#batman forever reader insert

[simpingforblackfire]

Nah I’m good: Part 1 Platonic (yandere?) Bruce Wayne x f reader x (romantic) Sugar

A/N: Heads up I may post this to my ao3 Homoeroticmicrowave so if you see this on that account there than it isn't fic stealing please don't come for me there

Tw: mentions of suicide, joking about suicide, references to suicide, sexual content, smut

Chapter 1 of Nah I’m good: Day so far from 1 but also so far from being day I get to retire

Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your hand shook. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It had been kept tensed long past cramping as you repeated the same action with it over and over and over. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your eyelids trembled as it seemed that the part of your brain that focused on keeping them open began to shut down. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your vision blurred as you saw more of your eyelashes than your surroundings. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your peripheral had been completely blocked out by exhaustion. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your eyes and the delicate flesh around it felt like it was corroding. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It was as though the bags underneath your eyes had clamped onto your waterline and hung onto it with such a grotesquely heavy weight that it dragged your eyes down. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your eyes burned so much you thought about just plunging pencils into them and scraping them out of your sockets. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat.

The scanners, the printers, the typing of computers, the all too loud and ignorant obnoxious chattering of particularly unaware men too loud to hear the grit toothed mutterings of their co-workers quietly demanding they shut up. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You found yourself being one of them sometimes. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You had a painful headache that felt like your head had been bashed against a lampost. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. With the amount you had been drinking last night you wouldn't have been surprised if it had been. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You couldn't remember a thing from it. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It was like one minute you were at a bar and after some kind of haze like a dream you couldn't remember but you knew you had you were awake in bed. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. All the sounds around you seemed to merge together, twisting and morphing into one jarringly caustic humming sound that ached your ears. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. All while you had to do the same thing over and over and over again. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. How many times did you have to repeat the same, stupid action over and over again. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. The same action. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Who knew just one action when repeated over and over could bring a person to the brink of some kind of border between absolute boredom and ecstatic insanity. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It was no wonder Gotham had so many villains. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Your hands itched to tear themselves away. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Do anything, anything else. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It didn't matter what, not anymore. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You dreaded thinking of doing this one action ever again in your life. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat.

This wasn't your usual job. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. At least it wasn't supposed to be. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. This shit wasn't in the contract. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. At least not when you read it. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. But when you brought it up, apparently it came under 'being prepared to do necessary work'. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Of course you don't get paid extra for this. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. No you see you only get paid for what you were hired to do. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. This was not what you were hired to do. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. What you were hired to do was assist your 'chief scientific officer' in whatever project they were leading as well as pitching your own ideas (so the credit may be snatched up by said chief scientific officer) and stapling pages together was not shown on the list of duties you got paid overtime to complete in the job description. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. In fact you didn't get paid overtime at all. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Anyway this particular task of stapling a seemingly endless pile of papers together was not your job. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It was actually Marvins. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. See Marvin wasn't the big bad around your workplace but he was your boss and that meant he got to be an asshole. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. So now Marvin was getting paid for work you were doing while he slacked off. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You understood why people murdered other people. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. If you were a killer Marvin would be at the top of your hit list. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You regretted that you weren't. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. Now you never wanted to see another stapler again in your life. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat.

How many times had you repeated the motion of grabbing two papers together, sticking them in the stapler and pressing down on it harder than you should have needed to because it never stamped easily. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. That stapler really should have been tossed in a bin years ago. For a piece of equipment that no one bothered to replace, it seemed to be one that everyone needed to use. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. The stapler made a creaking noise as you pressed on it before it finally actually stamped down and you could hear a distinctive click. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You never wanted to hear any of those noises again. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It felt like something was gnawing away at your eardrums and slowly ripping the back of your brain a part. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You just wanted to go home at this point. Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. It felt like the only pronounced noise through the buzzing of your surroundings.Press. Stamp. Click. Repeat. You wanted to scratch at your ears until they were so bloodied you couldn't even hear the noise in your head anymore. Press. Stamp. Click-

You felt something touch your shoulder.

You physically jerked, flinching away from the sudden contact and snapping around to face whatever had touched you. 

"Sorry, I didn't startle you did I?" the woman smiled, her eyes intensely fixed on your agitated ones "I didn't mean to scare you"

You stared stunned and stupid for a moment before saying "No, um you're okay, I was just pretty consumed by....stapling"

"Right" the woman's smile never left her face and despite how awkward you felt you couldn't say her smile was even slightly condescending, though it was definitely more than a little amused.

"Hey um" you rubbed the back of your neck "have I seen you anywhere before? You look kind of well- um familiar?"

That actually prompted a laugh from this woman as she said "You might have"

You furrowed your brows, creasing your forehead and no doubt making yourself look as old and ancient as you felt in that moment of tiredness. You definitely knew her face from somewhere. She just stood there smiling at you and then like a train, realization smacked you in the face. "We met last night- didn't we" her expression didn't move "in that bar"

The woman chuckled "you make quite the detective" her little smile didn't seem to falter an inch even as she spoke her next words "I didn't realise I was so forgettable"

You flushed, pressing a hand to your forehead to massage it "Look I am so sorry- I was very- I'm very out of it right now and my heads a little fuzzy- I'm sorry I didn't well-"

The woman cut you off with a giggle "hey it's alright, so was I. Besides I wouldn't have expected to see me here either if I were you, though I am a little offended you forgot so easily"

You inwardly groaned "I'm sorry-"

"No" she interrupted you "I was just teasing you, besides" she reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, smoothing out the fabric of your shirt with her thumb "I can always remind you".

You felt your heart spark with a jolt and you swallowed hard. Your tongue felt heavy with a lot of things that you thought but your mouth felt too dry and your throat too closed up for words to come out. You felt like the part of your brain that had been malfunctioning had now just been kicked so hard it shut down completely. 

Before you could find a way to wiggle your way out of the discomfort of this interaction, your least favourite catalyst for making situations somehow worse came to you in the form of one of your bosses "ah if it isn't my favourite, little employee”

You had to stop yourself from hunching over and burying your face into your hands as you heard your boss speak in a disturbingly cheery voice. You knew it was one of your bosses who was more higher up the chain (Mr dickface Reynolds) by the sound of his voice and you knew that there was no doubt that your bosses boss was trailing behind him because your bosses voice was cheery and Mr Reynolds did not experience positive emotions, or any emotion outside of anger. His favourite hobbies included crushing the hopes and dreams of fresh faced interns by sucking the potential and passion out of them until they were long past crying at night and just became empty husks held together by bitterness and antidepressants.

”Mr Wayne allow me to introduce you to one of my finest employees”

’Finest employee’ yeah he wasn’t heading towards you then.

A cold streak shot through your back and you stood up stunned straight as you realised he was right behind you. Your boss proceeded to slap on the back in what was likely supposed to be friendly gesture but was actually just a direct hit to your spine. It took you every ounce of your will power not to curse out a string of vicious language.

'Oh what an absolutely, great opportunity to meet with the CEO of the company I work for.... Just wish I was just a smidge less absolutely jackhammered for it'

You heaved in a breath before turning around with a plastered smile on your face. You tried not to wince as you saw your CEO’s outstretched hand and suddenly all you could think of was whether or not this man washed his hands after using the bathroom. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Wayne” you spoke as sweetly as you could to make up for any looks of disgust you might accidentally be sending his way. You met his hand halfway to reciprocate the handshake and as your hand made contact with his there came the horrific thought of ‘even if he does wash his hands- which he likely does considering the clean state of his nails- how many peoples hands had he shaken before yours? How many of the owners of said hands washed their hands before going to the bathroom?’ You kept your hand loose in his but he just didn’t seem to drop the handshake and suddenly not only was he now just holding your hand he was placing a hand on your shoulder and smiling at you. 

“The pleasures all mine. I’ve been following your work, it’s very impressive. I expect we’ll be seeing great things from you in the future” 

You kept smiling but became distinctly aware of how violated your personal space was right now “Thank you sir”  

Mr Wayne thankfully removed himself from your personal space after that and you mentally praised the Lord for a moment, having found religion in the few seconds wheee you decided to beg whatever entity might be out there to just please get this man to remove himself from you.

You felt like lasers were being burned into the side of your head and you looked to the left of you to see Mr Reynolds eyes wide and manic like they were torn open.  He was giving you a hard stare as if to say ‘don’t mess this up’ his toothy smile resembling more of a gorilla baring it's teeth than an actual person who was trying to genuinely be friendly.

“I hired this one myself” Mr Reynolds puffed out his chest with a gleefully high pitched voice. You held back a scoff at that. Mr Reynolds name might have been on the paper but it was one of his assistants that hired you not him. (Linda, lovely woman actually she made you eat the food she brought in sometimes after being stricken by your poor diet habits. It was really nice food she gave you as well you just wish she didn’t keep asking if it was good every time you finished a bowl and then when you said it was she’d say ‘eat’ and stare you down until you did) “I have an eye for potential you see”. 

Mr Wayne seemed to also be holding back something close to an eye roll like you when Mr Reynolds got into a ramble that was essentially just him floating about himself and how good he was at doing things.

You let out a breath of relief through your nose when you heard Mr Reynolds declare ”Anyway we shouldn’t stay here too long, you are on a schedule Mr after all Mr Wayne and there is much to be shown!” 

Mr Wayne gave you one last polite smile before following Mr Reynolds to wherever the hell he was dragging him off to next. No wonder Mr Wayne rarely visited the lower floors you would too if you could. If you had to see Mr Reynolds pretend to be happy and excited every day you would take to tucking yourself away in a cushy office to avoid him at all costs. You never would have thought you’d actually prefer to see Mr Reynolds angry than fake happy.

You turned around to see if that woman was there and (just as you figured she would have) she had disappeared. You had no idea at what point she’d slipped away it was like she disappeared the moment you turned your back on her. You couldn’t blame her for it though Mr Reynolds had a way of scaring women away. It was like his speciality. 

Just as you thought you might finally be able to find peace and go home you heard “Hey newbie” one of your technical bosses (Gavin the worlds biggest douchebag who had definitely been name checked in at least 3 peoples suicide notes in the time he’d been about) slammed a horrendously large pile of paperwork in front of you “can’t fit this in my schedule bit since you look about done here you’ll be able to fit it right” Gavin didn’t even give you a chance to speak before winking at you and saying “thanks newbie”. You hadn’t been ‘new’ for two years. Gavin was just an asshole.

It was at this point where you really considered to be a definite fourth person to name check Gavin on a suicide note or to just become a murderer and kill him because whatever the consequence to that was it was worth it. You rubbed your face groaning as you couldn't help but let your brain wander to the events of last night with this woman. 

You don’t remember how or when exactly but at some point you had been drinking in a bar and then at another you were talking with that woman. You remembered when you looked in her eyes you couldn't help but be reminded of bubbles, as her whole body seem to glow with this bouncing, child-like aura.

At some point you two ended up leaving the bar together, arms linked and leaning on each other as you relentlessly giggled. Your memories were blurry and didn’t seem to patch together right but you two went from holding hands to swinging your entwined hands and then you two decided it would be far more fun to spin around in a circle while holding hands.

 Her laugh seemed to fly through the air and you couldn't help but grin at her, her face was so bright and careless and full of bustling life and it was like she could spin you both far away into the sky if she wanted to. Despite how it may have felt she didn't spin you into the sky. She actually ended up spinning the both of you into the ground though, but the moment you looked at her and saw she was smiling. 

You have no idea how you managed to make it to her house in one piece but judging by the way you ached currently it may have been one piece but it was a severely battered piece. When you got to her place she decided the party didn’t have to end at the par and she put on music. You certainly go a kick out of that. You remembered swaying stupidly to the music as you got closer and closer to her and than you were real close, like really, really close. Even through your hazy, stuttering eyes you could make out little details on her face. You felt like you didn't need to blink anymore, like your eyes could never dry up, not when they were swimming in the colours of hers. Glints of glowing white dotted her eyes and it made it look like the stars were dancing in them.

You didn't even register what you were doing entirely before you were leaning past the boundary of innocence and your lips were on hers and you found very quickly that you weren't looking for a peck. A moments kiss was not merely enough for you and the little length a part you were was too much and you needed her closer. Your hands found her waist, fingers shaking while gripping her with a vulnerable excitement and you felt like your hands were tingling as a warmth pounded in your chest when your fingers found the gap between her shirt and skirt, where skin was exposed. Her hands gripped your face and you felt her nails softly scraping down the side of your cheek and you couldn't help but think what her nails would feel like digging into and running along your back. You couldn't help but pull her closer by her waist so you were pressed up against one another. You felt her lips part against yours and you let your lower lip fall loose and you felt like you were boiling as her tongue slipped through your lips.

Breathlessly desperate and wanting you pulled away for a moment. Your eyes opened but only by a half and they immediately fell on her eyes that were only just flickering open to meet yours. Her eyes darker than they had been as her pupils were now blown wide with a rushing lust that you were sure matched yours. Fuck you wanted her.

 Scratching, scraping, bruising. She marked you with an evidence of her and you found yourself kind of hoping it would linger. Your eyes were shut for most of it but whenever you did open them all you felt your heart spike as you saw her. Hot and wet and heavy with want.

You thunked your head onto your desk and groaned before throwing yourself back against your chair and huffing as you stared at the ceiling. That memory stung in your mind as sharp as a hangover. You were so fucked. 

It felt like an eternity just to get through half the mountain sized pile of paper work that you swear to god was swaying from the sheer height of it. You had been patted on the shoulder by a total of five of your coworkers on their way out who pitied you enough to cause your shoulder ache a little more but not enough to help you out with the obnoxiously large pile of paper work stacked on your desk curtesy of Gavin. By the time you finished it your hands had cramped at least ten times and it seemed no amount of massaging would bring back feeling into your hands. All you wanted was to just flop on your bed face first and sleep and then never wake up. You trudged into the lift at the end of the room. You felt like you had just experienced the longest day of your life, but finally you could go home and not have to deal with anyone else's-

"Hold the door!" your CEO was now surging towards you, his arm outstretched to catch the door. You briefly considered letting the door close on him. It was a very tempting thought and it called to you so sweetly you couldn't help but consider it.

”Thanks” Mr Wayne smiled at you. Of course you had to hold the bloody elevator you’d be screwed if you didn’t. 

“Don’t mention it” you gave a quick tight lipped smile back before turning to face the closing doors.

You felt your headache buzzing slightly as the lift started going down. ‘It’s okay I’ll be home soon. I’m almost home. I’m going home now. I am leaving this building now’ you chanted in your head soothingly.

The lift suddenly shook violently and you were nearly knocked off your feet in shock as the lift shuddered and thrashed, releasing a loud screeching noise as it did like a scream before coming to a halt. Your heart scrambled in your chest and you stuck out your hand to lean against the side of the lift. You whipped your head to face Mr Wayne and he seemed to be just as white in the face as you felt. 

Yeah…you didn’t think elevators were supposed to do that.

A/N:

I love Drew Barrymore's Batman movie. I don’t remember anything that happens in it but I remember that Drew Barrymore looked very good in it and I was mildly afraid of Nicole Kidman as a kid but in a way that made me like her more. I feel like if Nicole Kidman was a bad guy in it (like I originally thought she was going to be as a kid when I first watched it) I would have probably liked her a lot more. I don’t know what that says about me but I’m sure it will be fine. 

Btw I haven’t revised this so this is a little note saying that I may or may not edit this later depends what wins embarrassment or laziness (likely the latter) anyway here’s a reminder that I do not take criticism because I cry both easily and a lot (that is a joke but also no it isn’t).

Btw if you could reblog this that would help me out xx 

#batman #bruce wayne #platonic yandere #platonic yandere Bruce Wayne #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman forever #batman forever sugar #Sugar x reader #fem reader #reader insert #reader is female #reader is a cynical bitch #yandere batman #platonic yandere batman

[jasonswhitetuftofhair]

“Come at me, Baby”

Characters/Pairings : Jason Todd (Red Hood) x female!reader.

Synopsis : Jason and Reader spar and after training things get steamy filthy.

Content Warnings : SMUT. Slow burn. Poor writing. Lots of plot. Training/Sparring (reader learns combat). Curse words. Pet names. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Protected sex. Size kink (barely noticeable). Oral (fem rec.). Fingering. Dry humping. Use of object as toy (Jason uses a muscle massage gun on you). Vaginal intercourse. Light bondage (Jason ties your hands w/ resistance bands). Reader insert (sorry). Aftercare.

Fandom : DC, Batman.

Word Count : 5202

Author’s Notes : First fic I’ve written. Like ever. Also, this is a repost; I originally posted this for the first time in October 23’ but I deleted it in December 23’ due to insecurity.

This week had been tiring. Multiple meetings, a lab breakout scare, a few late night patrols all on top of studying the material you’d been given had started to add up. All you wanted was to retire for the night, go to your room and take a nice, relaxing, long, hot bath. Gorge yourself with junk food and put your show on, and then sleep like the dead. But no, tonight called for an evening training session with your training instructor.

Jason. Jason Todd. Before you had entered the gym, you weren't sure if you would be up to train tonight. But watching him enter the double doors with his hot-as-hell all black tactical pants, skin tight athletic t-shirt and combat boot ensemble quickly made you reconsider. As if it was hard.

Ever since Bruce had finally gotten Jason to accept his proposal of conducting training sessions with everybody, you’ve been feeling like a sitting duck. You had been trying to hide your feelings from the older vigilante for a while now. A while as in since you first arrived at the manor. Nearly eight months had you been stumbling around whenever he was near, barely making eye contact and feeling like an idiot because of him. And you had been succeeding, too! Barely, but still. He didn't know anything and now with your new arrangement, how could he not pick up on the vibes you were sending out? It was only a matter of time before your feelings were compromised and you were left heartbroken and feeling like a fool, your friendship with him long gone.

It wasn't so bad, though. You had always been good at adapting and Jason wasn't necessarily bad on the eyes. It was kind of fun, too. His little dry humored remarks, shared inside jokes and just…him, made him good company. After all, he was your friend. You haven't known him long, but it still felt like you’ve known him forever. But that was the problem. Your friendship with him was too much of a treasure to have it be risked just because of a little crush. You’d rather be plagued by the overwhelming melancholy of your predicament than not have him at all. If the only way you could allow yourself to indulge in the feel of his hands on your body was when he was training you in combat, then that was something you were okay with settling for.

“Earth to Y/N. Um hellooooo, you there?” Jason’s equally teasing and concerned words pulled you from your trance you hadn't even realized you’d fallen into.

Your embarrassment quickly appeared on your face and didn't go unnoticed by him. “Yes! Sorry, I’m here.” Having been snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed that Jason had you held against him mid-air. You threw a punch at him, but he of course dodged it so you did what you first thought next. You tried to kick him in his side but he quickly grabbed your ankle and gently but strongly twisted it so that your body changed direction. Before you could lose balance and fall he grabbed your other thigh and caught your body against his, holding you to him. You didn't react at all, though, and his initial thought was that he crossed a line he didn't know of and did something to upset you. He called your name and you didn't answer the first time so he paused the lesson and brought you back to him.

He was a little worried, honestly. He knew you to be like this, often catching you staring off into space and likely daydreaming or stuck in deep thought. It was your expression, though. The mild sorrow, a little bit of adoration shining in those pretty eyes he loved so much, too.

“You sure? We can take a break if you need it,” he offers, gently smiling at you, “is everything okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asks worriedly. Gazing into his eyes, your heart almost swells up. He looks so genuine, like it would hurt him if he hurt you and you let yourself pretend it's for other reasons. “Yes, I’m fine, promise. Just have a headache s’all.” It's enough to relax him just the slightest but he doesn't believe you. Your body language is just not convincing enough. He finally puts you down and lets his eyes skim all over you. He tells himself it's to check for signs of discontent or injury, but he knows he can't lie to himself. Youre just too fucking beautiful. He shakes himself out of it before the blood rushes south and gets back to the lesson.

“So. You really need to get out of the habit of kicking. It can't be your first instinct, sweetheart. You're exposing an entire limb to the enemy and you're not skilled enough yet to counter whatever it is they plan on doing. I know it's hard, but you need to really start implementing your upper body strength,” he explains to you, occasionally letting his fingers linger on your skin when showing you what the enemy could potentially do to you. You truly appreciate how gentle and accommodating he is when it comes to teaching you. You’ve seen him train with the others and sometimes his harsh tone is enough to make you jump even when his words are directed to someone else. He’s been so patient with you and the thought of him going out of his way to train your aversion-to-fighting self makes your heart flutter. You nod along with him, letting him know you haven't gone off to La La Land again.

“Alright. Come at me, honey,” he orders while positioning himself in the default defense stance. Legs strong, but ready to move. Arms by his side ready to catch and balance. Core strong and taut, chest puffed. Eyes on you, just as he likes it. He finds it adorable how clueless your little expression is. Eyes wandering all over the place, arms trying to find a good way to support yourself and legs waddling to their correct position. Like a baby deer learning how to walk. He hears your little words of encouragement to yourself and watches your eyes, watching the gears turn in your brain. While his focus is stuck on your pretty face, he doesn't notice your left hand curling behind you while you spin yourself around, pressing your back to his front. He grunts and catches your right hand before it can land around his bicep. You quickly move your feet backward and jump behind him, putting all your strength into kicking his back hamstring, but he’s already several steps ahead of you. He turns around before your foot can land and grabs your ankle, destabilizing your legs and grabbing your wrists, holding them tight in his right hand.

This of course leads his mind to other things, things that would involve this very position. You curl your leg around his stretched leg and twist your body around, landing you on top of him. Your legs straddling his abdomen and palms resting on his waist. He doesn't mind at all, though and senses a pause in your movement. He notices your tired expression, your flushed face and neck, the sweat on your hairline, neck and brow. You jump, as if just now realizing the position you had him in. You move to sit next to him and he moves into a sitting position, no longer back to floor. You flash him a cheeky grin, happy with yourself for winning this time.

“Did I do good?” you ask him excitedly and he chuckles, your pretty little smile having caused his heart to skip a beat. ‘Did I do good?’. That phrase would be on repeat in his brain for a little while, he could tell. The way you seeked his approval caused his groin to stir and he stood up, quick to distract himself.

“You did. I’m proud, that was much better. We’re gonna focus on your upper torso, now, okay?” He guides you to stand and places his hands on either sides of your shoulders, guiding you to stand in front of him. “I'm gonna throw at you, and you're going to block them.” He playfully wiggles his fist in front of you and you grab onto it giggling. Oh how he adores that sound. He sneakily aims and his fist appears next to your collarbone, you move your body out of the way. He does it again, this time it comes next to your left shoulder. You grab his wrist with both hands and block it. He doesn't miss the way you needed both hands to wrap around his wrist. He moves again, fist to the right of your face. Your eyes widen and he shushes you and you relax. You both know he wouldn't make a move to successfully cause you harm.

This goes on and on for what seems like forever. Your stamina has dwindled down a while ago and he can tell how tired you are. He thinks about cutting training early, but for his own selfish reasons he decides against it. He doesn't want your time together to end. Still, you're barely putting in any effort and you're certainly not trying to hide it from your instructor. His eyes haven't left you since the session began and he was very pleased with all the intel he’s received. Your short, panted breaths. The way your cheeks and neck flushed with that pretty shade of pink that suited you so well. Your wide eyes, how they seemed to sparkle under the annoyingly bright lights of the gym. How they seemed to water whenever he stared into them for too long. Your wobbling lip whenever you got a little too into it. How you went out of your way to put both of your hands on him, regardless of if it was beneficial or not. The way you didn't even move out of the way of his punches anymore. You just watched the muscles of his arms flex and wished they were around you instead.

“You gotta put in some more effort for me, princess. I know you can do it,” he tells you, cooing at the way you whine at him, silently wishing he would end training early. He chuckles. “C’mon, block em’, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and try to muster up whatever strength left in your exhausted body. Your hands meet his and successfully block a hit. He doesn't forget how you rolled your eyes, though. What he wouldn't do to have you bent over his lap for that. He finishes with the punches and leads you to the equipment.

He stands you in front of the power rack looking thing, gripping your waist and holding you up, waiting for you to grab onto the handles on top. “Chin-ups. Fifteen of em’,” he tells you and you groan. He knows you hate chin ups. “Tsk, tsk. C’mon, princess. Don't make it twenty. These help with your shoulder and bicep strength. Use an underhand grip, palms facing you.” You sigh and get into position, starting what he told you to do. You made sure to be as dramatic as possible, though; you were too tired to keep the brat in you at bay. Jason, on the other hand, doesnt try to hide the way he is blatantly staring at your ass, thighs and waist. He burns the image in his mind and moves closer to you, holding onto your waist to make you feel secure.

You huff and sigh out, hoping he’ll give into you. Throughout the entirety of the session, his hands have been on you. His breath has been on your neck. The feel of his body on yours. Him in your proximity. It was frustrating. Having him so close, but far away. Little did you know he felt the same. His hands move to rub encouraging circles into your hips and you whimper out loud, to your embarrassment. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk, though. Once the exercises are done, he holds onto you, purposefully moving his big hands to rest on your ass, bringing you down. You’re done with his teasing and turn around, pressing your palms flat to his chest and keeping him at bay. You signal with your eyes that you’re not in the mood for the teasing and he coos, holding your face between his two hands. “Is there something you want, baby?” you whine and cry out for him trying to hide your face into his chest but he only lifts your chin back up so he can see you. “Come on, sweetheart, if you want something you have to ask for it.” “hmph! I want you to stop teasing me, Jason!” He smiles wickedly and lets you go. “Training is over,” he states simply and you sigh contentedly, walking to the locker room.

Before you can open it, though, Jason’s hand wraps around your wrist and you turn to him. “You didn't actually think I was done with you, did you?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He opens the door to the locker room and guides you into it before locking the door. In an instant you're pressed against the door, cold wood on your back, and Jason’s mouth on yours. It's not much of a fight for dominance, his tongue having beat yours instantly. It feels heavenly. Not just the feel of his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours, but finally all this pent up tension leaving your body. You sigh into the kiss, Jason’s hand comes up behind your neck to grab the hair at the base and you mewl against him.

You were losing oxygen and his kisses traveled from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, the sweet spot on your neck. His big hands wrapped tightly around your waist and the feel of his open-mouthed kisses on your neck has your jaw slack and breathing uneven. He smiles at the way you look like a puppy with your open mouth and panting, practically drooling.

“This okay, sweetheart?”

You were practically soaking through your panties by now and the tenderness of his words and low pitch of his voice certainly wasn't helping. You nod a yes and throw your head back at the feel of his harsh sucking on your neck and collarbone. He growls and spanks your bottom, “I need words, Y/N,” he commands and you whine out loud yet again. “Yes! Please, need you, Jason,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Carrying the two of you, he picks you up and holds you against him. Your legs wrapped against his waist and he sits down on a bench, you still on his lap. His kisses don't stop and the feel is euphoric. His hands haven't stopped roaming your body. The feel of his big hands groping at your soft, supple flesh through the clothing separating you from him combined with just…him, was damn near enough to make you go crazy. You were tugging at his hair and pressing your face against the crook of his neck, desperate to smell his pheromones and your soft lips pressing kisses of your own against his neck had him hard against you already. When you felt his hardness against your tummy you gasped and tugged on his hair a tad bit harder and he moaned against you. Little curses left his mouth and you were seeing stars. Nothing had barely even happened and you were already this close to being admitted into Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly his hands paused their movements and his tone became one of seriousness. He grabbed your chin and forced your face towards his. Your pretty little glossed over eyes shining up into his had his breath hitch and for a split second he forgot what he needed to do. He could see the curiosity on your face, your teeth tugging your lower lip and he had to avert his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. I need to tell you something. I-I like you, Y/N. And not just in a friendship way. I understand—” he started but you cut him off, lurching towards him even more and grabbing his head between your hands, kissing him with a force you didn't know you could possess. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he let you have control this time. Not for long, though. He grabbed your hair into his fist and you gasped. “I-I like you, too, Jason. Have for a while now,” you mumbled against him and he grabbed your plump bottom with both hands, bringing your body flush with his. This only fueled the fire, though; his rock hard cock straining against his pants feeling your core against him had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, trying to control himself a little bit.

“I like you a lot, Jason. A lot a lot,” you whimpered against his lips and he smiled. You could see the genuinity in his eyes and the softness in his smile. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead and then one on your nose and finally one on your lips. “I'm glad, sweetheart. Very glad,” and with that he grabbed your hips and shifted your legs a little bit. He forcedly rocked your clothed cunt against his hardness and your eyes closed, head tossed back. It was almost too much, too fucking much. You had been teased all night long and with all this foreplay you weren't sure if you would last. You tried to paw his hands off of your hips and stop your movement, but you just weren't strong enough. His devilish grin staring up at you, his pretty girl, had you whining and grow the ache in your pussy. “Stop, ‘s too much, stop, please, Jay,” you begged against him and all he could do was smile. “Stop? You want me to stop? But I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he teased. He knew he was teasing the damnit out of you. Even as you begged for mercy, there you were, still riding his clothed dick. You couldn't help but follow his lead though, your hips couldn't help but relish in the feeling of his hands tight on them, guiding you back and forth. Even if you wanted to you weren't sure if you could stop. God, it felt so good. Nothing you had ever felt like before. His hands on your hips and his mouth abusing your sensitive skin. The hardness of him grinding directly onto your clit. It was all so amazing.

He could tell you were close. He’s never had you before but he already knew all your tells. Your panting and labored breaths. The way you couldn't keep your eyes open. The stuttering of your hip movement. How you tried to get closer to him, even though you were flush to him. Gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth. Your hands tried to paw his hands away yet again. Think you’d learn the first time. His mouth went right back to sucking marks into your skin and he cooed at you. “C’mon, babygirl. You can do it. I know you need it, sweetheart. Just let go and cum for me,” he softly commanded. Hips following his words, your pace quickened and he ground you down onto him. His own hips jerked up and his cock spanked your core. Within moments the climax unraveled and you let out a screech. The white hot bliss greeted you and the power of your orgasm could be felt in every nerve ending of your body. You shook for a good thirty seconds and your vision went blurry. You slumped against him tiredly and he chuckled. His soothing hands rubbing circles into your back and sweet nothings helped calm you down and your high rode out. You lazily started unbuckling his belt and he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Oh how you liked the feel of his hands grabbing you like that. “Tsk, tsk, Princess. ‘M not done with you yet.”

In an instant he was untying your shoe laces, kicking them off your feet and forcing your pants down to your ankles. His hands ripped your panties off and you were exposed. The brisk air was biting against your wet cunt and you gasped slightly. He raised you up against the lockers and wrapped your legs around his head, hands planted firmly on your ass holding you midair. The smell of your arousal and the previous orgasm dripping everywhere had him painfully hard. “Tell me if it's too much, baby, and I’ll stop, okay?” You whispered a ‘yes’ and he finally satiated his desire to have your cunt in his mouth. His mouth went straight for your clit and you shrieked at the feeling. His light little sucks on the nub had you rolling your eyes back and jerking your hips. Continuous moans leaving your mouth only encouraging him. He licked a stripe straight up and down the length of your pussy and his own moans left him. You tasted fucking delicious. Like everything he had imagined. All those times he imagined how you’d feel and he was finally fucking seeing for himself. He felt like a kid on goddamn Christmas, his hands tightening his grip on your ass. You were sure there’d be handprints in the morning. His thumb went to rub rough circles on your little bundle of nerves while he thrust his tongue in and out of your weeping hole. You started to cry out for him, hands pushing against his head and fingers gripping his hair attempting to pull him off of your pussy. Absolute the fuck not. He looked to his right and to his luck there was a set of resistance training bands hanging from a hook. He smirked and looked up at your fucked out face and he chuckled to himself. Holding you up with one hand, he reached to his side and grabbed a cable band. You watched his movement and saw what he was doing and your eyes widened. The kinky bitch. “C’mon, princess. Give em to me. Since you don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, I have to take em away from you,” he teased playfully condescending. He tied your hands together behind your back with the workout gear and he hummed satisfied with himself before resuming his meal. He was fucking merciless with his tongue and you soon learned your crush was a borderline sadist. His mouth wrapped around your clit and his sucks were harsh and unforgiving. Like a man starved, he ate you like you were the last source of hope for his soul. His finger started fucking you, too. He started with one but your drenched hole quickly accommodated for more. Soon enough you were on the brink of another orgasm and he forced it from you roughly. “Again, sweetness. You can cum again, cant you? Give me another.”

The orgasm brought tears to your eyes and you wouldn't stop shaking. Your thighs were quaking around his head and your back arched off of the cool metal of the lockers you were propped against. Toes curling, head thrown back, continuous moans and screams leaving your lips. Your second climax of the night arrived and you screamed into the locker room, little sobs leaving your ruined body. He let you ride out your orgasm against his tongue until he was fully content and gently brought you down, placing one last kiss against your lower body. He sucked his fingers that were just shoved inside you, not breaking eye contact with your tired eyes. He placed his forehead against your own and wiped away your tears.

“You okay, baby? Was that too much?” he asked worriedly. He didnt want to fuck up his first time with you and feared he lost control of himself. You smiled tiredly against him and shook your head lightly. “‘M okay, promise. Jus’ need you, Jason.” He smiled and shuffled you towards the mirror and sinks. He took off his shirt and laid it on the edge of one of the sinks he was about to bend you over. You realized it was for your comfort and smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell up. Even when he was about to absolutely obliterate your cunt, he still managed to be a gentleman. He unbuckled his pants and finally his cock sprung up. He sighed, finally feeling relief. He watched you stare at his size through the mirror, seeing your eyes widen and your teeth tug on your lip. He lightly guided you into the position he wanted you in and you sighed contently, feeling comforted by the thought you would finally be fucked by him. Watching him pull a condom out of nowhere and rip it open with his teeth had you on the edge of your seat. He sheathed himself with it and made sure everything was ready. “Ya’ ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked while lining his tip up with your entrance, smearing your wetness all around his head. You gasped and shouted a little “yes” and he chuckled, sinking in. Even with two orgasms loosening your little cunt up for him, he was still a little much to adjust to. Both of your heads tossed back in sync and you closed your eyes, sighing for him. You worked your hips against him, wanting to feel more. He grunted and grabbed you by your hair, bringing your head up to look in the mirror. “Keep your eyes up here, baby.”

Once you were fully adjusted to his size, he slid almost all the way out and then re-entered your warm, wet heat. It felt so good. He set a pace and it was so heavenly. You could cry with how good it felt. You both needed this, needed this release for all the pent up frustrations in your lives. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and his grunts and your little sighs filled the room and the smell of sex was heavy in the air. His hands were on either side of your hips and his eyes met yours in the mirror. It was fucking exotic. Seeing your eyes perfectly, watching the pleasure unravel on your face. Pleasure he was giving you. His pace quickened a hair and you gasped. Your hips moved backwards against him, in time with his thrusts. You felt him deeper and the perfect rhythm of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you almost hypnotized you. He smirked a little bit as he watched your fucked out face in the mirror. No thoughts, head empty. It was clear only pleasure was what you felt.

You didn't even notice him reaching above the both of you and retrieving something from the cabinet. Only when you heard the familiar buzzing noise did you wake up from the transe you were in and see what he had in the mirror. A muscle massage gun. For a moment you were a little confused, why was he hurt? Then you felt the big spherical head of the gun against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for the umpth time that night. He smiled and cooed at you from above. Yeah, he was definitely a sadist. He angled the gun a little bit to the left, wanting to overstimulate your abused little button. His thrusts hadnt ended and it was too fucking much. His pace was faster and harder and deeper now and had you both moaning up a storm. Your hands were finding themselves gripped onto the sink counter and you were struggling to keep your eyes open and in the mirror. He moved the massage gun setting higher and kept it firm against you. Your thighs were shaking and you were glad you were being held against the sink by him. You weren't sure you would be able to keep yourself up if you weren't.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Give me one more, please. I know you can. Cum for me, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, feeling bliss about to erupt in you again. He quickly corrected you, though. His hand not being used to hold the machine to your clit came up to your throat, squeezing lightly on the sides. Not enough to cause genuine pain or prevent oxygen into your blood, just enough to give you that lightheadedness and in an instant you came on his cock. Your final orgasm was so intense and pleasurable—not surprisingly—and it lasted nearly thirty seconds. He removed the massage gun and returned both hands to your waist. His brutal thrusts as he chased his own orgasm helped you ride it all out. That blissful feeling that lasted longer than your orgasm did. All the stress leaving your body. Finally his sputtering hips stilled as he emptied his hot load into the condom and you whined, half wishing he was emptying himself into your wet little cunt instead. One day.

You both sighed and felt content again. You were sated and had finally gotten what you wanted. His loving palm rubbing circles into your lower belly, soothing you. He peppered light kisses on your skin and slowly slid out of your heat. He turned you around and kissed your forehead. All this loving kissing of his was making you wanna cry, it felt so good. Not just to be fucked right by him, but to have him, too. He was yours, now. And you were finally his. He grabbed your face between his palms and gazed lovingly into your eyes. “You okay, baby? Was that good? I didn't hurt you did I?” You smiled softly and nodded, “Yes, Jay. I'm perfect. You were amazing,” you reassured him with a blush.

He picked you up and sat you on the edge of the counter and got a washcloth from a basket, wetting it under the sink. He wiped the sweat and cum off your body and gave a kiss to each spot after it was clean. He helped dress you and by the time he was carrying you making his way to your room in the manor it was late. He opened your door and locked it behind him, leading you both to your attached bathroom. He undressed you again and turned on the shower. He lightly coaxed you in, seeing as you were so drowsy from all the night’s activities. He undressed himself and got in, lathering your body wash on a loofah and cleaning you. He wanted to make sure his baby was clean and cozy and content. When he was done washing you, he washed himself and enjoyed smelling like you a little too much. He carried you out of the shower and dried you off, clothing you in jammies and then put on some clothes you had stolen from him a while back.

He held you in his arms and you two cuddled each other all night long. You were his now and he couldn't be happier.

#jason todd smut #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne smut #dick grayson smut #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #batman #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood dc #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #batfam #batboys #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian al ghul #batman smut #dc comics

[bruciemilf]

Hi! have you ever read any fics where tim writes batfam fanfics? It’s a trope that’s been in the back of my mind for forever- I saw this one post about tim writing a your-parents-sell-you-to-batman-to-be-a-robin-reader-insert and it’s been in the back of my mind since then, but I can’t find any fics for it!

Nah i dont really get into fics like that!! But if someone else knows it?

#asks

[the-fallen-blue]

Remember when people liked the Titans? I fell into generational gaps, where I can't say I'm a huge fan, but can't bring myself to dismiss them as crap. But it IS weird what a generational divide among fans the attitude towards the franchise is.

I think the Titans title specifically is kind of the most obvious, easy example of a wider phenomenon: "when DC had a sense of time and growth" vs "when DC started preserving everything in amber."

The transition from the Teen Titans, who were... teenage sidekicks... to the Titans, who were fully-grown adults who had jobs and homes and married weird authorial self-inserts and generally had the same sorts of adventures that their mentors had, instead of the coming-of-age themed stuff that they had at their inception, was basically a microcosm of the whole company's philosophy, at the time. "The audience has grown up and these heroes have grown up with them; our universe is one that emphasizes legacy and reader connection to specific characters, and the ability to see their path and growth reflected in the growth of their favorite heroes."

The perpetual reinvention of The Teen Titans, starring 16-year-old Robin and his 16-year-old friends, who will never become no-prefix Titans with their own adulthood and agency, is correspondingly a microcosm of DC's current philosophy. "The audience is teenagers as a group and demographic, so these heroes will remain teenagers forever; our universe is one that emphasizes iconic concepts, and the ability for readers to pick between icons to find the one that best matches their current life experience."

We can talk forever about the reasons for the change - marketing trends, the influence of animation and cinema, the influx of nostalgic lifetime fans as writers and editors, the arc-disrupting chaos of relentless Crisis Crossovers, increasing legacy diversity hitting up against a deep unacknowledged horror at the idea that a disabled woman or a QPOC could slowly achieve genuine peerage with Batman and Superman the way comfortably able-bodied cishet white boys did, some or all of the above - but there's no arguing that it happened, and the Titans as a flagship title definitely belongs firmly to the older era. So while it's certainly dated, I do wonder how much of the way newer fans see it is actually about the title's content itself, as compared to simply not understanding the appeal of a story about "grown-up sidekicks," a concept that doesn't really fit into the way they were taught to understand comics.

#ask box #anonymous #detective comics comics

[alternativeproject]

More to say later but I’ve been having this like reaction every time I read or hear fans respond to fascist interpretations of Batman as “not their Batman”, not because they’re wrong to be troubled by the way some writers are practically drooling over the idea of their self insert version of Batman brutalizing all the people they think deserve to be brutalized, but because they’re making Batman too personal.

Sure Batman is meant to be adopted by every reader as their personal hero but he’s also a (nearly) 100 year old icon and stand in for all of americas ideas about policing and masculinity and morality and “evil”

Sure he’s my best friend and funny bad dad character but he’s also Police propaganda for kids since forever.

Much to think about

#me talking

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Nah I'm Good

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/VodEatl

by Homoeroticmicrowave

My pitch to myself to actually write this was 'what if we got batman being all bat dad on a reader insert, who was kidnapped because she worked for him by Drew Barrymore's character Sugar from Batman Forever (because I'm in love with her) and instead of freaking out when Batman came to save her she was just like you know what 'Nah I'm Good'

Heads up btw I originally posted this to my tumblr account simpingforblackfire so if you see this on that account there than it isn't fic stealing please don't come for me there

Words: 3623, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Movies 1989-1997)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Sugar (Batman Movies 1989-1997)

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Reader, Sugar/Reader, sugar (batman movies 1989-1997)/reader

Additional Tags: Yandere, Platonic Yandere, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Bruce Wayne, Overprotective Bruce Wayne, Stalker Bruce Wayne, Creepy Bruce Wayne, Movie: Batman Forever (1995), Enemies to Lovers, One Night Stands, Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Attempt at Humor, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Suicide Attempt

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/VodEatl

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

[arianadevareux]

Imagine...

Ed trying to steal you away from Bruce when he sees how much Bruce likes you. (Part 2)

Part 1

(For  KaibaSlaveGirl34 on AO3)  

Edward wasn’t surprised that you rejected his offer for dinner that evening, but he did feel a great deal of satisfaction after you agreed to meet with him another time. The ever present petty part of him wanted the two of you to leave arm in arm, mid-party. The headlines would mock Bruce’s loss and rejoice in your superior choice. 

Nonetheless, he’d still be leaving with your phone number. 

When Harvey showed up, Edward saw the perfect opportunity in front of him. After his initial annoyance at the spontaneous attack, he started scheming.

“Say, Harvey, since you so graciously decided to ruin my party, why don’t you help me have a little fun?”

Like the other guests, you were trying to get away from the chaos. While navigating the room, trying not to get trampled while you calmly headed toward an exit, A pair of Harvey’s goons halted your exit. You tried your best to fend them off, but they managed to take you to him.

“Let’s see how much Brucey boy will pay to keep you safe. How’s that sound?”

“Unpleasant.”

The next several minutes went like a blur; you were dragged away, Batman arrived to try to save the day, he got buried in sand, and Harvey and his remaining conscious goons made off with you. 

“Hold it right there!” The last thing you were expecting was Ed to come to your aid. It was difficult to see from your position - slung over the back of one of the aforementioned goons - but it sounded like Ed was taking them out. At least, that’s what you were hoping for. 

Once the thug dropped you, you had a pretty clear picture of what had happened. “Edward?”

He was now facing off with Two-Face. Edward was fighting against the villain to take hold of his weapon. In the scuttle, it went off and Edward let out a screech. “You shot me!” A good punch right in the nose knocked Harvey back, and Edward, now limping, scared him off before coming to help untie you.

“How did you... Wow, thank you, Edward.”

He helped you up, wincing slightly, and gave you a triumphant grin. “So, how about that dinner?”

“I think, first, the hospital. Your foot’s  bleeding. A lot.” 

Edward looked down, then back up again, down again, then back up. “Y/N, what’s black, white, and red all over?”

“A newspaper?”

“Yes, but no. Right now it’s my foot and shoe, covered in blood.”

“Right. Let’s go call an ambulance.” 

#ed nygma #ed nygma x reader #ed nygma imagine #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma imagine #batman #batman forever #batman imagine #batman reader insert #batman forever imagine #batman forever reader insert #the riddler #the riddler imagine #the riddler x reader #imagine #gif imagine #reader insert

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Hitman (No, not the game franchise.)

You know that trope where big quiet scary Hitman man who is known for being so skilled and heartless that you need him to at least tolerate you first before placing a hit. Or else he would just straight up kill you when he thinks you're mildly impolite.

Yeah that AND you, the reader, as the only soft spot for BQSHMM (Big Quiet Scary Hitman Man).

No don't give me flak about how this is just a bootleg of [Insert similar character here] because you are wrong, this is inspired by every Stoic and Brooding Contract Killer Character Ever and Batman even though I have never watched any movies or read any comics about him.

All I know that he :

Rich

An orphan

Can punch

Quiet

Does parkour

Hot buff nerd with all 20/20 vision

Acted by Christian Bale at least once

Have a family of other bat millennials and bat gen z's

Hates clowns

Wear smudged eyeliner

fast car

Cool belt

I get my sources from tumblr, occasional memes and snippets of batman conversation I happen to be in. I don't know if they are canon or not.

And also actually heavily inspired by the Korean movie Door Lock (2018) , except in this fic you're the ONLY victim <3

And this fic is just something to make your pussy or bussy or nonbinarussy throb, nothing too serious. Goes without saying, don't do this shit irl.

Enjoy.

Tw: AFAB reader, yandereness, violence, sex things, non con, somno oral, basically smut

(pt 1 out of 2)

You don't know squat about the underworld. Naive, innocent little you, still thinking that the black market is like a farmer's market except the vendors are selling not-so-legal-or-Farmer-y stuff such as... Oh, I don't know, like... Unpasteurized Milk?

You never once dabbled anything remotely legally dark, not even jaywalking. You are a law abiding citizen, following all the rules to a "T".

Oh, the Irony. You caught the eye of a person who kills people for a living. And that is highly illegal. Probably more illegal than Jaywalking.

He is lean and muscular with a large frame. Yet, so stealthy like a fucking cat that can squeeze through a dime sized hole with no noise and no complaint. Face, hands and basically vulnerable parts of his body like the neck are scarred from previous missions.

Stare into his eyes and you will see a void. All humanity has been scraped clean, who gives a shit if granny falls to her death in front of him? He doesn't see her as human or animal, simply something invaluable. At most, he's going to be slightly irritated that her blood got onto his coat and he is running out of peroxide.

No one catcalls you anymore. They're all dead or silenced in his own, crazy, silly way. Like getting their tongues cut off, or getting lobotomized (and miraculously surviving) to get the point across to everyone in the overworld and the underworld.

He is like what Santa is to kids in the 60's, he watches you 24/7. Knows if you've been good or bad. He could be watching you from a roof, using his rifle scope . And using his sniper rifle if he sees a threat.

Fresh syndicate criminals sees you as meat, a leverage to control the world's more notorious assassin. Seasoned ones know to stay the fuck away from you. Veterans know to not even think about or look at you. Your Hitman stalker is like a bloodhound for things that threatens your safety, as soon as anyone looks at you wrongly, it's bedtime forever.

It doesn't even take a look. He just knows if you're thinking about it. Actually, he takes no chances, everyone he doesn't trust is dead. That includes just about everyone he meets. Really puts the fear in the hearts of huge crime rings when he managed to leave the decapitated heads of their best men on the doorstep of their supposedly 'unknown' and 'unidentified' and 'anonymous' leaders.

From there, no matter how many of their members he kills off or WHO he kills off...gangs, mafias, crime syndicates and corporations knew not to go after him OR you. It's just not worth it, they're better off just cutting their losses and advising their members to steer clear at all costs.

This one man band is so scary that he gains protection somehow. Why?

Well, imagine this:

A rookie hitman decided to execute the most foolish task and try killing him.

So the rookie gets captured as expected and gets tortured.

Rookie says Mafia X sent him.

The entirety of Mafia X is going to disappear in a week unless someone can give Big Scary Gary Stu Hitman OC an explanation, saying Mafia Y framed them.

Then Mafia Y will be in deep shit. Provided Mafia X managed to convince them or else BOTH X and Y will get fucking nuked to bits.

But hey, business is good on his side. He's everyone's default hitman to go to (if you have the money), because it's almost always a 300% success rate.

Why 300%? It's because he's going to kill the intended target (and their entire family), the one who paid him and a person who is at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hmm. Maybe the guaranteed death of the customer isn't good for business. As long as you follow the rule of thumb:

Don't be a dick.

Then you should have a pretty good success rate. Maybe.

You really can't tell.

Make a comment about his only joy in this world, which is you, the reader, and you're (not the reader) is getting instant death. It's like saying Voldemort's name.

He is the monster under your bed. Literally, he lives under your bed, sliding out at night to sniff your hair. That seems to keep him content.

For now.

Maybe you've noticed that your fridge is a little emptier than you remembered. Sometimes you don't remember buying a jar of pickles and opening them. There seem to be always something to eat these days, you're not one to shop responsibly. Then why are there actual healthy foods like fresh produce and meats instead of frozen, TV dinners?

Maybe the spirit of New Year's Resolution came and possessed you during the weekends. Maybe. Definitely not because you have an unknown roommate around.

You're not complaining, you get to eat delicious and healthy "fresh leftovers" in the fridge even though you have no memory twisting the gas knob of your stove.

You swore you just replenished your body wash, why did it decrease so much?

At times, you're sure that your toothpaste is about to run out, only to see a slightly used, plump tube on the sink shelf. Did you replace them while you're drunk? Why did you not have any recollection of it? Why is your toothbrush already wet?

The toilet paper holder never seem to run out of toilet paper too. Usually, once a month, you would have to awkwardly waddle out of the bathroom, pants around your ankle just to get a fresh roll. You stopped doing that now.

Yeah, these stuff leaves you weary and pretty much on edge. But you're already dead inside from working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage in customer service. Having a little spice in your life would give you that kick to keep you going once in a while.

Plus, free food and toiletries. The stuff you get back is way more than you can ever afford. Which you're grateful for and would even turn a blind eye to the fact that it's very clear someone is living with you without your consent or knowledge. And your place is much more cleaner and neater. A win for you.

Or you're just that fucking oblivious and airheaded that you don't think anything is out of place, I don't personally know everyone who reads this.

For the sake of plot, you will be the latter. It's easier to write for.

So you think all is sunshine and rainbows, you're fed, your chores are done and the trash took out itself. Yay!

You sleep better, like, much better. Too better. Too quickly as well, you missed the dip in your mattress.

You shouldn't have drank that mysterious cup of your favorite drink that mysteriously appeared in your fridge and has some white residue at the bottom!

You don't even wake up when he drapes his arm over you, cuddling you until the sun shows itself over the horizon. Sometimes the hugging can make your eyes open a bit, but you shut them back cause you thought it's just your sleep paralysis demon feeling a little loving towards you.

Having fingers gently running through your hair while you're off to dreamland is... Nice. Having a pair of lips tenderly kissing your face is... Nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses from your jaw down to your chest is... Questionable. But somewhat nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses down from your chest to your already exposed, vulnerable pussy is... Well. Up to your intepretation.

Hey, it's not like you're awake to stop him from spreading your legs, pumping your hole with his fingers and lapping you up, right? Who is going to stop him? Not you, definitely. You're just egging him on by cumming on his tongue as he tongue-fucks you like he's dehydrated and you're his only source of water.

No worries, your bedsheet won't be drenched when you wake up. He is sure to catch every single drop of your sweet, sweet, love nectar. What a thirsty menace, he is. Pleasuring you with his mouth in your sleep for hours and hours on end.

Actually, one hour and a half on average. He has other things to do, unfortunately. Like, putting a bullet in one of his target's cerebrum? He has a job too, you know.

The room would be silent save for his slurping, smooching, smacking and the stirring of Mac n' cheese. Gulping too, he swallows everything you give.

Once he has his fill, he would press one last kiss on your sex and a few more against your inner thighs as thanks before wiping his chin and lips with his thumb. He isn't going to let any of it go to waste, he's licking the left overs from his drenched digits. Eating you out seems to satisfy him.

For now.

He smiles as he slowly puts your underwear and sweatpants back on.

Hygiene is important. That is why, after every meal, he would brush his teeth.

With your toothbrush of course.

He would stare at himself in the mirror as he scrub his molars clean, already missing the taste of you. He tries not to put too much focus onto his own reflection as he dislikes staring into the deep, dark, depressing abyss. He is indifferent about himself, so apathetic that it's... Hollow. Empty.

He gives no shits about the world. They could burn for all he cares. Only you made him feel something, made him feel pure bliss, only you mattered to him, only you can make a tent in his pants. Only you, only you.

God, you were his only will to live. If you go, he goes. Period. You are irreplaceable, special and extremely important, his life, his happiness depends on yours.

You are perfection, no one can compete. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong and deserves to be waterboarded before getting impaled on a stick like shish kebab. You are his escape to his bleak reality, a drug, an addiction. A severe, addiction. He is too far deep, you can't pry him away from you, crowbar or by otherwise.

He lives for you. No, I don't think you understand the intensity of his love for you. He LIVES for you, if it wasn't for your existence, he would have taken his own life long ago.

I'll say it again, only YOU can get his dick up by looking in his general direction. Only YOU can get away with so many fucking things others had died for doing.

If the world is going to have this... Mega wipeout and he is given a chance to save 1000 people, he would only save you. No one else-- and also himself. The 998 empty slots would be wasted.

Only YOU... Could make him smile.

He gargled and spat into the sink, washing your toothbrush before replacing them in their original spot.

He sniffed your face towel deeply before using it to pat his face.

Your self proclaimed boyfriend went on to take a nice, hot shower. Steam fogs up the mirror and shower screen, he scrubs himself clean with your body shampoo. Stripping any smell, grime and blood off him.

He makes sure to remove the hair clogging the drain.

Again, he took a deep whiff of your shower towel before using it as intended.

He dries his hair with the towel as he gets out of the bathroom, wearing a fresh set of his pyjamas. His eyes softened as he sees your sleeping form on your bed, he mumbled a:

"I'll join you in bed in a minute, honey."

Under his breath. It's not like you're conscious to know what the fuck is going on.

He pecks your forehead and brushes the hair away from your face.

"I love you." He whispers. He receives zero (0) responses.

It's always like that. You go to sleep, he gives you the best head in your life, but you're to asleep to realize, he then brushes his teeth, he showers, he fix himself something to eat, he brushes his teeth again because... Smells. And finally, he goes to bed with you.

He likes pickles. It's salty, sour, briny and helps replenish his electrolytes. Anchovies too, its... Fishy, salty, oily. Lemon sorbets are also nice, it's sweet, sour and refreshing. Natto is great for his brain, he also likes the slimy texture of it and he doesn't mind the bitterness.

Okay, he just likes the taste of pussy. Specifically, your pussy. It should taste kinda salty, kinda sour, kinda sweet and kinda bitter.

Whatever.

But usually, he would just fix up a ham and egg wrap for himself. It's quick to prepare, not too smell offensive, not too noise offensive.

He would munch on it as he goes back to your bedroom. There is a TV in front of your bed, so he would turn it on and put the volume on zero. Your self proclaimed boyfriend would pull you to his chest, making you use him as a pillow as he enjoys his simple dinner and watch whatever is on TV.

One hand holding his meal, the other rhythmically patting your rear.

Sometimes, he pats a little too hard, the screen is a little too bright, the wrap is a little too tasty, you would wake up. But not fully.

You would slur and stir. Eyelids heavy, it's a struggle to even pry them apart.

He would remedy this by bringing his wrap to your lips, which you would, without fail, get a nibble. That's enough to send you back to sleep, subconsciously chewing and swallowing that micro bite.

You always thought your sleep paralysis demon has the sexiest chuckle and the softest kisses.

The next day rolls by and you're alone on your bed. The thing between your legs feels funny and you have a faint taste of ham and eggs in your mouth.

You yawn and swung your legs over the edge. Letting your feet touch the ground, giving him full view of your ankles from under the bed.

It's your off day today and he knows you would usually spend these doing nothing. Just lazily laying around, rot your brain with social media, cry about your mediocrity, then go back on social media, binge eat, cry about your mediocrity again, social media, binge eat and finally sleep until the next day.

These are the days where he so badly wishes to fuck your brains out, to fuck the tears away. To give you orgasm after orgasm to forget whatever is making you sad, to make you prefer him thrusting into you instead of seeing suspiciously successful lives on the internet, to overstimulate you so you think about nothing but pleasure.

Let the room reek of sex, let the moans and wet slapping bounce off the thin walls, let the taste of you coat every square inch of his mouth. Let his hands roam all over your body and let him worship you as this deity having a gorilla grip on his life.

These are the days where... It's best for him to leave your apartment to carry out a hit. As he might simply just lose control and take you as soon as he hears your sniffling. Stuff you full of cock and tongue, kissing your sorrows away.

The aftercare stuff excites him too, he would want to see you relax in his hold, letting him work his masseur magic. Allowing him to feed you proper, warm meals after a pleasant, sensual shower.

He may be obsessive and unhinged. But not delusional. At least, not THAT delusional to think you'll see and accept him as your boyfriend if he jumps out of his hiding place now. You're going to have a panic attack and possibly throw up and die.

So he has no choice but to suppress it. He will have to strike when an opening comes. Maybe, enact a cliche romantic meeting and work up from there? Perhaps, that sounds like a good idea.

He is satisfied with what the bottle of sleeping pills hidden in his pocket can do.

For now.

#yandere assassin #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere concept #yandere content #x reader #tw afab reader #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere scenarios #tw noncon #tw: graphiccontent. #yandere hitman

[uncouth-the-fifth]

cheat day - Damian Wayne/Reader/Jon Kent

Pairing: Damian / Catgirl!Reader / Jon

Tags/Warnings: aged up characters, thr*esome, deepthr*oting, face f*ck, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal s*x, double p*netration, sky s*x, Damian/Jon.

Word Count: 12,106

Notes:  This has been a fantasy of mine forEVER, so in a tiny way of celebrating Jon's Supermanhood (puns puns puns), I'm sharing it with u. I totally break the laws of dick and throat physics here, but fiction exists for a reason 🥴

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

You couldn't believe it. You couldn't believe it when Jon had given in with a big sigh, when Damian loaded you into his (Robin-branded) submarine, and when the underwater murk of the Metropolis bay seperated to reveal the Fortress of Attitude. Jon and Damian's secret mancave that you'd been hearing about for years now. No matter how much you'd threatened or begged, Jon and Damian always refused to give you a tour of their little club house. With the way they'd been talking about it, you expected a no girls allowed sign plastered on the door of the loading bay.

In the passenger's seat, the view had stunned you into silence. Damian piloted the sub into the air lock chamber and activated the draining system, which reminded you of the rainbow soap in a good car wash. He might have enjoyed it more if it didn't force you to cozy up in the sub together. He'd scowled the entire ride, clearly displeased that Jon had invited you without consulting him.

Okay. Maybe it was more about you being Catgirl than it was about the Fortress. But you'd spent months now reforming with the Super Sons, so this was probably, at least in Damian's mind, a final test of your trustworthiness. In yours, it was a gold mine of hot superhero guys to toy with.

You'd cut out the stealing. You'd been a good girl, using your skills only for Batman's war on crime. Selina had even said she was proud of you. So, to balance out all that good, you were allowed one teeny-tiny, totally inconsequential, naughty act. As a treat.

This, well. This was a whole dessert.

Robin you'd been pissing off since you were both in diapers, chasing each other in circles like a cat with it's tail. He'd gone from a little asshole who'd stab you given the chance, to a slightly bigger asshole who just boredly begged you to put the diamonds down, Catgirl, and finally to this. Damian. Your favorite toy, only because he knew he was one and pretended to hate it. He was one of the handsomest guys you'd ever set eyes on. Robin was built like a brick shithouse, stacked with abs you could scrub laundry on, pecs you could bounce a quarter off of, and a face that constantly seemed to be thinking about tearing your panties off. Or throwing cuffs on you to drag you to Blackgate. Either one. When he wasn't brooding holes in the floor, Damian was one of those boys that was secretly all sweetness and sugar, treating you special and only you.

-

Robin slammed you against the brick wall, chest heaving for breath against your back. "Caught," he panted, "you."

You'd make this last chase hard for him. Ever since you'd learned Damian's secret identity, you made careful attempts to insert yourself into his civilian life. Of course, Damian took this as some kind of hostile takeover in which you planned to blackmail him, but really all you wanted was to spend some time with Damian instead of Robin. (And okay, you were totally tailing him, but it wasn't like the creep hadn't done the same to you). Robin was dangerous and mouthy and hot. Damian had seemed to be, from your angle watching him leave his university's chess club meeting, a cute, collected college student who thought he was smarter than you. He wasn't. That was why plain-clothes Damian thought he was chasing you, when in reality, you were leading him exactly where you wanted.

"Or maybe," you pushed up on your tip-toes so your butt was completely buried in his lap, head lolled back into his shoulder, "I've caught you."

Damian didn't go tense. He was too used to your flings to tense up at new touching, but he did give a heavy sigh.

A cool nose pressed against the crook of your neck. "If you missed me, all you had to do was call."

"Call what?" You scoffed, turning against the wall to face him, and mourned how Damian's hands moved to brace against the brick instead of your body, "the bat-phone?"

Damian made a hmmph sound. Up close, the space between your bodies non-existent, he seemed softer, more touchable. This part of Robin seemed more likely to kiss you all over instead of fuck you senseless. "Fair point. I'll give you my number, if that's what you're being so coy about. But I have a condition."

"Hmm," you tapped your chin. Robin's eyes, Damian's eyes, watched the movement too closely. "Maybe. What do you have in mind?"

Looming over you, Damian glanced over his shoulder to see if you were alone on the university's rooftop, then tenderly wrapped you up in his embrace. The routine is familiar to you. Damian checks that you're alone. Damian checks a second time, mask dropping. Then he lets loose all that heavy armor so only his gooey center remains, loving and kissable. First, his large, calloused hands lifted yours and kissed them once each. He drew them over his shoulders like you were a high school couple at a dance. It was cute enough to entertain, so you folded your hands over the back of his neck and took in his next kindnessess. Damian then squeezed you against him, warm cheek to warm cheek, in a full bodied hug.

"Just this," Damian murmurs. His tone is soft and perhaps a bit croaky, all on top of the smooth, sexy voice that could entice anyone to bed. "I... missed you too."

"Really?" You let your smug satisfaction pour from your words, "Just a good, long hug? That's all you want in exchange for me being in your civilian life?"

Damian's right hand, his bowing hand for his violin, flushed tight to your body and moved up it, back to hips to ribs, so he could turn your chin up and angle your lips in line with his. A spark jumped off the hazy moss green of his eyes, which turned crystalline in the sunset. Green steam off a rainforest blown into amber dusk. He had longer lashes than most models did, and his eyes were unfairly, beautifully sharp and feminine. In some ways he reminded you of a nature spirit, with preserved youthful beauty and ancient depth. Like a desert in the shape of a man.

An incredibly sexy man.

"Obviously I want to get my cock up that cute little skirt you're wearing as well," Damian said, darkly, pressing his thumb into your lip. "I just preferred to prepare you first. What kind of fling would I be if I wasn't romantic?"

"Average," you answered.

(No matter how many times he made that jump between flirting with you then openly planning to fuck you, you still had to keep a squeak from slipping from your mouth.)

"Precisely," Damian scoffed. He took you by the hips and whirled your around, immediately shunting up your skirt so it bunched around your belly, "And when have I ever been anything less than above-average, Catgirl?"

His belt buckle rattles. After all this time, the sound still shocks pleasure straight into your core. You press closer to the wall and scold yourself. Without one word of command you've turned around, planted your hands on the wall, and spread your legs, just for Damian to see.

"Never," you gasp.

And he does a lot more than just look. Damian hooks his finger into your underwear and drops it around your ankles, taking generous handfuls of your thighs and ass as he does. If there's flesh to squeeze or stroke, he does both. Damian's hand eventually traces your aching core. He considers his options as his warm fingers wet themselves with your slick, sucking them clean with a wet slurping sound. Damian hums, like he's just decided how hard he's going to fuck you.

"Condom?" He asks.

"Pill," you reply.

Damian chuckles, low in his throat and dirty. You feel his hands brace against the brick above you, sculpted chest forcing your top half flat to the wall, and then his warm cockhead brushes your pussy. He's brutal with it. He taps himself to your clit until you gasp, he soaks himself on your slick until you pant for breath. You couldn't push back into him if you tried, too, with how strong Damian is. The hands knuckling the brick overhead slip down to pin your own, contorting you flat to the wall so you can take his dick best.

"Good girl," Damian praises, and then he slams all the way in.

You can't speak. Your breath is compressed out of you in one long blow. Your body seizes, your words catch in your throat, your pussy immediately clenches down upon the intrusion, wrapping you around Damian's massive, girthy cock. He doesn't piston or buck his hips, because even that is too slow a pace for Damian. You're piped so good and so relentlessly that you can't even get enough breath to moan. That's how you know this is for you instead of Damian. Had this been for Damian, there would be candles and mood lighting and far more kissing. But he knows you, and he loves you, so Damian snaps your hands behind your back and fucks you, railing you in a blur of speed the Flash would envy.

He stops. It's brief, but it's like being bathed in a sea of hot pleasure only to be ripped out into the cold air, exposed. Damian drops his lips onto your shoulder, then lathers his hands down your body. He appreciatively squeezes your breasts, feels along your ribs, then secures your hips in place to fuck you more solidly. Then he does.

It's wet. That's the first word that comes to mind, when your brain manages to churn out a thought in the first place. There's no thinking, no internal monologue. Your mind isn't necessarily blank. But any moment spent away from this one comes at the grave cost of missing how Damian destroys you, so you prefer to soak in your nerves and his touch instead of your mind. Juices spill between your bodies: Damian's thighs viciously snap against your sensitive, aching ass, and his cock plunges through your slick with the most obscene noises you can imagine. You could tell the sex was good based on the noises alone. Every throb of Damian's cock thrummed through your entire lower half, doubling the pleasure. Fierce hands pin your hips in place. Even with Damian's cock drilling you through the wall, his grip is so strong that you couldn't move even if you wanted too. The pleasure is even better than you'd remembered or imagined. It takes all of your effort not to cum on the spot so this moment can last, but it doesn't matter—Damian would keep fucking you anyway.

You're ravaged. Everything about Damian is physical, but this especially, claiming you with his hands and his manhood, biting your flesh, licking hickeys into your neck. Your feet are barely touching the ground because Damian is so brutally deep, keeping you squished between his broad chest and the brick. With every roll of his hips you're plastered tighter to the wall, legs spreader further and further apart. It's the ultimate, sluttiest fantasy: the hot guy you've been crushing on for years now throws you against the wall, rips off your underwear and just wails on you. Damian's not just any hot guy, either: he does you as he does all things, to excel. If sex was a skill you could critique and study as closely as art or music, Damian's technique was perfect. He knew exactly what you wanted, how you wanted it, and how to give it well. He alternates between surging inside you fast enough to make thunder, to slowly filling you in inch by massaging inch. When your squeals get raspy, one of Damian's arms cinches around your middle. His smooth, long-fingered hand cups your belly as it decends, only to seperate your folds with two thick digits and jerk them against your pulsing clit.

"Damian!" You mewl. He has you mewling, now.

"Enjoying yourself, Catgirl?" Damian growls, voice grinding against the harsh end of his throat. His smile bleeds smugness into your ear, "Fuck, you are so tight."

"You're so big," you moan a laugh into his mouth. Damian sears his lips to yours from over your shoulder, but it's not good enough for him.

You're moved sideways. Damian takes one of your legs and hooks it onto his bicep so he can squeeze his cockhead between your legs from the side, really testing your Catgirl flexibility, but it's less for the change in angle and more so Damian can kiss you. Kiss is an understatement, though. He claims your mouth with his, rooting your lips together and dragging his tongue against your own, doing all of this while moaning into your mouth like it was you fucking him. Damian's wet tongue tasted like black coffee, dominating your kiss with ease. And of course, because he's perfect, Damian's cock persists inside your pussy with the same passion as the kiss, stealing every ounce of your senses for himself. When his broad hand splays across your belly and his finger return to flawlessly stroking your clit, you lose it.

He's smirking. The fucker is smirking. Damian is fucking you senseless, kissing you senseless, fingering you senseless, and smirking. His cock is buried in your pulsing cunt to the hilt just as the wire in you snaps, and Damian smirks against your moaning lips, knowing just how good he is. Just how much you love it.

Your twitching hips are filled by Damian's seed. It was easier to tell how much he came when he did it across your face or even down your throat, but you knew it would be a massive load. Damian kept on smirking as he stuffed you with cum, revelling in the ecstacy flushed all over your face. His grip on your thigh is white-knuckle close, so you could feel his abs tense against your clit, cock pulsating back and forth with your pussy.

Damian sorts you. He pulls out, rights his slacks, then dips onto his knees to help you back into your panties. You're so dizzy with bliss that Damian has to do most of the work, but you'd done the same for him plenty of times. This time, though, was for your pleasure, so Damian pulls your skirt back in place, then licks your juices off of his fingers all for your viewing bliss. His plump lips flush just right around his fingers, and his handsome jawline catches the fading sun like his skin was made of gold.

Then, he was back to business as usual. Damian plucked up your phone, put his number into it (how had he known your code?), and left you with a sweet kiss when he replaced it in your jacket pocket.

"I had a lovely time, Catgirl," he whispers into your ear, "call me?"

"S-sure," you said.

He disappears as soon as you blink.

You sigh, grin to yourself, and let a shiver of pure pleasure roll up your body at the thought of him. His cum pours into your underwear in hot, salty globs. Your hips are as marked and appreciated as your neck is. You're left there seeing white, and when you finally start to make sense of your surroundings, even then your vision spirals with stars.

Damn him. Damn Damian Wayne.

-

Jon wasn't as different from Damian as people thought. After a pretty intense job, Selina had moved the two of you out to Metropolis to lay low. That hadn't lasted very long. Superboy was a total pain in the ass because, not only did he never yield when it came to you sneaking away with your plunder, but he made you feel guilty. He'd sit you down while you waited for the cops to show up, lecturing you about stealing like the curb outside the lab he'd caught you in was a school office, and he the principal. Superboy would do this every single time. On the third or fourth, it was kind of... hot. His round, masculine face would take on this stern look that always made you press your thighs together. Flirting as a distraction was more Selina's thing, but you couldn't help yourself. Are you gonna spank me, Superboy? You'd smirk at him. I think I deserved to be punished. Will you punish me? Jon stopped falling for that by the time it was safe for you to return to Gotham. But you could tell that you'd hooked him. He patrolled with Damian twice as often, hoping to see you.

You couldn't blame Jon. If you had a taboo crush on a sexy, jewel-thieving criminal who'd taken your virginity in the most mind blowing way possible, you'd look for ways to see them again too.

-

You deserved some serious points for this. You deserved the best dessert you could imagine and the value of all your steals in cash, just because you'd done such a fantastic job.

Catwoman had told you to distract him.

Superboy's eyes were mostly hidden by the hand sunk against his cherry-red face. You were unsure if aliens sweat, but Jon was certainly shaking, head to toe and gut-deep. At any moment he would probably crumble onto his trembling knees and collapse on top of you, cumming his suit. The only thing keeping him upright was your hands steadied on his legs. Just watching you work made Jon yelp and gasp. Under his hand, you liked to imagine Superboy was biting his lip hard enough to break skin. You didn't blame him. You were good at blowjobs, but more importantly, you enjoyed them. It was the only job you did messily. Especially this one: as deep on Jon's cock as you could go, you guzzled him down, mouth slurping and squelching. When your lips smushed in a ring against Jon's naval, his cock made a satisfying guck noise in your throat. His eyes rolled up and shut so quickly he could have passed out. Taking that as a sign to let him breathe again, you locked your mouth around his girth and sucked back, adding to the bubbles and ropes of saliva attaching your chin to his thick dick.

Jon wailed, low and erotically. "O-oh my Rao."

Needless to say, you'd distracted Superboy.

Catwoman had definitely gotten away with the jewels by now, if she was as smart as you were when it was Selina's turn to distract Batman post-crime. You'd never understood the appeal of using your body as an asset before, but toying with Superboy had explained everything to you. There was nothing more fun than showing your tits to a gorgeous man too into his "moral hangups" to stare like he wanted to. It had taken longer than you'd liked to break Superboy, but that only meant the wait would be worth it. Tonight ended perfectly, having earned two prizes: Catwoman's jewels and Superboy's huge, handsome cock in your mouth.

"No one's ever... n-no one..." Superboy panted.

"Well, good thing you choose me to blow you first, huh?" You seductively tongued Jon's balls, sucking them into your mouth one or two at a time (if you could fit them). "Instead of some geeky farm girl with her braces still in, you get a professional."

"Someone who knows," you stroked his cockhead in the welcoming heat of your mouth and slurped back your spit so you could speak, "how to take care of you."

Jon watched his dick drag against your face, appreciating how it looked against your skintone a little too much. "W-wow..."

Taking in a big breath, you locked your lips around Jon's head and gulped him down, watching his face the entire time. He moaned like the amateur he was, constant and shakily. They poured out of him each time you moved, but that was probably because you made every movement count. You bobbed your head with so much enthusiasm it bubbled strings of spit down your front, you flicked your wrists in tandem, occasionally knocking them together as you worked Jon's dick, and your tongue caught the special spot under the ring of his head with every pass. Eventually there was so much spit between your mouth and Jon that it was spilling onto the concrete, so you moved yourself closer to let it pool into your costume.

Jon watched pre-cum and drool drizzle between your cleavage, pressed to the extreme by your tight catsuit, and instantly came in your mouth.

Now, you'd been planning to have sex with Superboy for a while. You'd contemplated what it would mean to do it with an alien, so you were ready for whatever odd sexual secret Kryptonians might have. Worst case scenario, Jon would have pinchers or something and you'd have a neat story to tell. You're glad it's superstrength and an insane amount of cum instead. Very glad.

By the time it's all over, your chest feels like an entire bottle of maple syrup has been squeezed onto it. In your mouth, Jon is as sweet as cake frosting, with the sticky consistency of warm honey. He doesn't have the saltiness that a human man would have. You can't help but eagerly take the stomach-full, gulping him down like he was the first milkshake you'd ever had, dizzying your head with pleasure.

Jon collapses back against the wall, but you keep swallowing, following him back so you press his pelvis into the building with your nose. His expression is the ultimate charicature of lust, rose red, jaw lax with pleasure, brows sewn together. While you're tonguing him clean you get the full view of his throat and jawline, defined by bold strokes that soften into square turns. Jon licks his lips and gasps. You can imagine that tongue buried inside you, stroking your clit at superspeed, driving you crazy, so you're more than disappointed when Superboy disappears.

The moment you lap up his last rope of cum on your tongue, Jon evaporates into a streak of red and blue.

You sit there in shock. Was he embarrassed? Had you done something wrong? Even then, you felt like Superboy was too much of a gentleman to just leave you—

"...Here," Jon materialises just behind you, offering you a handful of napkins and a pack of mints. His face is so red it seems to cast light, coloring his visage against Metropolis's gold midnight shadows. "I-I uh, picked them up from the store real quick cause' I didn't want you to feel gross. I know it's like super icky for girls when they do that, even though it's like awesome for guys—which I can vouch for cause it felt amazing, you were like so good—and I guess I want to say thank you?"

"That's subjective, Superboy."

"Huh?" Jon blanked.

"I said," you unzipped your costume slowly as you stood, rolling your hips from side to side, and smirked as you displayed your cum-soaked tits to him, "that's subjective. Not all people think it's gross."

He was trying hard not to stare at you, then when it occurred to him that he was allowed to, he devoured the sight of your naked skin. Superboy had a handsome gradient of blue in his eyes, one that took in your body like an untamed lion ready to eat.

Jon's brain seemed to leave. "...Think what's gross?"

You rolled your eyes, but that look was exactly what you'd been searching for. So he did have a rough side. It was agonizing, standing there ready for him and waiting, so you massaged up his chest with your palms and obscenely licked the shell of his ear, breasts pressed against him.

"Focus..." you husked at his moan, "Kiss me?"

"You've got..." Jon blushed, "oh, I guess that's kind of hot. I would love to!"

He was so sincere about it that your chest flushed with liking, and because of it your kiss became a little less of a bucket list thing and more a happy thing between two people. Jon was nervous, but no one in Metropolis could call him a coward. You smiled as Jon cupped your face, asked for permission to lift your goggles, which you allowed him—just this once—and kissed you. How you'd swallowed down most of his cum not a minute earlier made Jon apprehensive, but soon enough he was pecking you like you were his little princess, sweeping his arms around your middle and helping you out of your suit. No one had ever treated you like this during sex. Superboy only got braver as the kiss grew messier, and his sweetness grew too. You felt his fingers kiss your spine in circles. Jon parted his lips for a nervous gasp, and you didn't hesitate to soak his tongue with yours, kissing him deeper, faster, more dirtly. Between the pops of your lips, your fingers toyed with his hair in long strokes. Just kissing him made you want Superboy to tongue fuck you, to bruise your legs, to make earthquakes because he fucked you so hard. You told him this as you kissed, licking your way into his mouth and sizzling against his lips, please fuck me, punish me, tell me what a bad girl I've been. Pound me at superspeed until I can only feel how good you are.

Jon pulled away from the kiss. His tremendous blush made him harder to take seriously. "Alright. We can keep going. But you... you can't tell anybody."

You playfully raised your eyebrows. "What? Ashamed of me already, Superblow?"

"No," Jon said, honestly. His voice was a sweet rumble in his throat. You liked that about him; how genuine he was made him all the more fun to tease. Jon snorted, "I like you. You pretend you're one of the bad guys, but I know that you're not. Why would you be here if you were? That's why I don't want to tell anyone."

This made you pause. Dryly, you asked, "Because it'll let all the other criminals know that you'll cave for a blowjob?"

"...Because it will let the other criminals know that you're in with us," Jon rolled his eyes.

At this, you considered putting your clothes back on. You crossed your arms over your exposed breasts. "What do you mean, in with you?"

"I want to make a deal with you," Jon cooly said. It was the most confident you'd ever seen him. A cocky smirk twisted behind his messy hair, which paired well with the gentle hiss of his alien armor opening at the waist. (You supposed to had to come off somehow). "If you start patrolling with Robin and I on the weekends..." Jon's gaze danced through the air in thought, like he hadn't already settled on his offer, "I'll have sex with you for as long as you want. How does that sound?"

Mocking him as obviously as you could, you slid both hands up his chest and pressed your body to his, pouting and batting your lashes at him, "You want this deal because... what? Spending a little time with the two of you will make me into a good guy, like lil' ol' you?"

Jon shrugged, but his eyes glinted with purpose. "Maybe. Maybe I just want to spend a little more time with the prettiest girl in all of Metropolis."

Alright. That was a little flattering. You saw through it, but still, Jon was so genuine. His hands slid solidly over your waist, toying with the waistband of your underwear.

Damian and Jon, pressing in on you on both sides for weeks... Hmm.

"Fine. Deal." You said.

And then you were more than a hundred feet over Metropolis.

You squealed. Jon laughed, startling a circle of birds flying beneath you. He already had his hands secure around your back, having hooked your calves around his hips at superspeed, but you couldn't help but scramble up him and grip his shoulders like a cat in a tree. Your vision spun, and in it the cityscape's frames closed into one, the huge skyscrapers you'd scaled hours before now capable of fitting under your thumb. The wind whipped your hair from your face and bit into your nude skin, wracking a shiver up your spine. Superboy was still chuckling.

"Thanks for the warning!" You hissed.

"I was only getting us some privacy," Superboy smiled. "Someone was coming up the rooftop entrance. The only way to go was up. You didn't want to be caught naked with me, did you?"

"Hm." You turned your lips into his ear, "But I'm not exactly naked, am I?"

Superboy's broad hands squeezed your thighs. He drifted backwards, too high to be seen but too low to freeze in the sky, and comfortably reclined like you weren't so high that you couldn't make out people on the ground anymore.

"I can help with that, if you'd like," he grinned.

Well... this was Superboy. If you were going to have sex with him, it might as well be spectacular—and a couple thousand feet in the air. And he was probably the one man who could give you an opportunity like this.

Finally, you bit your lip and nodded your head.

Scooping you into his arm's hold instead, Jon held you close and peeled off your panties until you could kick them into the wind. You went to comment on how you wanted to keep that pair, but Jon kept you quiet with a passionate tonguing, mumbling his excitement between your brows. Nothing in the world could keep your hands off him. Both because Jon was so beautiful, his voice so soothing, and you kind of didn't want to fall to your death.

"I won't drop you," Jon husked.

Brushing your thumb along the spray of beauty marks on his nose, you shuddered in anticipation, "...I believe you."

Jon couldn't keep his hands off you, either. While one arm was reserved as your seatbelt that locked you into his lap, the other fluttered across your body. It occurred to you that Superboy might've never even had a girlfriend before. His touches were too light, like he was still testing how much strength it took to caress a girl. When you saddled him long enough to feel safe, you ran your free palm over his, dragging his touch deeper into your skin. And when you grew even braver, you dragged Jon's open suit around his thighs with his boxers and began to pump his cock, which pressed against your bare naval. Settled on him right, Jon's length went all the way to your belly button. It was still slick from your blowjob, soaking the inside of his boxers with hot cum and your sticky saliva.

"Please," Jon gasped. His hips jerked up into your hand like frieght train with steel breaks, throwing your entire body up a few inches. His ecstacy was shaded gold by the nightime city glow below.

It took getting used to, but the longer you drank in Jon's features, his hair spiralling in the wind, the salty smell of the bay on the breeze, the hieght flushed your core with heat. There wasn't any real danger. Superboy would catch you, no matter how spaced out he was by a mind-blowing orgasm. But being so close to danger was thrilling. You could already imagine how Damian would try and one-up something as adrenaline-fueled and sexy as a skyfuck with Superboy.

"Don't be gentle," you warned him.

"I have to," Jon winced, "There's no way you'll be able to take it."

Taking him by the seam of his cape, you jerked your faces close, "You said we could do this for as long as I want," you grinned, "I don't want this to last. I want it to be messy, loud and super-speed fast. Either you fuck me into a hospital stay, or we don't have a deal."

Jon closed his eyes and let his head loll back. His flight tilted away, like he was reclined on a bed with you saddling his lap instead of free-hanging in the sky.

"Sorry," he said when he returned to himself, "I just had to make sure I wasn't dreaming."

"This will be better than your dreams," you smirked. Slowly, you shifted up with Jon's shoulder as support. "And I know you've dreamt about it. I'm your dirty little secret, aren't I, Superboy?" You squeezed his cock, base to tip, until it's thick head was soaked against your clit. "You've dreamt about fucking me like this, haven't you? Filling me up all the way with you as my only support, the only thing I can touch in open air..." You smoothed your palms across his abs over the armor, and then rolled his cock into your sore heat.

Jon groaned, "Ngn!"

The stretch was incredible. His first inch makes you both lose your breath, so you're both hovering against each other, moans caught in your throats. Jon lets you settle around him (warm, wet, massive him), and then with all the gentleness in the world, viscously squeezes your ass under his nails and slams in as deep as he could go, sheathed almost to the hilt. Almost—because he's too big to not have an inch or half leftover.

You wail. It's a sensual, fuck-me-more wail, which Jon gasps and chokes back with one of his own. He pulses so hard that his dick stretches out your soft core just saddled there. You let him, arms thrown around his shoulders, and wade in the cozy pleasure with a drooling mouth. Jon kisses you and gasps apologies, and you growl your ecstacy into the heat of his lips. Fuck yes, just like that, f-fuck me just like that!

After you notice the length, and the width, and the pure dimension of the above-average Kryptonian boy, you're astounded by the liquid. Jon's cum and your spit already pour from your sex, but your wetness too drowns any chance at roughness. You're so slick that Jon could twitch and slip out of you. It only makes the suction stronger, so the first time Jon lifts your hips, your pussy squelches and pops off his length, liquid sealing his cock inside you. He slaps you back down on his thighs so fast your head spins, too in love with your tightness to leave all the way. The pleasure of friction is yours, but it's the closeness that makes Jon float a little higher in the air. Just to test, you clamp down on him. Jon pulls a moan from so deep in his throat that you're almost bucked off him entirely. Inside you, his cock twitches just right against your best bundle of nerves.

Your own weight sets you deeper on him. Jon's head doesn't just poke your womb, but flushes against it, totally closed inside you. At the same time, you dip your heads to see the mess you've made of each other. You can barely see the outline of your sensitive pussy under Jon's massive meat, which flushes inside of you once, twice, and a third time, the muscles there convulsing in bliss.

"Faster, fuck, p-please," you whine. It's the opposite of a mistake.

Jon's adam's apple bobs, "Y-You sure?"

You brace your hands on the symbol on his chest, the grooves of the armor cool against your flushed skin. "Give it to me."

Nervously, Jon tests the waters with a few experimental thrusts, rolling his girthy cock hard against your good spot. Satisfied with his plan, he takes off.

In short bursts, you're fucked sensessly. Super-speed is the best kind of vibrator. Jon fills you so fast and so much in such little time that his dick hums inside of you, twenty thrusts a second. A vibrator doesn't give you the satisfying smack of flesh or the liquid, which is truly the hottest part. He gives you seconds in between to breathe, but all you want is for Jon to drill into you like a industrial oil digger. When you cum on only the third burst and beg him to keep going, beg him to rail you until his cum is pouring from between your legs, Jon finally delivers.

That's what sex with Superboy is like. You flop your head onto his shoulder and hold on for dear life, eyes rolled back into your head in your bliss. The muscular arm Jon has secured to your waist sinks low, hooking you around the hips instead, and you feel him twist in the air to hit your pussy just right. You only have the energy to tremble. Jon's strength really starts to show. You feel his other hand dig in earnest into your ass, bruising it blue as he did where the flat plane of your underthighs meets his merciless hips. His dick schlups obscenely inside you, and Jon's too lost to do anything but saw into you, mindless. You know he won't hurt you, but you can tell the sex is better than he expected. Jon slips mid-air after every solid thrust, so you're ten feet lower than you were the first time you came, and Jon almost forgets his strength when his tongue lavishes your mouth.

"M' there," Jon gasps, "Oh my Rao, m' there."

He twitches. His hands melds your hips to his, and then Jon lets it all loose, swallowing your desperate mewls as your pussy swallows his cum, throbbing and throbbing to get it all, filling you wall to wall. You feel his seed pour down your inner thighs and across his abs in a constant, never-ending stream. It could have been whole minutes before Jon showed any sign of stopping. You came purely because of his pleasure, wracked all over his hot electricity. Jon puts his whole body into a sensual kiss, cock jammed inside you to the hilt. When he finally slips free, your pussy aches with body-shuddering aftershocks. You laze against each other, and Jon is so dazed that you float along the breeze, basking in each other.

"Wow," Jon smiles dizzily.

"Yeah," you fell against his chest, closing your eyes to the flood of cum drizzling down your legs. Your smile feels equally dizzy. Looks like you survived. "Wow..."

-

You'd only had Jon once, unlike the many (many, many) times you'd had Damian. Damian was fiercer than Jon, more animalistic. In some ways he was more passionate, too, a love-making partner instead of a fuck buddy. You wouldn't compare them much, though, when they were a dose better taken together. You'd fantasized about it enough to know.

This was your naughty exception. You wouldn't steal, you'd be a good girl, and you'd have Damian and Jon together at least once.

"Hey," you said.

Damian was waiting for the airlock to warm up, the sub lightless but for the glowing blue console and the blue light of the water churning on the other side of the windshield. His face was illuminated by the array of buttons, which highlighted his sharp jawline and intense brows.

"Be quiet." He snapped. "I'm doing something."

Grumbling your displeasure, you spun your chair sideways, reclining your boots across Damian's lap. He was used to your minor annoyances, so he worked around it and ignored you. You changed tactics.

"I miss you, y'know," you whispered in the sub's humming silence. "I haven't seen you in so long. Or touched you." You slid a hand onto his arm, "...Or kissed you."

Damian scowled at the driver's handles. When you touched him, the look softened. His thumbs nervously played on the controls.

"...I haven't kissed you in some time, either," he muttered.

You unbuckled the straps that kept your cat cowl under your chin, drawing closer to him with fluttering lashes. "Then kiss me now."

Twenty minutes later, you, pristine, walked out of the sub's cockpit with a disheveled Damian in tow. Jon asked what kept you. Robin mumbled something about the airlock malfunctioning as he raced away to 'fix it', hiding a hefty bulge under his cape. He was always so easy to turn on. Damian could never resist a passionate make out session, especially if it took place in his lap.

"Y/N," Jon coughs. Being alone with you has the same effect on him as it had on Damian.

"Thanks for inviting me to your little boy's club, Superblow—" your cheeks went hot. "Sorry. Been thinking a little too much about you, I guess. Thanks, Superboy."

Jon, frankly, looks winded. The hands on his hips shock down to his sides like he's been electrocuted.

"You look very pretty," he stutters. Jon's face is already cherry red, and he's waving his hands around like the gestures will cover up what he's thinking. "I like what you did with your... hair..."

You loop your finger through the curl in the middle of his bangs, stepping into his personal bubble like it wasn't the same for him as a transition between the atmosphere and space.

You lean into his face to flirt, "And I like what you did with yours."

"O-oh, it's just like this," Jon chokes, "I don't even brush it! Well, I-I do actually, I'm not gross or anything like that. I'm actually very clean!"

Low-toned, you smile, "I remember."

Jon forgets how to speak. He squeaks for a while, and you nod along, eating up his shyness. He makes an attempt at hiding under his cape like Damian does, but the fabric isn't wide enough. You figured he would have gotten bolder since your time together, but Damian lurking around every corner seems to shy him up again.

Soon enough, Damian glides back into the room in his normal Darth Vader fashion, which you assume means that he thinks he's strong enough to resist you. He's not.

The boys give you a tour. Damian must have gotten out his spring cleaning supplies, because every room you walk into is spotless and untouched by any trace of college-age boy parties. He makes a big show of all the technical work he's done for the base, including the underwater sensors he installed himself, and a breach-plugging system he described with lots of big words. It's adorable. The two exchange excited glances whenever you seem to approve of something, and Damian's annoyance with having you there is quickly proven to be fake.

After you lay out what movies you're going to watch in the rec room as a group, you decide it's time. "Do you mind if I take a shower first? I didn't have enough time before we left."

"Sure!" Jon says. "It'll give me some time to get some snacks together."

From the couch, Damian broods, "Don't take too long, L/N. We have a schedule to maintain."

With that, you fly into the showers in the locker room, strip your outer clothes, and grin to yourself. The look on their faces will be almost as priceless as the sex. You study your reflection in the glass door to the showers. The lace Superboy bra will tempt Jon into using his x-ray vision, and your tight, perfectly fit Robin panties will have Damian right where you want him. Knee-high stockings were Damian's favorite, and Jon will definitely go crazy for them too. All according to plan. After you... prepare yourself some more... you decide it's time.

You walk the short distance from the bathrooms to the rec room at a casual, confident pace, mentally readying yourself. Two men you cared endlessly for. No matter how long you'd been fantasizing about this, nothing about executing it would make you less nervous.

Taking a breath, you leaned against the doorway and greeted in your silkiest, smoothest voice, "Boys."

Jon was lounging sideways in the corner of the L-shaped sofa, one arm relaxed behind his head. Both he and Damian had traded their uniforms for pajamas. Damian, who was reading off his tablet, wore the tightest tee he could get his hands on, abs practically spilling out of the fabric. Jon was in a loose fitting crop top that showed off his toned arms and dewy skin.

Their conversation swerved to a halt. They stared at you, then glanced at each other.

Suddenly, the two boys grinned.

"Look at this, Kent," Damian's voice glittered with dirtiness, "We hardly had to do anything and she's fallen right into our laps. Our plan worked perfectly."

Jon sat forward, brows raised michieviously. "Our plan was to lead her up to it, D. This isn't really our plan."

The two boys stood. You became very, very aware that they weren't boys anymore.

"She's wearing underwear with our names on it," he scoffed. His eyes devoured the sight of you, and there that panty-tearing look was, as promised. The sharpness in his eyes is begging to rip your underwear off with his teeth. Damian sauntered forward, closing in on you. "I say that is a success."

Your hands fumbled for a place to rest on your body, but crossing your arms puffed up your breasts for Jon to swallow drool over, and setting your hands on your hips outlined them for Damian's hungry eyes. This time, you were the one squeaking.

"No way," your cheeks flushed with heat, "You did not plan a threesome. I planned a threesome. This was my idea!"

Jon and Damian shared a look. It clearly wasn't.

"Well," Jon coughed, respectfully eyeing your exposed skin, "You want this. I want this. D wants this. Let's... let's do it!"

You look between their towering forms, underwear soaked so fast your legs are trembling, and size up your options.

"...Okay."

The two crawl closer. Jon meets you at your front, happily kissing your hands as he draws them around his neck. Damian takes the open angle to fit his iron hard-on against your ass, hands filling in your hips with the same passion his lips appreciate your shoulders with. His mouth spirals into your hair, then your neck, searing your ass backward and into his pelvis. You're kissed on the lips by Jon's angel pecks, dipping in and out to brush his lips to yours. Both are talented kissers. On top of their broader, stronger manhandling of you, you know all of your fantasies are about to be fufilled.

So you moan. You let it all out, mewling, whining and groaning, making sure they know how much you want it. And you want it like you've never wanted anything more in your life. You want Jon's cum to paint your chest and you want Damian spilling ten inches inside of you. You want to be fucked and used, to be made love to. Judging by how you're kissed, that's what they want too.

Jon tongues your teeth. He gets braver as you go, groaning into your mouth, muttering things between kisses. You dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and drag him in for more. He's enjoying himself so much he's humming, which makes you want to get on your knees and hum around his dick like that. Adorable.

Meanwhile, Damian's getting tired of being ignored. His kisses are joined by harsh bites, and his hands smooth up from your hips to your chest in circles, squeezing your breasts in each hand. The feel over the fabric isn't enough for him, though, because he quickly forces his hands up your bra and over your chest. Jon's wide palms join his, squeezing and massaging your collarbones and tits.

"Beautiful," he mumbled, "you're so beautiful."

You give him a longer, sweeter kiss for the comment, which is the last straw for Damian. One moment Jon is nuzzling your cheek with his nose, and in the next Damian is shoving his tongue into your mouth. You moan, but he only likes it more. You wore a Superboy bra and Robin panties for a reason. From behind, Jon can hug you against him, warm and honey tasting, kissing your neck and cupping your chest. Your nipples are rolled lovingly through his fingers. Damian, on the other hand, leaves his love in his kissing. Your ass is grabbed viciously by his nails, which he rakes up your flesh in supple handfuls. Your ears are flooded with kissing sounds, the popping of spit, the moans between breathes. You sink into their hold in total bliss.

But this isn't only for you. Soon, you find a way to pry yourself out of Jon's hug and Damian's aggressive ass-grabbing to slip onto your knees.

"Ready?" You smile.

Damian snaps, "Get on with it." His voice makes your pussy throb.

Jon flicked Damian on the arm and tried not to look too shy. "Be nice." He touches your cheek, "Yeah... um, yeah, we're ready. Go ahead."

They're too shy to make the next move. You have no issue doing it for them, considering how fun it is one on one. But this is two on one, so there's two faces to watch as you palm them through their pants, drag them closer, then unwrap them. Jon has his eyes closed in anticipation (and shyness), lashes fixed against his cheeks. Damian's lazarus green eyes targeted you. His gaze is heaviest, so you treat him for it.

Their cocks are huge. Bigger than you remember, even. Jon is rediculously proportioned, long, thick, and smooth. He literally hangs when you pull him free, at least a foot long. Maybe half your arm. Damian is bronzey, veiny, and handsome-looking. You don't need to collect any spit, since the drool pooling in your mouth at the sight of them is plenty. Working Jon in one hand, you start with Damian's cock.

He slides himself into your mouth by the hips, studying your handiwork with malacious delight. You're all moaning too much to speak, except for Damian's low grunt of, "You know what to do, Catgirl. Take what's yours."

Like any good thief would, you do. Damian's cock immediately jolts in to press into the back of your throat. You let him through, gulping, guck-ing, and sucking with every new inch. A chill races up your body at the deadly edge in his eyes. Robin talked the law plenty, but he let you go at every opportunity for a messy deepthroat. Superboy has his kryptonite, and Damian has you, balls deep. You hit his base with ease. His cock settles perfectly in the sleeve of your throat. Every throb of cockmeat fills your entire skull, bulging under the skin of your neck. You suck spit back through your teeth and pump your head along the last inch of cock.

Of course, he's never satisfied. You're too slow for him. Damian gives Jon a smug look, nets your hair in both hands, then begins to pound into your face like a madman. You love it. You love it like you loved stealing, feeling wrong and naughty and used. Nothing feels sluttier than the heat in your belly when Damian uses you as he pleases. Damian goes until your eyes well with tears, stuffing you to the brim, and then releases you to groan, "Good girl. You've improved."

Your spit hangs from his dick in strings and bubbles. You'd lick them up if there wasn't another aching, desperate customer to take care of.

"Don't strain yourself," Jon whispers.

It had taken four times as long to get Jon to cum from a blowjob the first time you'd done it, so by now, you've learned. The spit from Damian's dick follows you to Jon's, which you waste no time popping into your mouth. He likes light kisses and lots of tongue, which you wield without mercy. The veins in his cock flutter when traced. His head is almost too big to hold comfortably in your mouth, but the wobble it puts in his lip makes it worth it. Jon mewls for more. You suckle his head faster, rolling your wet tongue along it's sweet surface. With a few more kisses and a lot more long drags of your tongue, he's panting as hard as Damian is.

"Don't worry," you grin, "I didn't forget about you."

You can barely fit their tips in your mouth one at a time, but you try both anyway. Damian smears your spit back onto your cheek with his dick, which slips easily through the slick saliva dripping down your chin. Their fat, delicious cocks squeeze into either side of your lip. Jon has to grab the back of the couch to keep from breaking something. Damian forces you into Jon's cock by the hair, sawing you onto the first few inches.

"Look at her go," Jon gasps.

"She has a very talented mouth," Damian remarks.

You hum in agreement, since your mouth is too full for you to speak properly. While you're gagging on one of Damian's balls, Jon leans down and fixes your bra. ...Then slides his dick through.

The hot, sticky flesh sizzles between your breasts. You try not to cum when you realize what he's trying to do. Squeezing your tits around him, you shudder in pleasure as Jon begins to thrust his spit-soaked manhood through the shape of your chest. The fact that it's Jon making such a bold move only makes it more panty-soaking. Taking advantage of the spare hole, Damian guides your head to the side and onto his waiting cock. You're used from two angles then, once as Jon's pair of tits, and again as Damian's slutty cock-sheath.

"She loves it," Damian grins, "What a whore. I bet you're begging to covered in cum, aren't you?"

You nodded as best you could on Damian's girth. Jon's thrusts push you back with every blow, bouncing your breasts each time. Without warning, you're struggling to gulp down Damian's load, which he only plunges deeper into your throat. You can practically feel him pumping it into your stomach. It's the sexiest thing you've ever felt until Jon cums a second later, pouring—pouring—a whole quart of seed across your neck and chest. Kryptonians came an unreasonable amount.

You collapsed backwards, spent. Slouched there, covered and filled with cum, you felt like a cream donut.

The boys recover before you do, so you're scooped up and deposited between them on the couch. In the corner of your eye, Damian disappears, no doubt to gather supplies, leaving you to sink into the cushions with Jon. Definitely for a brief amount of time. You can't think of many reasons why Damian would be eager to share you. Especially with someone like Jon, who reeks of boyfriend material. A clever suspicion forms in your mind, but you save it for when Jon isn't cutely keeping your hair out of your face.

"Damian's getting all the stuff we'll need, towels included," Jon blushed at the mess on your chest from where he sat next to the couch on the floor. "M' real sorry. I shoulda warned you ahead of time..."

You lick a smear of cum off your chin and play with crossing your legs, which easily draws Jon's eye. "Don't sweat it, J." You rub the underside of his jaw like you would a puppy. "I knew what I was getting myself into. How'd you convince Damian to do all this, anyway?"

Playing with his fingers, Jon met your gaze though his long lashes. "Oh, uh. He convinced me, actually. I wasn't sure if you'd want to, but he proved it to me."

Now this was interesting. You squinted at him, "What proof?"

"Well, we tell each other everything," Jon awkwardly laughed, "When you and I had our night together, I told him right away. (I hope you don't mind). He'da found out eventually, whether I liked it or not. He was always telling me about you two, anyway. He likes how much control you have in your life. I think he's a little jealous a' you." Jon opened and closed his mouth, unsure if he should have spoken. Your silence invited him to continue. "But, um... That time when you, uh... were in Damian's room..."

Your teeth flashed. "When I touched myself in his bed to get back at him for being mean?"

"Yes," Jon's cheeks flushed, pinned back by his smile, "He heard you say both of our names. His and mine. And I dunno, his detective sense knew that you weren't just trying to get under his skin."

Your eyes drew up from Jon's biceps, plumped out against his side. He was so muscular that he even had those sexy indents over his ribs. Jon's muscle was softer than Damian's though, more huggable. You wanted to sink your teeth into him.

"So he organizes this?" You said.

"Yeah. Like I said. We all like each other," Jon shrugged, "And it's not like we can do this kind of stuff with normal people. Secrets could get figured out, people could get hurt. This is... actually pretty healthy, I think."

"Mhm," you hummed. When your nails drag under Jon's chin, he dropped his face into your hand and tried to hide his embarrassed grin. "You hurt me real good," you purred. "I was sore in bed for a week. Gave me plenty of time to think about you..." you brushed his hair behind his ear, "use my toys..."

Jon's eyes got the slightest bit wild. "But you didn't have anything as big as me, did ya?"

You gave his chin a friendly pinch. "Don't get cocky, Kent. Damian was perfectly big enough for me."

Jon went quiet. You figured you'd hurt his feelings, revealing that you'd had sex with Damian within the week you'd made love to him, until his hand squeezed your waist. "Did he do the icepack thing?"

You examined him, suspicious, "How do you know about that?"

"When you get hurt, he puts all these ice packs on your bruises and patches you up, but he kisses em' all first. Maybe he gives you a backrub," Jon listed. He drew patterns on your hands while he explained, shyly, "And as he's kissin' you and rubbin' you, he starts kissing where the bruises aren't, telling you what he likes about you, how he'd do anything to help you feel better... right?"

You smiled to yourself, watching Jon's hand. "He drew me a bath. Read me poetry. Said something stupid about being worried about me, wanting to keep me close to him. Bent me over the bathroom counter and ripped the towel right off me."

"Romantic," Jon snorted.

"What he do for you?" You asked, arms uncrossed.

"Didn't have my powers," Jon explained, and the look on his face answered your question just as much as he did, "He played me piano, made out with me, made me dinner. And when I was all nice and gooey for him, he blew me until I was brainless. By the end of it I was so crazy for him I had to go home and deprogram myself like I was some kind of cultist."

You raised your eyebrows, shrugging, "Damian was raised to be a cult leader."

"Damn pretty one," Jon said.

You giggled together like real gossips.

"I love his morning voice," you conspired with him, "I felt like I'd been shot, holy hell. So sexy. All husky and low..."

"And then he has the guts to whisper in your ear with that stupid mouth," Jon cursed, shuddering in delight. "Somebody needs to clean his mouth with soap."

"You know," you tapped your chin in thought, "the moment Damian found out that you and I had sex, he had to have thought of this. All three of us pouncing on each other. He had the exact same fantasy I did! I would have never pinned him as the type..."

"Me either," Jon hummed, tone brimming with amusement. He snickered. "I bet he just wants to watch us, the weirdo."

Damian's sharp shadow fell over your and Jon's bodies, scaring you both out of your skin. His low, handsome voice cut through your conversation like a katana through butter. "I'm not opposed to the idea, Kent."

When you recovered, Damian smirked between the two of you and raised the things he'd brought. Towels, a bowl of water, a washcloth, and lube. He set the water bowl on the side table behind you, leaving the cloth inside. "I was going to clean you off, Y/N, but if you're inclined to this..." He gestured between you and Jon, grin almost a handsome sneer, "I wouldn't mind watching my cum drip down your chest as Kent fucks you."

"You've been holding out on me, beloved," you teased, "Since when are you so bold?"

Jon grinned impishly. "You were right. He totally wanted to do this because he's got a fantasy about the two of us."

You uncrossed your legs and moved forward onto your knees, crawling across the couch to simper into Damian's lap. "Look at his face, Jon. He totally did." You gave Damian's burning cheek a cute squeeze, "Did you think about him touching me like you touch me?" You kissed into Damian's ear. "Did you think about how making love to me like how he loves you?"

Damian gave a shy, stern nod. His expression was icy, but that just meant that he was trying harder than usual to fight down how turned on he was. The boxers he'd pulled back on twitched with the start of an erection. You didn't even bother to excite him with your hands, and sunk your head between Damian's trembelling legs to mouthe his bulge through his underwear. Jon watched from over your shoulder, mouth watering. You would have invited him to join you if you were feeling generous, but the taste of Damian's hardening cock is too good to share.

You spread your knees and hooked your calves around Jon's legs, who's already slipping your panties out of the way. He's smart enough not to take them off of you. Instead, Damian gets to watch as Jon kisses your back, your hips, hooks your Robin panties around his finger like a reign, and dizzies with pleasure as his cock sinks into your pussy.

Damian's cock gets your full-bodied moan. Large, calloused hands hook around the back of your neck and keep you on him. For a breath, both of them stop to let you settle. They could plow into you and use you until you were lungless if they wanted to, so you take the uneeded moment to laze in the feeling of them. Damian's palm pushes you deep on his girth, thumb stroking your hair. He smells like sweet oils and leather-ish because of his Robin suit, which takes you back to the nights where he would take off his belt so you would ride him in uniform. Behind you, Jon drops his hands next to yours on the couch. You feel your back press into his toned abs, his nose fall into your hair, his dick pulse within your plush center. He whines, low and wanting.

You imagine what you must look like with orgasmic delight. Damian shoving you onto his cock, the dark freckles on his wrist tweaked because of the angle. Jon's tall, muscular body stretched out over yours, his open mouth just inches from Damian's, shoulders rounded out, arms flexed. It's dirty. It's downright slutty. You're laid out, face down and ass up, for Robin and Superboy. The two men you've dreamed of having are desperate to fuck you. You're guzzling Robin halfway down your throat already, and Superboy pumps deeper inside you every second. It's a dream come true.

As Jon bounces you around Damian, and Damian thrusts you back onto Jon, you're fucked back and forth in a maddening line. You expect Jon to be considerate, and he is. He starts slow, working you with his wide tip first. Jon rolls his hips in gentle dips, wetting his head. In one thrust he could steal you all for himself, but he makes the depth worth it, earning you inch by inch. Soon he's soaked enough to take you deeper, and deeper, until you're being filled every time. The burn soaks into a pleasurable softness. His long, firm shaft flushes to your sensitive walls, filling your pretty pussy with powerful Kryptonian heat. You would try to meet his thrusts, but Damian and Jon's rythym is ruthless, and any pull away from Damian is a request to be mercilessly met by Jon and vice versa.

While the slaps of Jon's hips to yours are loud, your gagged mewls are easily louder. Damian was done letting you play with him. You were such an expert when it came to riling him up, you could keep him from cumming yourself if you wanted to. Your tongue would only offer his head playful, light licks, and you would keep him in the shallow of your lips, barely touching him even if he was completely in your mouth. Watching Jon fuck you turned him on too much to stick to riling alone, so Damian took your hair by the root and started you off like he wanted you to. Damian pulled his cock into the comfortable depth of your throat, letting you gag and swallow him to no avail. He let you go for an instant and automatically you dragged your lips sideways down his length, sucking him hard. On the second drop you slurped his balls into your mouth, expertly licking back up him to deepthroat him, thrown even deeper by Jon's timed thrust. Damian let you have your freedom, now that he knew you'd pay attention to him properly. You didn't beg him with your eyes or tickle his legs like you usually did. This was for pleasure, not for show. You kept your throat open and began to bob on his cock, around his tip, around his shaft, against his base, shuffling your wet lips low on his sensitive manhood. Damian groaned and gasped like he didn't know how to speak.

Your lips plumped around him perfectly. You could taste your spit glimmering on his long, clean bronze cock, and bubbled it down his shaft until it cloyed to his legs. Soon Damian was off his thighs and up onto his knees, where he could fill your mouth in earnest. Dark amusement glowed in his eyes at your every pop and slurp, like there was nothing sexier in the world than the way you took him so happily. His eyes would flicker from your slow, sensual deepthroating to Jon's face as he fucked you. Damian was close, if the throbbing filling your throat meant anything. There wasn't a moment where a cock wasn't inside you. On your hands and knees, you're spitroasted between their furious hips.

You swallow up your leftover spit when you pull off him, lips glazed with pre-cum and drool. "He feels so good," you whined, "o-oh my god, Damian," you pressed your cum-soaked face into his cock, gasping and moaning and shuddering, "o-oh my god, he feels so good—holy fuck he's so big—I'm so close, ah, fuck! Fill me up fill me up fill me—"

Damian caressed your face in one shaking hand, and the moment you opened your mouth for him, worshiped your soft lips down his side, and tongued his head, he bucked into the hieght of your throat and came until your stomach was full. Jon gets an eyeful of Damian's sexy, burning ecstacy, and in two seconds he's vibrating cum into your slit too. Even as he cums he keeps thrusting, and thrusting, and Damian locks your head in place so your mouth is flush to his abs. Your vision goes white. On either side, in both holes, you're stuffed to the brim. Cum pulses down your throat and pours from your slit. Jon and Damian moan, twitching against you.

And Jon keeps going.

The moment Damian cuts you loose, you're whipped onto your back and plunged into. Twenty, thirty thrusts a second, Jon steams with heat, fucking you, reaming you, while Damian watches. You wail for it, because this is the Superboy you've been waiting for. Jon is fresh over the edge, just a little too turned on to remember he can break you in half, and going totally crazy on you. You cum again and another time, spasming in pure bliss, fucked out of your mind. To your misfortune, Jon is able to come back to himself.

"Oh my g-gosh," he flushes, "What am I doing? Y/N? Are you okay? I-I didn't mean to hurt you, honey, I—"

You're too high to speak, so you shut Jon up by cupping your hand over his mouth. He pulls it away, anxious, and tenderly holds your palm between his. The soft edge of his pupil spills across your body, a treat in it's own way. He'd fucked you so fast that your body didn't have time to catch up to even one orgasm, so they're thrown on top of you all at once, leaving you breathless and plowed. Your pussy throbs, sensitive and raw.

Jon lifts his hips to get off of you, until Damian hisses, "Don't you dare pull out of her, Kent."

Furiously, Damian jerks his soaked cock in one hand. The other has pinned a knuckle between his teeth, eyes fused to the scene in front of him. Since your head is in his lap, a few flicks of pre-cum and spit land on your face. It doesn't matter much, though, because Damian lets go between your and Jon's bodies a second later. You open your mouth just in time to get Damian's cum. It drapes across your face in upside-down ropes, spilling into Jon's waiting mouth.

"More," Jon mumbles.

Cupping his face, you give him more. It's a devilish, tactical move, but you're gearing Damian up for the same ferocious fucking you'd gotten from Jon. Watching you kiss his cum into Jon's mouth has the exact effect you'd hope for. Damian goes still above you, mesmerized by the romantic kiss. Jon pecks your mouth with sweet dips. Your tongue slides against his, exchanging Damian's cum and a few soft moans.

When you pull away from each other, your sly eyes slide up to see the look on Damian's face.

"Evil," he dramatically covers his blushing face with his hands, "both of your are evil."

Giggling, you allow Jon to help you up, and together you relax into Damian's arms, who pouts at all the touching. It's hard for him not to dissolve totally into a blushing mess. None of you have the strength to say more, but it's agreed in your haggard breaths that this is only a break. Even if Damian enjoyed the show, Jon had his turn with you. Now, you really wanted them both. Damian, of course, reads your mind.

"You've prepared yourself for me, haven't you, beloved?" Damian smirked. You felt his nose brush your ear, and the closeness of his voice flushed back your arousal at an insane speed. The feel of his hot, moist breath hovering over your neck made you want him to lick and suck all over your flesh. "That's exactly what you planned for. Of course you want both of us at the same time... You've always be so greedy..."

Jon caught up with what was being said, and instantly flushed in the face. "Y/N..."

"Please?" You teased, flushing closer to Damian's chest. The warm arm around your waist became a hand possessively squeezing your ass. You covered it, and let your other cup the sweaty hair at Jon's neck. "I'll be such a good girl," you promised, darkly, "I think I deserve something for all the hard work I've done."

Damian and Jon exchanged a look. They'd known each other long enough for the glance to be telepathic, so a decision is quickly made between them.

"Alright," Jon says.

Damian's eyes glimmer with lust. "So. Where will you have me?"

-

part two.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader smut #dc smut #dc comics smut #dc #dc comics #jon kent #robin smut #superboy smut #jon kent x reader #jon kent smut #jon kent x you #super sons #damijon #jondami

[strawberry-nugget]

Bloom Later | S. Todororoki / Reader

Summary: a shameless self insert about sharing feelings, interests, and even remains of unfortunate situations with Todoroki. Or the one where Todoroki turns into a comfort character because I'm trying to cope about having second degree burn scars

Warnings: mildy sexual situations, heavy sexual tension, reader has anxiety, other than that it's pretty fluffy, minors do not interact

Disclaimer: since this is a very personal work my experience with my burns scars is what applies to me, I am not taking away anything from other burn victims, I hope you know you're beautiful and powerful for getting through such a difficult situation. All characters are of age/20s

Word count: 3.5k

Most of your evenings are spent watching superhero cartoons.

It's the most inevitable in the first stages of the fate of a superhero, planted in their heads from the early childhood years as they zap through kids channels on the TV; watching Superman blow his villains to next year with his icy breath, jumping from one furniture to another after a new episode of the amazing Spiderman and admiring Batman for eliminating evil one night at a time despite his lack of powers.

Shoto Todoroki, ever the hero, has forever been deprived of this. Born and raised into abuse, fighting his way out, has only found peace after permanent scarring now, in his 20s with you, on this ratty rundown couch in your apartment that you cling onto dearly, in the collection of superhero shows you own.

And it's rather enjoyable because your interests are fairly common. You talk about the recent comics issues of the heroes that you like religiously and there's a sparkle in his eyes when he lets you finish and talks about his, even more so when you analyse your knowledge on any hero that he likes.

Shoto is sweet, in the way that he bought you a whole lot of three years worth of Batman issues so you can have physical copies to add to your collection because you simply gifted him a DC Comics encyclopedia out of the blue. He says it's refreshing he gets to live such an exciting part of one's childhood even now and you tell him there's no age in enjoying the things that you like, that he's not late to anything.

And there's the part of you that longs so much for him that it feels unreal.

It's been like this ever since you met him through a mutual friend -Camie- two years ago on the first days of June. You, very close to a breakup without even knowing so, Camie trying to convince herself that she wanted Shoto a few moments before embracing her true self and coming out and the man somewhat enticed by you -to the point a small hangout between the two of you almost turned to a make out session.

Keyword, almost. You've tried to keep everything you've ever felt for Shoto deep inside of you, locked away by swallowing the key, shoved in the closet with a stick and forcefully shut closed, but it's almost impossible.

You've thought about him at night, on your own, he's helped you get over your break up, you've bonded over so very, so many similarities and common interests that you've come to end up being a nervous wreck with shaky hands whenever you merely do so as lay eyes on him.

And then there's this intimacy that you share with him, the carefulness in the way you hug, because there's so much tension between the two of you that anything could be inappropriate, anything wrong could ruin the friendship that you've built. You often think of him slamming you against the wall, kissing your neck, you've wondered what his lips taste like whenever your faces are just centimeters apart only for one of you to pull back, to set things straight.

You're sure that had his fangirls known about you having such intimacy with him you wouldn't be able to go online -and you want to have that ability because in times he's gone for months and when you can't rely on his poor online communication skills to see his face you rely on his posts, on the posts of his friends and you find yourself texting him over and over at times and then none at all. He always makes up for the time he's spent away with a bottle of booze that he buys wherever his heroic missions take him.

So there's tonight for you; Justice League Snyder's Cut playing in the background, cognac filling cup after cup and Shoto curled on your couch with his warm, blue turtleneck and his baggy jeans -both articles of clothing hugging his body so beautifully in all the right places that you can't help but stare and choke on your spit from time to time- everything is topped with the worst snowfall you've seen coat Musutafu in years.

In other words, it's already 11.30 pm and he's trapped in here. But the movie is four hours long and Shoto and you had already talked about the fact that a sleepover might be needed to get through the night and you had initially been fine with that -of course- but now you're not sure you can actually do this tonight.

You've already watched an hour and a half of the movie -you actually loathe how slow paced it is- when Shoti turns to look at you, lower lips tucked under his front teeth, tugged until his skin turns white. He's turned his gaze onto you one too many times tonight but this one is different; you press pause on the controller in your hands and instantly the screen freezes.

"You okay Sho?"

"Okay?" He blinks "yeah more than okay, I actually uh," His dual colored eyes look around the room "I need to pee, be right back"

You watch him get up and instantly you feel cold; you try to blame this on the fact that he's warmer on his left side by letting your logic push your stupid heart in its place before it takes up the whole room. You're right, you know you're right and even if there's no harm in making a move on him there is something definitely still holding you back, something you're scared he won't like about you.

"I'm back" He announces and startles you so that you jump slightly "sorry for scaring you"

You nod, pulling your sleeves over your fingers "I'm good Sho, come sit next to me again 'm getting cold"

He smirks at you and he's so cute at doing so that you almost pout, or you actually do pout, because Shoto squints his eyes as he stares at you, as if trying to make out what you're pouting about

"Am I doing anything wrong? Did I say anything that hurt you?"

"Oh, i- uhm"

God this is so awkward. You think… you think this is the end of you, for your heart is fluttering in a peculiar way and Shoto's eyes are fixated on your form and they look warm and icy all at once and it's too much.

And despite being sure the man was into you two years ago when you met, despite being of age that your experience let's you know whether someone has the feels for you or not, there's a doubtful voice in the back of your head that says he would never like you this way. You're too much of a nerd, too plain for him and you think you're erotic when you probably look so ridiculous in his eyes.

"...I would have loved to see some of the bat family in this, it has so much potential and…"

But he; he looks so beautiful talking about his interests, so much that you lean into him a slight bit, not knowing when or how this little rumble started, but still enjoying it anyway.

"...dont you think?"

"Mhm" You nod your head but you have no idea what you're agreeing with. It's only then his mouth shuts closed, thin lips pressed together softly dual colored eyes staring into yours once again as he leans back into the couch.

He eyes your breathing chest and in return you choke on a breath.

You make a mental note to try and look from his eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes -advice courtesy of TikTok and in your defense you've only just wanted to find out if it actually works- and you exhale so shortly that he should be startled.

But it looks like he's counted down all of your breaths, like he knows what your future moves are going to be; you wonder, does he know the thought of him is not-so-reluctantly crawling under your skin, raising the hair at the nape of your neck? Your chest stiffens so very heavily that you almost choke again.

The two of you, dense as a pile of bricks, are probably going to be staring at each other until all sexual tention on the room is thrown out of the window in the cold, piling snow in the streets of Musutafu.

"I, uh-"

Shoto blurts out his first choice of words and it's enough to know the inevitable has finally happened, you've ruined it, in between your cowardness and his stupidity you've grabbed a butter knife and cut through the sexual tention with such ease. You hold your breath and shut your eyes and puff your cheeks in disappointment and behold and await for his world crushing words.

But they never come. Instead you find your world taking a rather horizontal pov to it. It takes no more than a second to realise Shoto is laying you down, hands resting authoritatively by your sides; one next to your burning face and one with its thumb to the curve of your stomach

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, and he doesn't really have to, but he knows your ex gave you a cinematic first kiss before you had to get to the train to head back to your hometown, and he fears crossing boundaries with you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can't, you can never, take a decision for yourself but this time if you don't act now and if you don't act right you're going to mess everything up royally.

And so you cup his face with your hands and take a swan dive into his face.

It's too much, too soon and you manage to hit his face with yours more so than you manage to kiss him. Perhaps it's for the best, for he squints his eyes melodramatically and smooths your cheek with his thumb, bumps your nose with his, ghosts his lips over yours.

"I'm so sorry, Shoto, fuck, I'm so so sor-"

"Shh, it's fine" He whispers and the change in his voice has you weak in the knees "I wanted to take my time with it but I don't think I can wait any longer"

To say you feel your core throb would be such an understatement. You've never had someone long to kiss you that much, you've never felt this drunken way, you've never wanted to know what it feels like to kiss lips you've only ever dreamt of this much.

And there's raw energy in that kiss, tangled between short breaths, woven into how romantically his lips are dancing against yours. You've never been kissed like this, you've never come close to feel as good as this kiss feels. You know, you could probably die right now and the piece of heaven this kiss has given you will be enough to last you the rest of this eternity.

You can't help smiling like an idiot, every five seconds you've got to pull back, give yourself some time to come to terms with your reality.

By the time Shoto is smiling too, you think, you've accented into a space in time, where your tongues don't have a single body they belong to, they're wet and unkind in the way they fight against each other and they're too eager to engage in battle again and again until saliva is dripping down your cheeks, until Shoto lets out a silky moan and detached from my out mouth as suddenly as he attacked it to launch a new attack on your chin and travel down your neck.

There's not a single point of return between the two of you. You want to have him, you want him to have you and you don't want to wait any longer (it's exactly what you've always feared would happen were you to allow your lips to touch his own; the lack of self control in your bloodstream that screamed of his name only)

"Am I going too fast?" He asks when he pulls back, tugging his hands inside and out of his pullover, slowly taking it off his head but throwing it in an unknown corner of your room with inhuman force and speed

"No" You breathe out

"Great"

It's probably a bad time to think about this, but when Shoto's hand manages to reach under your shirt and his thumbs, eager to locate your supple breasts roam around your frame as he grabs onto you, you freeze.

There's one too many things you and Shoto have in common. You share similar tastes in music, you're both comic book nerds, you like all the same foods, so many talents to match but there's something that can beat all of those and it's the only thing he doesn't know about.

That being you're a burn victim yourself.

Shoto doesn't, he can't know about those because he's never really seen your torso without makeup, and you always like to wear even the slightest bit of a cardigan to match with your outfit, not to hide any scars, but out of your own stylistic choices.

Of course, you or rather circumstances, playing their foul game, you've seen a plethora of shirtless pictures of Shoto on his profile, in his gym Instagram stories that he says his pr team forces him to upload every once in a while and even on the cover of Vogue Japan; his pictures paired with empowering quotes for all burn victims to embrace their beauty.

And you too embrace the beauty in healed scars that look just like the ones on his body, a few tones lighter than your skin tone but completely healed and sometimes you feel lucky you've only been burned with water and you feel lucky that you can't see the scarring on your face (read: the water poured all over your face).

And in fact it's not that you're feeling insecure about it, having it to be viewed as a birthmark for your whole life, having older love interests not take notice of it despite the smaller, yet visible less-healed scars scattered amongst the bigger picture of your body, it's only Shoto that makes your spit pool in your throat.

So much that when he tries to take off your shirt you stop him.

And you can't take your eyes off of the discolored marks on his skin that look nothing like the scar on his face. He looks at you and his chest, panicked.

"I thought these weren't visible i-" He backs up to himself, looking around for his pullover "I'll cover up-

You grab his wrist in protest and for the first time the frog that sits at the end of your throat decides to take a leap out of your mouth and let your voice be heard

"It's not you it's- fuck how do I say this?" You curse under your breath and he remains silent, almost sat onto your crotch "there's nothing wrong with you I just-"

"I know, it's weird, you're weirded out, I get it, it's weird for people to encounter this in real life-"

"I know"

"And I shouldn't have taken off my shirt so I'm sorr- did you say you know?"

You nod, reluctantly. Your brain is a soup of accusations to yourself, an endless wonderland of guilt because you've ruined -you've ruined, you've ruined- this moment with Shoto, you've ruined two years if anticipation and now he's going to be sick of you, and how much of an idiot you are, and he'll get mad for not knowing about what you haven't told him sooner.

"How?"

You look at him, the frog finding its home at your throat once again. The phrase you want to utter is just so difficult to voice "just take off my shirt" Yet you say it nonetheless

"Let me put on mine first"

"Shoto just take off my shirt"

"I insist I do my part-"

"Please take off my shirt" You cry out, though you don't know if you're ready for this yet.

Perhaps you're rushing into this, you think, but it's too too late because your idiotic hands are merged with Shoto's, guiding them to the hem of your clothing and you're found tugging your shirt off of you over your head. The lack of bra is evident, it has been evident since Shoto came here but it's not the nipples that have been stiffened by the cold that actually catch his attention -they do too- but there's more to your chest that his eyes are feasting on.

And it's something he could so easily distinguish, he has his own canvas stained by this paint as well.

"You…" He trails and you turn your head away. Ashamed? Confused? You've no idea. You only think you owe him an explanation.

"Boiling water. I was three, I poured the kettle all over my face, it got to my stomach my upper back my arms, my neck, i- I do know what it's like"

Shoto is looking at you, mouth slightly agape, the tips of his fingers outlining the borders of your scar, the one over your breasts; it runs on top of them, it marks right under.

He doesn't say anything for a while, but he does seem to be in deep thought before his moment of surveillance is cut short quickly when your hands come to cross over your chest, making him keep his fingers to himself.

"You never told me" He admits, plainly, it hurts just a tad to remind yourself that this is his usual tone.

"I didn't want to trigger you" You curse under your breath, your hands clinging tighter over your chest "and now I'm fucking things up"

"Trigger me?"

"Burn marks and all"

But Shoto is so kind that you think you might explode. It's a kiss to your lips that confirms it as eventually, he ends up resting his lips over yours to seal your mouth shut, confident in his movements, sweet even. His expression is not far from his usual poker face save for the squinted hooded eyes and the newfound rosiness in his lower lip. It sends chills to run down your spine when he's staring into your soul like this.

But once you gulp the stress that's gathered all around your heart starts to slowly scatter. You relax your back against the couch and Shoto relaxes over you moments after he manages to peel your number hands away from your chest.

And you lay with his head resting on the bone of your chest, feeling the warmth of his left side coax you into ultimate peace of body and mind.

"You can't trigger me, I promise"

"But what if you look at me and realise you're tired of looking at scars for once in your life" There's a long pause, you need a few seconds to seep into what you said "i mean, you, you'll get tired of seeing scars on others or… I should probably shut up"

Shoto laughs shortly and your chest vibrates in warmness "how do you come up with these?"

"My… insecurities?" You ask, popping your head upwards to look at him, though he quickly shoves it down, followed by an order to relax. You breathe again and he's right, his weight on you increases and you feel like an idiot that cannot get used to a cuddle "I suppose I try to put myself in your shoes and try to view myself in your eyes"

"You can do that? I thought you were quirk less!" He states, almost too stunned and you contemplate on whether he means it or not. The answer to your question comes when he pops up from your chest and laughs it off silently, fingers lingering at the side of your face.

"I'm not going to get tired of you. Are you going to get tired of me?"

You shake your head, he so awfully dead panned that you're startled

"I'm relieved honestly, to know someone can share my concerns"

"You get to live with it" You comment silently to which he agrees, humming into your chest

"At least we share a fear of kettles then too"

You laugh at him through squinted eyes, shoving your hand onto his face. Is it a reach that you think it's cute when he kisses your palm? "I take boiling hot showers" You lean into his ear, whispering like it's a secret to be held

"Me too. I think it's a trauma response."

You laugh again and as Shoto lifts his torso up, dedicated to launching a kissing attack to your neck once again, the cups of whiskey still linger on the coffee table, the snow is coating the streets heavier than before and the movie is long forgotten. Your hero gets to live the happy moments in which he drowns himself in as much love as he wants after an everlasting game of cat and mouse, left to wonder what may his future hold.

#todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki #Bnha

[kimhargreeves]

Dirty Little Secrets-Edward Nashton x Reader

Summary: You and Edward have been an inseparable pair, little do you know that the Batman will learn about both of your secrets.

(Warnings: smut, mentions of death, self harm, mentions of rape, incest, kidnapping.)

"Honey! I'm home!" I exclaimed loudly and kicked the door closed. I heard a quiet shush coming from across the apartment, i hummed to myself and placed the many bags I had carefully on the ground.

I peeked my head inside one of the rooms as saw the Riddler is livestreaming Pete Savage who is tied to a chair with a contraption which will allow some rats to go in him. I chuckled darkly and waved my hand at him.

Quickly I closed the room and headed over to sit over on the table where I had all my tools. I reached down and grabbed one of the many bombs I had brought in for a grand ending, to flood the city.

Carefully I held it in my hand and examined it carefully. Surely, all of these must be enough. I placed it to the side and grabbed my one of my many tools and reached over to grab the collar I was finishing up.

After a couple of minutes footsteps were heard getting closer to my small workplace. I stopped working and smiled looking up at Edward. He tiredly came in and got rid of his mask.

"Are you alright? I haven't seen you been able to sleep." I ask tilting my head to get a good look at him through his glasses.

"I'm completely fine."

"I can always see through your lies." I sang going back to my work and felt Edward staring at me. Like he always does.

Still looking at the collar before me was when I carefully started placing the three bombs on it, and making sure that the collar would definitely work. "And it's all done! Do you like it?"

Edward examined the collared bomb in his hands and hummed to himself before placing it down and smiling at me.

"It's perfect like everything you do." I blushed and felt extremely happy that he continues to love my work and me. Even if we've known each other since forever, he still acts all shy around me.

I jumped down from the stool I was sitting on and stood up on my toes to wrap my arms around him. "There's no need to feel so shy, Eddie."

I winced a bit when I felt one of his hands grip the back of my head, pulling on my hair a bit. "Did you finish placing the other bomb in the note I gave to you?" He hummed and smiled evilly making me feel things.

"I-I did! It's all carefully wrapped up for you to deliver-" I was silenced when he leaned down to me and kissed my lips, not wasting any time on slipping his tongue inside.

Edward lifted me up the ground and placed me on a table opposite to where the bombs and guns were. "Edward, w-what about that cop!" I closed my eyes and fought back a moan when he began to kiss and bite my neck.

"He's already dead." He said breathing down my neck. I felt one of his hands groping my from behind while the fingers from his other hand began to trace up my folds. I whispered and couldn't help but arch up to him, wanting him to continue teasing me. He stepped closer and pinned me closer to the wall, he removed the shorts I was wearing along with everything else.

"Be a good girl and stay still." He ordered wrapping a hand around my throat while his hand went back to where it was.

I jumped up a bit when I felt him inserting two fingers inside of me, still staring down at me and beginning to breath heavily, Edward adding another finger in, continuing to pump those gloved fingers inside of me. I moaned loudly and gripped onto his arm and his dark green coat he still had on.

This happened often too. I never really felt ashamed at being with Edward in the slightest, we would talk and do everything we felt like doing.

Few seconds later I felt him pin my hands down when he began to kiss me again, one of his hands was missing, I felt something lining up against my entrance until he pushed himself into me making me cry, and making him grunt loudly before he wasted no time and began to pump inside of me.

The sensation was overwhelming to me as soon as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. I continued to moan loudly when I felt him hitting that familiar spot which would make me see stars. I reached forward and wrapped my arms around his neck when so felt his breathing quicken on my neck, one of his hand went back down to circle my clit while he picked up the pace faster.

I hid my face and gripped onto him tighter, “Ed..I-I’m gonna cum." I cried pulling him closer.

“Do it." He muttered, keeping his brutal pace while applying some more pressure between us.

I felt my walls clench around him as my orgasm approached, I felt myself getting just a bit dizzy. Edward followed not long after, shooting streaks of cum inside of me. He groaned loudly as soon as he closed his eyes shut. We both remained still, not wanting to leave our current spot, even if I felt extremely tired and would've wanted more since he's been too busy these days.

I continued to pant heavily alongside Edward who remained still breathing heavily on the crook of my neck. My hands shakily went up to fix his messy set of hair, I still felt his hands gripping my waist tightly until he slowly started to let go and fixed himself up.

I stared at him tiredly and glanced over behind me to see the many news articles he has plastered on the wall, everything about Gotham and the renewal plan. I looked over and noticed the small image right to my right, it's the one picture he has when the Wayne's gifted us orphans the orphanage.

The picture of Edward in his choir uniform, glaring to his right at young Bruce Wayne. I still remember that day very clearly, along with the days most kids would used drops, and how most kids were malnourished and passed away.

I turned to look at Ed tiredly but felt extremely grateful to have him with me. "Why out of everyone in the orphanage you decided to save me? Continue to take care of me?" I asked him truthfully.

Edward fixed his glasses up his face and turned to smile at me. "Because I'm your brother. I promised to take care of you no matter what."

We only had each other's backs growing up, no one else understood us. That led to solitude and the both of us only growing closer throughout the years, which lead to us trusting each other completely and falling for each other too.

No one will ever understand the pain we both went through, so we remained close. After I got taken advantage of back then, he became even more overprotective of me and always made sure that whoever did hurt me, would pay with their blood.

"Don't wait up for me. I'll be paying a small visit to Gil Coulson." He chuckled maniacally to himself and reached over to the other side and grabbed the collared bomb I made along with duck tape.

Edward slowly made his way back to me and held my cheek to which I gave into his touch and met his dark eyes. "You mean the world to me, (Y/N). I'll be back soon."

Without too much of a talk between us, I watched him leave to kidnap the district attorney. I jumped down from my spot and began to tidy the place up for his return.

************

Edward and I had visited the mayor's funeral a few days ago. Vengeance or as we like to call him Batman wasn't able to save Gil Coulson. He decided to die than reveal the truth. Rats continuing to protect each other.

The next day Edward delivered a package to Bruce Wayne addressing it to Batman. The same night I went and delivered the weapons and same uniforms to the Riddler's followers, to help us with targeting the new elected mayor.

I certainly didn't expect Batman to be teaming with someone on the night where Carmine Falcone was caught. Oswald Cobblepot was outside with the pair and many policemen. I was instructed to remain close but hidden in the shadows, I glanced above me to see Edward pointing a sniper rifle right at Falcone.

In an instant the man fell to the ground, dead. Everyone began to freak out and policemen noticed where the bullet was shot. Each of them ran past me and above the building from where Edward was.

The heavy rain continued to pour down the dark streets, I began to walk over to the cafeteria where Edward would be. "Ed, we have to get out of here." I told him when I dialed his phone number.

"I'm staying right where I am." I heard him whisper.

I gripped the phone tighter and knew exactly what he meant by that. "Don't you dare tell me this was a part of the plan, you never informed me of this."

Silence. He said nothing and simply hung up on me. I hid the phone in my pocket and began to run down the alley way, making sure to not slip and fall. I have to reach him before the police do.

Why didn't he let me know of this?!

Right when I was making my way to the cafeteria. I saw police surrounding the place, i began to run up ahead but someone held me against a brick wall, I opened my eyes and saw the Batman.

He said nothing and continued to hold me tight and wrapped something around my wrists. "Hey!" I began to fight him, to run away, but nothing worked.

Was he following me the entire time? Did he listen to my short conversation?!

"I have nothing to do with this!" I shouted at him angrily. The man simply glared down at me and said nothing, i swallowed my next words and suddenly felt a bit scared by him. He looks so menacing hidden in the shadows.

Police men who were just ahead turned to look at us, surprised, My face was completely drenched from the heavy rain. "We have another one here!" I heard one of them say.

I looked up ahead and saw inside the diner. Edward being arrested, we made eye contact and I saw his eyes looking over to the Batman before he smiled and was taken outside.

****************

"You really think I'm afraid of you? A guy dressed in a Halloween costume?" I asked with a smirk across my lips. I was chained up and was taken immediately to Arkham.

The Batman kept his cold hard stare on me until he said something which made slowly start to frown. "I know of your secret. You and the Riddler. It all makes sense. You both were raised in the orphanage. Both of you are siblings."

The smile I had across my lips disappeared making my lips tremble as I slowly smiled again. "So you figured it out..I thought no one would." I admit and looked back at him through my contact lenses.

My hair and makeup was a mess making me look like a mad woman. I tilted my head still looking at his darkened eyes.

"Does that disgust you?" I smirk remaining to try and stay calm."

"What I want to know is why? You had a bright future ahead. Being the top in your classes, graduating as an engineer."

The Batman went on making me glare at him once I remembered all of the awful things I went through.

"He was the only one who cared for me, he looked after me. Protected me from all the pedophiles who visited the orphanage when we were thirteen. Back then, when we were high on drops i got taken advantage of, years later Edward found the man responsible and killed him."

"Not just him. You also joined in and killed an innocent man-"

"What the hell do you know?!" I slammed my fists against the table staring at him through the glass between us.

"You are a rich man, Bruce Wayne." I sang his name "You had everything and everyone in your hands while Ed and I had nothing. That man you called innocent, was the one bragging on how he killed the Wayne's."

My eyes widened when I realized that I made the Batman look at me twice, now I got his attention. "What do you know about the man."

I shrugged my shoulders still being handcuffed. "I don't know, last thing I heard was that he left the city. Who knows if the man is back.." I looked around me and saw cameras.

"As far as I know, the police and everyone else doesn't believe I am the Riddler's second hand, is it true that I will be released?" I asked all hopeful and smiled wide.

Batman turned to look at the camera and back to me. "I'll make sure they won't let you get out of here. You're all much as an accomplice to him."

"But did they find any clues? Any sort of DNA that I was with him during the first kill?" I taunted him.

The police made it to my apartment and took me in without much question, I was extremely careful in my participation with Edward. They won't know that I helped him in more than they think.

The Batman remained silent until his dark eyes focused on me again. "He's been manipulating you from the start, tell me about his plans-"

"He never manipulated me!" I scream angrily. "Aren't you getting this through your skull? He was the only one who saved me when no one else did, believe me or not, there are plans he hasn't told me."

Few seconds of silence went by. "You'll be facing trial tomorrow, wether they find you guilty or not of being his accomplice is up to them. But if you're out, I'll find a way to lock you back in here."

With that a guard entered the room and made short eye contact with the Batman, being afraid of the tall quiet man. "I'll be seeing you real soon." I mutter under my breath and smiled to myself as I began to get taken back to my cell.

#the batman 2022 #edward nashton x reader #riddler x reader #the batman #the batman movie #paul dano #the riddler #paul dano riddler #gotham #batman spoilers

[gurlluvswriting]

The Chase of Love (Jason Todd x Reader) | Part Three

Warnings: Swearing. Tagged: @grumpycheshirecat A/N: The sentence: “You know ‘give me a warning’ means let me know before they come in here!” was suggested by grumpycheshirecat. Thank you! :)

You were just getting out of the shower when you saw Jason frantically moving about and tossing things around. With a towel wrapped around your body, you walk over to him with a somewhat amused and confused expression on your face.

“Jay?” You begin, gaining his attention and having to hold back a smirk when his eyes widen and his face reddens. “You lose something?”

“N-No,” He quickly turns back to his work, ‘sneaking’ glances back at you. “I was looking for something to pack our essentials up.”

You become serious. “Is everything okay? What happened?”

“Nothing that should make you freak out, we should be able to get out of here in time.” He looks back at to see you look unconvinced. “Okay, fine, look,” He pauses to bite his lip. “My… big brother may be onto us.”

“Onto what exactly?” You ask, until your brain seems to register it. “You haven’t told your family about me.”

“Okay, I know that look, but trust me, it’s better that they don’t know.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Fuck no! I love you more than myself, that isn’t it! They’re--” He stammers and gestures a bit wildly with his arms. “They’re them. Intrusive and a lot to deal with and just-- they won’t stop bugging us when they find out.”

“Well, if they’re so intrusive won’t they figure it out anyway?”

“Yes, Y/N, Dick has already begun to figure it out, which is exactly why we have to leave!” He sighs in a small amount of relief when he finds a suitcase and flops it onto the bed. “It’ll at least prolong the search, especially with the new security measures I installed.”

You hum. “Well, if you’ve been so careful at keeping me your little secret, how is he figuring it out?”

“I guess my behavior has changed, according to him, or some bullshit.” He begins shoving various belongs into the case.

“Changed how?” You shiver, and begin getting dressed into actual clothes to warm yourself up.

“I’m a lot less grumpy or something. I was focused on patrolling instead of listening to him rambling about my change in moods or whatever the fuck-- until he just fucking gaped at me and said in a matter-of-fact tone ‘you found the one’. And holy shit, how fucking cheesy is that sentence? He had a stupid shit-eating grin on his face too and just--” He looks over at you, who is now fully dressed and becomes slightly tense. “Wh-what? What’s that look for?”

You walk up to him, and pull him into a kiss before he can even process what’s happening. He’s not complaining about it, though. When you pull back you lean your forehead against his with a large smile on your face.

“What was that for?” He whispers.

“For being sweet without even realizing it.” At his look of confusion you giggle. “I’ve been making you happier.”

“Well, yeah.”

“And it shows. That’s why they’ve figured it out. Mr. Big Bad Red Hood isn’t so ‘bad’ anymore.”

He rolls his eyes with a small scoff. “I think criminals would disagree.”

“Jason,” He hums, signifying you have his full attention. “Would it really be bad if I met them?”

He sighs through his nose and gives you a kiss of his own. “Probably not. I just want a little more time before they try to completely humiliate me.”

You laugh, “Then schedule it.” He looks at you as though you’ve lost your mind, and you laugh harder before continuing: “Tell them they’ve assumed right, and before they break into the place, give them a date and time of when they can come over.”

“You really think they’ll listen?”

“Well, you’d be inviting them rather than avoiding them and making them all the more curious.”

He sighs. “Fine, but if they end up breaking in within the next hour, just know, it’s your fault.”

You laugh, “Just give me a warning.”

When Jason comes back home, he looks both skeptical and surprised. His family had agreed to his terms, and were going to be coming over to visit sometime next week. The entire night, however, he’s incredibly tense to the point he decides to skip patrol because: “They’re planning something, because there’s no way they are going to just listen.”

Turns out that’s exactly what they do. Once it hits seven days, the group of vigilantes come over- and instead of using the front door like normal people, two of them enter through windows.

Jason was just cooking up some food when he heard a body flop onto the floor from the Living Room. With a sigh, he turns the stove down a tad before heading out, he leans against the doorway as he stares down at his older brother who was currently still sprawled out on the floor.

“Y’know, when I said a ‘you can visit in a week’ I didn’t mean ‘you can break and enter’. I was mostly referring to ‘maybe wait for me to call’ and ‘when you do come over, use the fucking door!’”

Dick smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, we wanted to make sure you didn’t try to hightail out of here at the last second.”

“We?”

Before any more words could be given, your scream is heard, and Jason takes off before he’s even fully processed it. He slams open the door to your guys’ bedroom to see you leaning against the wall with a hand over your heart, and Damian, who had broken through the window, was just standing there unamused with an eyebrow raised.

You turn an embarrassed glare to Jason. “You know ‘give me a warning’ means let me know before they come in here!”

“You know, I did warn you that it was possible they’d break in!” He retorts, angrily grabbing the youngest by the collar of his shirt- earning a “tt”- and dragging him out of the room, but before he leaves he gives you a look. “And oh, hey, Y/N, my family’s here.”

You grab the closest object near you, which just so happened to be one of his gun holsters, and throw at him with all your might. He closes the door in time for it to bounce off, and you hear his amused, but also irritated with the situation, laugh. You take a few more breaths in order to calm your beating heart- because your window was shattered right behind you- and exit the room to find Jason looming over his two brothers and scolding the both of them. The oldest is looking at the ground guiltily, as though he was a puppy that got caught chewing on something he wasn’t supposed to, and the youngest is looking away with an annoyed expression and his arms folded.

It’s only when there’s a knock at the front door that Jason sighs irritably and leaves to go answer it. When you turn to look back at the brothers, you squeak with a jump when you see Dick is now standing right in front of you.

“Sorry,” He says with an amused grin. “I’m Dick, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I’m Y/N,” You respond, shaking his hand when he offers it.

Jason returns to the room with four individuals following behind him, each being introduced to you as Alfred, Bruce, Tim, and Cass.

“Surprisingly, the front door actually works,” Jason quips, and before anyone can comment he adds: “You also interrupted me making dinner, so I’m going to get back to that before it burns.”

As soon as he leaves, you’re thrown a barrage of questions from his siblings. You did your best not to laugh when the first one was: “Do you have a criminal record?” Slowly, it worked from interrogation to just getting to know you better, and that’s when Bruce and Alfred joined in the conversation.

It’s another ten minutes before Jason returns, and he sees you conversing with them all happily. He takes the vacant seat next to Cass and simply listens to whatever was being said, though not entirely sure what the topic was. He didn’t really care what it was, if he was being honest, because you were smiling and that’s all that mattered.

“She’s nice,” Cass quietly speaks to him, and he nods. “She makes you happy.” He nods again. “And you make her happy.” He shrugs and she smiles. “I am glad you found each other.”

He blushes slightly as he looks down at the marking on his own wrist. “Yeah,” He glances over to see you laughing at something that was said and he smiles brightly. “Me too.”

#The Chase of Love #Soulmate AU #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood #Reader insert #Alfred Pennyworth #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #Richard Grayson #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Robin #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #Cass Cain #Black Bat #this took forever #and I'm not sure if it's good #ayyyy #My writing

[stxleslyds]

Sorry if you answered this before, but remember that Mystery Box that Damian used against him when they had that fight?

What do you think was in there? We have some clues.

"What's in there... it's MY business." Something personal.

"It's bigger than this whole crusade." I assume that he's referring to their crusade against crime/evil in Gotham (or the world/universe or whatever). But I can't imagine many things being bigger that that crusade.

"Even Batman wouldn't stop this low." So, Bruce knows about it, it's harmful to Jason, and it is so bad that even Batman considers it off limits.

Hey hey! Nope, I have never talked about this subject before, I hadn’t even read those comics (in which Jason appeared) even though they were in my “to read” list for two years, (“to read” lists love to do them but almost never follow through with them).

I did know that Damian had a special prison that he was running, (alright Benjamin Percy, that’s a weird way to write a child, last time someone was running a shady special prison a Civil War broke out). But I only read Teen Titans vol.6 #22, #45 and Annual #1.

Annual #1 is the one that really matters when it comes to answering your question and I just want to make clear that I don’t really like how Adam Glass writes Damian, I don’t know if that was Damian’s personality during the whole run but I really didn’t like what I read. His Jason isn’t bad, I quite enjoyed it but I felt like the story wasn’t the right one for Jason to make an appearance. At least that’s how I see it.

In issue #22 Red Hood is first revealed as the person who had been giving Damian information on who to catch and put in that secret prison. And that being how Jason in inserted in this story is what’s weird to me, I am not saying it is bad or good, I am just saying that it’s weird and I don’t know it kinda feels off for Jason’s character but that’s not what you asked so I will stop rambling.

Alright in the Annual Damian uses the box, that Jason recognizes, so Jason finally tells him the “truth” about whether he is working with “The Other” or not. Damian knows it’s a low blow because he says, “fine, you want to play games? Let’s play”, Jason is frozen in place after he sees the box and deflates immediately (at first).

One of the important things that I believe are never shown to us is where Damian got that box from. When Jason asks where he got it from and Damian says is, “doesn’t matter. I’ve got it”, which means that he had to get it from a place that they both have been in and that Damian knew just by looking at the box or what’s inside that it belonged to Jason. So, based on that I would say that Damian got that box from either Wayne Manor or the League.

Then as you say Jason gives us a bit more information about what might be in there, he says, “what’s in there… it’s my business. It’s bigger than this whole crusade” and that’s what makes me think that the box was retrieved from Wayne Manor and not from the League. Jason had mentioned the crusade (he actually said “Bruce’s cause” but I believe that they are the same thing in this context) earlier when he was talking about how being Robin and working with Batman, so, I think that the box AND what is in it belonged to Jason before he was taken in by Bruce.

I can imagine something bigger than the “crusade” or “Bruce’s cause” that they are all involved with now, I think that he means his mother and his life with her before she died and his life changed forever.

Now, I interpreted Jason saying, “even Batman wouldn’t stoop this low” as him making a simple comparison, I am not sure if Bruce knows of the box or what is in it. Maybe he does, but I just saw that as a comparison to show Damian and the reader that Jason thinks that Damian was way out of line for bringing that box up and using it against him.

Jason is incredibly pissed off though, I suppose that his initial frozen and then deflated look was an act to hit Damian when he least expected. When he goes for Damian the first thing he does is hit his hand so the box flies off and maybe doesn’t run the risk of being broken or opened. Jason wants that box far away from Damian, but he is pissed of and he absolutely destroys Damian, he feels incredibly betrayed. That kind of hurt in Jason I think can only come from his most private side.

When Damian is finally down Jason goes immediately to retrieve the box and then he shows once more how hurt he is, as he is leaving, he tells Damian that, “from here on out, if you or your team come looking for me, I will put all in the ground for him”.

That is a massive threat coming from Jason, and it’s directed at children! This box set Jason off as much as Bruce refusing to kill Joker at the end of UtRH. Jason feels betrayed and hurt and he is done trying to “make friends” with Damian. This “relationship” after this moment should have been terminated in the same way that Jason and Bruce’s relationship should have been terminated after Bruce chose to save Joker over letting Jason kill him.

Whatever is in that box goes beyond the Batman and Robin crusade, beyond the All-Castle, the League of Assassins and Talia. None of that seems to me more important that the love that Jason had for his mother.

So, to answer your question. That box, to me, seems to be the last thing that connected Jason to his mom, maybe it was hers and it had something that was from hers inside or something that was from baby or toddler Jason that his mother thought was valuable.

I know my parents have these beautiful boxes with things of mine when I was little, my mom has one with my very first pair of shoes (if you can call them that, they are knitted) and my dad has a little box with my baby teeth, why? I have no idea; I suppose that’s what parents do?

So, yeah, that’s what I think is in that box, some kind of connection between his old life (before Robin) and his mom.

Let me know what you think is in the box!

(Also, sorry for not answering asks as fast as I should, I have been having some weird days, thank you and everyone else for the patience!)

#jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #teen titans #teen titans annual 1 #dc comics #asksss

[bigskydreaming]

You're asked to choose one and only one or DC's future stops existing immediately. your choices:

1. Jason Todd the anti-hero who seldom works with only a couple of the bats he doesn't hate, for example Dick and Cass VS. Jason Todd who came back with healed body but broken spirit, folded back into the Gotham gang and learns to be part of the society again.

2. Tim Drake who makes all of his mistakes as canon but realizes he's been wrong and apologizes to people VS. Tim Drake back in his first iteration, a cute little brother character who is a reader insert and a fun teenager.

3. JayKyle VS DickKyle.

4. Jason Todd with a sword VS. Damian Wayne with a sword.

5. Chris Kent VS. Jon kent.

Okay but which DC future? Its omniversal future? Its hypertime future? Its multiversal future? Its Elseworlds future? Its dark multiverse future? Mwahahaha your threat is useless because the sheer wtf of DC's continuities, timelines and conflicting declarations of what to even call their multiomnihyperverse makes it impossible to target simply A future! DC's overly unnecessarily complicated nature renders it functionally immortal and impossible to ever truly destroy, take that Darkseid.

I mean. But anyway. Whatevs:

1) I honestly do prefer the idea of Jason someday fully reuniting/reintigrating into the Batfam as a whole, because fuck it, the found family I'm here for is the one where they actually act like a family....I just think it takes actual work to get to that point and I get irey when people are like we're here! We found it! And its like meanwhile, abusive dynamics still abound. Mmm. No thank you. But even though I've been on a huge Jason and Dick and Cass kick for like, forever, I do still aim for him having a dynamic of his own with the rest of the family.

Like the thing is, I hate playing the favorites card in families, and I think the emphasis on so and so being Bruce's favorite child or so and so being this kid's favorite sibling, etc, like it really does feel like to the detriment of the whole family, because once you start validating the idea of favorites, ESPECIALLY in a found family that is CONTINUOUSLY growing....I think you're kinda shooting yourself in the foot because you're kinda creating a situation where either no future new additions to the family can EVER be Bruce or one of the kids' 'favorite' or else you're innately positing that said fave status is conditional and even a current fave of Bruce or a sibling can be bumped down the ladder by the addition of a later arrival....

Which is LITERALLY the entire essence of the eternal conflict between Dick and Damian and Tim fans. Its not even that Damian is Dick's favorite, allegedly, its that prior to Damian's very EXISTENCE, fans felt comfortable declaring Tim unilaterally to be Dick's 'favorite'.....and then all it took was the addition of a single family member who had specific NEEDS in regards to Dick's attention and focus, largely because of his age and needing a legal guardian while Tim was old enough to literally jet set around the world on his own.....and like, everything went up in flames in large corners of fandom.

So I'm just like, death to the fave family member myth, its just incredibly counter productive to the idea of found family as a whole especially when it usually only exists to prop up a preferred character as better than others via the proof of see, these other characters say he's their fave or whatever...but also like, its not even necessary?

Because the thing is, you can have Jason reintegrated into the whole family overall, and still prioritize your personal narrative FOCUS on characters you like more than others, like say Dick and Cass.....because of course its natural for even people in the same family to have entirely different DYNAMICS with different family members....and these dynamics don't have to come with a ranking system in order to prioritize which ones you just focus on more in a story. Because its not necessarily that Dick has to be Jason's fave brother, y'know, just for Jason to prefer spending time with Dick simply because he's more comfortable with him due to knowing him longer or being more secure in the idea that Dick doesn't judge him based on their greater shared history.

This doesn't mean that Jason doesn't care for his other siblings, that he can't have strong dynamics with them as well, its just about finding a reason for why these two specifically might be in a story without the others that doesn't demand putting a definitive ranking on which one Jason considers his FAVE. Just like Damian doesn't have to be Dick's FAVE just for them to have the super close canon relationship they have, even relative to the other siblings, because there's everything needed in canon already to establish that the mere fact of Dick essentially RAISING Damian for a year, and being the first one in the family to really take a chance on Damian, like, this lends itself naturally to them maybe more naturally gravitating towards each other than other siblings due to comfort level and familiarity, etc, but it doesn't have to be like....oh but yeah, I just like Damian more than you, Tim, y'know?

So my answer on this one is a total cop out of both, both is good. Jason totally reintegrated back into the family, but with dynamics that still lend themselves fairly easily towards story lineups where its just him running missions with Dick or Duke or any other one or two specific family members even if for no other reason than they gel together best in the field, y'know?

2) Hmm. I honestly really do love and miss 90s Tim Drake and just....don't see him in a lot of what I read these days. I'm like no, why did he have to go, he was doing so well! BUT I'm also on a big accountability kick, and like, I'm so steeped in fics where Dick GROVELS for forgiveness for every little slight he's ever done real or imagined, with every character but Tim in particular, so its like.....I'm not gonna lie, I really have a preference these days for seeing stuff where its literally anyone actually owning up to shit they've done to Dick and apologizing or groveling or making it to HIM, like, completely unconditionally. In the same manner we usually see Dick apologizing, glossing over any reasons he might have had for doing what he did or feeling the way he did, and saying oh it doesn't matter, putting the entirety of his focus on what HE did and why it was wrong no matter what and he's sorry.....that's what I would kill to see from more fics, just in reverse.

Because so often even in the all too rare fics where we DO see other characters apologizing to Dick for shit, its watered down with Dick volunteering that oh he messed up too, it was a two way street, and its like no! This is Pettiness Hours! I want the unconditional apologies! Give me the groveling! From anyone, I don't care at this point, lol, just show me characters actually PUTTING IN THE WORK to make it up to Dick for harm they've caused him, even if completely unintentionally or via neglecting his feelings or considering the repercussions their actions or words would have on him. Aaaaaaand, frankly, Tim's a good place to start there, because of how one sided all the takes on their conflicts have been for so many years. I mean, if people need a place to start, Batman and Robin Eternal gets enough praise it can't be pretended that people in fandom don't know that story exists, so how about some stories where Tim says he's fucking sorry for punching Dick in issue #4 or #5 of that one, and it was uncalled for and he was clearly just looking for an excuse to unleash some more of his resentment and upset for the Spyral/Forever Evil stuff, and family deciding that its totally okay to punch Dick whenever they're mad at him and need to work off some aggression so they can then finally forgive him (for now) is a trend that needs to die in a fire post-haste? I mean just as an example.

But the thing that kills me about fanfic trends is like....the sameness of so much of it. There's SO much room for variety and diverse takes, and like....I don't actually hate Tim! I'm just cranky because of the imbalanced nature of most content out there for literal years at this point. Push the pendulum BACK in the other direction, create some balance by showing the flip side of things.....and that leaves a lot more room for me and others of like minds to then be more amenable to - and even interested in - other stories that don't scratch this particular itch, but don't need to, because other stories are doing the scratching by then, y'know?

And THEN like, at that point, I would be ALL FOR more stories that are just callbacks to classic 90s Tim who I adore, with his skateboarding and his EARNESTNESS and his go-get-em spirit and also the gumption. All the gumption. I like that Tim. I do miss that Tim. But like, for the moment, like, I want accountable Tim because I am tiiiiiiiired of groveling Dick and tbh at this point its not enough for me to just see people move past putting Dick in that position and just have mutually respective and doting brothers Dick and Tim having adventures together......nah, first I want some reciprocation. Ngl. Gimme the apologies for actual mistakes actually made.

3) DickKyle. Easy question, c'mon, you gotta know that. LOL. ;)

But yeah, I've been shipping these two off their like, two shared pages from way back in the Obsidian Age story years before Jason even returned, let alone was in Countdown together with Kyle, so like, its no contest. I don't mind JayKyle, I certainly prefer it to JayRoy tbh, but there's not a ton of appeal in it for me, particularly in how its usually depicted, because like....the entire basis of JayKyle is that they DO have stories together and spent a whole year worth of weekly issues traveling the multiverse together in Countdown.....but there's like, practically no trace of their actual dynamics from that series or any specifics of literally any issue from that entire comic in most fics I’ve read, so its like.....idk, it tends to come across as more generic, not in the sense that it cant still be interesting, but more in the sense that it feels like just someone paired with Jason just because history between them EXISTS without any interest in exploring what that history actually IS....and at that point, its like, well there's no reason TO prioritize that ship over DickKyle for me personally, when like, I have a shit ton of headcanon reasons for why those two in a pairing specifically. *Shrugs* My logic. Its not for everyone, but it works for me.

4) Jason with a sword or Damian with a sword? I don't understand the question. Both. Both is good. All the characters should have swords. Swords are awesome.

5) Chris Kent vs Jon Kent - oof. I adore Jon, I really do. I love his dynamic with Damian, I love a lot of their specific stories, the parallels between them as friends and Bruce and Clark as friends....its all very bien. But I gotta give this one to Chris, because I'm always gonna have a soft spot for him because I'm a sucker for all abused kid heroes, and I just miss that funky little dude so much. There's so many stories we didn't get with him and were just ripe for the picking, but nooooo, DC's like lol you can't have nice things, here we just rebooted the entire multiverse and now Clark and Lois never adopted the son of Clark's worst Kryptonian rival and raised him with tender love and care awww does that make you sad, were you invested in him, WELL TOO BAD, HE'S GONE NOW AND BASICALLY NEVER EXISTED, NOW GIVE US YOUR MONEY ANYWAY MWAHAHAHAHAH.

Yeah. I'm still not over that. Probably will never be tbh, so I with great grudge-bearing do affirm that I'm gonna go with Chris on this one and like, he is a Priority for me and I'm still very keen on the idea of him and Duke being besties for random reasons that might not make sense to anyone but me, but eh, whatever.

[heli0s-writes]

Hello Helios. How has your writing style changed and what inspired the shift? Your writing is so amazing!

Good afternoon, I am about to ramble! :)

My style always changes when I read more and write less. I've been reading a lot of fics for other fandoms that aren't reader-insert and found that I really enjoy the introspection and occasional character studies that I've come across. I'd already been on a trajectory of writing from Steve or Bucky's perspective, so it was a natural progression! The last few have been excuses to poke at traits that interest me and see what makes them tick haha (ex: another year, give me two, perihelion, etc.)

My cadence has changed too, mostly due to picking up a habit of writing enormous run on sentences, so it's making my fics a bit faster paced. I'm also using more adverbs! Idk when but I read some writing advice about how adverbs aren't good? and for a while I avoided them? But this shit is nuanced and you shouldn't take any advice without a grain of salt and your own exploration and experience.

Also I've been very heavy-handed with metaphors/similes bUT hey sometimes you just gotta do what the vibe tells you to do.

Thanks so much for asking, and I hope that made like, at least 2 seconds of sense! :)

Assortment of fics that nudged me along:

AZIMUTHS by gravitationals (Jujutsu Kaisen - Inumaki/Okkotsu)

pathology of a good man by sevenfoxes (Lucky Number Slevin- Lindsey/Slevin)

strange fear i ain't felt for years by Sister (Batman Comics - Tim/Jason)

if i could buy forever at a price by noctiphany (Batman Comics - mostly Tim/Jay but they all kind of fuck each other lol)

you're my cherry pie by novembersmith (Venom - Eddie/Venom)

#ask #sometimes i remember writing can be fun #and that what i make does not need to be Perfect; it can simply just be Words lol #fic rec list

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Knight

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/d78UOGz

by saackyy

In an attempt to help you get out of your shell your best friend, Rachel, suggests going to costume party. What she didn’t know was that this party would change the course of your lives forever.

Words: 1805, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon, Selina Kyle, Alfred Pennyworth, Original Characters, Reader

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Reader, Jason Todd/Reader

Additional Tags: Vigilantism, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake is Robin, Selina Kyle is Catwoman, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Batfamily Angst (DCU), Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Batfamily is a Mess (DCU), Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/d78UOGz

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed