Damian Wayne is the kind of yandere whose possessiveness settles over you like a second skin, unyielding, absolute, and threaded through with a certainty that you belong at his side. To him, you are his rightful companion, someone who existed before him and could exist without him, yes, but should never have to. The mere thought of you navigating the world alone makes something cold and heavy plunge straight through his gut.
And yet, in all that fervent devotion, he cannot help but infantilize you. Itās instinct, bred into him, sharpened into muscle memory. Youāre softer than he is, weaker in ways he has been trained since birth to compensate for. Where others might see independence, Damian sees fragility; where others might respect your autonomy, he sees danger. Caring for you comes as naturally to him as breathing, but never as an equal, always as someone precious, delicate, incapable of defending yourself without the benefit of his guidance.
And why shouldnāt he take responsibility? He has the means. The kind of wealth that feels unreal until youāre smothered by it: a bedroom overflowing with silks that catch the light like spilled moonshine, pillows that swallow your body whole, furniture carved from woods older than anything youāve ever touched. Sometimes, he sits you down beneath the golden glow of lights worth more than entire apartments, and with gloved patience he lifts bite-sized pieces of food to your lipsāfood youāve stubbornly refused for days.
Damian Wayne was raised on a doctrine of tough love, rigid, merciless, but love all the same, at least by his definition. Itās the only model heās ever known, and so he follows it with unwavering precision. He holds you to rules carved from bone-deep habit and cold logic, rules he believes are necessary to keep you safe, to keep you his.
If he must press the food past your lips himself, then he will.
If he must pin you beneath him during the night to keep you from slipping away, he wonāt hesitate.
He may feel that strange, unsettling twist deep in his stomach when your eyes glaze with tears, may feel a flicker of guilt as your voice trembles beneath his touch, but the feeling dissipates quickly. It always does. Because after the crying stops, after the exhaustion sets in, you turn to him for comfort. You press into his hold. You cling. And every time you do, it carves the truth deeper into him: his strictness works. His methods are justified. His love is right.
And in the end, Damian Wayne always knows whatās best for you.
Priestess Shadowheart role-play was somehow not something Id considered. How narrow-minded and naive Ive been. Thank you other Anon for opening my eyes, thank you Moonmaiden for allowing me to see his vision.
Idk if I'm wrong about this but I am pretty sure you can get the drow twins to rp this with shaodwheart if you are romancing her and take her to them....
@t4tgempearl @quackery-binx @aroace-elgyem @ender-of-the-sender @pastriibunz @sillyvisioncorner @gremlynn-x @cubescop @sundewhasaudhd @sundryd @pipperoo @god-of-fandoms @inkwell-illustrations @eldritch-ace and all my other wonderful moots :3 hagd!! (no pressure to rb just want to show appreciation :3)
@onesingularbraincell @therandomtoad @multi-fandomdisaster @enjamin-the-benitor @thearcanecat @sykatz @antitheticaldreamgirl444 @paranormaltheatrekid @inkwell-illustrations (reblogged it from you, but still want to tag you)
@spineless-lobster @friedmagazinebouquet @roachcicle @coco6420 @deadbaguette @empireofmen @sloanslone @leynaeithnea @tiddiesoutwhenthetisout @masterofthewarcry @hypnosami @vint-knight @ditoob @weirdponytail (are these like most of my mutuals, yes. do i care? no)
@masterofthewarcry @nikoisme @thehelplessmortals @kebriones @dootznbootz @ditoob @lightningthunderstorm @cygniavenue @perroulisses @n0phis @achillesisnotcomingdown @limblesstar @justvea18 @jgjuniper @venomspecs @melodyartist-blog @ochiody @regkatouargou sry for summoning my mutual army but these are off the top of my head
Idk if I'm supposed to be tagging anyone who's blog I like or just people I personally know so sorry if you're being tagged by some random fucking guy rn I just think your blog is coolš
oh i remember twitter was being very weird for a while and something came up about replacing the tl with mainly posts from accounts with memberships? never understood the thing but i hated it so i left and came here
ooh fun >:D thanks for the tag!
I joined for three reasons
1) My sister was on tumblr and kept telling me to get on it.
2) I started watching a lot of PM Seymour type videos and thought it would be fun
3) the Am i the asshole tumblr blog (i used to go on my sisters account to rea the stories there, now I dont do it as often but I do sometimes)
tags! @ghostly-schematics @ctommy-antigone @productofaritual
@iforgotwhaticalledthis @go0dvib3s and anyone who wants to!
P.M seymours videos, + i was scrolling through pinterest a lot and it was just filled with tumblr posts, so i just went "why not get it from the source"
tags: @arsonashes @thepersonwithoutaname @lolgamer2309 @nyxofbees and anyone else who wants to join!! if you dont want to be tagged lmk
i originally came here for the umbrabyte fandom! i didnāt plan to be very active on tumblr, but then i decided to participate in the alterhuman community. now i have folks to talk to other than other umbrabyte fans lmao. our fandom is /tiny/, but we still love it!
So my original channel was when I was around 13 and was in my hardcore anime fan phase and Tumblr had some of the best fanarts and fics at the time. Plus the community was great even if all I really did was lurk because shy teen.
This Tumblr was created a few years back though because I switched computers and completely forgot my password and couldn't get back in because I also had changed emails in that time. Whoops lol~
Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.
Warnings: angsty (very minimal), injury(very minimal), john not knowing how to handle certain situation.
part 1 - part 2 - part 3!! - part 4
-----------
That's when it started, the weird energy that set the scene for every interaction between the two of you. He couldn't help but start to see this so-called ātensionā gaz had mentioned fulfill its way into your lives. Not only was it your beauty, it was the domesticity that settled in your relationship. You need that lightbulb in your room replaced, you politely knocked on his door, car troubles? Yeah John should know how to do that. But what scared him the most wasn't the attraction he felt towards you, it was your lack thereof. He never seemed to catch you sparing him any extra glances than were necessary. Unlike him he couldn't help but catch his greedy eyes secretly soaking in every inch of you when given the opportunity.Ā
But he couldn't be further than wrongĀ
Because at the opposite end of your home your mind seems to be obsessed with the thought of john. What a man he was. He mustāve been getting some back on base and you couldn't even be jealous, aroused though definitely. He's actually all 6 foot something of fine, absolutely climbable. But god does that man often look like he wants not a thing to do with you. Especially most recently you rarely even see him and when you do he barely speaks or spares you a glance.
ā-----------------
āHey, haven't seen you in awhile.ā you surprise him extremely early in the kitchen one morning.
āOh um good morning, Iām fine just been a bit busy. Why are you up so early?ā He lies then quickly changes the topic knowing being awake during these hours of the morningĀ isnāt your forte.
āScheduled a client for 6AM instead of 6PM and it's too late to cancel.'' He hums in response, willing himself to say something more but his mind comes up blank as it often does in your presence.Ā
So he leaves without a word and nothing in hand he just leaves. And you stand there absolutely thrown through the loop at the moment that you two just shared.Ā
ā--------------
āWe were doing great as roommates. You know I was comfortable and he seemed comfortable but now I swear that man avoids me like the plague.ā you say to the longtime client in your chair.
āMaybe heās just not social.ā She chimes in, you concentrate while trying to part her hair before replying.
āI could see that being the case if he hadnāt been so social the previous two weeks you know, weāve made meals in the kitchen together, watched television in the living room so I donāt understand what changed.ā you say applying product to the sectioned hair.
āWhat if he doesnāt like you?ā your hands pause for a second as you ponder the thought.
āWell I guess he doesnāt have to like me to live with me.ā you say with very visibly discontent.
āBut you on the other hand strive when people like you.ā she replies, reading right through you.
āWell yeah I think anybody would.ā you shrug.
āNot a military man whoās probably widely hated.ā She's always right and you hate it.
āWhat's not to like about me?ā you genuinely couldn't come up with an answer yourself.
āAre you a messy roommate or do you bother him a lot or do you nag him for his mess?ā You canāt think of doing any of those but maybe asking for his help from time to time.
āI might be bothering him but nothing I would consider too much , just some help from time to time.ā she laughs from her seat and you unenthusiastically spin the chair she's in to face you.
āWas it in the contract that he'd have to help you from ātime to timeā.'' You give her a quizzical look and she just continues.
āMen like to do the bare minimum and that's it. They hate being bothered. Take it from me. I'm married with three sons and they're all the same. Oh they have to do the dishes, sure, but will they dry them, or put them away? No, because that's not what I asked.ā you hum understanding her point but still finding it hard to see john really feeling that way.
āSo then I shouldn't ask him for anything and maybe he'll come around?ā you ask in an unsure tone.
āyup.ā she replies blunt, fast and very sure of herself.
ā-----------
So you listened, this whole week you've not asked John for a thing which was pretty easy up until now. Your luck never fails to run out at the worst times. A flat tire in the middle of the road on your way home. You pull off to the side contemplating what to do as the sun is beginning to set and there's really only two options.
One, call John and ruin your streak of leaving him be. Two, call the car service company and pay their ridiculous prices to change the tire out. Of course you go with option two cause calling john seems to make you more nervous.
It takes 3 hours for the mechanic to get to where you are, change the tire, and point out other imperfections about your car that you pay no mind to. When you finally make it home youāre bothered, exhausted and broke.
John doesn't miss the unusualness of your late arrival but also doesn't question it, even though he wants to. Your groans of frustration echo through the hallway and he immediately can tell it was a bad day.
You change out of your work clothes and go into the kitchen for a snack as you do your daily phone call to your sister to tell her about the events of your day. John creeks his office door open to hear a little better but nothing noticeable.Ā
āHe charged me six hundred dollars, I mean how is that even legal?ā You complain into the phone thatās balanced between your neck and shoulder.Ā
āIt was just my tire that was flat, nothing else.ā you follow up while chewing on an apple. You swear you could cry by repeating that monstrosity.
John can't help but feel a bit confused and upset that you hadn't just called him instead of calling whatever dick that charged you that much for something so simple. Changing a tire is an easy 30 minutes that he definitely had on his hands especially for you. You had not hesitated asking for help before so what's changed now?
ā-------------
āOkay, unscrew the old bulb and screw in the new bulb, very simple.ā you reassure yourself as you stand on top of the tall ladder to replace the porch light. Itās icy outside and cold sweeps under your layers of clothes making your normally shaky hands shakier.
āOkay okay- damn it.ā You drop the bulb that burnt out onto the floor watching the glass scatter.
You screw the new one in and step down, closing the latter with frustrated groan, then going to pick up the bigger shards to toss out before sweeping. You shouldāve known that bulb glass was insanely thin and sharp but sometimes your brain leaves out the important stuff.
āOw, fuck fuck fuck.ā You cry out at the shard of glass that forms a long clean cut on your palm. You cry as you run into your home holding the cut tightly. Finding the sink you turn the water on and rinse it clean. Your ears donāt comprehend the loud footsteps that make their way towards the kitchen.
āWhat happened?ā A deep voice sighs out behind you.
āNothing.ā Your hiccups escape involuntarily as it continues to bleed dramatically. You squeeze your eyes shut as it begins to burn more and more.
āLet me see.ā He tries to grab at your hand genuinely concerned.
āIām fine, itās just a cut.ā You resist him by keeping your hand under the water.
āCut from what?ā he's a bit frustrated at your refusal of letting his trained mind and hands help.
āI was changing the light bulb outside and one broke.ā you admit quietly.
āWhy didnāt you ask me to do it?ā once again what is with you no longer asking him for his very available help.
āCause I can handle myself John.ā Youāre irritated at the obvious evidence that you cannot. Your non wounded hand rips a paper towel from the roll and you hold it to the cut to go bandage it in your room.Ā
You leave John standing in the kitchen and donāt even look back as you make your way to your room. He stays in that same spot for a second wondering where your random change in attitude is coming from but in the end he comes up blank and goes out to the porch to clean the rest of the glass up.
ā----------
You feel terribly guilty when you wake up the next morning to see the porch swept clean and ladder put away from the previous night. You toughen up and put your big girl pants on to go apologize. You knock on his bedroom door and hear ruffling on the other side before he answers.
āhey john i'm really sorry for-ā you stop noticing him dressed from head to toe in his military attire and damn.
āFor what?ā He takes notice of your pause and one up.
āFor um the way I acted last night I know you were only trying to help and um why are you dressed like that?ā You canāt help but question it.
āI have to go on base for a little bit, maybe a day or two. It shouldn't be too long but who knows, let me grab my check for you.ā He walks back into his awfully clean room and grabs something out of a drawer and hands you a white envelope that consists of his monthly rent.
āOh okay.ā You canāt even hide the blush that laces between your features and although he notices it he canāt pinpoint the reasoning.
āAlso donāt be sorry we all have our days and I shouldnāt have overstepped.ā You nod in response not really knowing what to say.Ā
āOkay bye then I guess.ā You awkwardly wave at him even though you stand mere inches away from his tall frame.Ā
āBye doll.ā He says before you walk away entirely thrown over whatever conversation that was.
Pairing - Jason Todd X (F) Reader
Words - 1.7k
Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Oral Sex (F!Receiving) - Jason Todd would absolutely kiss your pussy before eating you out - Heās a cocky son-of-a-bitch too - Swearing.
Notes - hhHHhhh I couldnāt help myself. Jason would be so good at oral, I just know it.
MASTERLIST
**
Thereās adrenaline and courage and a burning question in the back of your throat.
The question you want to ask doesnāt come easy. It sticks and bruises at the inside of your mouth, splinters like glass and punctures you straight through the tongue. You think you have one hand locked tight around your own throat to keep you from opening your mouth.
It feels disloyal, maybe even dirty that you want to ask, want to put the words out into the judgemental face of the world. Part of you is prepared to weld your mouth shut, prepared to twist the question into something less revealing, less shameful.
But you need to know.
If you donāt ask now, you worry that youāll never gain the courage to do it again.
āJay.ā You say, and try to ignore the heat rushing up your neck. āWould you enjoy giving your partner oral?ā
warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part
You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then youād have to go back out to the main room and manā¦you really do not want to do that. So youāll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.
The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. Youāre not immediately sure how to act as though itās normal that youāre sitting in the stairwell outside the gala rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesnāt look like youāre alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.
Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.
Should you stand up?Ā
No, heās rich, not royalty.Ā
You are in his house thoughā
He looks you over contemplatively, āI donāt know you,ā Itās not accusatory, rather he says it like itās something interesting.
You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. āOh, uh, noāā the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, āIām just a plus one for my bossāā
āWhoās your boss?ā he asks, relaxed.Ā
āArthur Mullins.ā
He looks to the side, squinting, āMullinsā¦heās the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?ā
You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like heās processing through something. āIām Bruce,ā he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.
You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, āIāyeah, I know,ā you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.
Thereās a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. āA pretty name.ā
āOh, itās justā¦ā Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.
He smiles kindly anyway, āWhat are you doing in here? Partyās out there, or so they tell me.ā
āIā¦Iām hiding in here,ā you admit sheepishly.
He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. āIāll let you in on a secretāso am I,ā he smiles at you like itās easy.
Your grin matches his, āItās your party,ā
āThatās why I need to hide.ā He tilts his head, āDoesnāt give you much of an excuse though, does it?ā
āI donāt know anybody here.ā
He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, āYour boss.ā
You shake your head, āIām just his assistant. Iām pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.ā
He laughs at that, āBased on the way Iāve seen Mullinsā attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.ā
Well, heās certainly right about that. Your boss doesnāt exactly āhave it togetherā per se. Heās an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, heās a bit of a try-hard and youāre constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say heās necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. Itās honestly a bit exhausting to watch. Itās more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.
You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. āMr. Mullins hasā¦a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, Iāll give you that.ā You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. āBut that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I donāt know anyone, so..ā
āWell then it sounds like youāve got it all worked out,ā he ribs, āOr donāt you agree?ā
You smile coyly, āI would never be so bold.ā
āI donāt mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.ā
You laugh at that, āMr. Wayneāā
āBruce.ā
āMr. Wayne,ā you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. āI think heās just networking.ā He doesnāt have the money to give.
He nods surely, āHeās definitely just networking.ā He really doesnāt have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.
You check the time and realize that youāve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasnāt already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, āI should..ā
He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. āSo should I.ā
You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown youāre wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and youāre sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.
If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.
He follows after you, hands behind his back. āWould it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?ā
Itās busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.
You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far youāve only managed to find a couple shops that werenāt several ranges above your budget.Ā
A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if youāre lost. It doesnāt take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and itās only half a second longer before you realize heās walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.
You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, āIs there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?ā The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.
He sways a bit, āBruce. Iām not sure yet,ā he looks down to the couple of bags youāre holding, extending his hand out. āMay I?ā
It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. āAre you in a rush?ā
You shake your head quicker than you meant to, āNo, Iānot at all,ā he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.
You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, āWhat exactly is it youāre not sure about?ā
He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, āWhether or not youāve got plans on the 19th.ā
You look back at him, āWhatās on the 19th?ā
He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, āWeāre hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.ā
You blink, āYouāre inviting me?ā He nods. āWhy?ā
āI could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.ā
He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, āThatās notāā you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.
You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. āI donāt think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that Iām attending a business gala without him.ā
He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, āHe canāt fire you for that.ā
āHeāll try.ā He would. A petty little man, he is.Ā
He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. āWell, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldnāt be for business.ā And then he just lets that sentence linger.
It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, āWhat do you think?ā
You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, āI donātā¦uh, I donāt really haveā¦ā you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.
He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, āWell then Iād say weāre in the right place.ā
You canāt manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.
Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways.Ā
The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.
You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty.Ā
āThis way.ā You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, āYou donāt seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.ā
Thankfully, he laughs at that. āWell, special occasions.ā
You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, āIs this a special occasion?ā
He hums in consideration, āIād say so.ā
You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options.Ā
āWhat are you doing up here anyways?ā you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.
āAh, I was headed to a meeting.ā
āOh,ā you frown, looking at him. āDonāt you need to go?ā
He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, āNo.ā
A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that youāre in their path.Ā
Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. āSweetheart,ā he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though youāre quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldnāt have been the worst thing in the world.
As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.
Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something youād see a model wearing on a runway. āYou like that one?ā
āItās nice, yeah,ā you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. āItās $800.ā
He nods thoughtfully, āWe can find a nicer one,ā he says, though itās clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.
āI canātāā you restart, āI would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.ā
He shakes his head coolly, āThatās alright.ā
Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, āItās not, though.ā
āYou like it?ā He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.
āI mean, of course, but itāā
He nods affirmatively, āThen weāll get it. Problem solved.ā He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. āPick your size.ā
Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit.Ā
You sigh, realizing that youāre running out of time to mention that you donāt have $800 to spend on a dress. āI canātāā
āYou donāt need to,ā he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.
You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, āIt really is okay, I donāt needāā
His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, āSweet girl..ā to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that heās not looking at you right now because youāre certain the look on your face would give you away.
He still doesnāt face you as he calls out, āCome on,ā as he continues on.
Obviously youāre not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesnāt even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dressā¦no, youāre not sleeping with him because he bought you a dressāof course notāand youāve made absolutely no promises to do so, so whatās the harm in letting him? Really?
And yeah, maybe itās a plus that heās not bad looking, but how is that your fault?
You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.
As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.
āYou will be there?ā he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for.Ā
You nod, gesturing the bag up, āWell you just bought me the dress.ā
He shrugs that off, āI wouldāve bought you the dress anyways.ā
You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesnāt stop you from considering it, though.
A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldnāt quite verbalize, youād naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk.Ā
āHello there, Miss.,ā The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.
āHello,ā you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room.Ā
This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. āHaving a nice time?āĀ
The man is clearly from money, if his attire didnāt give it away his attitude sure did. Thereās an heir of entitlement around him, like heās inherently deservant of your attentionāa quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce.Ā
You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.
āCan I buy you a drink?ā He asks, gesturing to the bar.
āIām okay, thank you,ā you say, gesturing your wine glass up.
A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, thatās not really saying much. āWell, pretty little thing like you shouldnāt be all alone here,ā
āIām afraid youāre mistaken,ā Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than youād previously received.Ā
Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, āMr. Wayne,ā he fawns, āWhat a lovely event youāve thrown. Iām sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.ā
Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. āYou areā¦ā
The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, āAlexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.ā
He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. āAh. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating computers.ā
Youāre trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.
āWhat exactly is a self-operating computer?ā
Watsonās face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposalās funding. As he rambles, Bruceās gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though heās not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You donāt know him well but you can say confidently that he doesnāt look pleased.Ā
He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. āSurely youāre not poking around where youāre unwelcome?ā
Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. āNo, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. Thatās all.ā
āAnd so you have.ā
āIā,ā about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, āYes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.ā He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.
āMr. Wayne,ā you smile knowingly, turning to him. āHow are you?ā
The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress youād picked out.
āThings are looking up,ā he smiles, āYou look lovely.ā
Ā āThank you,ā you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. āMr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.ā
His smile turns a bit sullen, āYou know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?ā
You blink, tilting your head, āThought you didnāt know who he was.ā
His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing heās been caught but not really caring. āIām sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.ā
āAt the gala that you threw? Iād imagine so.ā
He rolls past that smoothly, āYouāre having a good time?ā
āI am,ā you say with a confirming head bob.
He regards the room with a numb expression, āYou know, I think Iām getting bored with all of this.ā
You smile at him, brow furrowed, āItās only been an hour.ā
He looks at you, eyes wide. āItās only been an hour?ā Heās exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.
āI think we should go,ā he says lower.
You stare at him, bemused. āYou still have a whole room full of guests.āĀ
He shrugs, āTheyāll filter out on their own eventually.āĀ
He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. āWhat, youāre not ready to leave?ā
You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, āAlright, yeah. Letās go.ā
He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor thatās significantly longer than youād expected.Ā
āDo you always ditch your parties this early?ā you ask, following closely.
He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, āIf I can manage it.ā
You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. āArenāt some of them friends of yours?ā
He shakes his head, āMy friends arenāt here.ā
You frown at that, āThen why do you throw them at all?ā
āWhy did you show up last weekend?ā
You nod slowly, understanding. āItās your job.ā
He returns the nod, adding, āOnly difference is, thereās not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.ā
For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, youāre going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.
āWell, moneyās money,ā you say wryly.
His smile fades a bit, āYou shouldnāt have to worry about things like that.āĀ
You shrug, āA day in the life,ā
He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than youād have expected from someone of his stature. Heās done nothing if not surprise you, though.
āHere,ā he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress youād chosen is so long.
Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.
It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you wouldāve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.
He doesnāt look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didnāt happen. āWas hoping it was warmer,ā he murmurs.
Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.
You start to say something, though youāre not sure what it wouldāve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.
Well, he certainly knows what heās doing, doesnāt he?
His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, āYouāre a pretty girl, you know that?āĀ
God, heās a professional.
You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.
He doesnāt.
You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. āYou canāt just do thisāā
He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, āThen what can I do for you?ā
āYouāā you blink rapidly, āStop it.ā
His coy beam persists, āStop what?ā
You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that youāre trying to sell as serious. āYouāre trying to make me nervous.ā
āDo I make you nervous?ā He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, āI donāt mean to, sweet girl.ā
Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. āYeah.ā
His simper grows, āIām serious. Iād hate to scare away a new friend.ā
You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, āWhat? Weāre not friends?ā
You cock your head to the side, āYouāre the one who said none of your friends are here.ā
He hums, āMaybe I spoke too soon.ā
āYou think so?ā You should probably stop flirting so much.Ā
āYeah,ā he leans in a bit closer, āI do.ā
āWhyās that?ā
āMaybe I want to be your friend,ā his hand finds a place atop yours.Ā
Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, āWhat if I donāt want to be yours?ā
His eyes are on your lips, āIām sure we can work something out.ā
You take a slow deep breath, āYour intentions are blurry.ā
He smiles lightly, amused. āWeāll have to clear that up then, wonāt we?ā His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, āIām going to kiss you now, okay?ā
You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms.Ā
He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when itās over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.
He hums lowly, āSweet thing..ā
Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. Itās starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.
āYouā¦ā you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence.Ā
āWhat?ā he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, āNo, itās alright. What is it?ā he asks gently.
It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, āYou just want to sleep with me..ā
He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. āNo. Iāmā¦ā he sighs, āIām not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.ā
That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you werenāt prepared for.Ā
He continues, āI would like to, yes. Yeah. Youāre beautiful, of course I would, but..ā he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, āNo, thatās not the most important thing to me.ā
You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If thatās not the most important thing to him, what is? You canāt think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex.Ā
Right?
He exhales, āIf you want to leave, Iāll call you a car. No hard feelings.ā He nudges your chin up gently so youāll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.
You let him move you.
āI donāt want to leave,ā you tell him, looking into his eyes. āWhat do you want?ā
āWhatever you want,ā he says it like itās automatic. You physically canāt help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, āSeriously. Anything.ā
You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.
āAlright,ā he returns your smile, straightening, āHereās what weāre going to do. Do you need a ride home?ā
You blink at him, āIām going home?ā
āYou are,ā he nods softly, āDo you need a ride?ā
āNo.ā
He nods again, more like heās working through something in his head. āOkay. Youāre going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.ā he stands up, extending his hand out to you, āThen you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.ā
You start to shake your head, āI canāāĀ
He drops his chin seriously, āThink on it.ā
You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.
āAlright?ā Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if youāre on board with this plan.Ā
Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, āOkay.ā
He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.
It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.
Youād considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.
Youāll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.
Heās not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, youāre able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but thereās a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. Thereās portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but thereās still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, itās very, very placid.
Youāve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You donāt really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. Theyāre usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and youāre not sure where to begin with placing new ones.
Youāre about halfway through a second game, and while youāre not awful at chess, you get the impression that heās easing up on you considerably.
You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.
āI think this is stressing me,ā you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.
āItās just chess,ā he says, not looking up from the board.
You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, āAnd thatās all weāre doing?ā
āAs it stands, yes,ā he looks up at you, though you donāt return his gaze.
āYeah,ā you sigh, sliding your rook, āBut later?ā
āLater?ā
āWell, you said...ā you meet his eyes, āYou said you wanted to sleep with me.ā
He nods slowly, āI do. Is that alright?ā
You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really werenāt okay with it you wouldnāt have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.
āYes,ā you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.
āAre you sure?ā he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.
You do the same, sitting on your knees. āYeah, I just..ā you shift your weight, eyes wandering. āIām notā¦overly experienced.ā
He just smiles at that, like itās endearing. Your words didnāt quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. āThatās alright, sweetheart. Iām not going to throw you in the deep end.ā
You nod, looking down again.
āYouāre nervous,ā he comments.
āNo, IāmāI mean, maybe,ā your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.
Heās quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. āWhat if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.ā
He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that itās at least a couple hundred dollars.
You shake your head instantly, āI canāt take that.ā
He doesnāt put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. āPlease. I just want you to feel good.ā
āBruceāā
He wavers a bit at that but itās more of a falter than youāve seen from him before so itās easy to take notice of. āWhat?ā
He shrugs barely, āI like when you say my name.ā
Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to waver almost instantly.
You exhale, āIām not taking more than a hundred.ā
āTwo hundred.ā
āBruce.ā
He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You donāt comment on the fact that itās a hundred and fifty more than youād agreed on.
You look down at the money in your hand like itās a foreign object, shaking your head. āI donāt even know what to get.ā
His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, āAnything you want,ā he tells you. āWhat do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.ā
You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. āIt doesnāt matter what I like, thāā
āIt only matters what you like,ā He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. āIāll love it, no matter what you pick. Donāt worry about that.ā
You lean forward a bit instinctually, āOkay.ā
His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.
āWhy are you looking at me like that?ā you whisper.
āI want to kiss you again,ā he says, voice even quieter.
Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.
He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than youād gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.
You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.
āEasy, sweet girl,ā he smiles, nudging you back with little force.
You groan, āWhy?ā
He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. āIām not fucking you for the first time on the floor.ā
āThen let's go somewhere else,ā you nod up towards the stairs.
He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. āNot tonight.ā
You sit back on your heels again, frowning.
He brushes your hair back, murmuring, āNo. But for now, I'll kiss you ātil you canāt think if thatās what you want.ā
You really hope you didnāt perk up at that as much as you think you did.
š¾š½ i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know š¾š½
I reblogged her late last year and my 2024 has been very satisfying work-wise and (secure enough to not stress out) money-wise so far. Money Snake is wise and good.
Fuck Iām at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and Iām probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterdayās night ājust for fun and because I donāt want any bagel to be mad with meā, and todayās afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
Oh God I hope this is not a hoax. EDIT: Fucking weird!! An hour after I did this I got a response back on some work Iād quoted on but never thought would happen. And the guy apologised for not replying sooner!! Fuck the bagel worked :-)
Edit: Weāre talking again!! We donāt really talk a lot cause of our (strict as all hell)parents and hiding the relationship from them, so I was really happy I got to talk with him againš
