Bruce Wayne X Reader - Blog Posts

Me when i see batman and nightwing:

Something in the way

Bruce Wayne x gender!neutral Reader Request

Word count:2.06k

Warnings:swearing, canon typical violence

Request: by justcallm3bymyname on Wattpad

Summary:You and Bruce were friends as children, but what will you do if you meet again after years of not seeing each other...

Masterlist

It was just perfect. The view from the rooftop of Wayne Manor. The sun going down on the horizon and the slowly emerging stars.

"What are you thinking about?"

I turned my head and looked at Bruce. I smiled softly at him and took his hand:"You"

The boy in front of me blushed deeply and gingerly pulled back his hand. I giggled at his antics and slightly nudged his shoulder.

"I made something for you", he mumbled quietly"

"What did you make", I asked.

He pulled out two black bracelets. You could see that the knots that formed the bracelets were handmade wonderfully shimmering stones were worked into their middle.

"Wow", I whispered and grabbed one of them.

"I made those, so that we never forget each other", Bruce explained with a smile. He took the bracelet from my hand and carefully put it around my wrist. I did the same with his.

"Thank you, Bruce", I smiled and pulled him into a hug.

He hesitantly put his arms around me and pulled me closer.

"But I'll never forget about you", I said and pulled away. I hesitated for a second, but then I leaned forward and kissed Bruce on the cheek.

The boy seemed beyond confused, but luckyly for him, Thomas came climbing up the latter to the roof, where we were sitting.

"Here you are", He said and smiled, "Dinner's ready"

Bruce and I nodded and started to climb back down.

"Are you alright, Bruce?", Thomas asked and put a hand on top of his son's forehead, "Are you sick? You look so pale"

Bruce stiffened and eyed me for help.

"He's just hungry", I stated and grabbed Bruce's hand, pulling him away from his dad.

"Oh well, then come on in", Thomas chuckled and eyed our intertwined hands, before walking back inside.

"Do you promise to never forget me?", Bruce asked quietly.

I smiled at him:"I promise"

"This is madness", Jim mumbled after we entered the crime scene.

"It is", I agreed and carefully picked up a picture that was lying on the floor. It showed the Mayor with his children. The recently deceased Mayor.

"God damn freak"

I turned around, when I heard Martinez swear. And there he was. The one and only Batman. A vigilante who had shown up all of a sudden, not only protecting the people of Gotham, but also helping me and Gordon. With his help, Jim and me had become Lieutenants.

"So", Jim mumbled and looked at the corpse of the Mayor, "What do we know?"

I stood aside him, while the Batman was standing in front of us. I looked at him for a brief second, but he immediately caught me staring and I looked back at the Corpse.

"Detective?", Jim asked again.

"Sorry, Lieutenant", The Detective said and hesitantly eyed the Batman standing next to him.

"We got blunt forced trauma, lacerations on the Head. He got hit a lot of times. And hard." the detective mumbled, while Jim walked around the Mayor's corpse.

He pulled out a flashlight and took a closer look at the head.

I furrowed my brows at that:"All the blood is from his head?" I asked.

"No", The Detective said. He proceeded to walk around the chair, but the Batman stood in his way.

"Excuse me", He mumbled after eying him.

"Most of it, is from his head", He pulled away the paper bag, that contained the mayors hand. Jim and I took a closer look.

"Thumb was severed", The detective explained and showed us the mayor's hand.

"Killer could've taken it as a throphy", I suspected. The detective nodded.

"He was alive when it was cut of"

All three of us turned around at the sudden comment, made by the Batman.

"Ecchymosis", he stated,"around the wound."

He turned his head and walked over to the desk, while I inspected the mayor's hand again. And he was right.

"Security detail downstairs said, that the family was out, trick-or-treatin", the detective added while we were looking at the articles that hang all around the room, now covered in what I was hoping to be red paint.

"The mayor was up here alone", he continued while I watched how the Batman cautionly walked down the wooden floor.

"Killer may have come through the skylight"

He stopped. And walked back into the other direction.

"You said there was a card?", I asked.

The detective nodded:"Yeah."

I walked over to him and he slowly handed it to me. I pulled it out of the envelope and I would've laughed if this wasn't a crime scene.

"From your secret friend. Whooo?", I read out loud and eyed the owl on the card.

I opened it and read it out again:"Haven't a clue? Let's play a game, just me and you. What does a liar do when he's dead?"

I furrowed my brows at this, while I noticed how the Batman came closer to us.

"Theres a cipher too", The detective said as I looked back up at him. He handed me the paper and my eyes widened.

'The zodiac is nothing against this', I thought to myself and took a closer look at the cipher. Jim peeked over my shoulder, before looking back at the Batman.

"Any of this mean anything to you?" he asked.

"What's going on in here!?"

A sudden voice pulled us out of our thoughts and the four of us turned around.

Jim looked at me, but I just shrugged.

"We asked him to come, Pete", Jim sighed.

"This is a crime scene", Pete rambled,"It's Mitchell for Christ's snake's!"

He came running towards us:"I got the press downstairs!"

"You know, I cut you a lot of slack, Jim cause we got history, but this", He yelled and pointed at the Batman, "Is way over the line"

I sighed and walked over to him. Pete already wanted to start ranting at me too, but I pulled out the card and showed him the envelope, which had the words to the Batman written on it.

Pete's eyed widened:"Wait, he's involved in this?!"

"No he's not involved", I explained, but Pete nearly exploded.

"How do you know!?!", he shouted,"He's a goddamn vigilante, he could be a suspect!! What are you guys doing to me!? We used to be partners"

I stopped listening to the two of them and walked over to the Batman who took a closer look at the Mayor's head. He glanced at me for a second but then proceeded.

"He lies still", he suddenly mumbled.

"Excuse me?", Pete aksed, still furious.

"The riddle" I explained and held up the card, "What does a liar do when he's dead? He lies still"

Pete seemed pretty speechless and looked back and forth between The card and the Batman.

"Oh Jesus", he mumbled and slowly walked over to us.

"This must be your favorite night of the year, huh pal?", he asked the Batman. I swear, at this point I just wanted to punch Pete in the face. He was a good man, but this crossed a line. The Batman was only here to help.

"Pete..", I mumbled and put a hand on his shoulder, but he pushed me away.

"Happy fuckin Halloween", he ranted.

"Excuse me, Commissioner?", Martinez interfered before Pete could say anything more,"They're ready for your statement"

Pete stood still for a second before he turned back to me:"I want him out of here!"

He pointed his finger at The Batman and then turned to Jim:"Now!" he said and left without any further ado.

I sighed and looked at Jim, before stepping over to The Batman.

"Come on", I mumbled and looked up at him. He looked down at me before turning around and following Jim and me outside. He suddenly stopped and looked at the rather small bloody footprint at the floor.

"Yeah", Jim mumbled, "The kid found him"

The Batman turned around and looked at the son of the mayor who was currently interrogated. The boy glanced at him with tears in his eyes.

"We really gotta go, man", I mumbled and patted his shoulder. He turned around and looked at me before the three of us finally left.

My mind wandered back to the day, I last saw Bruce as I was approaching his apartment now. Alfred had invited me over

after I met him at the market not so long ago.

"It is nice to see you again, Y/N", Alfred smiled after he opened the door for me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I smiled at him, as he took my hand, but I pulled him in for a hug. The old man was like a father to me and I was truly happy to see him again.

"How have you been? Would you like some tea?", he asked after we entered the apartment.

"Yeah, sure", I smiled and looked around.

"Take a seat", Alfred pointed at the table standing in the middle of the room, before he disappeared in the kitchen.

I slowly removed my coat and put it down on a chair, before stepping closer to the windows. The apartment offered an exhilarating view of Gotham City, since it was located at the top of the Wayne Tower.

"Y/N"

I turned around and saw someone who I didn't expect to ever see again.

"Bruce", I mumbled perplexed. How was a confused to meet Bruce in his own apartment?

I shook of my nervousness and walked over to him.

"It's nice seeing you again", I smiled. I carefully took his hand, but what I saw surprised me.

A chuckle left Bruce's lips, as he also grabbed my hand.

"You still have it", he mumbled and carefully stroke the bracelet that he once made for me.

"You too", I grinned and carefully touched the bracelet around his wrist.

"Would you like some honey in your te-"

We suddenly parted as Alfred came in with tea and cookies in his hands.

As soon as he saw Bruce and me standing so close to each other, a smile crept up on his face.

"I can see, you two have some things to discuss, don't you?", he asked and put the tea down on the table, "I'll leave you to it"

"Alfred-", Bruce mumbled but his butler and father figure was already gone again.

I giggled and grabbed the tea pot, pouring him and me a cup. I grabbed one and handed it to Bruce. He cautionly took it and waited for me to grab mine.

"Seems like we have no choice", I smiled and waited for him to clink his cup against mine, before taking a sip.

"Seems like it", Bruce agreed softly.

How can so much shit happen to a person in one day? That's what I asked myself, while I was on my way to Bruce's apartment. After our last meeting, we saw each other at least once a week. Bruce seemed to be a busy man, even if he didn't tell me what he was busy with. I wasn't better myself. As a lieutenant and with the current situation, it was not so easy to find some time. With the Riddler running around Gotham and killing more or less important people, the whole city was frightened.

And in all of this, was the Batman. The vigilante had somehow made it all easier. Just knowing, that he was out there, protecting the good people of Gotham, somehow made me feel safe, or at least safer.

I looked up into the sky, as I heard the thunder crashing. I should hurry, before it would start raining, but than I saw him. The Batman. Standing on a rooftop and looking down at the busy streets. But as soon as I noticed him, he disappeared. I huffed and continued my way to Bruce's apartment.

I wasn't greeted with a usually so happy Alfred, since he wasn't home as he attended a business meeting for Bruce, so I let myself in. I knew about the spare key under the door mat, so I hurried to get inside.

I quickly put my coat down on a chair and went wandering through the apartment, trying to find Bruce.

"Bruce!?", I whisper-yelled and stopped in front of his bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and I peeked inside. What I saw, made my eyes go wide. It was just Bruce, but his back was turned towards me. His upper half was naked and I could see dozens of scars and wounds on his back.

"What the hell?", I mumbled to myself, as I watched how Bruce pulled a shirt over his head. I have to admit, it was a sight to see how his muscles flexed at his actions.

He suddenly turned around and I tried to back off as fast as possible, but it was to late.

" Y/N? ", Bruce came trotting towards me and the door flung open.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to-", I stuttered and looked at the floor out of embarrassment.

"It's alright", Bruce chuckled and slightly scratched his neck.

"I need to talk to you", he said and broke the upcoming silence,"Or...I need to show you something"

"Ehm.. Okay", I mumbled and followed Bruce as he grabbed my hand and guided me through the apartment. We entered a corridor, that I never saw before.

"Bruce, what-", I started, but he opened a door and suddenly we entered a room as big as a church. Or at least, it looked like it. A huge monitor was installed in front of a desk, which was full of documents and papers. I stepped closer and recognized Files and evidences from our current Riddler-case.

"How did you get these?", I asked confused and turned back around, but Bruce was gone.

"Bruce?", I asked. No answer.

Suddenly, I head heavy footsteps approaching me. My jaw dropped at the sight in front of me. None other than the Batman himself. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"B-Bruce?!", I asked perplexed. He nodded and came closer to me. I cautionly stepped back untill I felt my back hit the table and the Batman was standing mere inches away from me. He slowly lifted his hands towards his mask. He seemed to unclasp it before slowly lifting it. Now it was clear...

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

I was too confused to say anything so I simply lifted my hand and softly grasped his cheek.

Bruce closed his eyes and leaned into my touch.

"You're always talking about him", he said and put his hand on top of mine, "I thought that you should know... Who he is"

"Yeah", I mumbled and pushed away a strand of hair, that hung around his face, "I should know.

Bruce came even closer, so that I could feel the chest plate of his Armour bump against me. His other hand wandered around my waist.

" Bruce... ", I whispered and slowly closed my eyes, as I felt his lips touch mine. They were slightly chapped but soft nevertheless.

I sighed into the kiss and put my hand around Bruce's neck.

"I missed you", He mumbled against my lips,"So much. All those years. I never forgot you"

"Me too", I smiled and reconnected our lips,"I never stopped loving you"

"Me neither", Bruce agreed. His grip around my waist tightend.

"I don't know, what got in the way, but I'll never let it happen again", he promised, "I'll never let something get in the way again"

Riddle me this!?

Bruce Wayne x female!reader

Word count:2.1k

Warnings:none really, canon typical violence

Summary: After an incident at the Mayor's funeral, Bruce finally realizes what you actually mean to him...

Masterlist

My footsteps echoed dully through the corridors of the bat cave as I walked over to Bruce. He stood in front of the monitor, his mask abandoned on the table. Slicks of wet hair hung around his face and the remains of his black eyeshadow ran down his face.

"Bruce?"

No answer. I sighed and stepped closer, grabbing his hand.

"Bruce?"

He finally looked up, his grip around my hand tightend. I gave him a reassuring smile while my eyes scanned his features. To be honest, he looked like shit. Dark eyebags lingered under the eyeshadow and a few scratches adorned his beautiful face.

My eyes finally resting on his, I felt how Bruce pulled me closer to him. I hid my head in his chest, as I took in his scent. He smelled like rain and dirt and the faint smell of blood lingered on his clothes.

"You need to shower", I finally said and looked up, "The Commemoration for the Mayor is today"

Bruce nodded and turned his face back to the monitor. The news were playing and they were full of the mysterious new villian, who called himself the Riddler.

"You're gonna find him", I said and slightly squeezed Bruce's hand.

"I know", he mumbled and looked down, "Will you accompany me today?"

"Of course", I smiled, "It'll be good for you to be out a little bit"

Bruce looked at me perplexed:"I am out every night"

I sighed:"I know. And I have to admit, sometimes I wish, you weren't"

Bruce looked down and pulled me closer by my hand.

"I know", he mumbled and softly rested his chin on top of my head, "I know"

I pulled away from him:"Im gonna go find Alfred, see you later"

Bruce nodded. His hand left mind and I felt cold on an instant.

Once again, my steps echoed through the empty corridors , as I left the cave, on my to find Alfred.

"Bruce?", my voice was so silent, that he almost didn't hear me, but when his eyes locked mine, I knew that he had heard me.

"Y/N", Bruce said.

His eyes scanned my face for a second before he turned back to the road.

I swear, Bruce was the only wealthy person in this city, who would drive himself.

After a few minutes, we reached the church and I could already see the crowds of paparazzi, waiting at the entrance. Bruce stopped the car and looked at me one last time, before getting out. I followed him and immediately, the journalists were after Bruce, like he was some wild animal.

"Mr. Wayne, do you have a moment!?"

"Mr. Wayne, can you tell us, why you're here?"

"Are you planning to support the new Mayor, Mr. Wayne?!"

"Mr Wayne, is that your Girlfriend!?"

The last question caught me of guard. I locked eyes with Bruce and he turned his back towards the paparazzi and grabbed my hand. I slightly leaned against his side, while we waited.

I allowed my mind to wander and suddenly started to wonder, what Bruce and I were at all. We have always been close, since we were children. That was of course, due to the connection our families always had. With me being an Arkham and Bruce being a Wayne, our ways had to cross at some point. And since Bruce' parents died, we've been even more Inseparable.

I was torn away from my thoughts, as I felt Bruce gently tuck on my arm.

I looked up and his steel blue eyes stared at me, with compassion in them.

"Come on", he mumbled and pulled me towards the entrance.

We were about to step in, when Bruce spotted Carmine Falcone in the crowd. Alongside him was Oswald Cobblepot aka the Pinguin.

Bruce's grip around my arm tightend and I saw his jaw clench.

"Bruce", I mumbled, trying to calm him down and pull him past Falcone but it was hopeless.

"Bruce!", I heard Falcone say and while he began to explain the history of him and Bruce's father, my gaze fell upon the Pinguin. He was supposed to listen to Falcone, but his heavy gaze rested on me.

I shyly pressed myself closer to Bruce. He looked at me for a Second and finally decided to put his arm around me.

"Ah, of course. How could I forget!?", Falcone suddenly said and looked at me, "You must be Y/N Arkham, aren't you?"

"Yes", I mumbled and gave him a firm smile.

"I remember you and Bruce playing around, when you were still children", Falcone grinned.

Only now, he seemed to notice how Cobblepot eyed me. Falcone patted his shoulder:"Oooz, you're intimidating her, can't you see?"

Cobblepot smiled and grasped my hand. I felt Bruce step forward, but he stopped himself from attacking the Pinguin.

"I'm sorry, my lady", Cobblepot smiled and kissed the back of my hand.

"Ehm, I-It's fine. Really", I mumbled and looked at Bruce for support.

"We should get inside", he mumbled, "Excuse us"

Once we were inside, I let out a breath, I didn't realize I had held in.

"Are you alright?", Bruce whispered close to my ear. A shiver ran down my spine, at his husky voice being so close.

"Yes", I finally said and looked at him, "And you?"

" 'm fine", he mumbled and pulled me towards the front.

"Mr. Wayne", someone suddenly said. We turned around and saw the Mayor approaching us.

"Bella Réal", she said and shook his hand.

"Y/N, it's nice to see you again", She said towards me and pulled me in for a hug. I gladly hugged her back and smiled at her:"The pleasure's all mine, Bella", I said.

"You know her?", Bruce asked me perplexed.

"I do", I mumbled.

Bella's gaze fell upon the wife and son of the deceased mayor.

"I'm gonna go, give my condolences", She said.

"I'll join you", I added and stepped away from Bruce.

His hand lingered on mine for a moment.

"See you in a few", I said and smiled at him. He gave me a weak smile in return and I finally turned around a followed Bella towards the family.

A few minutes into the conversation, I slowly felt myself drift off. I didn't listen to the others anymore, as I gazed over at the entrance. A hushed sound came from outside of the building. It sounded like screeching tires.

My brows furrowed, as the noise grew louder and louder. My eyes scanned the crowd for Bruce and as I finally spotted him, a loud bang came from outside. The whole crowd looked at the entrance now.

Bruce suddenly turned around, his eyes wide open and he started to sprint towards me.

Seconds later, I could see the SUV crashing towards the door. I heard people scream and run away. But suddenly, I felt Bruce's arms wraps around my waist and he pulled me out of the way. The car crashed against the altar.

I looked up and saw Bruce, hovering over me.

"Are you alright?", He asked and held out his hand for me.

"I'm okay", I breathed and grabbed his hands. He pulled me to my feet.

I felt how Bruce pushed me behind him, as the police started to rush in, demanding that the driver got out of the car.

My eyes widened, when I saw that it was the district attorney. The one, Bruce and Selena had been spying on yesterday.

"Shit", I mumbled, but flinched away slightly, when suddenly a phone rang loudly.

Bruce grabbed my arm, as the attorney lifted his hand, showing a phone taped to his hand.

"Everyone out of here!!", The police yelled and slowly the crowd started to rush outside.

"Go!", Bruce said and turned around.

"Come with me", I mumbled and grabbed his hand.

"You know, I can't", he said.

I sighed:"I know"

"I will come back", he assured and kissed the top of my head.

I looked at him with desperation in my eyes. I couldn't help myself, so I grabbed his cheek and pulled his head down to me, connecting out lips in a short and tender kiss.

"Go!", I said and our ways parted.

"Y/N, you need to calm down", Alfred said and grasped my hand.

"I know, Alfred. But I can't", I mumbled.

We saw it. We saw the explosion. The district attorney had exploded right in front of Bruce and right after that, we lost contact. His lenses not working anymore.

"Shit", I mumbled as my gaze landed on the TV next to us. I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. I couldn't believe my eyes. The pictures on the news, showed how Batman jumped from the police building, flying down the streets and finally disappearing under a bridge. And explosion went of a little bit later.

"That enough", I said, "I'm gonna go out and find him."

"Y/N,no!",Alfred protested and stepped in front of me.

"What if he's hurt!?", I asked, as I felt tears swelling up.

"I know, Y/N", Alfred said and in his eyes, I saw that he was just as afraid for Bruce as I was.

Alfred pulled me into a hug and I squeezed my eyes shut, while I felt tears running down my cheeks.

"I'm alright"

My eyes shot open and I turned around, as I heard the voice of Bruce, right behind us.

"Bruce", Alfred and I said simultaneously.

We rushed forward and caught him right in time. Bruce stumbled into our arms and we quickly helped him into his room.

While Alfred went to get the medical kit, I pulled away the Mask, looking for any injuries. I spotted a laceration on his forehead and his eyes were dizzy.

"Y/N", Bruce mumbled and grabbed my hand.

"I'm here", I said.

Alfred came back with the medical kit and we slowly started to patch Bruce up.

It was going to be a long night.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to lay down and close my eyes so desperately, but I couldn't.

I sat the the table in the living room with Alfred. The breakfast was long forgotten, as we waited impatiently for Bruce to wake up.

"I'm afraid, that I have to leave you for a while", Alfred said, "I have to attend a few meetings for Master Bruce"

I only nodded and said my goodbyes before settling back down.

I leaned my head against my hand and I could feel myself dozing off again and again.

After a few minutes of keeping my eyes shut, I slowly opened them again, but what I saw on front of me, was unbelievable.

"Bruce!!", I said and jumped up. But Bruce only sat there in front of me, were Alfred had sat only minutes ago.

"Oh my God, are you alright!?", I asked and kneeled down in front of him, grasping his cheek.

Bruce chuckled and put his hand on top of mine. I think, I didn't see him smile in years.

"I'm alright", he mumbled and squeezed my hand.

I sighed calmy and looked down, before I felt Bruce grab my chin and pulling my head back up.

He rose to his feet and pulled me with him.

"I was so scared of loosing you", he mumbled and pushed back a stray hair of mine.

"You... What?", I asked perplexed.

"Back at the Funeral", He said and looked into my eyes, "When that Car crashed into the church, I was so scared that I could loose you. And it made me realize something. Something, that I always knew, but was too afraid to admit"

I gulped and scanned his face. It showed nothing but adoration.

"Bruce...", I mumbled, but before I could say anything more, his lips were on mine and he pulled me impossibly closer to his chest.

I sighed and my hand snuck around his neck, while his arms encircled my waist.

"I love you", Bruce finally mumbled against my lips.

"I love you", I repeated and smiled at him.

"I can see, that you two have finally come to admit it", Alfred suddenly said.

I turned around and saw him standing in the doorway. A smile adorned his features.

I felt Bruce lay an arm around me.

"Seems like, we did", he smiled.

"We did", I agreed, "We did"

am I the only one who doesn't find attractive when dicks in smuts are super long? I just read a fic where the male character's dick was 11 inches (which is around 30 cm)… like- how is that even possible and how on earth am I supposed to even DEAL with something like that? do I use it as a baseball bat?

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it fit" THE HELL YOU WILL?! STAY AWAY

(I'm not trying to offend any author here, I think we all have the right to write every kink and preferences we have so don't take this too seriously, you're doing great 🩷🙏🏻)

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤLOVE MY BODYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : The Most Basic Question. Tits, Ass Or Thighs?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : There are some +18 parts. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Tits. 100%. Classy.

You catch his eyes dipping to your chest mid-conversation. Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing—a tight dress, his button-down shirt, or even just a tank top and pajama pants—he’s looking. Bruce is an ass man in public, a thigh man in theory, but when it comes down to it? He worships your tits in private like they’re sculpted by gods.

He's the type to wrap a diamond necklace around your neck, only to trail it slowly down between your breasts, eyes hooded, voice gravelly:

“You have no idea how hard it is to focus when you look like this.”

Loves sucking on them when he’s stressed. Burying his face in your chest when he gets home late. One hand palming your breast while the other types on the Batcomputer like nothing's wrong. He’s obsessed in that quiet and unrelenting way. The way a storm looms on the horizon. Cold fingers sliding under your bra while you’re trying to talk about something innocent.

And when he’s really in the mood? He’ll sit you in his lap, kiss down your chest like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste, and say with that low rasp:

“These are mine. You know that, right?”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Ass. Without shame.

Dick is an ass man to his core. It’s not even a debate. He’s the type to openly admire it in the mirror while you’re getting dressed. The kind who walks by and gives you a casual, playful slap that’s way too possessive to be innocent.

His hands naturally find your hips, always pulling you closer until your butt’s flush against him. He’s the type to lay on the couch with you on top of him, hands running down your sides just to grip your ass like it's his anchor.

“God, babe… you’re killing me. You seriously expect me to behave when you’re walking around looking like that?”

When you bend over—even slightly—it’s over for him. He gets feral. He’ll pause mid-sentence just to gawk. Like a golden retriever seeing food.

Dick’s favorite position? Anything where he can grip, spread, and praise that ass like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. He’ll smack it, groan like a sinner in church, and whisper against your skin:

“You’ve got the best ass in Gotham, baby. Don’t even argue.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Thighs. The Sinner’s Choice.

Jason is a thigh man and you know he is. It’s the way his gaze lingers when you’re sitting with your legs crossed. The way he kisses your inner thighs for way too long before doing anything else. The way he grips them like a man starved.

Big hands squeezing your thighs while you're straddling him? That’s his therapy. That’s his church.

He especially loves when you wear thigh-highs or those tiny shorts you think he didn’t notice. You’ll catch him staring, jaw clenched, knuckles white, and five minutes later he’s on his knees, spreading your legs, murmuring,

“You really gonna tease me like that, baby? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Jason doesn’t even try to hide it. He’ll rest his head on your lap and just inhale you like your thighs are made of heaven. Obsessed with hickeys on your inner thighs—territorial and tender at the same time. And when he's feeling really possessive?

“No one gets to touch these but me. Say it.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Tits & Thighs, but he lies and says it’s your mind.

Damian acts like he’s above it. That he’s too focused, too honorable, too disciplined to be distracted by something so carnal.

But the second you stretch, yawn, or lie on your stomach in one of his shirts? His eyes zero in like a falcon on prey.

He’ll never say it out loud, but he’s a tits and thigh man. Dual weakness. He worships your body with that intense, reverent devotion that makes your heart race. He doesn’t just look—he memorizes. The curve of your thighs when you're asleep, the weight of your chest in his hands, how your nipples react to his touch. He's studious and unrelenting.

When you ask him directly?

“What do you like most about me?”

He’ll narrow his eyes, smirk like the smug bitch he is, and reply,

“Your intelligence, obviously.”

All while his hand is halfway up your thigh and his other is resting on your chest.

He kisses your thighs like he's pledging allegiance, palms your breasts like he’s claiming a throne. In private he’s downright filthy. He’ll pull you into his lap, growl in your ear in Arabic, and say with absolute finality:

“You are mine. Every inch of you. And I will never tire of you.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

Ass. But he tries to pretend he's not down bad.

Terry thinks he’s slick. Thinks he’s keeping it cool. The boy grew up in Neo-Gotham, wears a skintight Batsuit, flirts like he’s Bruce Wayne himself—but he’s not fooling anyone.

He’s an ass man through and through.

You’ll catch him staring when you walk away. You’ll feel his hand ghost over your lower back during hugs, just low enough to be suggestive. And when you call him out, he’ll smirk like he’s innocent.

“What? Just admiring my girl. Can’t a man appreciate fine art?”

Terry likes bending you over his bike, holding you tight against his chest with a hand planted firmly on your backside. Night flights? Always an excuse to touch. Back home? He’s got your ass in both hands, eyes glazed over like it’s the cure to every bad day.

But the filthiest part? He talks during. Low, breathy praise in your ear:

“All mine. You know that, right? Nobody else gets to see you like this. Nobody touches what belongs to me.”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

Thighs. Gentleman. Pervert. Dangerous combo.

Barry looks like a soft, calm man. Wheelchair-bound, polite, smiling, with warm hands and careful eyes.

But beneath that? He’s got the mind of a freak and a thigh fixation that runs deep.

It’s all about control for Barry—the way your thighs twitch when he kisses the inside, the way you squirm when he goes slow. His hands are always on your legs. Stroking them, gripping them, resting possessively over your knees in public like a silent claim.

“You're always so tense, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

He has a special seat adjustment in his chair so you can straddle him when he pulls you into his lap. There’s something sinful about the way he kisses your thigh with adoration, then bites like he’s claiming you inch by inch.

And when you wear short skirts around him? You’re not leaving the house without a long, lingering stare and:

“Don’t test me. I may not walk—but I’ll drag you back to bed.”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

Tits. Doesn’t understand why he’s obsessed. Just is.

Cassian doesn’t speak a lot. He expresses himself with action. Touch, breath, the sound of a soft grunt in your neck.

But the one thing that makes him visibly weak?

Your tits.

He gets flustered when you’re in anything low-cut. His eyes dip without meaning to, jaw tightening like he’s mad at himself for looking—but he can’t stop. He likes resting his head there. Likes the feel of you against him. The way you fit in his lap, soft and warm and everything he doesn’t think he deserves.

But don’t mistake his silence for innocence. Cassian touches you like he’s memorizing. Like your breasts are sacred, fragile, and sinful all at once.

kiss, kiss, press his cheek to them, breathe hard—groan like a sinner breaking.

He’ll get rough sometimes—biting, sucking, marking—but afterward, he looks at you like he’s ashamed of how much he needs you. Like he’s afraid he’ll ruin you just by loving you too hard.

You tell him you like it, and he just nods. No words. Just pulls you to him again and palms your tits with reverent, desperate hands.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

Ass & Tits. Greedy.

Stephen is energetic in the sheets. The type to laugh mid-makeout, worship you like a goddess, and never stop touching you. But if he had to pick?

“Ass. No, wait—tits. Shit. Can I pick both? Please? Come on, don’t make me suffer.”

He’ll literally spin you around in his hands, grabbing your ass, motorboating your chest, moaning like you just gave him a million bucks. Every moment with him is hands-on, mouth-on, needy.

He’s the one smacking your butt in the kitchen, squeezing your tits while you brush your teeth, throwing himself into your lap like he deserves it all.

“You’re so hot, babe, I could write poetry about your curves. Limericks. Whole damn musicals.”

Stephen’s a playful lover, but when he gets serious? He gets serious. Pushes you against the wall, whispers in your ear with a trembling voice:

“No one’s ever gonna touch you like this. I’ll kill them. You get that, right?”

Then immediately follows it with, “Also, your tits are amazing. Just saying.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

A flourishing Future

Overwhelmed with the response from this au!! I truly enjoy writing it whenever I have a spare moment. I feel so inspired and hope you enjoy this and all that comes! requests are open! word count: 1k+ warnings: a little sad, but very sweet

Alfred had every right to be panicked.

For this one day, all he had to do was ensure that Master Wayne’s girls were kept safe within the grounds. Forget the upkeep of the housework, the paperwork, or any errands needed to be run. On this one day, he had to ensure the comfort and wellbeing of Mrs Wayne and the newly-arrived Miss Wayne. It hadn’t even been 3 hours, let alone a day, and he had failed.

Bruce was not going to be happy.

“Keep them safe. Keep them warm - and keep them happy.” Bruce had repeated as the butler had ushered him out of the door. Something about a meeting that couldn’t wait, meaning that Bruce would be influencing a firing or two of whoever made him leave his family.

Now Alfred was sure he would be first on the list.

“Mrs Wayne?! Miss- where-? Mrs Wayne?” He had been calling for 15 minutes, checking every room to no avail. You and your 6 day old daughter had vanished.

Meanwhile, you’d decided that without Bruce being around to all but keep you captive in the north wing of the manor, you'd make a break for the walled garden. You needed peace, some fresh air, and for your sweet girl to take her first glances at the flowers her father had planted for her. (Not himself, of course, but the gardener. Bruce Wayne already had a habit that got his hands plenty dirty).

You are so busy showing your child the pink posies, scarlet carnations, and the tangled strands of ivy that have already started to sweep the wall easily seen from her own nursery, that you lose track of the time.

Alfred is all but sweating when he finds you.

Master Bruce had been due home shortly, and the butler’s relief in finding you and your daughter snuggled together on the bench dedicated to Bruce’s parents, could not be exaggerated. You’d thrown on one of Bruce’s sweatshirts over your silk nightdress, and bundled your daughter in the very blankets your husband himself had been swaddled in all those years ago, a grey letter “W” stitched into the corner of the plush material. Bruce had never thought to keep such items when he was a young man who lived alone in the manor, who was bitter and hardened within his heart.

He’s eternally grateful that Alfred did.

“Mrs Wayne!” Alfred gasps. “You’ve given me a heart attack - you should be grateful it’s warm enough and that Master Bruce hasn’t returned-”

“I think they would’ve loved her, right?” your words halt him in body and mind. “She makes Bruce so happy, makes us all so deliciously happy. I wish they could’ve met her. I wish I could have, too. I always do.”

No more words are shared between you and Alfred. Instead as you share a look of bittersweet understanding. His wishes to see his master become happy had come true, and now he wished more than anything that he was serving three generations of the Wayne family within one home, watching them all grow together. To witness everything that they had deserved.

Bruce introducing you to his parents. His mother’s initial concern. His father’s careful words of understanding as he’d watch his son fall fast and fall hard. Reassurance from both parents when you’d had your first argument and he was terrified to lose you. Family dinners and laughter and trips to the local orphanages and hospitals to each do your part in bringing one more piece of joy to the city.

Bruce picking out a ring with his mother. A celebration held in the manor for the Wayne heir’s engagement to his beautiful fiancée. Wedding pearls gifted to you as “something borrowed” from Martha on your wedding day. Joyful and teary expressions as you’d tell them that they would finally be grandparents. Bruce’s father sitting him down with a whisky, earnestly telling his son how proud he was of the legacy he would continue, and that stepping up to be a father would be the most honourable thing he could ever do. Martha planning your baby shower. Bruce leaving the Regency room with a sleepy newborn to show his antsy mother and father the newest member of the Wayne family.

You were right, Alfred thought. Mr and Mrs Wayne would’ve adored your daughter, and loved you wholeheartedly as their own.

Life could be a cruel beast.

“Please, both of you should come inside. Master Bruce will be home, and none of us need the telling off.”

With that, the three of you start to head inside, Alfred being sure to wrap his coat over your shoulders, and enquiring after his youngest charge, who by now is fast asleep due to lungfuls of fresh air and the stories you’ve told her about her Grandfather and Grandmother.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Bruce finds the two of you safely tucked away in the north wing library, relieved that you are both safe and well. Before he can comment on how seeing you both again was a sight for his sore eyes, you look up from your book and smile gently. In one arm you hold his baby girl, while you read from a book decorated with swirls and vines. A fairy tale, most likely.

If he notices the gravel on your slippers, or the pink petals caught on the edge of his daughter’s blanket, then he doesn’t mention it.

“My girls.” He whispers with a soft grin, before making 4 large strides to the loveseat you have rearranged into a warm nest. A soft kiss is pressed to your lips and the book is quickly forgotten, reaching the floor with a soft thump. “My love” he whispers tenderly as he gazes at you in full adoration, heart soaring as you mirror his actions. He reaches for his angel within the blankets brings her close to his chest, whispering to her as softly as the wind that brushes oh-so-gently past the petals of the rose bush you’d admired earlier.

“My sweet girl. Daddy’s never leaving you and your Mother again.”

Life may have been cruel to the Wayne family those many years ago, but now new life was breaking through. And Alfred would have the honour of witnessing it all.

i don't wanna be fucked like a slut and then discarded.

i wanna be fucked like you've never been loved before; i want to be used and folded and manhandled like i'm some sex doll you bought for cheap online. i want your eyes rolling back, your entire body flushed, tears pricking the surface of your eyes. i want you spent and overstimulated but unable to control yourself as your hips snap up into mine, because it feels so good, too good, and even though your vision is bordered in black, it's not enough to command your body to pull away.

you need it. you need it you need it you need it.

your thoughts are a mush in your head, melted into soup by the heat heavy in your cheeks. you can't string together a single coherent sentence. you barely know what's happening.

your mind is blank.

maybe you're even begging me to understand. "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i'm sorry...."

see, if you fuck me like i'm a slut, the goal is to just get it out of your system. that can take five minutes. that's not enough for me.

i want to be fucked like you're the slut.

Returnee

(Justice League Various x Reader) After centuries of surviving in a world without another human in sight, you return and find the heroes you once admired to be the only interesting things around, besides beating the shit out of monsters, of course.

Implied sexual content ahead, minors DNI.

You would describe yourself to be the pinnacle of mediocrity, your life consisting of drowning in course readings and dealing with people’s bullshit in your customer service job. You existed. You may not have been wholly content, but you got by.

And, sure you, like millions of other desolate young adults, had fantasies of escapism, being strong, being someone special. But you ultimately knew your place. You were no hero; no alien or chosen human that could answer to a greater calling. You were just you, average in every way. So unlike the heroes and villains that occupy your world. You’ll never make an impact that’ll even come close to the likes of them.

The only thing you can hope to do is try to make your parent’s suffering of starting a life here worth it. That all the money and work invested in you would have some sort of pay off. Even if it means you had to traverse a path you’re still uncertain about.

You knew your limits, and maybe that rigid acceptance is what led to your own self destruction.

You find yourself in a desolate world void of humans but occupied with beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before, with sharpened talons and razored blades for teeth. No matter how much you cry and scream you do not wake up. The only communication you get comes in the form of ‘tabs’ that resemble something out of a video game. It’s gives you quests to adhere, reminders to keep things interesting, notifications you’re being watched by deities that watch your struggle like a show to tune into. Every moment, no matter how humiliating, is spectated.

You want nothing more to return to the life you had, answer the messages you never got the chance to respond to, try the things you never got to even attempt. You curse your inaction, your own spoiled thoughts from a lifetime ago, your parents for even giving birth to you if this is the reality you have to face.

Your survival hangs on a thread at first, you only being able to run away from the larger beasts. Eventually your tears dry, you fight back against the ones smaller than you. These Outergods sponsor you with a game like currency. You level up. You acquire gear better than a makeshift bone shiv. You consume. You sleep. And you do it all over again for the next couple centuries in this world. You do not age, but you grow taller, strengthened by the creatures you slaughter. Eventually, you don’t need a blade to slay them anymore. Then the beasts try to avoid you. You still kill them. They’re never ending. The least they can do is give you something to do in their infinity.

You stop feeling fear, sadness, indignation, and even hatred. You exist. You somewhat remember the life and name you had before. You don’t really feel one way about it or the other. Your family, obligations, and old identity are all null and void to you now.

Clearly your spectators grow bored as they send you back to the world you once called yours. Apparently barely a year has passed since you were taken, even if you might be the oldest human to walk Earth now.

For the first time in a long time, you’re struck with uncertainty. A world that isn’t stuck in time, one loud with the presence of people, and yet you feel no relief or sanctity in the safety of your old home. No, you’re struck with how just like in that beast world, you’re still horrifically, agonizingly bored.

Until you notice a hoard of androids terrorize the street. You can feel the blood thrumming in your veins, and you realize with renewed vigour that it wasn’t bloodshed that you had yearned for, but the thrill of battle, not knowing if you’ll live, and putting everything you had left on the line after abandoning the softness that once defined your modern life.

And so you fought. You were barely grazed with a laser, but you could appreciate the adrenaline rushing through your body, the uncertainty of a new adversary. You paid little mind to the screaming civilians trying to evacuate the streets, all you cared about was tearing about these metal beings before they could even try to do the same to you.

You’re broken from the euphoria of battle when you feel a whoosh of air behind you, and a dozen androids deactivate before you.

“Hey there, don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” what appeared to be living electrical energy clad in crimson spoke to you, in a tone you could almost recognize as friendly. “Not that I mind the help! I’m always happy to meet—!”

You can feel your pupils dilate as every inch of your body screams that this man is dangerous. Powerful. Different from the fodder you faced before.

“—so, what do you go by?”

Summoning your broad sword, you swiftly slam it into the ground below, watching the man get tossed back by its force as the concrete crumbles beneath him.

You toss your sword to where he lands, but he quickly recovers and disappears before reappearing before you.

“Woah, what are you—“ you interrupt him by throwing a punch but he dodges again, “Can we talk about this sudden aggression—!?”

Tiring of his evasion, you recall your sword and prepare to strike the ground again before pausing as a sudden rush of memories strikes you.

“Ah,” you hum, before stretching out your hand, halting the approaching speedster that stares at you confused. “You’re that one hero…Bolt, or whatever. Speed guy.”

Yes, a hero. Not a warrior. Not a survivor. And certainly not a killer. You feel the apathy rush back as you stare at him. No, you wouldn’t get a real fight out of him. He’d sooner try to subdue you. Non-lethally. Honestly, he was way too nice.

“Flash? I mean, I’m the Flash, hero of the city you’re in!” The speedster fumbles for a second, starting at you in puzzlement.

“Yeah, let’s just call it here.” You sigh before walking away. You definitely forgot heroes were a thing for a second. And takeout.

You’re stopped in your tracks when Flash blocks your path.

“Woah there, you can’t just leave!” He protests.

“Why not?”

“You took down like hundreds of androids, attacked me, and-and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Hmm, I think I forgot my name,” you reply, bring a hand up to your chin in mock contemplation.

“What-?”

“Do you want to have sex with me or something?” You ask. “Because you’re being a bit clingy, man.”

The hero states at you with his mouth agape, and you can see the red flush growing around his cowl.

“I get it, it’s pretty easy for arousal to mix with thrill in battle. I won’t say I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got things to do, people to fight, and I doubt I can get what I need from you,” you explain nonchalantly. “But hey, keep your head up, man. There’s some charm in being the fastest man alive. I’d test it under different circumstances, really.”

You back away as Flash remains still as a statue, exposed skin now matching his suit as he blankly watched you leave.

“What just happened…?”

Honestly you don't have anything against heroes. You pity them, really. They remind you of your own inexperience once upon a time, fighting against the inevitable. But you can't deny that there are some with years beyond even yours, continuing to fight in their crusade.

Some more interesting than others.

Hawkgirl, who you recall to have been a member of the Justice Society of America, was someone that made you look like a babe in comparison to the lifetimes held in that strong body. Good fighter too. You're almost disappointed your battle was interrupted by another invasion and she apparently found you to be an ally rather than an opponent after that. You just wanted to see if those aliens were worth a damn.

Wonder Woman also stood out for the same reason, encountering her when you arrived at Themyscira for a duel with their strongest. And boy did she deliver. But sadly you could see that she adopted a non-lethal style, fighting only till first blood rather than to the death.

At least their bathhouse was luxurious even if it was communal. Diana said that it was for bonding. You think she was totally checking you out.

You could say that you were becoming increasingly familiar with the growing Justice League, encountering its members every so often.

You didn't pick a fight, aware it would be more trouble than it was worth. You doubt you'd be too satisfied either.

So when you find yourself encountering the Bat in Gotham after subduing Clayface, you're not surprised.

You're also not surprised when he recites your name and missing status.

He drones on about the circumstances of your disappearance, your return as a much stronger (and hotter) individual, and your dubious intentions.

You throw you sword at him, and he ducks out of the way, throwing you a glare just as sharp as your blade.

You explain that he's not a great speaker, and he should invest in some interpersonal communication courses. And that's coming from you. You then add you'll leave after you try the recently opened batburger.

He gives you a ride in his Batmobile.

Superman was a bit of an irritating figure. A boy scout, despite his godlike abilities. Staring at him, you wonder how much kinetic force it would take to burst the blood vessels beneath that impenetrable skin.

"We would really like for you to visit the Watchtower! We understand if you may not want to commit to being a full time member, so if we could call on you—!"

He pauses when you outstretch your hand and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He places his hand in yours, almost as if it was instinct, blushing when you brush your thumb across his skin.

You hum in thought before departing.

"Uh, wait! Was that a yes!?"

You're pretty sure you're about to bed Green Lantern. You had come to Coast City, curious to see if any disasters would occur to alleviate your boredom, but had instead ran into a man with swoopy hair and an nice aviator jacket in a bar. He was pleasant. He seemed charmed by your Superman/Lex Luthor conspiracy theories. And he talked about flying with a passion unfamiliar to you.

So when you ended up at his place, back against his door as he kissed and nipped at your neck, you pulled him back by his brown hair to look at you.

"I'm a virgin, by the way."

He stares at you incredulously with a touch of concern. "Are you sure this is how you want your first time to go? We don't have to do this."

You doubt you'll get a fight out of him. He'd probably just trap you in a construct, but there are other ways for you to get physical.

...and you needed the experience for the next time an Amazonian propositions you.

"I like you well enough. And I've waited a long time to actually do something like this," you reply, still playing with his hair.

"You really want to do this with an older guy?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely the older one here."

His lip twitches as he shoots you an amused look, "And I'm Batman."

"Do you really want to talk about him before we-?”

The lantern silences you with another hot kiss that you grin into.

Yes, this Justice League certainly made things interesting, even if some of them were obnoxious do-gooders.

Hal: So, what's your name?

Returnee, with jumbled memories: Demonic Blade of Slaughter

Hal:

Returnee: Do you want to have sex?

Returnee: So, yeah, I was trapped in a monster world for presumably centuries with these outer world gods being the only other sentient beings and they only made contact via stream chat donations. And the only thing that even elicits any emotional or physiological response in me is violence.

Batman, internally dying:

Returnee: Don't worry, I don't fight street tiers like you.

Diana: It's been a while since l've last had such an invigorating bout, I would love to spend more time testing how far we can push each other to... our limits.

Returnee, who spent the last centuries off Earth as a virgin: I hear the glory of battle calling, must be off, let's fight again soon!

Outergods: Okay, so the human has definitely cleared this world, so how about we return this bloody thirsty heathen back to their original world and see what entertainment we find in the chaos—!

Outergods: Okay, so they're just having sex with all these superpowered individuals. And is that—-Oh my god, is that Constantine!?

Outergods: Yeah, no, this is hot, I'm donating 10k coins for that.

Clearing out my drafts! I really love the whole system in ORV and I found the returnee concept so interesting. Masterlist

Headcanons for being the Justice League’s computer intelligence

Justice League x reader

warnings:

a/n: THANKS BABE. this is such an old request i am so freaking sorry

prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I would like to request a Justice League (DC Extended Universe) + Reader who is sort of their 'Person in the Chair' - helping behind the scenes to keep their weapons/powers/skillset in tact, but is not afraid to fight back if necessary? I would like these to be a set of headcanons, please? Thank you and Happy Writing! P.S. You're writing is incredible!”

you and alfred got along well

“glad i’m not the only one doing the grunt work anymore” -alfred

“and i was under the impression you loved this job” -you, sarcastically

you could frequently be found switching between important sites that actually helped during missions and reddit

“alfred hang on i want your opinion on this: ‘am i the asshole for trying on my bosses suit? i (25m) work with some pretty famous people and my boss (45m) has a really cool suit. it’s a little stiff but i think i like it. anyways, there’s a matching hat (if you will) and it smells AWFUL, so i sprayed it with febreeze but it only made it worse—’” -you

“hang on. this cant be…” -alfred

“HOW DID YOU FIND MY REDDIT ACCOUNT?!” -barry, over comms

“your name is scarletspeedster, and we’ve been trying to wash that febreeze smell from the cowl for weeks.” -you

“my god, barry. next time, just use an old suit” -alfred

“really?!” -barry

“no” -you and alfred

you do a lot of gadget/weapon design with JL members

“it’s acceptable” -bruce

“wow, thanks” -you

“it’s…it’s good work. i mean it” -bruce

diana sits with you and tells you stories, sometimes theyre very informational

“so if you ever do end up fighting, you’re going to want to craft a very nice sword for yourself. i know you’re good at that, you’ll do just fine” -diana

barry nerds out with you sometimes

he gets real excited when he sees you designing stuff on the computer

and tries to be helpful

“wind resistance might be a problem with this design, you should go sleeker” -barry

“hey, barry? if you don’t let me do my job im gonna design a tool specifically to shut you up” -you

“harsh!” -barry

“sorry, maybe a little too far. but let me work” -you

arthur wanted cooler clothes

“can i get you some material from atlantis so you can make me a nicer suit?” -arthur

“only if you bring me extra so i can have fun with it” -you

“not a problem for the king, its a deal” -arthur

clark didn’t really need/want much

but he was a great help when testing new weapons and suits

“can you just…laser vision that target right ahead. new suit material” -you

“yeah, stand back” -clark

it held for a good 20 seconds

“better than i thought” -you

you were their eyes in the sky on missions

directions, lookout, enemies, obstacles, detours, you name it

and yeah, maybe victor could also do a great deal of this stuff, but you got to do it behind the scenes and you actually got paid pretty well for it

but occasionally you did ask him for tech support

“victor, the batcomputer froze” -you

“i know, i did that on purpose” -vic

“can you unfreeze it so i can see what’s going on?” -you

“what’s the password?” -vic

*sigh* “ilovevicstone123” -you

diana let you spar with her sometimes

which honestly scared you every time bc you know she could kill you if she wanted to (but you knew she would never)

(but she could)

you’d never be apart of the justice league, which was very okay with you because you loved being behind the scenes and not being shot at

and so long and you had tea with alfred while the rest of them were kicking ass, you’d manage

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

For the yandere! Justice League x assistant reader, how would they react if they had Deadpool as a friend? Like he randomly shows up. They would try to keep the reader as far away from him as possible, but it's Deadpool. Lol. How would Yandere Justice League feel if the reader liked Deadpool because he's funny and makes the reader laugh even if in a tense situation, randomly just talking about nonsense and/or making funny jabs at some of Justice League members? Not only that, but he would just annoy them for his and the reader's amusement. I can also imagine Wonder Woman or Superman trying to kill/critically injure him but finding out he has a super healing ability. LOL. I can imagine the scene where Deadpool punches Colossus, but his hand breaks, then he tries again while saying, "Cock shot!" but his other hand breaks. Instead, he does it to Superman and says, "Oh, your poor Lois Lane!" I feel like that would make the reader laugh out loud.

I finally saw the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, and I loved it! So now I want to see more content about Deadpool. I forget how funny he can be. I would like you to add a Deadpool & Wolverine, but I don't know if you have seen the movie yet. But I recommend you go and watch the movie.

A Day in Life: Best Friends Forever

Synopsis: A day in your life where a visit from your friend ends up in Deadpool losing his thumbs and re-attaching them back.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Gn!Assistant!Reader; Platonic!Deadpool

Tw: 18+; No spoilers from the movie; Some violence; Light gore descriptions (not really); Some sexual comments (it's Deadpool); English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 830

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I loved this request, saw the movie on like the same week it came out, sorry this took so long</3

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— So that's what happens when I’m not around, huh?! — Hal Jordan snarked, faking amusement by the sight in front of him, but being very much not amused.

How? Was the question going through everyone's minds, as they watched their dear assistant (Y/N), in the middle of Hall of Justice, chatting away with a very infamous criminal known all around the hero-villain underground, who every single soul despised, and yet, there you were, choking your laughter and in tears with Deadpool, acting as if you've been friends all your life.

Diana was the first one to approach, followed by the rest of the Justice League.

— (Y/N), is this man bothering you? — She squared up and stared directly on Deadpool’s blank white lenses. That grounded you and helped you come back from the stories your friend was telling you.

— B-Bothering me? — Your laughter slowly died down, and you wiped your tears. — No, we’re just talking. — You shrugged and sniffled, so happy that a genuine smiled was fixed on your face, hypnotizing all the heroes for a moment.

— Wonder Woman! — Deadpool gave little fangirl jumps. Diana swallowed a groan. — It’s amazing to see you again! I’m even wearing my fanciest anal plug and thinking about you, all in your honor. — Diana couldn't control the disgusted and astounded expression on her face, while Wade saluted her. You bite your lips to not giggle.

— Don't be silly, Pool. Not everyone understands your humor. — You lightly slapped his shoulder and he sighed.

— I know! That's why I'm so introverted and depressed! — He shook his head. — That's why Disney sold me to DC, they couldn't handle my deep and complex character. Let's hope James Gunn knows what he's doing now. — Everyone, including you, furrowed their eyebrows, but no one decided to question what the hell he was talking about, since the mercenary was known for being insane. — And just after my third movie with Wolvie came out! Unbelievable. — He threw his hands in the air and shook his head while looking at an empty space as if there was someone there. He did that sometimes.

— You seem… Close. W-When did that happen, (N/N)? — Flash looked between you and Deadpool, biting his lower lip, slightly anxious. You blinked.

— Oh, well. Like, a few months ago? He sent his curriculum because he wanted to be part of the Justice League. There were no records of him in the system so I Interviewed him. Obviously he didn't pass, but we became good friends! — You shrugged with an easy smile.

— That's… Great, (N/N). — You narrowed your eyes on Hal Jordan.

— Hey… — Deadpool's mask gave the slightest hint that he was furrowing his eyebrows, and he pointed at Green Lantern. — (Y/N) told me about you. I don't like you. — He took his guns out of the holsters and pointed at the brunette. You gasped and stepped back, slightly regretting having told Wade about that. — STEP BACK WORST RYAN REYNOLDS SUPERHERO MOVIE OR I’M GONNA BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT IN 4K R-RATED! — Hal raised his arms. He was already on thin ice with you, and beating your bestie would probably be a bad idea to start over.

Batman grunted for someone to cover your eyes and threw two batarangs that disarmed Deadpool before he could react. Deadpool gasped and looked at the ground wide eyed. His thumbs had been chumped off in the ordeal (Batman was jealous and also knew he would just regenerate).

— WHAT? WHAT’S HAPPENING? — You blindly yelled, since Superman had zoomed to just behind you and was covering your eyes.

— HE CASTRATED ME! — Deadpool cried, reaching back for his swords, but since he didn't have thumbs anymore, he couldn't even hold them, making him just cry more from frustration. — THE DADDY ISSUES JUST GET WORSE! AND JUST BECAUSE I WAS READY TO BE ADOPTED BY YOU! — Batman furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of him having more than just one kid.

— Guys, we should all just calm down. — Flash tried to play the pacifist, standing in the middle of the chaos with his hands up, but Wade’s cries were covering his voice.

— WHAT'S HAPPENING? — You tried to tug Superman’s hands off, but he didn't let up, and started trying to sooth you.

Deadpool got to his knees and pathetically tried to push one of his thumbs into place, trying to accelerate his healing process, and after 30 seconds of chaos, he perked up when the thumb got attached again. He did the same to the other one.

— The sight is gross, (Y/N). You do not want to see it… — Wonder Woman mumbled, eyes fixed on the scene, feeling a mix of grossed out and impressed.

— Gross? This is natural. Like the birth of a little naked newborn baby. You wanna know what's real gross? My roommate Blind Al’s stink! She might as well be dead at this point… Uh, oh… — Wade slowly got up. — (Y/N)... Call me an Uber. I need to check on someone.

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I really loved your scenario of The Justice League AND The Ill reader,Lmao, poor reader they only need a rest.

Anyway, ever since I read the first part I was thinking about the kids, you know, the League Sidekicks, obviously The Reader knows them, due to work (I can really imagine Batman introducing His kids to the Reader to force a bond , And obviously The rest of The League does the same) So I had the headcanon that the reader really likes the children, they talk to them after missions, sometimes they buy them some gifts for their birthdays, they listen to them when they complain about their father figures (Therapist Reader), etc. But at the same time I can imagine The Reader being totally uncomfortable with his parents, so I can't help but think of a scenario in which The Reader is talking to the League kids in a good mood, but the League members walk in. to the room (They obviously saw the Happy Reader, so they want to gain some advantage) And The Reader just turns off, goes into business mode and is curt as always with the league, and when he finishes talking to the league, he goes back to talking to the children and their mood is happy again. Man I would love to see the league's reaction to the obvious reader favoritism

PD:I really love your work, you are amazing

Pd2:If The kids are yandere, ITS UP to you

A Week in Life: Take Your Kid to Work Day

Synopsis: A week in your life where you get a lot of new little friends, even if you know something’s sketchy about it.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Yanderes! Robin (Dick), Superboy (Konner), Miss Martian, Kid Flash (Wally) and Aqualad (Kaldur'ahm)

Tw: A single implication about Hal’s past dub/non con incidente (blink and you miss it); Implied emotional manipulation, I guess? Justice League using kids as a manipulation tactic; A little angst, I think we all hate how Superman treated Conner, so I added that, so technically not a healthy relationship between them here, could be interpreted as Superman manipulating him or Superboy trying too hard to make his bio-dad like him; The kid’s ages are definitely not accurate canon wise, but what is canon anyway? I mixed their personalities and origins from Young Justice (along with their age gap) and for Superboy it was mainly the animated movie Reign of the Supermen; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 3,3k

Requested? More than once.

Extra notes: Dick is 10, Kaldur'ahm, Conner, Megan and Wally are 13. I wish I knew more about the Wonder Girls to write about one of them, I felt bad for not adding them, but I would’ve felt worse writing for a character I have no idea how to write.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

Monday…

You’ve heard the rumors Gotham media was spreading for months now, you even asked Batman if you should prepare the marketing team in case of an emergency, he denied everything.

So why was it that now you were staring at a 10 year old dressed as a traffic light?

— Miss/Mister/Mx (Y/N)... I’m hungry… — Worst of all? The kid was cute.

You smile in a friendly manner.

— Okay, okay. Just give me a second, buddy, I need to talk to your… Dad…?! — You just now realized you didn't know their actual relationship. Batman only told you his name was Robin, that he was his partner, and that he was in the watchtower to observe. You didn't know superheroes accepted 10 year old interns, but whatever. The kid just stared blankly at you, not giving an actual answer to if you got your assumption right.

— Can I go with you? — Robin fiddled with his fingers. So cute. You nodded with a small smile. The kid jumped off his too big chair and ran towards you, surprising you by taking your hand. He had small hands. So cute.

You walked slowly, to accommodate to his height, in the direction of the door to the briefing room, where Batman was talking to John Stewart. This other Green Lantern was a breath of fresh air. The other one (the one who shouldn't be named) was away, working on another district of the universe since that whole… Less-than-consensual situation. You were happy and surprised when the League didn't just brush it off, and even compensated you for it, alongside making him go away. He either agreed to that, or caused the 3rd World War against the Justice League. It was a temporary predicament, but happier nonetheless, since John wasn't obsessed with you, unlike the rest of them, and easy to work with.

You cleared your throat so they would turn to you.

— Does Robin have any restrictions? He said he's hungry so I'm gonna take him to the kitchen. — You said politely. Batman shook his head.

— Just don't give him sugar. He needs to sleep before patrol tonight. — You raised your eyebrows in surprise and nodded your head. Batman looked at the boy. — Behave, chum. — You blinked, Robin nodded solemnly.

As you walked in the direction of the kitchen, the kid showed to be very happy and talkative. You were surprised, considering who his dad was, but it warmed your heart. At least it seemed he wasn't mistreated.

At some point, he let your hand go and started cartwheeling and doing acrobatics all the way there to show off his abilities to you. You gasped and clapped, praising his talent along with other workers from the crew who were passing the hall. You were slightly worried that he would fall and get hurt, but the kid was really confident in what he was doing (but they always are, until they fall).

When you got there, you were impressed that he wasn't even the slightest out of breath.

— Do you have games on your phone? — He asked, sitting down on a table while you rummaged the fridge for some sandwiches or any healthy snack, since you didn't know how his home diet was, but guessing by his build, which was a lot more athletic than kids his age are, he was probably pretty healthy. Son of the Bat.

— Hmm, I have Dress to Impress, Pou and Candy Crush.

— What is Pou? — Your heart panged and you sighed, feeling old.

— When were you born? 2010? — You walked towards him and settled a plate with a sandwich in front of him, before pouring a cup of juice.

— 2014. — Your mouth dropped, speechless. — Wait, so not even Stardew Valley? — You cleared your throat and shook your head, sitting beside him, while he started eating.

— Wait, can I even let you play? Does Batman let you have screen time? — He nodded.

— I have a phone. I just couldn't bring it with me today… He said he would show me around the tower, but he got busy with work… — He deflated a little at the end of the sentence, your heart broke. — Anyway… He told me I could distract myself. I just need your permission. — You bite your lip.

— Okay. How about we go to the recreational room and you can play some videogames while I work from the computer. — Robin nodded eagerly.

— Damn, you can't even play with me? Working sucks. That must be why adults are so boring. — You took a napkin and cleaned some food from his cheek.

— It's not that bad… You can do whatever you want. — He perked up.

— I guess so… — He looked you up and down. You prepared yourself for one of those moments where kids are so blunt that they don't know they could offend someone. — But you're not boring, (Y/N), you're cool. Must be why daddy likes you so much. And he doesn't like no one.

Tuesday…

Wow, what a weird coincidence. Just yesterday Batman brought his kid, and now Martian Manhunter brought his niece.

Miss Martian looked older than Robin, but again, she was a martian, her appearance was shifted to whatever she wanted to look like. All you knew was that she was young and new on Earth.

Right now, she looked very human. She had freckles and auburn hair. The only thing that made her stand out was the green of her skin.

When she presented herself to you, you got startled by her voice in your head, but you and Martian Manhunter softly explained to her that on Earth people didn't communicate through their minds, and it was kinda like an invasion of privacy. Kinda funny hearing him say that, but whatever.

Like Batman the day prior, Martian trusted the girl in your hands. So many coincidences, right?!

— So, honey, how old are you?

— Oh, on my home planet I should be about 39. But converting to Earth years, I’m 13. — She said with a shy but friendly smile, you smiled back.

— You’re pretty young then. How are you settling on Earth? Planning to go to school maybe? — She nodded.

— I just started the school year… I wasn't too sure about that, but my uncle said it would be good to learn human behaviors. — You nodded.

— American school is nice, I recommend you should take part in clubs. And don't feel pressured to make a billion friends. It's better to have one good friend, instead of 10 people you know but can't rely on. — She nodded, biting her lip.

— I already know some of the other sidekicks, I just don't have any civilian friends… I was thinking about joining the cheerleading team. — You gasped, excited.

— Oh, that's really good! I always wanted to join, but was never the sporty type. You’re sweet, I think that already gives you some points. — Her green cheeks got darker.

— You think so?! — Her voice got louder with excitement.

— Of course! Now let me give you some tips about the jocks, honey…

Wednesday…

Today, Flash brought Kid Flash. You haven't met him until now. The sequence of days the older heroes brought in their sidekicks was starting to look weird… But not that weird. Batman said he would give Robin a tour but became unavailable. Manhunter wanted Miss Martian to meet civilian people and have a good role model — you don't know why he decided that that role model should be you, but it made sense, so… —. Flash Said they would spend the day using the lab to experiment some more on Kid Flash’s still recently acquired powers. So. Coincidences, right?

The boy was 13 too, he had messy red hair and green eyes. Flash didn't specify their relationship, but their personalities definitely matched a little. Both a little hyperiperactive and smiley. Although that could be more of a speedster thing, especially the first part.

Like promised, they spent half that day on the lab, occasionally calling you for snack breaks. However, at some point, Flash gave an excuse and left you with the kid.

Huh.

— Sooo, what do you do around here? — Kid Flash asked, spinning around in a chair he found somewhere and rolled to the middle of your office in the blink of an eye. You half-smiled. It was nice not being crowded by those weirdos and being around fresh and youthful people, but it was starting to feel weird.

— I plan schedule appointments, organize team meetings, prepare agendas and itineraries, book meals and travel arrangements, handle record keeping and documentation, and make sure a project stays on budget. — The ginger blinked and stopped spinning.

— Uhh, you went to college for that? — You blinked.

— I did, why? — He chuckled slightly.

— Nothing, it's cool, sounds boring, though. — You nodded.

— What do you want to work with? — He looked to the side, thoughtful for a moment.

— I think I want to be a scientist.

— Oh really?

— Yeah, I like physics, mechanics and a little bit of chemistry. — You smirked.

— Chemistry? Sounds boring. — Kidflash froze for a second, wide-eyed, then relaxed and started laughing loudly. His chuckling prompted you to chuckle alongside him.

He used his feet to push the chair around your table and stopped at your side.

— Hey, can I see how much people get paid here? If I'm gonna be a member of the League one day, might as well optimize time and just work here. — You slapped his hands away when he reached for your computer, he pouted.

— Wouldn't that make it difficult to keep your secret identity hidden?! — Kid Flash stretched his arm, then draped it across your shoulders, you lifted an eyebrow.

— Babe. I'm a superhero. I could change clothes really fast right now and you wouldn't even notice. — You scoffed and lightly pushed him and his chair away.

— A phone booth would be more appropriate for that.

— What's a phone booth?

Thursday…

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

— So… Are you hungry? Wanna play videogames? — You grimaced slightly. He looked at you again, a little hesitant.

— Uh… I think so? — He blinked. — You guys have videogames here?! — He exclaimed, surprised. You chuckled.

— Oh yeah, for such a serious and stern guy, Batman really invested in the work environment. — You chuckled together, walking towards the recreational area.

You were curious about the earlier weird vibe, but didn't want to prod.

At first, you just let the boy play by himself, just sitting beside him and working while talking, that was until he paused the game between missions and stretched, then looked at you.

— Are you guys involved? — You looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

— You guys…? — He pursed his lips.

— You and Superman. — You grimaced slightly.

— Oh no, he's my boss, and not my type at all. — He nodded, looking pensive.

— He likes you. — You kept a blank expression, waiting for him to continue. — I like you too, so I can imagine why he likes you. — You stared at him, exasperated. He widened his eyes. — Not like that! — He raised his hands to deny. — It's just- I feel comfortable with you. I felt comfortable with some of his friends before, I didn't even know why, but I think it's because half of me is from him. Like I have some things from Lex since I was… Born… — He looked to the ground for a second, pouting lightly. — That's why Superman doesn't like me. — You widened your eyes.

— I'm sure he likes you! — Superboy looked at you like he didn't believe you.

— No, it's okay… He's polite, I guess. And took me in as his family, just not… As his son… More like a brother, or… A cousin… I mean, I can understand, I'm basically a hate baby, created by his biggest enemy to outdo and destroy him… — You shook your head.

You didn't know what to say, since you didn't know how their dynamic was like.

— H-He brought you here to spend time with you, didn't he? He just had an emergency to take care of… — He looked to the ground and then at you again. He didn't have the heart to tell you that's the first time they ever “hung out”, and that his genius brain clocked hours ago that Superman's plan was to create a connection between you both by orchestrating a connection with you and him. He also didn't want to bad mouth Clark. A part of him always would have hope that Superman would want to be closer to him one day.

Superboy looked at the clock and then at you.

— Don't you have a break? I can hear your stomach, I'm hungry too.

Friday…

This madness has to stop now.

— Nice to meet you, Aqualad. — You nodded at the boy with a small smile. You were a little mesmerized by his exotic appearance. He had brown skin, blonde hair in braids (where are his roots?) and blue eyes. His arms were also covered in tattoos that you knew had something to do with his abilities.

— I was showing him around the Watchtower, but now I have a meeting with Wonder Woman, why don't you two hang out for a while? — Aquaman, always the most obnoxious one. Their intentions were 100% clear now.

Aquaman didn't let you say anything else and left the room with said hero. You heard her murmur something about having to find her own apprentice to bring to the watchtower as soon as possible.

You looked at the boy, not knowing what to say.

— Have you ever been to Atlantis? — He surprised you by speaking first, his tone was gentle, if not a little monotonous, but he looked at you with interest.

— Uhhh, no? I’m not that good of a swimmer and I can't breathe underwater. — Aqualad smirked lightly.

— You wouldn't need to worry about breathing, there are multiple ways for humans to do that, from magic to technology. As for swimming… I'm sure we can find some sort of solution for that, also. And I doubt my king would be opposed to the idea of teaching you. — You nodded slowly. So much for subtly.

— … My vitamin D is low enough as it is, I’d rather stay on land, no offense. — The atlantean opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. — Aqualad! Do you like the food here? I've always been curious about your culture’s cuisine…

You kept talking for hours, eventually, Aqualad and you ended up in the training room, he offered to show you a little of his control over water bodies, and you, still a little fascinated over the convivence with superheroes, and this being the second time you met someone from Atlantis, accepted eagerly.

— This is just like H2O… — Kauldur’ahm blinked.

— It is water… — The boy confirmed, hesitantly. You laughed.

— No, no, not water. It's a TV show, it's about mermaids. I guess it isn't exactly accurate, but they can control water, just like you! — He nodded, slowly, contemplating. You looked at your watch, noticing your lunch time was due. You looked at him, shyly. — If you're up for it, we could watch it now… — That seemed to make him perk up a little and he nodded quickly.

— I would like to.

Monday…

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

There they were, in the meeting room, all seated around the big roundtable, almost double the number of people who usually sit there.

Now, the food order they made, made sense.

You pushed the food cart forward, one for Flash. You came back and pushed another one, this one for Kid Flash, you ruffled his hair. Then, you walked back and pushed the 3rd food cart around the table, delivering each meal for each hero.

— Steak for Green Lantern. One black coffee for Batman. One meat sandwich and chocolate milk for Robin. — You squeezed his cheek. He smiled brightly at you. — Toast for Martian Manhunter and a slice of strawberry cake for Missy Miss Martian. — As you put the plate in front of her, you whispered that you wanted to know how the cheerleading team was going. She nodded happily. — A burger with fries for Aquaman, a smoothie and salad for Aqualad. Oh, did you change your hair? I like it! — You smiled brightly at the boy and his cheeks burned, he nodded. — Ice cream for Wonder Woman. Another burger and fries for Superman and another for Superboy. I see you followed my advice, your style really matches with those piercings. Tell me how you did it later. — You laughed carelessly and went to the door. — Need me for something more? — Your bosses shook their heads, stunned. You left and closed the door.

— Can't believe you guys actually did it… — John shook his head, disappointed at his teammates.

— I knew it would work. — Batman said, sipping from his drink.

— That's why we stole your idea when we knew about it. — Aquaman chuckled.

— I really need to find a sidekick. — Diana huffed.

Batman turned to Robin.

— You did a good job, chum. — Dick chuckled.

— Yeah, I even asked for a sandwich without the crust. Now (Y/N) think I'm the cutest here. — He smirked smugly. Wally scoffed.

— Yeah, right. She totally doesn't think you're an annoying kid. — The duo stared at each other. — I, for example, made them laugh. — The redhead puffed his chest proudly.

— Are you sure it wasn’t a pity laugh?! — Superboy snorted at Robin’s retort.

— Although Robin might be physically more adorable, and Kid Flash, in his words, made them laugh. (Y/N) and I started a TV show together, my king. — Aquaman nodded at his apprentice’s words.

— You did a good job.

— But (Y/N) actually said they wanted to talk to me later! That usually oficializes human’s friendships! — Megan said, softly.

— They said the same to me, the other day. That I could talk to them whenever I wanted… — Superman looked at Superboy, surprised. He felt awkward praising him, so he just nodded his head and looked away. Superboy pouted slightly.

— Because you told them your sob story, now they think you're a loser. — Conner glared at Dick. — Their physical language showed that they loved me, B! I honestly deserve an Oscar after that performance! They're gonna be ours before you suckers know it!

As a screaming match raised inside the room, the adult heroes looked at each other, lost for words, not only had the kids gotten you roped a bazillion times faster then they could ever dream, but also you were so amazing that they were enamored with you too.

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DC taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant

If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?

That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭

Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!

Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.

A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness

Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,6k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.

Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.

Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.

— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.

— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.

— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.

Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.

— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.

Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.

— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.

— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.

— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..

— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.

Penny-One simply turns to you.

— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.

You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).

Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?

At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.

Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.

Did you fall asleep?

That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.

You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.

— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.

Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.

— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.

— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.

— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…

— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.

— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.

— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.

The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.

— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.

Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.

It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.

— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.

— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.

— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.

— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.

— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?

— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…

— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.

— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.

— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.

— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.

— Then why aren't you there?

Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.

— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.

— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).

You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.

They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.

You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.

Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.

Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.

You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.

And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.

This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.

It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.

You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.

You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.

— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.

— You’re late. — Batman states.

— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.

Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.

— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.

— GET. OUT!

— But-

— OUT!

— But, (Y/N)-

— NOW! GET OUT NOW!

They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.

— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.

— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.

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Taglist:

@wandalfnation

Do you think Bruce would introduce y/n to the justice league? I could totally see her simping over the flash (Or conner Kent 👀).

The first time you meet Conner, you’re immediately smitten. He’s tall, gorgeous, and has that perfect blend of confidence and awkward boy-next-door energy that you thrive on.

You don’t even bother introducing yourself properly. After the initial “Hey, pretty boy, wanna fuck?” incident, you lean into your new role as his unsolicited sugar mama.

Conner, tries to respond, but you’re already calculating how much of Bruce’s money you’ll need to spoil him.

During one mission, you dramatically announce, “Conner deserves everything! Clothes, gadgets, vacations—all on Daddy Bruce’s tab!”

Once, you bought him an entire motorcycle. When Bruce found out, he dragged you into the Batcave, his voice dangerously calm.

“Explain why my credit card statement says you purchased a $50,000 bike.”

“It’s for Conner. He deserves nice things.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Conner can fly. He doesn’t need a bike.”

You shrug. “But he looks so good on it, Bruce. Don’t be stingy.”

You’re constantly “borrowing” Bruce’s money for ridiculous things.

“Bruce, I need a million dollars.”

“For what?” he asks, already exhausted.

“To buy Conner a pony. He’s always wanted one.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you a million dollars.”

“Fine,” you huff. “But don’t come crying to me when Conner’s sad and pony-less.”

You have a love-hate relationship with Diana. You’re in awe of her beauty, strength, and grace, but you’re also deeply insecure.

During one mission, you stop mid-battle to dramatically compare your boobs to hers, much to everyone’s horror.

“Diana,” you sniff, clutching your chest, “I’ll never be able to compete with perfection like yours. It’s not fair!”

Diana, ever graceful, reassures you, “You’re beautiful in your own right.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re perfect,” you reply, before glaring at Bruce. “He never says anything nice to me.”

Bruce, utterly done: “Because you don’t deserve it.”

During a training session, you randomly grab Diana’s hand and place it on your boobs.

“Feel that, Diana. Am I Amazon material yet?”

She humors you, nodding seriously. “You’re getting there.”

You: “If I bulk up, can I join Themyscira?”

Barry finds you hilarious. He loves how unfiltered you are, even when it gets way too inappropriate.

Once, during a mission, you casually said, “Barry, do you think you could vibrate fast enough to—”

Barry, cutting you off, flailing: “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

You just smirk. “I’m just saying. There’s potential.”

He starts speed-dodging your flirting, but you’re persistent. “One day, Speedy, you’ll come around.”

You have exactly one question for Hal when you meet him:

“So, hypothetically, could you make a functional dild—”

Hal, already holding up a hand: “Nope. Don’t even finish that thought.”

You pout. “Why do you even have the ring if you’re not going to use it creatively?”

Clark tries his best to remain polite and patient, but you test his limits.

“You must’ve been sculpted by the gods,” you tell him once, blatantly checking him out. “What’s it like being perfect, superdaddy?”

“I… um… thank you?” Clark stammers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Bruce glares daggers at you.

You immediately give Arthur the nickname “Aquadaddy” and refuse to call him anything else.

“Look at those arms, Aquadaddy. What’s your bench press, a blue whale?”

Arthur smirks, clearly amused. “Something like that.”

You: “Bet you could throw me across the room.”

Arthur: “Why would I do that?”

You: “For fun. And because I’d enjoy it.”

You’re also obsessed with his tattoos.

“Did it hurt? Can I touch them? Are you planning on getting more? What if we got matching ones?!”

He indulges you for about five seconds before realizing you’re just trying to find an excuse to grope his arm.

“You’re worse than Barry,” he mutters.

During an underwater mission, you accidentally blurted out, “Do mermaids exist? Be honest.”

Arthur: “They’re… complicated.”

You: “Complicated? Are they, like, your exes?”

Arthur groans, swimming away while you cackle.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to torment Bruce.

When the League gathers for a meeting, you always find a way to embarrass him. One time, you slid into the room dramatically, pointed at him, and declared, “That man is the reason I’m not married yet!”

Bruce: “How is this my fault?”

You grin. “Because I’ll never find another man who looks as good in a suit. You’ve ruined my standards.”

You are Bruce’s biggest headache. Every time he turns around, you’re doing something wildly inappropriate.

During a League movie night, you plop yourself on the floor between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.

“Your thighs are so firm, Bruce. You ever think about becoming a leg model?”

Bruce just stares down at you, utterly done. “Go sit somewhere else.”

You grin up at him. “Nope. This is my spot now.”

As unhinged as you are, everyone in the League has a soft spot for you. You make them laugh, even if it’s at Bruce’s expense.

And while your antics are embarrassing for Bruce, they all know you’re a fierce fighter and incredibly loyal. When it matters, you’ve got their backs—and they wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Except Bruce. Bruce would absolutely trade you for five minutes of peace.

Drop In

Summary: Gotham’s Dark Knight interrupts your night.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, injury. Minors DNI.

Bat Divider

You just wanted to get home. It was late, your feet ached, and all you could think of was peeling off your scrubs and stepping into a steaming shower before sliding into bed. But before you'd rounded the corner to your street the overly loud, obnoxious laughter of men slowed your steps. Peeking around, at least five sat on the steps outside of an apartment building beside your's. Fantastic.

With a muttered curse, you turned back down the street to the alley that ran between your building and some old rundown warehouse. The rusted fire escape groaned as you pulled down the ladder and began to climb. God, you missed having an elevator. One. Two. Three. Five. Six, past your bedroom window that you always kept locked tight. Seven staircases until you reached the roof. The only real benefit to living on the top floor of a building this old and in this part of the city was its dirt cheap rent.

You trudged across the roof, pulling the keys from your bag and still fantasizing of a warm shower, when a large black blob came crashing from the sky.

Batman.

At least you hoped it was. Some other costumed maniac flying across Gotham's skyline was not one you wanted to face. Especially considering Gotham’s latest headlines. Your suspicions were confirmed as he attempted to stand, failing part way and falling back to his knees. His breathing was heavy and strained, hand going to his abdomen with a pained grunt.

“Are you alright?”

His head snapped up in surprise. There was no answer for several long seconds as he seemingly appraised whether or not you were a threat. “Yes.”

That was a lie. From the grimace as he breathed, something was wrong. A cracked rib maybe? You pulled the strap of your bag further up your shoulder. It could be broken, at risk of stabbing an organ if he moved the wrong way. “I’ve got a decent first aid kit. Compression bandages, ice packs and all that.”

He remained silent, watching.

“My apartment’s on the top floor. Bedroom window’s the first one down the fire escape.”

Still nothing.

The keys jingled as your thumb jabbed over your shoulder. “I’ll leave it on the bed if you change your mind.” You said nothing more, pushing your key into the rooftop door and slipping inside. Under the blistering stream you found yourself questioning if inviting a masked stranger into your apartment was such a great idea. You'd just gone up the fire escape to avoid the possibility of some man following you home, yet you’d invited some six-foot vigilante who took a bomb to the face and lived?

Hammering in the pipes echoed through the wall as the water shut off. Someone who’d spent four years fighting criminals had to have experienced some extreme injuries. It seemed impossible he didn’t have his own doctor to visit, someone he could trust. Or perhaps he had his own medical expertise? Because if anyone were secretly sewing up the Batman, they were doing a damn good job at keeping their mouth shut.

The blurred reflection in the fogged mirror moved with you, a discarded shower cap disappearing beneath the dampened towel as it too was cast aside. A soft blue glow took over the former darkness of the gap between the floor and the door and a familiar voice began to filter through as you pulled the pajama shorts up your leg. Some youtuber chatting about something you’d gone down a rabbit hole on a few days before. He'd decided to take up your offer.

Turning the tarnished brass knob, you pushed the door open a fraction and rapped your knuckles against it. “Would you like any assistance?”

A gruff singular, “Yes,” came over the noise.

The door scraped along a well tread path in the parquet flooring of your bedroom as it swung open. Batman’s dark frame was bathed in the blue glow, a sharp contrast to the aged white of your walls. His cape and utility belt had been cast to the floor near the now closed window, his chest plate partially unclipped on his right side.

“Can you give me the basics of what happened?” you asked, already moving towards the bed.

“I was kicked.”

Stopping a few inches in front of him, your hands reached out tentatively to hover over the remaining clips of his chest plate and you glanced into the smokey gray eyes. His head tilted ever so slightly down to give you permission to continue. The two remaining clips came undone with pops and you helped pull it over his head, noting he barely moved his right arm. Beneath it was a black shirt tucked into his pants.

“I’m gonna lift up your shirt okay?” Another slight nod. The material was odd. It was heavier than expected and it didn’t feel entirely like cloth. Not the priority. A large red welt had formed over the right side of his ribs. “Did you hear any cracking?”

“No.”

You nodded, analyzing the area. Nothing was sticking out and there were no places that were depressed where it shouldn’t. An x-ray would be the only way to definitively say if anything was broken, but you doubted he’d happily skip down to Gotham General to get one. “This is going to hurt, but I need to feel if there’s any big breaks.” His skin was warm, slightly damp. Your fingers pressed against the area eliciting a muffled grunt from him. Nothing moved, thankfully. It didn’t mean nothing was fractured, but at least nothing had broken off. “You have some bruised ribs, maybe some minor fractures.”

“You’re a doctor.” It wasn’t a question.

“Nurse Practitioner,” you corrected, turning from him to open the first aid kit you’d set out before the shower. With a squeeze, you activated two of the instant cool packs. “Can you sit?”

His eyes wandered over the bed and the white spread. “I’ll stain it.”

You shrugged. “I’ve got bleach.”

You could hear his grunt as he sat, your back turned as you riffled through a drawer of shirts until you found an old one. Wrapping it around the ice packs, you helped him lift his shirt again to place it against the area. “There’s not much you can do besides icing it and rest. You’ll need to ice it off and on for the next two days. Ten or twenty minute increments are best.”

He said nothing, just watched.

“We're not really supposed to wrap anymore, but if any of the ribs are fractured it might help keep it in place until you can get home–or wherever it is you go when the sun comes up."

His lips twitched. "That would be helpful."

"Ice it for a few more minutes and then I'll wrap it then."

The silence settled naturally in the space as you returned to the bathroom to finish your nightly ritual. When you walked back into the room a few minutes later with a roll of wrap, you were unsurprised to see him off the bed. There were dozens of stories of his ability to quickly and quietly sneak away. But he was still in the room holding the cold packs against his ribs and standing at your desk looking over the dozen awards, plaques, and certificates that were scattered across it.

"You're good at your job." Another statement.

You shrugged again. "So are you."

He pulled the cold packs away, setting them on the desk. "I have to go." Despite wanting to tell him to stay and rest more, you'd met too many patients like him to think it would change his mind. He flinched as you wrapped him and tucked his shirt back in. You helped put his chest piece back on, trying to be as gentle as possible when clipping it back into place, and then his belt and cape.

"Thank you," he said as you stepped back from him. Crossing to the window, he pushed it open.

He was already halfway out when he looked back at you as you said, "Try not to get kicked again for a few days."

A soft chuckle curved his lips, the sound reaching your ears with a gust of wind. “I’ll try.” And then he was gone.

It was an unspoken fact that you were the only one to get Bruce Wayne. The man was a mystery, a trauma-wrapped mystery that nobody could read. Yet, you could take one good look at him and immediately know what he was thinking about. You, the only person who could make the Batman tremble in fear because he hadn't eaten in a day and was acting too broody and it was 'ruining' your mood. 'Three years of being a masked vigilante, and yet he still can't take care of himself—scary my ass' you'd tell Alfred, to which he instantly agreed.

Bruce Wayne did not enjoy touch; he didn't mind when it came to Alfred, but besides that, his body was off-limits to everyone—not you though. He'd gladly come back to the tower after a long night, get his suit off, and immediately collapse into you even though he's sweaty and disgusting.

He had once been forced by you and Alfred to appear at a charity fundraiser, and when a man came up to flirt with you, Bruce had shot him down, telling him you were taken. You could've sworn he spent the rest of the night glaring at the man. A week later you're watching the news only to see the same man had been exposed for having relations with a trafficking ring.

The Batman didn't kill, but when you had gotten robbed one night, all hell had broken loose. The man that had robbed you barely made it out alive, and you had been put on a strict lockdown in the tower for a week. From then on, whenever you go out during the night, you can always look up and see the faintest outline of someone on top the rooftops.

You're the only one that can touch the suit—even Alfred isn't allowed. Yet, you can be found sewing it up every few weeks and adding things to help with his nightly escapades. You had even put the mask on one night, and it's one of the only times Alfred had seen Bruce laugh so much since his parents had died.

You are the only one that gets to see the man behind everything, not Bruce Wayne the billionaire or the Batman, just him, Bruce.

The funniest part of it all is that you two aren't even dating.

No, apparently it was strictly a 'platonic' relationship.

It's bullshit, you two are both in love but are in hardcore denial about it because you both have problems

Can you do a summer evening at Wayne manor fluff with Bruce ,where the reader and him are married

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Hot summer nights*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Warnings: none, tooth rotting fluff.

a/n: this is my attempt at writing more "silly" fluff...I don't know if I succeeded. English is not my first language so there may be typos, soz!!

The A/C had broken on the first of July, and Bruce had sworn he'd call somebody to fix it but here you were, almost an entire month later, sweating on your bed.

You'd pulled the covers off and discarded most clothing except for panties and a tank top. The heat made it hard to do anything, really, so you laid in your bed and hoped for it to get colder by nightfall.

You heard the door of your bedroom open, Bruce sauntered in and threw himself on the bed, groaning.

You looked down at him and brushed your hand through his sweat damp hair.

"What's wrong?" You asked.

"I can't deal with this heat down at the cave, it's too humid." His voice was muffled by the rumpled bed covers.

Your fingers tugged at his hair and guided his head back slightly until he met your gaze. His eyes, usually so cold and distand glowed with a special warmth when he looked at you; it made your heart race.

"Then stay here," You mumbled, "but it's not any better."

"Less humid, plus I've got company." His lips twitched upwards in an almost smile.

You'd grown to understand that was like a beaming smile in Bruce's mind, so you shot him back one of your own.

When you smiled at him he felt like the sun was beaming down on him, like every worry, every complaint he had was reduced to nothing. You were too good for him, he thought, you put up with endless nights and days away, weeks on end where you'd not know where he was or if he'd come back— you shouldn't have to.

You could see the worry etched on his face at that and you brought a hand up to his face.

"Don't second guess yourself." You scolded him as you smoothed the creases in between his eyebrows with your finger.

"I wasn't—" He started.

"I know you, I married you."

It was true, you knew him. Every little thing about him, every one of his thoughts, you could read his mind.

He crawled on the bed, closer to you, and laid his head on your stomach. His face was hot, his hair damp with sweat.

"Ew! Bruce, get off—" You tried to push him off between giggles but he only shifted closer to you whenever you squirmed, so you relented, throwing your head back on the pillows with a soft thud.

From your place on the bed you could see the Gotham city skyline glowing in the distance, the sky was orange and purple as nighttime approached. You knew once it was dark again he'd be getting up and leaving, but for now he was burrowing closer to you, skin sticking against skin, damp and salty when you kissed it.

"Sweetheart? Wake me up when it's dark out." He breathed out.

"You should've fixed the air con if you were gonna fall asleep on me, B." You whined.

He was no longer listening, already drifting off to sleep in your arms, with your fingers sliding through his dark strands.

────୨ৎ────

Alfred is preparing the breakfast when he hears the kitchen door click open. A glimmer of morning sunlight ripples in from the hall and lavishes the wall of gleaming pots and pans in soft golden tones. A small creak squeaks within the old wooden doorframe, holding the broad form of Bruce Wayne. The tray Alfred had been preparing to be sent to the Regency room, along with his regards to the young family, is now long forgotten.

A bundle, no larger than Bruce’s meaty forearm and swaddled in taupe muslin blankets, stirs gently as their father rearranges them in the crook of his arm. Bruce wears a tired smile, joy lining the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes as he paces over slowly, steadily, with far too much care from a man of his stature, his power - his past.

“Alfred, there’s someone I’d like you to meet”

Why now

Bruce Wayne x reader , Harvey Dent x reader

Tags: angst,implied relationships, yearning

You’ve known Bruce and Harvey since Kindergarten you three were best friends, till zu weren’t anymore.

You didn’t know what and how it happened but Bruce went away and suddenly it was only you and Harvey. Bruce just disappeared from earth, that’s how it felt. You and Bruce had something special, you loved him with all your heart and you knew he did love you back, but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore cause he was gone. Just gone.

But at least you had Harvey, he wasn’t Bruce, and Harvey knew he couldn’t replace him. But he didn’t need to replace him, Harvey weaved his way through your heart, and after a while Bruce was forgotten. Not completely, but what you now have with Harvey is something special, something you’ve never experienced with Bruce. Even tho you knew Bruce loved you, you two were never together he never let you fully in, and maybe it is for the best cause now you have Harvey. Harvey the good looking Law student, who is kind and compassionate, who is always pushing you to do your best, who motivates you, who is there for you.

But why, if Harvey is so good to you, doesn’t skip your heart the way it did for Bruce. Why does you heart now stutter, after five years of not hearing anything from Bruce, when he suddenly stands before you and Harvey, at you charity gala for disadvantaged children.

Bruce “actually I was born in the Regency room” Wayne having a full circle moment watching as you are prepped in the very same room amongst plush sheets, lit by the warm, dim glow of the twilight sun, seeing you smiling between the pained grimaces that came with each contraction, at the thought of another new life being brought to the manor, the first since their father.

The curtains remain open and sway gently in the cool breeze, and there is a sense of peace and calm despite the ongoing pressure stirring within you. In a few short hours, he will hold your hand, kiss you quietly as if to offer you his own strength, and you will give him a child, a love on the outside of his chest he has never known, a love so sweet that he would fight tooth and nail for, to the bitter end.

In a few short hours, Alfred will hear the cry of a newborn, and reminisce - remembering the first time he heard such cries from that room, and beam with more than a glint in his eye, knowing that that small baby he loved the world over, was now a father himself.

Surely, You’d Burn the Same (Batman/Bruce Wayne x fem!reader)

PART TWO  PART THREE PART FOUR

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: smut, sexpollen (dubcon), explicit language, handjobs, oral (both male and female), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, mentions of violence, brief mention of an IV/needle, Bruce is touch starved lmfao (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

a/n: ok while consent is given on both parties, it’s has sex pollen-esque features so it is dubious consent!! just be aware of that! ANNYWAY PLEASE ENJOY (also thank u sm to the lovely @jango-fettish for helping me come up with this idea)

Fuck Lieutenant James Gordon.

Fuck him and his stupid penchant for glorifying vigilante justice. And fuck yourself for coming back here in this shithole of a city called Gotham. You’re a goddamn forensic analyst. You’re not supposed to be involving yourself with shit like this.

But alas, trouble always has a way of finding you.  

It nears six months into your job when you start to hear the rumors. Missing money from evidence, smudged fingerprints, evidence destroyed. Staff meetings about bribery, pay-offs to cover up the ferocious criminal underbelly of Gotham. The list goes on and on. Half the CSI staff eats out of the hand of some crime figurehead. The Penguin mostly—dude’s got a thumb in every pie scattered across the city. You don’t entirely blame them—the pay is shit and the job shittier. If you didn’t have the familial ties that you do, you’d be in the same bind as them. 

You keep your head down. You don’t want any part of it.

Keep reading

PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 1.6k synopsis: They’ve kept their relationship buried beneath professionalism and protocol, but when someone else starts to flirt with you, Batman’s jealousy slips through the cracks—and so does his control.

The Watchtower’s central command room hummed with quiet conversation, the low murmur of the Justice League echoing beneath flickering lights and the soft whir of the holo-display. The briefing was nearing its end, though you barely noticed. You were seated between Wonder Woman and Batman—though “seated” might’ve been too generous a word. Half-slouched in your chair, one boot propped on the edge of the table, fingers absently twirling a knife you’d snuck in just for the habit of it.

Batman was the one leading the meeting today.  The holo-display behind him rotated rapidly through surveillance footage, shifting maps, and streams of encrypted data—all of it moving too fast for the average eye to track. But you weren’t average.

And besides, none of it was news to you. You already knew the plan. You’d helped him write it, not that the rest of the team were aware of that little tidbit.

Which was why you didn’t feel the need to hang on every word as he droned through it again like a stiff-backed schoolteacher.

“Metahuman conflict in Markovia is escalating,” he said, voice low and smooth, as if carved from granite. “We’ll be dispatching teams in rotation.”

Your fingers stilled.

The knife paused mid-spin as he began to list the assigned units. You weren’t paying close attention—until he reached your name.

You blinked. Then slowly sat up, chin coming to rest on your palm as you leaned forward. Your gaze sharpened. You hadn’t been paired with him in the original draft. That… hadn’t been part of the plan.

But he didn’t so much as glance your way.

You leaned forward lazily, elbow propped on the table, chin in your hand. Your voice was a purr of silk and smoke.

“Aww, Batsy,” you drawled, letting the nickname curl like a tease on your tongue. “I knew you couldn’t get enough of me.”

Across the table, Flash blinked twice.

Diana’s brow rose, amused but unsurprised.

Superman coughed—though whether it was to cover a laugh or his disapproval, you couldn’t quite tell.

“You’re a strategic fit for the mission,” he said coolly as he moved to begin typing on the holopad. “Everyone else—meeting dismissed.”

You smirked knowingly.

“Mhm,” you murmured, stretching back in your chair as the rest of the League began to rise. “If that’s what you want to call it, sweetheart.”

You slinked in closer as the others filtered out—Flash already halfway through a joke to Diana, Superman nodding a polite goodbye. You waited for everyone to leave before you dragged a finger across the exposed skin of his jaw, just beneath the edge of the cowl.

“You know,” you said, your voice dropping into a velvet whisper, “if you miss my company that much… you could just ask for it. I’m very good at entertaining.”

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even turn to look at you.

But you saw it—the subtle tension that rolled across his shoulders, the slight grind of his jaw beneath your touch, the way his gloved hand flexed once before his knuckles cracked sharp in the hush between you.

“Dismissed, Y/N.”

That only made your smile stretch wider.

You straightened with a slow roll of your spine, gave him one last smirk, and turned to leave—your steps unhurried, hips swaying with unapologetic purpose. The door hissed open as you passed through it, but not before tossing a final glance over your shoulder.

Oh, you were going to get it later for that one.

You hadn’t made it twenty feet from the briefing room before a voice slid in beside you.

“Alright, I gotta ask—how the hell did you get away with that?”

You shrugged, your voice light. “He doesn’t scare me.”

Hal Jordan let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “No kidding. You’ve got more nerve than most of the League combined to talk to Spooky like that.”

You offered a slow, sideways smile. “You call him that to his face?”

He grimaced immediately. “God, no. I like having all my teeth where they are.”

A quiet snort escaped you. Hal’s grin widened, clearly encouraged.

“So…” he began, scratching the back of his neck like he was trying to seem more nonchalant than he was. “You, uh… got plans after this?”

Before you could answer, you caught the shift of movement at the edge of your vision. A shadow approaching.

“Lantern,” Batman’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold. “You’re needed in the lower hangar. Now.”

Hal blinked. “What—now? I haven’t even—”

The air turned colder. Something in Batman’s tone left no room for negotiation, and Hal, to his credit, picked up on it fast. He raised his hands in exaggerated surrender and took a few steps back, though not without flashing you a cheeky wink.

“Rain check, sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond, just offered a lazy shrug and watched him walk away.

The door hadn’t even hissed shut behind Hal before Batman was on you.

Two long strides and you were pinned—back against the cool metal wall of the command deck. One gloved hand braced near your head, the other found your waist—firm, grounding, possessive.

Your lips curled. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not—” he began, but the words barely made it past his lips before your fingers found the centre of his chest plate, tracing the outline of the bat symbol.

You tilted your head, brow arching. “Oh? So if you aren’t… maybe I’ll take him up on his offer for drinks.”

His grip on your waist tightened immediately, fingers flexing through the layers of tactical material like he was resisting the urge to give into his baser desires. Instead, he stepped in, close enough that there was no space left between you two. His voice dropped to a low, razor-edged growl.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

You arched up into him, your lips just shy of his, gaze dark with challenge. “Maybe I need a reminder.”

His mouth crushed to yours with no hesitation, no warning—just the surge of everything he kept buried under armour and silence. His gloved hand tangled in your hair, the other holding your hip in place like he could anchor you there forever. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. This was your Bruce—letting his iron clad control slip.

You kissed him back with equal force, your hands fisting in his suit, mouth parting for him without hesitation. His body pressed flush to yours, heat radiating through armour you both wore.

You could feel the tremble in his control—the rigid lines of muscle taut beneath his suit. He was a man who was always controlled. Always composed.

Except when it came to you.

A soft sound escaped you when his teeth grazed your lower lip—sharp and possessive, leaving behind a faint sting that only made your blood rush hotter.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged against your cheek.

“Is that enough of a reminder,” he growled, “of who you belong to?”

You smiled, slow and wicked, eyes still half-lidded, lips kiss-bitten and tingling. “If you admit you were being jealous,” you murmured. “You know I was just being polite.”

He leaned in again, lips brushing your ear. “You were teasing.”

A shiver danced down your spine at the sound of his voice—low, frayed, barely clinging to composure. You’d pushed him on purpose. And you were still pushing.

“You know if you keep kissing me like that again while we’re in public,” you whispered, “and we won’t be a secret much longer.”

His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you in until your bodies aligned perfectly—fitting together like puzzle pieces “Then stop giving me a reason.”

You tilted your chin, daring him. “Make me.”

His hand moved, slowly smoothing down the curve of your spine and then he was yanking you back to his lips.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you walked into the hangar bay—Batman as his usual cold and professional self. And you, the picture of casual ease, sauntering in like your normal self. Both of you acting as if nothing had happened.

Except it had.

Your lips were still a little too pink. Your hair, despite a quick fix in the mirror, had that artfully tousled edge no amount of finger-combing could completely smooth out. And the faint shadow beneath your jaw—a whisper of a bruise blooming—that told its own story.

You were halfway to the transport when Hal spotted you.

He was leaning against the side of a ship, mid-conversation with Green Arrow before he suddenly paused. His gaze found you first, sliding over your face with idle interest. But then it lingered and his eyes narrowed as he clocked the mark on your jaw.

Then the lips.

Then the hair.

Then—

His gaze shifted past you to where Batman emerged behind you, the cowl shadowing his expression but not hiding the ice behind his stare. 

They were locked on Hal giving him the infamous bat glare.

Hal stiffened. His attention bounced between the two of you. You gave him a faint, knowing smirk. The tilt of your head that all but dared him to say something.

And he gulped.

“…Right,” he muttered under his breath, already stepping back. “Yeah. No drinks. Got it.”

Batman didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

Hal was gone in two seconds, leaving nothing but the echo of retreating boots and a poorly veiled sense of self-preservation in his wake.

You didn’t look at Bruce—not until the ship’s ramp sealed behind you both with the soft hiss of pressurized air, sealing you both inside away from the outside world.

Then, at last, you turned and in amusement—you said, “I think he got the message.”

Batman didn’t respond but a faint smug smirk ghosted at his lips.

This one is easy because I’m a nice pal 😔...unlike "some people" 😶

Sugar Daddy! Bruce Wayne

Or CEO! Thor

Alrighty, maybe I... bent this one a bit?

Where the streets have no name

Summary: A certain vigilante becomes your personal protector.

Character: Bruce Wayne/Batman

Warnings: houselessness, self-hate, power imbalance.

Please, if you might, leave some feedback :) I truly appreciate it because I've not written Bruce outside my Regency AU.

The streets of Gotham are quiet but still awake. No sleep is found in the depths of the grim city, not for the sinister that languish there. Or you.

You lean into the side of the slimy metal, the rust catching on the stained blanket slung around your shoulders, a measly shield against the evening chill. Your breath fogs damply into the air as the stink of trash curdles your stomach. It's the best you'll do for the night and you're too tired to make it to the shelter.

It’s not the worst place you’ve slept. The alley is mostly forgotten if a little grimy. The stink of rot itself is enough to keep away most. You close your eyes and pull down your beanie, your finger catches in the hole around the rolled edge. You’re careful not to tear it further and cross your arms as you settle into the nook of the brick wall and dumpster.

You’re immune to the distant shatter of glass and the greedy squeaking of rats as they swarm into the dumpster. Cars honking against the intrusion of thieving hands and hollers of the unsober and unsavoury. 

Soles hammer on the pavement, close, and your ears prick up as they near the mouth of the alley. They’ll pass by.

They don’t.

You hold your breath as the heavy panting and coughs of the sprinter enter the narrow space, shoes crunching gravel and rubble. “Shit, shit, shit…” the man’s coarse whisper drifts towards you. You bend your legs tighter to keep hidden behind the dumpster. “Fucking–”

An odd flap comes from overhead and a sudden crashing impact that shifts the metal bin on its wheels. You swallow a gasp as another set of footsteps scratch on the pavement, the first man whimpering as the wind is knocked from him.

“Was it worth it?” A deep voice grinds in the second’s throat, “an old lady’s purse?”

“Get the fuck off me, you freak,” the other audibly struggles as his last word is crushed from his windpipe.

An unnatural clunk sounds followed by the weight of a body against the ground. The sound of bone on brick makes your stomach churn as you tuck your head down and curl your shoulders. Just go. Just go. I’m not here.

There is only the steady breath of the accoster from the other side of the dumpster. You don’t dare to look. Don’t move an inch. 

“Who’s here?” The rocky timbre slices the air.

You cover your head with your arms and huddle down. Please, please, please…

Footsteps scrape across the cracked pavement as you cower. The shadow darkens your existence as it crests the edge of the dumpster. You remain as you are, shaking beneath the man’s presence.

“Hm,” the syllable rolls in his throat.

“Please,” you croak and raise a palm, keeping your head down, “please, I’m just tryna sleep. Please–”

There’s a soft rustle and a click. A cold glove presses to the back of your hand and folds your hand over the cylindrical shape. You whimper and open your eyes, lifting your chin to look at the ominous silhouette shrouded in black. The dark peaks of his cowl draw your eyes. The Batman.

“Hold onto this,” he says, “keep yourself safe.”

You say nothing as he holds your hand around the object until you grip it yourself. He lets you go and stands, his cape sweeping air around his figure.

“Police will be here soon,” he snarls, “you should go.”

You just stare at him. He pauses and peers down at you past his shoulder as he faces the end of the alley.

“I can drop you at a shelter,” he offers and you turn your head side to side slowly.

You push your hand against the wall and stand stiffly. He watches you placidly and you lower the cylinder to your side. It’s light and smooth.

He says nothing as he looks up and lifts his arm. In an instant, he’s repelled upwards and a whir follows him into the sky as he lands on the fire escape with a quaking clatter.

You hear the sirens and peer down the alley. The other man, the criminal, is on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back as he lays unconscious. You cautiously walk down the pavement and peek both ways before emerging. The bridge isn’t too far.

As you walk down the street, passing beneath the cones of light cast from tall poles, you examine the unexpected gift. Your thumb hits a mechanism, barely noticeable to the naked eye and easily hidden in the night. 

The club expands and you stop as you hold it out. A night stick. That would definitely keep the goons off, hopefully scare them before you have to use it.

You look up as the moonlight shifts and you see the vigilante in his prowl, hopping across rooftops. A laugh traps in your throat; does he really think he can save Gotham handing out weapons?

🦇

You don’t notice it until days later. 

The shelter cot is hard beneath you as you hide the night stick under your pillow, rather your bag full of measly possessions. You’ve learned to sleep with it under your head, whether inside or out. You rub your sore neck as you lean forward, legs bent over the edge as you rest your elbows above your knees.

You groan, sore from days of sleeping in the street. The shelter had one spot left for the night, the rain driving in the itinerant. You unzip your jacket and tug at the sleeve, pausing at the shape hidden along the cuff. You glance around at the drugged out and dozing.

You tilt your chin down as you brush your thumb around the pin, shaped like a bat. You turn out the cuff and check the other side, trying to dislodge the flat circle. As you pick at it, it flashes red. What the fuck?

Why would he do that? What is it? You can’t just toss the jacket, it’s your only one and it's getting colder. Goddamn it, you need a smoke.

You get up and leave your scarf across your cot, hauling up your bag and hiding the club inside. It’s expendable enough to leave as a marker. If anyone even bothers to notice and keep off your bed. You sigh and fumble in the side pocket of your bag, a crumpled carton with one cigarette left.

You go through the rear door and stand under the eaves as they drip, just out of the pouring rain. You fish around and find your pack of matches. You drag one over the rough strip but it bends and snaps in your grasp. You try the next and it curls. They’re wet.

You toss the packet and snarl. God fucking dammit. You lost your lighter days ago.

“Smoking’s bad for you,” the voice startles you as the cigarette dangles from your lips. You take the smoke in your hand and press yourself to the wall as the tall figure emerges from the shadows, “so’s sleeping under the bridge.”

“You’re following me,” you croak out.

“Protecting you,” he asserts as he stands in the rain, the water slaking down his cape, “that’s what I do.”

“There’s hundreds like me,” you put the smoke back between your lips but pull it back out as you recall your lack of flame, “what about them?”

“I protect Gotham,” he insists.

“Mmm,” you hum, “you got a light?”

“Like I said, it’s bad for you.”

You stare at him and huff. You shove the stick back into the carton and bury it in your dingy knapsack.

“Take it off,” you say. He doesn’t react. You hold out your arm and show him the red flash in your sleeve, “please, this is my only coat, I need it.”

Silent, he makes no move, watching you. You don’t understand.

“I kept the cockroaches away last night,” he says, “they like to crawl under the bridge looking for mice like you.”

“What do you–”

“There was a man watching you–”

“Like you?”

“I threw him in the river.”

You’re frustrated by the odd dialogue, not quite sure how to respond, more confused as to why this batty avenger latched onto you. You cross your arms and shiver as the rain adds to the nip of the air.

“Do I say thank you?”

He doesn’t answer. Again. He steps towards you and you flinch, backing up into the wall. He takes your arm and pinches the pin on your cuff. It retracts and he catches it in his gauntlet. He tucks it away in one of the square pouches at his waist, looming over you as he makes no retreat.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he says as he snaps open another pocket, “get a new jacket.”

He holds out a bundle of bills, folded neatly into an elastic. You frown and shake your head.

“A hot meal,” he continues and hooks his fingers into the loose pocket of your coat, “a hotel room. Get washed up.”

“I can’t–”

“I hear Wayne Continental has soft blankets,” he pats your pocket and shifts back on his heel.

“I don’t want your pity–”

“No, but you have my interest,” he spins and faces the wet street. 

Once more, he disappears into the sky, his cape flapping up into the darkness as you stand dumbly against the wall. You can’t stay, not with that much money on you. And how can you resist the promise of a real bed?

🦇

The attendant leaves the tray on the table and you hand them a tip. It feels like wasted money but it’s not your own anyhow. He leaves and the door clicks loudly.

You hug yourself in the fluffy robe, the fresh scent of the hotel soap wafting from your skin. It’s been a while since you’ve been clean, or warm, or safe.

You lift the metal cover from the plate and the smell of the prime rib makes your mouth water. You collapse into your chair, forgetting all reticence as you grab the fork and knife, sliding the tray closer as your stomach whines loudly. You slice into the meat and greedily devour each bite, scooping up the seasoned potatoes just as ravenously.

When you finish, your insides ache from the richness, near bursting at the healthy portions. You cover the remnants with the metal lid and pour the crackling Coke into the tall glass. You gulp it down until it bubbles back up in hot belches.

You set the glass down as your body grows heavy from your sated appetite and you begin to tremble. You rest your elbows on the table and hold your head as you cry, bawling in disbelief.

One night. One night of warmth, of relief. You’ll take it. It’s worth more than any dollar.

Finally, you manage to suck back the onslaught and get up from the table. You shudder as you go to the window and look out over the city. The view is very different from there. It’s almost beautiful.

You press your forehead to the cool glass and sigh. You close your eyes. Just that moment of peace. You want to remember that.

A knock startles you away from the window and you recoil. You cross the room and peer through the peephole, wondering if they’ve realised you don’t belong. If your money is no good. You open the door to the same attendant as before.

“Miss,” he smiles as he stands behind his cart, “your dessert.”

“My– I didn’t order–”

“Mr. Wayne has sent it as a gratuity,” he declares.

“Mr. Wayne?” You swallow.

“He owns the hotel, miss.”

“I know,” you say thinly as you back up and let him enter.

You hover as he clears what’s left of your dinner and replaces it with another platter and a silver bucket of champagne on ice. You rub your cheek as you keep an arm across your chest protectively. You thank him as you follow him to the door. He refuses a second tip.

Alone, again, you’re reluctant to touch the treat. How long has it been since you had dessert? Sometimes the shelter had cookies but they always tasted like chalk. You pace around, looking at the bed longingly. You could just go to sleep but it would be wrong to waste the food.

Another rap on the door, this one softer. You run your sweaty hands down the front of the robe and once more cross to the door. This time, you don’t bother peeking through the hole.

A man awaits you on the other side, the glimmer of a smirk in the line of his lips, a sparkle in his dark eyes. He wears a dark suit that better fits the grandeur of the hotel. You recognise him from the faded prints of newspapers. Bruce Wayne.

“Uh hello,” you murmur blankly, “I think you have the wrong room.”

He says your name and you wince. You knew you should’ve given an alias. Was he hear to kick you out himself? To clear the street rat back to the sewer.

“Did dessert arrive?” He asks in your speechless lull.

“Dessert?” Your heart throbs.

He smooths his tie as he grins. You notice the split in his knuckles though he doesn’t show an ounce of pain. You smile, clueless.

“Um,” you’re entirely confused.

“Can I come in and explain?” He asks.

“It’s your hotel.”

“I suppose,” he shrugs, “but may I?”

You fold your arms over your middle again and back up, “okay, but if you want me to leave you can just ask–”

He chuckles as he steps inside, unhooking the single button on his jacket. “I would if I wanted that.”

He closes the door as he looks around, “we have an executive suite available, I’ll be sure to have them upgrade you in the morning.”

“I… I’m only here for the night,” you say.

“We’ll see, please, sit,” he goes to the table and places his hand on the back of the chair.

You go to him and lower yourself into the chair. You pick at the robe as he uncovers the tray, revealing two delectable slices of cheesecake coated with a berry coulis. Your hand brushes up to your chin and you tap your fingers on your lip.

He puts a plate in front of you and one before his own chair. He uncorks the wine and saves the bubbles with the first flute, filling both before he takes a seat. He drags the chair closer as he sits sideways.

“Please, eat,” he insists.

“I’m kind of… full,” you lift the fork anyway, twirling it nervously.

You look at his hand as it rests on the table top not far from your plate. He balls his fingers to a fist and grunts as he notices. You meet his eyes and he smiles.

“I’ve had worse,” he retracts his hand as he hooks his opposite elbow over the back of the chair. 

You cut into the cake with your fork to keep yourself calm. He watches you calmly and you can’t help a hum as you taste it. He nudges the wine closer as you swallow.

“I’m glad you made it, I know the shelter’s a bit far,” he says.

You choke and drop your fork. You touch your throat as you force down the last few crumbs in your mouth. He takes the glass of champagne and holds it out to you. You don’t know what else to do but accept and wash away the grittiness.

“How do you know?” You sputter through the lingering tanginess of wine.

He smirks and tilts his head. You bat your lashes and scoff. He cups his hand as if to say, guess. No, he’s not. He can’t be.

“Like I said,” he sits straight and reaches to the middle of his shirt, undoing a few buttons and pulling apart the fabric to show a black splotch on his stomach, “I’ve had worse. Comes with the territory.”

“You’re not– you can’t be–”

He pokes his tongue against his cheek as he buttons up his shirt, “now you know my secret, you won’t feel so… off balance.”

“Like anyone would believe me,” you shake your head, “you’re telling me because you know that.”

His mouth slants, “maybe, but not entirely.”

You sit back and run your thumbnail along the creases of your palm, “why am I here?”

“Do you not like it?” He wonders and you flick your eyes up derisively. He gives a guilty smile, “alright, I said I’d explain. We both have something to offer the other.”

You shrink back and fold your hands over your chest, “we do?”

“Yes,” he continues, “you don’t belong out there. I can keep you safe, comfortable,” he looks around at the room, “and you can keep me… happy.”

You glare past him at the wall as your eyes well in humiliation, “and you think that’s what I am, because I was on the street?”

“No, and it wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” he says softly, “you have every right to be offended, and it’s your choice. Maybe you only stay one night, sleep with a full belly and go back out there. Or you can say yes and go to bed every night, warm, wanted, with me.”

You clench your jaw and issue a shaky breath. You suck in your cheek and peek over at the window. You think of the stinking alleys, the whispered voices, the restless nights listening for the creep of some stranger.

Out there, it’s dark and dangerous, in here, it’s bright and hopeful. You’re worth nothing out there, but you could find value here. At least, a semblance of dignity.

“Can I think about it?” You ask as you look at him at last.

“We have all night and a whole bottle,” he shifts closer and reaches for your fork, “think about it.”

He cuts through the tender cake and scoops it onto the fork. He holds it before your mouth as he leans forward. You look down at the reddish coulis and your tongue tingles for a taste. You open your mouth and let him slip the fork through.

“If you do go back,” he says as his eyes cling to your lips, “I’ll still keep you safe.”

hi can you do a bruce wayne fic where readers back is pressed to his chest and he’s fucking her so hard and rough while also rubbing and occasionally slapping her clit and reader is just so far gone in pleasure? thank you so so much!! 💗💗

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

NSFW

I don't have a title for this, it's just... pure filth.

Basically just Bruce fucking out his frustration <3

Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 😚

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your brain was mush and all of your nerve endings were on fire as a breathtaking euphoria flooded your veins, fogging all your senses.

Bruce had been on edge lately, having to deal with not only the idiots at Wayne Enterprises but also Scarecrow running rampant in Gotham at the most inconvenient times, it seemed.

He had come home with a scowl on his face, stomping into the Manor and snatching you away from your cozy spot on the couch, dragging you to the bedroom.

The room was hot, filled with the smell of sex, and you could swear you could see the windows fogging up from the corner of your eye.

Bruce was underneath you, panting and sweating, one arm firmly pressed between your exposed tits right up against your sternum, with the hand wrapped around your throat while is cock was nestled deep inside of you, pouding you into tomorrow, it felt like.

Every thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, and his other hand between your thighs rubbing your puffy clit made you see stars.

You cried out for him, grasping onto whatever part you could reach to ground yourself. Bruce was fucking all of his frustration and tension into you, grunting on your ear, using the hand around your neck as leverage to pull you back down on his dick.

You couldn't keep track of how many orgasms he'd pulled out of you already, but you knew this wasn't the last one.

Tears of ecstasy pricked in the corners of your eyes and your head fell back against his strong shoulder, your bones melting into jelly.

"B-..Bruce, I can't-" You heaved, trying to get some oxygen in your lungs.

"Just one more for me, yeah, honey? I need this... I'll treat you so good after... please.." he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as you clenched around him.

You were reduced to moans and mewls, trying to keep yourself from slipping away.

Your skin felt clammy and shiver ran through you when the tip of his cock ever so slightly nudged your cervix.

"God, yes.." Bruce moaned through clenched teeth.

His hand left your clit, a whine falling from your lips at the loss of stimulation.

His hand came down between your thighs, landing a slap on your bundle of nerves.

You squealed, your eyes widneding at the new sensation. It was a delicious mix of pleasure and twinge of pain that had your legs shaking.

"Oh shit... please do that again!" You begged through heavy breaths.

Bruce chuckled breathlessly, continuing to give your clit small slaps, grunting when your cunt constricted around him. Your nth orgasm was bubbling up in your belly, euphoria gnawing on your bones.

"I'm gonna-... fuck!" You mewled, your whole body convulsing as the coil in your stomach snapped, and you came around him.

A moan got caught in his throat, and with a few hard thrusts, Bruce spilled inside of you, filling your sore pussy with his cum.

He slacked against the bed, taking you with him.

Rolling you over so you were comfortably resting on your side, he wrapped his arms around you and littered sweet kisses all over your shoulder and neck.

"I'm sorry, baby... I needed to get it out. I love you." He murmured into your skin, making you let out a sleepy giggle.

"I'd love a bath..." you mumbled, your face pressed halfway into a pillow.

"Whatever you want, my love."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I know it's short, I'm sorry 😭

More of my works -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @hellonheels-x @gaozorous-rex-blog

Lmk if you want to be added/removed 😚🩷

DC taglist is currently Bale!Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, and Dick Grayson.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

routine surveillance

batman x f!reader

a certain vigilante likes late night tv. but instead of the tonight show on his big television set at home, he watches you through your window.

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI (18+), masturbation (f), voyeurism, stalking, sex toys

word count: 1.1k

a/n: can be any batman you want but i'm a bale bat stan and i've noticed how stalker-y he is towards his love interests in his trilogy so... (too bad he didn't stalk miranda tate. could've saved him a stab wound.)

For his sanity and his morals, Batman rationalizes that stopping by your apartment window every night is just a routine background check. He only snoops on you for five minutes every night in the middle of patrol to see if you're a serious threat to him. Sometimes, on quiet nights, he watches you through your bedroom window for more than five minutes — of course, only to see if you're planning anything nefarious.

It has become part of his nightly routine when he goes on patrol. And it's becoming a bad habit. It's become so predictable by now.

Night after night, he finds himself standing outside your apartment's window, peeking through the curtains to see if you are doing anything suspicious.

Every time he thinks to himself that these midnight checkups are just part of his nightly routine and necessary to make sure you aren't a threat. Every other time, he can't help but admit the fact that he's becoming obsessed with keeping tabs on you.

Throughout the entire two weeks he has been surveilling you, you have done nothing of note. Nothing at all. But that doesn't stop Batman. He reasons that it's for Gotham's safety, not his personal stalker tendencies when a woman interests him.

Tonight is another one of those quiet nigts. He crouches on the rooftop of the building next to yours, looking through your bedroom window. You never close the curtains because you never thought anybody would be able to look in due to its height.

He watches as you read a novel under the dim, warm light of your bedside lamp. It's one of those cheap romance books that are filled with cliches and dirty scenes — something light to read before bed. You sigh, closing the book and slamming it onto my nightstand. You've clearly grown tired of it.

But you don't want to sleep yet. However, you're still very bored. With another sigh, you throw your blanket off your legs. You slide your underwear from under your oversized shirt, much to his shock.

All those other nights, he would keep his composure. But this time, he felt as if his mind was getting clouded. He is frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from you as he continues to watch with bated breath.

Is this the kind of man Batman is? It is, apparently, as he continues to be a peeping tom. He is many things: Gotham's dark knight, a caped crusader, a vigilante. And now, he can add one more thing to his resume: pervert.

He stares as you pull a pale skin-colored dildo out from your nightstand drawer. It's a decent size but still big. You're not unrealistic, he takes note. He never thought you'd be the kind of woman to own one, but he's finding out many things about himself and you tonight.

Your back is turned to the window, and in consequence, to him. You have no way of knowing that he is watching you. He can't see your expressions either.

You bite your lip as your position the toy on your hands and knees. You rub it along your slit to spread your juices on it, lubing it up. He can clearly hear the soft noises coming out of your mouth because of the tech in his cowl.

When you finally think you're ready, you begin to push the toy inside you, a long, drawn out moan escaping your lips. A hand on its base to keep it still on your mattress, you bounce on it, airy whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth.

He can't see much from the angle and because of my oversized shirt. But he can hear everything as you ride your toy, all thanks to his cowl. Despite his iron will and morality, he can't bring himself to even turn off the audio feed.

He should leave.

His conscience keeps telling him to just jump off the roof and take off with his grapple gun. He should. He really, really should.

He knows he should go now, but something is keeping him in place. His body won't move, his eyes unable to look away from you as the heat inside him keeps building up.

Why isn't he leaving?

He knows he needs to go, but the sight of you moving above your toy, your soft moans filling his ears like sweet poison. He can't bring himself to leave, his body slowly filling with want and desire.

His gloved hand slowly moves to grip onto the roof, his knuckles turning white from the grip as he fights the urge to move closer to the window. He knows he can't. That he shouldn't. But he wants to.

You slowly fall on your front, your face hitting the pillows. Your ass is now up in the air, giving him an explicit show. Your hand that used to hold the toy in place is now moving it, pumping it in and out of you in a languid pace. In consequence, the change in position has Batman seeing the toy stretching you out, wetness dripping down your thigh.

He is gripping onto the roof so hard, he's breaking the tiles. It's taking all of his will power not to just jump down through your window and give you what you need.

But he won't, he can't.

He is the symbol of justice. The one who fights for righteousness and order.

But god, hearing those desperate moans and your sloppy pussy is just driving him to the brink of madness. He is close to the point where he can't take it anymore. His cock is getting so hard that it's uncomfortable in his suit, confined by the rough armor.

The noises coming from your room are sloppy and wet, the sound of the toy slipping in and out of you mingling with your needy little moans and whimpers and gasps. You press your face onto the pillows a bit harder as your hand quickens the pace it thrusts the toy. He can see all of it, glistening flesh stretching around the pale skin-colored silicone.

Suddenly, your whole body quivers and pauses, thick fluid dripping down onto the mattress. He hears you let out a deep moan, a sound akin to relief. You let go of the toy and it quickly falls onto the small puddle on the sheets. He watches your flesh twitch and glisten around nothing and he wishes it's around his cock instead.

Then, his nightmare comes true.

You look back from your position and your eyes meet. You've been fully aware that he's been spying on you. And you've been wishing that dildo was his cock too.

What a pervert, you think about Batman — as you bite your lip and beckon him to join you inside with a come hither motion.

Bruce's controversially young girlfriend meeting Dick for the first time

a/n: I need to be his controversially young girlfriend, it's not funny anymore, BRUCE WAYNE WHERE ARE YOU I AM A LEGAL ADULT. Also, stole the sparkly divider from my lovely moot @laceyfaeryy, oops. cw: age gap, female reader

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the wide living room windows, slowly lulling you to sleep. You were no longer paying attention to the TV, your legs draped over the couch armrest.

Your eyelids were already drooping, your mind slipping in and out of consciousness, when you heard the front door open and close. Alfred greeted someone, and a young man's voice called out, “Hey, B! I think last night’s girl forgot her heels—” followed by a light chuckle.

You stirred awake as he waltzed into the living room, talking loudly, as if he owned the place.

“Oh. I was not aware Bruce had company. Does he know you’re here?” Dick asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion. “Richard Grayson, by the way.” He stretched a hand out to you, smirking.

“Well, he should know, because I live here,” you replied with a playful smile, taking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dick. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dick blinked at your response, his smirk fading as his brow furrowed further. “You live here?” he echoed, his tone betraying just how strange he found that idea. His eyes flitted over you again, confused.

“Wait… are you the new Robin? Where's Damian?”

You froze for a moment, completely blindsided by the question. “The what?” you asked, your voice sharp with confusion as you stared at him.

“Robin,” Dick repeated, gesturing vaguely toward you. “You know, sidekick, junior partner, running around in the middle of the night with a cape and a mask?” His words came out in a rush, almost like he was trying to make sense of the situation as he spoke. “I mean, I thought Bruce was done with the whole child sidekick thing after Damian, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised."

You blinked at him, baffled. “No,” you said firmly. “I’m not a Robin. I don’t—what? I’m not running around Gotham in a cape, okay?”

Before Dick could respond, Bruce's footsteps echoed down the stairs and along the hallway. As soon as he opened the door, you were already on your feet, running toward him and launching yourself into his arms.

“Bruce!” you exclaimed, a bright smile lighting up your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Bruce caught you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ground.

“Missed you,” you murmured, burying your face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—fresh and comforting, with a hint of leather. Home.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” he replied, his voice low and steady, but there was a softness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

“Long enough for me to get bored. I almost fell asleep waiting before Dick walked in. You didn’t tell me he was visiting; I would have made dinner reservations!” you frowned, crossing your arms playfully as you looked up at Bruce.

He chuckled softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t think you’d mind a surprise visitor. Besides, I didn’t know he was stopping by until he showed up.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile broke through your mock annoyance. The unexpected arrival of Dick had thrown a small wrench in the afternoon, but the bright sunlight streaming through the large windows warmed the room, and the spring air made even unexpected company feel right.

As you leaned against the plush couch, Bruce moved closer, exuding an effortless confidence. The afternoon sun highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw and the tousled dark hair that fell slightly over his forehead. When he looked at you, his gaze was soft, as if he was wholly focused on you. Your fingers pushed the stray hairs away from his eyes that dropped closed, long lashes brushing his cheekbones.

With a small sigh, Dick finally spoke up, “Alright, I’ll give you both some space.”

You untangled yourself from Bruce's embrace, "Wait, Dick! Are you staying for dinner?"

────୨ৎ────

tags: @laceyfaeryy @cherrycolaheartss @resting-confused-face

(if you want to be added to my taglist plsss comment it!)

MONEY HONEY

Bruce Wayne x camgirl!reader

tags: AFAB reader, brief age gap mention (reader is in her 20s), Bruce is low-key a little jealous and down bad, nicknames (sweetheart/baby) mutual masturbation, praise kink, webcam use, phone sex,

a/n: the DILF propaganda has gotten to me..

wc: 2.7k | part 2 | masterlist

Your whole camgirl side gig isn’t exactly something you shout from your rooftops about. But, it keeps your lights on, your ass in a nice apartment, and your feet in Louboutin heels.

You don’t tend to tell your friends what you’re at. Respectfully, that isn’t their issue. Weekly dinner reservations at Nobu and bottles of Dom Perignon should be enough to keep their running mouths occupied.

You have your own rules, you stick by them.

You pick and approve who watches your content, you pick how far you go, grateful that you’re in the position to do so. You don’t meet them in real life.

All you are is a fantasy to them, and you keep it that way.

You’re a pretty girl on a screen with a penchant for men with big bank accounts and more money than they know what to do with.

One of those men just so happens to be Bruce.

He came across you by accident, really. It was a couple of months ago by now.

You didn’t really know him, you didn’t really care. You never saw his face or heard his voice, all you saw was his money. He was always there when you did your regular streams, silent apart from hefty donations and notifications that he’d just ordered sets upon sets of pretty, lacy lingerie to your p.o box.

It’s started to shift recently. More money coming into your account, more matching sets, a new ring light since you’d grumbled under your breath about yours not working properly at one point, flowers.

Fuck, when’s the last time a guy even got you flowers?

He always made sure to outdo your other followers - tips of ten dollars sometimes, a twenty or a twenty five here and there. That’s cute and all, but to him? literal pocket change.

Not good enough in his books, not good enough for a pretty girl like you.

He has no reason to hate it, he’s just as bad as they are. But the green-eyed monster on his shoulder just has to prove he’s better, sending hundreds when he felt like it, just to watch your eyes widen.

Then came the messages.

They were few and far between but felt different than the thirsting, basement-dwelling idiots who usually drooled over your streams.

He kept it classy, always.

Less of the “show me your tits” and more of the “you look gorgeous, the pink lace suits you” followed by an “I’m sending you the blue next”

You like it, more than you’d really want to admit to yourself.

He likes it too. He likes watching your pretty face, your lips curling up into a soft smile when you open up all of his gifts, showing them off on your streams. He doesn’t mind that everyone watching can see them, it doesn’t matter. It matters that he bought those for you and that he’s the one getting his own personal photoshoot later.

You watch notifications pop up on your laptop with a sigh, your inbox flooded with messages, and questions from anything from where you live to why the hell you’re not streaming tonight.

You’re not streaming tonight cause you’re fucking tired, a girl needs her rest.

You’re just gonna take a few photos for your number one fan and call it a day. There’s a bottle of Chardonnay and half a pint of Ben and Jerry's in your freezer just calling your name.

As you fix up your nightgown, reaching over to turn off your laptop, a notification catches your attention.

@BRUCE_W: Hope you got the flowers in one piece, no stream this evening I take it?

You blink, staring at your laptop for a moment.

You hesitate, your nails dragging over your keyboard.

@CHAMPAGNESWEETHEART: I wasn’t planning to, but for you I could ;)

Three little dots come and go at the bottom of your laptop screen, like he’s typing and then pausing once more.

In reality, he’s just trying to get his words together, trying not to come across as weird. He doesn’t really know how to do this kind of stuff. He’s out many women through his mattress in real life, but this whole online thing? fuck no.

@BRUCE_W: is it alright if I call you?

You don’t usually take private calls. They take away both time and money from regular streams you could be doing.

But this is Bruce of all people. He’s solely responsible for the overpriced wine you’re sipping on and the LaPerla set you’re lounging in. You didn’t even know underwear could cost that much..

@CHAMPAGNESWEETHEART: gimme two seconds ;)

That sudden, random burst of confidence has you piling on another layer of mascara for good measure, pushing your tits up a little in reflection of your screen before cringing slightly - he’s just another guy, it doesn’t matter.

@BRUCE_W IS CALLING

You push your laptop down your mattress slightly, pulling your robe open a little more, just so he has some more cleavage to look at since he pays you so good.

You lean over, accepting the call and holding in a breath.

It goes unsaid, the sight of this Bruce guy before you isn’t entirely what you expected.

He’s much hotter, much older than you thought he would be.

It kinda clicks now, the fact that even in your comments he’s had more gentlemanly manners than your other regulars.

Luckily, you like your men like you like your wine, rich and.. slightly older.

Perhaps it’s the salt-and-pepper stubble or just the way they carry themselves, relaxed like they’ve done this all a million times before.

You observe him for a moment longer, noticing the dark room he’s in, his tie loose around his neck as he adjusts his own laptop.

He grips his whiskey glass a little tighter, words escaping him for a moment as he eyes you before offering a curt nod.

“Hey,” He seems a little uncertain at first, taking a drawn-out swig of his whiskey before leaning back in his chair.

“You're new to this I take it?” you offer a small smile into your hand, watching the screen from under your lashes.

“Wow, I thought I was subtle.” Bruce murmurs, setting his glass down for a moment.

He’s cursing himself silently. He’s never had any problem talking to women in his whole life. It’s ridiculous how a pretty girl on his screen has rendered him speechless- you’re what? twenty-something? It’s fucking embarrassing.

He can’t help letting his eyes wander down his laptop screen, shifting his thighs slightly when he sees the set he got you peeking out from under your robe.

“You look gorgeous, the pink set is to your taste, I take it?”

“It’s my favourite so far,” you nod, pushing your robe down your shoulders slightly, just a little bit, just to tease.

He makes a mental note to buy you more, to send them to you in every single colour he can get his hands on. He’s trying not to spiral thinking about it actually, imagining you modelling every single thing he wants to dress you up in.

But now just isn’t the time to fantasise about that stuff, not when he has you on the screen in front of him. Just for him, for once.

“How does this work?” He clears his throat, setting the glass down and trying to ignore the way his slacks feel tighter.

“However you want it to work.”

Your answer has his hands sliding down to rest on his thighs, leaning back in his chair.

You leaving it up to him like that has a way of making his spine tingle, he can tell you’re a little bit tired at least. It’s nice actually, it doesn’t feel like you’re putting on as much of an act.

"Can you talk to me first, for a little bit?" He managed to reply, his eyes taking in the view in front of him.

“Please?”

“Anything you wanna hear about?”

“Not really,” he swallows, his eyes fixed on your cleavage.

“I just like your voice. Is that a strange thing to say?”

You feel your cheeks heating up slightly, shaking your head as you pull your robe open by another little fraction.

“No, not at all.”

You can tell he doesn’t want this to feel like a transaction.

After a few minutes of back and forth, a lot of his initial hesitation has dissipated. You do genuinely seem like a sweet girl. He likes the way you act on your streams anyway, but since he’s technically calling you after hours it feels a lot more intimate, real even.

“Tired?” He rasps softly into his glass, arching a brow when he hears you trailing off slightly, watching you move to lean back against your plush headboard.

“A little."

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to keep you up too long, sweetheart.”

You’re not one to really care for pet-names that randos on the internet give you but good God, does that make you feel things.

It has you pressing your thighs together, more than it fucking should.

“I don’t mind.” You murmur, thankful that he isn’t there in real time to notice the way your cheeks heat up.

Seeing your reaction made his eyes soften.. and his cock throb a little, letting out a small sigh as if he were relieved, glad he isn’t bothering you. He didn't realise how on edge he was until you took that weight off of his shoulders.

"Good." Bruce murmurs, his eyes watching your hands fiddling with the sleeve of that robe, his mind wandering.

"Can I ask you to.. take that off?"

“You can ask for anything you want.” You nod, gently twirling your fingers around the tie of your robe, pulling it open.

Your compliance, along with the sight of the soft lace pressed against your skin has him swallowing, his narrowed gaze roaming over every single contour of your body.

"Good girl." He muttered under his breath. Those two words felt almost foreign to say, but he said it anyway, seeing you like this.

You shouldn’t care. It’s just work.

But fuck, does it feel like more than that.

His hands fidgeted on the arms of his chair, resisting the urge to undo his belt, his cock straining in his slacks getting harder to ignore.

Noticing his discomfort you shift slightly on your bed, running your fingers over the lace of your bra.

“I’m not gonna stop you, you know that?”

Bruce's eyes flickered up to the screen, seeing your small smile, your fingers gently playing with the lace. Those words alone were enough to make his hands immediately move to work on his belt, fumbling with it to take it off before popping the button of his slacks, letting out a groan under his breath.

"I was just... trying to be polite."

Watching him makes you bite your tongue slightly, trying to hide the way you press your thighs together again, your eyes locked on his through the screen as you slowly slide your hand down lower, running your thumb over the bow at the front of your underwear.

“I never asked you to be.”

“Fuck, I feel like I buy you dinner first,” His hands quickly went to the opening of his slacks, not wasting time to pull out his hardening length, giving himself one firm stroke.

Your mouth is agape for a split second, staring at your screen with wide eyes.

It’s just work. None of this is real. None of this matters.

But you know what does matter? The fact you’re wet and can’t even hide it under that thin, pastel pink lace.

"Shit." He murmured, trying to keep his eyes on the screen.

His left hand moved from the armrests to grab at his whiskey to down it in one go, taking in the sight in front him.

"Are you wet, sweetheart?"

“Yeah?” Your nod is less confident than you’d like it to be as you run your fingers over the lace again, letting out a shaky breath. You shouldn’t care - this is literally just part of what you do.

"Take them off for me, baby." He panted out, his dick now straining in his boxers so hard it’s almost painful. His other hand gripped onto his thigh, his fingers digging into his legs to ground himself as much as he could.

"Let me see you."

You’re repeating your mantra over and over in your head. You’ve got zero reason to be as turned on as you are, it’s just work.

But your pussy seems to disagree on that one.

With another nod, you hook your fingers into the thin fabric, gently pulling your underwear down your thighs, the sight making Bruce bite his fist to hold back a groan.

He literally can’t take it anymore. He can’t be polite.

“Holy fuck,” He lets out another groan as he takes himself in his hand, spitting into his palm.

Okay, you liked that more than you should’ve.

"You have no idea how... good you look right now." He rasps out, his head tilting back against his chair.

"All... for me, yeah?" His hand on his thigh moved up to his chest, fumbling the top few buttons on his shirt. He needed to feel a little cooler or he’d have a literal heart attack.

“Yeah,” you manage another nod.

“Spread your thighs, baby. Show me how wet she is.”

Well, now it’s your turn to almost have a heart attack, spreading your thighs open as your fingers curl into your bedsheets.

“There she is, good girl” Bruce moaned under his breath, his hand on his cock starting to move faster.

"Pretty girls... like you.." His tongue came out to swipe at his lips, the sight in front of him making him lose his train of thought, reaching a hand up to loosen his tie.

"They deserve to be taken care of, right?”

“Right,” you echo, unable to hold yourself together at this point, going against your usual logic and reaching your hand down, groaning under your breath at how your body betrays you with how embarrassingly wet you are.

Your arm instinctively goes to drape over your eyes, shaking your head as you mumble something incoherent, your fingers rubbing over your clit.

“No no no, look at me,” Bruce chokes out, biting down on his tie to hold back yet another groan.

“Your hands are mine, alright?”

That makes your head fall forward, your back arching at the thought of it.

“Uhuh,”

You don’t care that you’ve never met him, you don’t care that you probably never will, but fuck, the things you’d let him do to you if you ever did.

He bites his tongue for a moment, brows knitting together as he feels himself starting to leak even more, giving his cock another hard pump.

“But my hands are probably bigger than yours, aren’t they?”

That makes you whine under your breath. You know he’s right and now you can’t get that fucking image out of your head - his large hands holding your thighs open, holding your neck maybe, his fingers in your mouth, his fingers against your pussy-

You’re trying not to drool at the thought of it, it’s not working and he can tell exactly what you’re thinking.

He’s thinking the same thing.

“Poor girl, everyone gets off to you but no one to get you off? You just wanna get fucked, don’t you?”

You can’t tell if he’s being condescending or not - but he likely is.. unfortunately, you like that.

“F-fuck,”

Progress, he’s made you lose your composure and swear. Not so classy now, are you?

Watching your back arch and your fingers move faster when he says that has his mouth falling open, sweat clinging to his chest under his open shirt.

He’s been through enough women to know what it looks like when one’s about to cum, but dear god you might just be the prettiest one he’s ever seen.

It makes him lose his shit altogether actually, a dishevelled mess when he sees your thighs shake, too distracted to realise that he isn’t far behind you, groaning under his breath with his mouth agape as he stares at the mess he’s made of his tailored slacks, chest heaving as his own cum drips down his fist, he’s embarrassed, fumbling with his laptop to shut the screen off.

Jesus Christ, he’s Bruce Wayne. Not some 20-something year old. He’s been around the block! He should be able to do better than this!

It’s like you’re blacked out for a good while, regaining a sense of reality with slick dripping down your thighs as you come down from your high, mascara pooling under your eyes as you stare at a notification on your laptop, making you press your legs together again.

@BRUCE_W: I’m serious, I owe you dinner.

He owes you a lot fucking more than that.

a/n: DILF ERA IS COMING SEND ME INSPO IN MY ASKS I BEGGGG!?!!?? I NEED IDEAS (lmk if u want more Bruce idk??) 🙏 (John Constantine I have my eye on you with ominous intent..)

also wtf thank u for 200 followers I love you!!

part 2

Bruce Wayne m.list

ME, MY GIRLFRIEND AND MY GIRLFRIEND'S GIRLFRIEND BEST FRIEND

Summary: You and your bestie are a package deal; you thought he knew that by now.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x fem! reader. Feat. best friend Donna, Kori, Stephanie and Diana.

DICK GRAYSON

It was one of those rare quiet nights. No alarms blaring, no villains plotting, no Bat-signals shining in the sky. Just Dick sprawled across the couch, half-watching a documentary and waiting for you to come back from the kitchen with popcorn.

You returned, phone pressed to your ear, clearly in the middle of a conversation with someone. You handed him the bowl before plodding back into the kitchen to get some drinks.

Dick watched you go with a smile. You were glowing—laughing at whatever was being said on the other end of the line, looking carefree and happy. He couldn’t help but admire you. You were everything good in his life wrapped up in one person. And tonight, he felt especially lucky to have you.

You were FaceTiming someone. Based on the way you were laughing and swapping stories from a wild night out, he assumed it was one of the girls, probably Donna or Kory.

You disappear from his line of sight, and he turns his focus back to the TV. Until you appear behind him, holding out the bottle of soda, and then he hears it.

"I love you!"

He looked up. You were smiling, voice soft and sincere. His heart stopped at the words, nearly bursting in delight. You'd said it, you'd finally said the three words he so longed to hear.

He spins around, popcorn bowl flying as he locks his arms around your waist over the back of the couch and all but vibrates in excitement, shouting, "I love you too babe!"

Only to falter when you wriggle loose, shooting him an incredulous look as you hold your phone up near your mouth.

"Dick, what the hell? I'm on the phone." You scold him.

"Wha? Who are you professing your love to?" He squawks in outrage.

"Um, Donna?" You raise a brow, as if to say, duh.

"Donna?" He reels back with a whine, hand over his heart in offence that's only half fake.

"Oh my God, you're such a baby." You sigh, "Donna, I gotta go." Donna let out an amused laugh before you hung up, throwing your phone on the couch.

"Get up loser." You roll your eyes.

"Why? Just go and be with Donna."

"For the love of fuck." you huffed, "I love you, Dick. But if you're gonna be annoying about it then maybe I will go and —"

Dick suddenly lunges for you once more, burying his face in your stomach and whining like a petulant child. "You love me more than Donna, right?"

"...Sure, baby." You threw up a mental prayer, hoping Donna would forgive you.

JASON TODD

"Babe? You home?"

"On the couch, Jay." You call back, making him falter a little. You always ran to greet him when he got home, no matter what you were doing.

You don't sound injured or distressed, but Jason can't help the anxiety that rises in his chest as he stalks through the apartment. Only to freeze in betrayal at the sight of Starfire sitting on your lap, her arms wrapped around your neck as the two of you giggle together over some inside joke.

"Are you... are you cuddling my girlfriend?" He looked offended, glaring at where Kori was snuggling into your neck.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch Jason." You rolled your eyes, "Besides, you literally made out with Roy the other day?"

"For the mission!" Jason sputtered, cheeks as red as his helmet.

"Whatever you wanna tell yourself hon." You hummed.

Jason dramatically drops his helmet on the table and crosses his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Great. Just great. What’s next? A wedding invitation?"

Kori shrugs. "You would be welcome to attend."

Jason’s brain momentarily short-circuited before he sputtered. "…That was a joke, Kori."

You snort. "Don’t explode, Jay. We’re best friends. This is just Kori being affectionate. You know how she is."

Jason squinted suspiciously, pointing an accusatory finger. "I don’t sit on Roy’s lap. Not like that."

"Okay," you deadpanned, "but you could, you just don't."

Jason narrowed his eyes, walking slowly toward the couch, still pouting. "I feel like I’ve walked into a really weird romcom. Or a very specific fanfiction."

Kori simply smiled at Jason, not bothering to move. "Do not worry, Jason. You are still her chosen snuggle companion for the nightly hours."

"Damn right I am."

That night, as you lay in bed, Jason's arms wrapped tightly around you, on the verge of falling asleep, he suddenly asked. "You love me more than her, right, babe?"

You blink sleepily. "Hmm? Babe, I live with you."

"That’s not a no."

TIM DRAKE

Tim’s curled up on the couch in full comfort mode: hoodie, blanket, snacks, and a fond little smile on his face as he taps the FaceTime icon next to his girlfriend’s name.

It rings once. Twice. Then the screen opens to reveal not you, his beloved girlfriend, but Stephanie Brown.

In what appears to be a changing room, with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hey, Loverboy."

Tim chokes on a gummy bear. "Why are you answering?!"

She grins, swinging the camera around to show you, standing in front of a mirror, wearing an absolutely illegal red lace number.

You gasp. "STEPHANIE!"

"You said you wanted his opinion!" She cackles.

"I meant after I bought it! It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Tim sputters, "I can check the fit! That’s literally my job!"

You tried not to laugh. "Babe, please stop behaving like you’re in an interview."

"But, I’m qualified! More than her! That should be me!" He says, indignant.

Steph winks. "Clearly not, if you’re stuck watching from home."

You grin, unable to stop yourself from throwing fuel on the fire. "It’s true. It’s a bestie thing. Steph’s like my other half."

"I thought I was your other half." Tim's eye was twitching.

"You thought wrong!" Steph mocked, wrapping her arms around you and cupping one of your boobs with her free hand as Tim screeched bloody murder over the phone.

"Those are mine! Mine!"

"Not anymore. Bye loser." Steph cackled before abruptly hanging up the phone, promptly declining every one of Tim's spam calls as you watched on with a wince.

"Steph, when I said I wanted to blow his mind, this is not what I meant."

BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce was exhausted, his bruises had bruises and muscles he wasn't previously aware of ached. It had been the 'week from hell', as Dick had moaned, with a large-scale Arkham breakout not even the worst thing that had happened.

His only solace had been knowing you'd be waiting for him in bed that night, soft and warm, your very presence enough to soothe him as you cuddled into his chest.

The batsuit lay scattered across the ground, he'd apologise to Alfred for the mess later, if he remembered, right now all he wanted was to pull you against his bare chest and bury his face in your neck for the foreseeable future.

He'd gotten back far later than expected, and though the bedroom door was open, your back was to him, snuggled under the covers having fallen asleep waiting for him.

Carefully pulling the covers back, he slid in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist with a contented sigh. Only to freeze at the feel of another body next to you. He's not immediately alarmed, assuming it's just Damian, only to nearly fall out of the bed at the sight of Diana.

"Hmm, Bruce?" You groaned, rolling to face him with a sleepy smile.

"Honey. There's an Amazon in our bed." He sighs.

"We're having a sleepover." You mumble, as if that was enough of an explanation.

"Whyyy?" He whines, too exhausted to be embarrassed about his childish behaviour.

"Cause cuddles."

"I give you cuddles!"

"Not Amazonian cuddles." You mumble under your breath.

"Are you saying she's better than me?" Bruce was outraged.

"It's not a competition." Before Bruce can counter, your door creaks open again, revealing an excited looking Clark dressed in pyjamas.

"No." He growls, making you, Clark and Diana all whine.

"Bruce, you know Clark gets fomo!"

You kidnapped the nine year old Tim Drake, yet the Drake parents won't even answer the phone to get him back or even acknowledge he was missing to begin with. Where are they? What could possibly be more important than their own child? If you had a kid, you'd do anything for them. You'd love them so much it would ruin you. Where could they possibly be?

You eyed Tim carefully. He looked and felt completely unphased, maybe even a bit happy because his day wasn't filled with dreaded boredom that weighed heavy on most of his days. He wanted to study you, but he had too many questions to voice just one, so he stayed silent. Watching. Observing. He found you fascinating.

"Where the hell are your parents, kid?"

You asked Tim with clear irritation. It had been hours with no police call nor answer to the ransom note you left on Tim's bed as you carried an unconscious Tim to this ratty warehouse. Tim shrugged. He didn't know. He was taking notes on Bruce Wayne for his Batman theory at the time, and they never told him when they left or when they would come home.

"I don't know. They might not even be in the country. I vaguely remember them talking about a month long trip to Peru."

You raised your eyebrows. An entire month? Do you want to keep this kid an entire month for some not-so-quick cash? This is such terrible luck. Of course, you kidnapped the kid with parents who are on vacation. What rubbish luck.

"And they just... left you behind?"

Tim nodded as if that was normal. He wasn't even trying to escape. He figured you would have killed him by now if you were going to kill him, and you haven't been roughing him up, so this was just like talking to a friend but with bondage.

You sighed and shook your head, muttering about terrible parents. You can't keep him tied up for an entire month, however, so either you have to let him go and kidnap someone else or keep him in hopes his parents do eventually show up and pay close enough attention to figure out he's missing.

It was then that you made a decision. A decision you weren't sure you'd regret or not. A lifestyle changing decision.

"Hey, kid. Let's play a game."

Tim's face lit up. He nodded enthusiastically, shifting in the chair he's tied to. You explained,

"We are going to pretend I'm your mom until they figure out you are missing. I'll return you when they notice you are missing."

Tim looked at you with far too intelligent eyes and said with a soft tone,

"They won't be looking."

You frowned. Surely, they would notice eventually. The Drake family was the best family to target because their son is said to be loved dearly. The parents were rich enough to pay good money for Tim. But, if they are gone... maybe you could pretend to be a nanny for the money. Tim isn't a bad kid to keep an eye on. You pursed your lips in thought before picking up the knife you brought. Tim flinched as you approached, but you reassured him,

"I'm just cutting the ropes."

Tim nodded and tried to remain calm when you got close enough for him to feel the blade sawing through the ropes. He thought you were about to kill him for wasting your time, but you genuinely were just cutting the ropes. You were going to let him free. Just like that.

But Tim stayed. You gave him the option to run, yet he didn't. He stood up from the chair and looked at you seriously. He murmured timidly,

"Can you be my mom permanently instead?"

You blinked down at the kid, now approaching you for a hug. You awkwardly hugged Tim and mumbled,

"Munchkin, I'm not a good mother figure."

Tim buried his face in your chest. He didn't want to let you go. From his observations, you seem like you'd be the perfect mother for him. Intelligent, kind, with a big heart that seemed like it would accept everyone. His analytical mind is almost never wrong. His muffled voice said,

"You'd be better than my current mom."

You frowned, but even you can agree something has to change in the poor kid's life. He can't be caged and paraded around like a prop. He is a real person with real emotions. You can't subject him to a life of crime, however, so you'd have to turn your life around for him. Not to even mention the challenges that come with motherhood and the fact you will struggle immensely to become something more than just another kidnapping thug.

You might be able to take advantage of Wayne Enterprise and use the tuition packages promised to all employees to go to university. You'd get a job and a better home. You could build a life for yourself and Tim. The plan was already forming in your head. You really shouldn't be considering this insane idea. You never expected to have a child, let alone adopt one that you kidnapped.

Yet... his beautiful blue eyes looked at you like you would be the best mother in the world. You shook your head to shake away the thought. You can't be seriously considering this, right? You wouldn't have the money to keep him if you went to university and turned your life around the correct way. You should wait until you are stable before accepting him as your own. You wouldn't even have much time to play with him like a normal child would require at his age.

"I don't need much."

He seemed to be ready to beg. He was tired of being a toy. He was tired of being invisible unless the cameras were on. He just wanted to be loved and adored, and he is certain you would love him the way he deserves to be loved. He deserves to be cherished. You closed your eyes. This is a monumental decision, but you said before Tim could start pleading,

"I would need legal documentation of the adoption."

You don't need the Bat to come after your new child when the Drakes start asking questions. Tim grinned and hugged you tighter. You looked down at him and said, completely bewildered,

"Your life is downgrading. Why are you so happy?"

Tim's reply broke your heart,

"I'm not downgrading if I'm loved."

You almost started crying. This poor nine year old wanted love so badly he was willing to let his kidnapper become his mother. You ruffled his hair affectionately. This may be the worst decision of your life or the best. He said almost excitedly,

"I can forge my dad's signature and look up adoption paperwork to file!"

That's illegal, but he seemed determined now that he felt free. You shook your head but smiled at the irony. Who are you to care about the law after kidnapping a kid for ransom anyway?

"Let's get your things, kiddo. We have a lot of illegal paperwork to do."

The Bat did come knocking on your doorstep exactly one month later, but you said you adopted him just before the Drake's left for vacation, so they must have simply forgotten. Tim, now using the power of love and childhood guts, said,

"Bruce Wayne, leave my mom alone!"

Batman looked startled, but you kissed Tim's forehead and told him gently that it was time for bed. Tim pouted. He had all the proof!

"I believe you, baby, but there are some things that are supposed to remain private. Batman doesn't owe you his secrets."

Bruce may have fallen in love with you on the spot. You take good care of Tim. He's clean, healthy, and obviously happy with you if he's willing to stand up against Batman to keep you in his life. It's the happiest he's ever seen Tim Drake, come to think of it. Bruce half-heartedly continued to ask his questions,

"How did you adopt him?"

Illegally, allegedly. You looked at Tim with a warm smile as he responded proudly,

"I found her all. by. my. self!"

Batman smiled fondly. Tim acted as if he was the one who chose to adopt him. How did you get the Drake family to approve an adoption? They probably didn't. If he was thorough, he has no doubt he would find an error of some kind that would bust the adoption story and turn it into a kidnapping. He knows they would never sign him over when he is the reason they stay in the spotlight.

Bruce eyed your worn-out state. You were new to children, evidently, and he was impressed how well you were doing with him. Bruce had the same exhaustion when he first adopted Dick, but what really sold it was the soft way you looked at Tim.

Tim is your world like Dick and Jason are his world. How could he rip the loving family apart? He can't. The warmth of your love practically smothers Tim, and it shows in the way he clings to your waist. He seemed like he was ready to fight for you and the fierce love he's cherished for the month that he's been with you.

Bruce could fall in love with you so easily and so quickly. The way you love Tim was the way he loves his boys. He needs someone like you, who would accept his boys and love them the same way you seem to love and adore Tim. You cherished every moment and celebrated the activities he's found interest in. Bruce decided he could look the other way this one time. He needed to focus on his own children anyway.

He noticed Robin cartwheeling his way back to Bruce's side and smiled fondly. Dick recently taught him basic gymnastics tricks, and he's been in love with every one of them since. Bruce said in a stern tone,

"Don't let this happen again."

You physically relaxed and gave him a grateful smile. Because you knew that he knew there was more to the story, but he didn't pry, and you didn't let Tim say Batman's secret outside your house.

Bruce Wayne did inevitably come back to you and eventually made his own offer: Do you want to gain more kids and date the wealthiest man in Gotham? He wants his kids to experience the fierce love you give Tim, and Jason is a saint as a child. You might even mend the bridge between him and Dick. So, do you accept? Will you be the mother to his children?

DC ✢ When he admitted he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark. This is a companion piece to another headcanon called 'When he realised he loved you' linked here. Though, you can still read it independently.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

Bruce did not say it in a quiet moment — for such moments were rare. Though, when they did find him, he spent them with you in silence. Not with words but simply by being near, by existing in your presence.

No. It came during an argument. One of those arguments that shakes the very foundations of a relationship — not because of what was said, but because of what had never been, what was expected.

You had asked him — raw, wounded — what you meant to him. What all this was. Why he kept forming barriers between you, when all you had ever wanted to do was break through.

His answer had been frigid. Precise. Calculated and sharpened. A blade forged from old habits, Bruce wielded it with an unconscious mastery, a last-ditch defence mechanism perfected over decades.

You left. Not in fury, but in heartbreak, disappointment — the kind that does not cry, does not scream, but simply broods into silence. Your absence rang louder than a slammed door, louder than any yell you could have mustered.

Alfred did not speak. Just passed Bruce in the hallway with the kind of look that had once made him sit straighter as a boy. And now, it made him feel small once more, as though he were still a child.

Time passed and still, silence.

He found you in the garden, beneath a sky now thick with stars, the sun had still been gleaming when you had hurried away. You had not been crying. You were still. And in that stillness, he saw the damage he had inflicted upon you.

‘I can’t seem to protect what I love,’ he said, words fractured, conflicted. ‘Not my parents. Not Jason… Not you —’ 

You turned. Not startled by the confession, but by the break in his voice. You had never seen him like this before, never so fragile. 

‘But I do. I love you. I want… I need you to know that.’

It was not cinematic. No kiss. No arms thrown around shoulders. Just him, standing before you, hollowed by an atypical honesty, praying you would believe him — even if he was undeserving of that trust.

And you did. You believed him. Bruce could see it in the ease of your countenance, in the smile that now warmed your face. But even so, he apologised as though he had committed a most heinous crime.

You pulled yourself to your feet, still wordless. And enveloped him in your arms.

‘I love you too, Bruce.’

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

Dick meant to say it casually — with that charming nonchalance that usually came so naturally to him. He had rehearsed it, even. Smiled in the mirror once or twice. But it never felt right, never felt adequate. It was too simple a word to describe what he felt for you. 

But love, he discovered, should not wait for perfect timing.

It came unexpectedly late one evening, while a movie played in the background — some low-budget film neither of you had been truly watching. Your head was on his shoulder. His thumb was tracing invisible shapes into your side.

And then — suddenly breathless, it had grown too large to contain, he could not hold it any longer,

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked like someone newly roused from a dream, and looked at him as though he had spoken in a foreign language. Dick was not confident he had not. 

When you remained quiet, he chuckled, uneasy. And brought his hand to the back of his neck, in a nervous, boyish manner. 

‘I mean — I have. For a while. I just didn’t want to ruin it by...’ He trailed off, not quite sure what he was saying. 

You remained quiet for a few moments more, contemplating. The juncture of silence stretched taut, he held his breath. And then you smiled. 

As soft as the moonlight now shining through the curtains, you whispered, ‘I love you, too.’

He kissed you gently, as though he were trying to make up for all the times he had not said it sooner. In that moment, he was not Dick Grayson, he was not Nightwing or the Boy Wonder — he was simply someone lucky enough to be loved by you.

To this day, he cannot for the life of him remember the movie that had been playing. All he could remember was that smile — the way it had already lit up your eyes by the time it reached your mouth and the enthralling, glowing warmth that had flooded his system.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

You were stitching him up again — hands steady, breath shallow, a routine so familiar it hurt. Nothing fatal. Nothing new. His form was half-draped in shadow, skin cold under your touch. You sat cross-legged before him. 

‘You’ve got to stop doing this,’ you murmured, not for the first time and certainly not the last. 

He did not answer. Because what would he tell you? Not the truth, you would not want to hear it. Every stitched-up wound felt like proof that you cared; he could not resist the temptation. He did not believe you could love a man like him, but when he felt your gentle fingers work over his skin, he let himself consider it; he let himself yearn. 

‘I’d die for you, you know?’ he muttered. Off-handed. As though it were the most obvious thing, as though it were as easy as breathing.

A frown turned your face. ‘That’s not comforting, Jason.’

And then — something unspooled. A thread that had been pulled too tight for too long. Jason sighed.

‘What I was trying to say… What I meant was… I love you —’ He looked into your eyes, gaze piercing, willing you to see the truth of it. 

The words had flooded out like a barrage breaking open. ‘That’s all I’m trying to say. I’d die for you because… I can’t picture a world without you in it. I wouldn’t want to.’ He shivered at this, at the concept of a sphere you did not grace, the very notion made him ill. 

You stilled. Hands held suspended above him, pausing their work.

He was not looking for a response — only a release; he had needed this off his chest. But you gave him one anyway.

‘I love you, too.’ You had uttered it so softly, had Jason not already been watching your lips, he may have missed it. His breath caught — not in fear, but in awe — as though his lungs had momentarily forgotten their most natural function.

Your words felt like electricity brimming beneath his skin — like every nerve had been awoken at once. A new fullness bloomed within his chest, as though the ribs could no longer host his heart; as if it had suddenly grown too large to contain.

He spoke up again, softer this time,  ‘I’ll try to live for you too. That part’s harder. But believe me when I say I want it. More than anything.’ He gave you one of his rare smiles, and your heart jolted.

You silently placed the first aid materials to the side and leaned in, placing your head against his shoulder. After a short while you shifted, leaving scattered kisses across his fading scars, lingering on each for a moment, he felt that same electricity once more. 

Your hands ghosted over him like he were something precious, as though the ruin of him was worth loving, and that was the message you were trying to convey, what you were trying to have him understand.

Jason did not sleep that night. Not out of pain or panic, but because he was afraid it had been a dream. That peace, for someone like him, was more fragile, more fleeting than any reverie; and he could not stand the idea of waking up.

T I M⠀D R A K E

You both had been working late, each focused on your own tasks, yet relishing in the silent company of one another; the peace of it. Tim sat at his desk, while you lay across his bed, legs swinging behind you with a pen in hand.

Tim had asked you to stay at the manor for the night, but you had gently refused, reminding him you had work in the morning. You got up and walked over, placing both hands on either shoulder. You then pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered in his ear.

‘I better head off now.’ He leaned his head back into you, and his eyes met yours, smiling.

And then — too casually, too instinctively — he said, ‘Okay, love you.’

The words had flowed out like a torrent. A sudden, unexpected failure in his system.

Then a silence dropped like a stone in deep water — sudden, heavy, and irreversible; absolute.

He froze. His eyes were wide, as though the phrase had been spoken by an imposter, by someone else within his skin. He had known this fact for a long time, it had only been a matter of time.

‘I didn’t — I mean — that wasn’t—well, it was, but —’ He stopped. His words crashed over each other, panicked and sputtered.

You tilted your head. Shock the dominant expression on your face.

‘You love me?’

He nodded, slowly, it would be silly to deny it; to lie. Shame crept into the corners of his expression. What if he had said it too soon? What if the word drew you away?  Then suddenly you smiled, as though you had been waiting for this exact failure, this exact slip-up.

‘Well… that’s good,’ your whisper was tender. ‘Because I love you too.’

And just like that, his spiralling mind halted. His thoughts — so often a storm of what-ifs and whys — were suddenly still.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders eased and melted away. He let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding — shaky, but smiling. It was not his usual tight-lipped smirk, nor the polite upward curve he would give strangers — this one was real. Quiet, disbelieving and full.

You leaned downward and rested your forehead against his, your hand moving to cradle his cheek. Tim leaned into it like he had been starved of its softness. You spoke through a grin.

‘Maybe I should stick around. Was that your plan all along?’

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E⠀(Aged up as Batman)

Damian did not like the word love. Not at first. The word felt paltry. Trite. A flippant syllable never built to hold the sheer weight of what he carried for you.

You had just bested him in sparring. You always did, but only because he allowed it — Damian would sooner impale himself on his training blade than admit it, but it was not as though you were unaware. You had thought it cute, an adjective you would never dare utter to his face. 

Damian had no shortage of self-pride. The fact he was willing to sacrifice it, simply to please you, always left you breathless. 

You extended your hand to guide him up, but he simply stared at it from his place on the mat, his gaze shifting upward. You were standing over him, a barely contained smirk donning your features. 

‘You do not understand what you mean to me,’ he said, voice low and filled with a thousand ulterior meanings, though they bled through, his tone turning earnest.

You did not speak. You simply waited.

‘This feeling,’ he tried again, ‘it disrupts everything. My training. My thoughts. My plans. Everything. It… it…’ He trailed off, not sure how to finish what he was saying, not confident that the words capable of conveying these feelings were extant across any vernacular, it seemed too implausible. 

You smiled, faintly. ‘You mean love?’

He flinched like you had cursed. But then — after a moment — he nodded.

‘Yes. That.’ It was not enough, but he figured he would concede. ‘I feel it. Unwillingly. But truthfully.’

You laughed, it was warm and bell-like. It struck something tender in him, something still learning to hope.

‘I love you too, Damian.’

How was it, that word he had held with such contempt, such scrutiny and scepticism, was suddenly so weighted, so gorgeous uttered from your lips? How was it so impactful now it was directed towards him? 

He looked away, not from shame, but from overwhelm. He had fought assassins, atrocious criminals, and the weight of his father’s legacy — but never had he felt something as all-consuming as being wanted, as overwhelming as the thought of your love.

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He had told you on a rooftop. Not because it was histrionic, but because it was distant — far above the world’s inescapable noise, yet still beneath its stars. 

You were talking about something entirely ordinary. Rent, perhaps. The cost of your water bill.

But he was not listening, not truly. He watched as your lips moved and thought only of how he yearned to kiss them, to wake up to them each and every morning. 

And then he looked at you. Really looked. And the words came like wind through the ether — soft, inevitable.

‘I love you.’ He had cut you off, but it needed to be said. He could not have lived another moment without these words held suspended between you. 

You smiled, easy. ‘I know.’

But he shook his head. Shifting closer. There was an ache in his voice, a gravity to it.

‘No. I love you. Not in the way people say when they’re hanging up the phone. Or when they leave for work in the morning. I love you like… like…’ He paused, eyebrows furrowed, ‘I’m not sure I can put it into words —’ He places his hands on either side of your cheeks. 

You stopped breathing.

‘You’ve given me something no one else has,’ he said, his voice near breaking. ‘Not because you wanted a hero. But because you saw me — as nothing more than a man. The farmboy. The one who still forgets to fold his laundry, after you’ve already asked him five times…’

You let out a sudden laugh, but it was not for his joke, your joy at his admission could not be contained; it surged out. You kissed him.

‘I love you, too.’ You murmured, Clark could hear the smile within your voice. Then he thought of the stars glimmering upon them, they shone bright, yet still somehow paled in your comparison. 

I was thinking of expanding upon the Jason Todd section and turning it into its own one-shot, would anyone be interested in that? Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

DC ✢ When he realised he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

The moment had been a quiet revelation, in a silence so profound it frightened him. The kind of silence that followed the first crack of thunder, one moment loud and undeniable, the next building with tension, waiting for it to strike again. 

You were sitting in the library of the manor, an arcane book resting open upon your lap, the fire crackling softly behind you. He had just returned from patrol — broken, bloodied, and defeated.

You looked up, eyes wide, alarmed at his state and asked, ‘Bruce?’ You had spoken as if he were not the Batman, not an emblem of vengeance and grit, but a man, just a man, whose hurt mattered.

Something in him gave out. Not in an ostentatious, cinematic collapse, but in the subtle yielding of defences too long held taut. His mind, a fortress of rationale and boundaries, fell silent.

She sees me, for all I am, it whispered. And yet she stays.

He had not believed in unconditional love since the alleyway. But in that moment, with the stench of blood from his suit and the leaden weight of the city upon his back, he saw love for what it was — not a sanctuary, but a quiet understanding, and a choosing. And she had chosen him.

It terrified him. Because now he had yet another thing to lose, to protect, something that was not abstract. It had a name. A voice. A laugh. It sat in his home and softened his world.

He had never been the same since.

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

It crept up on him — not a wave, but rather a tide. Quiet and constant and utterly irreversible.

You had fallen asleep in his bed, still holding a game controller, your brow furrowed even in your unconsciousness. He watched you in the blue glow of the screen and thought, God, I’d die for her.

And then came the laugh — low, bitter, surprised. Because of course he would. He was always ready to die for someone.

But this felt different. This was not a compulsion, a sense of duty. It was not about legacy or guilt. It was about you. And the way your presence grounded the part of him that had always been just suspended above the world, half-grieving, half-trying.

He remembered kissing your forehead before leaving for patrol that night. Slow. Lingering. The kind of kiss that was not about want, but reverence.

That was when he knew.

Love was not a thrill. It was a weight. And he had never wanted anything to anchor him, to tether him to this sphere, more than you.

The realisation made him smile. And then it made him ache.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

Jason felt it like the first rays of sun upon his back after a piercing winter, it flooded his system, warm and compelling. It struck him all of a sudden — new, unfamiliar, and… unwelcome. He did not want it. He had not asked for it.

You were brushing your teeth, half-asleep, wearing one of his old shirts, humming a song under your breath as though nothing was wrong in the world, as though it were not in a state of disrepair just beyond the window. And while watching you, he could believe it for a moment too.

Jason stood in the doorway, paralysed. Because he had seen too much tragedy, too much carnage. He could hardly believe that a quiet instant of peace, like this, could even exist, let alone in his reality.

His first instinct was to run. Not literally — he could never leave you. But to emotionally retreat, to steel himself for the moment this fleeting softness was stolen from him.

But you looked at him. Just looked — toothpaste foam and all — with a kind of amused concern, and asked, ‘You okay?’

After everything he had been through. He was not sure he had ever been less okay.

He loved you. He loved you with a passion that made him feel unworthy, as if he had tainted something holy.

A voice in him protested — said it was weakness. Said this would end in catastrophe. But he ignored it, just this once. He stepped forward and kissed your temple.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just tired.’ But he was not. This was a lie. His mind was reeling.

He did not sleep that night. He lay awake memorising your breathing.

T I M⠀D R A K E

It was a question you asked that did it. Something ordinary, like, ‘Did you eat today?’

Tim wanted to laugh because it was such a cliché, wasn’t it? But clichés exist because they are true. No one ever asked him that, not like you had, not like it genuinely mattered. 

Then you brought him a coffee, one of those orders so tailored it was essentially an identity. You did not need to ask what he wanted. You simply knew.

He blinked down at the cup, then at you, and suddenly the task he was completing meant nothing.

He felt the world tilt. Quietly. Like the axis of his orbit had shifted. And it had.

Love, to Tim, had always been a puzzle he did not have time to solve. A thing for normal people, with normal lives, for people who lacked the responsibility he had garnered.

But there it was — simple, unassuming and irreversible.

He did not tell you. Not for a long time.

But he began cataloguing what made you smile. The way your face changed after a laugh, crinkled and carefree. He noticed the way your eyes sparkled just a little brighter when you spoke of things that made you passionate, and how the corners of your lips turned up when you were lost in a quiet thought.

This love became his sustenance, it was the first time in years he feared forgetting something.

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

It had infuriated him. The sheer idiocy of it.

Love was chemical, juvenile, a distraction. Or so he had been taught. So he had believed.

And yet there he stood — across from you in the garden, where you were speaking to a stray dog as if it were royalty, and something in his chest pulled.

At first, he mistook it for contempt — annoyance at your softness in a moment where he was attempting to be serious. But then you looked up, grinned, and said, ‘I think she likes me.’

And the words caught in his throat. Not because he did not believe them, but because he liked you. Against every grain of his upbringing.

He wanted to scold you, retreat, build walls. But instead, he asked the cat’s name.

That was the beginning. The fracture.

He loved you. In an old, mythic sense. In the way poets spoke of their love — fierce, unyielding, as though it could bend the very fabric of time. 

And that it did, time slowed every time you entered his concentration.

He began to dream of futures — a concept once as foreign to him as mercy.

He has not told you. But he will. In his own time. For now, he will continue to relish in it, and continue in this alluring descent. 

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He did not realise. Not at first. Because what he felt for you was too immense, too intrinsic, to label with as small as a word as love.

It was not until you fell asleep in his arms, mumbling about a stressful day, completely unaware of the god you were held by, that it hit him.

You did not see him as Superman. You saw him as Clark Kent. You simply saw him. The man. His hope. His grief.

And he realised then — you are his tether.

He thought of Krypton. Of its loss. Of the gaping emptiness it had left as soon as he had learnt of it. And for the first time in years, he did not feel hollow. He felt… full. He realised, that the planet could never have been home to him like she was. 

You snored softly. He laughed. Then cried.

Love, he realised, was not loud. It was simply your hand over his heart. It was your laughter in the next room. It was your body next to his.

He had not fallen in love. He had found it, unexpected and irrevocable, and for all the power he had been bestowed, this force had left him helpless to resist.

And now he guards it with everything he is. Because you are not just his world.

You are his home.

If you're interested, I've since posted a follow-up called 'When he admitted he loved you' linked, here. Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3