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zaceouiswriting · 8 months ago

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The favorite Bat-Brother?

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Brother!Male Reader

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Slight Brutality

The warm summer sun shone on the beautiful world. On a day like this, you would usually have been sitting by the pool or challenging your brothers to a water fight, but instead, you were in the garage working on your car to distract yourself from what you saw the day before.

To say you were heartbroken would be an understatement. For the first time in your life, you cried. You had felt like a schoolgirl as you stormed through the front door of your home and cried your heart out. On your way to the room, you ignored your brothers' and even Alfred's pleas to talk, but you couldn't speak. Since then, you've been ignoring everyone, whether, in your bedroom or the garage, you always had your headphones on.

So it was no wonder someone tapped you or, in this case, gently kicked your leg. That alone let you know who it was, and that didn't help your terrible mood.

As you rolled your board down, on which you went under the car, the light was blinding, but you, thankfully, didn't have to get used to it because Damian came to stand over you, blocking the light. He looked moody as always, but that day he seemed strange. Suddenly, he motioned for you to take out your earbuds, which you did, only for him to squad next to you.

“Do you remember Alek? The tall black-haired one? The one who models part-time?” Damian asked you casually. But his words broke your heart even more.

“You mean my boyfri- sorry, ex-boyfriend?”

“Whatever,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. But before you could tell him to fuck off if he wanted to make fun of you, he suddenly took your hand and played with your longer fingers. It could only mean one thing: he had done something he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do.

"What happened? Did he do something to you? Do I have to punch him?"

Damian looked at you questioningly, as you both knew that as the only pacifist in the Bat Family, you wouldn't do that. Still, it made Damian smile.

“I think he learned his lesson.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him suspiciously because his questionable words made you feel uneasy.

“Someone got to his car last night, you know, the red sports car, where he cheated on you with this blonde girl. That someone scratched his car paint and broke his windows with a crowbar.”

You were stunned, unable to speak, and not knowing what to say. On the one hand, you were grateful, but on the other, you were afraid that he might get negatively involved with the law, even though your family is filthy rich. However, Damian had taken your silence strangely as he was fiddling with something in his pocket while, at the same time, moving nervously and still playing with your hand. You didn't know whether he was excited or nervous.

But since you still hadn't said anything after a few minutes, Damian took his hand out of his pocket, placed it in your open palm, and dropped something into it. As he pulled his hand back, you saw something small that looked vaguely like a small pebble. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. When you raised your gaze again, words were on the tip of your tongue, but when you looked at Damian's nervous face, your throat tightened.

Nothing was said for a moment, but when your eyes finally met, you saw the fear in his green orbs, letting you know you had to say something.

“What is the meaning of this?” You asked him quietly. “Why did you give me a pebble?”

Damian shrugged. "When I destroyed the dickhead's car, he was there too," he finally confessed. “He won’t be doing any more photo shoots anytime soon,” he continued cryptically. “Unfortunately, he was with a gang I was hunting for a while.”

You were stunned. Up until that point, you thought no one cared. You were always quiet and often felt left out of place. Unlike the others, you couldn't hurt a fly. At least not yet, even though you're Bruce's blood son, just like Damian. Although it didn't matter to you, all four boys were your brothers. You still looked after them, helped them when they were sick or injured, lent them an ear or your strength, whatever they needed. But all the brotherly love was never reciprocated. It was the very first time one of your brothers did something for you. And it was the baby brother of all people.

“Why?” You could only ask before a lump in your throat stopped you from making another sound.

Damian rolled his eyes again as if the whole thing was a nuisance to him, even though you knew better now. “I couldn’t hear you crying at night. You know our rooms are next to each other. I hear everything that happens,” he spoke the last part exasperatedly.

“But-„

Damian groaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes so hard he bobbed his head. "Can you just accept it and not make a big deal about it?" His voice was just as annoyed as the rest of his demeanor.

At this point, you could only nod, still in a strange trance. You were sure that this had to be a dream because it couldn't be real life. Damian had gotten up again and was about to leave. But after a few steps, he stopped.

Damian was always the easiest for you to read, so you knew he was reluctant to say something. But as you knew him, he would turn around once to make a decision. And just as you thought, he did just that. Meeting your eyes, you could see his body tensing and then hopelessly deflating.

“It’s not a pebble,” he admitted strangely. Your face contorted in confusion. “It’s a tooth.”

“What?” you asked, confused. Your eyes fell on your hand. “Whose tooth is that?”

“Shouldn’t you remember that?" He asked you dryly. "You tongued it several times in the lounge,” Damian told you, suddenly teasing with a sideways smirk. Only to have his face scrunch up in realization and disgust. You could only laugh.

“And why is there red...color? I believe?"

"Oh." Damian suddenly became more sheepish. “Well, I accidentally broke the idiot’s tooth on his car. Even though I had already destroyed it before when I found the tooth, I took it and scratched it further in front of the dickhead's face, but just to be safe, I followed with a knife."

Damian tried to remain casual, but you could see a spark of pride in his glimmering eyes. At that moment, all you could feel was the same thing: Pride. With a speed that not even your battle-hardened little brother could comprehend, you stood up, scooped him into your arms, and swept him off his feet. You spun in circles, laughing as you watched Damian try not to smile.

“What did I do to deserve a little brother like you?”

You slowly stopped spinning until you placed him back on the ground. Only then did you see the blush growing on his pale cheeks. You nudged him and asked what was wrong with him. He didn't want to talk, so you laid your hand on his little head and ruffled his hair. You told him everything was fine, not wanting to overwhelm him further. You turned to your car but stopped when you heard a whisper behind you.

"What?" you asked, chuckling in delight.

“Because I love you,” Damian whispered again, but this time you heard it. When you saw him look away, his ears glowing red and tears in his eyes, your heart melted. It made you wonder if your brother had always been this cute or if this was a recent development.

Once again, you were in front of your brother before he could react. You pulled him close, his head barely reaching your chest. Tears quickly wet your dirty shirt. It was the first time he had shown real feelings towards someone. You couldn't bear to say a word, so you petted his head instead.

For minutes, the two of you stood there silently, enveloped in each other's warmth. Only when a lightness befalls the atmosphere did you dare to speak.

“And I love you too, little bird,” you whispered in return with a big smile. “And from today, I break my neutrality! You’re my favorite now!”

“Really?” he asked quickly, looking up. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were even redder than before.

Instead of saying anything else, you kissed the top of his head, ruffled his hair again, and turned away, only to burst into silent tears. You just couldn't let him see you like this, you were still sore from the heartache you had just endured.

***

Damian took it as a sign to leave, but not before hugging you from behind, giving you a tissue, and running away. He went outside and walked back to the main house from the back. When he went back into the main living room, he found Jason and Dick there. He didn't care that they saw him in this mess. Instead, a devilish grin crossed his face.

Both older brothers looked questioningly at the boy, who they believed was the devil reincarnated.

“I’m his favorite!” he announced proudly. His two older brothers looked at him stunned. Then they looked at each other, wondering where Damian had come from. At the same time, something clicked within them. They both stood up simultaneously.

“You liar!” they shouted, not angry but more panicked.

"What did you threaten him with?" Jason asked further through gritted teeth, ready to pounce on the little boy.

Damian shrugged. "I just helped him get rid of a little sadness by beating up his ex," he told them, equally proud. He bathed in their stupid looks before he started whistling and walked away completely relaxed.

The information left the two older brothers speechless, thinking you didn't like brutality. But maybe they had the wrong idea.

Dick jabbed his elbow into Jason's side with a mischievous grin, and when their eyes met again, he couldn't hold it back any longer. “I told you we should have done it ourselves!”

Jason mumbled something incomprehensible before leaving. Dick never thought the other one would be the soft one since he prevented them both by going after your ex, but he had a feeling another chance would soon open up. After all, you're handsome, intelligent, and a Wayne. There are other fish in the sea for you. Maybe, if he finds your future husband, he may finally become your favorite, everything he ever wanted to be. And all your brothers fought about. Only now the war has really begun.

[Masterlist]

#damian wayne #male reader #x male reader #dc x male reader #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #dc #fluff #sad #heartbreak #bat brothers

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blackreaderfics · 1 year ago

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Checking In | Dick Grayson x Black!BatsisReader

↳ Pairing : Dick Grayson x Black!AFAB!BatsisReader

↳ Rating : E (18+ minors dni‼️)

↳ Summary : After your brother Jason’s death, Dick Grayson keeps “checking in” on you. But as far as you’re concerned, he no longer has any right to be a part your life.

↳ W.C : ~5.2k

↳ Tags+Warnings : faux incest - step siblings (direct mentions), mild angst, hate(?)to love, sexual tension, not Titans DC!verse I just like the actor lol, canon divergence: set after Jason Todd’s death and before Red Hood, reader is a model (body type unspecified), referenced stalking, oral (f receiving), P in V sex, degradation (slut, whore), implied daddy kink, porn with plot!, special guest appearance by Booster Gold

“Hot date tonight?”

You felt your eyes roll back into your head at the sound of the male voice that trilled like a mosquito in your ear. Fucking hell, you muttered a curse under your breath. After your shift of late-night vigilante duties, you always seemed to forget to take out your in-ear receiver.

What was that thing Alfred always told you about breathing exercises? You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to quell your irritation. In. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.

“No action tonight, dick?” You rebutted.

“I can hear when it’s a lowercase ‘D’, Y/N. ” Unlike yours, his voice betrayed no hostility, rather, he sounded quite amused.

You and Dick Grayson had never been close. In fact, you thought of him as more a stranger than a stepbrother. Bruce Wayne had adopted you into the family after Dick had already packed his bags and moved out of the manor to Blüdhaven. The only times you saw Dick was when somebody died and you had to attend the funeral.

You didn’t grow up with him like you had Jason. And now that Jason was gone, it was suddenly like the golden “boy wonder” had been trying to squeeze himself into your life to make up for it. Ever since the detective had arrived in Gotham last week on “private business”— whatever, you didn’t want or care to know—he’d been “checking in” on you a bit too often.

“Are you making small talk ‘cuz you’re bored or are you just being annoying?”

“I’m in the middle of something actually.”

You stilled to listen closely, and now that he mentioned it, it did sound like he was in the middle of a fight.

“Well, I would offer to help you but— ”you paused, wincing at what sounded like a man being punched in the gut. “—seems like you got it covered.”

“More than covered, sweetheart. Unlike what you’re wearing.” He made it sound like he was joking; though, the remark itself had bite.

“What?” What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“That dress. Seems a little much for a first date don’t you think?”

You heard a yelp of pain in the background. Dick probably had some guy’s arm twisted around.

“How the fuck would you know what I’m wearing? Or that I’m going on a date?”

You eyed the room while putting on the other half of your earrings. The idea of privacy wasn’t exactly a thing at Wayne Manor. That was the whole reason you moved out and into your penthouse apartment in the city.

If for some reason he had seen you, he would’ve seen your figure in a slinky black mini-dress. A tasteful, but still unapologetic show of legs, cocoa skin, and cleavage all in one.

“That guy plastered you on a billboard in the middle of Gotham. So, y’know, doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. And relax, your comms was on. You ever notice that you talk to yourself? Like a lot.”

He was about to be talking to himself if he didn’t shut the fuck up soon.

Ok, breathe. In. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.

You were violently broken out of your breathing exercise when a screaming welp and cracking of bones sounded through the earpiece.

Dick spoke again, slightly winded. “Bruce say you could wear that?”

“Yes, Dick. Actually, he’s the one that bought it for me,” You deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. Besides the fact that the old man would not give a flying fuck about your wardrobe, you were way too old to be slutshamed or worse, babysat.

“Now I know you’re fucking with me. He has way better taste than that.” You could hear the mirth in his voice; he was clearly just trying to banter with you.

“Oh like you would know anything about taste, Discowing.”

“…”

You got him there.

“Just make sure—”

“Good night, Richard.” You closed the line before he could give you another lecture and pocketed the listening device into your purse.

You regarded yourself in the mirror one last time. It was a certified banger of an outfit, went quadruple platinum in all the clubs in Gotham’s nightlife scene. But that’s not where you were going tonight.

Feeling a little paranoid, you quickly scanned your apartment for any sign that you’d been bugged. Finding nothing, you shut the lights and locked the door behind you. Tonight you did have a date, with one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors at that. So you were going to look hot and that annoying buzzing in your ear was just going to have to deal with it.

A sleek Tesla was waiting for you at the curb in front of your apartment building. You gave a small wave to a handsome blonde-haired man leaning against the sports car.

Your date was Michael Carter, some hotshot tech CEO you’d never heard of before until his company, Goldstar Inc. blew up out of nowhere. From what you knew of him he wasn’t as famous or rich as your billionaire adoptive father, but what he lacked in influence, he made up for in boundless persistence.

For the past month and a half, he’d been courting you with bouquets of roses, designer shoes and handbags, and more recently a billboard of you in the middle of Times Square asking you out. The billboard was what made you finally go out with him, not particularly because you liked grandiose gestures from douchebags, but mostly so he could leave you alone.

When you approached Michael he let out an appreciative whistle, and you let him wrap his arms around you in greeting. He looked down at you, appraising you and probably getting an eyeful of your tits at the same time.

“You are an absolute knockout. Who’s the lucky guy?” He quipped, eliciting an eye roll from you.

Yes, he was also very corny but you decided you liked that about him. You’d dated too many men before that reminded you of the men in your family, and this Michael character was a blonde spark of life, a welcomed change from all the brooding and the fucking bats.

“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“Oh, I don’t mind waiting. Got a lot of time on my hands.”

You smiled up at him, steadying yourself on his arms and feeling the muscle underneath your fingertips. You had to admit, even though he was corny he was complete eye candy. Built like a football player, dimples, pretty face…Yep, you were definitely going to fuck him tonight.

Your eye caught sight of something from over Michael’s shoulder. You shuddered; not because of the temperature—It was a warm enough summer night— but because you could feel that you were being watched. There was… a shadow… lurking on a nearby building.

Michael followed your line of sight to peer over at the dark, confused at where you were staring.

“Something the matter, princess? You cold?” He rubbed some heat into the goosebumps pebbling your arm.

“N-no. It’s nothing. Sorry,” You shook your head, breaking away from him to climb into the passenger seat, swiftly shutting your door before he could offer to close it for you. He scrambled back to the driver’s seat, clearly caught off guard from your sudden change in demeanor.

“How about we—” Michael turned toward you, mouth open in mid-sentence.

“Drive.” You cut him off.

“Excuse me, what?” He blinked in confusion.

“Now.”

“A-alright.” He paused, perplexed, then quietly obeyed, gripping the steering wheel as he pulled away from the curb.

You fished into your purse, opening your messaging app to type out DON’T FOLLOW before hitting send. You didn’t need to see the reply to confirm your suspicions you were being stalked, and you knew Dick Grayson well enough to know he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t.

You frowned at the empty seat in front of you. You had already arrived at the restaurant and taken your orders, but your date had been taking a “business call” in the bathroom for over 20 minutes now. You were starting to think you had been ditched.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up but instead of your date you were greeted by the sight of Dick Grayson in a crisp navy button-down rolled up at the sleeves. He looked like he could be a CEO in his own right, like the kind of CEOs people read in romance novels.

His forearms looked extremely capable, courtesy of his rigorous training; Broad shoulders and dense muscle made his shirt fit slightly too small. He cleaned up nice, a bit too nice since other women kept sneaking glances at your table.

Dick was an undeniably handsome man, but you would never admit that to him. Instead you gave him a withering glare.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing but whatever it is, I didn’t ask.”

“So a guy can’t catch up with family after work now?” He sat down in front of you with a look feigning offense until it melted into a playful grin. He looked a bit too smug taking the spot of where your date would’ve been.

“You’re really shameless y’know that? You showing up and expecting me to just welcome you with open arms does not make you family.” You leaned back and crossed your arms. “What the hell did you do with Michael, Dick?”

“What did I do? What, you think I killed him? Like on some mobster Falcone shit?”

“No, like on some Bruce Wayne shit. Real chip off the old block.” You scoffed. “I know you paid him off. It’s the same story with every other guy I’ve dated.”

He was silent as if mulling over whether or not to own up to the accusation.“I gave them an option and they took it,” he said simply as if there wasn't anything wrong with what he just confessed.

“And here I thought I was the problem.”

“Might be. If you keep choosing guys that’ll walk out on you at the whiff of a few bucks.”

“Fuck you, Dick.” You shot him two middle fingers and gathered your things to go. You weren’t gonna stay and hear this shit.

“They were all full of shit and you know it.”

“D-did anyone order the steak?”

Dick broke his serious gaze from you and flashed a dimpled smile to ease the nervous waiter.

“We’ll take it to-go, thanks.”

You watched your 5th Uber request get denied and sighed. You really didn’t want to have to resort to getting the Wayne driver, but these were incredibly desperate times. Maybe if you faked being in danger, they could get to you fast enough to escape from Dick.

You were in the middle of dialing the number up when you felt something heavy across your back; The smell of leather, wood, and spice interrupted your thoughts. You didn’t refuse the warmth; it was welcome. Somehow it had gotten colder than you had originally accounted for.

“Really good thing I was here. Looks like someone needs a ride,” you felt Dick whisper into your ear. He gave your shoulders a playful squeeze and walked ahead of you to his car. You looked up just in time to see him, head turned and smirking back at you.

“Shut. Up. Just take me home,” You gritted out.

“Your chariot awaits.” He tipped an invisible top hat your direction, bowing theatrically as he opened the passenger door to his car. God he was annoying. You slipped past him, and kicked off your heels as soon as you hit the plush leather seat.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet. You weren’t surprised that he seemed to know exactly where you lived. Which, due to the nature of your job was to be expected. Bruce probably had you all chipped anyway, but you appreciated the illusion of privacy at the very least.

You turned your head to stare thoughtfully at his side profile as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the shift. It was oddly intimate to watch him from this perspective. Gotham City’s lights waxed and waned across his face as you passed through the night streets.

“What?” He seemed uncharacteristically conscious under your gaze.

“So…you’re saying I need to date some sort of incorruptible and righteous superhero. That would be good enough for you, right? Someone that can’t be bought or bribed?”

He glanced at you brow furrowed before returning his attention to the road. “Wasn't saying that.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it Hal Jordan’s kinda cute.”

“Real classy, Y/N,” He said, visibly irritated now.

“What? What’s wrong with Hal?” You pressed, knowing you’d struck a nerve. Dick was terribly predictable and fun to annoy when he wasn’t busy annoying you.

“Uh I don’t know, maybe the fact that he’s Bruce’s friend?”

“Please, they’re barely friends. Coworkers at best.” Since when was that an issue for the dude who hooked up with the commissioner’s daughter anyway? The hypocrisy was truly baffling.

“No.”

“Fine,” You pouted at him. “Everyone cares about money, Dick. It’s Gotham. And you don’t even live here anymore, so who else does that leave that money won’t sway? Alfred?”

He gave you a pointed silence, not in any more mood for the topic of conversation. “We’re here.”

You blinked, surprised. Sure enough, you were in the familiar surroundings of your parking garage. Maybe you’d been too busy staring at the cut of the older man’s jaw to notice you were already home.

“You’re not gonna walk me up? ‘Cuz If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were my personal bodyguard.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Cockblocker.” You muttered under your breath as you scuffed your heels back on. You shrugged out of his jacket and exited the car.

“Hey, wait! Keep the jacket on, it’s cold,” He called after you, but you only waved him off dismissively. You heard his car door slam shut and in a few strides, he was next to you again, draping the jacket over your shoulders.

He wordlessly joined you in the elevator, pushing the button to your floor like he'd been there before. At the door of your apartment, he passed along the plastic bag filled with restaurant takeout.

You briefly considered the raven haired man and then the takeout bag in your hand. “I’m probably gonna regret this, but…you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Dick shrugged, following after you into your apartment.

You kicked off your heels and made a beeline to the kitchen. “Bathroom’s on the right. Just make yourself at home. I would give you a tour but, you probably already know your way around.”

“Thanks, but it’s the first time I’ve been in here, Y/N.” He replied drily, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I wouldn’t do that, ok?”

You only hummed, not really believing him. Dick Grayson wasn’t the type to lie, he was the type to withhold.

You set down your bag on the kitchen table, reaching into the cupboard. “Wine?”

He jingled his car keys as an answer.

“Ah. Right. ‘Protect and serve’ not ‘drink and drive’, got it.”

Dick seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the knickknacks on your shelf. You watched him pick up a few photo frames, inspect them closely for a bit and then carefully set them back In their places.

“You’re making my living room look like a crime scene, officer.” You chided strolling in closer. “What, are you gonna need a baggie for that evidence too?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, humored. “I didn’t know you liked photography is all.”

“Yea well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“I know enough.”

“Like what?”

He looked around the room and then settled on the books and magazines stacked on your coffee table. “You’re into fashion.”

“Well yea, I’m a model, Dick. Not exactly breaking news,” You scoffed. “You sure you’re a detective?”

He broke into a grin, the kind of grin that made the dimples in his cheeks deepen. It was like he genuinely liked when you made fun of him. “Well, I also know you also have terrible taste in men so…”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to get laid?”

“No, and I hope that never crosses my mind." He made a face like the very thought disturbed him. "Besides, you don’t want that.”

You chose to ignore the blatant patronizing. “Not a want; It’s a need. A biological one. Girls have those too y’know.”

“Ugh alright, can we change the subject now, please?” He wrinkled his nose, cheeks faintly flushed. It would’ve been so easy to tease him about how cute he looked blushing.

“You’re the one that brought it up.”

“I did not bring that up. I’m…just saying that I know you’re not that type of girl.”

“Not that type of—And what would that be?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“The one-night stand type. That’s not you.”

“How would you know what I am and what I’m not?” You retorted, agitation building. Getting date-ditched was one thing but getting mansplained to about your sex life was just the cherry on top of a shitty Saturday night.

“I know you,” He spoke slowly with an edge that confirmed your suspicions; The tone in his voice was backed by knowledge of your history—who you were before Bruce rescued you out of that hell and scrubbed your background clean.

“More like you’ve been stalking me. That’s not fair, Dick. You can look up all the data you want on me on that supercomputer but you don’t get to know me. It’s—it’s too late for that.”

You thought about Jason and how he was ripped away from you too soon. Tears fell faster than you could stop them. One second you were ok and the next, Dick had crossed the room to bring you into his arms. You fisted his shirt as you cried into his shoulder.

“You weren’t here. You left. You left us.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He comforted softly, tightening his arms around you.

“That’s not fair, Dick. It’s not fair.” You can’t remember the last time you cried this pathetically. He was rocking you gently now, whispering apologies in your ear.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m gonna make it right.”

He gazed at you now, a sadness in his eyes. You wondered what exactly he meant by that. The only way to make it right was to bring Jason back.

He gently held your face in his hands, thumbs swiping away stray tears. Years of training had calloused his fingers and you could feel them now against your cheeks.

“Let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

His soothing voice released flutters in your stomach—a bubbling concoction of fear, anticipation, and…something more.

Inhale. 1. 2. 3.

Your breathing became shallow as he brought his head down, lips hesitant before yours. When you didn’t move away he brushed against you, softly first, waiting for permission until your eyes fluttered closed and you finally let him in.

Your cheeks burned. Something about kissing him made you embarrassed or maybe you were ashamed, like you knew you were doing something you shouldn’t.

You fumbled out of his jacket, now too hot, and pawed frantically at the buttons on his shirt. He kissed you with more passion, swallowing your moans as his hands shamelessly roamed your body, groping and grabbing handfuls of your ass.

“Bedroom. My bedroom.” You said quickly between fraught kisses. If you hadn’t, he would’ve probably taken you right there on the sofa.

He nodded in agreement, picking you up with ease and swiftly treading to your room with you in tow. He set you on the bed and resumed where he left off until you were lying under him. That’s when you could feel him, all of him, pressing against you.

“‘m gonna make you feel good.”

Ripples of abs and lean muscle ground against you as he kissed down your neck. You gasped softly when his hand moved to rub you over the cloth of your panties.

“Wanna see you. Please, let me see you.”

He tugged the top of your dress down, undoing the clasp of your bra and revealing to him the peaks of your tawny nipples. You inhaled sharply, watching him take your breast into his mouth, eyes on you, as he licked and sucked.

You writhed under him, already overwhelmed by everything he was doing to you. He snaked his hand back into the front of your now-soaked panties, rubbing at first and then inserting a finger, then two until you were stretching around him.

“So wet for me, my pretty girl. Look at you milking my fingers in this slutty little dress. You were gonna let him do this to you, right? You were gonna let him finger your pussy too huh, baby?”

You whimpered his name, eyes wide as he continued to speak with his fingers squelching in and out of you. Normal, everyday Dick Grayson had the image of being a “nice guy”. He was probably that neighbor you’d ask to borrow sugar from; You would never expect to hear such dirty words coming from his mouth.

He hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and brought your hips to his face.

“Let me take care of you, huh? Let me take care of this pretty little cunt.”

You cursed softly, as he began to kiss and suck around your clit as he fingered you.

“Fuck,” He groaned, “You taste so good, baby.”

He lapped at your cunt, making lewd slurps and noises. When he removed his fingers, he replaced them with his tongue and the sensation made you squirm.

“Quit moving so much. Didn’t you say you wanted to get laid? Don’t you want me to eat you out?”

“Y-yes. I want—Mmhfuck.” You nodded, finally finding some semblance of language. The way he spoke down to you was so agonizingly frustrating. It reminded you how patronizing he'd been earlier that night, telling you to cover up and dictating your life for you.

“You haven’t been fucked in a while, huh?” He mocked. “That’s why you were gonna let some guy you met today fuck you—Such a fucking slut that’s why you wore that, right?”

You whined at his words, bucking to earn some more friction from him.

“Holy shit, you like that? You like when I call you a slut.” His smile grew as if he just made a huge discovery. “Yea, ‘course you like it. Should’ve spread your legs on that billboard that guy bought. Let Gotham see how much of a fucking whore you are.”

Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. You felt betrayed by the physical reaction you gave with how crudely he was speaking. He'd figured you out; You liked being treated like a cockdumb slut.

He planted a few more kisses on your thigh, unbuckling his pants with a free hand.

“Wait for me, babe. Touch yourself and wait for me like a good girl.”

You obeyed, rubbing at your throbbing mound to no avail. Your fingers didn’t feel as good as his did.

He freed his cock from his underwear and you could see it now, leaking beads of precum from the tip, swollen and bobbing up against his well-defined stomach. Your mouth watered, you wanted to feel all of him on your tongue. But when you reached for him, he brought your fingers up to his mouth instead, sucking the pussy juices off your fingertips. He kissed your knuckles and returned your hand to you.

“Keep those pretty fingers busy, sweetheart.”

He stroked slowly, watching you tentatively squeeze one of your breasts, your other hand rubbing and dipping between your folds.

“Fuck you’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned before he kneeled to position himself between your legs, aligning himself at your entrance.

“You just need a cock to fill you up, doesn’t matter which one, huh? That’s what you wanted, right?”

He rubbed himself against you, tip occasionally catching on a soft divot, but not fully being inserted inside.

“You’d even let your stepbrother fuck you, huh? That’s how much of a dirty little slut you are.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of humiliation, frustration, and desire. How could your body like it so much when he was being so vulgar, so mean?

“Please, I need—“ You panted, trying to push yourself onto his cock for release.

“Mmh? Speak up, princess. What do you need?”

“F-fill me up. I need you to fill me up.”

“Only good girls get filled up Y/N. But you’ve been talking back to me all day like a fucking brat. You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?

You nodded dumbly in agreement. He pushed inside you a little deeper, only to take it out again.

“P—lease, I’ll be good. Just—need you inside.”

If only the patients at Arkham Asylum could see you now. They’d probably grab front-row seats to see you pathetically begging for some cock.

“You could barely take my fingers, princess. You sure it’ll fit?”

He was right. It was a tighter fit than you anticipated, but you could feel him now hot and pulsating as he stretched you out.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. C’mon you can take it.” He cooed, muttering curses to himself until he finally bottomed out, fully seated inside you.

You moaned, holding onto his forearms as he rutted in and out of you. You could see his length disappear and reappear with every thrust, gathering a ring of your cream around his base.

“How do you feel princess?” He grunted out, pace quickening. “How does it feel to have me balls deep inside that tight little cunt?”

“It. Feels. So. Goo—Ahmmhfuck.” You clenched around him, voice vibrating with every thrust.

“Fuck, you’re milking me, sweetheart.” He laughed, voice smug. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you. Fuck, you’re so fucking dirty. You been thinking about my cock filling you up huh? Being my personal fleshlight? It’s everything you ever dreamed of right?”

You could tell he was enjoying this, enjoying degrading you as you laid helpless underneath him, your release depending entirely on him. It was infuriating that he had this much power over you, but the amount of pleasure he was currently giving you superseded your pride.

He pushed your thighs back as he went deeper into an unforgiving mating press, knees by your ears, not caring that you weren’t as flexible as he was.

“Such a good girl taking my cock so well. Wanted this for so long. You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty. You feel so good; so good for me.”

He moaned into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your mouth and jaw.

“This pussy’s made for me. You’re made for me. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”

You felt his balls smack heavily against your ass as he continued to pound his fat cock into your sensitive cunt, reaching your G-spot.

“Whose is it, baby? Whose pussy is it? Please, baby. Say it’s mine. Just for me.”

“I-it’s yours. O-only. Yours.” You gasped out, feeling a warmth blooming at the apex of your thighs as you came unraveled underneath him.

His length twitched as he unloaded thick ropes of cum inside you, some of it leaking out and down your ass as he thrusted deeper.

"That's right, take my cum. Take it, it's yours. It's all yours."

He continued to fuck his cum into you until your walls squeezed around him, coaxing out every last drop.

It was morning now and sunlight peeked out from between the gaps in your curtains. You grounded yourself back into your senses. Your satin pillowcase cooled your cheek, but there was an unfamiliar warmth pinning you down—an arm wrapped around your waist.

He was half-hard now, erection resting lightly against the plump of your ass. You could feel his chest rising and falling, warm against your back as he slept. Deep breaths in. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.

You liked the way you fit together, your soft curves snug against his hardened body.

You turned a little to try and meet his eyes but your stirring only prompted soft kisses at your shoulder, and a strong arm pulling you ever closer, willing you not to leave the bed.

“Good morning.” He said between nips and kisses, intertwining fingers in yours. “What do you want for breakfast, beautiful?”

“Hmm? You’re still here.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“‘m still here.” He mumbled against your neck. His morning voice became noticeably deeper when sleep still clung to it.

“Not a one night stand type of guy?”

He chuckled softly, the contented sound losing itself in the groove of your shoulder.

“Nope. More like one night and one morning stand.”

You smiled at the terrible joke but willed it away quickly before he could see it.

“I saw that smile,” He accused.

“No, you didn’t.” You tried to smother the corners of your mouth downward again. “You know for someone so smart you say a lot of stupid shit.”

“Aww, you think I’m smart, babe?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he probably had the dumbest smile plastered on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “You also realize you talk way too much right?”

“You weren’t saying that last night.” He palmed your breast, kneading it softly. “Got so turned on you were literally begging me to fuck you. You were all like ‘Please daddy, please fuck me.’”

“I did not say that shit, weirdo.”

“It was implied.” He simpered.

You couldn’t help it; you were giggling now too. “You are such a dumbass.”

“First I’m smart, now I’m a dumbass. Which one is it, hm?”

“Hmm, let me see…Which one is the quiet one, again?”

“You wouldn’t like it if I was quiet, though.” His voice had a hint of challenge in it.

You pursed your lips. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“See? I know that filthy shit gets you going. Wanna test that theory, baby?” He murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. “See if you’ll call me daddy?"

Evidently he wasn’t the only one who got off to dirty talk. His cock was now fully hard and pressing against your ass.

He rolled on his stomach, pulling you closer to him by the thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed as he nuzzled into your sex, laving and sucking, deep blue eyes locked on you. His lips curled into a smile against you when you moaned and sighed with pleasure.

Dick pulled up briefly, pussy drunk, wearing his spit and your essence on his face like a badge of honor. He peppered a languid trail of drowsy kisses from your mouth and up your jaw as you spoke.

“Wha-what happened to breakfast?” Your question spilled out breathlessly from the way his mouth worked, a futile attempt at remaining coherent. Losing face now meant inflating his ego, especially if you proved his little “theory” a bit too quickly.

“How about I eat you out first, then you let me fuck my cum down your throat later, yea?”

His suggestive whisper sent a heavy wave of arousal straight to your heat.

Fuck.

Your bodies became a desperate tangle of limbs; your legs wrapped around his hips as you bucked up to grind against him, wanting—no, needing— him back inside you. Breakfast was definitely going to have to wait.

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

#dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x reader #x black reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x batsis #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #it’s my birthday month so! longer fic than usual #also I hit 100+ followers already 🫣#thanks for reading y’all #brfwrites

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clockwayswrites · 2 years ago

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Like Betta Fish Do - Part 18

You all weren't supposed to get this until Monday, but to celebrate being released from the shadow ban! Have at it! Chapter 15 when on Ao3, MasterpostWC: 2353

Danny left the lecture with a smile on his face. It wasn’t that the lecture had been particularly enjoyable or anything, no, Danny just had been smiling more often than not the last few weeks. It was hard not to when he thought about Jason and the fact that they were dating.

He had a boyfriend. A very hot, very sweet boyfriend who was amazing at planning dates. Aside from the museum, they had also gone back to the beach and the little city near it, and kept up with their normal meals and exploring the city. It all really made Danny realize how much the two of them had been practically dating before their actual date. It was a nice realization. It meant much hadn’t had to change other than being able to hold hands… and take advantage of kissing Jason. Those were changes Danny was very much enjoying.

The next proper date was Danny’s to plan (he had insisted) and different ideas were filling up his head. He wanted to make it as special as the dates Jason had planned for him. The museum had been perfect, after all. It was a lot to live up to. Today, though, was just going over to Jason’s for a meal and to watch something. He pulled out his phone and gave Jason a call to see what food he should pick up.

“Hey, Jay.”

“Fish, hi, um, can I— no you cannot!” Jason answered, sounding like he had turned his face away from the phone. Someone in the background answered back. “No, do not—”

There was the rustling and muffled words before silence. And then— “Hey little fish!” Whoever had just taken over the call was much more chipper sounding.

“Hello,” Danny replied, bemused.

Whoever it was let out a sudden meep as obvious sounds of scuffling filled the background of the call. “So, I'm Jason's brother, Dick.“

“Give me back my phone you fucker!” Jason shouted, his words slightly muffled.

“Hello, Dick.”

An exhaled oof of air was followed by a loud crash and what Danny was pretty sure was one of them kicking the other.

“You can't keep him from me forever!” Dick cried. “Anyways, I'm at Jason's.”

Danny could help but grin at the antics. “I gathered.”

“Right— back off Jaybird— want to come over for lunch? Since I’m, oh shi—”

Danny winced at the sound of the phone hitting the floor. They were really going at it now. He’d give them props for creative cussing. As he listened to the sounds of the fight, he made his way to the subway stop.

Finally, a slightly breathless Jason reclaimed the phone. “Sorry about him.”

“It's fine. Want to put in an order at the Malaysian place for us and I'll pick it up? I'm already on my way over.”

“No,” Jason said (whined, really, though Danny knew he’d deny it). “Don't give into his demands.”

“Victory!” came a strangled cry. From the winded sound, Danny would bet Jason had his brother pinned, maybe even in a choke hold.

“I don't think he's really going to give up,” Danny pointed out. Jason was quiet. Quiet enough that Danny started to backtrack. “Hey, if you don't want me to meet your family—”

“No! It's not… I'll put in an order. It will be under your name. I'm making Dick pay though.”

“Still won!“ Came the shout from Dick before Jason hung up.

“I’ve got it!” a voice that wasn’t Jason called out from inside of the apartment.

Danny did his best to resist the urge to fidget.

Now that he was standing outside of the apartment the reality that Danny was about to meet someone from Jason’s family hit home. And Jason’s family were Waynes. He took a deep breath and tried not to panic. That, of course, meant his brain had time to run through a dozen worst case scenarios by the time the door swung open.

The Dick Grayson that stood in the door was every bit the male model that society pages liked to claim. His smile was even more blinding in person and maybe even a little infectious. Danny found he couldn’t help but smile back, even if it was a little wan and nervous.

“Oh my- Jaybird!” Dick called over his shoulder. “You didn’t tell me how adorable he was!”

Danny felt his cheeks flush red.

Dick spun back to Danny. “Are you a hugger?”

“I— yes?”

There was barely time for Danny to squeak out the words before Dick had scooped him up in a crushing hug. Oh. Okay, that was nice. Danny hadn’t been hugged like that since Jazz left for college and his parents stopped remembering he existed.

“Please stop smothering my boyfriend,” Jason called out as he came over.

“Hi Jason. Food,” Danny said, his words muffled against Dick’s chest. He blindly held out the bag of food in Jason’s direction, keeping the cardboard tray of drinks in his other hand.

“Hey, fish,” Jason said. Danny felt the food be lifted from his hand. “Do I need to get the jaws of life?”

“Oh shut up, Jayce,” Dick said cheerily. He squeezed Danny one last time before he let him go.

Danny took the opportunity to suck in a deep breath.

“Hi, I’m Dick,” Dick said, still grinning and offering his hand like a normal person.

“Don’t tell him!” Jason called out from the kitchen.

Danny leaned around Dick, absently shaking his hand as he did so. “What?”

“Don’t tell him your name,” Jason explained.

“He’s just been calling you ‘fish’ this whole time.”

“It’s driving him insane.” Jason sounded viciously gleeful.

“No,” Dick whined, drawing out the word to an absurd length. “I’m finally meeting you! You’re right here! I have to get to know your name now! I can’t keep calling you ‘fish’.”

“I mean,” Danny said innocently as he finally stepped in the apartment and closed the door behind him. “I like fish. Jason has been very creative with the name. It’s actually a little impressive.”

Dick narrowed his eyes at Danny. “I’m starting to see how you fit with Jason.”

Jason cackled from the kitchen. He set plates and utensils down on the table before coming over and wrapping his hands around Danny’s waist from behind. “My boyfriend, my side.”

Danny smiled innocently and leaned back into the hold.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick said with a roll of his eyes, but he was still grinning happily. He started towards the table. “Come and eat or I’ll take all the roti for myself.”

“No, not the roti!” Danny gasped dramatically.

“Don’t worry, I got extra,” Jason assured everyone as he nudged Danny in the right direction.

“This must be yours,” Danny said, handing over one of the two blindingly pink cups of sirap bandung over to Dick. “Which tells me you are a man of refined tastes.”

“Just because you two have a sweet tooth—”

“Refined tastes indeed, well met,” Dick said over Jason with a fake British accent that would make Alfred wince.

“Indeed. Drink your longan juice, Jason,” Danny said, handing over the third cup to Jason, who just rolled his eyes.

They popped open all the various containers of food, sticking spoons or forks in them almost haphazardly. It became a jumble of hands for a bit as everyone got the first rounds they wanted on their plates. The table was quiet as everyone happily tore into the curries, rendang, and satay skewers.

“So, ‘fish’, if that is your real name, tell me about yourself,” Dick said after he had staved off the worst of his hunger.

“Um,” Fish (he couldn’t believe he had to call the guy fish in his own head) stalled badly as he completely blanked on what to say. Dick had the horrible feeling that people didn’t usually listen to what Fish had to say. “I moved to Gotham for school.”

“Gotham U? Or one of the lib arts colleges?”

Fish’s nose wrinkled adorably up at that. “Gotham U, I’m a total STEM. I’ll leave the books to Jason.”

“He’s a literature heathen,” Jason bemoaned. “But surprisingly dedicated to finding bizarre Jane Austen interpretations for me to watch.”

“You liked ‘the Lizzie Bennet Diaries,” Fish said, pointing at Jason with a skewer.

Jason stole the skewer to Fish’s indignant squawk. “I did, but ‘Persuasion’ was a mistake in every way.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fair,” Fish said, stealing a piece of tofu from Jason’s plate in retribution. (Oh shit, Jason was letting Fish steal his food!) “Not everything I find can be a winner.”

“Okay, but it sounds like you try at least! That counts for something. Got it though, science not books for the fish,” Dick said. “What do you like to do then?”

“Right now life is just a lot of studying and projects and papers,” Fish sighed. “But when I have time I like to play video games. And Jason has been showing me around Gotham and New Jersey.”

“So you swam in from out of state then?”

“Bus from Illinois,” Fish said. “It’s been a change for sure.”

“But you’re liking it?”

“I am, actually. I didn’t know if I would and there’s some things I don’t like— it’s always so… loud here, but the variety of stuff to see and eat is amazing. Like, I never had Malaysian food before moving here and now I don’t know how I would live without good roti just a call away. And, I don’t know, there’s just something about Gotham?”

“The city has a way of sinking into your bones,” Dick agreed.

“You aren’t from here either, right?”

“Nope! But I’ve been here for over half my life now. It’s weird and fucked up but it’s home and I love it,” Dick said with a shrug. “Think you’ll stay?”

Years of training kept Dick from flinching when Jason kicked him under the table.

The fish glanced at Jason for a moment. “Um, well, I guess that depends on if I can find a job or not. But I think I’d like to, if I can.”

“Sorry,” Dick said with a laugh. “You’re probably just worried about your next test at the moment. So exploring Gotham, school, video games— have you faced off against Jason in Mario Kart or Smash yet?”

“No,” Fish said, drawing the word out as he turned to Jason. “I am betrayed. Wounded. You didn’t tell me you played video games!”

Oh yeah, Dick liked Jason’s aquatic boyfriend.

“Just those two really.”

“And Animal Crossing. Our sister Cass got him totally hooked on Animal Crossing,” Dick said, bracing for another kick. Yep, there it was. “You should get him to show you his island. It has a miniature golf course and everything.”

Danny grinned. “Oh you are so showing me that later.”

The tip of Jason’s ears were bright red. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Tonight though! Tonight we have an epic brother versus brother versus fish racing battle,” Dick crowed.

“Oh you’re just lucky it’s not Smash, you might actually have a chance,” Danny said with a slightly feral smile.

“It’s on.”

It was indeed on.

The races were fierce battles and the fish was no guppy, but Dick had been trained against other superheros and set after set came away with the crown.

Several sets in, Fish’s phone went off, making him jolt. “Oh, shit, that’s my alarm to catch the subway home. I better run.”

“I can give you a ride home if you want?” Dick offered, putting his own controller down.

“No, it’s fine! I know it’s still early, I’ve just got this paper to get finished up in the next few days and I’m making myself work on it some each night,” Fish said, leaning over the back of the couch to reach for his bag.

Jason reached out to steady Fish by holding onto the back of his hoodie.

Dick stole Fish’s phone from the gesturing arm. “I’m putting my number in.”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure,” Fish said, lunging forward suddenly. When Jason yanked him back, Fish had his backpack in hand.

Jason clutched Fish to his chest and sighed. “Fish—”

“I’m fine, you got me,” Fish said, grinning up at Jason.

Jason clearly tried to look stern for a moment before he sighed; his whole face softened with the act. He curled around Fish slightly, just enough to brush a kiss to Fish’s temple. “Course I do.”

Since he still had it in hand, Dick snapped a picture with Fish’s phone. He figured the two didn’t have a lot of photos as a couple yet, and they looked precious at the moment. It was clear how much adoration Jason had for Fish— and how happy Jason made Fish. Dick was glad they had found each other.

“Don’t forget your phone.”

“Thanks! It was nice meeting you,” Fish said, climbing out of Jason’s arms and grabbing his phone. “I’ll kick your ass next time!”

“You’re welcome to try,” Dick said cheerfully. “If only fish had more than a three second memory maybe you could get good.”

Fish rolled his eyes, but distracted himself by giving Jason a quick kiss. “I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Course, send me the plans. And text when you’re home safe.”

“Stop worrying,” Fish said as he swung on his backpack. “But I will. Have a good night you two!”

Both brothers bid Fish goodbye as he rushed out the door.

Dick waited till Jason had locked the door before, “Oh my god, Jaybird, you two are so adorable!”

“Dickhead,” Jason warned.

“No, I get to have this. My little brother has a boyfriend and is adorable with him! Did he send you the photo I took? Ask him to send you the photo I took and you’ll see too.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head as he came back to sit on the couch.

Dick leaned over to knock their shoulders together. “Hey, I’m happy for you. He seems like a really good guy. I’m glad you met him.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, that soft smile back on his face. “I’m glad too.”

-----

AN: And one of the Bats finally meets Danny! Or, well, Fish. That seemed to go well, right? Surely everything will be happy now. Are there enough fish puns/jokes? If not, feel free to suggest some! Much love to Moku for giving this an early read over when I was doubting the chapter.

Also I'm craving Malaysian food so badly now ;-;

Due to being shadow banned (they said glitch, but I still believe I got auto flagged for tagging too many people), I am no longer tagging for updates. It wasn't going to be doable in the new post editor anyways! To be notified, subscribe to this post instead!

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do #danny fenton/jason todd #danny fenton x jason todd

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about-faces · 8 months ago

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I’m still trying to figure out what my ideal, canonical Harvey Dent should look like. From his very first appearance, he was nicknamed “Apollo” and, mockingly, “pretty boy.” It’s tricky for me to find some actual living model of that kind of masculine beauty to fit that description, despite decades of handsome actors to sift through. Making it trickier, he needs to be distinct from the handsomeness of Bruce Wayne and the hotness of Dick Grayson, the two main archetypes of male Gotham hotness.

And that’s even before we get into my headcanon ideas about Harvey’s dysmorphia and impostor syndrome about his appearance, which I’d want to come through in glimpses. Where we see a beautiful man who firmly believes he’s really ugly under the surface and is terrified about the day when his inner “true” self is exposed.

As much as I truly, sincerely love how lots of you gravitate towards Harvey being big and beefy, which especially works for making for a very hot Two-Face, my personal ideal Harvey would need to be a much more fragile beauty. But again, one that is distinct from both Bruce and Dick, while still being masculine, yet also beyond handsomeness and into beauty.

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still-crybunny · 4 months ago

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Dick Grayson is attractive in a male model kind of way, to the point where he doesn’t seem real. Every picture of him looks photo shopped but it isn’t, he just looks like that.

Jason Todd isn’t conventionally attractive, but he is hot. It’s the little things that strike people: the way he quirks his eyebrows when he’s being sarcastic, how he laughs, heaving and clutching his sides with his head thrown back, etc.

Cassandra Cain looks a bit intimidating to some people, she looks like she could kick your ass (and she could). She probably has a lot of admirers, but they are too nervous to approach her. Her smile lights up the whole room and I for one would die immediately if she so much as looked at me.

Tim Drake is pretty, he’s a pretty boy. You kind of forget, because he is constantly tired and exclusively wears oversized clothing. Then you look at him in the right light and you go “what the hell, why do you look like that”. He’s not complimented a lot, he’s mostly teased about it.

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marching-weirdo · 2 months ago

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if you told me that I would draw pj masks in 2024 two years ago I would ask who are they.

gunntech au sketches cause I'm normal. also taken during ap us history so ignore random strokes :3. headcanons under more.

connor:

my trans king!!!! 💪💪

gave him scars. most are long and thin, since they usually happen when hes running

let Greg give him a haircut before he transitioned, now never not gets a Greg haircut ™️

stays up late reading, hence eyebags

I have a trans male friend who loves this au as much as I do, so he asked if he could "model" for catboy.

again, this was during class, so he was smouldering like Flynn Ryder while I was learning about Pennsylvania so you know

the more you know

anyway he's Filipino and I'm like OOH THIS WOULD BE COOL

so he's filipino american

also BIG EYES cause cat

gay (thanks romeo) but he's only had, like, two crushes in his life

one of the two kids who go to school

could care less what people think, likes to show off scars ("For the ladies!" his gay ass says)

interesting marching weirdo fact, the lines making up Connor are more scraggly and rough then the others! it's kinda to show he's an angst boy for me lol. but it's cool lore about me!!

imma be honest, Connor was my least favorite sorry!!

also ignore bad gay pride flag, I ran out of colors

amaya

Japanese american (I think it's in @elmushterri video)

oh also @elmushterri is the creator of this au so follow super cool and amazing and intelligent and interesting and-

psa out

lesbian

see Connors flag error for bad Yuri flag

amaya is super careful about getting hurt

see, El said in a qna that amaya was under a super strict household so her aunt probably would want her to shave her legs, etc until said aunt eventually gets redeemed and amaya can be her own girl boss

so I read that and said "HOLD MY BEER"

so when she was like 9, she got a scar on her cheek due to training with Connor and Greg

amaya went home and her aunt starting freaking out

idk if I want the aunt to say it directly to her or like to a friend on the phone that amaya hears, but her aunt says something along the lines of "scar" and "uncivilized" and "ugly" (I imagine what amaya heard was a distortion of what her aunt actually says but I degress)

since then, amaya makes sure to be as safe as she can and not get scars.

she eventually gets one on her leg, but she can cover it with pants

so she changes the "Don't get hurt" philosophy to "only get hurt where you can hide that scar"

so she is the most careful of the three

but she has multiple scars around her body

for a while she thought "if I get a scar on my arm, I won't on my face" philosophy because ngl she's my version of anxious™️

but eventually she realizes that's dumb.

her back is shredded due to enemies trying to cut her wings

eventually when she is in therapy and an adult, Luna will draw shapes on some of her scars and vice versa

adult amaya still gets embarrassed whenever someone sees her scares

anyway

amaya has terrible eyesight. horrible. Luna knows this

has a hair pin with a moon on it as a gift from luna (the notes that came with it said "for when you need to shank a bitch on short notice"

wears it everywhere

keeps hair long to hide neck scars and only puts it up during training or on duty

fun story: Greg and connor wanted her to get a really short hairstyle so they could be the "Bob boys"

amaya refused and greg and connors dream died

the other kid to go to school

star pupil. young prodigy.

as all mae whitman characters should be

fun fact: took me hours to do her nose.

finally figured it out when I looked at katara fan art and said "ah"

so MAE WHITMAN CONNECTED UNIVERSE?!?

also

her lines are very curvy and delicate to show her more level-headed thinking.

as opposed to connors roughness

my fav. I support her rights and wrongs 😔��️

greg

rich kid mullet let's gooooooo

i kinda got inspired by a cross between andrian from miraculous ladybug and dick Grayson from Wayne family adventures

speaking of adrian

he's French American because of course

he grew out his hair to match amaya and connor hates him now

home schooled (rich kids smh)

because he's homeschooled, he doesn't care about cuts and scars and hurting himself because he thinks it's perfectly normal

also, he was sprayed with acid during a test (you know those dinos from jurassic Park who shoot venom? that but feral child)

incredibly buff and will hug you to the point of death

TALL

I looked and he seems to not have many ships with men

so an ally

he's also clueless so...

he doesn't actually know that homophobia is a thing

he sees two men kiss he thinks cool

two women? cool

a woman and a man? SAVE ROOM FOR JESUS

joking.hes chill

he has dimples and the biggest smile ever

for angst: his smile gets smaller and smaller as each season happens.

as a teen, his resting face is a smile

eventually resting he looks in pain

ANYWAY

incredibly smart

romeo hates how smart he is

but romeo is street and lab smart

greg tries

he can tell you about quantum theory but doesn't understand that people are sarcastic

he's probably autistic or has adhd or both

he probably wasn't professionally tested

Luna probably gave him a lizard to watch and Greg didn't move for 16 hours

also luna and greg are besties

because of course

fun drawing: very square

I wanted him for two reasons

1: he's always stiff due to being a Gunn

2: he feels like a robot: infinite possibilities but only if a button is hit

anyways thank you! sorry for long post! villains up soon!!

#gunntech au #pj masks #connor pj masks #amaya pj masks #greg pj masks #artists on tumblr #sketch

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r4ins · 2 years ago

Note

could u pls make another dick grayson x male reader fic? ^^

Dick Grayson x Top Male Reader

cw. bottom dick x dom male reader

“I thought you Bats didn't approve of gun ownership,” Y/N murmurs when they step over the carpeted threshold. Dick trails him, hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans. Y/N definitely hasn’t been looking at how they frame that cute ass.

Dick doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze trailing over the wares with aloof curiosity, waiting as Y/N approaches the nearest rack. Doesn’t bother to turn over the gaudy little price tag; he can afford any model he wants.

“I don’t have an issue with you owning guns,” Dick replies lightly, and Y/N hums. “I do have an issue with you using them on innocent civilians, though.”

“What about smart-talking vigilantes?” Y/N quips back, and looks up in time to see the man flush. Dick’s gaze slides away, nonchalant, and he clears his throat.

“I mean for your work. If you’re just looking for some toys to try out at the range, I’m not going to hold you back.”

“And there’s no ulterior motive to wanting to accompany me into a gun shop,” Y/N returns with a crooked brow.

“No,” Dick says, admirably level.

Y/N hums again, and wanders over to the handguns. He palms the nearest, pulling it off the rack to test the grip, smooth his trigger finger down the barrel. “See anything you like?”

Dick smiles. “I don’t want a gun. They’re your thing. I’ve got all I need with my escrima.”

“Sure, Grayson.”

He palms the slide, listening for the satisfying clack of polymer settling. He lifts the firearm and squints his good eye down the sights, aiming for a rack of semiautomatics across the room. Dick’s gaze follows him, but there’s nothing in his expression to give the game away. Doesn’t mean Y/N misses the minute hitch in his heart rate.

He lowers the gun, ejects the empty clip. “So you don’t have an issue with my work?”

Dick makes a complicated expression. “An issue? Maybe. Would I prefer you were putting your talents to better use? Absolutely. Am I going to try to stop you? I’m not that stupid. And you’re holding a gun.”

Y/N snaps the clip back into the well, holding Dick’s gaze as he does. Which means he sees the heat bleed into those blue orbs. “And they say you’re just the pretty one.”

Dick gives him a grin for that, trailing Y/N as he shifts down the wall, setting that gun aside and trying a higher caliber.

“Charming. I am more than just a pretty face though.” When Y/N opens his mouth, Dick cuts him off with, “Don’t tell me I’ve got a pretty ass too. I’ve heard that one before. Come up with something original.”

Y/N grunts, and weighs the new firearm in his palm. It’s heavier, the frame steel. Dick’s throat bobs when he swallows.

“Have any favourites?”

“Favourites?” Dick repeats blankly.

Y/N waggles the gun in his grip. “Any favourites?”

“Oh.” Dick flushes, then nods at the gun in Y/N’s palm. “That one’s bigger.”

Y/N gives him a wry smirk. “Ever the size queen, Grayson.”

Dick scowls. “I didn’t mean like that. You’re big, I figure a bigger gun is something you’re after. Fragile masculinity and all that.”

Y/N toys with the hammer, ratcheting it back slowly under Dick’s burning gaze. “You really don’t know the first thing about guns, do you?”

“I’ve studied guns,” Dick contradicts, hands slipping from his pockets to cross over his chest, defensive. He leans his weight into one hip, considering Y/N’s current fascination. “Bruce gave us all the rundown.”

“You haven’t studied them yourself though, have you? Haven’t gotten familiar with them, intimate.” Y/N’s grin becomes a tad more malicious when Dick shifts at that, so he smothers it back to acceptable impassivity. “You could do with an education, Grayson.”

“And you’re going to teach me, aren’t you?” Dick suggests, crooking a dark brow. He doesn’t look offput by the idea, though.

“Is there anyone who knows guns better than me?” Y/N counters, returning the handgun to its hook. Dick’s expression is just the barest bit crestfallen at the surrender.

He gathers himself rather quickly though, to quip, “Deathstroke.”

Indignation spills across Y/N’s features before he can curb it, displeasure twisting his lips down at the corners. Dick’s grin grows in response.

“Jealous, Y/N?”

“Watch your tone, Dick.”

“Oh no,” Dick purrs, and circles around behind Y/N to lean one hip against the nearest counter, where Y/N’s eyeing the rows of custom engraved bullets with intrigue. “Don’t tell me your ego is that easily bruised.”

“If you want to talk bruises, that can certainly be arranged.”

Dick’s lips tick up another notch. “Bit cliche, don’t you think? You’ve only spanked me - what - forty-five times, at least count? Losing your touch a bit, babe.”

“Or maybe,” Y/N contradicts in a low murmur, “I just know all your kinks so well by now, little bird.”

Dick flushes at the nickname, but lifts his chin an inch, challenging. “I don’t think you know all my kinks.”

Y/N scoffs, and brushes past him to retrieve another firearm, far above where Dick can reach. Doesn’t miss the younger man’s gaze appreciatively trailing the length of his arm when he stretches upward.

He flips the gun over in his palm, watching the light dance down the sleek black metal, the way it catches in Dick’s blue eyes. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Grayson.”

“Subtle?” Dick prompts, saccharine.

Y/N glances up, meets that gaze with his own eye.

There’s the sharp, bright chirp of a momentary alarm, and then the electricity snaps with a harsh sizzle, the store falling into immediate dimness around them. Y/N’s gaze goes to the door, to mark the reinforced steel bolt that locks into place. Dick’s gaze sweeps the counter and the unmanned racks.

“Lockdown,” Y/N murmurs, on the lazy side of alert. “Someone tripped the alarm.”

“No one else in the store,” Dick informs him, in quick report. “Unless someone’s in the back.”

They pause for a moment, to note the stillness and the distinct lack of panic.

“False alarm,” Dick entreats, and Y/N nods an agreement.

“No getting out until they reset the breaker, I’d say,” Y/N concurs, shifting around Dick to return the firearm to its shelf. Then he has an idea.

He withdraws the gun, index fingertip stroking the steel.

Waits until Dick’s gaze slowly returns back to the metal, like a moth to flame, before he offers, “I suppose I could give you that lesson while we wait.” The suggestive stroke of his finger down the barrel leaves no room for implication.

“Seriously?” Dick says with a hint of incredulity, and eyes the gun.

Y/N lets it loll in his grip, if only so he can enjoy the way Dick’s eyes fitfully track the firearm. “I need a new gun. It would be negligent of me not to test it before purchase.”

Dick’s gaze flicks to the door, and then the empty counter, skimming that sleek barrel before it jumps back up to Y/N. His pulse is rabbiting. “You’re serious.”

When Y/N just holds his gaze, steady and unwavering, Dick’s throat bobs. He bleats a short, tittering laugh, his gaze flashing to the door again as his weight shifts against the case.

“Here? Right now?”

“Can you think of somewhere better?” Y/N returns, and smirks at the scowl Dick throws him.

So the little bird needs convincing. Y/N’s a regular charmer.

He takes a step forward, ignoring the reflexive tense that halts the air in Dick’s lungs, and stops just short of crowding the boy. Ensures he’s only barely touching the front of Dick’s torso, enough to set the man’s senses to blistering.

Dick swallows again, and looks up to meet his eye.

“I think we both know how this is going to go, little bird,” Y/N murmurs, tone deep in a way that pulls a shiver from the acrobat’s arching spine. He lets his wrist lull until the muzzle of the gun in his palm nudges Dick’s thigh, just so he can enjoy the way the boy flinches at the cold touch, distracted. “The question is whether you still need convincing.”

Dick’s gaze flicks down and back up when the muzzle traces the joint of his thigh and hip, trailing higher before returning. Y/N’s lips quirk at the involuntary shudder it produces.

Then those pretty blue eyes flash across the store one more time, to each corner of the room and back over to the counter. Cataloguing surveillance cameras probably, though he arrives at the same deduction as Y/N; whatever tripped the power to the store probably cut the power to the surveillance feeds too.

All the privacy they need to get started.

Dick shifts then, hands lifting to Y/N’s hips to ease him back a step. Just far enough away from the counter that the little bird can slide down to his knees between Y/N’s boots, eyes locked on his the whole while.

It’s an intoxicating sight, having a man like Dick Grayson willingly sit on his heels at Y/N’s feet. Makes his mind race with wicked possibilities, makes him almost wish they had more than a few minutes before the electricity comes back on.

Let it not be said that Y/N can’t make the most of a time-sensitive situation.

He rolls his wrist, letting the cold metal glide up the angle of the man’s jaw. Dick tilts his head into the motion, giving him a soft little moan when those sights scrape down the ridges of his windpipe and then press in against his pulse. The little notches leave twin marks when Y/N pulls them back, but only so he can nudge Dick’s gaze back up to his own again.

“Didn’t need that much convincing after all,” he points out, and chuckles at the flash in Dick’s gaze. His fingers slip into the man’s dark locks, a hush cresting over his lips as he taps the barrel of the gun against that handsome chin. “Don’t pout, little bird. We both know how much you’ve been begging for a good throat-fucking.”

“Didn’t think I’d be getting it from your gun,” Dick admits. Y/N can tell from the tightness of the words just how affected the man is, see how much he leans into the sensation when Y/N drags the gun up to knock gently against his cheekbone. “You’re not one to share, usually.”

“If you’re going to mouth off,” he warns, “I can give you a nice pretty bruise to remember the occasion by.”

It’s a delightful sight, watching the words tumble through the boy’s skull, seeing the way he conjures and discards quips just as quickly. Weighing the merit of each against the possibility of Y/N knocking his teeth around in retribution.

He settles on, “I can find something else to do with my mouth, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Y/N praises gruffly, and reaffirms his grip on the boy’s hair, holding him steady as he aligns the barrel with those begging lips. He makes sure to stop a few inches short of penetrating the man’s mouth though, just to watch the confusion and then the realisation crest over Dick’s features.

The little bird’s been trained well though, because Y/N doesn’t even have to bleat a guiding command before that tongue dips out to lather the underside in a long, tantalising swipe. Y/N hums an approving note, offering more of the barrel as the man’s enthusiasm rises. There’s something about the sight of those soft, pliant lips caressing hard metal that has Y/N’s blood heating, has him fighting the urge to just fuck straight into the boy’s begging mouth.

“Chamber's empty, right?” Dick asks between dragging kisses down the cold metal.

Y/N gives a responding hum. “Hard to say.”

Dick stills for a beat, eyes flashing up. “Y/N-”

He takes advantage of the man’s slack jaw to press the muzzle between his teeth, ignoring the bleat of surprise in favour of enjoying the way Dick immediately opens to allow the gun entrance. It slides across his tongue, sights clacking on his teeth as it dips inside.

Y/N doesn’t push it farther than that, giving his bird a moment to adjust. Those blue eyes are heated, but from the way his cheeks hollow and those pretty lashes flutter invitingly, Y/N assumes the outrage is fleeting.

“That’s the way,” he purrs in approval, enjoying the shiver that traces down Dick’s spine, the way he tilts his throat open a few inches further. Betters the angle of Y/N’s gun when it slips over his plush lips.

The roll of the flesh beneath the unyielding metal is mesmerising, as is the way the boy takes every slow thrust so readily. He looks completely focused, on his knees, at Y/N’s mercy. Every sense and nerve attuned to the inexorable press of that gun further and further into his throat.

“Come on, little bird,” he coaxes, easing the barrel deeper. “Something tells me you’ve got a little more give in you. I’ve seen you take cock deeper than that.”

Dick whines at the tease, jaw opening farther to let him in, to beckon that gun deeper into his throat. He only gags once, when the sights press against the roof of his mouth, and then he’s drawing in a sharp breath, wresting free of Y/N’s grip in his hair to bear down on the weapon.

When he pulls back up, Y/N only lets him withdraw as far as letting the sights clack against the back of his teeth. Those blue eyes slide up to meet his, awaiting instruction, so Y/N gives it to him.

“How about you tell me how much you want it, little bird?” he suggests, and pumps the gun once, slowly, into his mouth just to watch those gorgeous eyes water. “Convince me how much you need a gun down your throat.”

To his credit, Dick doesn’t try to pull back any further. Not that he’d get far, with Y/N’s unrelenting grip holding him at just the right angle. His tongue dips out once, in an attempt to wet his lips perhaps, before he tries to speak around the barrel filling his mouth.

It’s barely coherent, but Y/N can interpret the sentiment of the, “Please, Y/N,” from the earnestness in the little bird’s eyes. He watches the man swallow, that throat flexing as that tongue withdraws briefly, before he tries again, moaning the words out around the muzzle in his mouth.

Y/N holds him there, lets the man beg and plead around the obstruction for a few seconds longer. Just until he can see the first bead of drool spill over the stretched corners of those lips, see the flush that takes over his cheeks when Dick realises, see the way he tries to angle himself to curb it and finds himself trapped beneath Y/N’s grip.

“What a pretty sight you make,” Y/N coos, tilting his head sideways until the string of drool is caught beneath what remains of the light. If it takes longer to drip down the boy’s chin too, that's just a bonus. “Making a mess of yourself.”

The droplet parts from Dick’s wavering chin, splattering on the toe of Y/N’s boot as they both watch. Y/N takes the moment of distraction to thrust the barrel deep, enjoying the sound of the man’s choke, the slick sound of saliva as he gags, before he withdraws it back to a reasonable length again.

“Just begging for it, aren’t you, slut?” he says quietly, smirking when Dick’s gaze flashes up. It’s wide and open, laid bare for him.

Y/N slides back the gun, ignoring Dick’s bitten down whine as he wipes the weapon clean on each of his cheeks. Feels a thrum of heat at the way Dick’s lashes flutter with shame, at how the spit must feel drying on his skin. Then he returns the gun to rest on the man’s lower lip as he shifts his other hand to unbuckle his belt.

“I don't think I’d even need this,” Y/N ponders aloud, rolling the flesh of Dick’s lip beneath the muzzle, “to get you to take cock like a good whore. You’re eager enough already.”

Dick moans, soft and breathless, when Y/N palms his cock, eyes flickering between the progress of his calloused hand and Y/N’s burning gaze.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse,” Y/N continues, peeling his jeans down far enough that he can bear his cock to the cool air, and pause to sigh, “so that no one blames you for being the eager little slut you are.”

“Please,” Dick whispers, lips catching on the barrel when he speaks. It kicks Y/N’s pulse up another notch.

“How about you show your gratitude by sucking me and my gun off?” Y/N suggests, enjoying the breath that hitches in the man’s throat. “Then I’ll let you keep the excuse to take back to Daddy Bats when he asks why you were on your knees in broad daylight sucking off a mercenary.”

The groan is much more audible this time, the need obvious in the way his hands fist the material of Y/N’s jeans. He doesn’t keep the bird waiting, angling the gun into the corner of Dick’s lips as he feeds his cock into the vigilante’s mouth.

Dick takes him eagerly, familiarity taking over as he sets to work. Y/N lets him adjust for a few moments before he taps the gun against his cheeks, humming approval when they hollow obediently.

It’s wet and hot, those lips sinful in the way they wrap around Y/N’s cock like they were made for nothing else. The small, pleading moans that spill up the boy’s throat are a gorgeous accompaniment, betraying the need in that heated gaze.

“That’s it, little bird,” Y/N murmurs, chuckling at the whine Dick lathers around his cock. Those pretty lashes flutter when he presses the man’s face down on his cock, gun scraping across his cheekbone to dig into his temple.

He lifts a thumb to draw down the hammer, making sure every click of the mechanism reverberates into the boy’s crooked ear. Those keens rise to a fever pitch when he releases it, his motions growing sloppily desperate as he fucks down onto Y/N. Punctuating each moan with the mercenary’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

“I could blow your brains out, just like this,” Y/N coaxes, and curls his finger off the trigger guard.

Those pretty blues roll, his motions jerking to a surprisingly sudden halt as he shudders. For a moment, Y/N wonders if he’s taken it too far; then the flush spreads over the little bird’s cheeks, a sheepish edge to the gaze he won’t lift to meet Y/N’s eyes.

The realisation crawls over Y/N’s skin like a palpable heat, thundering down to his groin as he fucks tightly into Dick’s slack, recovering mouth. The thought that the man could come just from the threat of a gun has Y/N spilling down his throat, grunting as he empties.

Dick takes it all with only the mildest of chokes, Y/N guiding palm helping him to keep it all down. He settles once the brunt of it is taken, catching his breath when Y/N pulls free and tucks himself away.

“Come on, little bird,” Y/N says, offering a hand to pull Dick up to his feet. He wipes the back of a hand against his lips, still flushed with colour beneath Y/N’s wandering gaze. “There’s a range in the back where we can try this one out. I think we could even fit you beneath the counter if you aren't inclined to watch.”

#top male reader #x male reader #dc comics #gay #dc universe #dick grayson #bottom dick grayson #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #queer community

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wormsin · 9 months ago

Note

at what point did dick’s fatass become a meme, was there a specific issue that drew his ass huge that tipped the iceberg?

ok, I love that at least one person out there thinks that I am an authority on this topic.

no, there was not one issue that drew his ass so incredibly that it suddenly became iconic. over the years, Dick grew up from being a platonic boy hero to a sexual adult, then sex isol, then bearer of an (at times) voluptuous ass. this video has a good recap!

(sidebar—I need to make a correction to the video, which is a bit of misinformation I see floating around all the time, which is the idea that Devon Grayson did not admit or know that what she wrote in Nightwing #93 was sexual assault. she just didn't call it rape at the time, but said it was nonconsensual, and depicted it as sexually traumatizing for Dick. 2004)

ANYWAY,

I would say his fat ass became a meme recently. and. gonna be honest with you. except for a few depictions, it is not that big of an ass. he is way too skinny to have a truly fat ass. It's still nice! but let's not kid ourselves.

last year, the Harley Quinn tv show changed Dick's model to have a larger ass for an important plot point. which is how we got... the ass casket. cassket.

2022, Harley Quinn: The Animated Series: The Eat. Bang! Kill. Tour #3.

Nicola Scott's tribute cover, 2019. this kind of went viral and likely solidified the fanon-turned-canon that Dick has a great ass.

in Grayson #6, 2015, Midnighter recognized Dick by his ass.

ah, gay rights have come so far.

I won't get into the whole history of Dick Grayson being sexualized in general because that is a huge, huge topic. he's been sexualized since the NTT at least, and superheroes in general are a site of body image politic, bla bla. so I'm sticking to his butt in particular.

around this time, some DC writers and artists are purposefully trying to make Dick's ass prominent on the page. or at least Simone is. "I am writing it, of course there’s Nightwing ass!" Gail Simone, 2014, referring to Nighting/Oracle convergence. did the comic deliver on the ass? sadly no.

a little earlier, Nightwing (2011) #40, from 2013, has a some notable art. I've seen lots of people reference it as some kind of "female gaze" thing, which. I get what that's trying to say but you can't just invert the theory of the male gaze. sorry.

so I think it was the mid 2010s where this idea that he has a great ass starts to influence canon writers and artists, which reached a boiling point 2019 and 20s. now, artists had drawn Dick in a sexual manner before, and had drawn him with a gorgeous ass. I think it's both fan culture and some work of inspired artists that got us to this point of having a canon history of Nightwing Ass. its also important to note that in the later 2010's, the idealized body included a fat ass, which was really not the case in, say, the 90s.

if anyone has earlier issues or instances of Dick Grayson ass-centrism, please send it my way. I've only read like. a quarter of all of Dick Grayson's appearances lol.

#dick grayson #nightwing #ask worm #meta #batman meta

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jerseyluck · 1 month ago

Text

It is so ballsy for DC to launch a digital first initiative with a comic that is titled with a pun about Nightwing's butt.

First issue makes good use of the vertical format, and the idea of Dick Grayson discovering who he is after being a superhero. And it is nice to have a book that shows Dick as a male model and doesn't make him look ugly

#dc comics #nightwing #patrick young #moy marco #barbara gordon #dick grayson #nothing butt nightwing #read through

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mochinek0 · 2 years ago

Text

Daminette December 2022: 8-Submission

Damian Wayne pouted in the car on the way to his punishment. He had yet to figure out what it was, but it had been worth it. As Robin, he had broken formation, during patrol, and returned to the meet up point with a kitten. Batman had denied his request to bring it home. He even had Oracle locate several animal shelters.

"I will be taking it to a veterinary, first. They can also checked to see if it belongs to someone. If no one has claimed it within a week, I will return with it." Robin demanded.

"No." Batman growled.

Robin frowned, "Al.....Cat A is getting older. He will have a playmate and I will have a companion after he passes."

Nightwing nodded. Red Hood sighed and Red Robin yawned. Batman sighed.

'It was true that Damian had kept Alfred the cat since his arrival to Gotham. It was becoming more apparent that Damian was worried about his cat. He had been taking it to the vet more often. The cat was eating less and had even allowed them to pick him up when he was in the way. Alfred the cat had become more docile.'

"Very well." the Dark Knight answered, "Return to the cave and get prepared. Agent A, Robin will be returning with a small companion, in need."

"Yes, sir." Agent A replied.

The Wayne boys had been upset that Damian had gotten special treatment, in their eyes. They had decided they would punish him for extending patrol hours for them.

"Where are we?" Damian demanded.

"Surprise, Little D!" Dick exclaimed.

Jason smirked, "We picked the worst thing we possibly could."

"It took all week, but we finally came up with the perfect plan." Tim smiled, then yawned.

"What is it?" the Wayne heir growled.

"Can I tell him?" Jason volunteered.

"Sure." Tim answered.

"We all hate those stupid parties and do anythign possible to not be grabbed at." Todd smiled, "So, you are going to be a male model for this event."

Damian was stunned. His father's adopted children had decided to punish him with making him a dress up doll. What was worse, he was going to be touched and grabbed; he couldn't lash out.

'Assholes.'

"This was a last minute thing, too." Grayson declared, "They needed a replacement."

Damian sat silently as the horde of girls, across the room, pointed at him and his siblings. He wished he could be anywhere else, right now. At least there were some other males in the room, but their glares weren't any better then the giggles.

'Why couldn't they have just shipped me in a crate back to Mother?'

"Damian Wayne." a voice called.

Damian and his brothers stood up and followed the voice. A girl looked at them confused, but opened the door wider. The girl closed the door and stared at them.

"Damian, go ahead and stand on the platform." She demanded, "I'll need you to strip to your boxers."

"I will not!" the Wayne heir growled, taking a step forward.

"How else am I suppose to take your measurements to make sure the clothes fit you?" she shouted.

Damian remained where he was.

"You're the designer?" Drake shouted.

She smiled, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, at your service. I've been designing since I was ten and my clothes have rocked runways since I was thirteen."

Damian quickly looked over the designer's appearnace. She was his age, maybe younger. Her hair was so black it appeared blue and her eyes were the bluest he had seen. That alone was saying a lot since his family was notorious for their blue eyes. Marinette looked tired, almost as much as Drake.

"So it's your fault I'm here?" he questioned.

She glared at him.

'Interesting.'

"I didn't personally ask for you, Your Highness." She declared, "A friend of mine was suppose to be my model, but he broke his leg. I don't know who you are and I don't fucking care! Right now, I have to figure out if I have clothes to alter or possibly remake, altogether. Get down to your boxers so we can both get this over with. The faster you do this, the faster you can get out of my way."

The Wayne boys were shocked. Everyone usually treated them like they were special. This designer didn't know who they were and didn't even care.

Damian quickly listened to her.

'Looks like we both don't want to do this.'

Marinette quickly got to work. She had made a chart on the paper under Adrien's. She made sure to follow the same guidelines to easily figure out if there were changes to be made. She quickly measured his arms and chest. Adrien may have been use to all of this, but she could feel the subtle flinches under her hands.

"I'm only going to explain this once. I'm going to measure your lower half. That includes the inseam; the inseam will be you inner leg. You cannot move. If I make a mistake, the pants can be too tight and ride up. That would be uncomfortable for both of us." she quickly explained.

Marinette got up and began to look over her notes.

"Get dressed." she stated, "You're dismissed."

She flipped the paper up and down to compare Adrien and Damian's measurements.

"Will he be okay?" Dick questioned.

"I have to make new clothes for him." she sighed, "I can't use what I already have."

"Will your show be okay?" Jason asked.

'Shit! We made this a punishment for her, too.'

"Yeah. I'll have my assistant stock up on coffee. " Mari declared, waving off their concerns, "Mostly everyone is coming in for a fitting, today, so there shouldn't be any drastic alterations to the rest of them. If I focus on his, I can finish in two days. Come back by then, so I can make sure about any adjustments."

"Wait!" Tim shouted, "I thought he had to wear like ten outfits."

"Yes and I said it should be done in two days." Marinette replied, "Thank you for stopping by. Next time, leave the attitude outside of my dressing room."

"Question." Damian spoke.

Marinette put on her best customer service smile, from the bakery, she could and asked, "Yes, Sir. How many I help you, today?"

Jason snorted and covered his face. Dick smiled at her sudden change in demeanor. Tim facepalmed. He knew it wouldn't end well, where Damian was concerned.

"Do you partake in the female sex?" he questioned.

Marinette blinked it confusion before laughing.

"No, I don't like girls." she answered.

"Married?" he continued.

"Nope." she smiled.

"Committed relationship?" Damian persisted.

"Nope." Mari spoke.

"A beneficial relationship?" he asked.

"No." Marinette replied, "Why all these questions?"

"All those harpies in the other room wouldn't shut up." Damain answered, "You barely looked at me."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't stroke your ego." Mari rolled her eyes.

"Maybe that isn't what he wanted stroked." Todd smirked.

Damian quickly turned and glared at his sibling, briefly catching the designer's blush.

'So she was staring. Perhaps she was only keeping up the appearance of professionalism.'

"Look, I've seen people, like you, who think because they look good, it makes them better than anyone else." Marinette answered, "Usually, they're a bunch of assholes, as you have proven. I prefer a man with taste."

'I look appeasing to her, but my behavior dissuaded her.'

"You prefer the men who open doors and pull out chairs; a perfect gentleman." Damian quipped.

"Fuck that!" Marinette shouted.

The Wayne boys couldn't believe their ears. They were so use to people demanding them to act perfect; even Bruce.

"At the end of the day, they think if they do that kind of stuff for woman, a woman should serve them behind closed doors." Marinette replied.

"You tried?" Damian questioned.

'What the hell did that bastard do to her?'

"First college boyfriend. Seemed nice and I was naïve. Later, I heard him tell his friends how I was 'bad in the sack'. I laughed in his face and said he was too much of a dick to even have made it that far. He got laughed at and said I was a bad girlfriend for not serving him." Marinette answered, "His friends asked what he meant, so I told them about his whole 'woman live for men-household outlook'. They told him his idea was outdated and woman aren't like that, anymore. If he wanted that, he'd never find a wife. Last I heard, his husband set him on the right path."

The Waynes began to laugh and chuckle.

"I prefer my men honest. I don't care if they can't cook, if they can't clean, but if they get on my bad side, they usually end up tied up and in a ditch somewhere." she declared.

Someone knocked on the door, before opening it. The Waynes noticed a blonde boy with his foot in a cast and crutches.

"Adrien Agreste!" Marinette shouted, "What the fuck are you doing here? You're suppose to be on bedrest!"

"The show." he whined.

The Waynes were astounded to see the tiny designer throw the injured party over her shoulder, like a sack of potatoes.

"NO!" he shouted, turning red, "Mari!"

"Bad Kitty!" Marinette scolded, "You are going to lay on that pull out couch you assumed I would use as a bed in my office. Natalie is coming to get you."

"Please, no!" he pleaded, "I'll be good! Don't call her! I'll be stuck at the piano again!"

"Bed." Marinette stated.

"Yes, Ma'am." he answered.

"And I don't want to hear one peep about my sewing or my mothering from you!" she continued to chide.

"Yes, Momma Mari." he answered.

Marinette walked out of the room. Adrien just waved as Marinette carried him away.

"Wow; she doesn't take no for an answer." Tim spoke.

"No wonder that other guy didn't do it for her." Dick laughed.

"Oi!" Jason hollered, "Hurry up and get dressed. I wanna get out of here and get some food."

The Wayne brothers walked out the door and stood guard. As Damian got dressed, he wasn't sure what to make of the designer. He thought she was the designer's assistant with how young she was, like all those meek women his father hired. His parents taught him how to read people and he couldn't do that with her. Marinette was fiery and spoke her mind. She had barely even looked at him, too focused on her task and numbers. She had laughed at him! He could only assume she had picked up her former model, judging by the cast, and informed him he was going to sleep.

He didn't expect to see her again on their way out.

"Hey, Miss Designer, do you know where we can find some really good sweets?" Jason asked, "Like a café or something?"

"Coffee, please!" Tim whined.

She smiled, "My parents own the best bakery in Paris. You can find it on Rue Street. You can't miss it. It's a white and black store front with gold letters."

Damian grabbed Marinette's hand and kissed it, "See you in two days."

"Little D!" Dick whispered in shock.

"My apologies." he smirked, "I figured it was better than a kiss on the cheek you are accustomed to since you do not know me."

Her cheeks bloomed pink and she quickly pulled her hand out of his grip. She turned around and ordered someone to get a pot of coffee started. Damian smirked.

'Seems she may just be as eager to see me again. A game of war, perhaps? Who would submit first?'

"Demon Spawn?" Jason questioned.

"I'm already fluent in French, but did none of you study the customs or culture?" He asked, "It's common here to be kissed. As I stated, I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. We get enough of that at those galas Father forces us to go to and I'm not going to be the reason Father gets called."

As they walked to the car, he could hear his brothers groaning on how it was common to kiss someone, mostly on the cheek. They had all checked their phones. It was fine to let them think that for awhile.

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