Gotham’s Self Indulgence

Batfamily fics that terrorize the DC universe 22 18+ Blog

[batshadows]

Gotham City Limits

She/her | 22 | Psychology Major | Lesbian | 18+ Blog | Tim Drake Apologist

🌆 Laws: Rules

🌇 Navigation: Masterlist | AO3 | Other Account

Asks and dabbles will be under #gothamnews

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Life doesn’t give us purpose, we give life purpose!”

[batshadows]

I’m peacefully enjoying my time reading Young Justice 1998 comic run, then suddenly I’m reminded about Infinity Crisis.

[batshadows]

Jason Todd so listens to divorced dad music. You can’t tell me he’s not making you and everyone else listen to Rockstar by Nickleback

[batshadows]

Okay i was low key dying cause my bipolar depression was really hitting, but I’m doing better now and ready to continue writing Every Witch Way

[batshadows]

I’m coming out as a TimBern fan

[batshadows]

Okay I’m struggling on which fic to do next. I have so many ideas, so im going to let Tumblr decide for me. Yes, I am for some reason going through a best friend’s shtick.

Best Friend’s Sister — As a member of the Outlaws and brother of Jason, you and Roy’s relationship shouldn’t be as secretly explicit as it is.

Kissing Your Best Friend: Dick Grayson Version — self explanatory

Kissing Your Best Friend: Jason Todd Version — self explanatory again

Every Witch Way — Being the new team member of Young Justice was rocky. It was hard to find footing with a team that already had history as lengthy as divination’s. When the team wanted their tarot reading from you for fun, you couldn’t say no. You need to find your place, even if it means draining yourself in the process. Tim takes notice.

Which one?

Best Friends Sister

Kissing Your Best Friend: Dick Grayson

Kissing Your Best Friend: Jason Todd

Every Witch Way

Voting ended onFeb 27

[batshadows]

What the last anon said about- chase atlantic!!! I agree with my whole horny heart! Church, next time?

Church is such a good idea! Already has my head swimming with ideas. Thank you, anon!

[batshadows]

Since I’m new to DC, I wanna know what everyone’s concept on characters are. Rather that’s character analysis, headcanons, imagines, whatever. Send them in! I like knowing what people think.

[batshadows]

Bestie...stay on that chase Atlantic shit if it keeps producing results

LMAO I didn’t know Chase Atlantic would lead to my magnum opus

[thevellichorsoul]

⋆𐙚 ̊ Jason Todd loves eating you out ╰wc: 1.3k

The air in Jason’s apartment is thick with the familiar, comforting scent of old paper, gun oil, and the faint, clean leather of his jacket slung over the back of a chair. But tonight, that familiar scent is laced with something else—the sharp, electric tang of anticipation, the warm, musky promise of his skin. You’re standing before him, his hands on your hips, his gaze a physical weight as he looks up at you from where he’s sprawled on the worn-out couch.

“C’mere,” he rasps, his voice a low gravelly hum that vibrates through you. He doesn’t wait for you to comply, his hands tightening on your hips as he guides you forward, manoeuvring you until you’re standing over him, one foot on the couch cushion on either side of his head. The position is dominant, almost clinical, but the look in his eyes is anything but. It’s dark and hungry, a primal fire that promises to consume you whole.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending shivers racing up your spine. “Sit.”

You lower yourself slowly, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the first hot puff of his breath against your slick, waiting folds. You’re already soaked; you have been since he gave you that look across the room, the one that promised you’d be screaming his name before the night was through. You settle your weight on him, your knees sinking into the worn cushions, and the first contact is electric. It’s a soft, wet brush of his lips against your clit, and a jolt of pure pleasure shoots through you, so intense it makes you gasp.

He groans, the sound a deep, guttural noise of pure appreciation that’s muffled by your flesh. He’s not teasing, not anymore. He’s devouring you. His tongue is a masterful instrument, a broad, flat stroke that goes from your weeping entrance all the way up to your pulsing clit, collecting your arousal like a connoisseur. He’s tasting you, learning you, memorising the very essence of you.

Your hands fly out, gripping the back of the couch for support as your legs begin to tremble. The sight is obscene in the best possible way. You look down and see his dark head, the messy black strands of his hair tickling your inner thighs. You see the way his jaw works as he eats you out with a focused, almost desperate hunger, like a man who’s been starved for far too long and has just been presented with a feast.

His hands slide up from your thighs to grip your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling you down, grinding you against his mouth. He’s taking control now, setting the pace. He shifts, angling his head, and then his tongue is delving into your entrance, fucking you with it in slow, deliberate thrusts that mimic the act itself. You can hear the wet, lewd sounds of his mouth on you, the sounds of your own slickness, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard.

“Jason… oh fuck, Jason! ", you whimper, your hips starting to move in a slow, rocking rhythm, instinctively riding his face. You can’t help it. The pleasure is too good, too overwhelming.

He hums in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pure ecstasy straight to your clit. He pulls back for a moment, just long enough to speak. “That’s it,” he grunts, his voice thick and husky. “Ride my face. Use me.” His words are a lit match to gasoline. They’re filthy, degrading in the most glorious way, and they unleash something primal inside you.

He shifts one of his hands, bringing it around to your front. His fingers find your clit, and he starts to rub it in tight, fast circles, in perfect time with the movements of his tongue. The dual stimulation is a sensory overload. Your thighs start to shake uncontrollably, your movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. You’re no longer in control; you’re just a vessel for the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice muffled but laced with an undeniable authority. You force your heavy eyelids open, looking down the length of your body at him. His face is buried between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours, and the sight is so incredibly hot, so intensely intimate, it makes your pussy clench hard. You see the raw, unadulterated hunger in his gaze, the sheer joy he takes in your pleasure. He’s not just doing this for you; he’s doing this for him, too.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he groans, his words slurred. “All spread out for me. So fucking wet.”

He redoubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in a relentless, perfect harmony. He’s pushing you, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. The coil of pleasure in your stomach is tightening, a hot, heavy weight that’s about to snap. You can feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave of sensation that’s about to crash over you.

“Don’t stop, ngh,” you gasp, your voice a breathy plea. “Please, Jason, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers continue their merciless assault. That’s all it takes. The orgasm tears through you, violent and all-consuming. Your back arches, your head thrown back, a silent scream caught in your throat as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy washes over you. Your body convulses, your thighs clamping around his head as you grind against his face, riding out the intense pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping up your juices, prolonging your orgasm until you’re a boneless, trembling mess above him, completely and utterly spent. You collapse forward, your forehead resting against the cool leather of the couch back, your body limp and pliant.

He gently eases you off of him, his hands supporting your hips as you settle back onto his chest. You’re breathing heavily, your heart hammering against your ribs. He’s grinning, a smug, triumphant look on his face, his chin and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks proud, like he’s just conquered a small country.

He leans up and captures your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a filthy, intimate taste, a heady combination of you and him, and you moan into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against your lips, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your ass, pulling you closer. “But I think you can give me more.”

Your eyes fly open, and you see the wicked glint in his. He’s not done with you. Not by a long shot.

“Again”, he commands, his voice a low, dominant rumble. “This time, I want you to fuck my face. "Hard."

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You straddle him again, this time with a newfound confidence, a newfound hunger. You lower yourself onto his waiting mouth, and this time, you don’t hesitate. You take what you want, grinding down against his tongue, riding his face with a wild abandon. He meets you thrust for thrust, his mouth and tongue working in a frenzied rhythm. The second orgasm builds faster, a sharp, intense peak that has you crying out his name, your body shaking with the force of it.

You collapse against him, completely and utterly spent. He holds you, his arms wrapped around you, his body a warm, solid presence. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, a steady, reassuring rhythm.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely fucking amazing.”

You close your eyes, a contented sigh escaping your lips. But just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, you feel him shift. You open your eyes to find him looking at you, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Rest up,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Because we’re not done yet. Not even close.”

𑣲 likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are always appreciated and really motivate me

[batshadows]

Meddling About

They eat you out. That’s it, that’s the synopsis. Listened to the Chase Atlantic song on repeat for this.

Featuring: Connor Kent | Jason Todd | Dick Grayson | Koriand’r | Tim Drake

Tags: AFAB reader, praise, spanking, slight dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, edging, fingering, bondage

Masterlist | Ao3

Connor Kent

Kon El who knows how to use his Kryptonian genetics to drive you crazy. His grip on your hips is just strong enough to keep you still under his relentless tongue. He hasn’t stopped in what feels like hours, his endless stamina making it effortless to properly worship you. His tongue flicks over your swollen clit, equal parts selfish and giving. Each precise flick of his tongue over your slick folds sends your head spinning, making that smart head of yours go dumb.

He lets off you with an obscene pop, his boyish grin taking in your blissed out face — eyes screwed shut, parted lips, and heated skin that glimmers in the dim lighting of the bedroom from sweat. He places a chaste kiss on your thigh, a walking contradiction to the lewd mess between your legs. His finger ghosts up between your folds, eliciting a placid whine from your lips.

“Look at me,” He whispers, low and coaxing as he rests his head on your thigh. You manage to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss just enough to obey him. Your eyes crack open, casting down upon the playful glint cast on your boyfriend’s face. His head tilts as his grin widens. “There we go. Good job.” He praised, slipping his fingers into your eagerly awaiting hole as a reward.

Jason Todd

Jason Todd who, despite his rigid nature, is gentle and paired with an undercurrent of subtle control. It pulls you under, washing over you in vigorous heat. Heat that was currently burning every nerve ending in your body, swallowing you whole till all you could do was choke out moans and whimpers of his name. His grip on your quivering thighs was tight, keeping you spread open as he pushed his tongue deep inside your aching hole.

“You’re a fucking mess,” He moaned out, his own eyes hazy from the sweet taste of you. He couldn’t get enough, addicted to every sound and cry you make. You feel his hands dig into the plush fat of your thighs. He somehow manages to push your legs wider, dive deeper, bury himself in the scent and taste of you. A soft gasp slips past your parted lips as he pulls you down more onto his awaiting mouth. His tongue swirled your clit — featherlight in a way that makes pleasure pool in your gut. Your hands tangle itself into the mattress despite the strong urge to tug on his hair. Last time you did that, his fiery blueish green eyes glared at you. It sent a shiver up your spine, one that originated both from indulgent satisfaction and slight fear.

Your hips buck up into his mouth. You can feel the bubbling current underneath the thrumming of your heated skin.

“Jason, Jay, please, please.” You babble out, too high off him and he too drunk off you. You can feel him smile against your sopping wet heat. He wraps his lips around your clit, swiping his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You grind your hips into his awaiting mouth as your vision flashes white. He lets you ride his face, a soft whimper being muffled by your cunt.

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson who knows how to balance sincerity with roughness. His grip on your ass guides your grinding movements against his mouth. Your hands clutch onto the headboard, a chorus of moans slipping past your flushed lips. He’s kept you pinned against his mouth since you two came back from the Wayne charity event hours ago. The atmosphere feels thick from the tension that built up between the two of you throughout the night — the teasing touches, exposing outfit, sly words — now you’re paying the price for it.

He builds you up before tearing you down. Over and over till your head is dancing with thoughts of him. You’re sitting on his face but you have no autonomy. His hands are firm, leaving behind an indent where they rest on the globes of your ass. Back and forth he moves you with a precision that makes your pulse quicken. Your legs feel numb, shaking around his head with the effort it takes not to outright suffocate him. Another wave of orgasm crashes into you. You jerk forward, the white burning hot pleasure making you dizzy, roiled by his tongue.

“Dick,” You gasp out, hand tangling itself into his soft black locks. “I said I’m sorry.” It’s all but a whimper, a desperate plea for him to grant mercy. You feel him smirk against your soaked pussy, tongue dragging across your fluttering hole.

“I told you to be careful, babe.” His hand smacks your ass, the stinging pain melting into heady pleasure. He sucks on your overtly sensitive clit and you whine a cry. You buck your hips and lift them, anything to get yourself a breather from his relentless tongue. He hums, deep and condescending as he pulls you back down on his face to coax another mind-numbing orgasm out of you.

Koriand’r

Koriand’r who is the biggest tease of them all. The way her tongue lay flat against your sopping wet heat made you swear you somehow saw Tamaran. Her hand pressed down on your stomach as she took long, slow strokes of her tongue over your swollen clit. She wants you to feel every ounce of pleasure she can give, to bring you to the edge right before pulling away with that teasing glint in her striking green eyes. You tried to roll your hips up into her, you really did. You tried to do anything that would get her to add just a little bit more pressure.

Her sharp eyes narrow to points. Her other hand brushes over your side, following the curves of your body. Her honeyed tongue delves into your soaked heat as a sharp smack against your ass.

“What did I say about being still?” She asked almost mockingly, lips brushing against your clit. It sends a tingle down your legs, tears pricking at your eyes. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to cum. Every light movement against your throbbing heat feels like blissful agony.

“I can’t-“ You clutch the bedsheets as her teeth graze over your sensitive folds, “-take it!”

“Yes, you can, sweet thing.” She peppers loving kisses over your heat, covering her rosy lips in a glossy sheen from your slick. Her thumb pulls your folds apart, practically drooling at the sight of your awaiting hole.

“So pretty. You can take more.” She hummed, sucking on your clit once more.

Tim Drake

Tim Drake who is as efficient at being attentive as he is trained in martial arts. He’s analyzed every micro expression, every breath, every muscle twitch to learn exactly how to please you. He’s perfected it like it’s an art.

His eyes flicker over your withering, heated body. The familiar blue looks darker as he ghosts over your tied hands, how they subtly tug at the silk rope yet you have no desire to break free. The way his tongue slides over your aching pussy, hot and purposeful, has you seeing stars and he just got started. His firm hands are guiding as if discreetly training you, moving your leg so it’s over his shoulder. He wants to be closer, to taste the salty sweetness that is you. He moans against your clit, hands everywhere. One brushes against your thigh, one up your stomach, and to your breast to flick his thumb over a perky nipple. Every movement is deliberately planned to make you fall apart.

“Stay still.” He whispers as you arch your back, toes curling as his tongue glides over a sensitive spot near your slick folds. That’s a new one. His fingers glide over the puddling wetness. His pupils dilate at the sight, getting dizzy off the taste of you. With a low moan, he shoves his fingers inside your velvety walls, curling them just so as he goes back to exploiting the newfound sweet spot. The feeling was intoxicating as it shot tingling pleasure up your legs and down your spine, shimmering deep within your gut. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was able to pull an orgasm from you each time.

Your body jerks despite his firm command to stay still. You just can’t help it, not when he’s this talented. Your approaching orgasm crashes into you in waves, making your head go blank and your eyes roll back as you buck your hips into his mouth. He’ll let it slide just this once. How generous.

[bloomcissa]

Jason with a gf that likes it when he's mean (and Jason who hates it) ── cw: suggestive, established relationship

inspired by horimiya <3

“I like it when you yell at me.” You liked it a bit too much for it to be normal, in Jason's opinion.

“Well, I don't,” he grumbles.

This was one of the many times you've brought this up, and it all started the first time he ever yelled at you. 

To be fair, it was after a mission. One that left you injured due to your recklessness. Seeing you lying there, cuts littering your cheek, eyes droopy from the meds, he’d lost all sense of restraint as fear left him breathless.

However, the moment he’d yelled, the moment he uttered the words, “the fuck is wrong with you?!”, he didn’t quite expect your face to heat up, your eyes to suddenly widen, your throat to bob in a way he knew wasn’t from fear or shame.

That was when he realized he screwed up.

And now he lies in bed, a book in one hand, the other playing with your hair when he wasn't turning a page. He listens as you tell him your fantasies. 

“So close, but this time don’t grumble—just yell, but in a really mean way.”

Pink spreads over his cheeks, his throat going dry. He somehow managed an “I’m busy.”

“You've been staring at the same page for like ten minutes.”

“…I’m a slow reader.”

“Jayyy,” you drag his nickname out in a way that has him biting his cheek. All this talking about what you want in bed hasn't gone unnoticed.

“Listen, I’m not slapping you, yelling, or whatever the hell else you want.”

You take the book out of his hand and shift so you're looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ll suck—”

He cuts you off sternly by saying your name, his hand grabbing your wrist before you could touch him.

You press your lips together to stop a giddy smile from coming through.

“God—you liked that, didn’t you?” he groans, looking up as if begging the heavens to save him.

You pull your hand out of his hold and grab onto his arm, chin pressing against his bicep as you look into his eyes. “Pretty please?”

His fingers curl into your shirt, head leaning down towards you instinctively, and his resolve fails as it always does.

“Fine,” he struggles out. “…just let me take care of you after.”

You tilt your head.

He looks away as he speaks, eyes focusing intently on a wall. “You deserve to be treated gently,” he explains.

“Awww.”

“Shut up.”

Your grin widens. 

Masterlist

[batshadows]

The DC fandom on Tumblr is a lot nicer than the Marvel side

[batshadows]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Batshadows Masterlist ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

🌃 Last Updated: February 24th, 2026

🌃 Fluff

🏙️ Hurt/comfort

🌆 Smut

Tim Drake:

🌃 🏙️ Kissing Your Best Friend

🌃 Boyfriend Headcanons

🌆 Meddling About

Dick Grayson:

🌃 Boyfriend Headcanons

🌆 Meddling About

Jason Todd:

🌃 Boyfriend Headcanons

🌆 Meddling About

Connor Kent:

🌆 Meddling About

Koriand’r:

🌆 Meddling About

More to come!

[batshadows]

Kissing Your Best Friend

Tim Drake Version | Jason Todd Version | Dick Grayson Version

Tags: Gender neutral reader, Hurt/comfort, Tim being a chronic overthinker, but so is reader, they kiss eventually I promise

Word Count: 1905

Masterlist

Gotham City’s lights dance down below. The electric haze of the gold and white lights replacing the stars in the forever cloudy skies. It looks soft, gentle, as if it’s pretending to be something it’s not. From the overlook, the bustling noise doesn’t reach you. Not the traffic, or the sirens, or the daily breaking headlines. Just the gentle cool breeze and the rustling of leaves with the occasional car passing by.

The engine ticks as it cools down. Despite the car being parked and off, Tim keeps his grip on the steering wheel; knuckles white from how tight he’s holding onto it.

He’s been off lately. Borderline avoidant with his calculated distance. He’s responding to texts slower, conversations cut short, not having the time to hang out. It got to the point where it was eating you alive. Did you do something to make him mad? You knew he had a tendency to pull away when emotions got too strong. Maybe this was a sign you fucked up. Any attempt to talk to him about it was met with a hasty excuse of being ‘too busy.’ Which is why him proposing to take a drive with you along Gotham Mountains parkway was shocking, but also a good sign. He was ready to talk.

You were angled toward him in the passenger seat, one knee tucked under you. The dashboard lights paint his face in low white shadows, catching on the sharp line of his jaw that's clenched. It enunciates the crease between his brows.

He looks tired. Not his usual tiredness from patrols. This is clearly exhaustion that stems from weeks of wrestling with whatever emotion he tried to intellectualize. Every second in tense silence makes your heart beat harder, and not with the usual flusteredness you’d get when you would be around his presence.

“You’re scaring me.” You said with a forced lightness. You try to brush it off as a joke, but it doesn’t work.

Tim finally drops his hands from the steering wheel to his lap, fingers flexing like they don’t know what to do without clutching onto something.

“I know.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. His eyes stay locked on the city below, deceptively humane. “I don’t mean to. I just…” He shakes his head and covers his face with his hands.

Despite your worries, despite that screaming voice in your head telling you that this is it, you did something and fucked it all up, you remain silent. You give him the space he needs to properly get the words out. He sees that, and he’s grateful. That’s just another thing he loves about you. You get him more than anyone else could. He wants to tell you why he’s placed distance between the two of you. He sees that all he’s doing is hurting you by keeping silent, more than his hasty confession ever could. He can see it in your body language, his analytic gaze picking up on the nervous habits he’s noted throughout the years of knowing you — the twitch in your jaw, the fidgeting of your hands, how your eyes strain to stay on him — he knows your tells just as much as you know his.

It’s killing him. Why can’t he just spit it out? He’s fought deadly assassins and psychotic villains with ease. Yet he can’t tell his best friend he’s in love with them? All because he’s been in his head about this for weeks? Months, even.

That’s pathetic, Drake.

Then he feels the familiar softness of your hand on his. You squeeze his hand, swallowing the lump in your throat. He’s spiraling, and you’re doing no better.

“Did I do something?” You ask, voice cracking despite how hard you try to keep it together. Tim’s racing thoughts come to a halt.

“No!” He declares, “God, no. I just- okay.” He turns to fully face you, his hand never letting go of yours. It’s selfish of him to want you like this, by his side and touching him. He holds your hand tighter.

“Then what is it? Please, talk to me.”

Steeling his nerves, he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. The proximity causes your heart rate to spike. He’s so close that all of your senses are overtaken by him. His warmth envelops your body. His cologne makes your head go blank, the familiar woody scent that smells like the old-money he doesn’t flaunt.

“Spit it out, Drake,” You whisper, almost impatient. You need to hear it. You need to know.

“I’m not good enough.” He states with hesitance, as if it’s the most sinful confession. Like speaking them makes it solidified as gospel.

“That’s what’s been bothering you?” You raise your hand to cup his cheek, your touch contrasting with the bitter night cold. “That’s silly. You’re always enough. More than enough. You do so much for everyone.”

He stares at you with a tightened jaw. It’s been a long, long time since he’s felt this reassured. Since he’s felt like someone is telling him this with honest conviction and not out of courtesy. It’s the type of reassurance not even his brother could distill in him. That’s why his heart beats faster during late-night coffee runs. That’s why he’s always terrified of not being enough for you. You deserve the world, and he’s felt like he’s fallen short of that for weeks. Yet here you are, soft smile yet determined eyes to get it through his stubborn skull. His hand mirrors yours, cupping your cheek.

“You mean that?”

”More than anything.”

“Even when I run away?”

“I'll catch up eventually.”

His breathing falters. Those words, that declaration, are what he’s been needing to hear for a long while. He could always rely on you. He hopes you can still rely on him, too. After a moment, he smiles with a breathy laugh. God, you’re so sweet.

“This is why I love you.”

The words hang there.

He meant to say that. Subconsciously, at least. Consciously he’s never that confident. Tim hears the way your breath catches, sees how your eyes widen. Despite that, you don’t pull away.

“I—“ His throat bobs as the words die on his tongue. For once there’s no clever save. There’s no way to tactically retreat. There’s no way to throw a smoke pellet and run away. He’s forced to face the music he’s been blocking out for far too long. “I mean, I did. I mean it. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not to say I’m not glad I did! I just-“

You laugh, light and disbelieving. “Tim.”

He shuts up, eyes searching yours for any hint of what you’re thinking. The light of the dashboard reflects off your irises, adding a spark to them that makes his heart flutter.

You search his face as he scans yours. He looks terrified. This isn’t the confident strategist who outsmarts the majority of the human race. This isn’t the boy who religiously goes out of his way to fight for a city that’s unforgiving and ungrateful.

This is just Tim.

Just the boy you met in elementary school. Just the boy that’s grown up alongside you — dorky, nervous, precious. The boy who looks at you like you’re his whole world.

“You love me?” You’re quiet, hesitant as if you can’t believe it.

His eyes flicker down to your lips.

”I do. I think I have for a while. That’s the problem,” His other hand lets go of yours to hold your other cheek, callused thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “I’m not good enough for you.”

”I think I can decide what’s good enough for me.” You push carefully, running your fingers through his hair now that he let go. Even with the serious conversation, even with how convinced he is of his own thoughts, you lean into the warmth of his touch.

“Loving me back will just put you in danger. It’s risky—“

”You don’t get to decide what risks I’m willing to take.”

Your words come out stern but that’s the only thing that will get him to listen to you. You’ve spent far too long pining after him. Been through too much shit with him. Stuck with him through highs and lows. Been struggling with your own worry and uncertainty. Now he’s sitting before you, confessing he loves you but doesn’t want to act on it cause he’s let himself think too much. You’re not about to be punished like this when the feeling is mutual.

“I know what your life is,” you continue, “I know who you are. Both in and out of that suit.” A knowing smile graces your soft features — years of shared secrets passing between you two. “You don’t get to push me away and love me at a distance. That’s sad. And lonely. And stupid. And—“

”I get it.” He interrupted with a doting smile.

“Good. ‘Cause you are enough for me, and I don’t care about the risks. I love you, too. This city isn’t about to stop me from loving you.”

For a moment, he just stares. He processes the words like he’s cross-referencing and verifying your honest confession through every insecurity that’s carved itself into his very being. His hold on your face tightens ever so slightly. Grounding. His eyes flicker to your lips once more.

Your breaths interlock and the air thickens. Then he tilts his head, just barely.

“Tell me to stop,” He whispered, and it’s so Tim. Careful, considerate, giving you an out like you’re stupid enough to let this moment slip by.

“Don’t stop.”

He leans in slowly, and you follow suit. It’s so slow it’s almost painful, years of love-fueled nerves making you eager. For someone who lives a dangerous double life, he’s approaching this like something sacred.

His lips brush over yours once, twice, before clashing them with yours. It’s shaky, soft, and tantalizing. You feel the exhale he’s been holding fan over your cheeks. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, the other sliding down your body to rest on your waist. He pulls you just a fraction closer, experimenting on how much he can express his want for you.

You kiss him back without hesitation. Your body hums with prolonged excitement, buzzing like you’re high off him. Your fingers tighten in his hair, deepening the kiss just enough to make his breath hitch. He responds instinctively. The hand at your waist pulls you even closer, more sure that this is real. His lips move against yours with growing confidence. Weeks, months, years of restrained affection pour into the kiss. Every almost-touch. Every lingering glance. Every confession that died on his tongue when he wanted to scream it. It’s all there.

You pull away only when breathing becomes necessary. Your foreheads rest together once more, noses brushing and lips only centimeters apart. His gaze holds a discovered credence he’s lost.

“Still scared?” You asked with a knowing smile. He laughs, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“No,” He said, “Just want to be yours.”

Your heart stutters. “You can be.”

He kisses you again, less hesitant this time. It’s deeper. Intentional now without the apprehension. His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, finally letting himself indulge in you. When you melt into him without reservation, with longing, he finally understands.

This was the bravest thing he’s ever done.

[batshadows]

Rules

Here are the official laws of Gotham. Follow them or Batman is snatching you up.

This account writes specifically for DC characters. This includes (but not limited to) Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan, Clark Kent, Starfire/Koriand’r, Connor Kent, Cassandra Cain, Wally West, Roy Harper, Kate Kane

Majority of my content will be reader insert, and done with gender neutral reader in mind. However, there are a couple of exceptions: any smut will be AFAB and may release a AMAB version; content for Kate Kane will be done with female reader to respect her representation.

Currently I do not have requests open. If you want to send in your own thoughts/ideas feel free to!

This is an 18+ blog. Minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.

I WILL heavily block hate speech/harassment of any kind.

Any small posts about characters will not be put on the Masterlist. Instead, they will be tagged with #gothamnews

DNI

Let me make my political alignments known:

No Trump voters/MAGA/ICE Supporters

No Zionists

No homophobes/transphobes/xenophobes/etc.

No misogynists

No racists

Essentially stay away if you suck

[plagueislost]

more redrawing memes bc it’s midterms and i need a goddamn break from studying

thanks @sapphireblue15 for the idea :)