mostly peaceful. As peaceful Gotham can get. Little customers. No noise. Just you, and the fluorescents and the freezer that groans when it turns on.

Sometimes, you leave the counter to stand under the overhang light.

You see him for the first time at 3:24 AM.

The red and black suit. The insignia. A cowl that didn't cover his lips. Red Robin.

He doesn’t say anything. Just lands on the roof like he belongs there. Kinda freakish.

He was gone before you could look again.

The second time he shows up, he taps on the bulletproof glass with a gloved knuckle and gestures to the vending machine near the left of the entrance.

"It ate my dollar," he says.

You blink. "For real?"

"Swear on the mask."

Pretty big swear. So, you open the door. He's taller than you thought he would be. And younger. Same age, or around from what you can make of him.

You slide an energy drink and a bag of chips across the counter. "Next time you save the city bird boy, ask for some change."

He laughs. And you hate how much you like the way his lips curve.

He comes back after that. Not every single night. Although, that'd be fun. But it wasn't enough for you to expect him.

He never buys anything from you. He leans against the counter and asks how your shift was, and you hand him a bottled water and piece of bubblegum. He asks about the books you read behind the register.

"Jane Eyre?" he'd asked with a raised brow. "Sort of a dramatic choice for a Tuesday."

"Says the guy in a bird costume."

He laughed again. Now you hated how familiar it sounded.

But you didn't think much of it. Not until the week Tim stops coming to class.

He was in your study group. Quiet. He had the most gorgeous smile you think you'd seen. All toothy and boyish, despite the dark circles shadowing underneath his eyes.

You liked him more than you meant to. Still do. You swore not to, because there was something about him that seemed like if you reached out, he'd disappear like smoke. And it was getting ridiculous. You'd worn a skirt to class and curled your hair and hoped he'd notice. Forming a crush on someone because he had asked you how your day was and always helped look for your pen underneath your seat during lecture. But he was always noticing things. Listening to you, and he said your name like it was a secret that you both shared.

When he misses study group, then class, then that dumb open mic night you invited him to, you tell yourself it's nothing.

But then Red Robin shows up that same night, again.

He's chipper. "Long night?"

You let the silence stretch, doodling on some scratch paper.

He tilts his head, rocking on his heels. "Have a bad shift?"

"No," you say slowly, "Just kinda missing someone."

The mask twitches. You don't notice.

He starts coming around regularly.

You talk. About stupid shit, important stuff. Your morals. His commentary on the mayor.

You mention how sometimes you wish had a different life. How you want to graduate university already.

He's quiet as he nods, locking eyes with you.

Then he says, “I think you’re doing way better than you think.”

That's not fair to you. Because that sounds like something Tim would tell you over text casually. It makes your stomach twist and you wonder if you're falling in love with a mask, a voice, because he reminds you of someone else.

And he doesn’t even know that.

Tim knows.

He talks to you at night with a different voice, he holds himself differently and pretends that he’s not the same guy who used to try to make jokes clumsily to make you laugh. He loves your laugh.

He watches you watch him and says nothing.

If he tells you, it’ll ruin the quiet connection you’ve built. The thing he keeps crawling back to when the city’s too heavy.

#dc #dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #batboys #batman x reader

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witherby · 3 months ago

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Chef hear me out

scientist! Tim x hidden experiment!reader (Like they were once in a lab where they got experimented on and then it shut down and somehow boom theyre in tim's care and it goes on from there)

-🕯

I'm hearing you out candle

Like all good love stories I think this one starts in the field. There's a breakout in Blackgate and most of the bats are dealing with that, but Tim is in charge of catching stragglers that manage to slip into the city proper.

He comes across you, someone stumbling along the streets and clutching your head like you've been wounded. When Tim approaches you to grant aid, he sees that you're in a hospital gown and there's a busted cuff on your ankle. An escapee from Arkham, perhaps? He needs more information, so he takes you aside to do an assessment.

But you didn't come from Arkham. The cuff on your ankle has a symbol on it that ties you to mister Freeze, and upon closer inspection, you're quite cold to the touch and your veins are more visible than they should be. Something is wrong with you, and Tim's gotta find out what.

#el speaks #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #escaped experiment au #🕯️

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ramzuni6 · 8 hours ago

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TIM DRAKE who can't help but film you: bringing his obnoxiously large camera wherever the pair of you go, SD cards dangling off of a keyring, replacing the keys that should be there instead. Whether it be candid shots or perfectly orchestrated photos, the background of a family photo or a little snapshot of just the two of you, he keeps you immortalised within his long strips of film. He keeps every shot of you, even if it turns out to be a blurry snap that distorts your feature into the dodgy lighting of the street-lamp, or a photo worthy of blackmail - he says that it'd be sinful to get rid of anything you've left your mark on.

༊*·˚ i'm mildly whipped </3

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷#*ೃ༄ derived from raman .ೃ࿐#Tim Drake #Tim Drake x Reader #Red Robin x Reader #Tim Drake x Y/N

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viktateapot · 6 days ago

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KISSES 💋 (Batboys)

Dick Grayson:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason Todd:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim Drake:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damian Wayne:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is everything okay, my gold?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You said it, you know."

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

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

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

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

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

HERE'S A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR YOU, MY DEARS

Conner Kent:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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