Eden.

she/her | 🪷

[teethofeden]

Call me Eden! 20. She/Her. Aquarius. Brazilian. I have a degree in Interior Design but I'm currently studying to work in social services. Metalhead. Gamer. Motorsports. Crochet. Drawing. Sleep Token worshipper. I write x reader fics for DCU and sometimes other fandoms too.

This is a safe space for POC and LGBTQIA+ community. FUCK ICE! FREE PALESTINE! <3

Feel free to send requests (or just chat in general) :D

── .✦

[teethofeden]

Random convos you'd have with them.

featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne.

Content: Fluff. Few curse words. Implied relationship.

N/A: These are real convos I've had with my boyfriend and I thought it would be funny to turn into a SMAU, I hope these make sense bc I had to translate from portuguese. 😭

[teethofeden]

+500 PEOPLE LIKED THIS WTF IS GOING ON OMG THANK YOU?????

[teethofeden]

Since you did a smau in portugese could u do one in argentinian spanish??

unfortunately i don't speak spanish so i don't think I'd be able to do that, anon 🥺 but I'll keep it in mind!! maybe someday I can try to write something along those lines <3

(i wrote the other one in portuguese bc it's my first language!!)

[teethofeden]

Hii do you think you could ever make smau’s in portuguese? I’m learning portuguese and it would be a really fun way to practice!

Sorry if its a weird ask 😭😭

They're trying to learn your mother tongue!

Featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne and Duke Thomas.

Content: Fluff. SMAU. A bunch of words in portuguese.

N/A: OMG YESYES THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!! i tried to make these in the best way possible but it can get a little confusing, so you might want to write some things down and search it later lol! IM REALLY SORRY IF THIS IS BAD 😭

Dick Grayson:

Bruce Wayne:

Jason Todd:

Duke Thomas:

── .✦ Eden.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

JACYYYY I love your writing so hear me out:

Batfamily smau where Reader gets too honest (and a little mean) when she's drunk, and that's how they realizes she's had a few drinks 🤫

Are you drunk?

featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Bruce Wayne

warning: suggestive (MDNI!!), drunk reader, fluff!

A/N: EDENNNNN HIIII !!!!! Thank you thank you thank youuuu and I hope you like this <33 Your Idea is amazingggg!!

✧˖° 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑠𝑜𝑛

✧˖° 𝐽𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑑

✧˖° 𝑇𝑖𝑚 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑘𝑒

✧˖° 𝐷𝑢𝑘𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑠

✧˖° 𝐵𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒

[teethofeden]

Random convos you'd have with them.

featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne.

Content: Fluff. Few curse words. Implied relationship.

N/A: These are real convos I've had with my boyfriend and I thought it would be funny to turn into a SMAU, I hope these make sense bc I had to translate from portuguese. 😭

[teethofeden]

jason would 100% call you princess omg (i definitely based this on red hood and the outlaws when him and artemis kissed)

[fleurmarjorieargent]

the journey of mock calling you princess to calling you princess with complete and catastrophic adoration.

[teethofeden]

THIS!!!! omg you just gave me an idea............

[teethofeden]

jason would 100% call you princess omg (i definitely based this on red hood and the outlaws when him and artemis kissed)

[teethofeden]

what if i write smth about vampire batman (not as creepy as in the comic)

[kaiiii1009]

how dc characters sleep (batfam edition) sfw

a/n: trying my hand at x reader fics. hope you enjoy !! i wrote this at like midnight last night in a fit of inspiration and then promptly fell asleep so if you see any mistakes that's why. i tried to make this gn but idk if that worked... this is just me putting my touch starved batfamily agenda out there. characters: dick, jason, tim, duke, cass, steph, bruce [lmk if you want more if you enjoy this :)))]

dick

that man is an octopus. he is alllll over you. on your side? his leg is thrown over yours, caging you in. on your back? he's lying on top like a weighted blanket. i just KNOW hes a human radiator so it’s great for the winter, not so much for summer… if he's on his back, he’ll have you on top on him, his hands wandering every which way. if he's had a hard patrol, he’ll come in and just flop on top of you, burying his face in your neck and not moving even when you squirm under him. he'll press hot kisses along your neck when you try and shove him off, just to get you to melt under him and let him stay. dick will just put his hands up under your sleep shirt just to be closer to you. he would get even more clingier if you try and get up while he’s asleep, even if it’s just to go to the bathroom. and his grip is strong. so you usually end up stuck since he won’t let you go even if he wakes up. 

jason

he only ever sleeps on his back or his side, his back facing the wall. he always mutters something about he just doesn’t want to be taken by surprise. however he’ll have you cuddled up against his chest, on arm slung over your waist if he’s on his side. he's not as clingy as dick but he's a touch starved guy so he’ll be a bit more touch in his sleep. never fear, you'll never be far out his grip. if he's on his back though, he doesn’t like it when your completely on top of him, saying it restricts his mobility but he’ll let you cuddle up with your head on his chest. lying close together never lasts long though, he always ends up star fishing and accidentally stealing all the blankets (jason just has the habit to burrow in as many blankets as he can). if you’re pouty about it the morning, he’ll just make you breakfast and quietly slide it over to you with does eyes  like the menace he is (you fold immediately)

tim

when he does sleep, he’s completely knocked out. like he either goes down hard or is the lightest sleeper ever. when hes knocked out he’ll be like a rock so you could essentially sleep however you want but he relaxes a lot more when you’re close to him. he'll unconsciously wrap his arms round you and tug you close if you even get close to him. he's not as clingy as his brother but he can be plenty clingy when he wants to be. when he’s sleeping lightly like a quick (forced) nap between working you can lie next to him and he’ll peek down at you before sighing fondly and tugging you on top of him like a human blanket. he’ll always manage to nose his way into the crook of your neck when he’s cold (he always runs cold and you're a heater to him) you'll flinch and pinch his side but he won’t ease up, so eventually you stop trying to stop him and just let him use you as a heater

duke

like dick hes a clingy sleeper. he'll be all over you, his favourite way to sleep is spooning where he's the little spoon, it makes him feel safe, and he loves to tip his head back and press little kisses to your collarbones or the underside of your jaw. but he also loves when you lie on top of him with your fully body weight. he’ll keep you trapped in his arms, but by the end of the night hes sprawled across the mattress. i think duke would also be a messy sleeper, like tossing and turning until hes tangled up in the covers. it annoys you so much because he's somehow managed to trap himself in the covers while you freeze your ass off. sometimes if you’re feeling extra petty about it you leave him to fend for himself instead of helping him untangle himself in the morning.

cass

she's a pretty chill sleeper. she’ll cuddle up against you, her head pressed against your chest so she can hear your heartbeat. she says it helps her sleep (you think it’s the sweetest thing ever) she also likes to be the big spoon, just so she can have you all wrapped up in her arms. i think cass would be a generally neat sleeper, like minimal movement except when she had nightmares and she just likes to cuddle, no matter the partner. when she takes naps she likes to curl up in your lap like a cat, her face pressed into your stomach, you think it’s sweet but tell her that she might suffocate if she sleeps with her face covers so often. she just deadpans and holds up her vigilante suit. that makes you shut up. cass is probably the best person the sleep with out of the whole family simply because she's so versatile and is pretty much comfortable with whatever her partner wants. as long as she gets her cuddles in the end :)))

steph

steph is both a clingy sleeper and and a messy sleeper. post patrol she’ll be all over you, just refusing to move off you, even if you say you can’t breathe, she would only shift a little to prevent you suffocating. she’ll lie on top of you saying she's going to sleep but then yap your ear off with patrol gossip until you're actually wiped out and she's nuzzling into your chest and the crook of your neck, just breathing in the smell of your body wash. steph would also somehow tangle the both of you in the covers with her night thrashing. it’s not even due to nightmares. she's just like that. you'll wake up in the morning, completely shifted around on your stomach while steph is halfway off the bed but somehow still blissfully knocked out. she falls asleep in the weirdest positions, like she’ll fall asleep mid convo if she’s tired enough, even if she’s doing like a freaking gymnastics move. she's just slide out of the move and flop on top of you, face buried in your hair, inhaling deeply like that's a normal thing for a person to do. you are always deeply concerned by the positions she falls asleep in. 

damian

at first he's hesitant to cuddle, only really ever cuddling with his pets, like letting them sleep on his bed on top of him. but eventually he comes round to the idea and just shifts all his pets onto you and joins them in cuddling you. he likes to feel like he’s protecting you, even in his sleep so he’ll be the big spoon, pressing kisses into your hairline if you can’t sleep. he's a relatively neat sleeper, never hogging the blankets or shifting around too much, only ever really moving with you. like if you start to wiggle around, he’ll wake up just to stop you from falling off the bed. damian is also quite a light sleeper so doesn’t particularly like having anyone on top of him, just for easy movement so he can get up in the morning without disturbing your sleep. 

bruce

that man either sleeps like a dead man or he’ll be all over you. there's no in between. he's just intense like that. usually he sleeps on his back and lets you cling onto him like koala but when he’s really feeling clingy he’ll smother you and just hold you as close to him as possible, like your thigh will be hiked up over his hip and his hands will be everywhere just so he can reassure himself that you're real and that you’re not going to leave him. when hes really sleep deprived, like dead on his feet, he’ll be so out of it he’ll just crash and nothing will move him. you'll have to use all your strength to get the man to roll over so you can get into bed. bruce never bothers with blankets or covers. he comes in from patrol and just flops straight on top of the covers after hes changed into comfortable clothes. he won’t starfish as such but he has a like a sixth sense so if you even move a fraction out of his grip, he’ll be tugging you back into his arms and not letting go. 

comment to be added to taglists (to general or specific) © kaiiii1009. no copying/plagiarizing/reposting/translation (etc) of my works. credits to @pixopix for the dividers.

[teethofeden]

He's trying a candy from your country!

Dick Grayson x Brazilian!Reader

Warning: Mentions of drugs (in a funny way, I swear). Implied relationship.

A/N: I was thinking about this meme from here (Brazil), and I started wondering which member of the batfamily it would happen to, so I did a small smau of Dick. Please forgive me if it's bad, it's my first time doing a smau. I had so much fun writing this lol.

── .✦ Eden.

[teethofeden]

ugh I have a feeling I'm getting sick and it's literally the worst week for it to happen 💔💔💔

[teethofeden]

Hii i saw your ask for requests of a taller than batfam reader and Im not one cuz im like a 5'2 (😭😭😭) but what about scenarios with Damian respecting reader for her height? Like he has this twisted sense of family dynamics he cant really grasp becuase everyone listens to the taller ones for some reason (bruce, dick, alfred) so he wants to extract secrets from you on how to be tall HAHAHHJH i love thinking of Damian as childish it gives me joy

Stealing your boots.

Damian Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content: Just fluff honestly. Might be a bit out of character(?) I never wrote anything about Damian. Reader gender is not mentioned but my intention is for her to be a woman. Reader's race isn't mentioned.

A/N: I started laughing just thinking about that scenario, hahahajah. I loved the idea! Ty for the request, I hope you enjoy <33

Damian had always carried this feeling inside him that the reason his brothers were the most respected was because of their height. And that thought always got stronger whenever he walked through the Batcave and noticed Bruce would always talk about important things with Dick, but the moment they noticed his presence it was like a circus show was about to start (no pun intended).

With your arrival, that thought started getting pushed aside a little, since you actually listened to and considered his opinions whenever they were relevant. Of course, everyone knew Damian was smart, especially for someone his age, but the fact his brothers were considerably older didn’t exactly put him in a favorable position. And soon enough he’d go right back to feeling insecure again, which you found kind of funny, though you never let him know that.

You came back from a quick mission with Dick while Damian was training with Bruce, and as always, you spent a good while talking about what had happened during your outing. With a solid performance, Bruce threw in a few compliments here and there while Damian stared at you both with an astronomical pout that apparently nobody noticed except you.

Dick and Bruce walked away as they kept talking, and you decided to keep the pouty-kid company.

“What’s wrong? Trying to catch a Wi-Fi signal with that big pout of yours?” you joked about the face he was still making, but as someone with more attitude than height, he quickly composed himself.

“You’re going to tell me all your secrets.” he said out of nowhere.

You blinked, confused. “What the hell are you talking about now?”

“Don’t tell me I’m the only one who noticed? Before, I suspected my theory about height equaling respect might be true, and now that you’re here I’m sure of it!” Damian gestured wildly with his hands while talking like he was presenting a thesis project. He was completely convinced that if he were taller things would be different. “Like, seriously, I’ve been here forever and you got here like, like yesterday! And you get more attention than me.”

“Well, unlike you, I wasn’t born yesterday, kid.” you teased, watching his face threaten to slip back into another grumpy pout. “Oh, come on, you know I’m joking.” You tried cheering him up. “On the last few missions you know I listened to you. Those were really valuable tips.” You reassured him.

“Yeah, but… You were the one out there doing superhero stuff! I don’t want to just be the brains. Every day Bruce makes me train with him, and for what?” Damian had a good point, but either way he didn’t seem to realize Bruce kept him from getting too involved because he was still too young. Since there wasn’t much else to do, you decided to just listen to him. That always worked.

“Alright, and what do you want now?” You asked.

His eyes lit up at your question like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact day to happen.

“Listen, I have an idea.” He answered.

Before he could even finish talking you already thought you might regret asking. There was your explanation for why Bruce listened to his other kids more.

“Maybe I could make a change to my suit, you know? Enough with the red, green, and yellow. I’m thinking of a darker vibe. Dark colors, like Batman’s suit, yours, and stuff.”

"They grow up so fast. Never thought the emo phase would come this early." That’s what you thought, but obviously didn’t say out loud.

“If I keep a really long cape but make it black, maybe I could wear those boots like yours without them even noticing and then—”

You swear you tried, but you couldn’t stop yourself from bursting into such a genuine laugh that made Dick and Bruce both look over at you two.

“Oh my god, kid, you want to wear my boots? You’re gonna have to learn how to walk all over again!” Just imagining Damian wearing boots with heels bigger than his own head already made you want to laugh again. You really did wear them for aesthetic reasons, since using them daily at your height was already kind of excessive. But when you were confident enough, that didn’t matter.

“But then what do I do?” Damian looked at you like a child who’d lost his dad at the supermarket.

For one brief second you actually considered giving him a useful answer, but the temptation to mess with him was way too strong.

“Well, wear the boots.” you said, trying to stay serious.

And before you could do anything else, Damian ran off to find your pair of boots, specifically the biggest ones he could find.

You quickly got Dick and Bruce’s attention, who were still talking about important things, and invited them to stare at the Batcave entrance with you.

“What are we waiting for?” Dick asked, confused.

“Shhh. Just wait.” you answered.

Bruce, equally confused, simply crossed his arms and stared at the doorway.

It took a while, but eventually Damian walked through the door. He had swapped out his suit for the blackest clothes he could find, along with one of Bruce’s old capes and, most importantly, he was wearing one of the biggest pairs of boots you owned.

The three of you immediately burst out laughing at the sight of the kid posing like he was the most badass superhero in the city, and while you had to wipe tears from your face from laughing so hard, Damian went right back to making the biggest pout imaginable.

"I knew it." And there he goes, trying to find new ways to get taller.

── .✦ Eden.

[teethofeden]

As a 6'2 woman I want to write something about the reader being taller than the batfamily members but I'm running out of scenarios 😥 If u have any ideas pls send me a request! <3

EDIT: damian's ver. is POSTED!

[teethofeden]

He's making sure you're nice and warm before going to bed.

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Content: fluff. suggestive. alcohol consumption. nudity (not detailed). showering (not together, not detailed). reader's race isn't mentioned. Bruce has a sense of humor (Who would have thought?). implied relationship. Bruce has a special nickname for you (I found it so funny when I came up with this.)

A/N: I wrote this while listening to Aqua Regia by Sleep Token because uggghhh I LOVE that song. My first language isn't English so there might be some errors. I DO NOT WRITE FOR MINORS!

Bruce knew that accompanying him to gala balls bored you, especially because he only went to have long, boring, and “important” conversations. Because after all, rich people love pretending they talk about relevant things while holding crystal glasses and wearing expensive clothes. And well, you weren’t exactly free of hypocrisy either, since you were doing the same thing, but that’s not the point. The thing is, as going with Bruce to those kinds of events became routine, little by little you got tired of smiling all night at people you had to pretend to like. Especially because the two of you were a couple that attracted a lot of attention.

With that in mind, Bruce had to come up with ideas to make the night more interesting for you. So today his conversations with other people were shorter. He kept looking at you with a smile and asking what you wanted to do, and you took like it you were going shopping, you wanted to have actual fun. You went from food to drinks, from drinks to long minutes dancing together, from dancing to making out on the balcony of the event building, hidden somewhere in the shadows where it’d be hard for anyone to see. The night was definitely more fun with Bruce giving you all the attention in the world, but it was also more exhausting than the previous times.

As a result, you left earlier. Inside the car, Bruce massaged your sore feet from all the walking and dancing all night, and you could finally feel your muscles relaxing. So relaxed that every five minutes, you yawned. “Tired, sweetheart?” Bruce asked calmly, forcing an innocent tone while his warm hands moved up your legs, now massaging your thighs firmly but still carefully. The look on his face sent a shiver down your spine; the way he spoke and acted, you knew it was just him trying to seem innocent in front of Alfred, who was driving the car. “Mhm, I am. Aren’t you?” you replied as if you hadn’t noticed his intentions, and he laughed knowing that you had. “Of course, my love.”

Before long, you were home, walking upstairs hand in hand to his suite. Happy about the night you’d had, you pulled him into a hug with a big, tired smile on your face. “Thank you for making the night more fun. I know you made an effort today, my love. I hope I didn’t get in the way of your business.” Bruce held your face with one hand, the other resting on your waist. “You didn’t get in the way, sweetheart. It’s much better giving attention to my wife than to a bunch of senile old men.” He joked. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” The two of you laughed, enjoying each other’s comforting presence. The warmth of his embrace mixed with the scent of him you loved so much lulled your mind into a state of safety and comfort. You could’ve fallen asleep right there, standing up.

But soon Bruce pressed a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you out of your trance. With time things got hotter, wandering hands here and there, and your eyes still felt heavy as concrete. You didn’t want to ruin the mood, so you thought maybe a shower would help you stay awake a little longer. You broke the kiss but stayed close to him, both of you able to feel each other’s warm breath against your skin. “Sorry, love, I really need a shower right now. Can you wait for me?” Bruce let out a grunt as if you were abandoning him for twelve months at the North Pole with no internet signal, but eventually he agreed that you deserved a restorative shower and let you go. Though not before attacking your face with several kisses, making you burst into laughter. “I love you.” “I love you too, sweetheart.”

While you tried to restore your energy, Bruce thought a hot shower would also do wonders for his aching back, so he started taking off some of his clothes and grabbing clean ones to wear later. A little while later, you came out of the bathroom and Bruce couldn’t help laughing at all the steam that escaped along with you; he was always surprised by how you could bathe in water that hot. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite boiled chicken.” he teased. “You make fun of me for taking hot showers, but you’re a little psychopath who takes cold showers even in winter.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips when he walked past you to enter the bathroom.

Considering how things had been going earlier, you decided to move things along a bit and waited for him lying on the bed wearing only a towel. He usually took longer showers than you, and the wait made you a little sleepy. In a failed attempt to stay awake, you ended up falling asleep on your stomach, your arms tucked under your head like pillows. You were so tired you didn’t even bother lying down properly or using a real pillow. A little while later, Bruce returned to the room and found you relaxed on the bed like an angel. He hadn’t realized you were asleep yet, but he soon noticed when he saw how much quieter you were.

“My love?” He didn’t call out to wake you, only to make sure you really were asleep. His voice was low and calm, and still wrapped in a towel, he carefully sat beside you. Your body seemed to notice his presence immediately; you let out a sleepy little grunt as if trying to say something to him but were too tired to manage it. “Quiet, love, you can sleep.” Carefully, he stroked the back of your neck until your breathing became calm again. He stood up and quickly put on the clothes he’d set aside earlier. Bruce spent a few minutes admiring you lovingly lying on his bed, occupying the center of it the way he loved seeing. He loved seeing you use his things with the same intimacy as if they were yours, because they were. He was completely in love and devoted.

Obviously, he knew he couldn’t let you sleep wearing only a towel, especially a damp one. So his mission was to get you as warm as possible without fully waking you up. Slowly, he opened the closet and grabbed some of his clothes he knew you liked wearing: a hoodie, sweatpants, and a pair of your underwear, which at this point in the relationship was all over his room. He approached you and carefully turned you over. You stirred but quickly relaxed again, one of the perks of being such a heavy sleeper.

Little by little, he managed to get the hoodie onto you, which he considered the hardest part. After that it was easy; he finished dressing you and finally set the towel aside. But even then, you were still lying in the middle of the bed, the pillow far away. Bruce lay down slightly above you and used that to pull you toward him, knowing that, as always, you’d immediately cling to him. And he was right. Unconsciously, whenever you slept together, no matter the position, at some point he’d find you clinging to him somehow. As if you were afraid he’d run away during the night. And Bruce loved that about you, constantly calling you a “backpack” because of it, even though he knew it annoyed you in an adorable way.

Finally, he pulled the blanket over the two of you and hugged you back. “Goodnight, backpack.” He pressed a warm kiss to your forehead before falling asleep with you.

── .✦ Eden.

[aquaticmercy]

A Hundred Times A Day

Summary : Dex is convinced that he‘s bad for you, but maybe you were made for each other.

Pairing : DDBA! Benjamin Poindexter x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Freak4freak!!!! Hurt/comfort(?) Major sex themes, dark romance, codependent relationship, obsessive attachment, Sex is very much described (explicit, but no anatomical detail), hostage backstory, handcuffs/restraint mention, Stockholm syndrome discussion, guilt, panic/anxiety, morally questionable romance, vomiting mentioned (not as a sex act), drug mentioned but no drug use, chase kink mentioned, cursing (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count : 2.9k

Notes : This was supposed to be an impromptu 500-word blurb I wrote while listening to “Free” by Florence and The Machine but I went overboard. This is probably my most explicit fic yet. Enjoy!

The first time you told Dex you loved him, he had thrown up.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

You had said it in his kitchen, half-asleep in one of his old FBI shirts, barefoot with love bites on your neck, reaching for the coffee like you had any right to look that adorable in a place he lived. Like his apartment was not a place where he planned to kill people. Like his hands had never done anything worse than skim under the hem of your shirt and pull you close.

“I love you,” you had said, casual as breathing.

Dex had gone white.

Then he had walked very calmly into the bathroom with one hand over his mouth and vomited until his ribs hurt.

Because yes, he loved you too.

He loved you so badly it felt like his body had mistaken affection for a terminal illness. He loved you until being away from you made his skin crawl. He loved you so much it made him cruel to himself. He loved you so much he wanted to crawl out of his own skin because wanting to keep you felt like a crime. He had wanted to be loved his whole miserable life, and then when you came along and loved him, he wouldn’t fucking trust it.

Because there was no way you loved him back.

Not really.

Not if you were whole.

Not if he had not done something to you first.

Because the first time you met, he had broken into your apartment. After all, your window had the perfect sightline into the building across the street.

Because you had caught him in your living room with a mug in your hand and sleep shorts riding high on your thighs, and he had looked at you like you were a small obstacle.

“What the fuck—”

His hand covered your mouth before you could get any louder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely, because he was one of the good guys now. “I just gotta do this one thing.”

You bit his palm.

He hissed, then caught your wrist and handcuffed you to the exposed water pipe under your kitchen sink.

He flexed his bitten hand once. “I said sorry.”

You glared up at him.

That day, you should have screamed yourself hoarse.

Instead, you had talked for six straight hours. 

You. Fucking. Yapped. 

Like a pomeranian on cocaine.

You had insulted his boots, his posture, his insane audacity. You demanded coffee. You asked if the gun was compensating for something (you later found out it was definitely not). You asked if he always tied women up before breakfast or if you were getting special treatment. You even threatened to bite him again if he came too close, then immediately asked if he was single.

Dex had sat by your window with a rifle scope pressed to his eye. He was pretty sure he fell in love somewhere between the twelfth complaint that your ass was sore and the twenty-first threat to sue him.

So now, eight months later, with you under him, legs wrapped around his waist and your body taking him so well he could barely breathe, all he could think was…

He had done this.

He had broken something in you.

Still, he moaned your name. You were perfect beneath him, pleasing him so well that his own voice kept dying in his throat every time he tried to speak. He could barely form the guilt into words because you kept squeezing around him like your body wanted him closer than close, like every thrust dragged a sound out of you that went straight through his cogmium spine and lit him up from the inside.

“You don’t love me,” he suddenly rasped, because of course he had to bring it up again while he was inside you.

You laughed, but it broke into a moan halfway through when he moved again, and the stretch of him made your whole body seize. “Dex…”

He choked on the spit buildup in his mouth because he was drooling at this point, his hands fisting in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck,” he breathed, voice ruined. “Don’t—don’t say my name like that.”

You tried to answer, but he was too much, too deep, fucking you into the mattress hard enough to make the bed frame knock harshly against the wall like every thrust was an argument he was losing.

“You’re so… hmph,” His forehead dropped against yours. His voice cracked. “God, you’re so fucking tight. I can’t think when you— when you feel like this.”

You could barely hear what he was saying, you just dragged him down by the neck and kissed the scar on his cheek. You were practically making out with it, because hyperfocusing on it helped bring you back to earth. “Dex… fuck!”

His whole body jerked at the sound.

“Don’t,” he rasped, but he didn’t stop.

His hips kept driving into yours, deep and rough, punching the breath out of you until your hands pawing at his skin. “Don’t say it like that.”

You tried to laugh again, but it came out as a shaky gasp when he pushed deeper. “Like what?”

“Like you, hmm.” His head dropped now, his mouth dragging wet and open against your throat. “Like you love me.”

Your nails dug into his back, giving his back scar company. “I do.”

Dex’s brows furrowed like you had hit him.

His pace faltered for half a second. Then the panic caught up to him and he thrusted harder, like he could outrun the words by burying himself deeper inside you. “N-no.”

“Yes.”

“No,” he said again, and it came out so small it was nearly swallowed by the filthy sound of his body moving against yours. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what this is.”

“I know exactly what this is.”

“You don’t.” His hand grasped the sheets. “You can’t. You can’t love me.”

You were struggling to keep your eyes open. He was stretching you so much every thought came apart before it finished forming, pleasure dragging through you hot and heavy, making your thighs shake around his hips.

Still, you forced yourself to look at him. “I do love you.”

Dex looked like he might be sick again.

Every time.

Every fucking time you said it, even if it was a hundred times a day, his heart broke a little. Like his body wanted the words and his mind rejected them. Like being loved by you was too impossible to fit inside him without tearing a wormhole open.

“You hear y-yourself?” he demanded, breathless, furious, hips still snapping into yours. “You hear how insane that sounds?”

You moaned, head tipping back against the ridiculously expensive pillows he had bought you because his last one ‘made your neck a little stiff’ once.

He groaned at the feel of you tightening around him. “Fuck… don’t—don’t do that.”

“I… ahh, can’t help it,” you managed, voice shaking. “I fucking love you.”

“No, you don’t.” He sounded almost angry now, but all of it was pointed inward, all of it soaked in guilt. “I cuffed you to a pipe. I— Fuck— scared you. I held you hostage and now you’re here, telling me you love me while I’m—” His teeth clenched, his body shuddering over yours. “While I’m doing this to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you forced out, gripping his arm hard enough to make him hiss. “I asked for this.”

His eyes burned. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“It does, actually.”

“You’re sick.”

“So are you.”

He laughed once, but there was no humor behind it. He then buried his face in your neck as his pace got messier. “I think I gave you Stockholm syndrome.”

“You didn’t,” you insisted. It was barely a sound, it was a miracle he heard you at all.

“You’re not listening.”

“You’re not thinking.”

“I am thinking.” His voice cracked on the last word because you tightened around him again and his forehead dropped to yours, “Shit, you drive me insane.”

“Good.”

“No.” He kissed you hard. “No, not good. That’s what I mean. You make me like this. You make me want too much.”

“You already want too much.”

His hips stuttered, and you saw the guilt pass over his face at once.

Then he drove into you harder. You cried out, and his eyes went dark.

“There,” he said, voice ragged. “That. You should hate me for this.”

“No, Dex.” Your hands slid up, catching his chin, forcing his face close to yours while he kept fucking you breathless. “You didn’t give me Stockholm syndrome. I. Love. You.”

He shuddered. His mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. Then a broken moan as his body betrayed him again.

“You don’t,” he whispered.

“I do.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m not.”

“You are to me.” His voice sounded raw, almost boyish in its disbelief. “And if you love me, then I did something to you. I had to. I had to have broken something, because there’s no– hnggf— no other way.”

Your chest tightened.

He was still moving, still taking you apart with a rhythm so desperate it bordered on punishing, but his eyes were wet. His eyes filled with self-hatred. He looked like a man starving at a feast and hating himself for opening his mouth.

“Fine,” you gasped. “Have it your way.”

Dex went still for exactly one second. Not fully, and definitely not enough to pull out. Then his body reacted before his mind did and he thrust harder.

It was as if the sentence had scared him so badly he had to pin you beneath him with his weight, his mouth, his hands, his hips. Like if he stopped moving, the words would become real enough to take you away. “W-what?”

“Maybe— hm, maybe you did g-give me Stockholm Syndrome,” you said, voice shaking, half from pleasure, half from fury. “Now what?”

His breathing turned ragged.

“So what, huh?” Your nails dragged up his neck into his hair, combing his scalp “You gonna tell me to go?”

Dex’s face soured. “No.”

“You gonna leave me?”

“No.” The thought of it made him sick. You could see it. You could feel it. His whole body tensed, his grip tightening, his hips losing rhythm for a moment before coming back rougher, deeper, more desperate. 

Leaving you was the one noble thing he kept threatening himself with, and the second you suggested it, it destroyed him.

“No,” he said again, like he hated you for making him admit it. Like he hated himself more. “Don’t f-fucking ask me that.”

“But that’s what you’re… you’re saying.” You were so close now you could barely speak, words breaking apart every time he drove into you. “If you really think you ruined me, then stop.”

Dex’s eyes locked on yours.

Your mouth trembled into a cruel little smile. “If you really think, you— shit, you broke me, t-then stop fucking me.”

His breath hitched.

He didn't stop. 

You felt it in the way his body went even harder, even more frantic, like the command had gone straight into the darkest, neediest part of him and went feral.

“I-if you think you’re bad f’me, then get off me,” you whispered, mean and gentle all the same, by his ear, close enough to lick the lobe. “Then don’t touch me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t come in me, because we b-both know you’re— hmphh— planning to.”

Dex groaned, tortured, burying his face against your throat.

“No,” he rasped.

“No?”

“No.”

“Thought so.”

He kissed you then, hard enough to steal the rest of the taunt from your mouth.

It was perfect after that, fucking perfect and awful. Your bodies slick with sweat, his hands gripping your hips like he was trying not to bruise you and failing at restraint in every other way. He fucked you like he was confessing and denying the confession in the same breath, like every thrust said mine and every sound said I’m sorry.

“You should run,” he rasped.

“You’d follow.”

His eyes burned.

You smiled up at him, breathless and shaking. “And I’d let you c-catch me. I’m fucking into it.”

Dex looked ruined.

His rhythm stuttered, and for a second you thought that was it, that he was going to fall apart right there, but he grabbed your hips and flipped you with quick motion that left you dizzy.

Then you were on top of him.

Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips, your hands braced on his chest, and Dex looked up at you like you were killing him. His face was flushed, eyes wet, mouth parted as you sank back down onto him.

“Say it,” he said, voice destroyed.

You moved over him, thighs shaking, pleasure making you unsteady. “Say what?”

His eyes opened, furious and starving. “Say– fuck, baby— that you know you could leave and I’d let you leave.”

Your chest tightened. “Dex.”

“Say it.” His grip tightened, not forcing, just holding on. “Say you know the door isn’t locked. Say you know I’d let you go.”

You stared down at him. At the man who had wanted love so badly it made him monstrous with fear. At the man who still believed wanting you was worse than first degree murder. At the man underneath you, shaking, begging for proof that this was not captivity while his body betrayed how badly he needed you to stay.

You leaned down until your mouth brushed his.

“I know I can leave,” you whispered. “I-I know you’d let me.”

His breath collapsed.

Then you kissed the corner of his mouth without ruining your rhythm. “But I’m not.”

Dex broke under you.

His hands slid up your back, dragging you down against his chest as he thrust up into you, needy and completely undone. You could barely keep up, barely keep speaking, your forehead pressed to his as you rode him. 

“I love you,” you said again. and this time, he knew you meant it.

That was what did it for him. Not the heat. Not the filth. Not the way you tightened around him or the way he was losing himself inside you, though that helped.

That.

The idea that you had chosen him with all your mind intact.

Your breath hitched first, then your whole body seized, pleasure dragging you under so good that your words turned into a ruined little sound against his mouth. Dex’s eyes widened, his hands clamping around your waist as you went through it.

“There,” he rasped. “There she is.”

You came too hard to answer him properly, nails digging into his chest as he kept you there. “There she is,” he said again, almost broken. “That’s my girl.”

And then Dex broke completely.

He buried his face in your neck as he came after you, groaning your name like an apology, like a confession, like it was the only prayer he knew. His body trembled beneath yours, his arms locked around you while he spilled inside you, holding on as if letting go too soon might make the whole thing disappear.

Afterward, Dex held you like an apology.

His mouth fluttered gentle kisses over your temple, your cheek, your throat, frantic in little broken bursts. He kept whispering sorry so many times the word stopped sounding like language and started sounding like breathing.

You were half-asleep against his chest, your fingers tucked loosely against his ribs.

He kissed your forehead again. “Sorry.”

You breathed out, half asleep. “For what?”

Dex went quiet.

He didn’t know, not really. He was sorry for the pipe, for wanting you too much, for needing you in a way that still scared him. He was sorry for looking at your love and thought it must have been damage.

His arms tightened around you.

You opened your eyes just enough to look at him. His face was ruined, like he was still trying to decide whether holding you counted as selfish.

You giggled softly.

“Dex,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded, fingers lazy in his hair. “If I’m broken, then I was broken when you found me.”

His breath stopped.

You smiled like that was supposed to comfort him.

Instead, it crawled into him and settled under his ribs, sweet and infected. It made his heart thump hard against his ribs. It made the guilt twist, mutate, turn into a warm and fuzzy feeling. Because there you were, looking at him like he wasn’t the man that had ruined you, but the man that had finally made sense. Like whatever was wrong with you had looked at whatever was wrong with him and fuckin’ purred.

Dex stared at you, eyebrows relaxing.

You touched his face, thumb dragging gently over his cheek scar, and he leaned into it before he could stop himself. 

Pathetic. So utterly gone for you. 

“I love you,” he said.

It came out hoarse. 

You shrugged like you knew all along. 

“I love you,” he said again. His hand tightened at your waist. “I love you.”

And for the first time, Dex wondered if Stockholm syndrome could happen the other way around, to the captor instead.

There was probably a fancy word for it. Some clinical term made by people with normal hearts. Something he could look up, self-diagnose, dissect, pretend to understand.

But Dex didn’t care.

If that was what had happened to him, then fine.

He didn’t want it cured.

—end. 

Extra note : I’ll start the Dex taglist in the next post, comment if you want to be added!

[teethofeden]

holy shit

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Tough Luck!

Dick Grayson x gn!Reader

summary: The three times he tried to kiss you and the one time he finally got to kiss you.

warning: fluff

Dick was genuinely starting to think the universe hated him. Because seriously, how hard was it to kiss you?

Apparently impossible.

The first time happened in his room at Wayne Manor.

You were sitting on his bed while he rambled about something that happened during patrol, waving his hands around dramatically while you laughed at him. His hair was messy from the shower he’d taken earlier and he looked dangerously handsome in gray sweatpants and an old band shirt.

Dick had been staring at you for a solid five minutes at that point. Not even listening to himself anymore.

Just you.

The way you smiled at him as if he hung the stars for you. The way you always looked at him and smiled at him. It made his chest hurt a little.

“What?” you asked finally, catching him staring.

“Nothing.” he said immediately.

“You’re smiling at me weird.” you pushed yourself up a bit with your elbows so you could look at him a little better.

“I always smile at you weird.”

“True.” You laughed quietly and Dick swore he almost melted into the mattress. God, he liked you so much.

Before he could chicken out, he moved closer. One hand landed beside your thigh on the bed while his eyes flicked down to your lips.

You noticed immediately. Your breathing hitched a little. Dick’s heart nearly exploded.

“Can I kiss-” The bedroom door slammed open.

“Dick, have you seen my- oh.” Jason froze in the doorway. Dick closed his eyes slowly. Of course.

Of fucking course.

You looked away quickly trying not to laugh while Jason stared between the two of you with the most annoying grin imaginable.

“Oh my god!” Jason said. “Was Grayson finally about to make a move after pining for like thirty years?”

“Get out.” he throws a pillow at Jason but he quickly dodges.

“You were gonna kiss them!” Jason says loudly and points at dick. To be fair, he always had to listen Dick rumbling about how much he likes you.

“Jason.”

“You hesitated too long, ancient man.”

Dick threw another pillow directly at his head while Jason laughs and disappeared down the hallway. The mood was officially dead.

Dick flopped backward onto the bed dramatically. “I’m moving to the other side of the world.”

You were laughing too hard to comfort him properly. The second time should’ve worked. Key word: Should’ve.

Dick actually planned this one. Like he actually bought a notebook just to write his ideas down on how to kiss you and where to kiss you. Safari open next to the notebook so he could look up beautiful places to take you.

So, he took you out for dinner after patrol and the two of you ended up sitting on a rooftop overlooking Gotham with your legs hanging over the edge and Dick’s hand protectively holding you close to him by your waist so you don’t fall.

The city lights reflected in Dick’s eyes while he looked at you.

You were sitting so close your knees bumped together every few seconds, neither of you moving away.

“You know.” Dick said softly, “I think this is the longest we’ve gone without one of my siblings ruining my life.”

“You just jinxed it.” you smile at him.

“Nah.” He grinned. “Nobody knows we’re here.”

The second he leaned in, you smiled to yourself, eyes dropping to his mouth. This was the moment!!

Finally.

Then suddenly-

“OH COME ON!”

Wally appeared out of literal nowhere. Dick almost screamed. Wally blinked between the two of you before looking genuinely offended. “Were you guys about to kiss without telling me?”

Dick stared at him with betrayal in his eyes. “How did you even find us?”

“I brought fries.” Wally holds two bags of fries in his hands and lifts them in his face.

“I don’t care!” You were fully hiding your face in your hands laughing while Dick contemplated pushing his best friend off the roof.

“This is sick.” Dick muttered. “I’m cursed.”

“You kinda are.” you admitted.

The third attempt somehow went even worse. Which honestly felt impressive.

You were both in the Batcave helping Dick patch up a tear in his suit after patrol. Well. Dick was pretending to help while mostly flirting with you.

“You missed a spot.” you told him.

“I’m distracted.”

“By what?” you ask him, acting confused.

“You.” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway.

Dick leaned against the work table, watching you carefully while you focused on fixing the suit. You looked ridiculously cute under the cave lights and Dick decided he was done waiting.

Absolutely done.

He stepped closer slowly. Your hands stilled immediately.

There it was again. That one look. That soft nervous look you got every time he got too close.

Dick lifted a hand to your face gently. “Can I please kiss you now or is the universe gonna send another speedster after me?”

You laughed quietly. “Maybe you’re just unlucky.”

“I’m Nightwing. Bad luck is kinda my brand.” You smiled up at him and Dick swore his heart did a backflip.

He leaned down slowly-

“Richard.” Dick nearly slammed his head into the table. Bruce stood at the entrance of the Batcave looking completely unaware of the psychological damage he just caused.

Dick looked seconds away from tears.

You actually turned away because you were laughing too hard.

Bruce frowned slightly. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes!” Dick said immediately.

“No.” you said at the same time.

Bruce looked between both of you silently before turning back around.

“I’ll come back later.”

“THANK YOU!!!” Dick groans which earns him a little laugh from you. And he could swear he just felt his heart melt away. He wants to hear your laugh more often and if he could, he would tattoo the sound of your laugh on his skin.

The cave elevator closed again.

Dick dropped his forehead onto your shoulder dramatically. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your shoulders shook with laughter while he groaned against you.

“You know I’m trying here.”

“I know.” you reply while resting your hands on his back, comforting him.

“I’m literally suffering.” Dick places his hands on each side of your hip.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You love me.” The words slipped out accidentally. Both of you froze. Dick lifted his head slowly, eyes wide. “Well.” Your face warmed instantly.

“Well…” you echoed quietly.

Then suddenly Dick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Wait. You didn’t deny it.”

“Maybe because I do.” You laughed softly. Dick genuinely forgot how to breathe for a second. And that was exactly why attempt number four HAD to work.

No siblings.

No Wally.

No Bruce.

No Alfred walking in with emotional support cookies.

Nothing.

Dick planned everything carefully.

His bedroom door? Locked. Windows? Checked twice because apparently his family climbed into rooms acting like they will die if they don’t get in there. Phone? Off. Comms? Disabled.

He even bribed Damian with twenty dollars to leave him alone for one night. Bought Tim five coffees so he wouldn’t knock on his door asking if he wanted to go and grab coffee. He hid Jason’s book in the refrigerator so he was busy searching for it. Dick trusted Duke enough to tell him about his plan and begged him to keep Steph, Cass away from his door.

“You’re insane.” you told him while laughing as he checked the hallway one final time.

“I’m cautious.” he replied softly.

“You barricaded the door.”

“Trauma changes people.” Dick shrugs off. You snorted while Dick finally turned toward you with a victorious smile.

“There.” he said proudly. “Perfect.”

“You’re adorable.”

“No, I’m determined.” He walked over slowly until he stood right in front of you.

This time there were no interruptions. No doors opening. No dramatic entrances. Just you and Dick.

Finally.

His hands settled gently on your waist while he looked at you with that stupidly soft expression he only ever wore around you.

“You know.” he murmured, “I’ve been trying to do this for like a month.”

“Your success rate is terrible.” you smile softly as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Don’t bully me before I kiss you.”

You grinned. “Make me stop.”

Dick laughed quietly under his breath before leaning in again. This time he actually made it.

About damn time!

The kiss was soft at first, almost shy despite all his confidence. Like he’d wanted this for so long he was scared to ruin it.

But the second you kissed him back properly, Dick melted. Actually melted.

One of his hands slid up to your cheek while the other pulled you closer against him like he physically couldn’t get enough.

And oh my god… He kissed exactly how you imagined he would. Warm. Sweet. A little breathless because he was smiling into it half the time.

When you pulled away, Dick rested his forehead against yours looking ridiculously happy.

“There.” he whispered softly. He is very proud of himself. “I won.”

You laughed softly. “Against who?”

“My entire family.”

“Fair.” Dick kissed you again immediately, quicker this time because now he finally could.

“No interruptions.” he mumbled against your lips.

“Don’t jinx it!”

He gasped dramatically. “Take that back right now.”