XxjesshuxX @xxjesshuxx - Tumblr Blog

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nimbrxa

teacher izuku

mangzoart

A quick superbat sketch I doodled on my phone instead of writing my research paper 🥲

hannrum

Bruce and his baby

unreasonablerobin

That's My Sister!

DC Characters x Reader

(Wally West, Kon El Kent, Roy Harper, Starfire, Hal Jordan, Barry Allen, Clark Kent)

Synopsis: They're caught dating their friend's sister

Tags: Fluff ♡, a bit suggestive at parts, batfam sister, Nightingale alias

They hadn't meant to keep it a secret for so long, honestly. It's just... how do you tell your friend you're banging their sister? Probably start off by phrasing it better.

k1swass

when u find a masterpiece x reader fic, but the reader turns out to have a name and a description

jung-koook

DOUBLE ATTACK 😩 (cr. @taee)

shisuni

ᯓ➤ your mom will make you soup later yeah?

← ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ⋮ ⌞ jason todd ✘ reader + platonic! damian wayne ✘ reader ⌝ .ᐟ .ᐟ

ৎׅ ׄ synopsis ⋮ Damian is too scared to go home like this, so Jason calls you to them. His home that makes good soup, his home with soft hands, his home that Damian is about to steal the heart of. word cnt. 9.6k

aka ›››› "Father...?" "Yeah bud?" Jason replies so casually you want to strangle him.

4dian-nip-slip

Not what you think

Jason found something in your stuff that made him mad. Now you gotta try and explain yourself.

A/n: heyyyyy 😅 I’m sorry it’s been a while. I’m not a huge fan of the misunderstanding trope, but I had a stroke of inspiration and wrote this in a sort of fugue state in the middle of the night, so I’m hoping it both makes sense and takes me out of my little writing rut.

cw: cursing, mentions of dicks and sex but no smut (I can’t write smut for the life of me lol). Also, I usually write for feminine readers and I try to keep their physical descriptions as vague as possible so everyone can enjoy, but I did have to make the reader wear a small for the purpose of the story, so I’m sorry 😔

I really appreciate you all, thank you for the support. Enjoyyyy 🫶🫶🫶🫶

merletka

hearts-for-merlin

something like rest

࿔.ᐟ pairing Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader

࿔.ᐟ summary When Damian comes home after a difficult patrol, he finds something he does not expect: A bath that is meant to be yours alone and yet, it does not stay that way for long.

࿔.ᐟ tw non-sexual nudity, bruises/injuries, kissing of bruises/injuries, slight angst, loooots of fluff

You cannot remember the last time you allowed yourself to simply sit still.

Warm water laps gently against your skin as you sink deeper into the bathtub with a content sigh. The bathroom glows with soft candlelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the walls. Scented bubbles gather around you while steam curls lazily through the air, fogging the mirror above the sink. It is peaceful.

You rarely have an evening to yourself, rarer still one that allows you to slow down and enjoy it, but tonight, you made it a point to do exactly that.

A book sits abandoned on a stool beside the tub, forgotten in favor of simply existing in the warmth. For the first time all day, your mind feels quiet. Then, from somewhere downstairs, comes the familiar sound of the front door opening.

Damian is home.

A small smile finds its way onto your face. You expect him to take a while when he gets into the bedroom, likely to change out of his uniform and then go to the spare bathroom, to shower away the grime of patrol before seeking you out. It was a routine the two of you had fallen into long ago.

So when the bathroom door cracks open only a few minutes later, you can't help but lift your brows in surprise.

You move to sit up in the bathtub and watch as Damian lingers in the doorway for a moment.

His domino mask is gone, leaving his dark hair slightly mussed from the night’s activities. Though he has shed some of his gear, enough remains to tell you that he hadn’t bothered stopping anywhere else before coming to find you. As your eyes rake over his figure, you noticed a bruise forming along his jaw and another disappearing beneath the collar of his suit.

“Hello, beloved,” he greets.

“Hi,” you respond, while turning your body to lean your arms against the side of the tub and rest your head on them.

His gaze sweeps over the room. The candles, the bubbles and the steam curling through the air, before setting on you. For a moment, neither of you speak. Then he steps fully into the room. You expect him to say something but instead he turns right around, disappeared from view, and returns moments later dragging one of the dining chairs behind him. The legs scraped softly against the floor.

“Damian?”

Ignoring your obvious confusion, he positions the chair beside the bathtub and sits down. You ask again, looking up at him from where you head rests, “Can I help you?”

“I was under the impression that I was allowed to sit in my own bathroom.” The slight teasing tone is evident in his voice but you can tell it was overlapped by tiredness. You sigh and playfully roll your eyes, “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“And yet I answered.” Always very smart mouthed. He is being difficult this evening but you know that only means he was trying to dodge the questions you haven’t yet asked.

You study him for a moment. Beneath the usual sharpness in his expression is something softer. More tired. His shoulders are tense beneath the remnants of his suit, and while Damian would sooner launch himself off the roof of the Manor than openly complain, you know him well enough to recognize when a patrol had been particularly rough.

“Long night?” You ask, carefully. He lets out a short sigh, more of a huff, “I’ve endured worse.”

He just always has to be so defensive, so like always you just give him the look. The one that said, “Stop being difficult with me, I know you far too well, for this.”

It is clear to you now that Damian had come here immediately, seeking out your presence. He would never barge and in and just unload his feelings but he would simply sit beside you in silence because your presence always makes him feel better.

You allow him the silence, neither of you speaking for a while. He sits with one arm draped over the back of the chair while you remain resting against the edge of the tub, examining his features. The flicker of the candlelight softens the sharp angles of his face and, little by little, some of the tension seems to leave his shoulders. You observe him as he watches the candles.

For someone who insists he preferers solitude, Damian has always been strangely fond of sharing it with you.

Eventually, your gaze drifts back to the bruise along his jaw. In the years that you have known him, you have become accustomed to seeing the occasional scrape or bruise after patrol. It never stopped bothering you, but you’d learned that fussing over the injury only earned you an exasperated look and a lecture on the realities of vigilantism. But tonight is different, he looks too tired.

Not physically tired, because Damian could push through physical exhaustion out of sheer stubbornness alone. No, this is something else. The kind of tiredness that settles behind his eyes. Difficult for anyone but you to notice. An idea comes to mind.

“You know,” you say softly, “most people take a bath when they want to relax.” You are looking downward, swishing the bath water with your hands.

One green eye cracks open, “Most people weren’t trained to function under considerably more demanding conditions.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah well you’re sitting in my perfectly crafted cozy space over here so you’re basically- well almost, in a bath filled with scented bubbles.” He shakes his head, “I’m sitting beside a bath, and it is no way the same.”

If you could roll your eyes any further back into your head you would, but he did make a fair point so you only huff in response, “Mm.”

Damian lets out a small smirk at your annoyance, “There is a difference.”

You decide to ignore his stubbornness and continue pushing, “Right.” You hum unconvinced, “And that’s why you came straight here?” This is when the smirk on his face falters, “I fail to see the connection?”

You continue, “You didn’t shower.”

Silence.

“You didn’t change.”

More silence.

Your eyes drop pointedly to the boots he still wears, “You didn’t even take your boots off.” You are looking right at him now.

He looks away and then back at you again, “Beloved.” The warning in his tone only makes you smile more.

“Damian,” You respond giving him the sweetest smile you can muster, knowing exactly what you are doing. He sighs, “You are being insufferable,” but there is no real malice in his voice. You drag your words to sound extra sweet, “Learned from the best.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up despite himself. For yet another moment, neither of you speak. The candles flicker softly around the room while the water shifts gently, as you adjust your position in the bathtub. Damian leans back in the chair, resting his head against it.

It is such a small action, most people wouldn’t think twice about it, but you do. Damian rarely ever so brazenly shows that he is tired and yet now his eyes drift shut for a few seconds. His shoulders sink and the tension that he had carried into the room seems heavier than before, as though simply sitting reminds his body of how exhausted it actually is.

When his eyes open again you are already watching him, “What?’

“You look tired.” You finally admit to what you have been thinking this entire time.

“I am not.’ The response comes far too quickly. You raise a brow and he looks away from you.

You sigh, fed up of the banter and then your mouth curves into a mischievous smile. Damian immediately notices, “Do not. Whatever it is that you’re thinking. Don’t.”

You can't help but laugh, wanting to respond that you were not thinking anything but you saw the way his brows raise already, in anticipation of your fib.

“Fine,” you relent. “I was thinking that perhaps a certain stubborn vigilante might benefit from relaxing for once.”

He glances over your figure in the bathtub, shrugging his shoulders, “I am relaxing now.”

He nearly sends you over the edge, as you dramatically flop backward into the water, causing a small splash. You frantically gesture to the steaming water around you, “No Dami, this is relaxing! Not sitting in a chair, fully dressed in you uniform.”

You watch his gaze follow your hand that gestures to the water. That is the final push for the words to casually leave your mouth, “Join me.”

At that he scoffs, and you expect an immediate refusal. Instead, the words never come. You watch as he leans forward resting his forearms on his knees, thinking. That alone is enough to tell you that he is considering it. You to fight back the smile that threatens to appear on your face.

“You are not allowed to look so pleased with yourself.” He let out a long sigh and pushes himself to his feet. A grin now spreads across your face. But you wisely choose not to comment. The last thing you need is him changing his mind out of sheer stubbornness. So instead, you just watch as he removes his gear.

His gloves are the first thing to go, tossed unceremoniously onto the counter. The cape follows shortly after, draped over the back of the chair he had occupied.

You try not to stare but fail miserably. His warm tan skin is sculpted so perfectly. You notice a fresh bruised darkened the skin near his shoulder while several smaller cuts and scrapes decorate his arms. It isn't anything serious or unusual for him, yet seeing the evidence of his nights out never gets any easier for you.

Damian senses your attention on him but continues undressing. He knows the exact way that you are looking at him, with worry. Your face adorning the same look whenever his body showcased new injuries.

The movement of the water finally pulls your attention away from the bruises scattered across his skin. You look up just in time to watch Damian step into the bath. A laugh immediately bubbles in your chest which earns you a look, the grin on your face only widening at that.

Despite all of his earlier resistance, he settles with surprising ease. The water shifting around him, gentle waves brushing against your arms as he carefully lowers himself into the space behind you. The bathtub was certainly large enough for two people and yet that did not stop your knees from bumping his.

“Move forward.” He says like it’s obvious.

“There it is.”

“There is what?” He stops his movement.

“That attitude.” You respond and his expression remains entirely unimpressed. Though, you comply anyway, shifting forward to give him more room. Only for him to immediately slide an arm around your waist once you settled again. A smile, yet again tugs at your lips. The hypocrisy is astounding.

Slowly you lean back to get more comfortable. Damian’s chest feels warm against your back despite already being in warm water. His legs barricade around yours. The arm around your waist tightens slightly, not enough to restrain you, just enough to keep you close. And for the first time that evening, you feel him relax. The tension that had clung stubbornly to his shoulders seems to melt beneath the warmth of the water, a quiet breath leaving him. Then another. His chin coming down to brush briefly against the top of your head.

You smile to yourself, closing your eyes as you lay against him, “There he is.”

Damian, whose eyes are also closed in comfort, cracks an eye open at that, “I’ve been here the entire time.”

“You know what I mean.” Your response causes his arm to tighten a fraction more around your waist. He knows exactly what you mean.

The both of you sit in a comfortable silence. But that doesn't last long because you cannot help yourself.

“So, do you want complete silence or can I tell you about what just happened in the book I’m reading,” You began, the words spilling out before you could properly organize them. “But silence is fine, if that’s what you want. If you’d prefer not silence, that can also be arranged-” You ramble on

“Beloved.” You stop mid-sentence. Damian’s hand at your waist shifts slightly, his thumb beginning to trace slow, absent circles against your skin. The motion is steady and grounding, not just for you but for him too. “You may do as you please,” he says quietly. “Your preference is mine.” The words are spoken with absolute certainty.

For a moment you forget what you were even saying, “…right,” you murmur, softer now.

Your thoughts suddenly feel too loud in contrast to the quiet warmth around you. All at once you become too aware of him. Of how close he is. Of the steady rhythm of his breathing behind you. Without really thinking about it, you shift, slowly turning in his arms. Damian’s hold loosens just enough to allow it. You adjust yourself until your cheek goes to rest lightly against his firm chest.

“Mm.” You hum absentmindedly, as if confirming something to yourself.

You listen to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of the water, the softness of the candlelight, the arm still resting loosely around you. It all blurs together until it feels impossible to separate where you end and he begins.

And then, as your head tilts slightly, you see it. Just beside where your cheek rests sits a bruise, darker up close than it had been before. It stretches faintly along his upper chest, partially hidden by the angle of the light and the fading remnants of tension in his muscles.

Your fingers lift before you can fully decide to move them. Carefully and almost hesitant at first, you trace the edge of the bruise with the lightest touch. Not pressing, only acknowledging it.

Damian’s breath hitches, barely, “It is minor.” Your thumb pauses for only a second, at his dismissal, before you lean in. And then, gently, you press a kiss to the mark. It is soft and barely there, but the effect is immediate. Damian goes still beneath you. He doesn’t tense or pull away. Just stills as though the entire room narrowed down to only that point of contact.

You don’t move back. Instead you linger for a moment longer, your lips resting lightly against his skin as your hand remains where it is, steady against his chest. Then, just as quietly, you press another kiss on a bruise slightly higher.

Damian still does not move. You linger there for a moment, sensing how aware he is of the presence of your hands where moments ago there had only been tension and exhaustion. It makes something warm settle in your chest and slowly your fingers shift again to follow the faint line of another mark. Then, another smaller bruise nearby. Each injury receiving the same response from you. You lips meet the skin of his shoulder to press a kiss there. Then another just below it. You kisses are unhurried and careful, as though you are mapping out proof that he had come home again. That he is there. Safe. Within your reach.

Damian exhales slowly and you feel it more than you hear it, “Beloved.” The words come out softer than before. They’re not a warning at all. “Yes?” You murmur against his skin. There is a pause that is long enough you begin to think he might tell you to stop. Instead, his arm around your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as you can get.

“Continue.” The single word sends a quiet warmth through you.

And you do continue. Another kiss, and then another until the action becomes something almost absentminded. As though you are simply breathing.

Damian watches you at first. His green eyes are entranced on your careful movement. Eventually, he relaxes and closes his eyes to fully bask in the tenderness of your care.

When you’ve finally kissed each and every bruise, scrape and cut , you pull away as though you are admiring a piece of art you had just created. Instead of art you admire Damian. You suppose he can could be considered art, the way the candlelight softens his features and his skin glistens from the water.

You look up at his eyes and notice just how close he is to falling asleep. A small spark of mischief returns where softness had settled. Your finger skim lightly through the water behind you and then, without warning, you flick a small splash towards his arm.

He cracks an eye open, “Did you just-”

Another splash. Slightly more water this time and aimed at his pretty face.

His scrunches his face and then brings a hand up to wipe his face. There’s a beat of silence before he gives you that look, “You are testing my patience.”

You giggle, “You were falling asleep on me.”

“I was not.”

“You were!”

His eyes narrow faintly. Then, without hesitation, he returns the splash. Except his is way sharper and precise, all things about him considered. It hits you shoulder causing you to gasp. At that he lets out a laugh. A warm laugh that comes straight from his chest. You smile wholeheartedly and send another splash his way.

Soon water scattered across the bath, rippling against the sides as the calm from earlier dissolved into something lighter and playful. The silence from earlier is also completely gone and instead filled with the rhythm of both your laughter.

Eventually, Damian lets out a long, resigned breath. “I think it’s time we get out.” You huff dramatically but make no attempt to argue, and the two of you begin getting out.

The bathroom is warm and steam clings to the mirrors, blurring the edges of the room as towels are gathered. The both of you move to the bedroom, rummaging for clothes, in quiet routine.

You turn around from where you stand by the drawers, wrapped loosely in a towel, as Damian reaches for something small on the dresser.

Your engagement ring.

He makes his way over to you, towel hung loosely around his hips. He takes your hand in his and slides the ring carefully into place.

“There.”

You smiled.

“There?”

His gaze meets yours, “Back where it belongs.”

You looked down at the ring before lifting you gaze back up to him. The ring wasn’t the only thing that was back where it belonged.

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