Mβy second favorite pretty boy nightwing. I drew two versions one with the mask and one without I like the two versions ngl . But a first I made this illustration for an collaboration with a friend.
bruce bringing his pretty boy husband to a gala. uh, yeah that's the whole concept. feeling insane about it
πππππππ
bruce wayne x m!reader
ππππππππ ! ββ 2.4k words. bruce brings you, his pretty husband, to your first gala. and as you become more of a distraction, bruce becomes more jealous.
The car door opens and every camera immediately swings your way.
Not Bruceβs.
Yours.
Flashes spark in quick bursts, lighting the front steps of the gala like tiny explosions. You pause beside the sleek black car, adjusting the cuff of your suit jacket. Bruce steps out a second later, tall and composed in his perfectly tailored tux.
Normally, the moment he appears, the crowd shifts to himβreporters calling his name, socialites leaning in for a better look at Gothamβs favorite billionaire. Tonight, though?
βWhoβs that with Wayne?β
βIsnβt that his husband?β
βGodβlook at him.β
Bruce glances at you, and youβre standing there like some kind of walking art piece. A reporter literally stumbles forward. βBruce! One picture! With your husband!β
Another voice calls out immediately after. βSir! Sirβ look this way!β
He exhales through his nose, slow and quiet. Thatβsβ¦ new.
You step closer to him naturally, your arm sliding through his like it belongs thereβwhich it does.
βBruce Wayne! How does it feel bringing your husband tonight?β
βSir!β
His eyebrow twitches.
Your name gets shouted again.
And again.
And again.
Someone even wolf whistles.
Bruce leans slightly toward you, voice low enough only you can hear. βI bring you to one gala,β he murmurs, βand suddenly Gotham forgets I exist.β
You grin a little, tilting your head toward him. βYouβll survive.β
Another reporter tries. βBruce! Is it true you married him in secret?β
Bruce finally looks at the crowd, billionaire charm switching on instantly. Calm smile. Polished posture. βYes,β he says smoothly. βBut Iβm beginning to think bringing him tonight was a mistake.β
You raise an eyebrow. βOh?β
Bruceβs fingers just press slightly into your back as he guides you toward the stairs.
Someone near the front whispers βholy shit.β
Bruce leans closer, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, βYouβre lucky I like showing you off.β
The ballroom doors open and the noise hits immediately.
Soft orchestra music drifts through the air, glasses clink, and dozens of conversations overlap under the massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Gold light reflects off polished marble floors and crystal decorations, making the entire room feel expensive in a way that almost feels unreal.
Two businessmen pause mid-conversation. Someone actually walks into a passing waiter because they were looking at you instead of where they were going.
You lean a little closer to him, voice low. βAm I doing something wrong?β
Bruce glances down at you. βYouβre breathing,β he replies calmly. βApparently thatβs enough.β
You huff a quiet laugh.
A server passes with a tray of drinks and Bruce takes two glasses of champagne, handing one to you before stepping further into the crowd. Immediately, someone approaches. βBruce! Good to see you.β
A tall man in a navy suit steps forward, smile wide and practiced. Bruce recognizes him immediatelyβCEO of a major tech company that Wayne Enterprises has collaborated with more than once.
Bruce returns the smile easily. βLikewise.β
The manβs eyes flick to you. Then flick back. Then flick back again. ββ¦and you must beββ
Bruce places a steady hand on the small of your back again. βMy husband.β
The man blinks twice. βOh,β he says, slightly breathless. βRightβyes. I heard about that.β
You nod politely, offering a small smile thatβs friendly but reserved. Youβre not here to talk business. That much is obvious in the way you stay just slightly behind Bruceβs shoulder, close enough that his arm brushes yours every now and then.
Pretty.
Quiet.
Observant.
Like a trophy, by every visual standard.
Bruce continues the conversation easily, discussing investments and technology development like he always does. His tone stays relaxed, confident, smooth. But he notices something.
The CEO keeps glancing at you.
Not subtly or professionally at all.
Bruce pauses mid-sentence. ββ¦and the expansion in Singapore has been promising,β he says calmly.
The man nods quickly. βRight, rightβ of course.β His eyes drift back to you again.
Bruceβs thumb presses lightly against your lower back. Possessive. The man clears his throat. βYour husbandβ does he work in business as well?β
You open your mouth slightly, but Bruce answers first.
βHeβs a model.β
The reaction is immediate.
ββ¦that makes sense.β
You give Bruce a sideways look. Bruce ignores it and takes a sip of champagne.
More people approach as the night goes on. Executives. Investors. Old family acquaintances. Bruce moves through the room with practiced ease, shaking hands, exchanging polite conversation, discussing mergers and charity foundations and future partnerships. And through all of it you stay close.
You donβt interrupt. You donβt add much to the conversations. You mostly just stand beside him, calm and composed, occasionally offering a polite smile when someone addresses you. Bruce is midway through a discussion with two investors when one of them finally says it out loud.
βI have to admit,β the older man says, glancing between the two of you, βIβm having a hard time focusing on this conversation.β
Bruce lifts an eyebrow. βWhy?β
The man gestures vaguely toward you. βYour husband.β
You almost choke on your champagne.
Bruce slowly turns his head.
The man immediately backtracks. βNot like thatβ I meanβ well, actually I suppose exactly like that.β
His colleague snorts.
βYou married a very pretty man, Wayne.β
Bruceβs hand slides around your waist fully this time. βI know.β
You glance up at him, slightly amused. βFlattery will get you everywhere,β you murmur.
Bruce leans down just enough that only you hear his next words. βIβm not the one theyβre trying to flatter.β
βYou know youβre holding me really tight.β
βYouβre being stared at.β
You shrug lightly. βIβm used to it.β
Bruce exhales quietly. ββ¦I know.β
Another executive approaches. βBruce Wayne!β They shake hands. The conversation begins againβfinance, partnerships, global markets. You stand beside Bruce quietly like youβve been doing all night. But every few minutes Bruce catches someone looking at you again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually, he leans down toward your ear. βYouβre never coming to another gala with me again.β
You blink. βWhy?β
Bruce watches a nearby group of socialites very obviously whisper about you. ββ¦because apparently I canβt take you anywhere without causing a scene.β
You smile slightly and sip your champagne. βSounds like a you problem.β
Bruce huffs quietly.
He had never considered himself a jealous man.
Possessive, maybe.
Protective, definitely.
But jealous? Not really.
Yet standing in the middle of a glittering ballroom while what felt like half of Gotham openly ogling at his husband was testing that belief more than he expected.
Bruceβs jaw tightens while another executive talksβsomething about international expansion, numbers, contractsβbut he isnβt really listening anymore.
The champagne glass in his hand doesnβt move, but the vein along the back of his hand becomes a little more visible as his fingers tighten around the stem.
You shift slightly beside him, leaning a bit closer in that absent-minded way you always do when youβre bored. Bruce exhales slowly through his nose. This was beginning to be too much.
He finishes the conversation with a smooth, practiced smile.
ββ¦weβll continue this discussion next week.β
The man nods quickly, still distracted. βOf course. Absolutely.β
Bruce doesnβt wait for more small talk. His hand slides firmly around your wrist. You blink as he suddenly starts walking.
βBruce?β
Heβs already moving through the crowd. You stumble slightly trying to keep up with his long stride. βBruce, where are we going?β
βOut.β
You frown slightly. ββ¦out?β
He doesnβt slow down. People part naturally as Bruce walks through the ballroom with the quiet authority he carries everywhere. But more than a few heads turn as you follow close behind him.
Bruce pushes open the large doors leading outside. Cool night air replaces the warmth of the ballroom. The noise fades behind you instantly. You look back once at the doors, confused. Then back at him. βWhy are we leaving?β
He walks down the front steps toward the valet area. The vein on the back of his hand is still faintly visible as he adjusts his cuff. βYouβre bored.β
βIβm not bored.β
βYou were.β
You tilt your head slightly. βSeriously?β
He stops near the curb and raises two fingers slightly. A valet immediately jogs over. Bruce pulls out his wallet and slips the man a bill. Not a small one.
βBring the car around.β
The valetβs eyes widen slightly. βRight away, sir.β
He disappears quickly.
You fold your arms loosely. βYou usually stay at these things longer.β
Bruce doesnβt answer. He just looks out toward the street, jaw still faintly tight. You watch him for a moment then step closer. ββ¦Bruce.β
He exhales slowly. βYou were being stared at.β
You blink. βYeah? Iβm a model.β
βThat doesnβt make it better.β
You tilt your head slightly, genuinely confused. ββ¦why?β
Bruceβs hand runs slowly down his face before settling on your shoulder. βYou didnβt hear them?β
βHear who?β
βEveryone.β
βBut that happens to you all the time.β
Bruce lets out a quiet huff. βNot like that.β
The valet pulls the car around at that exact moment, stepping out quickly to open the back door. Bruce nods once to him. Then looks back at you. βGet in.β
You hesitate.
His hand settles on the small of your back again, guiding you gently toward the car. βIβll make it up to you.β
You pause halfway into the car. βMake what up to me?β
Bruce leans slightly closer, voice lower now. βLeaving early.β
You stare at him. ββ¦I didnβt ask you to make it up to me.β
βYouβre getting something anyway.β
You sit back against the leather seat slowly, watching him with mild suspicion. Bruce slides in beside you, the door closing behind him as the driver pulls away from the curb. For a moment the car is quiet. Then Bruce turns toward you.
βYou can have anything you want.β
βWhat?β
Bruce rests his arm along the back of the seat behind you. βA trip, new clothes.β
You squint slightly.
βAn island.β
βBruceββ
βAn exotic animal.β
βBruce.β
The thing is, heβs completely serious. You stare at him for a moment like heβs gone crazy. βWhy are you bribing me?β
Bruce looks out the window briefly. The city lights reflect across the glass. ββ¦because I wanted to leave.β
You tilt your head. βYou.. couldβve just said that.β
βYou looked good tonight.β
βWhat?β
Bruce shakes his head slightly, dismissing it.
βPick something.β
You lean back against the seat, smiling slightly. βAnything?β
Bruce nods once. βAnything.β
You watch him for another moment. Still slightly confused but definitely amused. ββ¦youβre so weird.β
Bruce exhales quietly. Maybe. But at least now the only person looking at you is him.
Wayne Manor is never completely quiet. Even late at night. The gala clothes had been discarded somewhere between the front hallway and the bedroom, jackets draped over furniture, ties loosened and forgotten.
Now the manor had settled into its usual nighttime rhythmβdim lights glowing in the long hallways, old wooden floors creaking faintly as the house cooled, the distant hum of Gotham far beyond the tall windows. And somewhere deeper in the manorβ
Voices.
Low, casual chatter drifting up through the floors. Dick laughing at something. Jason saying something sarcastic in return. Timβs voice occasionally cutting in. Damianβs clipped tone somewhere in the mix. The four of them were still awake, apparently gathered somewhere downstairs. Probably the kitchen. Or the living room.
Bruce didnβt bother checking.
Right now he had something far more distracting occupying his attention.
You.
Bruce lies back against the mattress wearing nothing but his boxers, one arm stretched lazily across the pillows while the other rests around your waist. The room is dim except for the warm glow of the bedside lamp.
Youβre sprawled comfortably on top of him. Your weight presses lightly against his stomach, one leg thrown over his thigh while your head rests near his shoulder.
One of your hands slowly traces across the broad plane of his chest, your fingertip moving idly over muscle like youβre drawing invisible shapes. Bruce watches you quietly.
Your finger drifts down his sternum.
Back up again.
Across one of the faint scars he has there.
You pause on that one for a second before continuing. Bruceβs chest rises slowly under your hand as he breathes. βThe arrangements are already being handled.β
You glance up at him. βAlready?β
Bruceβs thumb slowly brushes along your side where his hand rests against your waist. βI made a call.β
βYou made a call likeβ¦ ten minutes after we got in the car.β
Bruce shrugs faintly against the mattress. βIβm efficient.β
You huff a quiet laugh. Your finger resumes its slow wandering across his chest, tracing over the faint line of muscle near his collarbone now.
Downstairs someone laughs loudlyβJason, probablyβand Tim immediately tells him to shut up. The noise drifts faintly through the house. Bruce barely hears it. Heβs watching you.
Youβre completely relaxed now. Hair a little messy from earlier, shirt half-buttoned where you clearly gave up at some point, still looking annoyingly pretty.
Your finger slides over his collarbone. βYouβre dramatic, you know that?β
His hand slides a little higher up your back, his palm warm against your skin. Bruce stares at the ceiling for a moment.
You really are that oblivious sometimes.
He looks down at you and his voice lowers. βOne of them called you sexy.β
You stare at him for a moment. Then slowly smile.
βOh.β
Bruceβs eyebrow twitches. βOh?β
You rest your chin lightly against his chest now, looking up at him with clear amusement. ββ¦you were jealous.β
Bruce scoffs quietly. βI was not.β
You grin wider. βYou left an entire charity gala early.β
βThey were being inappropriate.β
βYou offered me an island. Youβre so jealous.β
His hand slides up your back and settles at the back of your neck, fingers lightly threading into your hair. βYouβre never going out with me again.β
You snort quietly. βWhatever. I like when you get jealous.β
βI wasnβt jealous.β
βThe veins in your hands said otherwise.β
βThat was irritation.β
βMhm?β
His thumb brushes slowly along the side of your neck. βI prefer you here.β
You suddenly blink. ββ¦in bed?β
βYes.β
You laugh softly. βThatβs very specific.β
Bruce shrugs slightly beneath you. βYouβre quieter here.β
You tilt your head, teasing. βReally? I swear, usually Iβm loud.β
Bruce freezes for a fraction of a second at your implication, eyes darkening just slightly before a small smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. Without a word, his hand moves down and lands on the curve of your ass.
You yip softly, just enough for him to grin. The sound is more amused than in pain, and he gives another, slightly firmer pat.
βI said quieter,β he murmurs, voice low and controlled, though thereβs no real anger in it.
You press yourself closer, smirking up at him. ββ¦I guess Iβll behave.β
βGood. Stay that way.β
You bite your lip and grin. ββ¦Yes, sir.β
Bruce shifts and wraps both arms around you, pulling you even closer. He nuzzles his face against your neck and murmurs, βYouβre infuriatingly pretty.β
ππππππππ. male reader γ³ corenswet!clark γ³ established relationship γ³top!clark γ³ bottom!reader γ³ cockwarming γ³ size kink γ³ belly bulging γ³ cumplay γ³ overstimulation γ³ deep penetration γ³ worship (of readerβs body + clarkβs body) γ³ soft dom!clark γ³ dirty talk γ³ fingering γ³ muscle kink γ³rimming (r!receiving) γ³body worship γ³ post-sex intimacy γ³ reader has a gaping, cum-leaking hole γ³ clark cums a lot
What the Body Remembers
He kisses you like heβs sorry he wants you this much.
Fucks you like he never learned how to stop needing.
Clark Kent isnβt unaware of his bodyβthe strength of it, the size, the way people lookβbut he never uses it to dominate. Not unless you ask.
Not unless you beg.
When heβs inside you, heβs not a god or a weapon. Heβs a man. One who loves you, fills you, touches you like a prayer said every night in private.
One who breaks your body open with reverence, and then makes pancakes.
This is what itβs like to be undone by Superman.
Muscle Memory
He fucks you slowly at first, like he's afraid of being too much.
He knows how big he is, how your stomach bulges when he presses in just right. He sees the way your back arches, the way your mouth parts, trembling and breathless, already stuffed so full of him. And he still asks if you're okay. Always. Softly. A kiss at your temple, even while you're shaking.
But then there's the moment he hears your breath hitch and sees you look down. Sees you watching your own belly stretch with the obscene outline of his cock. Something flips. That quiet awe in his chest turns into hunger.
He rocks into you harder, the bed frame groaning under both your bodies. He watches your thighs start to quiver. Watches your hands scrabble for anythingβhim, the sheets, your own cockβ and he doesnβt stop. Just breathes heavy and praises you, voice thick with arousal.
βYou take me so good, baby,β he whispers. βEvery time, I swear, you fit around me like you were made to. Just perfect.β
Worship
Sometimes heβll slow down just to admire you like this. Not during foreplayβno, during. When you're already panting under him, hips slick and hole drooling with the stretch, and his cock keeps pressing deeper.
He palms your thighs with reverence, kisses down your chest like youβre some sacred thing. Big hands spreading your legs wider. Thumbs digging into the softest parts of you. Heβll murmur things under his breath that make your skin feel hot and holy.
βLove your body,β he says. βSo soft. So pretty. All mine.
And when you clench around him at the praise, he fucking smiles.
Making His Mark
He cums too much. Always has. The first time he stayed the night, you woke up sore and leaking and still fullβbecause youβd passed out before heβd even finished cleaning you up. Kryptonian stamina.
He apologized with breakfast in bed and a guilty smile, but when you told him you liked it, he blushed so hard it reached his ears
Now itβs become part of the routine. Every time he finishes, he stays inside, grinding in shallow, greedy circles like heβs trying to fuck it all in deeper. The sheets stained, your thighs sticky, your hole raw and red and dripping down the curve of your ass.
He watches you try to crawl away, boneless and overstimulated
βYou canβt justβ¦ fill me like that,β you mutter, dizzy.
βYouβre right,β he says. βI should do it again.β
Spent
He loves looking at you after. Really looking. Your chest rising and falling in slow, wrecked rhythm. Your lips parted, your eyes glazed, your thighs still twitching from the aftershocks. His cum leaking from your hole in thick, messy ropes, all down your skin, soaking into the sheets. You always look ruined, used, perfect.
He touches you like heβs not sure he deserves the sight. Just drags a hand down your chest, your thigh, breath caught in his throat. Youβre gaping, still stretched wide around the memory of him, and he swears under his breath every time.
He brings a hand between your legs and drags two fingers through the mess. Shudders when you whimper from the touch.
βJesus,β he whispers. βLook what I did to you.β
Muscle Memory II
Clarkβs a big man. And when you worship himβreally let your hands explore the stretch of his abs, the thick strength of his thighs, the wide expanse of his chestβhe gets flustered. Because he doesnβt expect it. He doesnβt think you see him like that. But you do.
You kiss the line of his stomach, trace your tongue up to the cleft between his pecs, and he sucks in a breath every time.
βYouβre beautiful,β you say.
He huffs out a laugh, ducking his head. βYou think so?β
You palm him through his briefsβheavy, half-hard, already hugeβ and smile up at him.
βI know so.β
When you finally get him naked, you take your time. You kneel between his legs, run your hands across every inch of that body, skin warm and golden under your palms. You stroke his cock slowβlong, thick, flushed pink at the tipβand tell him how good he looks like this, hard and wanting for you.
βI want you inside me,β you whisper. βWant you to fuck me open with this big fucking thing. Want you to fill your boyfriend with all that cum until itβs dripping out of me.β
His breath hitches. And then he gives you exactly what you asked for.
"Sweet heaven."
Where You Go Softest
Thereβs something about your body that Clark loves with aching intensity. Your thighs, especially. He says theyβre his favorite place to rest his head, his hands, his mouth. Youβve seen him fuck himself stupid just from the sight of you spread open, thighs trembling, your cock flushed and leaking against your belly.
He grabs handfuls of your ass while he thrusts, steady and deep, burying his face in your neck to muffle the sounds he makes. Sometimes he just moans your name like a broken prayer.
βCould stay inside you forever,β he pants. βYou feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Squeezing me like that, fuck.β
And when heβs just eating you out? Forget it. Heβs obsessed. Tongue buried in your hole, big hands pinning your hips down, leaving finger-shaped bruises across your ass as he devours you like heβs starved. He doesnβt stop until your cockβs twitching untouched on your stomach and your thighs are shaking around his ears.
Without Harm
When he holds you down, itβs not with force. Itβs with care.
Clark cradles your waist with one hand, the other under your ass to angle your hips up, and itβs almost absurd how easy it is for him to manhandle you. He could bend you in half with one arm, pin your wrists above your head with a single hand, keep you in place while his cock drills deep.
But he never rushes.
Even when heβs fucking you hard: sweat beading at his temples, his broad chest slick and flexing over yoursβhe checks in. A hand brushing your cheek. A kiss between thrusts. A question, murmured against your throat.
βStill good, baby? Can you take more?β
You always say yes. Even when your bodyβs shaking. Even when your hole is raw and stretched wide open, swallowing him deeper than you ever thought you could take.
He presses a hand to your lower belly and moans when he feels himself inside you.
βGod. Thatβs me.β
Overflow
Clark doesnβt need toys. Doesnβt need anything but you on your back, legs spread, begging him to go slow while your body contradicts you and sucks him in.
Heβs thick from tip to base, flushed and heavy, the kind of cock that curves just enough to ruin you. Youβve never been able to take him all at once, not without working up to it. He helps; spit, fingers, gentle coaxingβand still, every time, your body trembles when he breaches you.
βYouβre doing so good,β he whispers, rocking his hips. βLet me in. Let me fill you up.β
And he does.
You feel him for hours after. His cum drips out of you long after heβs pulled outβthick, cloudy, sticky strings that leave you ruined between the legs. Sometimes you canβt even close your thighs properly. Sometimes he doesnβt pull out at all.
Youβll feel it trickle out when youβre washing dishes or putting on pants, and heβll catch you pausing with a faraway look in your eyes and murmur, βStill leaking?β
Evidence of Him
He never tires of seeing you like this.
Sprawled out beneath him, wrecked. Limbs slack. Hole gaping. His come dripping out in slow, shiny streaks down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs.
Clark watches. He runs his hand down your spine, dips his fingers between your cheeks, and hums at the sight of your trembling rim, twitching open, pink and raw and leaking. He never says much. Just soft sounds of awe.
A whispered βChrist,β maybe, or βYou look perfect like this.β
Sometimes he spreads you open again just to see it.
To see how loose you are. How thoroughly heβs fucked you. How your hole flutters like it misses him already.
βYou need me again?β he asks, almost innocent. Thumb still dragging through the mess he left.
You nod. Of course you do.
Heβs already hard again.
The Unravel
It doesnβt take long to unravel.
Clark can take you standing up, bent over the sink, pressed against the wall, or face down in bed with a pillow under your hips. Every angle stretches you in new ways. Every time feels like the first time.
Sometimes itβs fast. Youβre soaked already, hungry for him, and heβs in you with one smooth thrust. Sometimes itβs slower. Long strokes, deep grinding, his hand around your cock while he fills you.
Your body doesnβt know what to do with him. It tries to reject the stretch, even as your moans get louder, your back arches, your legs shake.
And when you come: ruined, overstimulated, voice cracking from how hard you cry out. Clark follows with a deep, full groan.
He never pulls out.
Rest, Ripe, and Heavy
Afterward, heβs always starving.
Youβre still trying to catch your breath, still aching and loose and wrecked, and Clarkβs already pulling on a pair of sweats, padding barefoot into the kitchen. You call after him.
βCan you give me like five minutes before you start making dinner?β
He pops his head back in, cheeks pink, curls messy.
βI wasnβt gonna make dinner,β he says. βJust a snack.β
You laugh, rubbing your stomach. βYou just blew my back out.β
He shrugs, sheepish. βIβm still a growing boy.β
You roll your eyes and tell him to come back to bed, and he does, climbing under the sheets with you, hand pressed to your belly, whispering heβs sorry for how sore youβll be tomorrow.
Heβs not sorry.
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
pairings: tim drake x male!reader, british!reader, batfam x platonic!reader, batfam x male!reader
content: light swearing, makeout session, brief suggestive language (in a joking matter)
summary: tim drake's long-distance boyfriend comes along for a beach trip with his family!
note: please ignore the fact that bruce isn't present. that was an accident, i swear. he's there in spirit, okay?
word count: 3k
Being in a long distance relationship was never on Timothy Drake's to-do list, but in the long run, it seemed to work out just fine. From all of the late nights on patrol, to all of the long days studying case files and filling out reports, Tim found that it was better talking over the phone with his lover than having them close where his presence was needed constantly.
Now, this didn't mean that Tim didn't struggle with the distance. He called his lover every dayβsometimes multiple times a day, not that he'd say that out loud. So when he and his boyfriend did meet up in person on special occasions, he was the happiest person aliveβand his schedule would be completely cleared.
Bruce had informed all of his children--the non-adopted ones being included, too, that is--that he'd planned a boating trip for all of them at Pearl Beach. Tim knew that your classes wouldn't start until August, so his first question for Bruce was if he could bring you, and his second question was to Alfredβcan you book his flights?
Now, as Tim waited for you at the airport, he was giddy as can be. He had picked up a stuffed animal and your favorite coffee order and waited by your gate. He was relieved that none of his siblings had accompanied him, positive that they'd tease him about it relentlessly.
And there you were, walking through the crowd of people with your eyes darting around almost frantically. Then they landed on him. Your Tim. You all but sprinted in his direction, throwing your arms around him despite the fact that he was holding a drink and a gift bag.
You buried your face in his neck on instinct, and he squeezed you tightly around the waist. How long had it been? Four months? Five? Too long, you thought to yourself.
Tim pulled away, but not before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Too brief for your liking, but it was better than what you had received lately.
βCome on,β he said. βThey're waiting at the dock.β
The boat waiting at the dock was nice and very clearly expensive. Why wouldn't it be? This was Bruce Wayne, after all. Everything he did was expensive.
This was the first time you had been in one space with this much of Tim's family at once. You had met some of them while hanging out at the manor, or Tim had introduced you to them through the phone while you were on one end of the face time call and he was on the other. But now you were here with them and it made everything feel so real. Like that you belonged there with them.
Tim climbed onto the boat first. He took your hand and let you walk in after him. He squeezed your hand tightlyβan anchor. He wouldn't let you fall.
Okay, so maybe it's a bit embarrassing that you're nineteen and can't swim. Your excuse was something along the lines of, βWe don't swim in the UK!β Tim had laughed hysterically.
You took a seat next to Tim on one of the benches on the boat, leaning into him as he wrapped his arm around you and let it rest behind you. The wind felt nice, blowing through your hair while the salty water sent a gentle mist over your skin. Oh, you could get used to this.
You could also get used to the way that Tim looked in the summer. Tan. Wearing less clothes than usual. When was the last time you had seen his knees? You weren't sure, but you knew that you wanted to see more of them. More of him.
Your head tipped back on Tim's shoulder, looking up at him as he spoke with his siblings. You tuned in just enough to hear that he was actually arguing. With Damian. No surprises there, but you thought that they might tone it down a bit while on vacation. Guess not.
βYou can't possibly claim to be even slightly skilled in Mortal Kombat. I've beaten you four out of five times on averageββ
βThat's because I know how to spend my time, Drake. Maybe that pile of files on your desk would shrink if you quit playing video games,β the youngest Wayne quipped, and you could hear the smugness in his voice. βBesides, who cares about who wins in a video game? I win in real combat, something you would know nothing of.β
And Tim was quiet for a moment. You could feel him laugh more than hear itβthe small puff of his chest. These were the βvigilantesβ that were so feared in Gotham. They didn't seem very scary to you.
βYou know, Damian, I could kick your ass right here, right now, but I'm a little occupied at the moment.β He gestured lightly to you. βJust wait until we pull up to the beach. Be ready.β
βYou should be ready, Drake,β Damian said, crossing his arms. βI brought my sword in case something like this happened.β
βCan we not?β Someone asked, and you realized it was Dick. He was sitting on the edge of the boat, facing the water, but he turned back just enough to give both Damian and Tim a look. They both went silent.
You silenced your laugh, but your smile couldn't be contained.
βWhat're you smiling for?β Tim asked, and he was smiling, too. He hadn't stopped since you'd arrived. You weren't sure if he knew that he was, but you didn't want it to stop. βIs something funny?β He pinched your side and you twisted away out of instinct. He locked his arm around your waist and pinched your side again, harder this time. You squirmed and tried to break free, but this was a vigilante you were going against. You didn't stand a chance.
Stephanie gagged theatrically as she walked by, and Jasonβyou knew from the scars and white bangsβhuffed dramatically.
βOh, quit pouting,β Tim said, and he pinched your side again, digging his fingers in harder. You laughed uncontrollably and Tim just kept talking as if he wasn't torturing you. βYou're just mad because Roy is busy and couldn't come.β
βNo, I'm not,β Jason countered, leaning over the edge of the boat and looking at the water poetically. Tim had always said he was a drama queen. He was right.
βSure,β Tim muttered with an eye roll. Then he looked at Dick. βWhat about Kori? She didn't want to come?β
βShe had plans with Donna,β the acrobat explained while he opened a cooler, taking out a Sprite and taking a big swig. βGive him a break, Tim. I don't think he can breathe.β
βHe's fine,β Tim said, but he finally pulled his hand away, chuckling to himself as you slumped against him, elbowing your mischievous boyfriend in the side as payback.
Dick shook his head, muttering something before sitting next to Damian and speaking with him.
Everyone seemed to be doing their own thingβeither lounging on the boat, speaking quietly with one another, or eating some of the snacks Alfred had packed. It was all so peaceful. You couldn't help but wonder how often this peace lasted, them being vigilantes and all. You figured that once this trip was over, they'd go right back to risking their lives for the greater good without another thought. These moments probably mean a lot, you thought to yourself. How could they not? A minute of silence feels like an eternity in a day full of noise.
The beach came into view. Everyone seemed to wake up a bit, either talking louder, or⦠jumping into the water before the boat was even parked? You could hear Bruce from the front, already scolding them. They'd probably been told to wait until the boat was still. Tim patted your shoulder twice and took his shirt off before diving off the side of the boat. You immediately turned and looked over the edge, waiting for his head to bob up from the water. Once it did, you glared at him.
βDon't do that!β You were somewhat joking, but your voice was obviously filled with a little bit of panic. Knowing Tim, he was probably going to do it twenty more times. For good measure, he'd say.
βCome on!β he shouted, running a hand through his wet hair andβOh, you were already ruined. He looked like a god. All tanned muscles, water dripping down soft skin. He looked good enough to eat--just a small bite. You were starving. βThe water feels great!β
You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again, swallowed, and then said a silent prayer. For restraint. βI'll wait till we get closer to the beach!β you managed to say, but your mouth felt as dry as the Sahara.
The boat came to a full stop, and you climbed down the ladder and planted your sandal-clad feet into the sand. It was warm, soft, welcoming. Nothing back home could compare to this. It was all cold, sharp edges, and rainy, dim shadows. Nothing was ever gentle. Nothing was ever kind. This was both and everything else good.
Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.
Tim suddenly appeared in your vision, walking up towards the beach from the water. He shook his hair, stretching his arms up and putting those pretty abs on full display. Your stomach flipped without permission.
And then he was in front of you. One hand landed on your waist and the other ran through his hair again. It was like he knew what he was doing, getting you all riled up. But dammit, you loved it.
Tim brought his hand to your face and ran his hand through your hair, letting his finger run behind your ear and down your neck. You were so screwed.
βYou're blushing,β he whispered. Too close. Too hot. Too fucking hot.
You threw all of your instincts as far away as possible. Who cares if you can't swim? You needed to get away before you exploded.
βI'm gonna swim,β you said quietly. Too fast. Too frantic. And you stepped out of your sandals and walked straight into the water, shirt still on. The water hit your waist. A comfortable depth. But you kept going. You needed to cool down. You needed to get away from your outrageously attractive boyfriend.
The water hit your chest and you panicked, arms flailing desperately. In hindsight, it was embarrassing. Even Damian was out further than you. Everyone was. You didn't care at the moment. Tim watched from the shore, laughing shamelessly.
You were drowning and he was laughing.
βTim,β you choked out, splashing harder. βHelpββ
He sighed, shook his head, and started walking into the water. He stopped in front of you while you jerked like a fish out of water. You immediately wrapped your arms around his frameβsolid and warm and hard and smooth and touchable and kissable...
βYou okay there?β he asked in that smug voice that he uses when he's about to be condescending. Is it bad to think it's hot? You don't care. Not when he's tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at you. Not when his hands are sliding up and down your sides beneath your shirt. Not when he's making your throat close up just by being him.
βMhm,β you forced out, but you still clung to him like a lifeline. And you were so close to him. And he was touching you and holding you and even the water seemed to get warmer when he was in it.
Tim gripped your sides and forced you to stand up right, maintaining that patronizing eye contactβas if he was saying, βSee? It's not that hard.β And screw every part of you that thought that it was hot.
But then you realized that the water was barely to your ribs. You had almost drowned⦠in water that was barely to your ribs. Your face grew hotter.
βYou're so cute when you're embarrassed,β he said, and when you averted his gaze, he pressed his thumb under your jaw, forcing your attention on him. Oh, it was on him alright.
βCome on. I wanna show you something.β
Your back hit the hard wood of the tree as Tim shoved you against it, but his hand cradled the back of your head so that it didn't take any of the force. His lips were on yours in a millisecond, hands slipping under your shirt to knead at whatever skin he could find.
You were a dizzy, breathless mess within a minute, but Tim had no intentions of stopping yet. He gave your lips a break so that you could get some air while his mouth moved to your jaw, kissing and nipping his way down your neck. You fisted your hands in his shirt, trying to ground yourself as he assaulted your senses.
Tim pulled away for a second, still holding your waist and looking down at your neck. You dropped your head to his shoulder, panting and trembling from his onslaught.
βA little privacy would be nice, Cass,β he said, not even bothering to look behind him. You couldn't see her, and you knew better than to try. Tim had told you that she tended to lurk in the shadows, never fully making her presence known.
Once Tim was sure that you were alone again, his lips were back on your skin, this time kissing that place behind your ear that he knew ruined you.
βTimββ you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping his shirt tighter. Your body was hot all over, and he was crowding you from all sides. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.
βYeah, babe?β he asked, but he didn't stop. He let his hand glide over your stomach, fingernails raking over your skin. He chuckled against your neck when you tensed up.
A small hum was all you could get out, and you could feel him smirking against your skin. He was always so smug with it. He knew how to abuse your weak spots, and then he'd laugh at you for reacting. It was a cruel, cruel game, one that you had no intention of stopping.
βI know,β he whispered, and it made your stomach twist. He pressed a long kiss to your throat before pulling away. βCome on. They're gonna start wondering where we went.β
He grabbed your hand and started walking away, but your wobbly legs had other plans. You stumbled through the grass and sand, still breathing hard.
Tim turned back to you and laughed. βReally? Just from a few kisses?β he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.
βShut up,β you retorted, giving him a glare that held no malice.
You could hear laughter and yelling as you reached the shore, and Tim immediately jumped in excitement when he saw what was happening.
βHave you ever played chicken fight?β
You shook your head. Americans, you thought to yourself.
βCome on. You can be on top.β
Now that's something you don't hear often.
Tim crouched in the water and helped you climb onto his shoulders, and you gripped his hair for dear life, not wanting to fall backwards. Little did you knowβ¦
Stephanie was on Duke's shoulders across from you, an evil expression on your face.
βOkay,β Tim began explaining, βthe point of the game is to not fall off of your partner's shoulders. You and Steph have to try to shove each other into the water. Duke and I can't help with thatβwe just hold you up. So you just try to push her off, okay?β
What the hell is this game?
Before you could answer, Stephanie was in front of you, arms outstretched as Duke came closer. Tim moved forwards at full force, and you were far from ready. Your balance was terrible, but you were determined not to give up.
Steph pushed you once and you were in the water.
Tim was laughing when he pulled you out of the water, looking at you with endearment. His eyes raked you up and down, and his eyebrows furrowed. The thinking face.
That can't be good.
βDick! Jay!β Tim called. βWanna play chicken fight?β
They started swimming over, and Tim's expression turned evil. You knew that look. It was the one that he wore when he was up to no goodβwhich was pretty often, actually.
βYou can be on Dick's shoulders. I'll get Jason.β
Now you had to go against Tim. Great. You figured you should practice holding your breath instead of worrying about the shoving part.
Dick helped you onto his shoulders, and you watched as Tim climbed onto Jason's. You felt slightly more prepared this time. Not that you were, but you knew what you were up against.
At least you thought you did.
Jason and Dick both charged at full force, and Tim immediately began pushing you. But you pushed back, trying your hardest to get Tim to fall.
In the end, Tim pushed you off of Dick's shoulders with ease. But hey, this time you got a few good shoves in. Better to try, right?
βDinner's ready!β Alfred called from the boat, and you and Tim both made your way to the bench you had used this morning.
Tim grabbed food for both of you, placing your plate in your lap. This was also something you appreciated. Alfred's cooking was much better than the food you ate at home. Everything was always so bland and boring. It seemed like everything was more bright and warm and colorful here. Or maybe that was just because of Tim.
You took three bites before a yawn fell from your lips, and Tim raised an eyebrow at you. βTired already?β
You suppressed another yawn and shook your head. You were exhausted, though. You had an early flight, no rest afterwards, and then spent an entire day at the beach. You were bound to be a bit tired.
You let your head fall onto Tim's shoulder, and then you were out like a light. He shifted you to lay your head in his lap, and he draped a towel over your frame as you slept.
βAww,β Dick said softly. βThe big bad Tim Drake is whipped.β
Tim didn't even try to deny it. He knew that he was so insanely down bad for you, and he didn't care if the whole world knew it. Because you were his, and that was all that mattered.
ten year old Tim Drake having a minor phase of liking archeology bcs of his parents so he starts digging shit up in his garden, but because heβs Tim Fucking Drake he does it too well and accidentally unearths one of the tunnels that connects to the fucking batcave.
ten year old Tim Drake who already knew who Batman and Robin were, finding out he now has a secret tunnel in his garden connecting his house to their lair, and heβs just like βfuck yeah thatβs cool.β and starts exploring.
thirteen year old Jason Todd bored and fucking around alone in the batcave system when he comes across a fucking ten year old who knows his identity, clearly idolises the hell out of him, and is just kinda wandering around the cave system alone and completely chill about it. they see a super dangerous spider and Tim just starts info-dumping on the species. when asked if he has a curfew to go back home by he goes βuh, July i guess? thatβs when mom and dad get back.β it is early February.
thirteen year old Jason Todd who takes a minute and then goes βok this is funny as fuck i promise i wonβt snitch to Bruce.β
Jason Todd and Tim Drake being secret cave buddies. Jason Todd and Tim Drake hanging out in the tunnels and making fun of Batman and Nightwing from the shadows. Tim Drake who has to buy a whole new set of night-vision camera lenses for his new photo album thatβs just photos and selfies of him and his new best friend Robin fucking around in the underground pitch-dark.
Jason Todd who dies, gets revived, is told by Talia that Tim Drake has βreplaced himβ unknowing theyβre already friends, and Jason who all he can think of is that time they played hide and seek in the cave system and Tim clung to the fucking ceiling via a stalactite for 45 minutes straight. Jason Todd who just looks at Talia and goes βyeah sounds about right for him.β
Jason Todd being told he has to deliver Damian to Bruce and he decides βabsolutely the fuck notβ to the idea of even touching the front door. they have a Ring camera he is not getting caught on that bullshit.
Jason Todd who just goes to Drake Manor and uses Timβs old entrance to get into the tunnels, his home away from home, dragging Damian along, until he gets to a spot where he can secretly signal into the batcave for Tim to sneak the fuck away.
fifteen year old Tim Drake who gets called into the tunnels to find the Red Hood, unmasked as Jason, presenting to him a random child which he declares to be the son of Batman.
fifteen year old Tim Drake who comes full circle and says βok this is funny as fuck i promise i wonβt snitch to Bruce.β
the cave boys are reunited. a third is added to the club. a new photo album is filled. when Tim brings Damian up through the tunnels into the cave he looks Bruce dead in the eyes and says fully straight-faced βthis is your cave son. i found him wandering, he was born from the shadows of the bat.β
eleven year old Damian Al Ghul-Wayne whoβs spent the past three and a half years under Jason Toddβs influence and sombrely declares βthe cave birthed me for you, father. i am darkness. i am your child.β
heyy!!! you there!!! I made an AO3 skin!!! made isn't the right word, I snatched the code from smarter people and messed with it. but if you like it, the code is here!
its an altered version of this green fireflies one
im really proud of this for no reason all i did was change the colors but anyways you guys should still reblog if you use it definitely id be very happy :)))))))))
edit: oh my god fine. it's not copy and paste anymore fine okay?? here's the link to github. for fuck's sake guys π
It was a bratty prince(reader) who LOVES jewelry and got married to another prince(oc Iβm pretty sure) and they lwk get into arguments n stuff and there was angst fluff and smut(GOOD SMUT π€€) and like I remember a very specific scene where mreader and the oc were looking for info and they end up at a orgy kinda place?? Idfk but they lwk started getting freaky while others kinda watched and then they went home and had a happy ending cus they got what they were looking for OH and it was multiple parts im pretty sure
If anyone could help me find this it would be very appreciated π₯Ή
GUYS I THIBK I FOUND IT!!!! ILL READ IT AND LET U KNOW
[ oka i felt really motivated to make more of this and i really didnt wanna study for a test i have tomorrow in one of my classes... ]
[ also i got a comment saying i should either do hakari AND kirara as love interests or ino to which i say i like that so i turn the decision onto you guys π₯Ή]
created with yuji itadori in mind but i literally used his name once so its really up to reader interp.
not proofread and etc
β
he was inside of you.
you clenched your teeth, hard.
the way your tongue rubbed softly against the roof of your mouth made everything buzzβin a way, mirroring the pressure at your center that numbed your mind.
your skin was on fire.
"shh... you're doing so good.." he paused, inhaling a short breath. "all tight and messy for me."
the praise traveled beside your ear, swirling underneath your skin and through your vision as tearsβblurred and unfocused.
heβyour worst fucking enemy and βstain on your existence,β as you put itβchuckled softlyβalmost giggling with satisfaction. he pulled back from you, a trail of cold following goosebumps that climbed in circles down your back.
he, as soft as the kisses that heβd outlined your face, neck, and chest with; pressed his palm against your neck.
his fingers cradled the sides of your neck, thumb and middle pressing in on your veins, not yet squeezing with his entire hand. βy..yβknow..β
he inhaled, slamming his hips against the cushion of your ass, suddenly stopping his thrust to press fully within your heat. βsshiitβ¦! youβyouβre gonna make meβ¦β at the same time, leaning over to press both his fist into your bed.
your eyes rolled, disappearing upward as you crashed into the sheets, overstimulated and quivering.
silence filled your room for all of a second.
you reeled, heaving incorrectly.
your neck burned where his fingers once were.
your mind rang with a soft fuzzy sensation. your thoughts werenβt forming how you wanted. instead, all focusing on the weight in your gut, pressing in every direction.
you hated how full you were.
you hates how your legs trembled, weak with pleasure.
you hated how he was so, so deep.
you hated how you wanted more.
but, he was already fully inside. planted so deep you could feel the annoying warmth of his hips; pressing harsh against your ass.
his pubes, the stubble of his happy trail, the heat of his bodyβit was all so annoying.
you thoughts brokeβall at once when he pressed closer.
it sent fire cascading in lazy arcs down your face. βahh!β
he chuckled, βyou still there?β
his voice sounded different. usually high pitched, annoying, and obnoxiousβit was almost unrecognizable. βnng. fuckβ¦ can I move?β the words were smooth, contrasting with the rough, worn, and almost intoxicating baritone of his voice.
your head spun under him.
you didnβt respond verbally. you didnβt think. you just moved, chasing a high only he could provide.
pushing your hips up, you slid impossibly closer.
his shaft pulsed inside of you, making you feel like you could burst from the pressure alone. βmmh!!β his tip hammered against the bottom of your hole, shoving upward and cramming against your stomach.
you heard him groan, the sound echoing against the four walls of your room. βoh my godβ¦β
his hands found their way to your waist, fingers hooking against your v-line and thumbs rubbing circles against the low of your back.
he shifted his hips left, moving barely an inch but you felt so much more.
his tip shifted, his veins thrummed against your walls, he moaned outloudβand the underside of his dick pressed flush against your prostate.
stars flooded your vision.
he swayed right, dragging his entire weight to the opposite side of you.
you felt your throat constrict. the feeling was indescribable:
you couldnβt decide if you felt fullβthe pressure on your prostate still there even if heβd released, stretching your hole to the opposite side.
maybe you felt tense. all the muscles in your body contacted at once, curling your toes and grasping at the sheets underneath your palms.
heat? or a burning exhaustion? at your base coiled a feeling of aching warmth. it ran along your nerves, dancing in hot embers just under your skin, belting into your tip before rolling back and up to your stomach; pressing against the stretch still deforming your stomach.
maybe thatβs what it was: stretch.
your hole was stretched to its most, struggling to contain his girth.
your walls had never housed such a monsterous presence. your fingers couldnβt compare, your toys didnβt come close; nothing would ever stretch you like he was doing.
β[nameβ¦]β
he said your name in a sing-song manner, liquid lust dropping from each syllable. βyou didnβt pass out, did you?β
you felt the muscles in your eyes strain, wanting to roll but unable to find the strength.
he groaned, like he teetering on the edge of bliss. βcβmonnβ¦β he whined as he rolled his hips into you, the movement only further straining your eyes as they tried to roll back.
βit feels too goodβ¦thereβs no way your out.β his left hand left your hip, sliding along your side before twisting in your hair. βyouβre gripping me too tightβ¦ loosen up or Iβm gonna cum.β
easier said than done.
he shifted his fingers, wrapping himself deeper before yanking back in one motion.
βnggh!! yuuji!!β
you felt the warmth of his smile. βthere you are!!β
your back arched, uncomfortable and too far as he pulled you closer to him. βyou hear me? youβre wayy too tightβ¦β
he slowly drew his hips away from yours, hissing lightly the entire time. βmm, fuckβ¦ you gonna give me my dick back, orβ¦?β
heat bloomed across your chest, spreading upward with each harsh drum of your heartbeat.
he had fully excavated from you, leaving only his tip to plug your warmth, keeping everything inside.
with one swift motion he was back inside, hitting deeper than before and somehow spreading your muscles further.
βI guess not.β
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