I Have Been Watching Seven Kids All Day Long And Need To Project The Trauma Of Parenting Somewhere, So...

I see alot of batfam being possessive over their bfs....but how abt the bfs being possessive over the bats??

The bats are popular both sides of their jobs. Heroes fawn over them, in galas they are the center of attention and that sometimes sparks a possessive tingle inside their respective partners.

QUEUE THE SCENARIOS

Superbat

Bruce was in his usual situation during galas like this - surrounded by many of the billionaires e millionaires that wanted a piece of attention from THE Bruce wayne.

Bruce had that charming smile, the lidded blue eyes and the slight messy hair, the perfect image of handsome playboy he meticulous preserved. This particular crowd had many handsome men - tall, good smile, well dressed- and beautiful women - elegant, good make up - and they were all around Bruce age or younger.

Clark was not liking this at all.

Usually, he wasn't the jealous possessive type. He trusted Bruce, both in and out of costume. He knew that the playboy persona was just a fake mask and a way to maintain his hero identity hidden. They have been together for a long time, friends even longer, so clark had a lot of trust in Bruce.

But this galas always makes clark uncomfortable because of how people interact with Bruce and he doesn't know how long will he be able to stay put and not do something stupid.

"Your face says everything" Yes Lois was with him because she's reporting on the gala. More like annoying clark but who cares.

"I don't know what you talking abt."

"You are reeking with jealousy"

Clark looks at her and gives up, bc he can't hide shit from her "Yeah Lois, he's surrounded by handsome, rich people, of course I'm jealous"

"Okay then why don't you go there and go get your man? Everyone knows you two are dating, so just go there and snatch him"

He was abt to protest when she just ruffled his hair even more, letting the curls drop and open the button of his cream colored shirt and told him to take off the jacket.

"Why?!"

"You wanna go seduce Bruce with a checkered jacket?? Jesus, we don't need your Smallville boyscout we need clark who wants to fuck bruce"

Jesus Lois could be so crude sometimes, and clark was from Kansas. But she was right. Clark looked over to the crowd and saw one man - one that had been inching over to bruce little by little - putting a hand on Bruce's arm and letting it drop to the side of Bruce's waist.

Nah, fuck it. Clark was pulling out his Kansas farm boy. No one touches Bruce like that.

As he made his way over, Clark open another button of his shirt, pulled his curls even more over his face and let his glasses slide just a bit to rest on the bridge of his nose.

Clark slides behind Bruce, arm snakes around his waist, pulls him away from the man into his chest and smirks at his surprised face.

"Hey, darling!" Clark's rolls his tongue the way Bruce likes, letting some of the accent slip just to hit home faster.

Bruce blinks once, twice, loss from words and trying his best to not melt on the spot "h-hey, clark"

Clark pouts a bit, tilting his head and pulling the puppy eyes "I was over there all alone while you were here talking with all this people, I missed you sweetheart"

"O-oh" Bruce clears his throat "I'm sorry clark, I didn't mean to leave you alone"

"It's okay, you know, but I think it's time to give me some attention. Well, if you excuse us, I'm gonna take him away for a bit" clark leans forward and whispers semi loud for those close by to hear "I gotta make sure you know who owns you." And smiles, all sweet and charming, pulling a stunned and red face Bruce from the crowd.

"Clark-"

"Shut up. We gonna go to your bedroom, you gonna strip and I'm gonna fuck you until I feel like stopping." He looks at Bruce all serious "and you know have stamina for it"

Bruce just nods, dumb and horny and not caring for anything else.

Birdflash | jayroy | timkon | jondami

(If there's any other bat ship I should held, just say!!)

Everyone sleeps on Gaz, he fits with everyone if you want him in a ship!

Ghost Gaz? He is still understanding and bright enough to combat Ghosts grumpiness, and he's still smart and sticks with it.

Gazprice? You got a captain sergeant dynamic, get Gaz being able to give cheek, and sweet price with the sergeant he stole.

Gaz soap? I mean seriously? Those two are the epitome of drunk make outs with your mates. Friendships, and chaos.

Give Gaz love!!

Johnny's knee hurts. Price helps him feel better.

cw: messy blowjob. For the @continentcakeshop, who love Johnny.

Johnny shifted his foot for the third time in ten minutes and felt the now familiar twinge through his knee. He couldn't decide what was worse; the constant dull ache of keeping it stationary, like it needed to click, which was driving him batshit insane, or the sharp burn of a quick stretch that made his entire body jolt, knocking the table he was sharing with the boss man himself.

“You broken?” Price asked, tapping the blunt nib of his biro against the manilla folder by his form.

“Naw, sir. Jus’ me bum knee. S’givin’ me grief cause it's cald outside.”

“You been t’ the physio?”

“Not fer a few weeks. No time, ye know…” Johnny gestured aimlessly at the paperwork in front of him. When he'd signed up at fifteen and nine months, he hadn't expected to spend so long with a damn pen in his hand instead of a firearm.

Price hummed and Johnny watched his whiskers twitch as they tended to do when he was mulling something over. Then came the full face grimace as he considered his options. The biro clattered to the table moments later, the chair legs scraping against the concrete floor. “Olrigh’, can't ‘ave ya fallin’ behind. Keks down, leg up ‘ere.”

Johnny blinked owlishly, first at Price's hands as they patted his lap and then at the intense blue eyes watching him from beneath thick eyebrows. “Come again.”

“C’mon, MacTavish. Don't ‘ave all day. Boot off, drop ‘em. Quick rub down will make it feel better.”

Oh, he wasn't taking the piss. Well, shit. Johnny glanced at Price's hands again, big, weathered, with long clever fingers and a scar across the knuckles from where Price had skinned them open on the steel-plated jaw of a Kortac operator. The thought of having them on his body in any capacity made a sudden surge of heat fill his belly.

His knee gave another unrepentant throb and he stood awkwardly to undo his belt, jamming the heel of his boot against the toe of the other to kick it off before loosening the laces. He managed to slide his leg out, the knee support catching on his waistband, before slumping back into the chair. His foot hovered off the floor, suddenly conscious of how fuckin’ filthy his sock was. And how tight his boxers were.

“Ain't got all night,” Price said. “Stop bein’ a pansy. Ain't gonna ‘urt ya.”

Johnny scowled and extended his leg, setting it gingerly across Price's lap while his hands cupped over his crotch. “Naw one says pansy any more, old man.”

Price raised an eyebrow as he hooked Johnny's knee support and coaxed it down his calf muscle, bunching it at his ankle as he wrinkled his nose. “This sock ever seen a washin’ machine?”

“Oh feck, now ye really sound like me pa.”

“I was eleven years old when you were born, I ain't yer dad, MacTavish.” Price chucked the support and the filthy sock onto the floor and ran his thumbs up the sides of Johnny’s leg, pressing into the swollen ligaments and tendons either side of his patella. The sensation sat keenly on the threshold of pain and pleasure; Price couldn't press too hard without oil, but his pressure was damn perfect.

“Oh, fuck… mmm, aye, but I c’n still call ye dad–”

“If ya finish that sentence, ‘m gonna dislocate yer knee cap.”

“Aye, sir."

Johnny tried to stay quiet. He yapped when he was nervous and Jesus wept he was nervous now. Not because it hurt - god, fuck, Price’s hands were a damn dream - but because the heat in his belly was spreading out through the rest of him; a warm, fuzziness humming just below his skin. As the dull ache ebbed into a low throb, Johnny’s chin tilted down and his eyes lidded. He watched those strong hands work, manipulating his muscles and tendons like putty, pressing to and fro in easy glides that left Johnny lightheaded.

Johnny bit back a moan. Price was good. He knew what he was doing. Didn't stay only around the knee, but rubbed behind it and slightly down the calf to ease the resulting tension from where the rest of his leg was overcompensating. That was all fine… it was when those thumbs went up his thigh, one on the hairy outside, the other up the milky soft skin of the inner, that the whole arrangement got a bit spicy.

Johnny was getting hard. Proper hard, not just a cheeky little chubby. He could feel the wet patch in the cotton where his leaking tip was pushing up against his palm. Fuck, fuck. His eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to distract himself. Mentally listing off the steps for stripping a gun, the ingredients for a pipe bomb, the starting fifteen for Man City–

“Ev’ryfin olrigh’, Soap?”

Johnny’s eyes blinked open and he realised he'd been damn panting. Price hadn't stopped though. One hand had wandered a little higher, massaging his thigh muscle while the other cupped beneath his calf. Just a little higher and he could slide his cock into his captain's palm. Those callouses would feel unreal against the silky skin of his shaft… no, no, normal thoughts. Normal.

“Aye, sir. Sorry. Jus’... Uh…”

“Feels good,” Price finished for him. “Been a while for more ‘an jus’ physio then.” There was a wry amusement to his tone and Johnny’s lower lip pushed up in a pout, his face flushing red.

“S’not what it looks like.”

“Looks like yer hard from a little tenderness, sergeant.”

“Fuck, don't tell anyone, ah’ll do dogsbody in officer’s mess fer a whole month.”

“Oof, humiliatin’.”

“Not as humiliatin’ as Garrick takin’ the pish cause ah got a stonner for me captain,” Johnny blurted out, making it infinitely worse. “Fuck.”

Price snorted a laugh and Johnny’s eyes blew owlishly wide again. Those big hands were still working; any pain had faded, and only a warm pleasure remained, pressure coiling in his groin. Price hummed. “Maybe I can help ya with that too. If yer up for it.”

“What?” Johnny squeaked. Price was a gay man. That was no secret. He was one of the few gay men in the service that Johnny had ever encountered that endured precisely fuck all abuse about it. No cunt was daft enough to even try. Johnny had been too feart to own his sexuality, but Price had probably heard Grindr ping one too many times to be left under any illusion that Johnny was straight.

“Yer not the only one goin’ through a bit of a dry spell. Offer’s there.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. He couldn't lift his eyes from Price's hands, watching those strong thumbs circle either side of his knee again, prick throbbing in the confines of his boxers. Of all the days to wear his snug Calvin Kleins that left nothing to the imagination. The bulge had filled his palms now. He could pull away, put a stop to it, but he didn't want to. He wanted Price’s hand wrapped around his prick. “Aye.”

“Whot?”

“Aye, sir… ah’d like some… help,” Johnny finished lamely, his fingers tightening over his cock as he shifted his arse in the chair.

Price blinked at him slowly, leaning back in his chair. Johnny’s leg shifted a little, foot tilting out, and he saw it for the first time. A huge fuck off bulge in the front of Price's Carhartts. “Oh-ho, fuck me, look at the size of it,” Johnny wheezed, and then clicked his mouth shut, lips sucked in so he could chew on them before murmuring, “Respectfully… sir.”

Price chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face, nails raking down through his beard around the edges of his grin. “‘m gonna be glad ev’ryone's on leave, un’ I?”

Johnny flushed to the tips of his ears. “Ah can be wheesht.”

“Nah, don't be.” Price took Johnny's ankles and lowered his leg slowly to the floor. Johnny licked his lips as anticipation bubbled in his chest, hands still clasped over his crotch despite the futility of trying to hide his erection. His eyes somehow widening further as Price slipped from his seat and onto his knees between Johnny’s feet.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Johnny breathed, hands shaking as Price took them and guided them away from where they still cupped protectively over his cock. He felt the warm puff of Price's breath over the hair on his belly and the damp spot on his boxers, and his toes curled against the floor. Those weathered fingers stroked up his thighs, over soft cotton to the elastic of his waistband. Johnny’s cock flicked gratefully free, ruddy and dark compared to the rest of him, and he sucked in a sharp hiss through his teeth as cool air found his wet slit.

“Well, pretty all over, ain’tcha, sergeant?”

Johnny knew he had a nice dick, good girth, nice upward curve to hit all the right spots and a respectable length. He'd taken enough selfies with it and then had his phone blow up to know, but to hear Price say it in that silky rumble made him go weak. His hips squirmed, and he bit his lower lip as Price's beard rubbed on his inner thigh, followed by the softness of his lips as he kissed a trail up. Johnny fingers bit into the outside of his legs as they pushed out, urging Price to get to his destination. “Please, sir…”

“Relax, soldier. I gotcha.”

Finally, Price grasped Johnny’s cock, fingers pushing through the coarse thatch of hair at the base. Johnny let out a soft whine, shaft flicking in Price’s grip as a thick pearl of precum welled from his slit. It was sweet, sweet torture. A mixture of relief and yearning that made his entire body light up. Price’s thumb swept below his waistband, brushing the swell of his sac, before he stroked up, fingers brushing over the flare of Johnny’s crown.

Johnny groaned, head flopping back because he needed to briefly thank fucking God for blessing his dick and promise to visit confession at some point in the next decade to repent for lusting after his captain's hands and mouth. He couldn't take his fucking eyes off Price for long, and he looked back in time to watch Pricd ease his his foreskin back, the wicked tip of his tongue pushing though Johnny’s slit to lap it clean of pre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… god, shite, ahh, sir, mmm.”

The lines around Price's eyes deepened in amusement, and then his eyes slid closed in what Johnny could only describe as bliss as he kissed the thick vein down Johnny's length, brushing the tip of his nose across silky skin until it buried against Johnny's groin with a soft groan. “Mm, fuck, ya smell good.”

Johnny spread his legs a little further, lifting his arse when Price tugged his boxers to bring them further down his thighs. The heat of his mouth enveloped Johnny’s balls, his tongue pressing down the seam, Johnny's cock resting against his cheek as he tasted his full. Johnny panted through parted lips, one hand finally leaving his leg to slide around the back of his captain's head to pull his face closer. “Aye… sir, fuck… ahh.”

The moan that rumbled from Price’s chest rolled up Johnny’s body like an earthquake, and he heard the clatter of a buckle as Price fumbled with his belt to free his cock. Jacking himself off to the taste of Johnny’s sac in his mouth. When he finally drew away, he left Johnny's dark curls wet with spit, his blue eyes lidded, drunk on Johnny's musk and the pleasure of his hand pumping slowly up and down his own cock.

“God, yer a fuckin’ bonny picture, sir. Love tae suck cock, eh? Fuck.”

Price didn't say anything, just licked back up the underside of Johnny’s prick to draw the tip into his mouth. The wet glide of Price's tongue around his glans made Johnny groan, and he lifted his hips, pressing his tip over the ridges at the top of Price's mouth, fingers tightening at the back of his head. Price didn't need much encouragement to sink down, but he did so at his own pace, slowly, torturously, sucking Johnny deeper into the glorious wet heat of his mouth until Johnny’s head hit the back of his throat.

Johnny held him there for moment, admiring the stretch of his lips around the heft of his shaft, the lidded, fucked out enjoyment in his eyes, the way his broad shoulders were completely relaxed as he palmed himself lazily. Bonny was right. Johnny wondered what he'd be like on his back with his hands pinned above his head, what his moans might sound like when they weren't muffled by cock…

Price drew off, sucking greedily until he reached the tip, before lowering again in a steady glide, fucking his own mouth on Johnny's prick. Johnny moaned loudly with each dip of Price’s head, his thighs shaking as warm, irresistible pleasure curled in his hips, through his belly, his balls firming up beneath Price's chin. “Ah, ah, sir, fu-mm, fuck, yer mouth… is… ahh.”

And then Price swallowed him down proper. Johnny felt the pop as his head pushed into Price's throat, the clenching tightness made him choke out a low, trembling moan, Price’s nose buried against his groin. The sound of Price’s pumping hand, the wet slap of skin, grew more urgent and the thought that Price was even more turned on by having Johnny in his throat was dizzying. When he began to bob his head again, half choking on Johnny’s cock, Johnny knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

He didn't know where to put his hands, bunching Price's hair between his fingers, scrubbing them over his beard just feels the bristles against his fingertips, sliding them down his throat to feel his Adam's apple bob and strain around his cock.

His heels lifted from the floor, toes pushing into the cold concrete, a sharp contrast to the blistering, pulsing heat of his captain's mouth as it milked him. He babbled incoherently, half Scots, half unintelligible English slurred out like a drunk at last orders, delirious with pleasure as saliva and precum pooled around his groin. His thumb stroked over Price's cheeks, pressing to feel the glide of his shaft through them and trace the damp of the tears that tracked from hazy blue eyes.

“Sir, ah’m, sir…” Johnny tried to tug him off because a gentleman didn't cum down a fella’s throat without asking, but Price fucking growled like a wolf having its meal stolen and that was enough to punch Johnny over into a heady climax. “Sir, fuck!” His stomach clenched, toes pushing against the floor as his hips lifted from the chair. Price kept sucking, drinking every drop offered by Johnny’s twitching prick. It coaxed him higher until he was whimpering in fucked out bliss, his fingers shaking in his captain's hair. Just as he was tipping over into oversensitivity, Price pulled off and pressed his face into the sweaty crease of Johnny's thigh, arm moving furiously, hips humping as he fucked his own grip.

“Yeah, g’won, sir, gonna come for me, liked havin’ my prick down ye throat, belly full of my cum.” Johnny stroked Price’s hair and watched his eyes roll back, his shoulders seizing, as he came hard into his fist. He panted between Johnny's legs, catching his breath for a moment, before he slumped back into his heels. Johnny took the opportunity to look down at his prick, still semi-hard, and he sucked in a breath. “Fuck, look at tha’ beast… ye top with tha’ weapon?”

“Only if you ya’sk nicely,” Price rasped. The sound of his throat, fucked raw, made Johnny's soft prick twitch against his thigh.

“How nicely?”

“State secret. S’classified.”

“I’ll steal L.T.’s clearance,” Johnny replied testily, and his hunch was rewarded with a quirk of the eyebrows. “Knew it.”

Price chuckled hoarsely. “Clean up. Got work t’ finish.” He rolled to his feet and for a beautiful moment his cock bobbed close to Johnny’s face. Be seein’ ye soon, sweet thing.

“Can't, ye jus’ sucked me brain out me prick.”

“Now, MacTavish.”

Johnny's mouth clicked shut, and then he mumbled a “yessir” as he pulled his boxers and jeans back on. He'd be lying if he said it was somewhat difficult to focus on the reports for the rest of the evening, especially when he lifted a foot to tease Price's crotch and the bastard spread his legs to give access. Didn't even flinch though. Wily git.

Bruce and Clark have a special rooftop, one that is high enough, with enough things to hide them from whatever can catch them, where they can pull the heroes personas off and just idly talk about anything.

The lights from the city reach them, but at the same time the moonlight gives them comfort. Their legs dangle from above, floor so far away, but both don't pay attention.

This rooftop was the one where they first met, where they had their first fight, where they first showed their identities, where clark met dick and all the rest of the birds, where clark told Bruce he got married to Lois, where Bruce said he was dating Selena, where clark said he had a son with Lois, where clark said he was divorced, where Bruce told clark about his encounter and assault with Talia, and then where Bruce showed Damian.

That rooftop held memories of every important matter in their life, that rooftop witness a dictionary of emotions expressed by the both of them, that rooftop their sanctuary.

Today was no different. Cowl off, persona off, feet dangling, postures relaxed and faces happy. Clark was telling an anecdote from work and Bruce was laughing that laugh that was deep and genuine, that clark had the privilege to hear.

Clark was looking at Bruce laughing and speaking, his eyes soft and a turn up of lips always present. They were best friends, close partners and a constant presence in each other's lives. The first person to always enter his mind was Bruce. He hadn't realize how Bruce dictated his life without even trying, Clark was always thinking about Bruce and what Bruce thought.

Clark never realized that what he felt for Bruce was more than just a friendship. But now, looking at the fair skin illuminated by the city lights and perfected by the moonlight, eyes wrinkled from laughing and pale blues gazing on his own, Clark felt something explode inside himself, something that was stuck but finally made itself known.

Oh. I love this man.

Bruce had his head turn towards clark, about to ask what's wrong because of the stretched silence from clark, but he didn't get to say anything because clark leaned in with a fleeting confidence and kissed Bruce.

It was frightening, it was amazing. It was scary, it was wonderful. It was the end of the world, it was everything he asked for.

And when Bruce kissed back, oh, Clark wanted to float so bad and just let the wind take him because it was just like a dream.

It started off as soft, little nips here and there, their lips moving in a sync that rivaled their battle forms. They kept their hands to themselves, just focusing on kissing and savoring each other. Bruce pushed back, deepening the kiss and clark let him, willingly opening his lips to feel Bruce's tongue exploring and tasting, playing with Clark's tongue.

It felt like hours when they pulled back. Bruce was catching his breath because he was only human, and clark was catching his for a whole different reason. Both looked at each other, confirming and smashing any remaining doubts they might have left, before they both smiled and chuckled at whatever.

"Do you want to go back to the manor?"

Clark giggled "if Alfred allows me to."

"It's worth the try."

(I was inspired by this umikochannart on twitter and Instagram!! Plz check her out she has amazing artstyle and amazing superbat fanart!!!)

Price: sunshine?

Soap: yes, captain?

Price: baby?

Gaz: yes, captain?

Price: little baby boy, cutie patotie, sweetheart, light of my life?

Ghost: what the actual f?!?!

Hi!! I'm xana!! Welcome to my page!! I go by she/her and I'm from Portugal

I'm 23 years old, masters student and im an artist and a writer!! I'm mainly in different fandoms and post anything I feel like it or I'm inspired to write/draw about!!

English ain't my first language so spare me plz.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MINORS DO NOT FOLLOW

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MASTERLIST(WRITING)

MASTERLIST(ART)

ABOUT WRITING!!!!

When I'm writing explicit smut I will use a red heading to warn, and semi explicit smut an orange heading.

What I don't write:

Non-con

Anything with children and smut

Gore and dead dove do not eat

I accept any constructive criticism about my writing but besides that I will either ignore or block you bc I'm to write what I want, not what yall demand.

ABOUT DRAWING

Im still learning my style and drawing fundamentals, so I'm going to make mistakes and it will look bad for some.

My art is very colorful (bc I'm obsessed with colors) and I'm studying comic book style (still experimenting) I use alot of references for poses and fits!!

I draw lots of men in female clothes and suggestive poses too. I also draw women the same way - BUT IF THERES ANYTHING 18+ I WILL WARN

Plz don't hesitate from dming me if I do something wrong or I'm supporting someone bad, I don't know everything that is happening and I'm not always online!!!

Besides that, don't be afraid to talk to me!!

Accepting COD rec fics bc I don't wanna go look for them honestly jsnsns I'm lazyyy

Anything, ( except reader or y/n i dont like those) specially poly 141 is very very welcome

Happy Valentines Day

I like to think they're a pretty private couple, only ever being affectionate behind closed doors

Roy Harper is hot and no one can make me think otherwise. He's hot in a sense of nasty hot, like he knows he's hot so he will act on it. Tight white t-shirt and spread legs kind of hot. It's also bc I like gingers.

Anyways he's hot. He knows that, dick knows that, Ollie knows that, Kory knows that. Ya know who else knows that?? Jason.

Jason has his issues with intimacy and sometimes he hesitates, due to that it took some time to realize that the hot feeling in hi stomach was his attraction to roy. Basically, he discovered that he found roy hot af.

Does he know what to do?? Yes, he knows what flirting is and is good at doing it. Is he afraid of acting on it?? Yes, maybe bc of his issues. Does he want to confess to roy and finally touch that piece of hot meat? Yes, absolutely Yes. But will he??

He doesn't have to, because roy beat him to it. Turns out roy likes them crazy, traumatized but deep down loving. He likes jason.

Does Bucky know it's legal now? Has anybody told him?