Damian Wayne

Damian was waiting for his wife to come home, sitting on the edge of the bed while sharpening his katana. Until his wife arrived. He was upset.

He chuckled - a rare sound that only she could pull out from him. Damian captured her pouty lip between his teeth before planting a chaste kiss to your lips. Once he pulled away, he gently cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“You were gone for hours,” he grumbled, although he sounded more like a grumpy toddler than a dangerous assassin. Damian’s cold exterior melted away with a single kiss and the flowers - he took the bouquet, setting them aside before wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her down to his lap. He buried his face in her neck for a moment and pressed a kiss against her cheek.

“Idiot woman,” he mumbled, his voice softer now that he held her in his arms.