#dc Fic

[gay-dorito-dust]

Batboys and reader doing the hear me out cake trend and reader pulls out a picture of Bruce when he was in his prime.

Apologies anon but this trend…Do not get me started on how misconstrued the phrase ‘hear me out’ is. I’ll rant about how a lot of ppl should look up the definition first. I’m very passionate about how butchered the trend is that every time I see one I can’t help but think ‘not a hear me out, try again or don’t to save my small remnants of sanity.’ I hate it so much.

Dick

Pouts.

‘My dad? Really?’ He’d ask you.

‘Yeah, what can I say he was a total hunk.’ You shrugged.

‘Was?!’ Dick replied, looking at you as though you had grown a second head. ‘What is he now then chopped liver? Do you not like older men?! Do they loose their charm the moment they have a few grey hairs and lines on their face?!’ He exclaims.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when doing this challenge because now you were being grilled by dick on whether you’ll still feel attractive to him when he himself gets old and grey.

‘I don’t have anything against older men dick, I just find your dad hot in this specific picture.’ You defended yourself and dick only puts his hands on your shoulders and gives them a firm squeeze as he presses his forehead against yours.

‘Sweetheart I don’t think you understand because what do you mean you find him hotter in the picture?! It’s Bruce the man is just naturally photogenic!’ Dick tells you. ‘You could’ve chosen a recent picture of Bruce and say the exact same thing.’

‘Eh, it’s not the same thing.’ You say and dick felt as though he might as well rip his hair from his head because what do you mean it’s not the same thing?! He was now more certain that you didn’t like older men if Bruce was only appealing to you in his youth, his supposed prime.

Needless to say the conversation diverted from the fact that you found his dad hot, to one where dick was trying to prove to himself that you just didn’t like older men/ silver foxes for whatever absurd reason.

Jason

He’s oddly silent.

You feared you did something the moment you pulled the picture of young Bruce Wayne out to put on the cake.

The wait was over the moment he did decide to say something but it was nothing like you’d expect to come out of his mouth;

‘Out of all the pictures there are of Bruce, that’s the one you picked? Nothing about that picture is flattering to him in any way whatsoever.’

‘Oh you’re just jealous.’ You’d tell him and Jason only raises his brow at you.

‘Jealous, babe have you seen me? What’s there to be jealous of that old bat.’ Jason replies as he gestures towards himself before pinching your cheeks. ‘I just think it’s adorable how you consider Bruce in his prime as a hear me out, it’s laughable really but you do you chipmunk.’ He adds.

However when you weren’t looking, he’d take the picture of Bruce from the cake and throw it over his shoulder, for there was no way in hell he was going to have a picture of Bruce on a cake. No sir, Jason would much rather die again than allow his own father to overstay his welcome on the damn cake.

He’d even act innocent when you would ask where the picture went as though he didn’t set it on fire with a lighter after plucking it off the cake. ‘It must’ve grew legs and walked off.’ He’d shrug but it wasn’t hard to know the truth.

His dad can fuck off away from the cake and you.

Damian

Another one who’s not so amused by the fact that you added his father on a ‘hear me out’ cake.

He doesn’t partake in such stupid trends that’ll sooner or later long forgotten by the public consciousness in favour of a new trend that’ll run itself to the ground just as quickly as the last. He questions the publics attention span if it was this short and unreliable, he really does and fears that the age of stupidity has begun with people who think a conventional attractive man with a Roman nose or any other unique feature is a ‘hear me out.’

As if they were any less attractive than a man with a plain featured, and rather unappealing and basic appearance. They’re weren’t, if anything people with romantic noses or any other unique features were just as attractive as the plained featured ones, and Damian found it rather ridiculous that is what is being considered a secrete that many think they’ll be judged for finding appealing.

‘My father? Really?’ He’d say as he looked between you and the picture of his father.

‘Yeah.’ You shrugged.

Damian only sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. ‘A conventionally attractive man is you hear me out?’

‘Not just any conventionally attractive man-‘ you tried to explain but Damian didn’t allow you the space to do so.

‘My father in his prime doesn’t count, you should really do better research before putting random people on a cake, or better yet don’t partake in a challenge you don’t understand.’ Was all Damian said before he leaves the room, he’s not impressed and feared that there was too many people who for some stupid reason also though his father in his prime is a ‘hear me out.’

It freaks him out and disappoints him greatly of what the future of Gotham and humanity as a whole would look like if these people were to be at the helm.

Tim

Not amused.

He’s sick and tired of people putting conventional attractive people and anthropomorphic animals who are drawn in a specific way to elicit such emotions out of people.

So to see that you had put his father, more specifically Bruce in his first steps as the dark knight, he couldn’t help but look at you disappointedly.

One, you obviously didn’t understand the concept of a hear me out and Tim is more then ready to educate you on what one is with his long ass PowerPoint presentation. And two, really? His dad? What was wrong with his dad in his current old age? Did you have something against older men?

Wait- why was he so suddenly concerned whether or not you find his father less appealing now than how he looked in his prime? He should be more focused on the fact that you found such pristine picture of Bruce during that time, he’s tried multiple times but the resolution was god awful and didn’t do anything to flatter Bruce.

You’re still getting lectured on what a proper hear me out is though. Tim’s got fucking tons.

[axstoria]

Kissing Dick Grayson after a late-night patrol, his hands planted on your face as yours pause their tending to his wounds. He's still in uniform, mask and all, yet the top half has been peeled away to reveal a nasty gash on his side that Bruce would lecture him for had he still been in his Robin days.

Kissing Dick Grayson in front of his family for the first time. Damian is glaring daggers, while Cass and Steph are giggling like school girls, and Tim simply marks down the relationship in his mental notebook.

Kissing Dick Grayson to calm him down after he took down a trafficking ring in Blüdhaven. He's angry and hates the world, yet he feels as though he holds it all in his hands as he caresses your cheeks.

Kissing Dick Grayson after a nightmare to soothe his pains. His hands are twisted in your shirt and he's shaking, but it's okay because you're there.

Kissing Dick Grayson until the both of you are sick and grinning like idiots, happy to be together after days of being apart because of a mission.

Kissing Dick Grayson just because.

Kissing Dick Grayson because you love him.

Kissing Dick Grayson.

[indulgentdaydream]

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE

what about a tired and very touch-starved jason wakes up at like 2pm and fem!reader is out of bed??? and he comes and finds them and throws them over his shoulder and brings them back to bed???? because why would you leave jaybean by himself????? unnacceptable???

THIS IS SO ADORABLE WHAT

And the idea of people waiting for my requests to be open is so weird like… what do you mean you wanna read my writings and hear my thoughts??? Y’all make me smile so much I swear

Side note: I’m so sorry this is a month late. And then also another day late than I said I would post.

Side side note: if y’all saw me post this without the photo header…. No you didn’t

M.I.A

Jason Todd x gn!Reader || Domestic Fluff || Word Count: 758

Warnings: not completely proofread. Gun mention.

Jason’s pulled himself out of a bad dream. Not quite a nightmare, though something eerily close.

It was one of those rare nights that he had off of patrol. One he where the two of you got to eat dinner together, watch some TV, get ready for bed, then fall asleep in your shared bed. He enjoyed the chances when he got them.

He laid on his stomach under the comfortably heavy duvet. His left arm was bent beneath his pillow, his hand grazing the hidden .44 he had convinced you to let him keep there, the other arm laying in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, clinging to his last tendrils of sleep.

All he needed was you back in his arms and his dreams would turn good again, filled with the smell of your soap and hints of faded perfume.

Slowly, he stretches his right arm out across the sheets, sleepily searching for your form. It drags along the sheets, his entire body only half-asleep.

He’s aware that there’s this… itch in his skin. Not a physical itch. An itch that can only be satisfied by having your arms around him again.

Jason Todd doesn’t count sheep. He counts your heart beats or your breathing. Sometimes both.

He must be laying further to the edge of his side of the bed than he thought. Usually, he doesn’t have to reach this far to get to you when you two drift apart in your sleep.

His hand grazes the wall. His eyes shoot open.

You aren’t in bed.

He pushes himself up with his elbows. A tired, confused, and slightly panicked frown settled on his face, his hair mussed up and flat on one side of his head.

The bedroom window is closed. The door is cracked open.

Then he notices the sound of the tap running in the kitchen.

Jason gets up and out of bed, moving languidly. He pads his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

His eyes squint at the light you had turned on as he stands in the doorway. All foggy panic he felt before faded away at the sight of you, filling a glass with water, standing in one of his shirts.

He shuffles his feet. A purposeful noise that he wouldn’t otherwise make as he went about his day, one to get your attention.

You turn around, your glass of water in your hand. You take notice of your boyfriend’s large stature filling the entryway, a sleepy pout on his lips. You give him a smile. He can tell you're trying not to laugh at his fatigued state.

“Want a glass, too?”

Jason shakes his head. He makes his way across the kitchen, his brows still furrowed against the light.

He just wants you back in bed with him.

He reaches for your glass after you sip from it. You hand it to him. Jason takes the cold glass in his right hand, bends down a little, and wraps his left arm tight around the bottom of your bum. He stands back up, now with you draped over his shoulder.

You squeal out a fit of laughter, "Jay!"

He flicks off the light as he exits the kitchen, makes his way back into the hall, then kicks the door to your bedroom shut as he carries you in.

Gently, he sets you back down on the edge of the bed. Once you're properly seated, he hands your water back for you to finish. Seeing your bright smile makes his own lips tug into a small one.

Jason rakes his hands through his hair as you drink. He rubs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes from a moment, trying to shake a bit of the sleep still clinging to him.

You hand him back the nearly finished glass of water. He watches you shuffled back under the covers, moving over to the wall-side. Your side. He finishes off the last two gulps of your water and sets the glass on the night stand.

He follows you under the covers, immediately pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your cheek and drops his head into the crook of your neck, an arm draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. He kisses your shoulder and gently squeezes your waist once.

Your arms settle around him, "If you wanted cuddles you could’ve just asked, you know."

Jason only grumbles an incoherent response. He shuffles and presses closer to you, holding you tight.

You kiss his forehead and Jason starts to count.

Ahh!! I hope you like! This is lowkey rushed.

Also you can catch my personal headcanon of how Jason WILL keep his bed, with or without you in it, as far away from the window and door as possible. And you best believe that when you two share, you're getting the wall side so he can act as a barrier for any possible danger that may come in.

[girlkisser13]

being married to bruce wayne would include

• galas, charities, balls, etc. become more a part of your life than you probably ever wanted them to be.

• once you two officially become a couple, you become gotham’s "it" couple. whether you want to or not.

• in the press, the two of you are often depicted as gotham royalty.

• even before the two of you start dating, you swear you feel someone's presence at night whenever you walk home from work.

• it wasn't until a mugger attempted to steal your purse that you finally learned where that feeling of being watched had been coming from.

• when the dark knight told you to be mindful of your surroundings and to hurry home before swooping away into the night, you could only nod with widened eyes.

• you didn’t say anything until you got home, to be honest, you geeking out: it’s not every day that someone gets to meet "the batman".

• you gleefully call your boyfriend about it. he doesn’t answer it until later, but you can hear a smirk in his voice as he responds to you fangirling.

• eventually, you find out about his identity on accident.

• as expected, you’re a little upset. someone you were romantically involved with was masquerading around town dressed like every night was halloween, getting into dangerous situations.

• after the two of you talk about it, you begin to understand why he does it and while you may not necessarily agree with some of his more controversial methods, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride that he’s putting everything at risk just to make sure what happened to him doesn’t happen to anyone else.

• alfred always reports to you first whenever something happens to bruce, knowing how much he truly means to you.

• you’re the one he listens to the most (even more than alfred) when it comes to what he should be doing whether it be a complicated mission or something as simple as eating a much needed meal.

• most of the time you would find yourself waiting at a restaurant for an hour before he would text you that he can’t make it because he’s being held up.

• when he does show up, he’s late, he looks like a mess, and he greets you with a lop-sided smile and half-lidded eyes. and you melt because you remember that he did choose you and you do love him.

• bruce’s absence is always outweighed by his affection. he loves touching you even if it’s just your shoulders or your fingers or your elbows. he always finds a way to be close to you when you’re together.

• he’s always trying to make up for the lost time with you by getting you expensive gifts and trips, only for you to reassure him that he doesn’t need to do all this.

• you’re always able to tell when he’s had a particularly rough night. his usual silence feels different; heavier.

• he becomes a lot more handsy with you, more affectionate. as if you’re the last flower in a prized garden and he never noticed until now.

• if you’re asleep by the time he gets back, you may get woken up by him caressing your cheek, rubbing a thumb over your hand, or him putting his big arms around you to pull you in close.

• one of your favorite things though is definitely seeing the family. most of the time you see alfred and always try to tease recipes out of him which expertly deflects.

• whenever the bat kids are at the manor, he invites you because they love you and he knows you love them too.

• dick constantly flirts with you and teases you and bruce. you love to play along with him because it makes bruce very uncomfortable.

• he finally proposes to you after three years of the kids telling him to do so. you obviously say yes.

• the two of you decide to have a small, private ceremony at the manor. friends and family only.

• bruce 100% cries as soon as he sees you walk down the aisle in your wedding dress.

• alfred volunteers to be the wedding planner, because he always knew that you would be the future mrs. wayne. <33

[meiluu]

Bats

Here's some thoughts about Bruce Wayne, my husband btw

cw: Major fluff

Just imagine being the wife of Bruce Wayne. Not the playboy, or the billionaire, not the philanthropist, but Bruce Wayne. A man who had to grow up at the young age of eight, and later on becoming a young man who spent his time traveling the world. Learning all he could, fighting, languages, anything. A man who sacrifices everything for the ones he loves, hoping that he can protect them from the world that seems hellbent on taking away all the people he holds dear.

Bruce is a man of few words, but each word that leaves those beautiful lips of his has a purpose. Those quiet moments when its just the two of you, cuddled in one of the plush couches in the Wayne manor library. The moonlight flittering in from the tall windows, the crackling of the lit fireplace is the only other noise that accompanies your whispered words of love. Wrapped in his protective embrace, a body that spends nearly every night defending and protecting the innocents of Gotham is here hugging you and gently massaging your back.

You bring a level of solace that Bruce didn't think he would ever have. Given how he accepted the fact that being Batman meant that he could never really have that. Then you came in. It wasn't some massive firework show or falling from the sky. You just... walked in like you were meant to be here all along. The patience, understanding and unwavering love you showed him time and time again had Bruce wondering where you had been all this time. You were so...You.

Bruce is the husband and lover who lets you kiss his countless amount of scars that litter his body that has been sculpted to fight and endure anything that comes its way. A body that held strength in every fiber of muscle and yet he turns to putty within your loving hands. Mind, body and soul, wholly yours.

Bruce had no idea of what he was missing when you weren't in his life and now that he has you, there is nothing on this planet or universe that would ever take you from him.

Bruce is someone who will die for You, and any one of the people he loves.

[kenobers]

what would a bat do | jason todd blurb

or jason finds you crying and decides to shoot first and ask questions later. gn!reader a/n: could be read as romantic or platonic

Jason is a lot like Bruce. He does not see this as a positive.

To be fair, "You're acting like Bruce" is the verbal equivalent of hitting below the belt for him and his siblings. Being compared to your parent is a devastating below in any sibling argument, but with their...respectively unique relationships with Bruce, it's downright lethal. Especially for Jason, who still hasn't found complete security with their father.

So, Jason only compares himself to Bruce with blinders on. He does it every time he snaps at someone just to get them off his case. He cringes every time he decides to go off the grid and shut everyone out instead of confronting his feelings. "You're acting like Bruce" echoes in his head as he draws a mental Venn diagram and desperately fills the opposing sides.

The worst is when he catches his reflection glowering back at him; if he had a nickel for every time he mistook it for Bruce sneaking up on him…

He only sees his father in himself when he's angry. When he's so blinded by the nauseating need for vengeance that the line between Hood and Bat start to blur. When all he can see is the mission. When he realizes just how much he’s chosen to isolate himself.

One of the reasons he hides as much of his face as possible is because then no one can tell him he looks just like a bat when he bares his teeth. He wears his emotions on his sleeve instead of leaving it to anyone's guess. He makes absolutely sure that there's no mistaking him for Batman.

All of this to mixed results, of course.

Because despite all of his valid issues with Bruce, deep down Jason knows that Bruce Wayne is still a good man.

And although he doesn’t quite realize it, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to admit that Bruce Wayne raised Jason Todd to be a good man.

Bruce is why Jason always holds the door open for the person behind him. Every time Jason buys a coffee, he pays for the next handful of customers, something he consistently watched Bruce do. Whenever a child talks to him, Jason always crouches to their eye level…that’s Bruce too.

That’s not to give Mr. Wayne too much credit. Jason Todd has had a good heart from the moment he was born. He never needed anyone to tell him to leave the world a better place than he found it. Just because he has an anomalous method of doing so doesn’t make that any less true.

But there are certain things, instincts, that Bruce cemented in his mind. Like knowing when to ask questions first and when to ask them later.

Like when he finds you crying just now.

He’d sent you a text earlier in the day. Something completely unrelated to your well being, something incredibly unimportant actually. Still, your lack of response made him anxious, so he went to check on you. Just to make sure you weren't, like, dead or something.

There's a split second of awkward silence as you both stare at one another. But you hardly have time to wipe your tears and blubber out, "Oh, hey, what's up," before Jason's engulfing you in a bear hug.

That's when you know you don't need to hold it together. That's when you know it's safe to completely fall apart.

Jason doesn't need to ask questions just yet. You don't need him asking questions. You both know he'll get answers, whether from you or his own investigation. For now he'll stay quiet, sans a few whispered comforts. He could try being a man of many words. He’s more than capable of waxing poetics. It’s just that he knows he can come across as mean and abrasive, even when he’s trying to be kind and soft.

Another way he’s like Bruce.

Nevertheless, he’s got two big strong arms that can speak for him. They’ve got you. They’ll protect you from whatever’s got you feeling like this.

One large hand anchors you to him. It holds you steady as your body shakes with sobs. The other cradles your head, every so often moving to pat your back whenever you hiccup.

You can hide your face in his chest. Ride along with the subtle rise and fall of it. Let the gentle sound of his heart beat drown out the sound of your stressors. He doesn’t care about the damp spot you’re leaving on his shirt. He just cares about you.

Jason is a rock, an absolute pillar of a human being. He can stand there for as long as you need. He can support your weight and hold you up if you’re too exhausted to do it yourself.

When you decide that you want to talk about it, then he tries to be all ears. He sits you on the couch and wraps an arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. Occasionally, his thumb drifts up to wipe your stray tears away.

He listens as best he can. He definitely would've dealt with your issue differently if he were you. In a different era, he would've let you know exactly what he would do - more likely, he would've just gone and done it for you. But he can recognize that this is probably a healthier way to deal with whatever upset you. And you know what, he can respect that too.

After you've vented until there's nothing left to say, Jason stays with you. It's that nagging voice that tells him that he has to make sure you're really okay, that you're not about to do something stupid as soon as he takes his eyes off you. After all, that's what he would do.

So he puts something on the tv. A show, a movie, a YouTube compilation, video essay - something he knows you like. He doesn't look away from you the entire time. He sits at the ready to catch any stray tears or soothe any sudden bursts of rage.

Until you fall asleep on his shoulder. He sits like that for another few minutes before he finally transfers you to your bed, tucking you in with so much care. The only sound he makes is a sharp gasp when he catches his reflection in your window.

Then he sits some more, still watching you closely. He watches until he's certain you're sound asleep, ignorant to the things that hurt you.

Then he slips out the window without a peep, off to get your justice.

That's exactly what Bruce would do.

[dark-dragon-8]

I want to see a fic where Tim and some other Batfamily member do the whole "I don't feel so good" "Maybe you're pregnant" meme, but the Batfamily doesn't know he's trans. So what happens is, he's actually panicking, thinking he may have forgotten to take his pills before sex and noting how he didn't get his period in a while (as a girl, I can confidently say that my period always feels like it's coming late or not coming at all, IDK you just forget when you're supposed to get it if you're not too attentive to it).

Que the Batkid that told him that (let's say it was Jason) laughing his ass off because Tim is actually worried about this, he's a man, he can't get pregnant yet for some reason he's getting worried.

Fast forward a week later, on the next family dinner, when Tim announces his pregnancy (the results came back positive) and lets the family know he was AFAB both at the same time. They're all speechless, not knowing if they should be worried, excited or just accepting & happy for him (which they were going to be anyway).

Bonus: In the background, Jason is blue screening because, he was right?!? And does that mean Tim would've kept on going on patrol and live life as normal if he hadn't said anything?! God, this kid, he's going to be the death of them all.

[I might actually write it, honestly, I just need to find the time, but I also want to read this from someone else's perspective on the story, so feel free to use this and please 🙏 do recommend some fic recs if you know/have any]

[your-local-simp-writers]

Puppy Love

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: None

Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader ︶��꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It was a typical day after school, one of those rare moments when Damian Wayne wasn’t caught up in some sort of mission or training. The clock ticked loudly in the classroom as you stared at your class partner. Damian was sitting at his desk, meticulously packing up his things, his movements precise, as always. He had a habit of folding his papers just so, making sure everything was in perfect order before leaving. It was almost funny how much effort he put into something so mundane.

You tapped your pen on the desk, your mind bouncing with energy, as it always did. You had an idea, a crazy, spontaneous idea. The kind of idea you always had, but this time, you had to share it with him.

"Damian," you said brightly, leaning across the desk just enough to catch his attention. He glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if preparing himself for whatever your next move was. You grinned, already knowing what he was thinking. “Do you want to go to the fair?”

His brow furrowed. “The fair?” he repeated, clearly skeptical. “I’m not sure how that could be beneficial to anything.”

You waved a hand, dismissing his doubts. “It’s just a bit of fun. You know, something different. Besides, you can’t always be training or brooding, right?”

Damian looked at you for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, an exaggerated gesture you’d gotten used to. “I don’t see the point in such... frivolity,” he said, though there was an edge of curiosity beneath the words.

You didn’t give him time to think about it. You knew he would overanalyze it otherwise. “Come on, just for a little while. You could use some downtime, and it’s not like Gotham doesn’t need a break from your endless seriousness. You’re my class partner, right? It’s just a few hours of normal fun. You’ve done worse, I promise.”

You could see the inner conflict playing out in his eyes—the part of him that was trained to be a warrior, never wasting a moment, battling with the part that was slowly learning to open up to new experiences. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I will accompany you to this... ‘fair,’” he said, his voice still laced with skepticism.

...

The fair was a short drive outside of Gotham, tucked away just beyond the noise and chaos of the city. You could tell the difference immediately, as soon as the car tires left the paved roads and hit the dirt paths leading to the fairgrounds. There was a certain charm to the place, something rustic and simple, so different from the bustling streets of Gotham or the towering Wayne mansion.

The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the rows of booths, food carts, and brightly colored rides. The scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and music echoed around the fairground. It was the kind of place where people went to escape from the grind of daily life, to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy that came with a simple carnival game or a ride on the Ferris wheel.

You could see Damian’s unease as you both walked toward the entrance. His eyes darted around, taking in the overwhelming sights, sounds, and people. It wasn’t quite the same as the controlled environment he was used to. But you didn’t give him time to overthink it. You grabbed his arm, pulling him toward one of the booths.

“You’re going to love the ring toss,” you said with a grin, all too eager to get him involved.

“Ring toss?” he repeated, the skepticism still clear in his voice. “What purpose does this serve?”

“It’s fun,” you insisted, though you knew he wasn’t convinced. Still, you managed to drag him over to the booth. The game was simple enough—throw rings over bottles. It was a childish game, but you loved it, and you hoped Damian would catch on to the idea of letting go, even if just for a moment.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. "You really think I can waste my time on this?"

You gave him a sidelong glance and a teasing smile. "Well, it’s not about wasting time. It’s about... I don’t know, enjoying the moment."

He didn’t look at you, but he did take a few rings and line them up, aiming carefully. You grinned to yourself. Even when he was trying to act all serious, his precision couldn’t be denied.

With a flick of his wrist, one of the rings flew through the air, landing perfectly on a bottle. You raised your eyebrows, impressed.

“Nice,” you said. “You’re better at this than you let on.”

Damian didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he picked up another ring. “I don’t do things halfheartedly,” he muttered, almost to himself. “If I’m going to do something, I do it properly.”

You watched him, a strange warmth spreading in your chest. The boy was so driven, so serious, yet you couldn’t help but admire his determination. It was rare for him to let his guard down, and even rarer for him to admit that something could be fun.

Soon enough, you had won a small stuffed bear, and Damian had reluctantly agreed to take it from you. You held it to your chest, practically skipping to the next attraction.

“What now?” he asked, clearly still unsure.

"Let’s ride the Ferris wheel," you said, already making your way toward the line.

He didn’t protest, which surprised you. Damian was a creature of habit and control. He liked to know what was coming next, not to be thrown into something unfamiliar. But here he was, following you as you led him toward the towering wheel. It was slow-moving and simple, but you could tell the height of the ride was making him a little uneasy.

Once you were both in your seat, the Ferris wheel creaked to life. The world below you began to shrink, the lights of the fair twinkling in the distance, and the sky above grew dark as the stars started to emerge, one by one. You glanced over at Damian, who was staring out at the lights, his face unreadable.

“You know, it’s nice up here,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Don’t you ever just sit outside and stare at the stars? It’s so peaceful.”

Damian turned his head toward you, his expression stiff. “I prefer to watch... other things,” he said, his tone flat, almost as though he hadn’t really considered the question. “While I’m at it, I watch the bumper-to-bumper traffic and listen to the sounds of car horns and sirens.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his dry sarcasm. “That is exactly why I like to be in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no sirens, no deadlines. Just peace.”

Damian looked at you, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Peace,” he echoed, then gave a short huff. “I don’t know that I would describe Gotham as anything remotely peaceful.”

“Well, I’ll take peaceful over chaotic any day,” you said, your eyes drifting back to the sky, the colors of the fireworks beginning to light up the air. You handed him a stick of cotton candy, offering it with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think you could use a little fun, Damian. Maybe the world won’t end if you just enjoy the moment.”

He hesitated, eyeing the fluffy treat in your hand before taking a cautious bite. His eyes flickered back to you, his voice quieter this time. “Fun. I’m not sure I remember what that feels like.”

You blinked, surprised at the admission. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You were so used to seeing Damian with his walls up, his rigid control always in place, that hearing him admit something so vulnerable took you off guard.

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start remembering,” you said, your voice soft. “There’s a lot more to life than training and working.”

Damian didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he continued to chew his cotton candy in silence, staring out at the fireworks. You could tell, even without the words, that he was beginning to relax, if only for a moment.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, the fireworks exploding around you in bursts of color. It was a strange thing, this peacefulness, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Damian begin to melt into the experience. For once, he wasn’t the brooding, serious heir to Wayne Enterprises. For once, he was just a boy—your class partner, Damian—enjoying the simple joy of a fair.

As the ride finally came to a stop and you both made your way back to solid ground, you felt a strange warmth between you both, something unspoken but real. You hadn’t just taken him to a fair—you’d taken him to a moment where he could simply be Damian, and for the first time, he seemed to appreciate it.

“Not so bad, huh?” you teased as you walked side by side.

Damian glanced at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps... just this once.”

[anitalenia]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Hiii I’m obsessed with your blog! Can you do one where Jason thinks that the reader is cheating on him with dick but it turns out dick is just teaching her self defense hehe

Don't tell Jason

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 1.1 K summary: Jason thinks you're cheating, almost becomes a murder again, finds out you are just learning self-defense with Dick warnings: some violence, some insults a/n: THANKYOU FOR LIKING MY BLOG!!!!11!!1! this request is so funny actually, i really like it. hope you enjoy it! (divider @saradika)

It's the second time since last week that you're coming home exhausted and slightly disheveled from some hangout. He knows you've been hanging out with his older brother, and he trusts you both a lot, but this is getting strange. Muscle ache and soreness by your thighs and arms? Just what did you both do to be this worn out? Jason actually doesn't want to think about it, but he is pretty concerned that something is happening behind his back.

It doesn't make it better that you just pretend nothing is happening and seem to be yourself as usual. Is he really that better than him? No, you would never cheat on him. You promised to never leave him and all that after all. But he also can't ask you directly and accuse you of something like cheating. Jason's already dreading the truth and the way you'll look at him once he mentions it.

Laying in bed beside you, he massages your thighs gently with his warm hands, apparently sore after hanging out with Dick. Just what is this dickhead doing with you? The second time in a row as well. A sick feeling spreads in his gut as he thinks more about it, eventually nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck to calm down while continuing his soothing motions across your thighs.

The evening ends up with you both falling asleep as usual, however Jason has made up a rough plan. He needs to find out the truth. He could technically just ask you directly and stop overthinking, see if his suspicions are true or not. But no, he doesn't want to come off as desperate or stupid in front of you. It took him a lot of time to open up and be vulnerable with you in the first place, then having introduced you to his family once he was forced to. About a year after you started dating, you met his family in a rather chaotic dinner. But you didn't seem to mind, actually seemed to enjoy his big family and could make easy friends with all of them. Hell, even Damian doesn't seem to mind you.

Once you told Jason you'll be heading out with Dick again, he made sure you didn't notice him following you getting to the manor. He was surprised as you walked in with your own key, not having realised you had a key to the manor in the first place. Shrugging it off, he follows inside, well... rather breaks in, so you won't notice him being right behind you.

He stays in the hallway and watches you walk further into the house, cocking his head to the side once you go into the elevator that's usually used to get to the Batcave. Whatever this is, he is having even more thoughts and doubts, getting an even worse feeling about it all. Have you been hiding a secret identitiy from him and are teaming up with Dick? Why didn't you tell him when you know about his own vigilante-family-circus. He needs to know more. He needs to find out.

He follows right after once the elevator doors open again, getting spooked by Alfred.

»Master Jason. What's the occasion?«

The butler looks as neutral as always, but he can see the hint of a smile in his expression. Are they all teaming up against him? »Oh, Alfred... nothing, just, uh... just a small visit. Yeah... I'll be right back.«

Jason quickly steps into the elevator and presses the button to the Batcave, feeling a bit victorious that he could escape this poor distraction attempt. Now it's time to finally find out what this is all about. His fists clench and unclench, trying to keep his cool and not throw up from all this overthinking and possible situations.

The doors open and he basically storms out as quick as a bullet, halting once he hears heavy panting and small praises. He could never mistake your voice for someone else's and his heart sinks into the floor as he listens more to it. This is bad. Really, really bad.

Jason follows from where the sounds come from, being a little confused on why you're both in the Batcave. Sure, it's probably thrilling to possibly get caught, but... seriously, the Batcave? He didn't know you were into that kind of stuff.

He finally figures out where all the panting is coming from, arriving at the training area. He peeks from the corner, feeling his heart almost explode in his chest. But what he sees is entirely different from what he thought.

Dick is standing in front of you with his hands extended for you, both of your knuckles being bandaged up. You are throwing punches at his hands, focusing on your form and stance, while he gives you some feedback and occasional praises. It seems that you are both concentrated and focused, not noticing him at all and just continuing with... what even are you doing? It doesn't really look like a sparring session. But it also doesn't look like anything he imagined you two would be doing.

Eventually, he steps up and clears his throat loud enough to get both of your attention and stop for now. You light up once you see him, smiling and immediately start talking.

»Jason! Look, we've been training together, I asked him if he could teach me self-defense and he's been teaching me since last week. I'm pretty good at it, I can throw punches, kicks and get out of several pins or locks. He said I'm a natural.«

You decide to ignore his scowl and deathly glare towards Dick as you explain and walk up to him. Jason glances to you and can't help but soften up as he sees your smile, also stepping up to you and wrapping his arm possessively around you.

»You couldn't have asked me?« He questions and keeps his sharp eyes on Dick, who winces lightly at the sight of his brother tearing him apart with his gaze. He takes the sign however and takes a few steps away, leaving you some privacy.

»You are so busy with other stuff, I didn't want to bother you any more than necessary. I was planning on asking you, but Dick is also a great teacher.« You answer him as you lean into his side, stretching your arms, looking up at him.

»Oh, I'm sure.« He grits out and finally tears his eyes away from his brother, looking back to you with a softer expression. Seems like he was indeed overthinking and thinking lowly of you. There's no way you would cheat on some prick like Dick. You notice he still seems to be more on edge, tilting your head at him.

»What did you think we were doing?« You narrow your eyes at him, making him gulp down and start to feel even more stupid.

»Nothing!« Jason manages to answer you quickly, earning a scoff and slap against his chest in return.

a/n: RIP Dick Grayson, you'll be missed. Cause of Death: Missunderstanding from Jason. Hope you enjoyed it!

←MASTERLIST

[n0cturn4]

Was it worth it?

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader Summary: In his arms, with the last breath of life Word Count: 948 Music: Hurt Like Hell - Madison Beer

The abandoned building loomed in dark ruins, like a monument to oblivion, its peeling walls and partially open ceiling letting in only scattered drops of the rain outside. The dense shadows of dusk seemed to hold a vigil around us, and the heavy air carried the smell of rust and dampness, so thick it felt as if time itself was trapped there, holding everything stagnant except for the pain.

And then, in the middle of that desolate scene, my eyes found her. She was leaning against the wall, pale, her trembling lips shaped into an expression of exhaustion that no battle could explain, one hand pressed against the open wound on her torso. Blood slipped between her fingers, slow and dark, as if each drop was being pulled from the very essence of her. My heart clenched at the sight, realizing this was no longer one of the many wounds we healed in silence. This was something far deeper, a kind of sacrifice that should never have been hers to make.

She lifted her eyes to mine as she sensed my presence, her face marked by an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, an exhaustion that burned into the soul. Yet still, she managed a tremulous smile—a smile that, somehow, seemed more of a farewell than a greeting. Leaning against the wall, her frail and fading body seemed to struggle against an invisible weight pulling her down, as if the simple act of continuing to breathe demanded every fragment of strength she still possessed.

“Why…?” The question escaped my lips in a whisper barely audible, tearing through the oppressive silence surrounding us. I moved toward her, each step heavy, each movement carrying the weight of what I knew I couldn’t fix. I knelt by her side, my knees pressing into the dirty, damp ground, but none of that mattered. I was so close that I could see the contours of the bloodstains on her clothes, the dark color I knew so well but had never wanted to see there, on her.

She tried to speak, but the sound came out weak, sliced through by the pain. Her lips trembled slightly, and I saw hesitation in her gaze, as if she was afraid to let me know everything that was inside her. I touched her hand, feeling the warmth of life slipping between our fingers as she struggled to find the words. There was something solemn and irreversible in her eyes, as if she had already accepted a fate I still refused to see.

“I… I wanted to protect you, Dad.” Her voice was faint, a breath barely reaching my ears, but every word carried the determination of someone who knew that sacrifice was inevitable. “I knew the risks… knew it would be a one-way road… but I didn’t care. It was my choice.”

I felt my throat tighten, swallowing hard, trying to contain the unbearable weight now crushing my chest. There, in the middle of the shadows, with my daughter fighting for each second of life, the mantle of Batman felt useless. I was nothing but a father, and watching my daughter fade in my arms was a suffering no battle could prepare me for. I held her hand tighter, as if I could anchor her to life, as if I could convince her to stay.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My words came out shaky, almost like a murmur of despair. “I should… I should have protected you… should have stopped you… never should have let you walk down this path.”

She gave a faint smile, that sad and tired smile that bore a courage I had never seen before. Her eyes, even weakened, met mine with a depth that destroyed me inside. She knew, knew everything, and still, she looked at me with an acceptance that felt greater than any understanding I could have.

“Was it worth it?” The question escaped my mouth almost without thinking, a mixture of pain, guilt, and the desperate hope that, somehow, her words could relieve me of this weight that seemed to crush my soul. I needed to believe that all of this wasn’t in vain, that everything she had endured had a greater purpose.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Her trembling hand touched my face, a final gesture of affection, and when she spoke, each word came out in a whisper laden with unshakable strength:

“It was worth it, Dad… it was worth it, because I would do it all over again, just to know you’re still here. I was never just your daughter… I am your shadow, and that is my part in your legacy. You gave me purpose. Now, you have to go on, even if I’m not here. You have to keep Gotham safe… that’s the path I chose, for you.”

She closed her eyes, and her hand slipped softly from mine, leaving her last breath to escape her lips. I remained there, holding her in my arms, feeling the weight of loss rooting itself within me, a profound emptiness taking over what had once been a simple desire to fight. The rain outside seemed to intensify, as if the city mourned the loss of a silent heroine, a warrior who had sacrificed herself for something greater than herself.

For a long time, the only sound that filled the space was that of the rain, like a sad melody merging with the emptiness left behind. And I knew, there and forever, that this sacrifice was the greatest Gotham had ever demanded of me—a sacrifice I would carry with me for the rest of my life, a sacrifice that, as she had said, was now an inseparable part of who I was.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

DC BATFAM FANFIC IDEAS

Bruce not telling anyone in the JL his identity and one day he casually mentions something only an orphan would understand. - The JL members who are orphans understand. The others don't. - The entire JL gets concerned.

Tim's nervous (Read: really scared) around Jason. Jason does not like this and wants to fix it. Wait, why does Bruce glare daggers at Jack Drake? - Jason: I sense child neglect. Dad's already onto it, i see. Ok so how do i use this to get Tim stop fleeing the room whenever i walk in.

Sort of an AU fic where Bruce and Oliver were close friends (Read: brothers and that's what they see each other as) as kids, still as adults, and as vigilantes they work pretty well together, they recognized each other instantly even in cape, and while the the JL doesn't know their identities, each knows the other. - Also they're both autistic and somehow chaos ensues after Flash overhears them talking one day at the Watchtower and now the JL wants to know how these work so well.

Bruce was a wild child and so is Damian.

Jason adjusting to being under a roof, right after Bruce found him.

The first days of Tim's being Robin. Bruce and Dick are concerned, while, oblivious, Tim is doing things that only neglected kids do. He is surprised others care. Dick sets out to change this.

AU where Jack ends up being a crap dad. Bruce has had enough and steals legal custody. - Bruce: Well you had one chance at being a dad and you blew it. - Bruce: Tim's my kid now. - Jack can't do anything about this. To Tim, Jack is 'Father'. Bruce is 'Dad'.

Some of the villains notice that the other vigilantes and even Red Robin himself like joking that 'RR's folks don't even notice that he practically lives at our place, they won't notice him sneaking back in at 2AM'. - Until one day they joke about 'RR's dad blew it. B took legal custody'.

Flash has ADHD but tells no one. The other see the signs tho. Batman calls him out on hiding it. Why Bat? Welp, the other nominated him. GA joins his autistic buddy tho.

This isn't Batfam but Billy/Captain Marvel accidentally drops some street child stuff. The League, of course, pick it up.

Bruce has trust issues. No specific event- just it was that way after his folks died. The JL figures it out that it's not just how he is, he just generally doesn't trust people. They figure out that something happened to make him this.

The JL has to come to Gotham for a mission. They have to stakeout in a graveyard. At some point while they still have a few hours, Batman slips off. When *insert any JL member(s)* find him, he's standing above two graves. They catch him saying "Hope you're proud, Mom, Dad." - Chaos ensues from this.

Kid!Dick has a nightmare. Bruce allows his kid to spend the night with him.

Cass gets into a fight with David Cain. She is shaken. Bruce is there for her, though.

Duke has a nightmare.

Tim tries to sneak outside after having a nightmare. Bruce catches him because he's a Dad. He sensed a disturbance in the force. Anyway instead of getting mad he makes it clear who Dick learned it from and tickles Tim to bits and then carries him back to bed lol.

That's all i got for now lol. Might update it if i get more ideas.

[indulgentdaydream]

How do you think Jason Todd sleeps, like sleeping positions

I'm so glad you asked

also i'm treating this as x reader hope you don't mind

actually i'm going to go off on a tangent first

jason is trained to be as silent as possible. not to draw attention to himself when he doesn't need to. he may be built like a fucking unit/ a militarized fridge, but he knows how to be quiet

that's why i don't think that when he has nightmares that he's waking up screaming/flailing around/punching air. Sure, he's panicking, but he's so used to keeping that under wraps that the most he'll wake up with in a small gasp. maybe a jolt.

after he's awake, of course, is when the panicking starts, the heavy breathing, the sitting up, the pacing, the crying, what not.

(i'm speaking from my own experience. I have consistent nightmares. I've been raised to never make a sound as to not bother others. At most I wake up with a deep breath and pushing myself up onto my elbows.)

now that we have THAT out of the way.

jason, by himself, DEFINITELY spreads out wide on whatever surface he's sleeping on

that man is only sleeping when he's on the verge of passing out.

most times, before dating you, he would get back from patrol, shuck his helmet and armour off, then just belly flop onto the nearest, softest surface and be OUT for a minimum of six hours

sometimes it was the floor. safehouses aren't always furnished

poor guy would usually forget to brush his teeth, too

he meets you and within the next few days goes to the dentist for the first time in a while because he wants to look and be good so you'll like him back

baby had 16 cavities :(

ANYWAYS

with you? good luck moving

he's gotta be touching you in some way. whether he's fully wrapped around you, spooning you, head tucked into your hair/the back of your neck when it's cold, trying to both keep you warm and steal some of your warmth

or a simple hand on your stomach/back/arm/thigh when it's too hot to be fully cuddling

he just needs to know you're still there and that you didn't leave him in the middle of the night

he's insecure :( leave him alone

actually do the opposite marry that man and never let him go

occasionally will let you spoon him, but he doesn't necessarily like it because he feels like he's very closed to being suffocated

loves when you lay on his chest though! he can easily push you off if it gets too much, but for some reason it feels more weighted blanket than suffocation by pillow to the face.

let him lay on your chest as well.

maybe not all the way. he'll keep only half of his weight on you when doing so.

he's SUCH a stomach sleeper. only sleeps on his back when in unfamiliar places. easier to get up that way.

y'all have any kind of animal? you're coming home to find him napping with them wherever. bed? check. floor? more than once. if it's a dog, dog bed? you're chiding him because you now how filthy that thing can become.

he's a sleeperrrrr

let him sleep

help him get rid of his eyebags by giving him some warm milk and tucking him in

100% played with your hair one night while falling asleep and now needs to do it every night otherwise he has a hard time

[girlkisser13]

being married to clark kent would include

• at first, he doesn’t want to reveal his identity to you, even though he feels he can trust you. however, he’s concerned that knowing who he really is might put you in danger.

• once you convince him that you’re willing to accept the risks and show him how much you care, the last of his walls come down. you’re stuck with him forever now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

• your wedding ceremony was lovely. there was a special moment when he used his heat vision to create a heart-shaped firework display in the sky as a surprise for you.

• becoming one of the few people who sees him for who he wants to be, not just who the world needs him to be.

• clark is incredibly gentle with you, always careful with his strength. he holds you close, gives you soft kisses, and makes sure you always feel safe in his arms.

• life with clark is never boring. whether he's saving the world or just helping out around the house, there's always a sense of excitement and adventure in your relationship.

• when it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see.

• he loves the simple things in life— like spending a quiet evening with you at home, enjoying a homemade meal, or taking walks around metropolis.

• clark’s abilities come in handy for everyday tasks. whether it’s lifting heavy furniture, flying you to a special date, or simply speeding through chores, he always makes life a little easier.

• he likes to be touching you when you’re near— whether it’s a hand on your waist, his pinky brushing against yours, or his knee pressed next to yours when you’re sitting together.

• his love languages are acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch. he loves doing things for the people close to him. this includes taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting on a pot of coffee in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes.

• finding out that clark was superman was not that surprising, but you were taken back when you learned his dog was also an alien. not that it stopped you from spoiling him with toys and treats and anything else his k-9 heart desired.

• there’s always a part of you that worries about him when he’s out saving the world. but he’s always reassuring you that he’ll always come back to you.

• despite his busy life, clark always makes time for quiet moments with you. whether it's reading together, watching the stars, or just enjoying each other's company, he cherishes these moments when it’s just the two of you.

• clark loves surprising you with spontaneous date nights. sometimes he’ll whisk you away to a remote, beautiful location for a romantic evening, using his super speed to make it feel like you’re the only two people in the world.

• TRACING HIS FAMILY CREST ON HIS CHEST WHEN YOU’RE LAYING ON HIS CHEST>>>

• you’ve had to adapt to living with someone who has super senses. you’ve learned how to whisper secrets to him, even in a crowded room, and you appreciate how he’s always attuned to your needs, often before you even realize them yourself.

• sometimes when the two of you are late for work he’ll fly you both there.

• seeing something solar powered and never missing the opportunity to say, "oh look, it gets its power from a yellow sun just like you, honey!"

• he rolls his eyes, but secretly he loves it.

• you love both sides of him— the farm boy from smallville and the alien hero who saves the world. he never has to pretend or hide who he is with you, and that freedom to be himself is why he’s so enamored by you. <33

[saylorsaysstop]

Sleeping Together | 18+

also shout out to @joyful-enchantress because after she commented on my Grayson post earlier, this all came to my mind. 🤪

**underneath the cut**

DICK GRAYSON

Dick talks you through it. He wants you to be vocal and makes it his top priority that your needs are met first

"Tell me what you need, baby." - "That's it, just like that, baby. You're close, aren't ya? Yeah, look at you. Come on, grind a little harder. I know you can do it."

Giving head is a sport for Grayson and he excels at it. He eats you out like you're his last meal

The man is an acrobat. He's flexible. All the positions he can get the two of you in should be new entries in the Kama Sutra

Dick loveeeees head in return. He won't ever make you do it or ask, but he loves that you're so eager to pleasure him

"I've been good, haven't I? No other reason to explain why you're gifting me that hot mouth of yours, sweet girl."

Dick isn't afraid to moan either. He knows when the noises start coming out of his mouth, you get off quicker

Let's go back to that acrobatic thing. He may or may not figure out ways to suspend you in the air... He may or may not be such a kinky man that he's got a separate room in your house where he plays sports with you... I'm not admitting it, I'm just saying

Loves for you to suck him off when your head hanging off the edge of the bed. He also loves to eat you out simultaneously

Dick Grayson is a boob man. Both hands on deck, he squeezes and teases your nipples by plucking them between his fingers. Loves to suck on them until they're stiff peaks. Likes to push two fingers into you while he bites your nipple, stroking until he hits that sweet spot. You're a goner after that

Loves for you to take what you want

"Atta girl, ride it just like that. This dick belongs to you, right? Act like it. Pleasure yourself... Yeah, go ahead and play with your clit. Wanna see you come. You're so pretty when you do."

Dick treasures loving on you after sex. He rewards you for your good behavior and a job well done with baths, massages, you name it. He ensures you're taken care of and reminds you that he loves you dearly

JASON TODD

Jason likes it rough. He loves it when he sees your marks on him, whether it be teeth or nails. He collects each one like it is a kill

Ropes? Knife play? Any sort of bondage? Jason Todd is your man

Loves to bind your hands above your head while he rails you deep into the mattress. Loves the idea of you being helpless and unable to take it anymore. Gets him off real quick

Loves some dirty talk

"Take this dick like a good girl." - "You're soaking wet, babe. All this for me?" - "Not gonna waste a drop of this cum, you hear me? You won't let a drop leak outta this cunt - my cunt. You got that?"

Jason likes to get right by your ear while he grunts with each thrust, nipping your earlobe in between before trailing his tongue down your neck and sucking on your collarbone

"Gonna mark this pretty neck up, baby."

You two go at each other until you're a panting mess. Clothes strewn all over the place. Jason and you stare up at the ceiling, laughing like teenagers as you calm down from the high

"I think that was my new personal best. Ten orgasms. Ten!"

Yeah. Jason likes to place bets on who can give the other more orgasms in one night. Right now, he's winning

Jason loves your butt. Loves to slap your cheeks as he bends you over his lap as a warm-up. Carresses and bites the plump skin when he's kissing his way down your body before he hikes your legs over his shoulders and feasts

Likes to feel you breathe against him. He loves to feel your chest rise and fall when he's on top and you're panting for every breath while chasing your orgasm

He's a man who likes to edge that's for sure

"Uh-uh... That wasn't it. You can do better than that. Moan a little louder, that's it..." - "I'm being mean? No, you just need to work harder to come. You wanted this." - "Atta girl. I promise I'll let you come after this."

Jason's aftercare is you two taking a hot bath together where he can just hold your back to his chest and actually talk. You're his safe space

TIM DRAKE

Tim, albeit quiet, is a delectable switch. One day he's all soft and endearing, the next he's plowing you into next week (and blushing when you mention it afterward

He does a lot of studying on sex. What positions feel the best for you, different ways he can go down to ensure he has you screaming his name for all of Gotham to hear

Gets a little possessive during sex, especially when he's losing himself in it

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine, sweetheart. Mine." - "No one else is going to claim you. You belong to me."

He likes it when you pull his hair, especially when he's going down. Feeling you guide him further into you is like a bolt of electricity shooting down his spine

Tim loves to get you relaxed before sex too, especially if he knows it's going to be a long night. He'll run you a warm bath, pamper you with sweet-scented lotions, and get you nice and ready before he unleashes. Fun fact, those nights are when you know he's gonna get rough

Tim won't admit it aloud but he loves a good missionary position or where you two lay facing each other. He loves to caress your face and kiss you softly as he takes you

"Lift your leg, sweetheart... That's it. C'mere. Let me watch that gorgeous face of yours when you fall apart for me, yeah?"

Like Dick and Jason, he VALUES aftercare so. Freaking. Much! Takes a warm cloth to the mess he made between your legs and kisses along the heated skin, telling you how much he loves you