#yandere! damien x reader

[ijwrff]

Oh can I get a yandere Damien from Who Killed Markiplier oneshot?

@monster-scribe-tya @nerdqueenkat @serenitydusk @thattiredanimator1t0mblr

It had been a couple months since the first time you went to the Mayor’s speaking event. You asked him a question at one of his public speaking sessions, and he actually answered! He was so sweet…kind in general. It didn’t take long before you had gone to more…and more…and more of these sessions. Something drew you to him. And he was just so photogenic…

You weren’t necessarily a reporter, but you did like to take pictures of people. Their smiles, their frowns, their laughter. Damien’s smile was like no other. But despite not being a reporter or journalist…that smile seemed to have something behind it. What that was, you didn’t know. But you were determined to find out. 

You tried playing it off, but he seemed to always answer any and all questions you had. There’s no way…he wasn’t picking a favorite was he? What would you have even done if you were to become a favorite? You shook it off, feeling silly for thinking such. He was just doing his job. You think…but one way or the other, you came up with a simple solution to this. 

Follow him.

A simple solution, although you never would admit it was a twisted one. Maybe you’d make a good reporter afterall…you would follow him around for the next couple weeks. He never seemed to notice you there. Every once in a while, he would turn in your direction, and you’d turn to take a picture of the nearest cafe or even just a store. By the time you turned back, he’d be gone. 

How was it he always seemed to disappear the second you looked away? Maybe he knew someone was following him…no, he probably did know. He was the mayor. It would be foolish of him to not think someone was following him. He was often swarmed with people, and you snuck many pictures of him talking to the other townsfolk. It seemed to be the only time he didn’t disappear. When he was surrounded. 

You wanted just one…just one picture of him with a scowl. Irritation on his face. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so…he always looked happy to be there. He would look around every once in a while, as if looking for something. His eyes would land on yours through the lens of your camera, and you’d look away. 

Today, he was at another public speaking event, and you snapped picture after picture. This time he seemed caught off guard. He still smiled, but he seemed…distracted almost. He locked eyes with you, and tilted his head to the side every so slightly and smiled. Was he smiling at you? Or just trying to look good for a picture?

After a bit, he cut the event short, stating he wasn’t feeling so well. Now was your chance! He walked off after whispering something to his bodyguard, and the people in the crowd dispersed. For some reason, no one else was following him. Not even that guard. Perfect. You’d get your picture posted everywhere! A picture showing Mayor Damien wasn’t as perfect as everyone said he was. 

Where was he even going? He made a couple turns, and you followed behind a good block or two. You wanted to catch him by surprise. If all went well, he’d have a nasty look on his face, or even a picture of a cough or sneeze would suffice, and he’d never even know you were there. Every picture you’d ever seen of this man looked photoshopped as all hell. He looked fantastic. It wasn’t natural for someone to look so flawless. 

He turned down an alleyway, and you rushed to catch up with him. You turned the corner and…he wasn’t there. Where did he go? How did he just vanish like that!? Looking up and down the alley, you realized you were at a dead end. It took several minutes of searching, only to find a door to the next building over. It was locked of course, but it was the only possible solution to where he could have gone. 

You groaned, and gave up for the day. You’d have to find that perfect picture another time. Turning around, you were met with a sight…you really didn’t wanna see. A man was there, one you’d never seen before. He looked out of breath. He panted and looked around the alley for a moment, before locking his gaze on you. “Where. Is. He?” The man glared. It was terrifying. His voice was laced with venom, and his eyes were dark. He was clearly not messing around. What was he going to do to Mayor Damien? Sure you were borderline stalking him, but you didn’t want him hurt! 

“I don’t know who you mean.” You stood up straighter, and tried to look composed. Even though you were not. Not even a little. You attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed your shirt and threw you onto the ground, deeper into the alleyway. 

This…was not good. If he would hurt someone like the mayor, who’s to say he wouldn’t do worse to you? You tried to get up, but he slammed his foot down on your chest and kept you pinned there. Your camera was flung to the side, and it being broken was truly the last thing on your mind. 

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He put even more pressure on your chest, and you panicked. If you didn’t do something right now, he’d break your ribs. He leaned down to look closer at your face, and the pressure on your chest was reaching a literal breaking point. “I saw you following him, too. Tell me where. He. Is.” 

Your eyes were wide with fear of what this man would do to you. He was clearly not above hurting someone. “I-I don’t know! He disappeared! I think he’s in that building but it’s locked!” You didn’t want to throw the mayor under the bus, but this could potentially be a life or death situation for you. It seemed to be you or him. Besides, he probably had guards in that building he went into. You were out here alone…and something told you if you screamed? It’d be all over. 

You didn’t hear the door open behind the man, but you did hear a sound of something hitting the man on the back of the head. There was blood. So much blood…and the man’s eyes widened before his body fell limp on top of you. That was when you screamed, and all your tears began to fall. 

You shoved his body off you, as the blood dripped onto your chest and face. Scrambling backwards, you saw the sight before you. Damien was standing behind where the man was, and his signature cane was tinted red with the man’s blood. 

His look was cold. If you hadn’t just been threatened, you would see this as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of that face. It made your blood run cold. But that feeling only got worse when he took a step closer to you with a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, and took one step closer. You didn’t know what to do! The mayor of all people just killed a man! For…for nearly hurting a citizen. “It’s okay, y/n.” He shushed you as you cried, and sat on the ground in front of you. He didn’t care if his suit was now cakes in the blood. 

“Mayor Damien?” You looked everywhere in the alley. Everywhere but at him. Your gaze kept returning to the body. It looked awful…like a person…but unmoving. You have seen dead bodies on TV, but never in person. Especially not so close to you. 

He reached out a hand to you, but you didn’t take it. “Yes?” He looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes, but you were too scared to look. You didn’t want to see the face of a man who had just become a murderer. 

You tried to breathe steadily, but it was easier said than done. “How…do you know my name?” And at this point you did look at him. His face was appalling. He looked so unfazed by this! 

He looked shocked. “Ah…I see. I shouldn’t know your name, correct?” He leaned closer to you, and you were too scared to move back. He carefully placed his forehead on yours, which made you shut your eyes quickly. “Well you see…how certain are you…that you’re the one that’s been following me, and not the other way around, hm?” 

His words struck fear into your heart. You scrambled back as far as you could, as he stood up to follow you. There was only so far you could go, and eventually your back hit the fence. He had a point, and that’s what made it even scarier. 

All the times you lost sight of him, you never once thought to look behind you. All the times you were running through the streets in search of him, you always seemed to discover his location rather easily. All this time…was he really following you?

He clicked his tongue, and held up his cane, clearly ready to strike. “Let this be known, my love…this is the first and last time I will ever harm you.” And swung his cane down onto your skull. 

You fell over, and the pain sent a burning sensation throughout your whole body. Vision going blurry, consciousness fading…body numbing…what was he going to do to you?

As you succumbed to the feeling of the darkness around you, he spoke. “In fact…no one will hurt you, ever again. I promise.” 

[jokingmisfit]

I Just (Don't) Need Help (Part 1/2)

Yandere Batfam x Disabled Female Reader

Warnings- disabled reader, manipulation, reader is in pain, very light yandere themes

Notes- The disability isn’t named because I wanted to make it as inclusive as possible, although it is heavily based on my experiences because I only really know what I’ve experienced. The reader and Damien are both high school seniors, cause I said so. Reader lives alone because who needs parents?

It was the pain. That God awful pain that made you unable to eat, or sleep, or think. Everything in your body screaming at you to quit and give up, but also begging for help. In the end, however, there was nothing you could do.

You've tried, God did you try. You tried to work through it. You've tried to get help, but person after person, and doctor after doctor ignored your pain, ignored your symptoms and left you stranded in this unbearable hell. 

You just wanted peace. You just wanted to live without this unending pain. You found it confusing how a human can constantly go through so much pain and not die from it.

You were behind in school. You've lost another job. You were so goddamn tired. 

You pulled the phone off your in-stand. Sending a quick text to your friend Damien. You ask him if there were any important notes you missed at school and if he felt like sending you a picture of them. You let him know you’re fine, just sick, and hoping that’ll calm the quantity of texts he has sent you.

You have to be careful with him, Damien, he's easily irritated and highly intelligent. You’ve told him about your disabilities, but  you try to not let the pain show. You know he knows something, because he'll press you for information on yourself and stare you down when you refuse to do certain things. He knows it’s worse than you let on, but he doesn’t press like the others.

The text was only slightly changed from one you sent a few weeks ago. You didn’t have the energy to write a whole new text so you copied an old one, only changing it so Damien didn’t catch on and think the flare up was too bad. 

Despite only taking a minute or so, it already took all the energy you had left in you. Throwing your phone to the side, you tried to get comfortable, and you drift right back to a restless sleep.

~

A loud pounding woke you from your queasy rest. You wondered if you could slip back into that sweet dark nothingness, but with the noise being made you knew it’d be useless.

You’d gathered all the bearings you could, and a blanket for good measure, and made your way to your front door. Before you even got there, however, it was already opening. You stood there deadpanned as Jason looks up at you from his bent position; clearly finishing picking your lock. 

Dick smiles at you with an awkward laugh and greets you. “Heya… sorry for the intrusion, princess.” He chuckles nervously again. “Damien said you skipped school and stopped answering his texts and everyone got pretty worried soo, here we are!”

“Yeah, okay.” You say with a sigh and go sit on your couch.

Jason and Dick share a concerned look at your exhausted form. Frowns perching on Jason's face, and a worried smile on Dicks. 

“Sooo,” Jason started. “You feelin alright there, doll? Ya look pretty… bad?” He awkwardly asks you.

He and Dick sit on the couch with you while Dick quietly scolds him about telling you, you look bad. If it was for the lightness in your head you’d laugh a little at the brotherly behavior, but for now you opt to lay your head on Jason's shoulder once he’s settled on the seat.

“t’s jus a flare up…” You whisper out to them.

You really didn’t want to have a whole conversation. The urge to down all of the pain medicine in your cabinet comes back up. The need to just get the pain to go away. No, you didn’t want to die, but you wanted the pain to stop. You wanted to be able to appreciate your friends coming over to check on you. With all the overwhelming symptoms you couldn’t appreciate much.

With your eyes closed and head on Jason's shoulders, you had missed another look Jason and Dick shared. A mixture of annoyance, concern, and dark thoughts showing clearly through their eyes.

“Didn’t you go to a doctor for that?” Dick asks you with an irritated tone.

“Said he doesn believe me…” You tell him. “Think I wan drugs or somethin.”

Jason scoffs loudly at this. “You’re a drug seeker now huh?”

“‘Mm parently.” You reply.

Dick moves closer and rubs his hand lovingly across your back. You humm with appreciation at the action. Your exhausted form relaxes a bit more into the soft cushion. You move your head and hide it a bit more into Jason's chest. 

“Maybe,” Dick starts softly. “You should come stay with us for a while?”

You sigh in frustration. “Already told you guys ‘m not gonna use you like that.” You state angrily. “You’re my friens not a resource for me ta use.”

“I know, I know!” Dick defends, throwing his hands up in defense and laughing nervously. “It’s just, we’ve got tons of money and can get you an actually good doctor. Y’know one that’ll actually listen to your needs, birdie.” He explains passionately.

“Besides,” Jason chimes in. “You’re like family, hunny. We want to help you out. And Alfred has been dyin to see ya again.”

“I don’t wan to…” You tell them.

Jason scoffs. “Why not?”

This situation was too much for you right now. The pain you felt weighed you down and made it harder to hold yourself together. The little bit of poise you had was bubbling off you like melted flesh leaving you at the barest version of yourself, and that self was angry and confused.

You didn’t get why every time you got sick or had a flare up they got like this. Urging you to come live with them ‘cause “it’s easier” and “they can help” or because “you a kid” and “you shouldn’t be living alone”. What do they know? They were adopted by a billionaire and have a huge family. They don’t know what it’s like to feel the way you do. Of course some things they understand, but a lot of it seems they don’t.

It was irritating for them as well. They want to help you, but you always refuse. It always ends in an argument and you push them away for a while until you forget why you were mad in the first place. It was a tiring loop that everyone was becoming sick of.

You lean forward and out of both the mens touches. “I don‘t know why!” You sluggishly shout. “I jus don’t wan to. I don’t know why it’s always a fight with you guys… Jst let me rest please! I’m in pain ‘n all you wanna do is try and hold a conversation that we all know will only end in irritation.” You breathlessly tell them.

You stand on unsteady feet and start walking back towards your room. The stiffness and anger making you feel even worse.

Why can’t they try and see things the way you do?

Of course, they were wondering the same thing. Dick stands up to follow after you. Matching glares enter the brothers eyes as they mirror your steps. Determined to not give up this time when you clearly need them.

You’ve already buried yourself in the bed by the time the two come to your doorway. Honestly you were a bit surprised when they came to sit on the edge of your bed. Well, at least Jason did. Dick crawled over and layed propped against your headboard next to you.

“Okay… Maybe we’ve been a little too pushy.” Dick says.

“Maybe?” You ask glaring up from your covers.

He laughs at you. “Okay, okay, I get it! We’ve pushed too far… It’s just- it’s just that we can get you the help you need, and it’s not like you’d be staying forever. Just long enough for you to get a proper diagnosis and medicine or whatever to make things easier.”

The change from joyful to melancholy in Dicks voice had you feeling guilty. The way he poured out his heart into people never ceased to awe you. You shift to sit up more against the headrest. Jason’s hand found its way to your calf where it rested casually.

“You know we don’t want to force you to do anything. We’re just so concerned for you. We know you’ve been alone for so long, but you don’t have to be anymore.” Dick says love shining in his eyes. “I know you think needing help makes you weak, but it doesn’t, and what’s family for but to be there for you when you are. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve been completely consumed by worry for you.” His brows furrowed as he explains.

“Just long enough for you to get to feelin better. That’s all we ask, doll.” Jason adds on.

“Jus a little while? That’s all?” You ask hesitantly.

“Just for a little while, princess.” Dick answers.

You nod slowly and whisper an “ok”. The two men were immediately in motion packing you a bag. You sat up more and assured them you could do it yourself but they hushed you in excitement. Jason asked you if there were any specific things you wanted while Dick filled a bag with clothes.

All in all time moved swiftly as the two moved like practiced dancers. Within minutes dresses and sentimental items were pulled from their proper places placed into bags and moved out of your home. Dick picked you up despite your demands to walk and brought you to their car. The two of you were followed closely by Jason who carried the last bag of items you’d be taking with you to their homes. Claims to come back for more were made by all three of you as you left the rest behind.

It didn’t take much for you to fall asleep in the back of the car. The rumbling and pain induced heaviness lulled you to sleep like a baby in a cradle. Because of your peaceful rest your arrival at the manor was kept relatively calm so as to not wake you. Bruce coming out to carry you to your new room while the other two grabbed your items. Tim checks the camera placed in the bedroom to make sure it’s operating and Alfred prepares a simple snack for you to eat once you wake up.

[impish-baby]

Can we get more from that angsty family drabble? :3 maybe your big sister goes and tells her dad now how you treated her and how pop pop threatened to kick them out and he is NOT happy?

Villian and violent - platonic yandere estranged family x reader - 🧸

"Lizzy's crying."

Paul raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his son, not really caring in the slightest.

"Is that right? Sucks. She shouldn't be causing problems if she doesn't want to be told off." The older man shrugs, going back to piling food onto the plate in his hand. "I wasn't kiddin', by the way. Your mother is the one who invited you, not me. You can get lost for all I care."

"Really?" Damien sighs roughly, dragging a hand down his face. "What she do that was so bad, huh? You're not even giving her a chance, pops."

"You didn't even wait to get the full story before running off to defend your little girl?" Paul scoffs, shaking his head. "Figures. You know, I thought maybe you'd be more interested in seeing your firstborn again, don't know why i was foolin' myself knowing your track record."

"...bug is here?" The hopeful tilt in Damien's voice is unmistakable, "Y- You're serious? Where are they-"

The plate isn't even sat down that loudly, but it still makes the man flinch.

"You," Damien shrinks away at his father's cold glare. "Ain't talking to them. We don't need you ruining things for the rest of us. Again."

"That isn't fair." It is in a way, but Damien doesn't want to admit that, not now. His kid is here. His baby. He needs to see them before the chance is gone, "I'm their father, I should be able to speak with them."

"An idiot is what you are." The older man scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Shirley barely convinced them into coming, and they tried to bolt as soon as your lot showed up. You're just gonna muck it up more than it already is."

Damien storms off, fed up with the conversation already. It doesn't matter, there's more important things to do than argue.

[maveras-posts]

Hello. Can you write yandere art the clown headcanon ? Pleaseee🥺

I love clown🤡

You asked my child and you shall receive so:

Art teh Clown YANDERE

Yandere Art Will INCLUDE:

Art first laid eyes on you in the street after that he stalked you and watched your life from afar

Art gets this crazed look and smile on his face when he starts thinking about you. It terrifies victims more…

Be careful of who you talk to he is extremely jealous, you’ll turn on the tv just to see a news report of the poor soul who was in your presence

Seriously you’ll hear an angry horn ✨HONK✨of disappointment

He once destroyed a squishmallow because you said it was cute (bro tried to patch it when you cried it made it horrifying to look at but you kept it)

When you finally are allowed to go out don’t be fooled he knows everything!

Art keeps a schedule he follows to know your steps everyday

When he finally gets you, he spoils you with gifts and treats (it can be overwhelming)

He took you and locked you up for months

He brought you all the things he saw you liked (totally didn’t dig through your house 🥴)

A part of him felt guilt of taking you from your life (I mean the mofo is out at night doing ✨ClOwN Tingz✨)

When he finally let you go he was shocked to see you comeback with bags to stay with him

You ended up enjoying his company and attentiveness Toats not stockho— (Art shut me up on that one😨)

He takes your socks bruh—

Art has even taken a lock of your hair, he loves anything that reminds him of you

Art will cover you in bites and hickeys to show others your his

May or may not have carved “ART” on your thigh 🫢

He’s gonna use his strength against you too, be prepared to be thrown around like a ragdoll

Basically show your devotion to Art and he’ll let you be ✨FREE-ish✨

At the end of the day he’ll be mainly concerned that you’re safe and stay his only (please don’t fight his love it will upset him)

[dickgraysonass]

Shatter me in pieces

Batfam x neglected reader. Part 3

Warning: neglect, child endangerment, not proof read

Summary: maybe the night isn’t so bad after all( last part of the flashback)

“ what the hell are you doing kid?”

Thats the first thing you hear from cat woman that is now towering above your sobbing form.

Your crying stops turning into the form of ugly hiccups as you look up in aww at her. You don’t respond to her question but only stare for what feels like a eternity, you almost swear you could hear your tears dripping down onto the ground like a rainy night .

You snap out of it , remembering her question that you had forgotten because of shock and you scramble to answer it .

“ well i just -, im not-i was just-” you stumble over your words as you try to speak , only managing to further fumbling over your quivering lips.

You would of never thought that one of Gotham’s well known and prettiest( in you opinion) criminal would out of nowhere start talking to you so it caught you off guard. You had never spoken to her before or really know a lot about her, only hearing about her icon look in papers and small comments from your father.

Over your incoherent rambling on what had happened you stopped upon hearing an annoyed sign from cat woman , making you hyper aware of everything .

Your tears dripping onto the floor , cat women’s gaze on you , how your hands clenched on your side or how you were slightly shivering from the autumn weather and your face felt like rubber unable to change your face from panic and suffering , your face feeling a bit too hot as if you were a cartoon character about to burst from anger , how runny your nose had been and how alone and desperate for love you felt.

The only thing to keep you warm was a small black scarf around your neck That was wrapped a bit too tightly for your comfort.

You were weak, unlike your brothers. You had always known that , from the time that your mother got thrown into a mental hospital to well now.

You thoughts t were interrupted by a hand waving in your face , it was catwomans. She had offered her hand up to and you were not about to refuse now.

“Get up , don’t keep me waiting kid. ” she said her voice a hint of annoyance but her face seemed more say than annoyed . You take her hand and it feels awful warm despite it being covered by a latex glove. Not in a bad way tho but the kind that feels that would give warm hugs.

You never knew why she wore all latex because to you it would be very uncomfortable and inconvenient bur at the same time you couldn’t really judge because your adopted dad was a middle aged billionaire that dresses up every night to fight crime in Gotham and never fully stops them because of “morals”.

Standing up is only there when you notice that she is a lot taller than you thought, you were up to her waist at the most.

“ thank you” you tell her shyly, you didnt why you were thanking her but you just wanted. You stood tall , looking around smong the awkard silince .

“ there is nothing to thank me for , i did nothing”

You could feel catwoman trying to analyze your face till something clicked inher mind.

“ hey” she calls making your eyes meet “ your one of bruces waynes kids no?” She question with curiosity. Her statement made you pause, freezing in place . You had thought that everyone had forgetten about you even the villians.

Even tho you knew it was dangerous engage with a villain but you responded either way( she looks nice enough).

“ yes ma’am thats me”

“ im ganna ask you again and give me s starighg ansewr wlrght “ she comads , her voice authoritive yet consuered

“ im not sure myself , i guess i was bieng dramatic” you chuckled to yourself , hoping she wouldnt pry and make you confess your dramatic reaction to bieng pushed out the way.

She signed dramatically putting her hand on her forehead as is she was getting a headache. “ fine if you don’t want to tell you dont have to. Just stop sobbing like a baby , its anoyying.” She exclaimed

Her eyes wondered around you before kneeling down to get on your level.

“ i see your feeling a bit down , why don’t and you and i take a stroll around Gotham, what do you say” said says , her voice a calm and soothing tone. You didnt know why but you let your guard only respond in a reluctant hum.

“ well i dont think my fathe-” you were intrupted by catwomans voice

“ listen kid, if he really cared wouldn’t he be with you”

The silenced that follow after wards was ver loud but oyu knew she was correct. You had been out and away from the gala for over 20 minutes and no sign of them. None of them .

So in that moment you accept. Noone else had comfort or even checked up on you like that in years, no even alfred.

That night she took you all over gotham. From quickly (and nicely) robbing an icecream stands and eating it on a roof top to going to going to one of gothams only beachs that luckly wasn’t literally with trash. She even gave you a toy of your favorite charcter that tou had talked about . You didnt have the heart to tell her that you had bought your own toy of the same kind.

Throught the night you got to know quickly a lot about her like how she was a mob boss once or that her sister was driven insane. You too shared personal stuff which took a invisible wieght off your shoulders and you started to feel like you too started to bond.

She offered to take you back home herself but you refused in fear of the off chance that she would try to rob the manner or that the cameras surrounding the manner ( installed by Bruce) would see you guys. You had her drop you off a few blocks away and you watch as she hopped from building to building like a sly cat tho you knew that she had followed You the whole way home, keeping you from getting robbed on that Gotham night. You never really knew why on that night she helped you out and you never got a chance to ask her after that.

Once bruce and your brothers came back from the gala they asked where you had gone and you told them a cheap answer on how you got tired and decided to walk home. You knew that bruce didn’t fully believe you l, if he was then he wouldn’t be greatest detective in Gotham maybe even the world but none of them asked for another answer.

It has been years since that night and your relationship with your “family” has gotten worse.

Part 4

Im soso sorry if its late but something happened and but here you guys are also tysm for the support that you guys have given me. I love you guys✨✨❤️

Also i think il be making a tag list just because it seems like quite a lot if work and im still new to this app but il still try to tag the people that want to

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Bee's And The Bats!

☆♡Yan Batfam x Bee! Reader♡☆

"Too bad I can't make a career out of getting fired, right? I'd be like, a CEO or a manager. Which one's more impressive? ...President?"

You and Damien are 18+. That goes for anything I write regarding him.

I will be following comics, the web series and possibly a bit of the Netflix version. Shout out to @hana-no-seiiki for making ☆Superb!☆ headcanons themselves! Check them out!

-

Damien Wayne:

The Wayne heir had decided to rent out a apartment, wanting to have a bit of independence, maybe even a little space from the world. In his own solitude when his pets couldn't provide affectations at the time. Or if he couldn't travel back to the manor soon enough due to injury.

Today was just.. Not a good day for Damien.

He was tired, restless, maybe even angry.

He decided not to head back to the manor after patrol, wanting to clear his head and not get into a argument with anyone regarding his behavior.

Dressed in his civilian attire, he walks up the apartment complex steps to his room floor. Stepping onto the carpet covered hall, he pulls out his key.

Listening in on his neighbor, who was conversing with someone, Damien unlocked his door.

"Are you you gonna be-AHOF!!"

"OH MY GOD!"

Damien quickly turns around, expecting some type of altercation!

Yet is suprised to find a man around his age wallowing on the ground in pain, in front of your door. He could even see the man's tears staining the floor.

Your voice shouts beyond the door.

"Oh my god! Oh, oh my god. Ah, wait, ah...ooh, ah, I have, uh, stuff for your stuff!"

Your footsteps heavy and clear again once near the door.

"I got you some ice for your crotch! I'm shoving the crotch ice under the door!"

The man leaves, quickly scurrying off with ice between his.. Private area.

Leaving behind a small pink box wrapped in a plastic bag.

Damien places his keys back in his pocket, stepping over to your side of the hallway. Knocking on the door so the food wouldn't go to waste.

The two of you stare at one another curiously.

When Damien first met you, he thought you were weird. Close to, "possibly another villian in the making" weird.

You kept to yourself, along with a strange little cat-dog creature of yours.

But, he found you charming in a way, you were impulsive, selfish, a glutton. Yet you were realistic, someone he could and couldn't understand.

You were nice as well, rather kind. You saw him as friend the first day you met Damien. Offering to share some lasagna with him and your "puppy-cat".

He started to seek you out more, finding your presence a tad thrilling.

What made you tick, why were you so space-casy, what thoughts ran in your head when you saw good in others?

The blood-son wanted to know and he'll find out.

[Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I kinda made this for fun and I really like seeing Bee!Readers! So here is the first installment of this, (possibly) series!]

[propertyofkylar]

midnight visitor (m!yandere incubus x gn!reader)

you meet damien at a club and are instantly entranced by this handsome stranger. but not only is he equally entranced with you - he has some secrets to hide.

cw: yandere, nsfw, alcohol mention

The bright lights and loud music of the club swirled around you. It would’ve given you a headache if you weren’t just drunk enough for it to be enjoyable.

Truthfully, you weren’t much of a club person, but today being the birthday of your best friend was reason enough for you to let loose for once. So here you were, surrounded by people on the dance floor.

You took a step back and cringed almost immediately when the heel of your foot came into contact with what clearly was someone else’s toes. You whipped your head around to apologize and found yourself face-to-face with an incredibly handsome man.

The frown on his face quickly faded as he eyed you up, flashing you a smirk. Your breath caught in your throat - the man was beautiful, and you were only human, after all.

“S-sorry,” you managed to get out, but the smirk on the man’s face only grew. You took in his long, dark hair, his defined cheekbones and the way his eyes seemed to be a dark red. But that must’ve just been the club lighting, you figured.

“S’alright,” the man said in a smooth, deep voice. He held out a hand. “You can dance with me to make up for it.”

“Um,” you felt your face flush. You weren’t used to this kind of attention. “Okay, sure.”

His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you close, the two of you moving vaguely to the loud music. It wasn’t like skill really mattered on the dance floor, anyway.

“I’m Damien,” the man said with a smile, and the look in his eyes made you realize he didn’t plan for this to be a one-and-done sort of dance. Not that you minded - your friends might be annoyed if you ditched them for a guy, but you had been at the club for a while now, and your group of friends had spread out, so they might not really mind after all. Besides, you had seen your best friend making out with an unknown woman in the corner just 15 minutes ago, so she had no room to speak.

You introduced yourself and Damien watched you like you were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. His stare was…almost enchanting, in a way. 

What a weird thing to think, you mused to yourself. Maybe you were drunker than you thought. 

After the two of you had danced for a few songs, Damien took your hand, sending shivers through your body. “You look tired. Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to an empty booth nearby, and you nodded.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said as the two of you left the dance floor and sat. He smiled at you and you felt that enchanted feeling again.

Damien laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them, looking at you like you were the only other person in the building. You weren’t necessarily an unconfident person, but frankly, you really weren’t used to this level of attention, and it made you blush. “So,” he said. “What brings you here tonight?”

“My friend’s birthday,” you gestured vaguely in the direction you had last seen her. “You?”

He gave you a smile that you couldn’t quite place. “Just…looking.”

“Oh. Oh,” you said, as you caught the intention behind his words. “Um. Well, I mean I’m flattered, but I’m not really—” 

Damien’s low chuckle cut off your rambling. “Relax. Not like that, so don’t worry.”

“Oh. Um, okay,” now you felt kind of stupid. You were making a fool of yourself in front of the hottest man you’d ever seen.

His eyes looked into yours before he spoke again. “You seem like you’ve had a long night. Would you allow me to take you home?”

If you had a drink, you surely would have choked on it. “I only live a few blocks away. It’s okay.”

Damien gave you another smile. “Even better. I can walk you home. Trust me, I’m a gentleman. No funny business,” he splayed his fingers as if that was proof.

Maybe it was the number of drinks you’d had, or maybe you just made impulsive decisions. Either way, you agreed, and the stranger walked you back to your apartment.

The two of you chatted idly along the way, not really talking about much. When you made it to the front of your building, you pointed and said, “This is me.”

The man looked down at you, and gave a soft smile. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, which felt more intimate than if he had kissed your lips, somehow. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured, but it felt like he meant something more.

That night, you were having the hottest wet dream of your entire life.

The handsome man from the club had his face between your legs, and grinned wolfishly before diving in, licking and sucking in a way that gave you pleasure like never before. “You taste so good,” he murmured, and the vibrations from his low voice sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Fuck…” you mumbled. At your response, you could’ve sworn you saw Damien’s eyes flash blood red. A small part of your consciousness knew it was a dream, but it felt so real. And so, so good.

One moment you were whimpering and squirming, clutching Damien’s hair as you moaned his name, then the dream suddenly switched and his form was looming over yours, looking not unlike a hunter sizing up his prey.

You felt something against your thigh and looked down to see his thick cock pressed against your leg. Your eyes met his and he smirked.

“Don’t worry, I know it’ll fit,” Damien snickered as he rubbed the tip teasingly against your entrance. He moved his head closer to yours so he could press kisses to your neck, before suddenly biting down. Hard. 

You squealed, twitching in a way that bumped the tip of his cock on a sensitive spot and made you squirm even more. “I don’t wanna wake up…” you mumbled, desperate for more.

Damien chuckled again. “Mm, they always say that.” And with that, he plunged his dick into you with a gasp.

It was a dream. You knew it had to be a dream. But it felt so real. And it felt so good. You were whining as Damien pounded into you relentlessly, his own face bright red.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

You weren’t even able to form a response; you just laid there as he fucked you better than anyone had in real life.

“Hah, you’re taking my dick so well,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to clench around him. “Feels like you were made for me, doesn’t it? Feels so good…”

His words, coupled with his earlier acts, brought you close to your peak. “I’m–fuck–I’m gonna…” your words were interrupted as he touched a particularly sensitive spot inside of you.

“That’s a good pet,” Damien grunted as he slammed into you. “Cum for me.”

And you did, crying out his name as you came undone. But he didn’t slow down at all. If anything, he moved even faster and harder as his own climax approached.

“Fuck!” Damien yelled as he thrust his cock as deeply as he possibly could inside of you, gripping onto your waist as he came. Breathing heavily, he pressed a kiss directly below your ear and said your name quietly. It sounded so beautiful coming from him. 

“I’m gonna have to come back for seconds,” he said with a laugh.

When you woke up in the morning, the dream was nothing more than a hazy memory that you couldn’t recall no matter how hard you tried. All you knew was that your legs were sticky and there was a dull heat throbbing inside you.

At that moment, entirely unknown to you, Damien himself was pacing back and forth on the rooftop of your building.

Damien prided himself on many things. He was a confident man. He was incredibly charming and equally as handsome. He could get anyone to do anything he wanted. He had been a demon for a very long time and had spent many, many nights hunting down prey, visiting them in their dreams, and taking what he needed from them to survive. This was how it had gone for many hundreds of years (he had lost count at this point). It was simple, there was no attachment, and he never struck the same victim twice.

Until now.

He cursed to himself as he walked to and fro, deep in thought. You had stood out to him at the club, naturally - he was not one to take on just any prey. No, he had specifics in what he liked, and always got what he wanted. But there was something different about you. Something that he couldn’t quite place, something that sent shockwaves through his body every time he thought about you and how you had behaved in your dream.

Damien should have known you were different from the instant he smelled you at the club. You had smelled like the most mouthwatering dessert to him, and that is when he knew you would be his pet that night. Actually getting to taste you, though, was something he had never experienced. Imagine the most delectable meal you have ever had, and then multiply it by five. That is how you tasted to Damien. You were so soft, so sweet, so tender. 

It was maddening.

He had to have you again. He knew that, at least. His mind was overwhelmed with millions of thoughts rushing in, all of them centered around you. How he could see you again. How you would taste and feel in your dreams again the next night. How he could make you permanently his.

That settled it. He would have to visit you nightly and keep an eye on you during the day too to make sure no one else had you. You were going to belong to him and him alone. Damien knew at that moment he would do whatever it took to make sure you were his. 

A grin slowly grew on Damien’s face as a solid plan formed in his mind. He whispered your name into the wind, savoring how it felt on his tongue.

When he was finished, you would never think of anybody else.

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Welcome Home (Darkiplier x reader) Part 4- A moment too late

“It’s uh, wonderful to meet you too Damien.” You said, smiling back. Wow, was he gorgeous... You could go on for eternity about how perfect he was. “So tell me, does somebody as enchanting as you have a partner, perhaps a boyfriend or girlfriend?” He asked, inching just a tad closer to you. “Oh no, I haven’t been in a relationship in a while.” You answered, staring into his eyes. They were a sharp icy blue with an abnormal soft glow to them. 

It was almost hypnotic. “Well if you’re available, perhaps we could go to dinner this evening? My treat of course.” He offered, taking your hands in his. It made you shiver. Why were they so frigid? Your mind told you to decline, to pull your hands away and just run. Yet your heart said otherwise, everything about his eyes, his smile, his..face. It was all so beautiful, so alluring, so secure, so..familiar. It was practically impossible for you to decline.

 You were hanging onto his every word. “I’d love to go out with you, Damien." You answered, smiling at him. You exchanged numbers and parted ways for the time being, but you just couldn’t wait to see him again. 

You entered the manor giggling while texting on your phone. Your joy faded when you were met with Mark looking at you. His face was a mix of concern and disappointment. “Where have you been for the past half an hour? You said you were going to help out but you just disappeared. Plus you’ve been acting weird since you got here and avoiding me.” You frowned. “Is it your business?” You questioned, glaring at him. “..What? I guess not but it’d be nice to know at least. Look, whatever's going on, you can tell me. We’re still friends.” Mark said, his tone becoming reassuring. 

“Oh please, don’t act like you still care, Mr. big-shot YouTube star.” Mark's eyes widened a bit. “Is that what this is about? You’re being dramatic." You shoved him aside. “I don’t wanna hear it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date to get to.” You said, looking at your phone again as you started walking past him. 

Mark took a glance at the profile picture of whoever you were texting. His face paled. “Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel left out or anything of the sort. But I don’t think you should go on that date." You ignored him and just continued walking upstairs.

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

Mark stood nervously, thinking about what he should do. There was no way he’d found his way back again, right? He put his hands into his pocket and his expression paled. Everything in there was gone, except his phone. 

But how the hell- the apprentice.

[mothgodofchaos]

The line from damien video, actor mark saying "acting like you dont have blood in your hands!" to damien makes me imagine that our sweet beloved mayor isnt so sweet... so may i request a horror damien? Something like how sinister he can really be when he put his mind into it :)

Sweet

I got several requests to continue my Yandere Damien idea, so I hope this answers your ask sufficiently! The mayor has a habit of letting his influence get to his head, and not caring about who is off limits to him.

Damien x GN!Reader, TW: possessiveness, hypnosis, stalking, yandere Words: 692

You were so good for him. How he’d offer his hand to you and you’d take it with a smile on your face, his arm being a perfect perch for his little dove. How pretty you looked in your gilded cage of peppermint steam he created around you, how sweet you sang only for him. He cherished you, let you flourish, in all the ways he allowed you to. You’d sing along to those old croony tunes he loved on the record player, how he could watch you sing for hours.

But others started getting suspicious, how could they? They were just jealous of how much he loved you, wanted you for themselves. But he didn’t have time for such people, and neither did you. Did they not know how important he is? Only he held the key to your cage, and he was going to ensure it stayed that way.

“I heard you, Mark. You know how the papers are, they write rumors, hoping they catch on, and then they launch an investigation if it gains enough traction. Simple solution: squash it out when it starts.”

You overhear him speaking in his office as you make his morning tea, and something in the pit of your stomach says that this is important, that you shouldn’t just brush it off like you normally do. You know that Mark is one of his close friends, a friend from his childhood. But the way Damien spoke, it felt unnatural, like sharp talons grazing slightly up your back, a small suggestion of the pain he can inflict if he so desires. “I’m having my men take care of it this evening. No one will notice a thing, and those who do, won’t say a word. Not if they don’t want to go the same way as this nosey reporter.”

No, something is deeply wrong. You drop the spoon you were holding onto the ground, making a noise of surprise that seems to get his attention. He hangs up the phone and you hear the click of his cane against the hardwood floors, sending a chill up your spine instead of the usual warmth that it typically brings. You jump when he enters the room, eyes wide with fear. 

“Something the matter, dearest? Something concerning you?” Damien tilts his head at you, taking slow but deliberate steps towards you. You turn around quickly, backing up against the table, looking to the doors, seeing if there’s any quick way out. Surely you could outrun him if you needed to, he has a bad knee after all. “Were you eavesdropping, dearest?” His tone shifts, a darker sinister look in his eyes as he encroaches in your space. Bodyguards fill the doors with their shoulders, blocking your exits as you glance around, trying to look for another way out. “N-no Damien, I’m j-just tired- I-” He uses the head of his cane to lift up your chin to look into his eyes, the once inviting blue now a sharp icicle piercing through you, searching for evidence of betrayal. You watch as he sticks his hand into his pocket, the pop of a cork, and a small glass vial is shoved under your nose. You try to push him away, but he blocks you against the table. “Deep breath now, come on, no need for those dangerous thoughts of leaving. You're safe here, dove. My sweet thing…” The sweet smell of peppermint overwhelms your senses, making your brain fog until you no longer struggle, the smile returning to your face. He cups your face, his expression softening to the same inviting, charming smile he usually greets you with. “There we go, isn’t that much better?” “Y-yes, I was jus-” “Shhh, it’s okay. I know it’s scary, but you’re safe here. With just me.” He accepts you into his arms as he begins humming a sweet tune, one that you continue as he just holds you, bodyguards resuming their usual positions. 

He doesn’t have blood on his hands, he must keep his perfect white dove innocent and safe. But he has no issue in ordering subordinates to do it for him.

[jokingmisfit]

Sorry I've been out for a while (gone since feb 12th smh). I almost became homeless and I've been looking for a job (I got one). I also have to get another procedure done(woohoo disabilities). I'm still honoring the poll I did for what I should post next, but I am making it self indulgent by writing the reader with a disability, cause my life sucks.

[ambientgateway]

Bugbear/Damien (SSLG) x overworked!Reader

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

You've been quite not like yourself lately. You don't go out to the usual spots you like, nor do you hang out with your precious bugbae as much. He obviously noticed that. USUALLY you two are constantly together, and when you're not, you are. You just can't see him (or he is out "feasting"). Quite a lovable stalker. The boogeyman noticed that you're more stressed than usual, but you brushed it off, telling him not to worry. He decided to listen, but now he thinks it wasn't such a great idea.

Midterms. They came so soon, you didn't even have time to prepare. You feel terrible. From one side, ITS MIDTERMS, you wanna study, but you can't brings yourself to do it, due to being overwhelmed. It is constantly on your mind, and yet you can't do anything because of this anxiety. Isn't it strange how we work? We stress abnout something, and yet we can't even start because of the stress. and then end up doing everything the last minute or not doing anything at all and feeling like shit. Why does everything has to be so stressful? To be honest, somedays it's like death isn't as scary as failing. But that's ridiculous. You shouldn't think this way. Perhaps you're just burned out.

*squeak*

Without having to turn your head towards the sound, you already know who this is. It is Damien Bugbear, your partner. Suddenly you are tackled in a hug and spun around!

"i missed youuu" he says in a sing song voice, finally putting you down. "I noticed that something is wrong, need some help?"

you can tell by the look in his eyes, he knows.

As you nod your head in approval, he ushers you to bed and covers you in blankets. "stay here, I'll bring you some snacks"

after a few minutes of just eating and chatting, of taking your mind off of stress, he asks "Why haven't you asked for my help? we could study together you know?" he says, his smile looking....softer? Maybe your is just playing tricks on you.

"No need to stress out. Having problems is normal. Life is meant to be enjoyed" he says, while nuzzling into you. You pet his head (ears) and relax in his presence. "I will help you with the material and then we can summon some evil spirit in potion class :)"

As you two study, he reminds you to take breaks and drink (your preferred beverage). It is certainly better with him nearby. "Don't give up yet, we've got so much to do after the midterms ^w^" he says, looking into your eyes. He knows. "I will always be there to help you, wether it is studying or killing someone who bothers you." *He hugs you again, in a bearhug. "Just hold on for longer. It will be over and will eventually pay off. we still have time, we always do. Just relax and enjoy your life. Don't bother with stress. If you feel like crying, then let it out. if you're feeling rage, go beat someone up ^w^. I want yuou to be happy, and I can't help but be worried when you're feeling not quite like yourself. I will always be here to help you get your groove back. I am always here for you."

[cookie-crumblr]

OC Damien CHARACTER SHEET

———————————————————

Sex/Gender:

AMAB/Male

Relation:

Bought you at a pet show

Age:

10 years older

Dom/Switch/Sub:

Dom

Height:

Whatever makes him huge compared to you.

Likes:

beer, competitions, his motorcycle, his son

Dislikes:

disobedience, lazy people

———————————————————

Brief Mental Description:

Works hard on his farm. Once he CAN relax he DOES. Watches tv and drinks in his spare time. Riding his motorcycle and weekends with his 8 year old son are his favorite things. along with you now.

Brief Physical Description:

Pig hybrid. Farmer tan. cute piggy-like ears. Pretty big guy, both tall and wide. salt and pepper dark hair. brown/black eyes. muscular and dad-ish bod.

———————————————————

[der7py]

Yandere Ceo x reader

Damien Sanchez. Easily one of the world'overs biggest ceo owners ever, owning nearly over 50 companies, and being married over 42 different times since he was 18. It was no shocker. He was incredibly crude and stuck up to all of his employees. But he's more soft towards you, little butterfly.

Warnings: Mature language, age gap, implied murder, work abuse, unfair amount of power in the work field, degradation, Slight babying if you squint, unfair treatment, favoritism

Working for the Damien Sanchez was definitely an opportunity you didn't want to pass! Even if all former and current employees were strongly advising against it.

You worked as a receptionist in one of his companies on the first floor. Apparently, each floor was something completely different than the last! But it was advised in the rules you mind your own business on your own floor.

You barely ever saw the boss. But it was fine! You made bank as a receptionist, so running into the boss wasn't really any of your concern. He probably wasn't even that bad!

That was until you heard a strong voice yelling at another employee from the 5th floor.

Apparently, his coffee wasn't brewed right, and that warranted him firing the employee on the spot. Soon, the elevator made a ding, and the big man himself stomped right over to you. You could've sworn all of the employees scattered like rats.

"You! Yes, you! Go brew me a dark coffee. None of that sweet stuff now get going or so help me god I'll fire you too!" You immediately ran to the closet coffee maker to make it for him. You had bills to pay!

You rushed back over with his coffee, where he was impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. You were surprised you didn't spill it everywhere, or fall straight on your face the way you practically threw it in his hands.

_______________________

He sipped his coffee, clearly taking his time while you squirmed under his gaze. Jesus, he really was intimidating with how fast your job could be on the line. "Mm... good job. What's your name?" He asked, raising a brow at you and your squirming figure. You immediately straightened up, letting out a silent sigh of relief. "Y/n Mr. Sanchez!" He nodded his head, snapping his fingers as he drank more of his coffee. "How unique. Anyways, you're moving up in the ranks, kid. 10th floor as my new assistant, get your bags." Without another word, he walked to the elevator and took it all the way back up.

Holy shit. Holy shit! Did you just get promoted?! This job was even better than what you thought! You wasted no time packing everything up and running to the elevator, a big grin on your face. You were eating good this week! As you checked your phone to tell your friends and family the good news, you forgot you had an article about your boss pulled up.

It was no surprise to anyone that your boss had been married 42 different times. You did admire him for his pull game, but figured he had bad luck. Maybe they were all gold diggers! But apparently, people had theories of what really was happening. All of his spouses mysteriously disappeared a few days after Damien and his newly wed spouse got married. Then he'd get all the inheritance money and whatever companies they owned, considering all 42 were rich. Some people were theorizing, he murdered them. Man people were crazy with their conspiracy theories.

But you remembered you never did see the old assistant leave the building.

_______________________

He liked how eager you were to take the new position as his assistant. Maybe you wouldn't fuck up as much as his old assistant. The old bastard could barely make a coffee for him.

You took your new role very seriously, and he appreciated that about you. Even if the other employees picked on you for being relatively young. They all disappeared anyway.

Over the few weeks, he found himself drawn to you. You were his little butterfly. So full of life unlike the other scum in all of his companies.

He made sure to be extra careful and lenient with you. Oh, you accidentally misfiled an extremely important file? Oh, it's fine, darling. He used to make that mistake all the time.

Oh, you spilled coffee on his brand new outfit? It's fine, little butterfly, he has the same outfit 5 times just in case.

But anytime, any other employee dare make a mistake as little as dropping a staple while he was walking? Fired immediately. What were they thinking? Idiots.

You never noticed how much more soft he was with you. And he was determined to keep it that way. He didn't want you getting hurt over any special treatment you definitely might be receiving.

He felt alive with you. Hell! Sometimes, he upped your pay just because you smiled at him! You really were a precious angel that needed to be protected. A butterfly with delicate wings.

Just quit researching about his past spouses' disappearances, or else he'll have to clip those pretty little wings before you fly too far and find out what really happened.

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten. 

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close. 

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back. 

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear. 

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide. 

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

 But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show  up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore? 

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf. 

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

[on-leatheredwings]

False Pretenses (18+)

Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader

romantic, 18+ > summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that. > tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning. > word count: 5088. jesus christ. > [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ] > again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21

So, Damian has a breeding kink.  

You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.

The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events. 

Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end. 

Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.

Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated. 

The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.

Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.

He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.

Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present. 

Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!

Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard. 

You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom. 

It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.

Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose. 

Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.

Ugh. Damian is so cool. 

You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.

Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.

You blink dumbly.

Breeding... breeding…

Pregnancy.

Your body stiffens. 

Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.

At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.

At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.

He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.” 

“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.

Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”

You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.

Damian stirs, blinking at you.

You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”

How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.

… Well. 

Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy. 

Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.

Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.

Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful. 

“... Is that something you want?”

You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.

“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek. 

You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.

“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?” 

You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.

Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.

Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks. 

You nudge him with your feet.

“Damiii. Do you?”

Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.

He retreats, licks his lips. 

“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.

“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes. 

He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright. 

“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”

You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.

… 

So, for the record, Damian did not lie. 

He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth. 

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that. 

… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals. 

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window. 

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.” 

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision –  Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat. 

Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.

His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month. 

It all works out. 

It’s perfect, he thinks.

Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.

“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. 

You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening. 

“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”

"My love."

“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”

“My love,” he repeats, though amused.

“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”

“My love.”

Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book. 

Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.

You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.

"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”

An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.

“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”

“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours. 

“Tt.” 

Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.

You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.

“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”

He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work. 

“It’s Habibi, coming from you.” 

You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights. 

“... And I mean, I want all of you.”

Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.

You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.

You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.

"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.

Damian tensed. 

"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.

You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.

"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–" 

His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.

“No.”

You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion. 

Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?” 

"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.” 

You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed. 

“... Because?”

Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile." 

You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself. 

Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense. 

"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief. 

Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.

“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.

Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.

Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.

"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one." 

He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know." 

Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.

"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."

Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow. 

"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.

The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him. 

“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.” 

You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.

Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.

“Damian, really.”

Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.

You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation. 

As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination. 

“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish. 

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws. 

Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.

You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.” 

You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”

“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.

You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally. 

“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement. 

You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.

There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.

Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.

“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there. 

“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.

Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening. 

You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.

Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this. 

“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.

“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning. 

“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.

You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal. 

You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation. 

“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.

“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained. 

You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.

“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.

Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.

Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.

"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears. 

He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press. 

“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.

“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.

“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.” 

You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.

“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…

His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.

You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.

To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.

Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.

He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.

“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.

You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now. 

“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.

… And wet. Wetter than expected.

You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.

You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.

… No, like, you’re really wet. 

You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.

“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real. 

“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.

You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke. 

“Damian. It broke.”

You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.

Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile. 

You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke? 

You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.

“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”

You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod. 

“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.” 

Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”

With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you. 

“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”

Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly. 

To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says. 

His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles. 

It’s impossible.

[klemen-tine]

Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)

Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI

TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.

In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.

In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@testishere

Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 

Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 

E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 

“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 

The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 

“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 

“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 

“All of them.” 

“...what?” 

“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 

“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 

“Let's leave tonight.” 

“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 

“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 

The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 

Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 

“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 

“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”

“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 

“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 

Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 

+++

She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 

Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 

A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 

“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 

“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 

“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 

Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 

Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 

“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”

“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 

“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 

“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 

“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 

Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  

“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 

“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 

“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 

“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 

“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 

“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 

“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 

Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 

Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 

“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 

Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 

“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 

When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 

Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 

“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 

“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 

“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 

Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 

“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 

He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 

Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 

“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 

“And what about you?” 

“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 

Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.

“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 

It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 

Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

++++

It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 

However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 

Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 

They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 

They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 

When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 

Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 

Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 

Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 

He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 

In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 

Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 

“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 

Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 

Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 

After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 

The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).

This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 

Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 

“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 

He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 

“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 

Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 

‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 

Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 

Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 

They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 

“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 

“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 

“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 

“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 

Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.

Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 

Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 

He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 

“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 

Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 

With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 

“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 

She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 

“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 

“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 

Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 

Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 

To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 

Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 

“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 

“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 

The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 

He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 

That they are the Wayne family. 

God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 

“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 

“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 

Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 

‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 

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Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.