spideybatsy

[spideybatsy]

ari please give signs of life

Plis accept one fic and my apologies.

Bruce stroked your back and smiled a little. Warm from the bath and rubbed down with lotion. Covered in love bites and utterly pleasure drunk. You were asleep and snoring lightly- he considered it a successful evening.

He'd missed you. Being a pleasure dom wasn't- he'd never done that before he was with you. Not really. But- When you looked up at him, just resigned to going along with sex because that's just what you always did in a relationship. God. It sucked. You were so ready to just grin and bear it in the dark. To act impressed with him. Fake it to get it over with quickly.

And that, he was NOT willing to let happen. He'd stopped right there until he had... some tools. Some more toys. Until he had a better proof of concept for you. Until he could convince you that making you feel good was what did it for him- it was always at least a little true. But with you? He could watch you for days and never get bored.

You'd gotten so spoiled. It was adorable. You wanted him. You wanted him to love you and take care of you. You made him feel safe and secure enough to feel unashamed in your needs and wants- and that... that was a different kind of satisfying. Another kind of gift he never anticipated.

"Bruce?"

"Yes, Doctor?" he answered, stroking your back.

"Did we stop because you were mad at me?" you ask timidly.

"No," he hummed, holding you tighter and kissing the top of your head. "We stopped because you were incoherently pleasure drunk and I didn't think you could actually consent anymore," he chuckled. "I asked you if you remembered your safe word and all you could do was whimper- So I thought it was in your best interests to stop."

"Oh."

"But I wasn't angry at you. I was having a wonderful time. I missed you... and tying you to the bed."

"I missed you too," you murmur, nuzzling his chest. "Everything. Feels good. Safe."

"And there's no higher compliment I've ever been given," he said honestly," he said, cuddling you closer and tucking your furry blanket around you tenderly. Warmth spread through his chest. Lovers and sung his praises in the most elaborate terms, but no one had done it and meant it the way you did. "Do you need anything, sweetheart?"

"Just hold me? I don't- I don't feel right."

"I'm here. You're okay. You're safe," he soothed. "It's just a little drop. They can happen even if you feel good feelings. Things still get intense and your mind has trouble re-regulating the chemical receptors." He didn't know if that was right. Not really. But- it sounded good. And maybe that would help.

"You still love me?"

"Always," he murmured, "And tomorrow I'll prove it. With pancakes."

[spideybatsy]

they’re canceling me for the way I deal with grief. Also for all the severed heads and the bombings and the racketeering and the

[spideybatsy]

I-

17+ content, blank blogs dnf

overstim (again. oops), begging (again! oops), light impact play, dumbification if you squint, mating press, dickie boy’s a lil mean

dick grayson is always pushing you to your limits. he says it’s his job, as your amazing and supportive boyfriend, yk? telling you how good you’re doing, how proud he is, how honored he is to call such a strong and determined woman his girlfriend. in his eyes, it’s only right that he keeps pushing you. even when you’re tired and overstimulated, feeling like you couldn’t possibly give him anything more, and he still pulls it out of you like it should be nothing.

“mm… dick,” you pout, legs trembling and barely able to remain wrapped around his torso. you keep him close, hands curled deep into his hair and whining into his ear with each agonizingly deep thrust. he pants into the shimmering skin of your neck with a hm, as if he doesn’t know he’s got you near tears. “dick- i can’t…”

“don’t be like that, baby,” he huffs, positioning a leg over his shoulder to get his cock deeper in your weeping cunt. the cry you let out has him writhing, moaning with you as another orgasm is forced out of you. his pace refuses to falter, though- and his mouth is on yours before you can beg for any mercy. “look at that, sweetheart- you can.” you’re both sticky with sweat and the sheets are disgustingly soaked, yet he’s convinced his stamina as an acrobatic vigilante should speak for your stamina as well. you’ve yet to distinguish this between a punishment or a reward, and he probably hasn’t either.

the begging, the way you cling to him- he feels needed. relied on. he can’t get enough of it. hence why he’d rather watch your sore and aching pussy continue to suck him in, all puffy and creamed out with his cum. dick grayson, fucking you into his mattress and folding you like a lawn chair. strong grip on a handful of your hair just to force your chin to your chest, making you watch as your cunt squelches around the girth of his cock; cooing at you, telling you how pretty you look, drawing out all those cute noises- and he wouldn't have you looking any other way, just for him.

and just to embarrass you, he's waiting on you to string together words other than your pathetic pleas of his name. "what is it, doll? just talk to me," he teases, "c’mon- look at me while i fuck you, baby." he knows damn well you're fucked beyond words and comprehension and he uses it like the evil motherfuker he is, leaning until his chest meets yours and pulling out another one of those pretty whines. fixing your gaze to look up at him is the last thing on your mind, and your cries for him hardly suffice. “you hear me, sweetheart?”

“dick- oh my god, dick, please…” you’re babbling now, bleary-eyes losing focus as you give up on clinging to him and you aren’t even sure what you’re begging for. his poor girl, so fucked out on his cock and he doesn’t even consider being nicer.

“don’t even know what you want,” dick grunts, little slaps against your cheek seemingly meant to bring you back. they’re gentle but firm, making your eyes shoot back open when his hand grabs your face before you drift back off. “d’you even know what i said? tell me.” and all you can give him is a slurred cry of his name.

if you weren’t stuck between operational and fucked into unconsciousness, you’d tell him you’re done, that you can’t take anymore. mascara running, legs sore and trembling, arms limp behind your head rather than holding onto him. it’s at this point that you figure he just wants a pretty little sex toy to use over and over- and the realization is evident when dick flips you over without pulling out, holding your ass up and letting your upper body rest against the mattress as a courtesy.

“I can go for one more,” he assures, as if his exhaustion was the issue. if only you could give him a piece of your mind and let him know he’s getting an earful when you wake up- since there’s no doubt in either of your minds that you’re near passing out. “my poor girl, fucked all dumb on my dick. let me know when you need a break, mkay?” ❧

[spideybatsy]

18+ minors dni

what’s better than a 2 for 1 special? a 3 for 1 special! please cheer.

warnings: smidge of overstim 🤫

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

jason “move your hand” todd who pins your arms above your head to keep you out of his way. his face is inches from yours as he fucks you harshly into the mattress, enjoying the way you whine at every intrusion. your spine arches off the bed as you struggle under his grip, your sensitivity overwhelming you. “c’mon, ma,” he rasps, a cocky grin on his lips as you start to shake. “thought you said you could take it.”

dick “let me hear you” grayson who makes you beg for what you need. his hands rub your thighs lovingly as you glare at him and buck your hips in frustration, your aching cunt devastatingly empty despite the slow circles he’s rubbing on your clit. “you gotta tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he tuts gently, teasing his cock along your leaking entrance as you clench around nothing. “use your words for me.”

bruce “I’ll buy you another one” wayne who doesn’t bother waiting until you’re naked to fuck you. the delicate fabric of your gown snags on an old painting as he drives his cock into you while you’re pressed against the wall, filling you at an angle that makes you cry out with each thrust. “sorry about the dress, sweetheart,” he says between the sloppy kisses he’s peppering down your neck. “we’ll get a new one.”

[spideybatsy]

i have been constantly in tears over this newly hatched duck i found on instagram last night

[spideybatsy]

Me when dan and phil love and support each other (they have been doing this for years and it is completely expected and unsurprising)

[spideybatsy]

“kill them with kindness” Wrong. CURSE OF RA 𓀀 𓀁 𓀂 𓀃 𓀄 𓀅 𓀆 𓀇 𓀈 𓀉 𓀊 𓀋 𓀌 𓀍 𓀎 𓀏 𓀐 𓀑 𓀒 𓀓 𓀔 𓀕 𓀖 𓀗 𓀘 𓀙 𓀚 𓀛 𓀜 𓀝 𓀞 𓀟 𓀠 𓀡 𓀢 𓀣 𓀤 𓀥 𓀦 𓀧 𓀨 𓀩 𓀪 𓀫 𓀬 𓀭 𓀮 𓀯 𓀰 𓀱 𓀲 𓀳 𓀴 𓀵 𓀶 𓀷 𓀸 𓀹 𓀺 𓀻 𓀼 𓀽 𓀾 𓀿 𓁀 𓁁 𓁂 𓁃 𓁄 𓁅 𓁆 𓁇 𓁈 𓁉 𓁊 𓁋 𓁌 𓁍 𓁎 𓁏 𓁐 𓁑 𓀄 𓀅 𓀆

[spideybatsy]

can you not post nsfw :(

you come into my home uninvited and tell me how i should arrange my furniture? what a fool you are. skeleton divine death blast

[spideybatsy]

they would

[spideybatsy]

Stop…fetishizing….huge age…gaps They’re super toxic and…creepy..and…PREDATOR LIKE !!!!

[spideybatsy]

Do you want me to post this tomorrow, April 8th??

I usually post on Tuesdays, but it’s ready…

[spideybatsy]

big grumpass cat

[spideybatsy]

NASA advertising "do you want to be an astronaut" to tumblr users surely means something. What have you found out there, NASA? What have you found that you believe tumblr users, specifically, are best equipped to handle?

[spideybatsy]

Bruce, Nightwing, Red Hood and Oliver Queen spending the night with Reader for the first time?

So I'm assuming this meant to be the first time they sleep with reader yeah? I'll wing it.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Oliver Queen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, fluff, developing feelings, cuddles, marking, clothes shaking, teasing, first time together, mirror sex, spending the night

A/N: Ended up being way sweeter then I thought. Reblog, comment, or both if you want, let me know what you think, or just share the post, it means a lot to me you have no idea.

Bruce has a lot of things he wants to try out with you, eventually. For the first night he wants to keep it romantic. He wants to take of your clothes little by little, mapping your body with his mouth and tongue, and your taste, fuck, your taste, he could just eat you all night long and come all over his sheets just from that. Knows you want more then that, there will be time for him to selfishly indulge in you later, in every room in the mansion no less. For tonight he'll keep it in the bed room but that doesn't mean he'll let you off the hook, you'll go to the shower covered in hickies and his cum spilling from your well-fucked pussy.

Dick gets flustered when you're in his lap, making out and you take your shirt off over your head. He's seen you before, you've gotten pretty close to having sex a few times already, you had plenty of oral sex. Tonight is your first as a couple. He wants to be able to see everything you have, so he may or may not fuck you in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He loves being able to see your face, the little changes in your expression, how you arch into him, how you open for him, how your pussy urges his cock to come in deeper.

Jason doesn't want you fully naked for the first time. Yeah he wants to see you naked but for the actual fucking he wants you in his shirt. Its a bit of an ego boost for him, not to mention how big and comfy it looks on you. You are just too cute. Of course this means he needs to handle you with a bit of care at first but oh boy, the moment the two of you get going there's very little that can stop you from fucking against every flat surface in his apartment. You've got quite an appetite, which is good if you wanna keep up with him in the future. He's glad he chose you to be his girlfriend, and that you gave him a chance when he asked you out.

Oliver is so flirty and sweet with you, a little careful too. He's had many ladies share his bed, none so cute and shy as you. Takes his sweet time with you, setting the mood, slowly undressing you. The only way you knew how impatient he was being was because of his cock poking against your stomach. He starts out with just rubbing your clit, getting you wet so you can take him in one stroke. He did not think you'd come just from that. Oh well, the night is young and the two of you have all the time in the world.

[spideybatsy]

MINORS DNI 18+

BRUCE WAYNE leaves you sloppy. His unmatched endurance and stamina ensure your exhaustion, showing you exactly what a sex toy feels like. Manhandled into every position before your brain even had time to process where he wants you to go, those massive hands gripping your hair and your hip to yank you back onto his cock. It fills you up like no other, and pulls out your brains along with it. Sweaty, and panting hard, he leaves you in the mess on the bed. Your makeup is smeared and running, your hair a rat’s nest, and your pussy pulsing with the after effects of every cruel orgasm he drew from you. You’re sore and you’re positive you didn’t even do anything, a blur of buzzing pleasure and euphoria. Unable to think about anything else other than him and what he's just reduced you to. Some animal desperate for release, mewling and begging for him.

[spideybatsy]

Trans Visibility Day activities

(image id in alt, i hope!)

[spideybatsy]

Thank you for your work 🖤

The Other Half Part Twenty Six

Previous Part | Masterlist

Notes: Okay. After some very careful consideration and soul-searching, this is going to be the last official chapter of The Other Half. I'll still welcome asks, and writing prompt fills if I post/reblog them, but this is the end of the official series. I love Shop Girl and Bruce, and I think I'm leaving them in a good place; I hope you all feel the same.

Thank you as always for indulging my silly stories, and thank you for following me through this unexpected fic journey 💗💗

Warnings: Just smut and fluff.

Summary: You so rarely get to see Bruce this way—relaxed, calm, content…At least, you hope he’s content. Maybe his mind is racing with concern, with curiosity. You know that Bruce has a love and concern for Gotham. Sometimes you worry that you may never equal it. 

But the city can’t love Bruce the way you do. It won’t take him into its arms, won’t bandage his wounds or lay awake worrying for him at night. 

“Do I get a head start?” 

Bruce chuckles at your question as he pulls the car up in front of the mansion. 

“Depends. How far do you think you’ll be able to get?” 

You hum as you consider, tipping your head from side to side.

“The first landing.” You realize as soon as you say it that there’s absolutely no way you’ll make it that far in your new shoes. Bruce seems to know it, too, his brows jumping as he nods. 

“The first landing…And what do I get if I catch you?”

“Well, that’s up to you."

"Fine. Ten seconds—” 

“Wait a minute.” 

“What?” 

“What if I make it without you catching me?” 

Bruce tips his head a touch, a smug smile curling his lips and sending a thrill zipping through you. 

“Ten seconds,” He reiterates without answering your question. 

“Just ten?” 

“...Nine—” 

“Shit!” You scramble to undo your seat belt, hurrying out of the car as you hear Bruce turn it off. You fumble with your key, shoving the heavy door open and moving as quickly as you dare in your new heels, heading up the steps of the grand staircase. Your stomach flips as you hear the door close behind you, but you don’t dare turn to look. You make it up the first few steps, heart ticking up in your chest as you hear Bruce’s footsteps quick and gain on you. You’re three steps from your target—

You shriek as Bruce’s arms hook around your middle, easing you to a stop as your fingers just miss the first landing. Your giggling is marred by your heavy panting as Bruce presses more heavily against you, easing the two of you down against the steps. 

“So fucking close,” You manage.

“With a head start.” Bruce’s reminder is chased by a kiss to your shoulder. His hands smooth over your hips as you gently twist in his arms to face him, scooching back onto the landing. Bruce’s lips are on yours in a second, slipping tenderly against them. You draw your knees up to cradle his hips, groaning as he presses closer. His hands slip under your dress, easing the skirt higher. You swallow thickly, sucking in a nervous breath as his kisses drift to your neck. 

“Bruce—” 

“Mm.” 

“Alfred—?”

“He’s at the penthouse.” 

You let yourself relax at that, relieved that you won’t have to worry about him wandering by or hearing you. You bite your lip as Bruce’s hands smooth up your inner thighs, tipping your hips up as his fingers hook in the seat of your panties, exposing your heated flesh to cool air. You shiver as he brushes his knuckle gently against your plumping lips, his eyes growing dark as his gaze sweeps up your front.

He leans back, pushing your thighs wide with his broad shoulders. He eases your panties more tightly to the side, the lace pushing almost harshly against the crease of your hip. He holds your gaze as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your mound. His kisses drift lower, his tongue teasing at your slit. Each touch has a hint more pressure than the last. 

Your eyelids flutter, and you let your head tip back, lowering yourself against the rug on the landing. Bruce draws one of your legs up over his shoulders, baring you to him more fully. His tongue strokes your clit for a few moments before he delves lower, groaning softly at the taste of you. Your toes curl in your shoes as Bruce laps broadly across your pussy. He never settles, tongue and fingers stretching and teasing you until you’re shaking, grinding down into his touch.

Your whimpers and moans echo in the cavernous front hall as curls and twists his fingers, pushing you closer to your release. You finally cum with a shout, back arching as your hips bound against him. Bruce only draws away when you gently push at his forehead, his sucking kisses against your clit turning to a gentle nuzzle against your inner thigh. 

You sigh softly as he draws his hand away, standing. You reach up, palming his hard cock beneath his trousers. He groans, taking hold of your hand and tugging you up. 

“Lemme—” 

“Not here.” 

“Bruce," You pout.

“Don’t worry,” He leads the way toward the stairs. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

“I don’t get another head start?” 

“Do you really think you can outrun me after that?” Bruce asked, throwing you a knowing glance over his shoulder. You smiled guiltily, giggling as he grins. 

-- 

“...You still awake back there?” You mumble. It’s a few long moments before Bruce lets out a soft, hazy hum, his arms tightening around your middle as he cuddles closer, nuzzling between your shoulder blades. You smile, rolling over to face him. His eyes are closed, hair mussed from where you had grasped and tugged it. Your body feels almost syrupy as you move against him. You’d been certain that he’d get up and check on the news once the two of you were through, but he’d stayed true to his word, cuddling up in bed even after you had gotten cleaned up. 

You raise a hand, gently stroking his cheek. He hums, face tipping up into the caress. You know that you’re going to need to savor this while you have it. You so rarely get to see Bruce this way—relaxed, calm, content…At least, you hope he’s content. Maybe his mind is racing with concern, with curiosity. You know that Bruce has a love and concern for Gotham. Sometimes you worry that you may never equal it. 

But the city can’t love Bruce the way you do. It won’t take him into its arms, won’t bandage his wounds or lay awake worrying for him at night. 

Your hand settles on his jaw, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. You smile as he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm. 

But the city isn’t held by Bruce the way you are, either. 

“Thank you,” You murmur. Bruce’s eyes blink open slowly, fixing on you as he smiles sleepily.

“For what?” 

“For today. For…Everything,” You shake your head a little. “Everything that you do, and are, I just…Thank you.” 

Bruce leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. His hands skim up your back, drawing you into his chest, legs tangling together as if you can fuse to one another. 

“Today was good?” He mumble buzzes against your lips, and you grin. 

“Today was amazing and you know it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything that could’ve made it better?” 

You consider for a moment, gaze lowering to his chest. Michelle’s prediction rattles in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…But—

“No—” 

“What’s that face for?” 

You can’t sneak anything by him. 

“Nothing.”

“...Baby,” He plies softly. You sigh, shaking your head. 

“It’s not—It’s just something Mish said.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“...She thought you were going to propose.” 

Bruce doesn’t lean away like you expect him to. His hands just continue their gentle circles against your back. 

“Did you think I was going to?” He asks. 

“No.” 

“Do you want me to?” 

It’s a fair question; it’s something the two of you have neglected to discuss since your fight. And as happy as you are in this moment with Bruce, you know that it isn’t a true representation of your relationship. You’ve had as many lows as you’ve had highs, and the lows have been devastating. 

“...I don’t know,” You admit. You hear Bruce draw a deep breath in through his nose, and you see him nod a little out of the corner of your eye. 

“Okay.”

You don’t ask if he wants to. You don’t think you could handle the answer just now, either way. 

“Well,” Bruce does let go of you then, reaching over and opening his bedside drawer, “There was one more thing I meant to give you today. Before you get jumpy, it isn’t a ring, but it is something special.” You push yourself to sit up as Bruce scooches back, holding out a velvet jewelry box. Your brow furrows as you take hold of it. You give him a guarded, nervous look before you open it. Your stomach flips, and tears prickle at your eyes when you catch sight of your discarded lariat necklace. You haven’t seen it since you ripped it off and called him a coward, and you’d been certain you would never see it again. But there’s something different about it than you remember. 

You reach down, trailing your finger over the strand and coming to stop just above another jewel. 

“...I thought—” 

“It was a diamond,” Bruce nods, “But…” He reaches out, gingerly lifting the necklace out of the box and fastening it around your neck. “I wanted to give it a personal touch.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Bruce traces his finger along the silver, brushing against the dangling emerald before he gently slides his fingers beneath the new addition. 

“This was one of my mother’s pearls.” 

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move or breathe or think. Bruce’s gaze flits to your face, sweeping your no doubt stunned expression. 

“I thought about proposing tonight,” He admits, “But I think we need more time. That doesn’t mean that I can’t make you a promise—a promise to be honest with you. A promise to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives. A promise to come home to you every night.” Bruce raises his hand, curling his fingers around your trembling jaw.  “To keep my temper out of it, to push through the hard things with you instead of running from you—running from us. And to fight for this as hard as I fight for Gotham—and harder, when I need to.”