#sigh when i got the virginity ask i was like 'is this targeted advertising...?' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hatkuu · 7 months

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m!kylar with a superr virgin f!pc? 😵‍💫

eheheh kylar probably drools over you when you tell him you're a sweet lil virgin. you want him to have your virginity? he's a virgin too! you can have eachothers- it'd be so romantic and wow he's getting so hard just thinking about it and-

discussions of virginity, virgin kink(? you're both virgins so ...), classic kylar obsessive behaviour... nsfw utc!!

"Y-You haven't d-done that sort of thing...?"

You avoid his gaze - it's lecherous, like he thinks you're a liar - your cheeks are too hot and your heart is beating far too fast to even glance at Kylar right now. You still respond to him, stuttering all the while. You find a lot of interest in your beat-up shoes while you ramble out an excuse.

"I, um... I never got around to doing it... A-And I'm just... too nervous to really ask anyone to do it with, so..."

Your words trail off, you overcome your embarrassment, glancing at Kylar's face. His mouth is agape, his eyes are wide, lips slightly chapped as he shakily breathes in and out. His hands are clutching onto his hoodie for dear life, nails digging into the fabric like a feral animal. You avert your eyes awkwardly. You cough.

nsfw under the cut!

"...Have you lost yours?"

Kylar's breath hitches in a flurry of panic. His eyes are wide at your question, offended that you think that he'd let anyone but you touch him!

"No!"

He pauses, fiddling with his hands as the air turns even more awkward between the two of you.

"I-I'm waiting for someone special,"

You watch him twiddle his thumbs together. Kylar's face is just as hot and heavy as your own, maybe even more so. His hair, slightly greasy, cascades over his eyes as he bows his head in embarrassment. His eyes, though you can't see them right now, are cute, - constantly wide and always staring at you - very cute.

"O-Oh, yeah I get that..."

You're dating Kylar.

He's a very sweet boyfriend but... you can't help but notice how weird he is when you're around other people.

But you promised him this and you can't take it back.

His cock, fat and heavy, bobs against your abdomen, throbbing with excitement as Kylar pants. He's leering down at you, watching pearls of pre-cum rivulet off of the tip onto your soft, delicious skin. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you - you can't help but flush under his gaze - no one's ever seen you like this and you itch to cover your naked chest.

"I'll make it feel good, I-I promise,"

Kylar groans loud when his fingers press against your entrance, the feeling of your heartbeat against him proving too much to bear as a thick droplet of pre-cum leaks out onto your stomach. He pulls his fingers to his mouth, licking and tasting your essence from them. Drool coats his fingers, thick and viscous like honey.

"This'll make it easier to put them in..."

You're grateful Kylar's hands are small, but from your position laying underneath him, they look long. You whimper, your hips shifting against his hand as his drool-coated fingers catch on your wet and waiting hole.

"K-Kylar,"

His middle finger slides in, eased by your wetness and Kylar's saliva. Twitching inside of you, Kylar finger wiggles, touching and feeling the hot, gummy flesh of your walls. Kylar breathes in shakily, probing at your untouched hymen.

"I'll put another one in, okay my love?"

You weakly nod, too overwhelmed by the sensation of different fingers that are not your own exploring your insides. The other finger slips in and you whimper, feeling your weak hole stretch to accommodate it. Kylar bites his lip, reopening an old wound in the process. He shuffles downward, hovering over your pussy as you look back at him wide-eyed.

"Kylar w-wait-"

"I-I'll make it feel better, I promise,"

His lips catch on your clit, kissing it reverently before you can squeal at him to stop. He laves at your folds, tasting you, devouring you. His tongue feels strange and you gasp at the feeling of it, thighs twitching at the hot sparks of pleasure that ensue. Your fingers tangle in his hair, grappling yourself onto the dark greasy locks to stabilise your shaky, pleasure-addled body. You moan loud, legs kicking out to wrap around Kylar's shoulders as he happily pumps his fingers in and out of you, licking at your pussy like a man starved.

"Was that, was that good?"

Kylar pants, pulling away from your pussy, ignoring your cries and demanding grip on his scalp. He smiles up at you, kissing the inside of your thigh before sitting up on his knees, positioning himself against your entrance. "My cock will feel better than just fingers - I-I'll go slow - you'll love it." Kylar promises it, rubbing himself against your folds as you writhe and moan.

The head of his cock catches on your entrance and your eyes bulge outward at the sheer size of it. It's bigger than Kylar's fingers. Much bigger.

"I-It's okay," Kylar cooes, pressing forward with just enough pressure that barely half the tip slips inside you. "I'll take care of you-"

It's a tight, tight fit that Kylar can't handle. His hips ache to thrust forward and fuck but he can't because that'd hurt you and he loves you and-

"K-Kylar-" You gasp out his name, reaching out to hold his hands and Kylar can't refuse you, not when you look at him with such pretty tearful eyes. Not when you're so tight and gorgeous and perfect for him. His hands grab your own, entertwining your fingers together in a loving caress.

He pants above you, face flushed red. His eyes are twitching all over your body, you can see the hesitance within them, and you realise that he's waiting for you.

"Y-You can move-" You whisper, squeezing his hands reassuringly, hips shifting against the head of his cock to encourage him. Kylar whimpers, his hips push forward, slow and gentle, just for you.

His cock breaches past your hymen, obliterating it, ruining it beyond repair. Kylar cries out, your walls squeezing against him, halting his movements entirely. His head buries itself into the crux of your neck, kissing and biting at you as his cock works you open. Soon you'll only know the feeling of him inside of you - you'll crave it - and you'll beg him for more. Kylar smiles against you just thinking about it, you're his now! His little slutty girlfriend that fits his cock so well, his future wife.

Kylar's hips snap hard against your own at the thought of it.

You've given him apart of yourself you can never take back - he wants all of your virginities - just one won't suffice now. You have other holes. Don't you want him to make love to those as well?

#dol kylar #kylar the loner #kylar #dol #hatkuuasks #sigh when i got the virginity ask i was like 'is this targeted advertising...?'#real men just do not do it for me

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soartfullydone · 3 years

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No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed You/Bastion requested by @zacksfairest

Thank you for giving me an excuse to write more Bastion things. I don’t know if this is good, but here I go, fellas!

“After all this time, don’t you trust me, darling?”

Melody should have smiled at Bastion Winalils and answered, “No.” Instead, she’d asked questions, allowing her damned curiosity to take her by the hand and pull her into one of the Jet’s schemes.

This one, she thought, is the one I’ll have to kill him for.

Large, rough hands gripped her arms on both sides. Her bare feet skidded uselessly across the uneven floors as she was half-carried, half-dragged to who-knows-where. A burlap bag covered her head, and they had taken so many turns to get here. At last, she heard a door open. One of the men removed the bag, and the other pushed her forcefully into the room before she could get her bearings. She tripped and fell onto her side.

Melody’s arms and legs weren’t bound, so she scrambled to her feet, wanting to curse at them so filthily their own mothers would shrivel up and die to avoid the words. A pitiful sniffling sound beat her to it. She wasn’t alone in the room.

Other women were crammed into the space with her, each of them youthful, some more than others. Most of them had pure white hair of varying lengths. Plats. Melody spotted a few Silvers and Golds, even a Jet, though the latter’s skin was darker than what was typical of her caste. No Coppers. And, of course, Melody was the only one here who could pass as a Bronze except, unlike the rest of the women here, she was no Ald.

Half the women watched her just as warily as she watched them. The rest were either staring unseeingly at the floor, sobbing into their hands, or trying to not exist.

The oldest profession, Melody grimly reflected. So far, it looks the same here as it does in Sharteshane.

Before any of them could console each other, forge alliances, or put her own survival first, a side door opened, and an olive-skinned man with black hair and blue eyes entered. His clothes were modest, pressed, and shiny in a way only expensive fabrics were. His mouth was shaped in a permanent frown, and he looked both disinterested and unimpressed with the collection of women—some of whom were barely dressed or were completely nude—in the room.

“Quit your sniveling,” he spoke in a reedy tenor. “Save it for the customers. Some of them like to feel useful. Or cruel.” He snapped his fingers. “Aye, we don’t have all day. Line up.”

The women did as they were told. With the room being small for ten women plus the Jet and his two thugs, two lines were formed. Melody’s body was shaking, but she clenched her jaw and fell in line with the others in the back. She would endure inspection with the rest of them.

The Jet wasn’t the one who was actively performing the inspections. Instead, he directed one of his thugs—also Jets—to manhandle the women for him with lazy commands or the careless wave of a paper fan. He’d be considered hopelessly effeminate in Sharteshane and would pay for it in her streets. Here, he was what Melody viewed as the Foreman, the man in charge, the word of god.

He was also the target.

“If the back tooth’s rotted, it hardly matters,” Foreman was saying, not even looking at the Plat woman he was disparaging. “She won’t be doing much smiling, I expect.”

The worst part of the inspection was the purity test. Melody hadn’t anticipated it, and it happened to the first woman before Melody realized what she was watching. Before she could look away. The Plat gasped as the thug reached under her dress, then flinched hard with a broken, pained whimper as he drove his fingers inside her.

Melody didn’t have to see it happen to know that’s what the Plat endured. Every whorehouse conducted their affairs differently, but there were commonalities. A quality of standards one had to follow if one wanted to stay competitive. And here was Alderode, competing with Sharteshane and competing well. Just because the Alds hid all the dirty business in back rooms didn’t make them any less filthy.

The Plat woman “passed.” In Melody’s mind, it meant she’d failed. It meant her virginity would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Numbly, she could hear Foreman making those very arrangements as another thug led the woman from the room.

I did not sign up for this, Bastion!

Tough, she could almost hear him saying. They have to endure it. Why shouldn’t you?

She fought the urge to run as woman after woman was inspected and taken from the room, some for the bidding, others to start whoring immediately. Belatedly, it dawned on her that she would be the last.

Melody preoccupied herself with thinking how she could fight back. The walls of the room had plenty of Solidity, which, if taken, would likely result in the khert backfiring on her and killing her. If she wanted to Core Leech anything, it would be simpler to remove the Density from the Alds’ arm bones or something, but she didn’t want to resort to that. She had some pride as a wright, and besides, she didn’t know if she could manage all three men at once. Maybe… Maybe she could take the Edge aspect from Foreman’s belt knife and… Bah! It’d be easier to steal the damn thing. She’d get more uses out of it, too.

Pymary wasn’t the answer to everything.

The folded tip of Foreman’s fan swatted her under her chin. Her notable blue eyes found his bored ones, though a degree of intrigue slightly warmed them.

“Thought you were bringing me another semon girl,” Foreman remarked to his thugs. “This one’s missing quite a lot of shit on her.”

“We like variety where I’m from,” Melody replied in accented Tainish. “Though we have our share of seamen, to be sure.”

Foreman snatched back the fan, snapping it open with a flick of his wrist. “My, my, a Sharte! You’re an awfully long way from home.” His tone lifted slightly on the end: a question.

“Got a tip,” said a thug. “Found her near one of our storehouses.”

“And you thought to bring her here?” Foreman sighed. He waved his fan across his face so vigorously that Melody could feel the burst of cool air on her face along with the roasted meat he’d eaten for lunch. Abruptly, he stopped, coming to a decision. “Put her with the exotics then. It’s not like she’ll last any longer than the others.”

Before Foreman was even finished speaking, a thug forced open Melody’s mouth with a bruising grip on her jaw. Other hands roamed her body, and her pulse spiked. She felt murderous, and she tried to fight the feeling down, but then one of the men started hiking up her dress—

“Ach, no need for that!” Foreman snapped, turning back halfway from his withdrawal of the room. “The last thing we need is to advertise we’re putting an illegal’s cunny on the market. Besides, you know Sharteshane. Her own father’s likely had her first. Now, let’s go.”

The moment the thugs reluctantly took their hands off her, Melody lunged forward.

“Please!” she cried as she fell against Foreman, her hands lost in the front of his robes until she found his inner lapels to cling to. Almost kneeling, she peered up at him, tears running unhindered down her cheeks. She barely recognized herself as she fell into more desperate supplications. “Please, don’t do this! I’m not supposed to be here. Let me g—”

Foreman backhanded her. The force of the blow ripped her hands free from him, and she dropped to her knees, catching herself on her palms. Quickly, she balled her hands into fists, clenching one around the small cylinder she now held in her right hand.

“Whores!” Foreman declared, slapping his closed fan against his palm. “They’re the same everywhere.” He sneered and for once spoke directly to her. “You won’t say one word to the customers. You’ll be silent and demure, like a proper Aldish woman. If I hear even a hint of speculation from anyone that you’re from Sharteshane, I’ll cut out your tongue and hand you over to the authorities. Understand, lass?”

Melody didn’t respond. She wasn’t expected to. She was only to obey.

Foreman had already moved on. “Get her in someone’s bed now before she bruises. When it shows, we can charge him extra for it.”

Without another word, the thugs grabbed her by the arms and hauled her away.

Maybe it was the same throughout Alderode, or maybe it was this brothel in particular, but there were no pimps forcing their whores to roam the streets, finding customers and servicing them where they could. Instead, they were positioned in various rooms, often grouped by caste or—in Melody’s case—exotics when they possessed traits that were rarer or “off” within their respective caste. There was a Gold who had fair, blond hair but golden eyes rather than the typical green. Another, that earlier Jet she’d spotted with the warm, brown skin. As for Melody, she didn’t have the brown eyes and light-brown skin a Bronze was expected to have. She fit right in.

All the customers, however, were Jet men, and they roamed from room to room, glasses of wine in hand, searching for the choicest ware to take to bed in a room upstairs.

Every time she felt someone’s eyes on her, lingering too long, her skin crawled. She fought to control her breathing as she tried to figure a way out, but she was unarmed, and there were so many people. Even being a wright didn’t give her much of an advantage. Unlike Sharteshane, Alderode was full of them. Being a woman with experience in spellery wouldn’t surprise them for long; in fact, it may inspire many of them to kill her faster, lest any of the other women decide to get ideas.

It was Foreman who wound up approaching her. The cylinder burned in her hand, but he didn’t demand it back. Merely said, “Come with me,” from behind his fan. She couldn’t get a read on him at all.

She followed him upstairs, her stomach dropping as he took her to a room. The door swung open, and she saw that it wasn’t the grandest in the place by any means, but the furnishings looked cleaned and dusted.

However, the bed was disturbed, as it was also occupied. A Plat woman was there, her dress falling off her arms as her mouth was ravished by a Jet man with chin-length black hair. He was bare-chested with his black pants unfastened. Foreman clicked his tongue, and Bastion Winalils opened his dark eyes. They fell on Melody standing in the doorway, and she could swear his smile was aimed at her even though the Plat was keeping his mouth well-occupied.

“This will be going on your tab, I trust you know,” Foreman pronounced and pushed Melody forward. “Here’s the one you requested. The Plat can stay if you prefer.”

“Ah!” Bastion replied once he came up for air. “If I only had the coin. You can go, darling,” he directed to the Plat woman fondly.

“You know where to find me,” she flirted back.

Melody, disgusted, shifted aside when the Plat woman left the room. Bastion half-followed her out, his languid gait taking him as far as the new prostitute he was paying for, Melody herself. Shadows still clung beneath his eyes, which inspected her with polite interest. Her dress was scandalously short—for Alderode, at least—showing off her legs. Even though they were acting like they were strangers, heat entered his eyes, and Melody reminded herself that this, too, was an act for their audience of one. She ignored the urge to pull down the dress’s hem.

“And does she meet with your approval, my lord?” asked Foreman. “You don’t usually favor semon women.”

“You won’t mind, then, if I double-check.”

It was all the warning Melody had. Bastion took her face in both his hands and brought her mouth to his.

She went completely rigid, the edges of the cylinder biting into her right hand as she clenched both fists. But their audience was still here. Bastion’s lips moved against hers, and she opened her mouth, starting to kiss him back. That simple movement seemed to change everything. Bastion moaned, and his kiss turned rough, consuming. Dimly, Melody heard Foreman mutter something and close the door, leaving them alone, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Bastion’s tongue stroked hers, and she was caught up in the taste of him. The sweet smoke from his pipe. The bitter drink he consumed. The notes were there but faint, saturated by something sharp like mint.

Or maybe like blood. In a rush, Melody came back to herself and bit him.

“Ach!” Bastion drew back, a hand covering his mouth. “How easily I forget. My favorite Sharte is an Epheby, waiting to strike.”

“You’re a bastard!” This time, she did strike. Her knuckles clocked him under his chin, him moving to avoid taking a full punch to the face like she planned. He seized her wrist in a vise-like grip and brought two fingers to the side of her neck. It was enough to make her stop in her tracks.

“Calm down,” Bastion warned. The faint red light of spellery glowing from his fingers reached his eyes, granting them a deadly coldness. “Or I’ll sever your artery and leave here without you.”

“If you were going to do that, doctor, you would have done it. Don’t act like you’re here just for me.”

“That’s exactly why I bothered coming to this shithole, you ungrateful wretch.”

Melody huffed a breath of disbelief and tore herself away from him. Suddenly fatigued, she scrubbed her face and shoved past him toward the bed.

“I warned you this would be dangerous. You were all assurances, as I recall.” He was quiet while Melody stripped the bed of its sheets. “What hap—”

“Like you care. Here.” She threw the cylinder at him, which he managed to snatch out of the air. “This is what you really wanted, right? So take it, and leave me alone.”

Melody occupied herself with her newest project while Bastion examined the cylinder. Alderode was freezing outside. She would need coverings when she escaped. She began measuring the sheets with her hands, tearing them as she went.

Bastion came near her, sitting on the bed to watch her work. “I’ll owe you a hell of a favor for this. I’ve been after his seal for years.”

It was like a peace offering or the closest she might ever hear to an apology coming from him. Melody almost asked why he wanted some brothel-keeper’s seal, but she was done with being curious today. “You could have gotten it yourself. It wasn’t hard. It didn’t demand”—she gestured down at herself—”this.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried, but that man won’t let anyone get too close to him. He possesses a touch aversion, you see.”

“I noticed.” Her face still stung from where Foreman had hit her. She felt Bastion’s gaze find that very spot before sliding away. Melody tore at the sheet just to destroy something.

The silence between them grew awkward. After all, they were in a room inside a whorehouse, the sounds of fucking drifting to them through the walls. It would’ve been funny if Melody didn’t feel so fragile. If she couldn’t still feel and taste Bastion whenever she licked her lips, finding she wasn’t as turned off from it as she thought she would be. Not even after he threatened her.

“Won’t it be suspicious, you being here when he finds it missing?” she started, mentally kicking herself for being the first to speak, but her thoughts were becoming too dangerous with which to keep company.

“Not to worry.” He tossed the seal up in the air and caught it. “Shithole comment aside, this is only my fourth favorite brothel.”

She didn’t laugh. “Right, and you usually just bring your favorites home with you.” Melody glared side-long at him. “I should’ve timed it better. Made you squirm by having to explain to all the vibrant prostitutes that you can’t get it up without a six-titted bird’s permission.”

“Aye, well, you almost had your wish.” Bastion shot a vexed scowl southward. “The Lady is being particularly stingy tonight.”

“Why did you even come, then?”

“Like I said, I could hardly leave it all up to you, darling. I’m painfully aware you have no idea how to whore.”

It always came back to this with the two of them. No matter how much Melody got on Bastion’s nerves or how much he made her want to wring his neck, they always ended back at somewhere level. Easily teasing or mouthing off at the other. Tonight, it was particularly unsettling, and she didn’t know where to place the blame.

Off balance, Melody blurted out, “So are those real pants or a glamour?”

He smiled a beguiling smile. “Would you like to find out?”

“Why bother,” she taunted, “if you can’t do anything about it?”

“Aye, but that’s the perplexing thing.” Bastion stood and leaned over her with predatory keenness. “I felt something when I kissed you. A stirring. It’s happened before, when I’ve looked at you,” he admitted easily, as if it meant and cost him nothing. “But tittybird seems to have no objections if it’s you stoking my desire tonight, and you liked it, didn’t you, my lips on yours.” He placed the tip of his finger on the sheet stretched between her hands. “Don’t I tempt you, even a little? Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be wanted?”

“I want…” began Melody, her gaze caught on his smiling mouth so close to hers.

When she processed his final words, it felt like being buried under six feet of Aldish snow. Tonight, she had felt what it was like for men to want her. For them to put her hands on her without her being able to do anything about it. For them to assess her like she was no better than a Plod used for cheap labor or a saddlehound to keep as a favored pet. She’d had enough.

Firmly, she said, “I want to leave. I want to—” She almost said, go home, but Sharteshane was miles and miles away, and the thought of it didn’t stir up much warmth. In truth, she didn’t have a home.

The smile slid from Bastion’s face. He withdrew, giving her blessed space. Shadows wreathed around him until, suddenly, he appeared to be wearing a red, fur-lined winter cloak.

“Let’s go then,” he said briskly. “We’ll walk a few streets, you playing the part of a proper escort. After that, you’re on your own getting back to the safehouse. I have somewhere to be.”

She expected as much, so why was part of her so disappointed? “Right,” she agreed, lifting the torn sheet so she could wrap it around her. Bastion stopped her with a hand over hers.

“I’ve a better idea,” he offered. “Let’s steal you a cloak and some boots on the way out.”

“And some pants?” she said hopefully.

“Madam Sharte,” Bastion replied, waving a hand to the brothel at large. “Take your pick.”

#whumptober2021 #unsounded #bastion winalils #otp: a little death #sorry i'm not sorry for self-shipping nonsense #tonight i decided i was done with worrying about doing pymary correctly; it's whatever i want it to be now FOR FUN #that opinion will likely change come morning but oh well~ we're having fun #not much is even here anyway lol #[jerry seinfeld voice] is this anything?

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angstalottle · 4 years

Text

Protection Squad

@causeimanartist sorry this took so long I have like 5 WIP’s rn

Spending your days as a billionaire that takes canon fodder away from villains by offering potential henchmen jobs has made Bruce a target on more then one occasion.

It was fine, he could handle himself just fine, like the time some poor assassin had grabbed him from behind only to wake up a week later in hospital with no memory of the entire thing.

The problem was when somone publically declares they had their sights on him.

Funny how willing the entire police force is to work over time when it’s the local rich guy that funds half the city’s infrastructure is threatened.

Usually Bruce spends a few weeks in a dingy Gothem PD safe house having to make small talk with skittish officers and wait till somone eles saves the day.

It was torture.

So of course when mad hatter appeared on TV and said he planned to kill Bruce at midnight he was not going to spend his entire day with people he can’t stand playing nice.

“Get to Gothem I need some body guards for show”

That was all he needed to say for Clark and Diana to fly down mid press conference just in time for Bruce to assure everyone he would be fine.

The plan was to deal with Mad Hatter soon as the three of them were out of sight, unfortunately the hotel they chose was currently surrounded by the press and even Bruce couldn’t find a way out.

“On the bright side you get to hang out with us” Clark smiles as he closed the blinds on a particularly determined photographer.

“While I’m always happy to catch up this isn’t exactly what I had in mind” Bruce sighed drumming his fingers on the desk he had claimed as his work station.

He had spent the last two hours combing through possible leads and so far had come up with nothing.

“Well we could always make out a little” Diana suggested with a shrug. She was just as bored as Bruce.

Unlike Clark who could spend days in one place not really doing anything the other two were already going stir crazy.

Bruce looked tempted for a moment, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks before he cleared his throat and made a big show of turning back to his work.

“I just need to figure out Hatters game. And why me.”

“Erm your a billionaire and public face of Gotham.” Clark supplied.

“Yeah but going after public figures isn’t Hatters style, he settles personal grudges and I havnt done anything to piss him off.”

Clark and Diana exchanged a look which made Bruce bristle “not as Batman.”

“Maybe it’s about Wayne tech then? Has your company done anything that could set him off?” Clark asked literally hovering over Bruce’s shoulder to look at the screen.

Clark may have been a super powered alien and one hell of a reporter but he had no fucking clue what Bruce was looking at.

It just seemed like a huge list of sprawling random numbers and letters.

“That’s what I thought, I started by combing through the personal expense accounts of board memebers where they ussually hide fishy percheses but other then the usual prostitues nothing illegal”

“Your ok with members of the board getting prostitues?” Clark asked raising an eyebrow.

“As long as their respectful to them yeah I don’t give a fuck. Besides I’ve hired a good chunk of them, Katie down in public relations can speak seven languages and now gets health care.” Bruce shrugged missing the jealous expressions that crossed the others faces.

They knew Bruce wasn’t exactly the play boy he pretended to be.

Hell as far as they knew the only reason he wasn’t a virgin was cause Talia and Catwoman got there first.

It didn’t change the fact that whenever they heard stories about him with hordes of women a red hot jealousy burned in their guts making them want to slam him against the wall and remind him who really loves him.

The pair were pulled out of said thoughts by Bruce letting out a honestly pretty cute “ah ha”.

“What is it?” Diana asked joining Clark in the hovering.

“It wasn’t under the table that’s why it took me so long to find it. Honesty is hard to find these days.” He chuckled as he pointed at a news article from a couple of weeks ago.

A local theatre had burnt down and the Thomas and Martha Wayne foundation pledged to rebuild it.

That was easy to ignore as just another charitable even the company did.

The problem was that it pulled all the publicity was another local theatre that was doing a production of Alice in Wonderland.

Looking through the advertisement Bruce could see that it was clearly a trap made by Hatter that failed because no one bothered to go.

“He blames me for his last plan failing. I bet the Batmobil he’s in the theatre.”

“Ok I’ll tell the commissioner Batman told us where to find him and go pick him up.”

Clark headed for the door only to be met with a crowd of flashing lights.

It was so bright everyone in the room overed their eyes.

There were sounds of a scuffle but Clark and Diana couldn’t see anything.

“Please turn off the flash” Clark said as the lights continued with no click...

No click of the cameras mechanism...

Clark was around cameras all day he knew what they were supposed to sound like and this wasn’t it.

He took in a deep breath and blew into the crowd sending them scattering to the other side of the hallway.

The strange thing was that even with the cameras knocked out of their hands they continued to press an imaginary button.

Cold dread settled into Clark’s stomach when he realised they were all under mind control.

He quickly turned round to see Diana rubbing her eyes and Bruce lying of the floor.

“Bruce!” Clark yelled as he sped over hands hovering in terror.

Diana gently pushed him to the side as she rolled Bruce over.

There was a gash on his forehead sluggishly leaking blood but his eyes were quickly flickering open.

He looked up at Clark and Diana’s worried faces and gave him a crooked smile.

The kind that only they were allowed to see and no one else.

“Don’t be mad but I figured this would happen.”

“Did you use yourself as bait?!” Diana let go of him and let him flop harmlessly back to the floor.

Bruce let out a soft groan as he gestured to the unconscious Mad Hatter on the other side of the bed.

“I figured if we didn’t find out where he was he would come himself. Especially with the entire of Gotham talking about where I was hiding out.” Bruce pulled himself to his feet and pulled a pair of hand cuffs out of god knows where and secured Hatter.

“Ok but how did you take him out when we couldn’t even see.” Clark asked already picking up the phone to call the police for a pick up.

Bruce just smirked at them knowingly “because I’m Batman.”

The next hour was spent with the police dealing with Hatter and his victims.

After the camera incident they decided having any media around was a security risk and had them clear out.

Bruce had managed to avoid going to the hospital mainly thanks to having fucking Superman flutter around his injury like a mother hen.

The officers found it kinda funny how nervous the superhero’s were around their little billionaire.

Almost made them feel proud.

The trio were eventually dismissed and assumed to have gone their separate ways.

Which was the plan until Bruce grabbed the two super strong hero’s and pulled them into a empty utility closet like they were kittens.

The following make out session more then made up for the stress of the day.

Right up until one officer wearing a body cam opened the door to see the three wrapped up together.

It bought Gotham PD a few new squad cars and a coffee maker to keep that footage from being leaked.

Alfred did however still manage to get a copy and laughs about it whenever he can.

One good thing did come out of the situation though.

Whenever Bruce Wayne was publicly threatened the police saw no reason to step in.

After all when your banging Earth most powerful superhero’s who needs protection duty.

They did feel bad for Batman though...

Poor guy must feel like such a third wheel.

#angst #superwonderbat #batman #wonderwoman #superman #fanfiction

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