Synopsis: Bruce hasn't come home yet, so you bake some banana bread.
Warnings: Fem-Reader, Slight Angst, Reverse Comfort, Crying, Probably OOC, Let me know if i missed anything.
Author note/s: I do apologize for fall of the face of the planet... again. I lost my motivation to write and left the DC fandom, BUT IM BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER.
(also i am really sorry to who asked for this and it taking so long i really hope it is up to your standards. please dont murk me in my sleep, thank you🤙)
3:36 AM
That's what the clock said. Bruce was normally home by now. In bed? No, just home... in the batcave, in his office, or just being with you. But no.
Within this past week alone it seems like all of Gotham's villains had a meeting to coordinate their attacks all at the same time.
Joker,
Scarecrow,
Poison ivy,
Riddler,
Bane,
Mr.Freeze,
Two-face,
Killer Croc,
Mad Hatter,
and the list just keeps going.
So, the treats just keep being made. You have this thing when being really stressed out — you bake. Cakes, breads, cookies, brownies, you get the point.
So, when you didn't get sign of Bruce coming home you started to bake. First it was lemon cake, then it was sugar cookies, now it's banana bread.
Mashing the bananas, adding the sugar, flour, eggs, butter, milk, even adding those dark chocolate chips Bruce loves.
The clock struck 4:00
And you were so deep in that baking frenzy, you failed to hear the sound of boots dragging across the floor.
Bruce, who had just got back from stopping one of Penguin's many illegal weapon smugglings. He had one thing and one thing in mind only.
You.
His darling wife, the woman whom he loves so dearly.
Bruce, knowing about your little habit, subconsciously went to the kitchen. He knew that the stress he was under was also effecting you.
As he was approaching the kitchen he caught a faint smell of something. A warm buttery almost nutty smell.
Bruce followed the smell almost cartoonishly, feet dragging. Stopping at the doorway, he was greeted by the sight of your back.
Well, you being bent over to pull the loaf out of the oven.
Bruce and his oh so light steps make it impossible to hear him coming. He manages to get completely behind you and drape his entire body on you.
His arms holding you in a loose grip as if he could let go at any moment.
Your initial responses was panic, then relief.
"Hello, Bruce."
Your voice was light but sarcastic.
He's late.
You're mad.
Him being all cuddly wont stop your anger.
However, his tiredness will put it on pause for the time being.
He nuzzles the bridge of his nose into where your shoulders and neck meet. His attempt to say something was a failed one. Voice coming out as a low rumbling and pure vibrations on your skin.
You blink at him a few times, banana bread still hot in its pan.
"What?"
He tried again,
and failed.
"Brucie Baby, what are you saying."
"My starlet,"
Is all that was managed to be heard coherently before becoming a mumble.
A sigh leaves your nose as you take the banana bread out of the pan. Meticulously cutting it into even slices as Bruce continues to bury his face in you.
Picking up some of the crumbs with the tips of your fingers and licking them off.
A small hum of contentment was made at the taste of your baking.
"Brucie Baby."
You say softly taking your right hand and bringing it to his hair.
Pushing your fingers through his charcoal locks - slightly damp from Gotham's rain and his sweat.
"Bruce~"
You sing trying to get him to lift his head up.
"I made banana bread, with dark chocolate chips."
This gets his attention. Lifting his head up ever so slightly.
"Hm?"
Breaking off a corner of a slice and bringing it to his mouth to feed him.
"Open-"
You demand brushing the warm buttery bread piece against his lips.
He does as he is asked and slightly opens his mouth, just big enough to slip the piece of bread through.
The flavors of the banana bread hit him at once.
The warm nuttiness from browned butter,
The faint sweetness from the dark chocolate,
And of course, the creamy almost caramel taste of the banana.
"So... how is it?"
Questioning your silent husband as he buries his head again.
There was a moment of silence.
Then the silence continued,
"Bruce?"
You were about to call out to him again but you felt something wet against your neck.
The wetness rolled down your back.
You felt frozen.
Bruce Wayne.
BatMan.
Gotham's golden boy and nightly savior,
Your husband was crying into you.
You have only seen Bruce cry a handful of times.
The night him and Dick had an argument that lead to Dick becoming Nightwing,
The night that Jason had died,
When he had gotten Tim back from the Joker Jr. situation,
And the day you got married.
So standing here. In the kitchen, with your husband quietly crying into your skin you really don't know what to do.
"... Bruce?"
Your voice is shaky and quiet.
Bruce's response is to press his face further into you. His arms moving from being slack around your midsection to gripping your waist and bringing your back flush with his chest.
He just barely lifts his head up and opens then closes his mouth again.
A silence was deafening before he actually spoke.
His speech was broken and hoarse. Voice just barely audible as his lips ghosted your skin.
"I'm just happy that you're still here..."
His words fell heavy on you.
Your breath stills, taking a moment to figure out what's next.
Taking a deep breath you slowly turn around in his arms and he lets you.
While his hands never left your waist they did loosen a little. His thumbs now rubbing against the exposed skin.
His face was still firmly placed on your neck — quiet tears still come from his crystal blue eyes.
Taking your hands and lifting his head slightly to cup his jaw. You are met face to face with him at last.
His beautiful blue eyes are red and all puffy from crying. Tears still streaming down his sculpted features.
He looks at you with this tired expression, one that held years of exhaustion yet still so full of love for his family, for you.
His starlet.
Bringing his forehead to yours and letting it rest there for a moment for two.
Closing your eyes and just being there for him without any words. Like an anchor on a ship or the string that holds the kite.
Bruce watched your face through his lashes. The way your eyes twitched trying to keep them closed, your lips being slightly parted in the slightest frown of concern, the furrow of your brow.
And then, you leaned in.
Bruce's eyes flutter closed on instinct when he feels you shift in his embrace. Your lips meeting his in a slow, thoughtful kiss. Gently, you snake your arms over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. Bodies flush with the warmth and familiarity of each other's shapes fitting together so easily.
Safe...
You could feel Bruce tremble, but only for a moment, his arms squeezing the frame of your waist. Even though you were close enough to feel every shift, breath, and beat in his body. The man couldn't help but try to hold you closer, tighter.
Like he was still worried that no matter how secure his grasp on you was...
You could be gone.
Slipping through his fingers even if his hands were white knuckled and bloody.
The thought alone makes Bruce's chest shudder slightly as he tries to collect himself. Taking a gasp of air rather than a full breath when he parts his lips from yours, only to lean back in and continue the kiss just a bit longer. He wouldn't have called it desperate. But you would have... Your husband was many things.
The CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Billionaire and philanthropist.
The Dark Knight. Protector of Gotham.
But under it all...
He was your husband.
A desperate, paranoid man, whose only want.
The one selfish desire he truly lets himself have out of any and everything.
Is to have you. To hold you. To, at the end of his days, still be able to crawl into your shared bed and call you his...
And in a way. You know. You can feel it in the way his fingers twitch, subtly tightening their hold on you even now. The way he tilts his head to deepen every kiss you've shared. How his tongue traces the seam of your lips, not for entry, purely to savor as if this kiss will finally be his last.
... One day that may be the case. But not today.
Pulling away from the tender moment, letting each other just be in the presence of the other.
"Where else would I be?"
It was barely a whisper, something that could only be heard between the two of you.
His grip on your waist had tightened.
"I.."
He trailed off in his sentence.
"I don't even want to think about it..."
You didn't push, just let him place his head back in your neck. Wrapping your own hands around his body in a tight hold to ground not only him but yourself.
"Brucie Baby... I think we should head to bed"
"Yeah, I think that would be for the best my starlet."
Synopsis: Bruce hasn't come home yet, so you bake some banana bread.
Warnings: Fem-Reader, Slight Angst, Reverse Comfort, Crying, Probably OOC, Let me know if i missed anything.
Author note/s: I do apologize for fall of the face of the planet... again. I lost my motivation to write and left the DC fandom, BUT IM BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER.
(also i am really sorry to who asked for this and it taking so long i really hope it is up to your standards. please dont murk me in my sleep, thank you🤙)
3:36 AM
That's what the clock said. Bruce was normally home by now. In bed? No, just home... in the batcave, in his office, or just being with you. But no.
Within this past week alone it seems like all of Gotham's villains had a meeting to coordinate their attacks all at the same time.
Joker,
Scarecrow,
Poison ivy,
Riddler,
Bane,
Mr.Freeze,
Two-face,
Killer Croc,
Mad Hatter,
and the list just keeps going.
So, the treats just keep being made. You have this thing when being really stressed out — you bake. Cakes, breads, cookies, brownies, you get the point.
So, when you didn't get sign of Bruce coming home you started to bake. First it was lemon cake, then it was sugar cookies, now it's banana bread.
Mashing the bananas, adding the sugar, flour, eggs, butter, milk, even adding those dark chocolate chips Bruce loves.
The clock struck 4:00
And you were so deep in that baking frenzy, you failed to hear the sound of boots dragging across the floor.
Bruce, who had just got back from stopping one of Penguin's many illegal weapon smugglings. He had one thing and one thing in mind only.
You.
His darling wife, the woman whom he loves so dearly.
Bruce, knowing about your little habit, subconsciously went to the kitchen. He knew that the stress he was under was also effecting you.
As he was approaching the kitchen he caught a faint smell of something. A warm buttery almost nutty smell.
Bruce followed the smell almost cartoonishly, feet dragging. Stopping at the doorway, he was greeted by the sight of your back.
Well, you being bent over to pull the loaf out of the oven.
Bruce and his oh so light steps make it impossible to hear him coming. He manages to get completely behind you and drape his entire body on you.
His arms holding you in a loose grip as if he could let go at any moment.
Your initial responses was panic, then relief.
"Hello, Bruce."
Your voice was light but sarcastic.
He's late.
You're mad.
Him being all cuddly wont stop your anger.
However, his tiredness will put it on pause for the time being.
He nuzzles the bridge of his nose into where your shoulders and neck meet. His attempt to say something was a failed one. Voice coming out as a low rumbling and pure vibrations on your skin.
You blink at him a few times, banana bread still hot in its pan.
"What?"
He tried again,
and failed.
"Brucie Baby, what are you saying."
"My starlet,"
Is all that was managed to be heard coherently before becoming a mumble.
A sigh leaves your nose as you take the banana bread out of the pan. Meticulously cutting it into even slices as Bruce continues to bury his face in you.
Picking up some of the crumbs with the tips of your fingers and licking them off.
A small hum of contentment was made at the taste of your baking.
"Brucie Baby."
You say softly taking your right hand and bringing it to his hair.
Pushing your fingers through his charcoal locks - slightly damp from Gotham's rain and his sweat.
"Bruce~"
You sing trying to get him to lift his head up.
"I made banana bread, with dark chocolate chips."
This gets his attention. Lifting his head up ever so slightly.
"Hm?"
Breaking off a corner of a slice and bringing it to his mouth to feed him.
"Open-"
You demand brushing the warm buttery bread piece against his lips.
He does as he is asked and slightly opens his mouth, just big enough to slip the piece of bread through.
The flavors of the banana bread hit him at once.
The warm nuttiness from browned butter,
The faint sweetness from the dark chocolate,
And of course, the creamy almost caramel taste of the banana.
"So... how is it?"
Questioning your silent husband as he buries his head again.
There was a moment of silence.
Then the silence continued,
"Bruce?"
You were about to call out to him again but you felt something wet against your neck.
The wetness rolled down your back.
You felt frozen.
Bruce Wayne.
BatMan.
Gotham's golden boy and nightly savior,
Your husband was crying into you.
You have only seen Bruce cry a handful of times.
The night him and Dick had an argument that lead to Dick becoming Nightwing,
The night that Jason had died,
When he had gotten Tim back from the Joker Jr. situation,
And the day you got married.
So standing here. In the kitchen, with your husband quietly crying into your skin you really don't know what to do.
"... Bruce?"
Your voice is shaky and quiet.
Bruce's response is to press his face further into you. His arms moving from being slack around your midsection to gripping your waist and bringing your back flush with his chest.
He just barely lifts his head up and opens then closes his mouth again.
A silence was deafening before he actually spoke.
His speech was broken and hoarse. Voice just barely audible as his lips ghosted your skin.
"I'm just happy that you're still here..."
His words fell heavy on you.
Your breath stills, taking a moment to figure out what's next.
Taking a deep breath you slowly turn around in his arms and he lets you.
While his hands never left your waist they did loosen a little. His thumbs now rubbing against the exposed skin.
His face was still firmly placed on your neck — quiet tears still come from his crystal blue eyes.
Taking your hands and lifting his head slightly to cup his jaw. You are met face to face with him at last.
His beautiful blue eyes are red and all puffy from crying. Tears still streaming down his sculpted features.
He looks at you with this tired expression, one that held years of exhaustion yet still so full of love for his family, for you.
His starlet.
Bringing his forehead to yours and letting it rest there for a moment for two.
Closing your eyes and just being there for him without any words. Like an anchor on a ship or the string that holds the kite.
Bruce watched your face through his lashes. The way your eyes twitched trying to keep them closed, your lips being slightly parted in the slightest frown of concern, the furrow of your brow.
And then, you leaned in.
Bruce's eyes flutter closed on instinct when he feels you shift in his embrace. Your lips meeting his in a slow, thoughtful kiss. Gently, you snake your arms over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. Bodies flush with the warmth and familiarity of each other's shapes fitting together so easily.
Safe...
You could feel Bruce tremble, but only for a moment, his arms squeezing the frame of your waist. Even though you were close enough to feel every shift, breath, and beat in his body. The man couldn't help but try to hold you closer, tighter.
Like he was still worried that no matter how secure his grasp on you was...
You could be gone.
Slipping through his fingers even if his hands were white knuckled and bloody.
The thought alone makes Bruce's chest shudder slightly as he tries to collect himself. Taking a gasp of air rather than a full breath when he parts his lips from yours, only to lean back in and continue the kiss just a bit longer. He wouldn't have called it desperate. But you would have... Your husband was many things.
The CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Billionaire and philanthropist.
The Dark Knight. Protector of Gotham.
But under it all...
He was your husband.
A desperate, paranoid man, whose only want.
The one selfish desire he truly lets himself have out of any and everything.
Is to have you. To hold you. To, at the end of his days, still be able to crawl into your shared bed and call you his...
And in a way. You know. You can feel it in the way his fingers twitch, subtly tightening their hold on you even now. The way he tilts his head to deepen every kiss you've shared. How his tongue traces the seam of your lips, not for entry, purely to savor as if this kiss will finally be his last.
... One day that may be the case. But not today.
Pulling away from the tender moment, letting each other just be in the presence of the other.
"Where else would I be?"
It was barely a whisper, something that could only be heard between the two of you.
His grip on your waist had tightened.
"I.."
He trailed off in his sentence.
"I don't even want to think about it..."
You didn't push, just let him place his head back in your neck. Wrapping your own hands around his body in a tight hold to ground not only him but yourself.
"Brucie Baby... I think we should head to bed"
"Yeah, I think that would be for the best my starlet."
summary: after being held in steve's basement for a few weeks, you slowly begin to realize that he's preserving you for something other than what he said he was.
warnings: MDNI, 18+, explicit content, smut, piv, oral (m receiving and implication of f receiving), handcuffs, talking about and mentions of cannibalism, actual cannibalism (not you), cannibalistic fantasies, stockholm syndrome, possessive steve kemp, dumbification, no use of y/n, collar use, petnames (doll, sweetheart, bunny, good girl, darling), rough sex, choking, unprotected sex (use condoms irl please), degradation, use of degrading titles/names (slut, sick girl, dog, ), reader has hair and it is mentioned, reader doesn't talk much, knife play, ruining a perfectly good red dress, tummy bulge, hair pulling, spitting in mouth, biting, scratching and drawing blood, Steve being audibly in pain and you being turned on by it, Steve whines a little bit,
word count: 5.6k (sorry if it's long i was yapping)
pulchritudinous: a word used to describe someone with breathtaking, heartbreaking beauty.
author's note: first fic!! please make all criticism constructive <3 and tell me if i missed any warnings pretty please i'll add them! i wrote a majority of this while being sleepy bc thats like the only time i can write something sexual without being too embarrassed and deleting everything (also is this too nice for a supposedly evil evil fic? i dont know what to write blaaaahhh)
⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
Steve's come with breakfast again, just like every day. Each rise and fall of the sun (which you can't see anyways) has begun to blur together, almost seeming like a montage in your rattled head. You've hardly spoken to anyone except for murmured thank yous to Steve for the food, or the girl next door. You still don't know her name.. Or maybe, you just don't remember. It's hard to think down here.
You get abruptly snapped out of your meaningless thoughts as you hear a soft sliding sound, and your eyes find the plastic tray decorated with food. Two small pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries, a bowl of mixed vegetables, a glass of milk, and a fork. A plastic one with rounded tips. It's a smart choice on Steve's end. Not giving you a weapon.
Instead of leaving immediately like he usually does, Steve squats in front of you as you eat, arms rested on his knees, eyes fixated on you. His soft smile is so fake that it's almost painful, but your ears perk up at his low and slightly tired voice.
"I have a present for you," He starts, letting his smile turn into more of a smirk as he stands up, getting a little box from the second shelf of the food cart, hidden in the corner. Steve places it next to your tray, lightly swatting your cuffed hand as you reach for it. "Not yet. Good girls don't open their presents until after they're done eating."
Seeing you go still for a moment, then nod and continue eating, Steve chuckles and rests a hand on your head. "Good. I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't open it early, I'll know." He says before grabbing the handle to the food cart, pushing it out of the room and sliding the barred entryway closed, sliding the digital key to lock it.
You find yourself staring at the gift box. He wouldn't really know, would he? It's not like he has cameras in here. ...Then again, he seems like exactly the kind of person to put cameras in these rooms. Probably smart, too.
So you just finish eating, leaving the tray empty. You push the plate and fork away, leaning back against the wall and waiting for Steve to come back. You glance at your wrist, remembering the handcuff. It's been there for so long that you almost forgot about it. It feels natural to have it moving around your wrist. Much to your own shame, you have imagined Steve using the chain connecting the handcuff to the wall differently, but it never went further than a fleeting thought.
You shouldn't be thinking about him like that. He's your kidnapper, the man who led you on and betrayed you, the man who'll probably end up killing you. But then, another thought- no, a question forms in your head. He said he would be cutting you up. Selling your meat to the highest bidder. So...
Why hasn't Steve taken a part of you yet?
And just as you begin to entertain that thought, the sound of footsteps echoes through the hallway, reaching your ears. The little digital key beeps against the lock of the door as Steve's hand circles one of the bars, sliding the door to the side smoothly. He raises an eyebrow at you, almost testing, seeing if you'll break and admit that you opened the gift before he came. Except you didn't.
And Steve expected that. Expected you to be good. And seeing you just stare silently, eyes wide with anticipation, he knows you obeyed him.
"You didn't open it. Just as you were told." Steve acknowledges, squatting down and picking up the gift before placing the box in your lap. He shifts to one knee beside you, both arms perched on one, then his chin on top of those. "Go ahead," He says, nodding his head towards the ribbon.
Your eyes move away from his toward the box, sleek and black, delicately wrapped with a blood red ribbon. You breathe in and tug on one end of it, watching the tie come apart purposefully. You then put either hand on the sides of the lid, lifting it up. Steve reaches forward to take the lid out of your hands, putting it to the side to let you see his present.
It's a brand new pair of handcuffs. Heart-shaped, not practical, but 'cute' in a way. Along with that is a collar. Buckled and black, with a heart charm dangling from the middle. You lift that up first, reading the engraved words on the charm first.
'Dumb Doll' on the front, 'Property of Steve' on the back. How romantic.
"..You think I'm dumb?" Is the first thing you ask Steve, words almost shaky as you look at him, offended. With an amused huff and a shake of his head, he answers, his words flooding your brain, almost making you feel like exactly what's on that collar.
"Could be dumber." Steve says, raising one hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "..But that's what you want to be, isn't it, doll? You told me yourself, when we went on those dates before. You're tired of being the big thinker, being the leader, being the one to always be working with nothing in return." He cocks his head to the side, relaxing his face and smirking like he knows you.
And he does.
"Those meaningless hookups didn't know you. They didn't know what you needed." Steve continues, letting his hand slide from your hair to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip slowly. "You want someone to take care of you. You want an escape, a chance to not be so.. Independent."
You just listen. Listen to him say everything you want to hear. Listen to him make you feel seen. Almost vulnerable. But that's not a bad feeling, not in this situation.
"You want to rely on someone else to take care of you. You want to be a dependent, dumb little pet for someone to love and care for, if only for a few minutes." Steve finalizes, smirking. Seeing you part your lips to speak, he presses his thumb against them, not letting you.
"Shh.. Don't talk." He commands, shutting you up instantly. He stands up, petting your head softly as he turns, speaking on his way to the barred door. "Be ready at 8 tonight, doll. I'll take you upstairs, cook something nice.. Then we can put those little presents to use, hm?" Steve suggests, unlocking the door and slipping out before locking it again. He pauses there on the other side before saying one last thing.
"..Wear the red dress I got you. You know which one I'm talking about."
꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷♡(✚)♡꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷
Embarrassingly enough, you got ready for him. Dolled yourself up with the makeup he bought you, slipped your body into the shapely red dress with the slit up by your thigh, even wore the thin gold necklace he gifted you. You were able to do this freely, since you were given the gift of not wearing the handcuff for the next few hours, while you got ready. Looking at yourself in the mirror of your vanity, you freeze.
You're getting ready for a date with the man that'll kill you sooner or later.
And you put a shameful amount of effort into it. Fixing your hair for the last time as you hear footsteps again, you breathe in and out, preparing yourself. You hear the familiar beep of the digital key scanning, then the door sliding open. You turn your head to see Steve leaning against the frame, dressed up in a black button-up and slacks, his belt shiny and new, his hair swept in a side part with gel. His eyes travel your body, taking in every nook and cranny, his own gaze softening out of his control.
He shudders, then clears his throat, straightening up and approaching you. He looks at your face, your skin looking radiant even in the dim light.
"..You look beautiful. Even more so than usual." Steve says, not allowing himself to say any more. If he did, he wouldn't be able to stop, addressing everything beautiful about you from the top of your head to the balls of your feet. He wouldn't be able to even stop himself from dropping to his knees and worshipping you.
But that's not the kind of man he is, despite how badly he wants to do it. He isn't a yearner. Steve is a man who takes what he wants when he wants, and he's not losing that to one of his prisoners. So instead, he flashes a smile again, and noticing the gift box sitting on the vanity, he picks it up with one hand. He offers his other, looking at you gently, not able to fully hide the appreciation in his eyes.
"You look nice too, Steve." You take his hand and follow him. He leads you upstairs, and familiar sights surround you. The kitchen, the living room, the creepy painting on the wall. The entryway and mysterious corridor that likely leads to the bedrooms, and the coffee table where you put your drugged drink after you finished it. Steve looks back at you, seeing your eyes wander, then chuckles.
"Sit down, doll. Dinner's almost ready." He says, leading you to the smaller table. It's obviously just meant for two. After you sit down, Steve leaves your side and sets the box down on the island countertop before going to the oven. You move your hands freely, noticing the lack of handcuffs on your wrists. He must've forgotten.
The smell of food wafts into your nose as Steve approaches with a large plate, two little plates on top.
"Tortellini with butternut squash, mushrooms, and gruyere," He introduces, smiling as he serves you a meatless version. He notices you peeking at his plate, figuring that you might be questioning the extra bits. "Mh." He grunts, acknowledging your curiosity. "Breast meat. Think her name was Melodie.. Figured you wouldn't want any, so I made you a vegetarian version." Steve explains, making you breathe a sigh of relief.
"..Thanks." You say simply, grimacing at the thought of Steve eating human meat right in front of you. You hesitate to eat, and Steve notices, but says nothing. You take a bite, and he starts talking.
"You don't talk much anymore, doll. Used to be a chatterbox, insulting me every time I passed by your cell, yellin' at me to get my 'pig fingers' at least 20 feet away from you." Steve says, chuckling as he takes another bite of his pasta. He chews, then speaks again, stabbing another piece of meat onto his fork. "You just.. Stopped talking. I miss your voice, doll, it's so pretty. You know that, right?" He asks.
You think before speaking, your voice quiet, vocal cords almost stinging from non-use. "Things turn out better if I don't talk. You feed me, the girl next door doesn't talk my ear off about hating your guts and wanting to kill you, and.." You pause, pressing your lips together in thought. "I don't have to say what I think all the time. Or, at least, I'm not expected to. I get to have my own little world without anything having to escape."
Steve studies you, eyes narrowing in thought as he takes another bite. This time, of the squash and a bit of meat. He chews and swallows before answering. "Tell me about the thoughts you have. What makes you feel..." He pauses, thinking. "..Angry?"
The question makes your mind race. The obvious answer would be to say Steve, but.. In all honesty, he doesn't make you feel angry.
"What makes me feel angry.." You start, pondering. "..The fact that there are people in the world that pay insane amounts of money for little gift boxes of meat and bras." You state, frowning as you take another bite of your meal. "The fact that you can do all this, kidnap women, harvest them, and always have customers that buy. That those fat, rich pigs can eat humans without remorse. For what? Closeness? Belonging? The feeling of having someone inside them, as close as they could possibly be?" You question, starting to get a little fired up.
"What makes me angry is the people who continue your business. If no one bought this shit, how many other girls would be alive right now? How many other families, friends, loved ones wouldn't be grieving right now?" You ask rhetorically, breathing in and out. "..And what makes me question all of this, question you.." You trail off, failing to bite your tongue and shut up.
"Is the fact that you haven't done it to me yet. Taken anything. Why?"
Steve frowns at your question. Really thinks about it, too. He knows the reason. But.. "It's complicated." He says, frowning. He sits up, his food only three quarters eaten. "..I like you. I really do." He says. "But that's not why I haven't cut you up yet. I liked some other girls too, but they still ended up in the freezer. Something about you makes me hesitate, Doll." Steve says, studying you. "It keeps me up at night, honestly. I swore to myself, right when I started all this, that I wouldn't let anyone get in the way. No feelings. But you.. You get me thinking."
"You're such an independent person. You were living by yourself, no close friends, blocked all of your family because they're fuckin' terrible, built yourself from the ground up." Steve chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "You pretended that you didn't need anyone to help you out- And I bet you didn't. But that night, when we first slept together?" He leans forward, the eye contact feeling intense. "You folded. Cried so pretty, told me so many things you probably don't even remember telling me. I felt bad, sweetheart. You were such a lonely girl with terrible coworkers and only a cheap vibrator and your pathetic fingers to keep yourself satisfied."
Steve pauses, taking a breath. Letting you take everything in, giving you a chance to speak before he continued again. Seeing your lips stay pressed together, he reaches forward, putting his hand over yours.
"I keep you pristine and uncut because I want to break you. I want to break your independent shell and uncover that reliant girl that I know is in there. I want o break you down and build you back up the way that you are on the inside." He says, standing up suddenly. He walks back to the kitchen counter, grabbing the gift box and coming back. He sets it down, opens it, and grabs the collar. He hums softly as he moves behind you, brushing your hair to the side as he fastens the leather around your neck. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he leans down to speak against your ear. "I want you break you down into that dumb doll I know you want to be." Steve says softly. "You want that too, don't you?"
You know that admitting it is basically signing your fate. You'll live, but pretty much to only be a housewife. Not like you mind that much.. But you'll also be concealing the deaths of countless other girls. You'll be able to hear their screams for help and have to ignore it.
On the other hand.. Denying it and telling him to go to hell would just turn you into one of them. Cut up and discarded, once loved. At least if you admit to wanting what Steve said, you'll live.. And he might love you, if you try hard enough.
Steve's gaze puts pressure on you, making you feel like you need to answer now. And that you can't possibly wait. Your mind spins, unable to make a decision without overthinking it. So, you just blurt out your first decision.
"I want it-.. Steve..." Your voice dies out, realizing what you just said. But you can't just leave it at that.. You need to play into it more. Secure your survival. "..I'm tired. Of thinking for myself. I want someone to.. Control me. To make all the decisions, to make me just.. Do what I'm told to do." You say, words breaking on their way out.
Steve hums from behind you, his hands moving your hair back behind your shoulders. He rests them by your neck, his thick and worked fingers brushing against your sensitive collarbone. "So, do this." Steve starts, petting your hair from behind you. "Go to the bedroom, and wait for me. I'll be there in a few minutes."
And for some reason, instead of taking the side exit and running on your way to his bedroom, your feet carry you to the almost comforting doorway. Your hand finds the cold knob, and you open it, being met with a large bed. Then, a door in the back. You wander towards it, opening it and finding a bathroom. Perfect.
Steve enters the room only a few minutes later, looking around. Not seeing you. A surge of disappointment fills him. Sending you here was supposed to be a test, to see if you meant what you said enough to stay, or if you would run. Prepared to make a call and have you shot, he turns back to the door and open it before he hears the bathroom door open, then soft footsteps.
Steve directs his focus to the other door, seeing you step out with freshly brushed hair and fresher makeup. He stills, then breathes out. Probably should've checked the bathroom before making an assumption.
He closes the bedroom door, tucking his phone away and offering both hands, but not going to you. Waiting for you to go to him.. And you do. You take his hands, letting him pull you close, forcing your chin up to look at him.
"Remember the first time we kissed, doll?" Steve asks, his gaze becoming darker. A huff of amusement leaves him as you nod, your eyes glossing over with anticipation and your body noticeably heating up. "You tried so hard to take control, but you just don't kiss like that. You're not meant for that." He says, leaning in more, finally connecting your lips. He lightly sucks at your upper lip, trading spit as he murmurs between kisses. "You're meant for.. So much more.."
Being pulled into a kiss like this almost makes your knees weak. The little jingle of the heart collar makes Steve chuckle against your lips as he slides his tongue in, pressing against yours and exploring. His hands leave your waist, and you feel him hold your wrists together as he fastens the handcuffs. He pulls away to get a good look at you, all spread out under him, red dress still adorning your body, legs shaking like leaves in Autumn wind. One of his hands stays around the chain of the cuffs as he tugs a pocket knife out of his pocket, sleek and black.
"Stay still, or I might just cut you, doll." Steve says, lips curving into a slight smirk as he drags the tip of the knife along your shoulder, the blade catching on the strap of the dress. With a flick of his wrist, the fabric comes apart, revealing more skin. The cold metals drags down along your chest not, nestling in your cleavage and slowly tearing the dress down the middle.
"You're so perfect, sweetheart," He growls, barely containing himself as the dress opens up more. Steve returns his gaze to your eyes, huffing in amusement at the fear in your expression. "Scared? I won't nick you. You know I'm good with my hands. I'm a doctor, remember?"
With another pull and tear, the dress is cut down to reveal your stomach. Steve groans softly and pauses, leaning down to kiss it, his lips trailing back up to your chest gradually. The hand surrounding the handcuff chain releases, moving down your body to squeeze one breast as he kisses the other one. Your little moan as he nips at your bud only seems to encourage him, and he takes it into his mouth.
He takes his time with you, extracting every little noise he can out of you, making sure you're taken care of. Feeling your body tense under his, Steve sits up, the hand on your chest moving to envelop your throat, but not squeeze.
"Relax. Let me take care of you, bunny. Just like you've always wanted." Steve feels you relax under his warm touch, and he hums, the soft vibration only making your mind slip further into a state of bliss. He severs the other strap of your dress quickly before leaning down and pressing lips lips against yours again, hand fleeing your neck to press against the mattress next to your head, the soft material dipping under his weight. He kisses you like both of your lives depend on it, all while he slices the remaining inches of the red dress, splitting it down the middle. Steve sits right back up with a breath, pulling the dress away to look at your body properly, nude, except for the panties pitifully covering up your cunt.
"Take those off for me, doll." Steve commands, tossing the knife off to the side before he begins pulling his shirt, fighting back a laugh as he sees you struggle with the handcuffs. You end up getting the undergarment off, though, much to your own happiness. You had been so focused on getting them off that you hadn't noticed Steve shedding his own clothes.. And now, he stands before you in just his boxers.
Your eyes drag along his body, tracing the hard lines of his chest down to his abs, following the soft lines of his hips to the bulge in his pants. You can't seem to look away, except for when his hand moves to your chin, tilting your head up. Before being able to think, you speak.
"I want to suck it, Steve..." You find yourself saying, the words not even feeling like your own. Never, not in any of your sexual encounters, have you been the requester. You never let yourself be one. But something about this man makes you weak. Fear, maybe. Love, hopefully not. A realization that Steve can be the man to treat you like you've always fantasized about? That he can take care of you, and you can just live the housewife dream that you've always heard is so good?
Yeah. Probably it.
Steve's eyes darken at your statement. Though, his lips smirk. "Good. Been thinking about fucking this mouth since I got you in here." He admits, stepping closer while also pushing his boxers down. The warm length bobs in front of you, not fully erect but getting there. As if you read his mind, you lean forward and let your lips graze the tip, before you turn your head and begin planting small, teasing pecks against the shaft. Steve brings both hands to your head, tangling in your hair softly, but not pulling. Yet.
"That's it.. Feel it get hard for you, doll. Being so good for me without me even having to ask. Such a natural-born giver." He praises, practically petting you, one hand moving over your head slowly and gently as the other stays against your ear, combing through your soft strands. That hand moves to the back of your head now, pulling softly. Guiding you to his balls, heavy and ready. Steve groans lowly, feeling you lick and suck at them, breathing in the pure scent of him and nudging his cock with your nose. He grows harder than before, chuckling darkly as he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging at it to make you look at him.
He tugs on it again, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips. They come apart willingly, taking it in. Steve gives you freedom, his hand only resting on your head instead of pulling now. He watches you pull away and spit on your hand, then spread it over his cock to make it easier for yourself. You take him in again, his groans only spurring you on to take more. Steve's other hand snakes over to tangle in your hair, too, starting to push and pull on it to control your pace and depth. His head falls back with a louder groan now, already getting close to cumming.
"God, fuuuuck..." Steve breathes out, laughing softly as he brings his head back to look down at you. "You do this often, huh? Your mouth feels so fuckin' good.. God, you're a slut, aren't you?" He questions, not wanting a response. His breathing gets noticeably faster as he starts to thrust against you, his hard and thick length throbbing in your throat. It feels suffocating, but you've also never had anyone this big before. You feel thick ropes of cum splat into your throat as he cums with a louder groan. Pulling out, Steve brings one hand off of your head and brings it back to his shaft, stroking it and moaning lowly as more, smaller ropes of cum land on your cheeks and open mouth.
"Good girl, so fucking eager to please me." Steve says, leaning down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. He smirks as you bite down on his bottom lip, drawing blood. He straightens up a bit and spits in your mouth to return the favor, forcefully closing your mouth to make you swallow it. He breathes out and laughs softly, licking blood off of his lip. "Wanna eat you out so fucking bad, baby.. But that's for another day. I need to be inside you, doll."
Steve picks you up and practically slams you down onto the bed, one large hand splayed over your stomach and the other matching the soft curve of your waist. He squeezes it gently, seeming to think about how much he'd make from a cut, but quickly returns his gaze to you, flashing a performative smile to mask the grotesque thoughts going through his head.
"You are.." Steve starts, hovering over you, the tip of his already re-hardened cock pressed intimately against your stomach, just below your belly button. "..Pulchritudinous." He finalizes.
With that, the hand on your stomach moves to his own cock, adjusting it to line up with your ready cunt. He pushes in slowly, listening intently to your every noise. The sharp intake of breath as your lower lips parted, the barely contained whimper as he shifted his hips to let his tip in, and now, the soft cry as he pushes a little deeper in.
It feels bigger than it looks, and it already looked impressive before he leaned over you. Steve raises his torso all the way up, his hands leaving your waist and stomach to put his hands behind your knees, pushing your legs apart. He laughs, the sound mixed with an exhale, almost sounding relieved.
"Might break ya if I rush this, but I've got to specially prepare some meat in an hour." Steve says, starting to push his hips forward more, bringing about half of his length into you now. "You don't mind, do you, doll? Don't mind if I take you hard and fast?" He asks rhetorically, not letting you respond as he pulls back to the tip, then slams the rest of his length with you.
You cry out, your mind barely registering the way Steve hitches your left leg over his shoulder, holding the other one by his hip. He clicks his tongue and brings his left hand, the unoccupied one, to your stomach again, rolling his hips against yours soothingly.
"So pretty like this, darling. So full of my cock that I can see it poking through your stomach." Steve teases, rubbing over the small, but obvious bulge with pride. Breathing out, he pulls away, but only momentarily. He pushes back in at an angle, his tip dragging against your walls excruciatingly slowly. "You think you can take it faster, baby?"
Seeing you nod insistently, then hearing a clinking sound, Steve moves his gaze to your hands, still behind your head. Then, the handcuffs. "..Huh. I forgot about those." He admits, humming. Then, he leans back in close, not moving his cock inside you at all. It feels torturous.
"You'll be good if I remove these, right?" He asks, his own hand reaching into his pocket, fingers tightening around the small key, then takes it out. Deliberately sliding it up your breast, the cool metal makes goosebumps form across your chest. Steve speaks again, his tone a little more stern this time.
"You'll be a good girl, right?" The way he follows that question with your name makes your knees weak. You're only glad that you're already laid on his bed.
"I'll be good, Steve," You answer with a trembling voice, the leg you have on his shoulder nudging him, trying to get him to move his hips, and you don't care what way. "I'll be so good for you, please, just-.. Please just fuck me, I can't take it anymore..I need you, please.."
Your eyes prick with tears as you beg. It makes you feel shameful. Begging so earnestly for cock from your kidnapper. You can't help it, though. You've developed a love for the man.. If he can even be called that.
"So fucking desperate for me, doll. How does it feel? Getting fucked.." Steve pauses, emphasizing that word by pulling back and thrusting forward sharply. "..By the man who, four days ago... Was gonna cut you up and have you for dinner? You sick, sick girl.." He asks, finally bringing the key to the handcuffs, unlocking them and tossing them aside. With the newfound freedom, you reach for Steve.
Your leg leaves his shoulder as he leans down, letting you embrace him as he starts to move again. His sharp intake of breath as your unkempt nails dig into his back with every thrust only arouses you more. Hearing him in pain turns you on more than it should've.
Steve's hips roll against you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass harder and faster as he gets more untamed, one hand finding your hair and the other being used to keep himself up. He groans as you claw at his back, then shivers at the feeling of blood dripping down his back. His gaze darkens, his forehead pressing against yours as he pants and moans.
"God, fuck," Steve whines, obviously getting close already. "Squeezing me so fuckin' tight- won't let me have any time to enjoy this.. Gonna make me cum so early- God!" He exhales sharply as you roll your own hips up, matching his rhythm. He bites his bottom lip and groans, but smiles and even chuckles through is as he increases the pace, his hips slamming down against you even more harshly.
"Keep this goin' and I might have to postpone my meeting.. Tell them I'm having dessert early.." He says, kissing you again, the bite from earlier still on his lip. Your hands fly to the back of his neck, holding him tightly against your face as your tongues get twisted, both fighting for dominance. Ultimately, you lose, of course.
Steve fucks and kisses you like it'll be the last time he fucks any girl on Earth. And maybe it will be, if he decides to harvest you after this. But you can hardly think about that possibility as his cock keeps driving into you. The length and girth of it practically fucks the thoughts right out of your head.
"So fuckin' dumb right now, aren't you? Cock drunk so the point you can't even think?" Steve asks, reading your expression perfectly. Feeling you tighten around him as he says that, he keeps going. "Just a dumb fucking doll for me to rail over and over. Just a stress relief toy f'me. Thaaaat's right, baby.. come on, cum f'me. You can do at least that, right? Or are you just too dumb?"
With that, as well as a loud whine from you, you cum, and Steve knows it. He fucks you right through it, his hips pistoning in and out of your cunt as he cums with you. He curses loudly, his other hand leaving your hair and practically slam against the mattress next to your head as he slams against you one more time before his thick ropes of cum begin to coat your insides.
Steve's body slumps over you as he sighs, resting his head against your chest and kissing your breasts like they're sacred. He laughs softly, kissing your left one again.
"Y'know.. These were gonna be the first things I took. Fell in love with them the moment I saw you.." He murmurs against your soft mounds, practically burying his face in them. "..But I think I like them much better when they're attached to you, so I think I'll let you keep 'em."
He reaches for his phone to check the time, and seeing that it's already five minutes past his meeting time, he sighs. "I might be using a sick excuse anyways.." Steve types out a message to someone with one hand, his face still buried against your tits. The moment he sends the message, he tosses his phone off of the bed and looks back at you, his voice lowering almost dangerously.
"Now that I have time, why don't I enjoy eating my dessert early?"
ෆ・┈・┈・┈・┈・⊹*:ꔫ:*˖⊹・┈・┈・┈・┈・ෆ
tag list: @sweetestgirlonline @highonmarvel
ending note: i'm sorry. i wrote this while i was very sleepy and it is not proofread. it's also basically porn. it's time for me to go to bed now, good nightjdnduxksk
“i’m batman” no you’re not you’re a 17 year old boy that thinks he’s knows what batman stands for when actually you have the media literacy of a peanut. leave me alone.
Synopsis: Meeting your boyfriend's family is always stressful and so is the holiday season. So, what better day to meet your boyfriend's family than Thanksgiving.
TW/CW: Written with Fem-Reader in mind but I don't think I used gendered language. (plz let me know if I did), Prolly OOC, and most likely cringe writing.
A/N: I pumped with out in two days b/c I forgot to write. So sorry it's kinda short- I may or may not add more later in the future but for right now I am just trying to get it out on Thanksgiving Day.
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"Angel, Angel Face, Angel Cakes"
"Dick..."
"Angel Hair! Angel…𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴~"
"What are you saying."
Dick flashed you a boyish grin glancing at you before his eyes returned to the road. Having just left your shared apartment in Blüdhaven with Dick you have about half an hour to kill.
However, this only worsened the preexisting anxiety of the situation; that of this being the first time you're meeting his family.
"Why did you have to pick Thanksgiving of all days."
You completely crossing your arms letting your head fall on the rest.
"Well, its one of the only day where we're all together. I figured Thanksgiving would be less stressful than Christmas, Angel."
His reassurance only helped a little. His right hand left the steering wheel to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth in a comforting way.
"I just- Its- Why is it the only time you're all together?"
You stammer your sentences together before landing on one. Dick runs a hand through his hair at your question; a habit formed from stress. Some hair falling back from its original spot, taking a deep breath before turning the corner.
"Well, I guess it's a time to be... Normal?"
His last word sounded more like a question than an answer.
"It's one of the only nights a year where Jason comes out his man hole for actual food, Tim is forced out of his room to eat, and well, Damian can insult people who aren't usually there."
Dick lets out a small chuckle at the confusion on your face and gives your thigh a squeeze.
"Sitting at a table and eating food with family is something that happens once a few times a year and its a nice change of pace from getting our asses kicked or kicking ass in spandex, latex, and leather ya' know? ... Chance to- Just be people."
Just as you were about to asked another question Dick's gets a notification. You both glance at his phone in the cup holder, to which he asks,
"Could you see who that was Angel face?"
Picking up his phone you see its a notification from 'Agent A'
You stared at his phone, you looked back up at him, then back down at the phone. Dicks face contorted into one of confusion at your reaction.
"Whats the matter Angel-"
Before he can finish his sentence he was cut off by you.
"Who's Agent A and why am I being referred to as a 'lady friend'-?"
You ask, putting more emphasis on lady friend than anything. Dick chuckles and explains that Agent A is just his butler his told you about. This leads to starting at him hitting your head on the head rest once again.
"... I forgot you had a butler."
You murmur, folding your arms and turning your head away.
"How?? What makes you think Bruce wouldn't have a butler."
"I forgot that you're Bruce's son."
"How?"
"Because we live in an apartment, Dinkleburg-"
"Hey-!"
He squawks,
"Be nice."
You simply roll your eyes just how you've done a thousand times before. However this didn't last long because as the two of you pull up to his drive way you can finally see just how big Wayne Manor actually is.
You gulp before releasing air through your nose.
"Angel..."
Dick's voice was clam, warm, and just a hint deeper than before. You turn your head just as he parks the car,
"Everything going to be fine."
He murmurs against your fingers, placing a kiss on them after taking your hand into his.
"They will love you."
Now turning over your hand to kiss your wrist,
"And it'll all go smoothly." He reaffirms, giving another kiss to the palm of your hand before squeezing it comfortingly.
Looking at him with a bashful gaze, you mutter back,
"Thank you, Dick."
You lean over the center console to kiss him. A warm and smooth kiss he returned happily.
His lips taste of chapstick and mint due to the gum he chews when stressed. The kiss lasted only a little longer before he pulls away.
"Alright, let's go in and greet the family before they suspect something weird."
You hit his arm and giggle a little at his comment,
Synopsis: You are reading your new book when things get a bit confusing. you ask your boyfriend, Jason for some help.
Notes: Probably OOC, This was written with Fem-Reader in mind but I don't believe any gender specific things come up (I could be wrong), This is my first time writing for Jason, Also sorry for falling off the face of the planet- School was killing me :(
TW/CW: Suggestive, maybe? gagging? gags? You gag like- once
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It was a calm evening, the rain hitting the window, the smell of a new candle being burnt, and a whole king size bed to yourself.
Jason was still on patrol doing whatever the Red Hood does, while you were able to crack open a new book. The book was an enemies to lovers smut book. The kind you see on TikTok and cringe a little at because what did I just read.
Being busy caught in between giggling and wanting to toss the whole book out the window you fail to hear the sound of boots dragging on the hardwood.
Jason, stopping at the open door of your shared room—leaning against the frame, watching you giggle at the book a soft smirk on his lips because you have failed to notice him. He takes a few steps into the room now at the side of the bed watching you read.
He cleared his throat in hopes to get your attention and it worked. The sudden sound of his throat clearing made you jump slightly and press your book firmly against your chest.
"Jason!"
You exclaimed, now recognizing the familiar sound of his laugh. However, this was cut short by giving him a firm whack on his chest. Or at least what you could manage to reach, being in the middle of the bed and stretching out to reach his toned body.
He asks taking his jacket off for a shower. Watching him from the bed like your personal show it takes a moment to process what he said. Blink a few times looking at his muscles flex with every movement. He raises an eyebrow at you from over his shoulder.
"Enjoying the show?"
His teasing breaks you out of the trance he had unknowingly placed on you.
"Huh? Oh! Yeah- It's an uh-"
You stutter and fumble with your book like a flustered fool. Finally, when you get a good grasp on the spine of the story, you read the back blurb.
He lets out an amused huff shaking his head. "You know, I don't understand why you read those kinds of books. Why not read some real literature like Hamlet or 1984-". Cutting him off before he finishes his sentence.
"I read 1984!"
"Reading it for a high school project does not count."
He scoffs wandering over to one of the hanging towels. You huff and grumble about how he was dumb and stupid and some other mean thing as you bury yourself back in the book.
A soft and gentle kiss was placed atop your head with a small chuckle and with that; the sound of the shower starting to run was mixed in with the sound of falling rain.
It wasn't until about an hour later when Jason was finished with his shower along with a few other things like cooking and eating dinner, that he came to lay down next to you. As he got into bed he couldn't help but notice a confused look on your face.
"What's wrong, bug?"
He asks with an unfamiliar tenderness to his voice. Turning to face him quickly then glancing back at your book— now trying to sit up fully; back against the headboard.
"The main characters, they-"
You squint at the words like that will help.
"They are in a position, but I can't figure out what it is-"
You say flatly, glaring at the page. Jason, now leaning over your shoulder to try and get a look at what you were confused about. You pushed the book more his way so he can see better.
He mutters the line of text you have been reading before pausing and repeating what he read, but slower.
"That doesn't make any sense."
He says trying to grab the book from your hands. Letting go of the book with a sigh of frustration.
"I swear, 13-year-olds on Wattpad can write better than half of these so-called professionals."
Somewhere in between being frustrated and Jason taking the book from you. A marvelously, evil, idea pop in your head.
"Hey, Jason,"
He looked up at you with his furrowed brows,
"Yes?"
"You wanna try and figure out what they are doing with me." You ask but not really asking—slithering your hand up his bare chest, resting it on his pec.
He raised a brow at you once more after placing your bookmark in between the pages, setting it down on his side table before turning to your side then picking you up and pulling you into a tight bear hug.
"You're so weird. You know that right?"
He grins with a chuckle as you flail around trying to escape his grasp like a fish.
Sometime later you are sitting on his chest reading the book aloud.
"He pushed her back against the cold wall, pulling her legs over his shoulder."
Jason looks at you confused like you have two head.
"I thought they where in a car?"
"They are-"
You dead pan looking at the book with disdain.
Doing as the book says putting your back against the bed. (Because the book says they are in a car.) And your legs over his shoulders.
"I don't understand how people do this-"
You say breathing deep.
"I'm like- sweating-"
Leaning your head back against the pillow letting your body go limp. Jason chuckles at your sluggish behavior.
"You know, it's easier without clothes."
He smirks down placing his forehead on yours. You glare at him once again hitting him this time on his back with your feet.
Kicking him, not unlike a baby.
"Jason-"
You sigh this time it's more exasperated instead of sharp. However, he just picks the book back up and continues where you left off.
"Her back arches as he placed his hand around he neck."
You frown before doing as the book says and arch your back.
"Ow-"
A wave of concern washes over Jason as you made a pained sound.
"Are you okay? Is everything alright? What happened?"
He asks in quick succession of each other.
"My back popped-" You garble, wrapping your hands around his neck.
A sigh of relief came from his mouth as he rested his head on your shoulder.
"Lemme try again-"
You say arching your back against the bed once more. This time staying. He rolled his eyes feeling your chest against his.
"Put your hand around my neck."
Jason does as he is told, resting his hand against your throat. A small gag comes from your mouth as he does so.
"What was that?"
He looks at you confused trying not to laugh as you coughed.
"I gagged-"
"Why?"
"I don't know."
You whine shifting as to be comfortable. Well as comfortable as you can be legs over your boyfriend shoulders.
"What's next?"
You ask reaching for the book—reading a few lines before grimacing.
"Oh they fuck."
The way you dead pan makes Jason laugh; sitting up from where he was. Your legs by default falling by his sides.
"This book is so confusing."
You smile as he moves to lay back down next to you, pulling you closer into his chest picking up the god forsaken book and tossing it on the night stand.
Synopsis: You are reading your new book when things get a bit confusing. you ask your boyfriend, Jason for some help.
Notes: Probably OOC, This was written with Fem-Reader in mind but I don't believe any gender specific things come up (I could be wrong), This is my first time writing for Jason, Also sorry for falling off the face of the planet- School was killing me :(
TW/CW: Suggestive, maybe? gagging? gags? You gag like- once
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It was a calm evening, the rain hitting the window, the smell of a new candle being burnt, and a whole king size bed to yourself.
Jason was still on patrol doing whatever the Red Hood does, while you were able to crack open a new book. The book was an enemies to lovers smut book. The kind you see on TikTok and cringe a little at because what did I just read.
Being busy caught in between giggling and wanting to toss the whole book out the window you fail to hear the sound of boots dragging on the hardwood.
Jason, stopping at the open door of your shared room—leaning against the frame, watching you giggle at the book a soft smirk on his lips because you have failed to notice him. He takes a few steps into the room now at the side of the bed watching you read.
He cleared his throat in hopes to get your attention and it worked. The sudden sound of his throat clearing made you jump slightly and press your book firmly against your chest.
"Jason!"
You exclaimed, now recognizing the familiar sound of his laugh. However, this was cut short by giving him a firm whack on his chest. Or at least what you could manage to reach, being in the middle of the bed and stretching out to reach his toned body.
He asks taking his jacket off for a shower. Watching him from the bed like your personal show it takes a moment to process what he said. Blink a few times looking at his muscles flex with every movement. He raises an eyebrow at you from over his shoulder.
"Enjoying the show?"
His teasing breaks you out of the trance he had unknowingly placed on you.
"Huh? Oh! Yeah- It's an uh-"
You stutter and fumble with your book like a flustered fool. Finally, when you get a good grasp on the spine of the story, you read the back blurb.
He lets out an amused huff shaking his head. "You know, I don't understand why you read those kinds of books. Why not read some real literature like Hamlet or 1984-". Cutting him off before he finishes his sentence.
"I read 1984!"
"Reading it for a high school project does not count."
He scoffs wandering over to one of the hanging towels. You huff and grumble about how he was dumb and stupid and some other mean thing as you bury yourself back in the book.
A soft and gentle kiss was placed atop your head with a small chuckle and with that; the sound of the shower starting to run was mixed in with the sound of falling rain.
It wasn't until about an hour later when Jason was finished with his shower along with a few other things like cooking and eating dinner, that he came to lay down next to you. As he got into bed he couldn't help but notice a confused look on your face.
"What's wrong, bug?"
He asks with an unfamiliar tenderness to his voice. Turning to face him quickly then glancing back at your book— now trying to sit up fully; back against the headboard.
"The main characters, they-"
You squint at the words like that will help.
"They are in a position, but I can't figure out what it is-"
You say flatly, glaring at the page. Jason, now leaning over your shoulder to try and get a look at what you were confused about. You pushed the book more his way so he can see better.
He mutters the line of text you have been reading before pausing and repeating what he read, but slower.
"That doesn't make any sense."
He says trying to grab the book from your hands. Letting go of the book with a sigh of frustration.
"I swear, 13-year-olds on Wattpad can write better than half of these so-called professionals."
Somewhere in between being frustrated and Jason taking the book from you. A marvelously, evil, idea pop in your head.
"Hey, Jason,"
He looked up at you with his furrowed brows,
"Yes?"
"You wanna try and figure out what they are doing with me." You ask but not really asking—slithering your hand up his bare chest, resting it on his pec.
He raised a brow at you once more after placing your bookmark in between the pages, setting it down on his side table before turning to your side then picking you up and pulling you into a tight bear hug.
"You're so weird. You know that right?"
He grins with a chuckle as you flail around trying to escape his grasp like a fish.
Sometime later you are sitting on his chest reading the book aloud.
"He pushed her back against the cold wall, pulling her legs over his shoulder."
Jason looks at you confused like you have two head.
"I thought they where in a car?"
"They are-"
You dead pan looking at the book with disdain.
Doing as the book says putting your back against the bed. (Because the book says they are in a car.) And your legs over his shoulders.
"I don't understand how people do this-"
You say breathing deep.
"I'm like- sweating-"
Leaning your head back against the pillow letting your body go limp. Jason chuckles at your sluggish behavior.
"You know, it's easier without clothes."
He smirks down placing his forehead on yours. You glare at him once again hitting him this time on his back with your feet.
Kicking him, not unlike a baby.
"Jason-"
You sigh this time it's more exasperated instead of sharp. However, he just picks the book back up and continues where you left off.
"Her back arches as he placed his hand around he neck."
You frown before doing as the book says and arch your back.
"Ow-"
A wave of concern washes over Jason as you made a pained sound.
"Are you okay? Is everything alright? What happened?"
He asks in quick succession of each other.
"My back popped-" You garble, wrapping your hands around his neck.
A sigh of relief came from his mouth as he rested his head on your shoulder.
"Lemme try again-"
You say arching your back against the bed once more. This time staying. He rolled his eyes feeling your chest against his.
"Put your hand around my neck."
Jason does as he is told, resting his hand against your throat. A small gag comes from your mouth as he does so.
"What was that?"
He looks at you confused trying not to laugh as you coughed.
"I gagged-"
"Why?"
"I don't know."
You whine shifting as to be comfortable. Well as comfortable as you can be legs over your boyfriend shoulders.
"What's next?"
You ask reaching for the book—reading a few lines before grimacing.
"Oh they fuck."
The way you dead pan makes Jason laugh; sitting up from where he was. Your legs by default falling by his sides.
"This book is so confusing."
You smile as he moves to lay back down next to you, pulling you closer into his chest picking up the god forsaken book and tossing it on the night stand.
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