Delulu princess

Slowly you weaved your way around the counter to fill your glass at the tap. Despite not being a hundred percent sure what he was doing at the moment, you still leaned against the cabinet to watch him in action.

As if he could read your mind he spoke, but the words were muffled by his hand in front of his mouth, “I’m making myself lunch."

“A-huh.” You continued to watch him as he just stood there frozen, “Are you waiting for something?"

“Huh?” His head tilted slightly but he was still in the realm of stuck. “Just waiting for the…” he removed his hand and leaned closer to the furious frying pan, “the you know…"

Well this was just fantastic.

“All those years training and no one taught you how to cook?”

The sideways glare Bruce attacked you with was nothing short of scathing as he returned back to focusing on the seething frying pan.

“I can do this.” He muttered to himself, his eyebrow furrowed in concentration.

Perplexed your eyebrows shot up, you opened your mouth to ask if him if his personal mantra was ‘I am Batman, I can do anything’ but decided against it at the last second.

The click on the dial would have been salient, if the oil hadn’t been crackling and popping like it was in a Rice Krispies advert.

“You’re turning the hob down, right Bruce?”

“Err,” he blushed a pretty pink, which was quite uncommon for him, “Yes… No!”

“No?”

Gingerly he looked back up at you, “It won’t cook if I turn it down?”

Resisting the urge to wince you put your drink down on the counter, “Most things taste better when slow cooked, which means a lower heat also…” you tried using a gentle tone so as to not stress him out, “If the oil continues spitting everywhere you’re going to start a kitchen fire."

Suddenly he snapped up straight as if called to attention.

Sensing his growing panic you quickly moved forward, “Here I’ll turn it down for you, don’t worry,"

“Oh no, oh no. Alfred will kill me if I destroy his kitchen, he’d be… I mean…” Bruce spluttered as he held his head with his hands in his hair. “He’d be very angry that you ignored his very simple instruction to not use his kitchen while he was gone.” You filled in sweetly, turning the heat way, way lower.

“Yes!”

… Did he just have a voice crack?

Did Batman just have a pubescent teenage boy moment? Whatever, the novelty of the moment wore off pretty quickly as you cast a cursory glance at the bowl you asked, “What’s in that?"

“Omelette."

You turned to him shocked, “You know how to make an omelette?"

Awkwardly he scratched the back of his neck, “I found one of Alfred’s recipe books."

“How long did that take?” You asked bewildered.

“I know where they are, I’ve lived here all my life.” He said suddenly with much more gusto as he crossed his arms.

“Right…” you drew back slightly, reassessing the situation as you boyfriend was acting like a spoiled, grumpy cat and for some reason you liked it "do you want me to make it for you?"

“Maybe…” He muttered morosely.

“What was that?” You snapped with an authoritarian tone.

“Yes please.” Bruce was still mumbling, but at least he was looking at you (it was also a lot easier to hear him now that the oil had calmed down).

“Ok… usually I use butter for the pan, but it's alright.” After a few moments of adjusting to the stove (in Bruce’s defence it was quite old) you began to make one of the omelette’s for Bruce, quietly explaining what you were doing as you went along.

As you waited for the first side of the omelette to cook you felt Bruce’s arm snake around your waist as he rested his head on top of yours, his breaths disturbing the strands.

“Thank you,” he murmured and then placed a kiss in your hair, “Your hair smells really nice." Bruce continuing to nuzzle his nose

“I’m glad you like my shampoo."

Then you heard a sniffing sound and laughed louder, “Are you concussed?"

“Maybe.”

You gulped as you took in the words, this was dangerous territory you were stepping into, but a little voice inside urged you on, telling you that this was all you’d ever wanted. “I can make you feel hot.” You uttered darting a glance at his lips.

His eyes flashed for a moment with a dangerous eager gleam before he looked away. “I cannot control myself beyond a certain point beloved, I would never risk your life in such a way.”

“Because you need me to feel simple pleasures.” The words fell bitterly from your lips as you crossed your arms.

“Because I love you so.”

The confession made your lips and arms drop open, the rain still pattered against the window, the owl continued hooting outside, the World still carried on even though your perception of reality had been altered by a single sentence. But is it really fair of you to be so affected? His actions have screamed how much he cared for you, perhaps you’re just too emotionally blind to see it.

After all who’d want to admit they’re in love with a vampire?

“Damian.” You whispered, letting your hands glide to your hair and gently guiding it over one shoulder to give him access to your neck. “I would never want you to be cold.”

It was too much for you to admit the depths of your feelings for him, not while your mind was still stark and aware.

Damian took a pause making your breath hitch, the thought that you may have offended him made your chest tighten, but slowly he leaned towards you until his icy breath caressed the skin on your neck lovingly.

A twin shudder passed through both of you as his nose marked the spot that he would soon enough take blood from.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

The sting of his fangs penetrated your sense of calm as your head fell back and a yelp of pain escaped your lips, but Damian’s waiting hand was poised to catch your head as he hungrily drank from your neck giving you the occasional groan to prove his pleasure.

Gradually you could feel his skin getting hotter and see a light blush returning to his cheeks, but as time grew longer your vision began to sting until it was only comfortable to keep your eyes closed. The thumping of your heartbeat and a high pitched sound invaded your neurones until it was all your panicked brain could process. Deep down you were aware that you were clutching onto Damian like a lifeline, who was holding you equally as tight.

Then the initial tsunami of sensation began to trickle into a more gentle flow, as you could feel the blood being drawn from you in controlled sips- Damian had never lost control before when taking your blood, but sometimes you noticed when he became even faster in his sucking.

Soon it felt like a simple hicky, but you knew better than that- Damian Wayne never did anything half way, every experience with him was enriched in desire and careful expertise.

He let the hand that wasn’t holding you in place smooth up and down the curvature of your torso, giving the occasional nip with his teeth to ensure you knew he still cared for your pleasure too. The blood was still being drained from you, but it was becoming so difficult to care. The only thing you wanted from him to continue and never stop.

One moan tumbled from your lips, then two, then three, suddenly all the sounds coming from your mouth were akin to the ones that you made whenever Damian used his hands to pleasure you.

“Damian.” You breathed out your body rolling with the rhythm that his was against yours.

“Yes?” The word was muffled as his mouth was still latched to your skin.

“Damian!” You whined desperately, planting your hands into his shoulders, which up until this point had been wondering his body like a hungry explorer.

“Beloved.” He whispered, taking the cue and removing his fangs from your person, then placing sweet, soft kisses on the wound as he traced your collar bone with his finger.

“Oh…”

“You did very well beloved, so perfect for me.” Damian praised carrying on with his tender movements across your skin.

Your hand searched for his finger and when you found it you smiled tiredly, “You’re warm…” Even though you’d be sore for the next couple days it would all be worth it if it made Damian happy, if it made his life a little easier to bare. Seeing his joyous grin made you feel elation you’d never felt before.

There was no point in hiding the fact anymore, not when his happiness was your own, “I love you Damian.”

“I love you too beloved.” Damian’s voice was uncharacteristically wobbly as your eyes blurred together, “Rest now…”

Smiling you took the box from Jason, it had the same weight of 3 or 4 phones stacked on top of each other and was a perfect rectangular shape.

Anticipation clothed your hands as you slowly peeled back the wrapping paper.

Jason smirked, “Don’t worry babe it’s not fragile, go full out.”

Eagerly you tore open the gift as everyone ‘ooooed’ at the jet black wooden box in your hands, there was a silver key hole and Jason quickly handed to you a matching key.

The lock clicked after you inserted the key and slowly opened the box to reveal the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen (excluding Jason of course): there was a shiny silver dagger with a hilt encrusted with dazzling rubies and vine like engravings snaking up the shaft. The light glinted off the dagger illuminating the wild grin on your face.

Gleefully you smiled at Jason and for a moment it felt as though you two were the only people left in the World, this memory would just be yours until…

“What in the actual fuck is that.”

“It’s obviously a dagger Drake, it’s not the same design we used to ha-“

“Yeah duh,” Tim scoffed before turning towards you, “but y/n you’re a civilian!”

“Oh my gosh is that dried blood?” Stephanie cried and pointed with her finger, reeling back into Cass.

But their complaints were silenced as you flung yourself into Jason’s arms, “Oh Jason I love it!”

Jason’s deep chuckle muffled in your hair as he hugged you back just as tightly, “I’m glad you like it babe, I saw it a couple of months ago and immediately thought of you.”

“Aww Jason.” You peppered his face with kisses ecstatically already thinking of where you were going to put your new dagger and how you were going to properly thank Jason for it later.

“While this is touching can we put it away before Bruce gives us a lecture on knife safety?”

“Dagger safety Drake.”

“Shut up!”