Junk Talks - Tumblr Posts

had an exhausting day at work and click on this lil blue app to see 20+ notifications about yall liking my writing. oh I needed this🥹 I love yall💙💜

inbox open to anyone that wanna talk

Friend. I wanna write the way you do. I wanna write like you. If I wanted to write an obsessive Bruce Wayne, how would I do that?

why’d I cover my face for ten minutes after reading this, no one has ever said that about my writing before😭😭

When I write, I try to do it in the same way I think a character would talk a therapist/friend. so sometimes I have characters ramble on and on, or over-explain their reasoning. Depending on who I’m writing for, the best way for me to get into their mindset is watching/ consuming media of that character.

For Bruce, he’s a very logical person that also relies on some gut feelings that he’ll later back up with research. He obsesses over cases he needs to solve, looking at it from every angle trying to figure it out. His instant infatuation with Dove would be a gut feeling. Him being a total creep on Dove to have her be closer to him would be him trying to figure out this gut feeling. When he does detective work, I don’t think there are many lines he wouldn’t cross to solve a case. I think he’d act the same way for love.

It also helps to consider how others see a character. Bruce is the sole heir of wealthy well known family that helped Gotham be sucha large city. He uses that wealth and legacy for his own personal gain to fight bad guys instead of going to therapy. There are few people that could question him, even less people that would attempt to stop him. He only knows about the poor and underprivileged from his time as Batman when he would patrol the city, and he’s pretty friendly with the cops even though he breaks the law by being a vigilante.

Idk if I helped answer that question, I tried to sound smart or wise but honestly if I watch enough batman/dc cartoons, I get inspired and go on a writing binge.

new levi smut hitting the streets, the joy of deciding to quit my job has given me energy to write.

fair warning its giving cheap porno plot

imma say it one time, bruce wayne is sick

the spirit of gaslighting bruce wayne is heavy in the atmosphere tonight

the way I lie

new levi smut hitting the streets, the joy of deciding to quit my job has given me energy to write.

fair warning its giving cheap porno plot

tagging is always hell I swear

time to post and run? yeah, that's what I'll do. see yall tomorrow

can’t sleep til i share this

rm bias’s favorite renaissance track: church girl & cozy

jin bias’s favorite renaissance track: pure/honey & Im that girl

yoongi bias’s favorite renaissance track: heated & plastic off the sofa

jhope bias’s favorite renaissance track: alien superstar & all up in your mind

jimin bias’s favorite renaissance track: america has a problem & summer renaissance

v bias’s favorite renaissance track: cuff it & move

jungkook bias’s favorite renaissance track: virgo’s groove & thique

I think about this fic often

Boss.

Inspired by: Just a neighbor by @ clumsy-jiminie.

Notes: There will be a prelude, ya'll know I like to work backwards. I haven't been inspired to write for so long, I'm so excited rn.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Tiny (black fem OC); Rod Reiss x Tiny

Rating: R | Minors DNI

Warnings: infidelity, oral (f receiving), voyeurism, dirty talk, cuckolding(?) cigarettes

The sound of mattress springs creaking and a woman’s moans reaching a crescendo is what greeted Rod Reiss home after a long day at the office. The kitchen light Tiny usually left above the dining table to spotlight his cold dinner was out, blanketing the room in darkness and the ominous smell of cooked pork. Placing his briefcase down in the foyer, Rod rubbed his crinkled hands along the side of his weary face.

Above him, the creaking of the mattress lost its rhythm as a man grunted his wife’s name over and over.

It’s been a long day.

Rod took his time, palming the wall for the light switch and removing the foil cover of his late dinner. The sound of cutlery connecting with the expensive white china Tiny insisted he buy in the first year of their union was the only noise breaking up the long stretches of silence. After ten minutes of filling his gut, the undeniable smell of tobacco wafted through the long halls of the house, intruding into every room and sinking into every crevice.

Tiny must be knocked out by now.

Heavy boots made no attempt to conceal the even-paced steps traveling down the spiral staircase, the scent of cheaply harvested tobacco drawing closer.

The muscles in his neck spasmed as Rod tried to suppress the instinct to cower. The presence of his wife’s lover will forever make his stomach turn.

“I thought I heard the door earlier.” If Levi picked up on the unease his presence brought in, he didn’t let it show. Rod watched the younger man with envy as he strutted around the kitchen, in the house his hard-earned money paid for, fiddling around the stocked jars and baskets for a post-coitus snack, cigarette hanging loosely between two fingers.

“Such a shame you weren’t here when she cooked it. Pork is always best served hot.”

The knife in his Rod’s hand nearly snapped from the tight hold it was under. For a second, Rod wondered what the utensil would look like submerged in the meat of Levi’s neck. Would the silver of the metal look as good as he imagined if it was stained red with blood instead of the clear juices from the cut of meat?

“I don’t think Tiny will have the energy to walk to your marriage bed tonight, I really wore her out. Which is good for you, she’s always in a better mode after a good fuck.” This time, Levi spared his employer a coy smile, one cheek puffed out to make room for the buttered roll he decided on.

The knife clanged against the porcelain, the plate could break for all Rod cared. His stomach recoiled and revolted, unable to take any more of this farce of a civil conversation. He knew the young man only did this to get under his skin, skin that should be thick after the past year. It didn’t matter.

His pride couldn’t take it. It couldn’t bear the sight of the lowlife miscreant in his house, eating his food, fucking his wife, and gloating in front of his face with the smell of dried sweat and arousal clinging to his lean frame.

As if sensing the older man’s increasing ire, Levi stuffed the remains of his snack in his mouth.

“Goodnight, boss.” His steps slapped against the marble floor, up the stairs until he reached the room where Tiny slept, blissfully unaware of the maelstrom she was at the center of.

Rod left the dirty plate in the sink and took his time going up the stairs, following the steps of his junior, pausing briefly before the doorframe of Tiny’s personal room. The entrance was wide open, allowing Rod’s tired blue eyes to take in the sight.

The ebony stands of Levi’s hair were clutched tightly between Tiny’s fingers as his head nuzzled into the crevice between her plush thighs. There was no blanket to cover the supple flesh of Tiny’s breasts jutting into the air as her back arched off the silk-covered furniture.

The whines that dripped off her tongue called to him like a siren, his feet sinking into the floor until moving from the spot became impossible.

“Levi, Levi, Levi…” The name of another man filled his ears like wax. Her hips bucked as Levi dove deeper into her cunt, its wetness mixing with the saliva of his mouth to create a symphony of vulgarity.

“Ah, there baby. Mm…”

Levi’s hand moved in tandem with his mouth to work Tiny into a frenzy, plugging her hole with three long fingers with his tongue focusing on her swollen clit, showering it with all the attention it needed.

The room in his slacks decreased the longer Rod watched the two in the act. He had half a mind to sit down on the nearby chair inside the room. As he weighed the pros and cons of his options, Levi scattered kisses on his wife’s glistening brown skin, trailing from her core to her hipbone, up her soft stomach until his lips formed a suction around a pert nipple.

“Yes, Levi, yes!”

Finally, their lips smacked together as he drank in her wanton cries, all the while his fingers continued to plunge into her pussy. Tiny’s hands marked her lover’s shoulders and back, turning the alabaster skin red in the wake of her nails. One of her hands disappeared into the mess between them, wrapping around Levi’s cock by the way his body jolted.

“Fuck baby, You wanna get fucked? Need me to fill you up again? My fingers not good enough for your greedy pussy?” Tiny whimpered as he increased the speed of his thrusts. “You know your husband is home now?”

“Aah,”

“Oh, but you don’t care do you? Still want me? I’ll teach him to not leave his little needy wife at home with the help.” Though strained with lust, Levi’s voice came out loud and clear as if he knew Rod had stopped at the door and was unable to look away. “Make a mess for me and I’ll fuck you ‘til you break.”

The gush of wetness leaving her hole was audible even with the increased volume of her cries. Levi’s mouth trailed her collarbone, his low tone talking her through the intense orgasm lighting up her nerves.

“Keep your eyes open, princess. M’not done with you.” Her head shifted as the waves of pleasure slowed down. Rod gulped, his focus captured by the sight of his wife lifeless on the bed. Her legs spread further on the mattress as Levi situated himself between them. “Hold your legs up, Tiny.”

Wordlessly, she followed his command, her palms cupping the back of her knees, securing her legs to her chest and out of the way for Levi.

“You listen so well to me,” He mumbled, providing imagery for Rod who could not see from outside the room. The smack of Levi’s flesh against her wet folds sent shivers down the older man’s spine, envy filling his bones as his employee prepared to take his wife for himself once more. “Bet you wouldn’t feel this good for your husband.”

“Levi, more!” At her plea, Levi moved like the tide, pushing and pulling himself through her depths, dragging out noises that were sure to follow Rod into his dreams that night. The muscles in his thighs and ass flexed as Levi worked, groans building in his throat and falling out haphazardly.

Their lips met again, strips of flesh melding together as he riled Tiny up with his touch. Their kiss broke and she took the opportunity to breathe in new air to her overworked lungs. The erection straining under his Rod’s layers of clothes became more painful the longer he watched the pair succumb to ecstasy. He grunted along with them, knees neat buckling as Tiny called out Levi’s name.

“Louder, let that pathetic fuck know who’s making his wife scream like this.” The slap of flesh became harsher, louder, less controlled as the cliff drew closer. Tiny’s husband watched on, too entranced to notice the quick glances thrown his way as he crossed the threshold.

By the time Levi tired, Rod had a growing stain on the front of his pants. The oppressive atmosphere lightened as Tiny returned to slumber, womb filled and head empty all thanks to Levi.

Said man had returned to the discarded cigarette he left in the ashtray, blowing smoke into the humid air. Ash stained the white silk sheets but he paid no mind to that.

“You had fun watching, boss?” Levi addressed around the stick hanging off his lip. He didn’t turn to look the man in the eye, already knowing a frowning face would be the response. When he didn’t hear the soles of Rod’s feet slap against the floor, Levi took another drag and held it.

Blue eyes met in the darkness, one clouded by the release of tobacco smoke. “Get some sleep, Boss. you got a long day tomorrow. I’ll take care of her while you’re gone.”

You know what,

we flock together might be a wrap this season. I wanna take time to prepare act 2. So for the remainder of the year, I’ll focus on other wips and sprinkle in some snapshot extra bits of dove and bruce’s friendship prior kidnapping.

yea. that’s what I’ll do.

no cause.. how do I progress in life after this??? this was peak living,, guess i’ll die now or something

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐑. 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐟𝐭. 𝐯. 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

minors do not interact.┊2.9k words

“you know i hate messes, including the filthy little whores that make them”

content warning: dom!mr. clean x fem!reader, pet names (messy girl, good girl, pretty girl, doll, baby), masturbation (reader receiving), breath play, squirting, voyeur!mr. clean, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink, fellatio, unprotected sex, cream pie (no breeding kink), couch sex, full nelson, pussy spanking, pain play, cum eating, fingering, no beta we die like men

⊹˚. ♡ i have no regrets

that mr. clean commercial really did something to you.

you felt a little ashamed, really— finding the older man attractive, but the way he worked that mop just did it for you every time. he handled it with such care like caressing a lover's body. his strong, calloused hands gripped the pole firmly as he pushed it across the floors. his built stature withstood the test of time, each muscle bulging and flexing with every movement of the mop.

you couldn’t get over the way his neatly pressed clothing clung to his body leaving very little to the imagination. the white fabric pulled taut over his broad chest blanketing endless planes of bronzed skin. his pebbled nipples poked through tempting you, daring you to take them between your teeth. you imagined what kind of moans he’d make. or maybe he was a grunter…

that tight ass that filled out his trousers so seamlessly could be registered as a lethal weapon if you dared to bounce a quarter off it. the way he rolled his wide hips as he worked his way across the hard wood and that million dollar smile he flashed knowingly into the camera. he knew what he was doing. he was teasing you.

and it was working.

sitting on the couch, you threw your phone aside to dip your hand into your panties, running your fingers through your honeyed lips. your heartbeat stuttered a nervous rhythm as the obscene sounds of your wet pussy filled the room. your cheeks grew hot at the depravity of it all. this was so embarrassing. having the hots for the sexy janitor? but no one had to know. this would be your little secret between you and the man behind the screen.

you slowly dipped your finger in your wet cunt giving it a few experimental thrusts before joining in another. soft moans floated from your lips as you stretched yourself out slowly. you imagined how mr. clean’s thick fingers would fill you up, how they’d run through your folds teasingly just how he did the mop, gripping your plush thighs like a sponge.

you reasoned that his fingers would be munch bigger than yours and decided to slip in a third finger. the stretch had your cunt clenching hard around your digits. your back arched off the couch as you snapped your head back, mouth gaping into a pornographic “o” as you cried out in pleasure.

you gripped the throw pillows that decorated the furniture like a lifeline, the only thing that grounded you into reality as your head floated into the heavens.

feeling the familiar knot in your belly begin to pull taught, you increased your speed fucking yourself with such brisk and hard thrusts that had your toes curly in ecstasy. the even pace was impossible to keep; your movements quickly grew uncoordinated and messy. your arms burned with fatigue while your mind grew foggy from lust. needy mewls escaped your throat and your eyebrows crinkled in frustration, so desperate to reach your end that was so dangerously close.

you slid your hand over your chest covered by the oversized white t shirt you liked to pretend was his, tweaking one of your nipples to further yourself along before trailing up further to wrap your hands around your throat and squeezing gently imagining they were his.

the haze of euphoria and oxygen deprivation was dizzying, heightening the mind numbing sensation of each drag of your fingers against your sensitive walls. you choked out a few moans feeling your pussy spasm as the knot in your stomach pulled taught with agonizing tension before it snapped. you seized up, mouth open in a silent scream before crashing back down into the couch breath ragged and unsteady as you came down from the best high you’ve had in awhile.

and from lusting after mr. clean at that.

you removed your hand from your aching cunt with a small moan, eyes still shut tightly as you waited for you soul to return to your body. you wiped your messy and pruney fingers on your shirt already beginning to feel shame creep up on you.

eyes fluttering open, you almost shit yourself as you screamed seeing the bald man in front of you, cleaning up with puddle that stained your floors with his magic eraser.

your heartbeat was beating so loudly in your ears it was deafening. you didn’t even realize you squirted and who the fuck was this man in your house??

when he looked up at you, face handsome and aged like that finest of wines, bushy white brows quirked as he flashed that same knowing grin, you instantly recognized him. you felt need begin to bleed into you once more.

“such a messy girl,” he tutted as he stood from his kneeling position on the floor, earning him some crackles through his knees.

“mr. clean….” you gasped, in complete disbelief that he was actually here. “how…? “ you began, eyes seeming to travel endless as you lifted your gaze to meet his towering stature.

“magic,” he spoke in a dazzling whisper. a low chuckle shook his chest as he dangled the magic sponge in his hand.

“b-but—“

“you know, a pretty girl like you should really clean up after yourself. a spill like that would surely leave stains if left to seep into the grain of the wood. you should know better,” he spoke, a slight condescending lilt in his deep voice as he wiped his hands off on a clean white towel from his back pocket.

the slight hint of disappointment in his voice, made your heart sink a little in your chest. the man of your dreams was standing right here in your living room and he was displeased with you.

“im sorry mr. clean, i didn’t know. i was—” you began to apologize before the words stuck to your throat like peanut butter feeling the rough pad of his hand caress your cheek. you leaned into his touch with a gentle purr, melting into the embrace.

“you know i hate messes,” he cooed, words flowing so gently and sweetly from his lips, complimenting the subtle crease in his eyes as he smiled down at you, “including the filthy little whores that make them.”

it took you a moment to register his words having been lost in his affection. upon your realization, your doe eyes widened slowly to a frightful width as you lifted your head from his palm.

“mr. clean…” you spoke his name with disbelief on your tongue, yet still so soft and so innocent. the older man revealed in your cute reaction, his kind smile never faultering as he grazed your adorable frightened face with his knuckles. your obedience stirred something in him, so pliable and so reactive to his touch.

“we’re gonna practice cleaning up together, is that alright with you, doll?” he asked kindly, but something in his tone denoted that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. you nodded eagerly, your empty cunt fluttering around nothing at the sensual tone of his words. “but first, we need to make a mess,” he added, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. “may i borrow that pretty little mouth of yours?”

you nodded, taking the thick digit into your mouth nervously, swirling your tongue around it. mr. clean dipped his finger deeper into your mouth guiding you to take more of him.

“you’re a good little slut, aren’t you?” he hummed in approval.

his convoluted praise made your heart flutter in your chest. you’d do anything for any ounce of recognition from that man, so eager to please him.

he removed his thumb from your mouth with a satisfied smirk. “i think you know what happens next…”

and you did. you did know what happened next. your mouth watered for it, already anticipating the weight of his cock on your tongue, eager to see if it looked and tasted as good as you imagined.

the couch ruffled as you shifted onto your knees, now eye level with mr. clean’s pelvis. he watched as you pawed at the growing bulge in his white trousers, eliciting a low growl from him. you quickly worked to unbutton his them, pulling his half hard cock from his briefs.

your senses were immediately hit with the clean scent of lemon breeze that wafted from his groin. you marveled at the way his cock grew in your palm as you stroked him to his full length. it was everything you imagined it to be and more. his neatly trimmed pubes decorated his pelvis like the first dusting of snow on a winter afternoon, standing out vividly against the tan skin below his waist only a half shade lighter than that of the rest of his body. he was hot and heavy in your hand with pretty veins trailing on the underside of his cock. his head was thick and rosy with arousal, glistening with the precum that you spread over his slit with your thumb.

mr. clean’s breath began to deepen and you worked him up, an occasional groan vibrating his chest. you placed a gentle kiss on the sweet spot below his head causing him to twitch in your grasp. a proud smile curled your lips. when you drew a long strip up the underside of his shaft before followed by a few kitten licks on his sensitive head, his hand found your hair, stroking it slightly while subtly urging you to take more of him into your mouth.

you obliged, wrapping your plush lips around the head of his cock, suckling gently on it. the older man groaned above you, digging his nails into your scalp.

“don’t tease” was his short command, his voice gruff and noticeable tense as he sank your head further down his length, puffing air through his nose.

you took him all, the head of his cock kissing your soft palate. releasing him with a gag, you swallowed his length again, bobbing your head around him at a quick pace, hands gripped firmly on his waist.

mr. clean grunted above you, hips rutting into the wet heat of your mouth with low growls in perfect time with your own movements. it was then that the constraints of his cotton tee became stifling. he pulled it over his head and off his body to reveal his golden chest that laid hidden beneath like the finest of treasure. and you just won the jackpot.

you stared up at the man lecherously, gaze low and slutty as you drank in the sight of him before you. your eyes followed the snow white happy trail that snaked up his toned abs cushioned by a thin layer of plush before it spread out over his big burly chest. mr. clean was the perfect picture of human anatomy, truly carved by the steady hands of the god’s.

a smug grin tugged at the lewd sight below him: your lusty expression, damped lashes, and surprisingly clean chin. you were learning…

“that’s enough,” he spoke firmly, pulling you off him, you pouted in protest, already beginning to feel drunk off his cock. or maybe it was the fumes?

you let out a yelp as mr.clean lifted you off the couch with one swift movement like you weighed next to nothing. a mere rag doll for him to throw around and fuck as he pleased. he took his seat on the couch, sitting you down on his lap with your back pressed to his chest.

“so here’s what's gonna happen next,” he growled into your ear. his voice was so low and gruff that it sent goosebumps washing over your skin. “i’m gonna fuck you, okay? and you’re gonna take what i give you. and when i’m done, you’re gonna clean up whatever filthy mess that whore cunt of yours makes, do you understand?”

“yes, mr. clean,” you breathed out. your body grew hot at his words. everything about him was so sexy. he was pulling at every single one of your strings, already knowing exactly how to make you sing for him. your clit throbbed at a steady rhythm while your dripping cunt squelched as you clamped your thighs together, creating such a sinful melody.

it was music to the older man’s ears. he hummed in delight, eyes closed fondly hearing you moan against his ear, head falling back onto his shoulder as he sunk into your sopping cunt.

“shit. slutty fucking pussy sucking me in…” he muttered to himself, his words trailing off as he began to get lost in your warmth.

he took your waist in his big hands, raising you slightly off his chest. you positioned your trembling legs on the edge of the couch to support yourself.

you barely got yourself situated before he began pounding into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each hard thrust.

you arched your arch back further away from him feeling white hot pleasure zip through your veins and he stretched you out with each thrust, the thick ridges on his cock rubbing and dragging against all the right places that had you seeing stars that twinkled that freshly cleaned glass.

he expertly manhandled your body. so wise and experienced in his old age. you wondered how many women he’s fucked like this — seducing them with his sultry moves, alluring them with his hot bod and his helpful hands. the same hands that held a bruising grip on your waist as he drilled himself into you while grunting through clenched teeth.

your breast sloshed around like water in the air as shameless cries ripped from your throat. mr. clean couldn’t even make them out if he tried, the sounds going out in hiccuped moans and broken syllables. he felt his cock twitch at the sound of you being so drunk off him. he wished he could see that cute little face of yours lost in the pleasure only he could give you.

he knew he wouldn’t last much longer like this. not with you clenching around him like that. he needed to wrap this up but not before making sure you finished first.

he released his grip on your hip to reach around and smack your puffy clit repeatedly almost causing your legs to give out from under you at the delicious mix of pleasure and pain it created.

“look at this greedy little cunt trying to milk me dry,” he goaded. you could hear the satisfied smile on his lips from behind you. “want me to fill you up, is that right?”

you could only moan at his lewd words, their implication only spurring you on. your cunt fluttered around him in anticipation.

the action was not missed by him, hissing in pleasure as you clenched around him. “ i bet you’d —hah— i bet you’d like that, whore, hm?” he huffed out, his breath ragged as he approached his end.

when all you responded with were helpless whimpers he pinched your clit, returning your focus back onto him.

“y-yes!! yes!! g’nna cum!” you squealed, feeling warmth begin to spread through your body like wildfire so close to engulfing you in pleasure.

“that’s it, baby. be a good girl and come all over my cock,” he spoke, as he left wet open mouth kisses all over your neck and ears.

that was the last push needed to end you over the edge, your eyes rolling back into your head as your body tensed, imploding in all consuming flames as you came hard around his cock, leaving thick white cream at the base.

mr. clean followed after you, mercilessly fucking into you with messy strokes, pumping hot ropes of cum into you with a steady pulse.

he pulled out, watching from below as his cum dropped from your spent pussy and onto his stomach in thick white globs.

he dumped your limp body on the couch next to him, eyeing you in mild annoyance while you laid there to catch your breath.

“go on. get to work,” he commanded. “or have you learned nothing?”

mind still fuzzy, you sat and positioned yourself to kneel at his side before bending over to clean up your mess like you promised you would.

he watched lecherously as you lapped up your combined cum off his abs making sure not to waste a single drop. he felt his dick twitch to life again when you looked up from his lap with such a fucked out expression on your face, showing off the white cream on your tongue before swallowinng it down. he could barely hide the look of amazement on his face.

maybe there was a better clean than mr. clean.

“now, that wasn’t so hard, was it, dear?” he asked, his gentle smile returning to his face.

you felt pride swell in his chest when he looked at you, gently petting your hair with his palms, so happy to have pleased him.

“for more cleaning tips visit mycleanbook.ca” he whispered into your ear, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead before disappearing into thin air, leaving a cloud of sparkles and that clean lemon scent that you’d cherish for days to come.

“mr. clean, mr. clean, mr. clean…” you sang gently to yourself, settling further into the cushions, satisfied with a job well done.

#: @satorhime @thicksimpx @gabzlovesu @rowan-rites @hajitonin @thegrandlinesimp @imperatorkhaleesi @lvlyone

getting close to a follower milestone…how should we celebrate??

saw kehlani tonight, witnessed like 10 people pass out, left without a wife

fuck yo zodiac sign. describe your personality using three haikyuu characters. I’ll go first:

I think i’ll do those bts x renaissance oneshots I posted about a while back

getting close to a follower milestone…how should we celebrate??

Part two of Eyes on Me finna hit the streets.

You could take a million years and I would love your analysis the same. Always put yourself first.

That being said, it was torture waiting for your thoughts but I am nothing if not a patient woman, and you’re worth waiting for.

Let me just say, it is so fun having a dumb oc. dove isn’t stupid, she aware of how it looks to others and what people might think. Sadly she just doesn’t have enough options to be picky

Thee richest bachelor in the world finds her interesting enough to care about her well-being and offer her help in her time of need??? Suspicious… but what else is she to do🫤

I love your commentary, I read them to get inspired. You make me want to make her dumber. And change my plot until it blows your mind…

Which will definitely happen in the next season😈

"I Know What They're Thinking."

I'm not sure if I want to call this part 7 or part 6.5, regardless I'm posting it. I feel like I say this every time, but it picks up after this. Inspiration comes and goes these days, so yall just gon have to bear with me.

Series Masterlist

Bruce Wayne x Dove (black OC)

Rating: PG-13; warnings: obsessive Bruce Wayne, sneaky Bruce Wayne, chipped nails, women's clothing sizing mention, cursing, barely edited.

Taglist[OPEN]: @prettyvintageafternoon @zennydaye @lalaooopsie @leahnicole1219 @ctrllovre

Her nails had been chipping since that night she got arrested. Dove couldn’t tell you when it first started. Maybe that night in the cold rain, pressed between the unregulated vigilante and the rough asphalt of the city. Maybe during the unconscious hours that followed that, when her body was moved to the soulless gray precinct. Maybe when damaged palms repeatedly smacked the steel table, straining to convey her innocence to the detective. 

Maybe afterward, when Dove had been rudely escorted to a cell, crammed already with other convicted bodies. When she had very little room to breathe, even less to turn and gather her bearings without hearing some sob story or boast fest. Perhaps a chip of mauve nail polish flaked off when that erratic woman stalked through the cell like a predator, grasped her hand to offer her a proposition. 

There were infinite possibilities when her nail polish began chipping, but Dove knew for sure that after her mild mind break, the polish had shed like a snake's skin. With it went her armor. Dove felt out of control, the itch she struggled with for so long came roaring back, filling her head with roaring thunder. 

It made her restless. 

She couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Everywhere she went, Dove could swear she smelled the sweet slightly nauseating odor of laughing gas and sweat. It made it hard to stay focused, and her an easy target for the police. Quickly the young woman earned the title ‘insubordinate’. Dove never knew loneliness like this before.

But then Bruce answered her call. And for a moment that dark feeling faded away.

She wasn’t prepared for it to return tenfold three months later.

***

Dove couldn’t help but fiddle with the buttons on the jacket he draped over her shoulders. The way it settled on her tense shoulders like a blanket soothed a toddler, it carried an inexplicable sense of security. The warmth of his body had remained trapped in the silk-lined fabric, thawing her from the horrors of being confined like an animal. 

A firm hand clasped the roundness of her shoulder, dragging her into the moment. The bustling movements and repetitive barking that characterized the police station rammed into her all at once. 

Her grip tightened on the button caught between her fingertips. 

“Ready to go?” No. Yes. Would the evening sun burn her after being deprived of it for so long?

“Yes.” Bruce led her through the corridor, out the door, and to the cherry red convertible that let all the sight-having citizens of Gotham know who was gracing their dangerous streets. The corvette played the perfect chariot for the golden Prince of Gotham, and Dove, in all her times of riding passenger, had never felt more unworthy. 

“Dove, are you okay?” Bruce watched her, her sullen attitude polluting the air around her. He hated seeing her like this, scared and broken. Luckily he knew how to fix it, but it would have to wait until the prerequisites were met. “You can talk to me, I won’t judge you.”

“I just,” her dam began to break. “Don’t know what to say. I-I don't know how to thank you. This was, you, what you did, how do I repay you?”

She couldn’t bear the look of pity she knew would be painted on his face, so burning eyes fell to her lap, watching her idle hands squirm in her lap. Her body flinched in the premium leather seat when a pale hand pierced her personal bubble to settle her restless fingers. 

“There is nothing to repay. You are someone I care about, I would do anything to help you.”

Dove looked at him head-on and opened her mouth to protest, to demand him to name his price because she’s lived long enough to know that nothing is free, but the gleam in his eyes stopped her before she could start. Even without getting to know him for the past few months, she had enough data in her brain to know Bruce Wayne was a stubborn person that came from a long line of equally stubborn individuals. 

By the flare of her nose, the billionaire knew the dragon had been defeated for now. Now for the next phase of his master plan. 

Dove’s demeanor slowly thawed out the further he drove them away from the precinct. Tense shoulders began to droop, twitching fingers calmed, her painfully stiff spine began to slouch, the fog of despair dissipated. The sullen woman worked up the energy to shift her focus from her lap to the window, watching the way the world passed by. 

Bruce had to resist jerking the steering wheel when a giggle escaped her cracked lips. 

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing to your billionaire mind. It always amuses me when people do double takes when they see this car. You can’t see their eyes but I know what they’re thinking. ‘Is that fucking Bruce Wayne?’ I always thought that when I saw you on my commute.”

Her tired voice perked up the longer she spoke, it warmed his ears. “Oh yeah?”

“The only other person that causes this reaction is Batman. He moves so quick and wears all that black so you can barely see him-”

Bruce slowed the car down to a stop as he waited for the light to change green. His jaw longed to clench and grind his molars against their opposites. It took no brain power to know what made his passenger stop her sentence. 

He hated that that was how she met his alter ego. The way her usually bright brown eyes were filled with nothing but panic and fear, fear of him, haunted him for days. He lost sleep thinking about how he was the one that turned her in, the reason she was detained in a cold cell downtown. 

It was all his fault and she didn’t know. Nor could she, not right now when things were so precarious. Bruce promised himself he would tell her soon, he had to. By his own hand, Bruce had trapped himself in a rock and a hard place. A splat of rain hitting the windshield broke the brooding man out of his thoughts.

“It never stops raining here. You know, I almost decided to move to Metropolis after hearing how bad the weather is in Gotham.” Dove said as her finger chased after a lone raindrop sliding down the tinted window, bare of the colored nail polish he remembered seeing the night of her arrest. 

“Oh yeah? What made you change your mind?”

“Bills. Everything is expensive in Metropolis. Rent, life insurance, cable, even car insurance and I don’t own a car! I calculated those numbers and signed the lease to my apartment the same day.”

“Gotham is cheap?”

“It's run down, Bruce. At least where I am. The same-sized apartment I got now is double the price in Metro. And it's not like rats are coming out the wall sockets or nothing, there’s too much crime for the landlords to charge an arm and a leg like they do in Metropolis.”

The light conversation distracted Dove from her demons. Instead of being mentally caged in the cell she could revisit the apartments she toured in the city before picking the one near Sheldon Station. 

“I think you just passed my turn, Bruce. Its a right on Rucha, remember-”

“Dove.” He spoke her name tensely. Bruce didn’t have to but for her sake, squeezed the wheel and twisted his grip to tell his unease. Like it pained him to deliver the next bit of news when it actually sent his heart racing with fervor. “I can’t in good conscious leave you alone there.”

Plump limps separated to express her shock. Before she could begin to protest, her savior put his hand up to stop her arguments. 

“Please, listen to me, Dove. I-” He sniffed his nose, seeming to hold back emotions he was too refined to express in public like this. “I don’t know who exactly you’ve gotten yourself involved with,”

Guilt coiled in her stomach like a cobra. Oh. Was she that awful and inconsiderate? For all he knew, Bruce could be getting himself involved with the biggest goons in Gotham for her sake. Was she really that self-absorbed? What was Dove thinking? Involving him in her plight. He was only trying to help her, the least she could do was hear him out. 

Paying no mind to the moving car, Dove failed to feel the increase in acceleration as she reached to touch his hand, soothe his mind, and coax out his thoughts. Times like this she wished he grew up normal, somewhere where showing emotions was okay.

“I don’t care either. I just want you safe. And the best way to do that is if you stay with me. At the manor.”

“Bruce-”

“I have the best security on earth. There isn’t another house for miles. No one pops up without a month’s notice. Alfred is trained in five forms of combat. You’ll be safe here. And that way, I won’t have to worry about you.” He ended that confession with a deep sigh, driving the point home. 

He cared so much about her, Dove realized. Her hips shifted if the premium leather seats. Outside the car, the beauty of Lemmars Park went ignored. The bridge that connected Uptown and the outskirts of the city loomed in the distance. Its overwhelming size didn't help to ease Dove’s nerves. She couldn’t even begin to see the other side of the bridge. The clouds and rain blocked what little light the streetlights provided the public. 

She wouldn't have to stay forever. Just a couple days, until her trial ended and her body found itself in the county jail or back on her worn mattress in her apartment she worked so hard to make cozy. 

Is Bruce asking for that much? A little staycation in the manor, being cared for and doted on by his lovely butler. Laughing and bonding with her friend. Learning new sides of his personality of the always posh and primped Bruce Wayne, sides that didn’t fit into his carefully molded character. Briefly, she wondered if he was the type to walk around in his draws or not.

Dove cast her eyes to his side profile. His jaw had tensed since he finished pleading his case. They neared the bridge. His grip on the wheel wavered before tightening until the leather squeaked.  Her hand had yet to move from his other. 

“I need to go home.”

Bruce cursed, out loud and at himself for falling for sucha stubborn mule of a woman. Was his tone not sappy enough? Should he have gone for a higher-pitched voice, and rubbed his jaw to showcase his distress instead of periodically gripping the wheel? It couldn’t be too late now. One last chance. 

“Dove-” 

“To pack up some clothes. Unless you have women’s clothing in a size 18 already in the guestroom’s closet?” Dove cracked the tiniest smile, those pretty crooked teeth lighting up the car. Bruce felt his chest concave. No, he didn’t have any clothing prepared for her in the guestroom.

Because he put the items in the master closet, next to his. 

“That wasn’t funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“How?”

“How about some of my special étouffée for breakfast tomorrow?” The convertible dipped as it rolled off the streets of Uptown onto the paved smoothed concrete of the bridge. They were almost home. 

“Can’t wait.” Dove could feel the honesty in his response. Her heart skipped a beat.

Oh, dear.

If I post a smut piece between Dove and Bruce, yall gon support it? This is the one series I have not added explicit scenes to and I'm wondering if it should stay that way? I don't write the best smut tbh, shit might be ass.

batman has died twice now by falcone’s hands but under my control

I’m playing telltale batman and honey if yall could hear me scream at these niggas. Ive called every one but Bruce and alfred a bum bitch. Vicki vale get the fuck out my house