-> gn! reader, sorta? references to calorie counting and disordered eating, pls don't read if this is triggering for you <3

𝝑𝑒 ⏜ ︵ his way of loving , damian wayne 𓈒

　　A long exhale leaves your lips as you drape yourself over your boyfriend — head lying on his shoulder and cheek smeared against his neck, breathing in deeply.

Damian doesn't say anything, doesn't break the silence and doesn't move an inch. He stays seated in the bed, back still leaning against the headrest while his eyes follow the lines alongside the book.

His expression remains solemn, almost cold in a sense that makes you shudder. "I love you." you murmur, so quietly as if you were afraid of something. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck, already lying halfway across his body.

Silence settles — unsettling and uncomfortable for you. The night was breathing, the curtains fluttered, the soft thud of his book closing. The silence comes back, this time louder.

"I must use the restroom." he whispers back.

His poise feels sharp. But his silence to your affection lays somewhere deeper, unanswered and uncertain that makes your skin itch.

As if he cared enough to open your soul yet leaves it untouched. And before you realise, you are already sitting on the edge of the bed — the door closing behind him as he vanishes into the bathroom.

The frown tugs deeper on your face, corner of your lips weighing heavier than any burden. "You are supposed to say I love you too." you whisper under your breath, "am I being too needy?"

Your gaze drifts towards his desk. The fine details of a clean and composed order, everything in place and boring. You rise from the mattress and make your way to the table.

"I shouldn't..." you trail off, hands hovering above the papers. You still do — fingers brushing against the book to let it fall open in front of you, bare for your eyes only, “woops…”

But you halt at the very page already, gaze glued to the lines stretched across the paper — the contour and the shape so perfect that it steals your breath. The shading seems impeccable, the contrast perfect.

This cannot be.

You continue flipping through the papers, fingers grazing the edges softly, eyes attentively drifting to every curve and every line. You suck in a sharp breath, too intrigued to stop.

Until you reach the very last page. This time, a painting. With expressive colours and beautiful lighting. It makes you glow. As if he has memorised every single detail of you.

"Oh." you let out, seeing his signature etched into the fabrics and your name right beside his as if it belonged.

Every drawing and painting — it's perfect. It's beautiful. But for him, you are. The very definition of perfect.

You, you, you.

The heat crawls up to your head. Embarrassment fused with fluster. He loves you in his own way.

© 2026 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work ⸝⸝

divider source — @cursed-carmine ⸝⸝

check out the [ masterlist ] !

damian taglist — @leovaldez0924 , @luminarylorecat , @iamsomnia ⸝⸝

dc taglist — @fireriyu ⸝⸝

𝓑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒

─── ❨ 𝐧. ❩ there is a saying that wherever your beauty marks are , it is the place your past lover kissed you :: beauty marks are his reminders to show you the depth of his love !

content ⸝⸝ jason todd x fem . reader , drabble , fluff , suggestive , 0.76wc 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

　　"I have another one." you blink slowly.

Eyes set on your inner wrist—another beauty mark. Weird. You've been tracking your beauty marks for a while after noticing the growing amount of them.

"Really?" Jason hums, his gaze fixated on you since the very start, letting it wander around and eventually getting lost on your body, "c'mere."

You follow and make your way to him because you know—know too damn well that he has one goal in mind — to love you eternally and more than you've ever been loved.

Jason had this one habit of being a little competitive, wanting to beat sorts of people and even your lovers in your past life. As silly as this might sound, there is this certain phrase said by too many to comfort, to highlight beauty marks.

Beauty marks are there, where your past lover kissed you — and he fully believes every word of it.

So he made it his mission to litter you with kisses, to pamper you with affection and love that you've never experienced before to know the depth of his feelings.

"You love me so much." you tease, letting him hover above you as soon as you lay down in bed.

"I believe I don't love you enough." he whispers, taking a hold around your wrist to kiss the beauty mark, "can't find myself getting beat by your past lovers, y'know?"

RESIDENT EVIL 4 (2005)

Summary: When cramps have you canceling plans, Leon brings the plans to you.

Pairing: re9!Leon x gf!reader

WC/Tags: 1,107 / established relationship, lil age gap, period cramps, Leon being a sap

A/N: day 26 of @swoon-june ‘forehead kisses’ inspired by a Joel fic where the reader has her period, I realize I’ve never written a fic with that! If you know it please comment so I can give them credit for the inspo.

Sorry, I need to cancel tonight

Leon stares at your text, frowning. He begins wracking his brain because maybe, just maybe, he has done something wrong. He’s been working later, yes, but you’ve never had a problem with that before. He can’t help himself as he dials your number, bringing it to his cheek. Normally you answer on the first ring, but as the third goes off, he can feel panic ebbing at his side.

The sun’s brightness burning through the sunglasses, you made your way through the crowded streets of Metropolis as your work hours finished up for the day. The internship had been really difficult to get, and even though you loved what you were doing and getting experience in your field, it was undeniable how tedious and hard the job actually was.

Right after your graduation, a company reached out to you about spending a month during the summer preparing an apprenticeship, and with all the support from your family and friends, you applied and got in. After an incredibly selective process, you were one of the final candidates and were offered the position. Tragically, it required you to move to Metropolis during the length of the training period, forcing you to leave Gotham for a little while.

Everyone supported your decision, even going to say goodbye to you at the train station, but there seemed to be a familiar face whose features hid their true, saddened feelings at your leaving, that being your boyfriend. Nonetheless, you kept in contact daily with everyone, making it seem as if you never really left at all.

Finally reaching your studio, you mindlessly checked your mailbox, expecting maybe some ads or the more known empty space staring right back at you. However, a lone letter stood there, with a slightly yellowing envelope and sides very lightly crumpled, as if it stood in its owner’s hands for too long, debating whether to send it or not.

As you entered inside the actual apartment, you left your belongings on the nearest surface as you slowly scrambled to get the new mailer open. Its contents read as it follows:

To my dearest beloved:

Gotham seems to find itself a bit colder without you in it. I wish some interesting things happened so I could tell you more about them so I could avoid the main purpose of this letter a little further, as it is a bit embarrassing for me to admit, or that some tragic event shook the city horribly and your return was mandatory.

You might be wondering why I have not sent you a simple text message as the ones we exchange every day, but you deserve more effort for this than that. Also, you mentioned you enjoyed reading my penmanship whenever I left you a note in the margins of your books or in your mirror, so this is just a longer (and nicer, I hope) version of those.

I am afraid I find myself writing this letter to you because I struggle to express my feelings for you in person, but knowing I can express myself better via writing, and my sentiments are not something I want you to be doubtful of, this is the solution I came up with. I am not quite sure if I will actually give this to you or if it will just stay for my own personal collection of letters to you (fear not, I will let you read them at some point), but it is of utmost importance to me to set this clear.

I miss you. Terribly. Horribly. Every adverb in the English language you can imagine to express how much my heart aches for you.

I miss your warmth next to mine as you read while I draw and Alfred the cat sits beside us as if we were its parents. I miss the way you would unconsciously bring yourself closer to me at those god-awful galas I am forced to attend. I miss your incessant ramblings about your “hyperfixation of the week”, as you call them yourself. I miss how you care about my interest without making me feel small or immature. I miss your mindless singing sessions whenever your favourite artists came out with new music, or when you wanted to show me what you were enjoying at the moment.

I miss your constant in my life. Never did I take you for granted, but being kept away from you for such a long time truly made me feel grateful about Gotham and the easiness of travel available withing the city. I cannot visit you whenever you wish (or when I find myself longing for you, which I must admit is more often than not) to spend time with you or leave for a rendezvous just for us. I am aware I have visited already the city, but it is just simply not the same.

And worse of all, I miss your touch. I yearn for it, even. Never once did I expect to say that knowing my complicated history with it, but it is true. I miss how you fit in my arms after I come to your apartment home and you come greet me at the door. I miss interlocking my hands with yours when the weather gets too cold and you coincidentally forget your gloves. I miss when you are the only thing in my mind after patrol and I just want to stay beside you, and you stay too.

I believe I sound like a golden retriever teenage boy right now, but I cannot and will not hide anything from you, especially my deep affection. Everything in this city reminds me of you, and every time I leave the manor I wish you were beside me to show those silly little memoirs of you.

I am aware you will be away for a relatively short time, but it still feels emptier than I expected it to be. A selfish part of me hopes something would cause your earlier return, but those ideas vanish by the day of your return getting closer. In case you weren’t aware of it, your train back departs in 8 days, 14 hours and approximately 39 minutes from the moment I write this.

I am writing to you right now from the cave, and Tim keeps trying to glimpse at what is written, but it is my fault for composing this letter out in the open. It is my idea to send this out as soon as possible after finishing up, so that would align after patrol, and we leave in a few minutes; I must end this soon, beloved.

In the most childish, selfish way I could say this, I beg you to come home already to me, to the safety your our apartment, where I can make you tea and stare at you while you try those recipes you see online.

My love, my heart, my beloved: I adore you in a way that hurts my chest when I think about it too much. Please do write me back (I don’t care how, just hearing from you is enough) when you get this letter.

Yours, always yours

Damian Wayne

Staring affectionately at you, the delicate and familiar letters of the signature brought a toothy grin to your face, tears making themselves known in your eyes too as you kept re-reading again and again the message. You made your way through the inside of the room, trying to get your phone to facetime him to show your appreciation towards the unexpected display of adoration, doubting if he’ll acknowledge how paramount this was to you.

Truth is, your boyfriend isn’t exactly known for being open about his feelings for you except on the rare occasion where the thoughts got too loud for either of you or some assurance was needed. Nevertheless, you never doubted his love for you, as he did show it in countless ways, just not with words: he always, and I mean always, made sure to keep a space open for you, even if your presence was not guaranteed or expected, your spot was always right beside him; not as his companion or his “fling” as the press called it initially, but rather as his partner, his equal, his beloved.

summary : Jason and you are on bat-sitting duty, with little Damian Wayne. It’s not like Damian is comfortable around you or anything..

MASTERLIST ◞ DC MASTERLIST

The penthouse was quiet in the way only late nights could be — city lights twinkling far below, the low hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of the building settling. You and Jason had been roped into babysitting Damian for the night. Bruce and the others were out on a mission that required the full team, and Alfred had finally put his foot down that the youngest Wayne needed supervision.

Damian, of course, had not been pleased.

“I do not require babysitters,” he’d declared the moment he arrived, arms crossed, chin high. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

Jason had just smirked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Sure, kid. That’s why you’re here and not blowing up the manor.”

You’d smiled, trying to keep the peace. “We’re just hanging out. No big deal. We can watch a movie or something.”

Damian had eyed you both with suspicion but eventually relented, muttering something about “inferior entertainment options” as he stalked toward the living room.

The evening had gone about as expected.

RESIDENT EVIL: INFINITE DARKNESS (2021)

one night is all you wanted. one night he takes off patrolling to spend some time together, and it was going great at first! until tim was hunched over his laptop again.

you’d been watching him for twenty minutes now and couldn’t help but notice just how much more he’d been filling out his shirt.

just a plain black t-shirt, an old one he’s had for years, and it hugs his biceps a little tighter.

your eyes trail upward, sliding over the way his shoulders are starting to fill out more, the lean muscle shifting every time he reaches for his coffee or types away faster. the way his forearms have more definition.

in the most plain explanatory way: it gets you wet instantly.

the type of wet where you have to slip off to your shared room, lights off, only a fraction of moonlight filling the room, as you crawl onto the bed.

no time to get undressed, you lie on your stomach and reach a hand into your panties, already soaked, and sink a finger between your folds, moaning immediately upon contact. you rub your clit in tight circles, back arching, ass up to the ceiling as you rock against your hand just at the thought of him holding you down with his newfound strength and making you scream.

you get so lost in your self pleasure, teeth sinking into your pillow, needy whimpers muffled by the fabric, that you don’t even hear tim come in initially.

“oh—“ you hear him say from behind you.

with a speed that could rival the flash, you sit back on your haunches, pulling your hand out of your panties, your clit twitching hard and hole clenching down around nothing at the absence of your own fingers. “i’m sorry—“

“fuck,” his cock twitches hard in his sweats, and he strides to the bed, kneeling on the mattress behind you.

you’re pinned back down, toned arms caging you in.

“were you thinking about me?” he mumbles against your ear, long fingers snaking down to sink between your wet folds.

you both moan as he grinds against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is already.

“you’re in here fucking yourself stupid, hm?” he rubs a few circles over your sensitive clit before sinking two fingers inside with no warning, filling your clenching hole. “gonna make you cum on my fingers first and then i’ll fuck you properly.”