#dc lot x male reader

[gatorbites-imagines]

Apparently I have a twin now, so I'll call myself 'Crow Doctor'.

But can I request a Nightwing x Male Rogue Reader?

Basically, while Nightwing is fighting some other Rouges, he's hit with fear toxic or something and gets knocked out.

Reader being a bootleg medic of sorts, takes Nightwing to his hideout and patches him up. Taking care of him until he wakes up.

When he does, he figures out that Reader is a doctor who patches up and gives aid to the citizens of gotham that can't afford medical bills or insurance. and maybe after a bit, they start catching feelings for the other.

- Crow Doctor

Dick Grayson x Rogue Male Reader

Headcanons

Sorry this took a million years to write Crow, but I hope you enjoy it anyways :3c

Kinda took the rogue aspect and ran wild. Thought since you went by Crow Doctor, a plague doctor would be fun.

You were one of the newer Gotham Rogues, a next gen, as some would say. They called you Cadaver King, because of your start in the city, scattering corpses all over a specific area of the city, like you were marking your territory.

You wore something mildly inspired by plague doctors, only furthering your image as some kinda wacky insane doctor. No ones ever actually seen you carve people open for fun, but the rumors run rampant and keep normal criminals and gangs out of your territory.

Sure, bodies would still pile up at the borders of your territory as you slowly grow your area, and you have been thrown into Arkham more than once, but you always get out one way or another.

Unlike the other rogues, you are always able to stay out much longer, because you never just attack the public for no reason. You are most known for the cadavers found around the place stitched closed and looking like science experiments.

The bats quickly figure out that all the cadavers they find are criminals, people who do crime and hurt others just because they can, and never someone who steals or does crime because they have no other choice.

You get some respect from Red Hood for this reason, especially when he sees you targeting those that hurt children, using them in sick experiments and furthering your medical knowledge.

The Bats never figure out that under the surface, you are the backer to most smaller medical clinics around the city. The ones not run by Wayne at least. You are a monster, yes, but like all villains you have an origin story, and yours involves those you cared for not getting the medical help they needed, because they couldn’t afford it.

In your past, you would help anybody you could for free, finishing medical school top of your class. But your less than stellar past caused prejudice in many, and you found yourself used and abused by those above you in the food chain.

It didn’t help that you would steal to support those who couldn’t afford medical help themselves. What finally caused you to snap was getting caught stealing medicine, and instead of just getting you arrested, one of the top doctors in the hospital poured dangerous liquids all over you, scarring you for life and putting you in a constant state of torture.

Seeing so many innocent people die because of greed, and seeing your superior laughing as you writhe and wail in pain, is what breaks you. He ends up the first of your many cadavers, his body splayed out in his own operating theater.

Its only a very long time later that people discover just who’s doing all this killing, since so much death and murder happens around Gotham. It’s the fact that they have all been cut and stitched up professionally that clues the Gotham Police in on it being the same guy.

Then you start making a name for yourself, you start fighting the Bats, you target public figures, leaving their bodies hanging from their mansions or workplaces. All whilst wearing your plague doctor mask.

You have even done procedures on multiple of the bats over the years, never anything that could kill them, and it always ends up being stuff that helps them in the long run. They don’t know that though, they just think you are a psycho that likes to cut into people.

All the backstory aside, its this that leads to you hanging around in the shadows and observing as the Bats are fighting the latest Arkham escapees. Scarecrow has pulled himself into your territory, and whilst you like Jonathan, and have worked together many times, it still annoys you.

Seeing Nightwing go down because of fear toxin also makes your blood boil. Mainly because, unlike Jonathan who only seemed to care about fear, you were still a doctor at heart, and you knew how much fear toxin could harm the body, having treated many patients in the past.

That’s why you end up chasing Jonathan out of your territory, wielding different surgical tools and other blades on your person.

Returning to the rooftop with the passed out hero, you don’t even have to think about throwing him over your shoulder and bringing him to one of your many, many, medical studios around the city.

The only people who has more hideouts than you is probably the bats, and yours are definingly more medically equipped than theirs. You never know when youll find a patient, or how quickly they need treatment, so of course you and your lackeys have as many treatment areas as possible.

Theres not much you can do about fear toxin outside of giving Nightwing an antidote and giving him some oxygen to clear it out of his system faster. You stay nearby to observe him though as you work on patient reports.

Normally your lackeys stand for it, all lackeys having above average medical knowledge in general, but you like to check stuff over yourself, just in case. It’s a great way to spend time as you wait, and being productive during.

You have a lot of reports to answer from your lackeys during the night, as the other rogues being out means a lot of patients you need to help. Unlike other lackeys, yours don’t really wear uniforms, meaning they can sneak around without the bats knowing they’re yours.

The only thing that puts them out as yours, is the fact that they all always have medical equipment and first aid kits on their person. You honestly find it kinda funny how the Bats can never seem to figure out your ways, at least not fast enough, as you change up how you do things constantly.

As the night passes, with you waiting for Nightwing to wake up, you end up removing your outer layers. Shrugging off your heavy coat and gloves, even taking off your plague doctor mask. Underneath you wear a compression therapy mask most days, as the liquids the doctor threw on you left lifelong damage.

In the beginning you had been horrified and disgusted by your appearance, but over the years you had come to accept it as a part of yourself. You found out it had a tendency to make patients trust you more, as they knew you had been through something just as horrible as themselves, so you never tried to fix it with plastic surgery.

When Nightwing finally wakes up, you check on him, go through the basics, make sure he’s all there, before you shove him out of your studio. He doesn’t even have time to ask who you are, or what you are doing, or why you helped him.

Going back to the cave, he talks to the other Bats, and they are able to find the injection point where you injected the antidote to the fear toxin, and they can find clues to the treatment you gave him.

You owning an antidote means you are either connected to the Gotham Police, or, you are able to find it yourself, meaning you are a criminal. It puts you on their radar, both as Cadaver king, and as yourself.

The only one who would probably recognize you is Batman himself, since he’s always the one putting you in Arkham, but none of the others have ever seen your face.

Dick finds himself drawn to you in some way, and he ends up hanging out in the area you treated him, hoping to find you again.

Its only coincidence that he ends up in your territory again next time he’s really banged up from patrol and you find him. You are maskless again, compression mask on, as you scoff at his sorry state and drag him to the same studio you used last time.

It becomes a common occurrence, Dick running off to you to get treated. He even starts entering your studio when you are not there, and its only thanks to the sensors you have around the place that you know he’s there, since you don’t give him a way to contact you.

As time passes, he finds himself in your studio for the smallest cut or bruise, just because he wants to spend time with you, and you can’t find it in yourself to send him away since the acrobat has quadruple flipped his way into your heart.

The first time he sees your full face, covered in scars like it is, you can’t help but be gripped by fear that he will be disgusted by you. But instead, he just smiles and looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Its only after you guys have been a thing for a while, that he discovers your rogue status. And it’s because he’s spending time in your studio again, when you come barreling in, in full rogue getup, carrying one of your lackeys who had a bad run-in with killer croc.

Dick just stands in the shadows and watches with wide eyes as you rip your mask off and get ready for surgery. He watches as you bark as your other lackeys to get them ready, and he watches as you save the lackeys life.

Somewhere inside Dick probably already knew who you were, how else would you have access to the kinda equipment Gotham’s biggest hospital struggled to get their hands on. He knows all you do for people, as you guys have talked about it before, and he can’t find it in himself to hate you for the fact that you target the worst scum of the earth and use them to further your knowledge.

Its only after you finish up with your lackeys that you look at him, a sad look in your eyes as you know you guys will need to talk.

Its ends with you two on the rooftop of the building, spending a long time just sitting and talking. Talking morals, personal codes, your past, your future, so on and so forth.

But instead of breaking up with you, Dick ends up pulling off his domino mask and telling you who he is before kissing you. You are both people with missions, and Bruce is the one with the no killing rule. The fact that your experiments have slowed down a lot over the years only helps.

You are great at keeping secrets, and you can never find it in yourself to expose Dicks identity no matter what.

You end up worming your way into Anti-hero status as Cadaver King, since it starts to become public knowledge that you have so many legal medical facilities all over town, and that all your lackeys know medical knowledge to help people.

Doesn’t stop you from hunting down corrupt doctors or those that use and manipulate the weak and desperate, but that’s just how it.

Imagine the Batfams reaction when Dick brings you to dinner at the manor for the first time. They know Dick is in a relationship, and has been for a while. Bruce almost chokes on his drink when Dick shows up with you on his arm though.

Most of the family will accept you though, especially with your anti-hero status. You probably end up getting along most with Jason though, since you guys already got along as Red Hood and Cadaver king.

Expect to become the entire batfams doctor though, taking some weight off of Alfreds shoulders. Even Alfred can get overwhelmed with how many of them there are. Ends up letting you get along well with Alfred though, so that’s a plus.

[mlm-writer]

Prophecy (John Constantine x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  John Constantine (LoT ver.) x Gender Neutral!Demon!Reader (with two dicks and tentacles) Rating: Explicit Words: 1014 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 25 - Monsterfucking Note: Reader is not referred to with any gendered words. Reader just has a dick.... well two actually... king shark style.... Tags: demon fucking, anal, anal fingering, biting, tentacles, manhandling, wet and sloppy, double penetration, PWP and haiku at the end

A filthy moan vibrated through the tentacle you had shoved down John’s throat. You could feel his oesophagus bare down onto your extremity. When he seemed to choke, you retracted the tentacle to rest the end on his tongue. John opened his eyes, tears streaming down his crimson cheeks as he breathed around your appendage. “So pretty,” you cooed as your other tentacles caressed his glistening body. 

Two of them had suctioned down onto his nipples, pressing down and pulling on the sensitive flesh. Each movement allowed you to feel his cock twitch, which you currently had sandwiched between your two own, a tentacle wrapped around it to keep your cocks snugly together. “Please,” John whispered with his mouth still full. You shut him up by pushing the tentacle back down his throat, reaching as deep as you knew he could handle it. He moaned in satisfaction. 

You could smell his arousal, the air in the warehouse thick with the odour of lust. Your other four tentacles held John up in the air, giving your hands all the access you desired to his pretty hole. John sucked so eagerly; it was hard to tell whether the whine was from your tentacle slipping deeper down his throat or from a third finger joining the wet mess inside him. His flushed skin was like a furnace in the poorly isolated, abandoned building. The only light came from the moonlight coming through the windows near the ceiling and the summoning circle below you, where the flames warmed your body. The red light coming from below created erotic shadows on John’s body. You couldn’t hold back anymore and turned John over, your tentacles manhandling him into a bent over position with his ass at your mouth’s height. You bared your triangular teeth to the world, before pressing them into the softness of John’s ass. 

John moaned as he felt you almost pierce his skin. He didn’t care if you did. He had been edged so often by now, he would let you do anything to him. He just needed to cum; he needed your permission to cum. His cock was dripping arousal onto the weathered concrete, the cold air helping him to repress the orgasm he had been on the brink of - over and over. “Why are you always such a fucking menace?” He slurred, trying to wiggle his hands free so he could stroke his weeping cock, but your body and all its extremities left no room for him to move. 

His taunt was all the instructions you needed from him. You bit down on the other cheek, dragging your sharp teeth down to leave angry red lines. The sound coming from him was primal, desperate and obscene. You lowered him, aligning his fingered-open hole with your cocks. You pressed the tip of the lower one against his entrance. The tapered tip slipped inside easily. You pressed forward, stretching him more and more the deeper you went. The base was too thick for him, but you knew he would be able to take that and much more eventually. 

A euphonic song of gasps and moans came from the warlock as you worked him open with your enormity. He was hot around you, his arousal filling your senses. His filthy moans filled your ears. You could smell the precum that was dripping onto the ground. Your vision was focused on where you saw your length almost entirely disappear inside of him. Your fingers digged into his plump ass, your left thumb pressing into the crimson lines you left earlier. All that was missing was his essence on your tongue. 

Your tentacles moved, keeping John speared on your hardness as you pressed his back against your chest. Two of your tentacles held him by the knees now, keeping his legs spread. Another two held him below the arms. Another wrapped itself around John’s neck, lightly choking him. Yet another grabbed him by the hair [why did I give you so many tentacles?], forcing his head to turn so you could kiss him. Saliva covered his lips and dripped down his chin as you ravaged his mouth. The two tentacles you still had left wrapped around his middle and moved him on your cock like a toy. Your second cock rubbed deliciously between his cheeks with each thrust. You moaned into his mouth, hands reaching for his nipples. Even the lightest touch to the abused nubs made John whimper. 

With the new angle, John took you to the base so easily. The human’s skin was slick from the secretion coming from your many appendages. John felt like he was drowning. He was wet all over in your slick. Tongues danced sloppily as he was filled with your cock. “Another,” he managed to moan against your lips. You understood, one hand letting go of his red nipples to angle your second cock in line with his stretched hole. John’s delighted cry echoed through the building when the tip of your second cock slipped inside along the first one. 

John was near-incoherent as you speared him open with both your cocks. His length twitched pathetically against his abdomen, precum joining your juices on his skin. “You can cum for me John,” you whispered into his ear, your tongue darting out to tease his earlobe. He whimpered in reply, something about how you had the tendency to continue, how you were unlikely to stop, how it hurt so good. Your triangular teeth teased his ear as you chuckled ominously.

The warlock screamed like his life depended on it as you renounced mercy and tightened his grip on him. A wet squelch accompanied every thrust into his spit open body. You could feel John tighten around you, the most pitiful moans filling the room as he painted his own body and face white. “That’s it, warlock,” you delighted in his helplessness. Your tentacles manhandled John onto the floor, upper body against the concrete and ass up. “Now let’s fulfil your prophecy.” 

You continued on.  You were unlikely to stop.  And it hurt so good. 

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || SILK & SHAPESHIFTERS

Sam Winchester x Thick!Fem!Reader

Content Warning reader being shorter than Sam, reader desc as having thick thighs, dean being annoying, swearing, reader wanting to fuck sam (but no sexual content in this fic)

Summary Fluff, (Sexual tension lowk) strangers to acquaintances to lovers(?) - You didn't work in the field. You did research. But when your good friend Bobby Singer asks you to help some friends of his by posing as a couple at a charity ball, you don't refuse.

W.C. 2.2k words

Ask anon: A: Hello hello! I'm back again; I'm going to change my request style a bit, how about a female reader with thick thighs? Make her with Sam please

Playlist: ♫ Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

A.N. sam fic ! i am curvy so i was excited asf for this req !!! part 2 coming soon... ;) - claire xx

Being a Lore-keeper has its perks. It let you put your literary degree to some use, and it didn't usually get you into too much trouble. But, tonight it had. Bobby Singer was one of your favorite hunters; always treated you well, housed you in sticky situations, and sometimes had books or information you didn’t know about that he offered for you to borrow. Usually, he came to you for information. He didn’t hunt a lot, but it was still more than you hunted. But, when he and his hunter friends did go out looking for trouble, he often came to you for information. When he’d asked you to help out some of his family on a case that was real serious, you agreed begrudgingly. But only after Bobby told you your outfit, dinner, and drinks that night would be paid for by this said ‘family’ of his. 

You’d already done a bit of research for him about this particular case and even you knew it was a tricky one. You’d spent the last week trying to piece all of the information together — running it through your countless trusted lore books, sites you favored, and even paper clippings and newspapers from the library. The place in question was only a few hours from Bobby’s in some fancy estate you’d mapped out by memory the last few days. You were guessing it was your least favorite of the supernatural creatures you’d perilously studied — shapeshifters. They made your skin crawl, and were tricky when they came in multiple. The family you suspected they were impersonating were the Bradys, a rich family that had lived in South Dakota for generations and hosted fundraiser parties each year for some organization their rich friends ran. Some of the members of the family had been photographed partaking in some suspicious activity, activity of which the police deemed fine of course; but you were smart enough to know this was your type of problem. A few of them had also seemingly gone missing, and either mysteriously turned up fine, or were still a missing persons case. 

You decided to use Bobby’s as a place to get ready the second he offered, he lived closest anyways. You thought it was best to come over in the morning to talk more to him and whoever you were going on the case with, plan everything out. He’d been vague about who it was, though, and when you walked inside and saw Sam and Dean Winchester holding suits, a shopping bag, an EMF reader, and a pack of Coronas, you knew why. 

You’d never given the boys information directly — Bobby had told you he relayed much information from you to them in tricky cases, but that the older one, Dean, was too prideful to ask you directly yet. Of course, like all male jackass hunters, he had eventually asked when he learned what they were dealing with and all the intricacies that you were extremely skillful in. The catch was that you hated field work, but also loved an excuse to get dressed up. You’d told Bobby your dress and shoe size, and sure enough, the taller one was holding a dark velvety blue dress over his arm. 

“y/n, this is Sam, and this is Dean.” The shorter one, though he towered over you still, stuck out his hand, that jackass smirk on his face you knew he’d have. 

“Heard a lot about you.” He spoke, the smirk still on his, admittedly handsome, face.

You didn’t like having your guard up. You hated it really, but being in your line of work and constantly dealing with men who dismissed your intelligence made you rightfully put up walls when you’d first meet them. 

“Heard a lot about you too, but don’t think that means I’m your best friend now. I’m doing this for Bobby.” 

The taller one smiled gingery, letting out a silent laugh watching Dean’s ego deflate. You turned to him, sticking out your hand. “Sam. Nice to meet you. And uh, thanks for coming out on this case, Bobby said field work isn't usually your thing so we really appreciate it.” You already preferred him. A lot, actually. He was tall, and looked way too fucking cute in that oversized brown hoodie he still had on despite being inside Bobby’s fairly warm home. 

“We’re taking off at five so we’ll be right on time, okay?” Dean said to the two of you, rolling his eyes at how you hadn’t made any sassy comments at his brother. 

“Sounds good. May I have my items, gentleman? I’m not doing this for free.” Sam smiled again, more noticeably this time, handing you the dress and shoes, and a purse, which you hadn't asked for but were not going to turn down. 

“Thank you. So, the game plan is…?” “Game plan is you and I pose as a date and distract people while Dean sneaks around and corners a couple shifters, ganks ‘em, and then we get out before all hell breaks loose.”

You shrugged, looking at Sam, “Sounds good to me.” Of course he was cute and smart. God, you usually never let some guy get between you and case work, but he was making it hard. But if all you had to do was pose as a couple…

“Wait. If you needed me for acting I don’t know why you couldn’t call someone else.” 

“We don’t know who's a shifter and who isn’t. That’s the problem. You know their tells, what makes them tick, how to trick them, the layout of the place. Bobby's got some ear pieces for all of us so you can help me from afar, don’t have to get your hands dirty.” Dean grunted, losing his dark leather jacket and grabbing a suit, heading to the bathroom to change. 

“How thoughtful,” you mused, and he smiled annoyingly at you.

“We’ll talk more in the car, okay? Just get ready and we’ll be here if you have any more questions.” Sam said softly. HIs voice was deep and smooth, and it made you want to grab him by his collar and lock the two of you in Bobby’s guest room. Instead, you opted for pushing your thighs together and clearing your throat. “Sounds good. Thank you.” He smiled, going into the guest room with his own suit. You opted to lock yourself upstairs in the bathroom blasting music while you did your makeup in order to pump yourself up. You were a bit nervous, but you didn’t have to do dirty work, you got a nice new outfit, hopefully a nice drink, and a hot date? This was much better than how you thought your night was going to go — curled up on the couch, looking through way too many old files and books for another hunter, playing an old movie in the background and wishing you were elsewhere. You liked your job, you really did. But sometimes it drove you crazy how little you saw other people, people your own age especially. Tonight was like a gift sent from the angels. Well, ones that you hadn’t met; so far they had all been dicks. 

“y/n, ya’ almost ready?” Dean called up, just as you finished styling your hair in a classy style. 

“Coming!” You came down the stairs in a navy dress that hugged your curves pretty well, you thought. The dress was pretty low cut and the sides came up at a slit high up on your right leg. You honestly felt exposed, you usually didn't dress like this. Sam still had your heels, and when you came down, the first thing you saw was his eyes on your legs, stopping him from tying up his shoes.

You heard a low whistle behind you, and Dean’s gruff voice, “Damn, you clean up nice.” Bobby smacked him over the head with the book he was reading, going to the kitchen to get you an earpiece he had for each of you. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You smiled, walking over to Sam on the couch. He was still occupied with your dress, and his eyes were making your face burn up. Your brain couldn't decipher how he was feeling based on his face… you teetered between him wanting to rip off your dress and stay home with you all night, or that he thought you looked…not good. You knew you didn't have skinny model legs, but that wasn't you job. Your job was to decode, translate, find, and relay important information to hunters, stopping people from dying. That was you job, and you were good at it. There was so much more to you than your looks, and if someone couldn't see that then fuck them. But, with how stuffy the room was and how close Sam was to you, you wrapped your arms around your shoulders, sitting a bit far from Sam asking for your shoes despite the voices in your head telling you you were fine.

“Y-yeah, here. I’ll put them on.” Your mouth opened to speak, but it was dry and nothing came out. Sam leaned down from the couch, sitting on his knees right in front of you. You finally stretched out your left ankle, and he slid on one of the black stilettos they'd picked out for you. He set down your foot after buckling the straps, grabbing your right ankle and moving it forward gently, causing the fabric of your dress to fall between your thighs on one side, and on the very back of your hip on the other, your leg completely bare. Sam finished tying up your second shoe, his eyes flashing to your soft thigh before clearing his throat and offering a hand to help you stand up. 

Once you were stable, you flattened down your dress. You looked up at Sam and pouted at how much taller he still was than you. 

“Aren’t these like…almost 4 inches?” Sam looked down at you and chuckled deeply. 

“Uh, yeah. They are. Disappointed you're still shorter than me?” You rolled your eyes and glimpsed over him — eyes trailing his fitted black suit, the fabric clinging to his chest and legs nicely.  

“What are you, like part giant? 7 feet tall?” You said it as a joke, but you honestly thought he had to be close to that. 

“Please,” Sam said, a bit close to your ear, leaning down to talk to you, “I’m…6’5. Just about.”

“Jesus…” you muttered, and realized you’d said it outloud. “Uh, we should get going soon, I think, it’s almost five, right?”

Sam nodded, squinting his eyes at your lower body so quickly you almost missed it. Dean put ear pieces in each of your hands and showed you how to use them. You followed the brothers out to their car and said bye to Bobby.

“Be careful, idjits. Keep in contact.”

“Will do.” You said, smiling to Bobby before getting in the back of the car, Sam opening and closing the door for you before sliding into the front seat a bit awkwardly from how long his legs were.  

“Ready?” Dean uttered, putting his elbow on Sam’s seat. 

“As ever.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, seeing Dean’s vividly green eyes through the rear view mirror. Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC came on, and Sam mused on your quiet singing.

“You like AC/DC?” Sam asked, turning around a bit to talk to you more clearly. 

“Yea, that, Metallica, some Guns N’ Roses, Rolling Stones....” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes, knowing Dean would have some stupid comment about that. 

“Really?” Dean spoke up, turning down the music a bit.

“Yes. Don’t cream your pants.” Sam smiled at that. It wasn’t super often that women Dean hit on shut him down as unreservedly as you did. 

“I know you got eyes for my idiot brother, but at least entertain me.”

“Okay. Who was the one that picked out the dress? And shoes? And purse?” You smirked at the back of Dean’s head. 

“Sammy…” Dean mumbled begrudgingly. 

“That's what I thought. Can you turn the music back up?” Dean’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He’d never had someone come in his car and tell him to do something like that, but he did so without saying anything. 

Hours passed, and the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the biggest most obnoxious house you’d ever seen. 

“Jesus. Showoff much?” Dean voiced from the front seat, unbuckling and stepping out. Sam followed, opening your door before you got the chance. 

“So civilized.” You said poshly, seeing that adorable smile you liked seeing on Sam’s beautiful face. 

“Alright. You two go inside first. Use the earpiece to tell me when you know where one is, tell me which way to go. We don’t know each other, got it? You got your fake, y/n?” said Dean.

“My what?” Sam handed you an ID with a photo of your face, but it didn’t say your name. “How many of these do you guys have? Actually, don’t answer that.” Sam held out his right arm and you slid yours under his. He began walking, taking large spread out steps. You saw his face flash, knowing he realized you were struggling to keep up; not just from your heels, but from his obnoxious height. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, again, with that deep, smooth voice close to your ear. Fuck. This is gonna be a hard night. 

[mr-celestial-writings]

Cherry Red

Pairing: Jason Todd x Male! Reader

Summary: Red was Jason's color. He Associated it with many things, You made him associate it with something new.

DC MASTERLIST

================================================

Red, It was a color Jason was familiar with. He proudly declared it as his color.

Red was the color of many things, anger, blood, at least those were wat Jason associated the color with at first.

Then, Jason met you. At first he was annoyed and bothered by you, a civilian that wasn't scared and often stood up to criminals. However, it often lead to you getting yourself in trouble. Jason was often the one to save you.

You were kind, but you were far from naive and weak. Jason saw a bit of himself in you. You were both Street Kids that the world screwed over, he'd come to discover.

You were brave, refused to let any of the kids in your neighborhood fall victim to any scum. As brave as you were, you were powerless. None the less you did what you could.

Jason respected that, and maybe that's why he began seeking you out.

It started small, just him keeping an eye on you. He saw how the kids of your neighborhood called you "Big Brother". It made his heart feel warm. You were good people, that much was obvious.

Every time he saved you, he struck up a bit more of a conversation, which was certainly a shock to your system. Anybody would be a bit worried if known Crime Lord Red Hood began speaking to them. Yet, you found him to be a bit awkward. He was sweet, kind. You felt a bit silly being scared by him at first.

Then, Jason introduced himself to you as Jason when his bike broke down in front of your building. He didn't plan this, he was really nervous, but you helped him none the less.

You two hit it off as friends, exchanging phone numbers as you got Jason's bike working again.

From there, you two kept talking. And eventually, you got the balls to ask Jason out.

He was a flustered mess and the rest of the family would not stop teasing him.

From there, the rest is history. Jason proudly calls you his boyfriend, you two have a functional, healthy relationship.

Red, Red was Jason's color. It was the color of his blood as the Joker beat him, it was the color of his anger when he came back.

You taught him that Red is a lot more than that.

Red is the Color of passion, of love, of the flowers you bring him.

Cherry Red is the color of your ChapStick, the taste of your lips when he comes home.

Red is Jason's color, but you taught him it was so much more than that.

================================================

a/n: I love Jason so much and every thing I learn about him from the comics makes me love him even more.

[sasheneskywalker]

tumblr batfandom diagram

in honor of my second anniversary of joining the tumblr bat fandom i present to you this chart describing my observations (this is slash j, i tried to make it humorous and as even as possible)

[reads comics/doesn't ship batcest:

often looks down on fanon only fans

hates wfa

while trying to correct fanon misconceptions often overcompensates and creates an equally fanon take just in the opposite direction

incessantly complains about people mischaracterizing their faves and the general state of the fandom

has dozens of comic panels saved so they can whip them out when arguing about canon with somebody

has one blorbo they adore and one they viciously hate; every meta post will be skewed in favor of their fave but they will never admit that

posts great reading lists 👍

doesn't read comics/doesn't ship batcest:

thinks bats are a nuclear family

“bad dad bruce is ooc actually 🥺”

says “dc stands for disregard canon” but doesn’t know enough about canon to even begin disregarding it

loves wfa

the most godawful headcanons known to mankind

the most popular fics on ao3 are written by them

has one batboy that they woobify to the extreme

onyx? harold? jean-paul? who are you talking about?

overlooks female and non-white bat characters most of the time

includes non-bat characters (wally, roy, kon, jon, slade) only so they can ship them with their favorite batboy

a beginning stage for a lot of people entering the fandom

reads comics/ships batcest:

a rare category

every serious analysis of a complicated canon relationship will be filtered through shipping goggles; sees subtext and coding where there’s none

blocked by half of the fandom for shipping batcest, blocked by the other half for complaining about fanon too much

has to be very careful not to say anything weird when talking about dc comics with strangers (especially irl)

often thinks they are better because they aren’t antis AND they read comics

dislikes wfa on principle but appreciates it for the ship fodder

will know a lot more about one half of the ship and mostly focus on them, often to the detriment of the other character being shipped

writes some of the best fanfics in the whole fandom ❤️

doesn't read comics/ships batcest:

migratory slash fandom

ships mostly male bat characters, might rarely post a ship with a female character for diversity’s sake

the most godawful headcanons known to mankind but at least they are horny

flanderizes complex canon relationships so they can fit the generic ship dynamics (grumpy x sunshine, buff jock x twink nerd)

a lot of them are lurkers

the ones that aren’t lurkers post heaps of batcest fanfics and fanart (thank you 🙏)

casual wfa reader]

[primeofprimes115]

A Long Awaited Dance - (Bombshell) Supergirl x Male Reader

Note: Fluff 🥰

Based from the DC Bombshells Universe - Earth-24

Second of September 1945... The War had officially ended on all fronts, while the war between Germany and Britain ended in May fourth of the same year... The war on the rest of the countries officially ended on the second of September.

The Bombshells played a big part on the front, starting from 1940 during the war, the Bombshells were created and put together by Amanda Waller, an expert pilot, leader and the best at military protocol.

The Bombshells went all around the world at each time, Wonder Woman went to Berlin to make the Reich surrender, with all the events that transpired before hand, the world being invaded by strange forces on that other hand, it was all stopped in the end.

Though it came with a cost of Power Girl's and Superman's life, cloned from Supergirl's DNA in 1942, their sacrifices brought a victory that brought peace finally after six years. A victory sweeter than strawberries.

Kara Starikov had lost a lot during this war, Kortni; her sister, her family, and deemed a traitor by her own country; Soviet Russia. She vowed to protect the Motherland regardless, a promise she still kept when it was attacked eventually, she was raised in Soviet Russia, she grieved the loss of Power Girl and Superman but their memory would live on through her, she vowed it so.

Her sister Kortni aka Stargirl had sacrificed herself in 1941 within London, Britain where the bombings were taking place, a creature of pure power had threatened the entire city and world, the Bombshells soon responded to this threat. Kara wanted to sacrifice herself after she thought she was a danger to the world were she still alive, now deemed a traitor to Soviet Russia, her homeland, the only home and country she grew up in.

She knew she was special, her parents told her she came from the stars one night, within a strange mechanism like vehicle, she was their biological daughter, but they were her parents, they raised her alongside Kortni.

Returning from Russia, she flew all the way back to the US, to meet someone she had fallen in love with back in 1942, a special unit soldier that took unprecedented risks in his missions against the Axis Powers, a young man who travelled far and wide to assist the Allies, his name was Y/N L/N, his father served in WWII as a Sergeant, who unfortunately died in 1944 during the Allied Retaking of France, months after D-Day.

Kara was there for him when he grieved for the loss of his father, as he did when she lost her parents in 1942, during a altercation which they sacrificed their lives with the help of Swamp Thing to contain a threat that is still contained to this day, the Bombshells would answer to this Doomsday aka Faora-Ul if she were to escape one day and finish what was started in Leningrad.

Y/N was injured in March 6th, 1945, when a covert mission went wrong, resulted in him getting caught and captured by the Reich.

When word got out of Y/N's mission gone wrong, Supergirl went out of jurisdiction to find and bring the love of her life back from the front, alive. Flying out with a blaze of fury and determination to rescue him from the Germans, before eventually finding him, dismantling the Germans that had captured and tortured him for information, Y/N had bruises, cuts and had dried up blood all over him. He was malnourished too.

He remembered being relieved when Kara came to rescue him, she hadn't killed the Germans holding him prisoner but he swore she might've, based on how in bad shape he was, it was surprising he hadn't broke just yet. All he heard was shouting, shooting and screaming, Germans being thrown and punched while bullets bounced off her.

He remembered looking into the dark, seeing a pair of red glowing eyes approaching him before shutting off, returning to normal once Supergirl came into view, her red cape-like-scarf bundled-in-two flowing behind her like her skirt as she rushed up to him. Her soothing worried voice soon cutting him free and flying him out that day... All the way back to the US where he could be treated for his injuries.

He mumbled one word that day during the flight back to his country for medical care. And again said it once he awoke on the date, eighth of July, 1945 after being in a coma for months. Kara would make frequent visits to check on him and tell him about everything that was going on.

"Printessa" a word in Russian which meant Princess to her, it was a word he'd usually call her, other than "Solnyshko" for when they first met. Y/N was fluent in Russian and a few other languages, useful for infiltration and so fourth. The moment was tear-jerking for her, hearing his first word after being in a coma for months, his eyes had began to open following this while she hugged and cried happily in his shoulder, all that happened next was her sleeping with her head resting on his chest in the medical bay.

As of currently however, Supergirl flown herself back to see Y/N, the young man she fell in love with back in 1942. It had been a day since the war ended, Y/N was almost back to full health but still recovering, he wasn't clear for field work during the final days of the war like he hoped he would, which was nothing but unfortunate for himself.

In the home he was driven back to, his mother's home, Y/N sat on the chair, writing a letter to his friends who were still in the army, a newspaper on the table beside him, the big obvious title claiming that "THE WAR IS OVER", published from the Daily Planet in Metropolis.

Kara Starikov, Supergirl, thought about potentially being Metropolis's protector, it was a mere mention that sprang across his mind once his eyes laid upon the newspaper that was labelled by the Daily Planet. She had been thinking very hard about it since then, knowing she can't ever fully return to Soviet Russia, to Moscow, but she'd protect it as a watchful angel.

Soon enough after placing down his fountain pen and finishing writing the letter, he looked out to his window to see Supergirl landing just a few steps away from the door, before her eyes drifted to the window itself.

A big toothy smile grew upon her face while his came out as a smirk, she soon approached the door and knocked on it, knowing Y/N's mother was inside.

Kara couldn't keep her eyes off him after knocking on the door gently, the wind picking up her long, wavy blonde hair, the double sided scarf that acted as a cape billowing behind her along with her skirt, her big teething smile teasing him through the window.

Y/N couldn't either, her smile always seemed to distract him, let alone her face and beauty, she was the prettiest girl he had ever met, he hadn't known how pretty Russian girls really were until his eyes fell upon her in 1942, when he was given orders by the British to eliminate Dr. Hugo Strange who was in Leningrad at the time.

He ran into a few misfits during his mission, most notably Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Reaper aka Andrea Gruenwald and a Newspaper Girl named Eloisa Lane aka Lois Lane for short, who worked for the Daily Planet.

It turned out that Reaper wanted revenge on Hugo Strange for what he's done to her and Y/N's covert mission was to kill Strange, so the two worked together, with Lois tagging along, though Y/N had tried to convince her not to come with, since she was a civilian, however... Lois was pretty helpful and smart, convincing him to allow her to tag along... For now,

Eventually, he'd meet Kara Starikov aka Supergirl after he sabotaged Strange's security with Reaper's help, with Kara convincing Power Girl to turn against Strange, rescuing Steve Trevor next who was also captured besides Kara.

At a moments notice? When Y/N made himself known with helping Lois Lane out of the hidden window within the wall they climbed through, mentioning they were responsible for the power shortage in Strange's security. 

He fell in love...

Butterflies went through his stomach at a moments notice of her making eye contact with him, he felt his face heat up in that moment, he had heard about the Soviet's having a 'Superweapon' to be used for the War... But he didn't expect it to be a person, let alone... A beautiful young woman.

Y/N solely remembered that day... Where his life soon changed forever afterwards.

______________________________________________________________

[Flashback |Soviet Russia, Leningrad, 1942 | Strange's Laboratory]

"I.. Wow... Uh" Y/N looked at her speechless, while helping Lois out of the hidden window in the wall, noticing him looking at the 'Superweapon'. "Well... Originally we weren't meant to rescue you, I had no idea the weapon would be... A you" he rubbed the back of his neck, Lois helped Andrea out from the window in response, smirking away at the covert soldier's awkwardness. "I suppose it was a change of plans".

Y/N soon applauded the young woman's words toward the clone she was fighting, the things she made her realize, the woman soon softly smiled in his direction as he approached her, standing just slightly taller than her

"I'm... Uh..." Y/N found himself hesitant to even say his own name, though he went under the alias; Cobra, his name was mostly classified amongst all military personnel, knowing this... 'Superweapon' came from the Soviet Union, he felt... Sick about the fact the Soviets were wanting to use this young woman as a weapon due to her power.

"Have you forgotten your name?" the young woman giggled softly, still keeping her eyes on him, a light tint of pink rushed across his cheeks as he laughed softly. Steve Trevor took notice of this and stayed back for now, watching as this went down.

"No, no. It's Y/N... Y/N L/N" he brought his hand out and soon... She took it to shake it.

"And my name is Kara Starikov" she announced to him in her Russian accent, smiling at him as she shook his hand gently and respectively.

"But they call her..." Steve Trevor stepped into the conversation. "'Supergirl'" he announced to him, Kara still couldn't keep her eyes off him as he did the same, her warm smile taking shape as she blinked softly and slowly.

"Supergirl?" he questioned, a tinted smile appearing on the young man's face towards Kara.

"The Motherland originally called me that" her Russian nature explained it all, making him nod at her answer.

Y/N soon thought to himself, liking the name they had for her, though she admitted she never came up with the name. It was Russia that named her that "So... You're apart of the Bombshells, right? I heard about that group making a lot of moves recently, helping out with the war effort".

"{Yes}, I'm apart of the Bombshells, I defected the Communist Party, along with..." pain arose in her voice, before Power Girl came crashing in, ending the conversation... For now that was.

________________________________________________________________________________

[Present Day | US, West Virginia, 1945 | L/N American Household]

Y/N daydreamed on that day of being carried out by Kara when they first met, after she was able to fly again, dealing with the fact she lost her sister and as much as it pained her, she pushed on... In Kortni's name and love. Eventually telling him of the loss she recently suffered, about the fact the Communist Party deemed her a traitor since she wouldn't kill innocent lives in the name of the Soviet Union.

She felt her country was corrupt, she may love Russia as a country, but not the people in charge.

Soon enough, he could hear the front door opening with Kara joining her hands together in front of her.

"Hello Mrs. L/N, I... I'm here to see your son, Y/N" she hadn't met his mother yet, but he could see she was being awkward a little, not expecting to meet his mother without a proper introduction.

"Oh, you're the girl he told me about. Come in, come in!" his mother invited her in, happy to finally meet her. "Y/N!! Your woman is here!" the older woman shouted for her son in her London accent. As much as it felt embarrassing to hear her tell him about Kara's arrival. He felt his face heating up with embarrassment from the announcement alone.

His mother was told about Kara Starikov after he came home, though he was supposed to come back to check on her the year father was killed in the line of duty, they had grieved their loses after he came home to recover from being off the field.

"Might I say that you look absolutely gorgeous, young woman. My son must be lucky to have met you" Helen L/N's voice bloomed through the house, with the door in Y/N's room slightly opened, the music playing on his phonograph at a lower level as he was writing earlier.

"Oh, [thank you], but I thought I was lucky to have met him?" Kara replied, Helen looked at her funny however, not knowing what word she meant earlier as Kara realized what she said. "Oh, sorry! My mistake on that part, I-I said thank you in Russian. I'm sure he told you I was raised in the Motherland" her voice was closer to the door than it was earlier after being invited in.

"The Russian accent says it all, it's okay, Ms. Starikov" Helen nodded with a smile. "He's in there, writing. I'm sure he probably expected you".

"Oh, I'm sure he does" the Russian Bombshell smirked before Helen walked off back into the living room, to continue knitting. Kara on the other hand soon pushed the door open, seeing Y/N already stood up and his eyes falling on her.

"Kara, my Printessa" he smiled brightly, calling her by his many nicknames for her. the Bombshell that had rescued him on multiple occasions, especially the one where he was on the verge of death months back.

"Dorogoy!" a nickname (means Sweetheart in English) she'd call him time to time, she sped into his arms and planted her lips on his, with papers flying all about from his desk after she super sped up to him with a hug and kiss in mind.

Soon his arms wrapped around her waist as hers sprang around his upper back, her sleeve-gloved hands feeling and stroking the back of his head, her fingers running against his hair as he brings his arms up to her curly, long, blonde hair that drove down behind her and parted to the right hand side of her face, where his hands now felt the curls of her hair as their kiss continued.

"Mmm" a soft moan escaped Supergirl's throat after she felt Y/N tapped where her skin was showing from the shoulders and upper back twice, since she wore a corset for her overall attire as she's been wearing since 1940. "I missed you" her Russian accent whispered softly to him, an accent he missed hearing from the last few weeks since she last came to visit, now within the home where he mostly grew up in after moving her when he was young.

"So did I, Supergirl... So did I" he smiled as their foreheads gently collided, with their smiles brighter as the sun shining in the morning. "I heard the war is over, we won" Y/N soon brought up, Kara nodded with a hum before kissing him again for a few seconds, then both parties looked toward the newspaper lying on the floor, no thanks to Kara super speeding into the man's arms.

Kara unwrapped her arms from Y/N as he did the same, the Bombshell knelt down and picked up the newspaper with a 'oops' expression on her face, noticing the papers that had been flown around the place. Soon placing the newspaper on the table Y/N was working on earlier.

"I think I caused this?" she made it known to him as he chuckled about it, seeing the expression on her face.

"It's alright, Kara" he grabbed her by the hand gently with a consoling touch. "It's adorable when you... Do that fast speeding thing" he looked into her eyes, smiling right at her.

"If you say so" she batted her eyes toward him before floating off the ground to be a little taller than him, making him look up at her just a little which made him chuckle.

"For some reason my dear? I like it when you do that" he smiled right up at her before being pulled into a loving kiss that lasted for as long as he could take it, tapping her shoulder lightly when he needed some air after their lips continued to smack softly off each other for a minute.

"And for some reason, my Sakharok" the Bombshell pulled her lips back from his just slightly, whispering to him. "I knew you did, you would've said something already if you hadn't liked it" Kara's English sounded so surprisingly perfect still, for someone who was raised in Russia, she sure knew how to speak English fluently, even when she met him for the first time in 1942, though she's spoken English before hand, she was a quick learner.

Only Russian thing there when speaking English was her Russian accent, which Y/N found attractive at best. The two continued locking eyes as Y/N attentionally rocked side to side slightly to the sound of the music playing on the phonograph, the volume lowered down still. 

"I... Heard what happened, the invaders and all that" Y/N then brought up after the two exchanged looks and smiles. The Kryptonian woman's expression soon turned serious a little, knowing what he was going to ask.

"Did-"

"They died..." Kara interrupted abruptly, as Y/N's expression soon turned into shock.

"Kara..." he called her by name, as she looked away in a little bit of pain. "Power Girl and...".

"[Yes, they did]" she answered in Russian. "I brought their bodies back from space. Before she left, she told me not to grieve much, it was hers and Kal-El's choice, they did it for the Motherland" she then continued with her word, before thinking to herself, wanting to correct herself from what she said. "No, for the world, for Earth... For us".

"They were... A good bunch of people, great in the Circus as well" he noted, and Kara hummed in agreement.

"I'm going to miss their acts" Supergirl slightly smiled, looking into Y/N's eyes next before her boots made contact with the ground. "Their memory will live through me, as does Kortni's and my family's" she smiled at that fact.

"And mine? When my time eventually comes?" Y/N smirked as the Russian Bombshell looked at him with a frown.

"Don't say that you {Idiot!}" Supergirl pouted as Y/N smiled and laughed softly. "I don't get your humor sometimes, that's something very serious".

"Oh you're so pretty when you're all serious" he flirted. "It's such a gas" he smiled soon after again, making her roll her eyes and smiling back at him.

"And your mother said you were lucky to have me, I think I now see why" Kara soon replied, not thinking twice to break eye contact.

"I heard, and she's right in a way" Y/N nodded, agreeing with that statement. "I'm extremely lucky to have you, you've saved me plenty of times, helped me, rescued me months ago, and in return I've done the same. I'm lucky to have met a woman like you, and even luckier to be romantically involved with you for the last three years since we met. On that topic..." he stopped for a moment to smile at himself, it's been three years since they've been in a relationship. "I love you, Kara Starikov, Supergirl" 

"I love you too, Y/N L/N, {Cobra}" she said back to him with a teething smile, before the next song played on the Phonograph while the two kept their smiles toward each other and their hands intertwined. The fabric of Kara's sleeved-gloves caressing his hands gently and soothingly.

A jazz type of song, one that a dance worked best with, a song that felt perfect for the two of them, at least that's what Y/N thought soon as it came on. He began to rock side to side again slightly, with Kara taking notice again, laughing softly at his movements as Kara let go of his hands so he could walk over to the phonograph.

The young man decided to turn up the volume a little, so it's at a optimal sound, enough to hear it properly.

"Remember when I promised you a dance?" he asked her, turning around to face her while leaning on the table where the phonograph was. 

"Two years ago" she remembered. "I remember clear as day" she began to smile, she had the idea of dancing, the time she was dancing at the Ball Event in the train from Istanbul to Leningrad back in 1942 with Steve Trevor.

"Well... Since the war is over... And I'm able to move again..." he began to smirk. Hinting at the promise he gave her in 1943, which they never got the chance to do so. "May I have this dance?" he asked politely with Kara outstretching her arms and hands out to him.

"I'd be happy to dance with you!" she smiled, her hands out, reaching for his. She had waited so long to hear him ask the question. "I've been wondering when you'd ask" she exclaimed, laughing softly at him as he approached and took both her hands.

The next thing, she brought him toward her completely in a space where they could move more freely in his room, embracing one another with Kara's left arm wrapped around his back, the other holding his hand, his fingers intertwined with her sleeved-gloves that were fingerless.

Y/N's arm wrapped around her waist while the other was around her back, his fingers locked with her own other hand. The Supergirl and the Cobra slowly dancing to the rhythm of the music.

"How long I've waited for this" Y/N cooed to his lover, seeing a big smile grow on her face soon after he whispered to her, their eyes blinking slowly with a love behind it.

"All you had to do was ask, and I waited patiently... For you" she whispered back, her Russian thick Russian accent making her sound more attractive by the minute, every time he heard her speak, it was like he fell in love all over and over again, especially when she whispered.

Silence fell between them as they danced in the one spot slowly to the rhythm of the song, their eyes locked onto each other as they found themselves lost in their worlds together, a kiss soon followed up with it deepening like that one night back in 1944 when the two done the deed on a quiet night after seeing each other once again. Kara remembered that moment very well, the night she lost her virginity, and she felt good after it.

And so did Y/N...

"And who thought an American and a Russian couldn't go well together?" he whispered back to her, making her lightly giggle at his question. Her ocean like eyes not daring to look away from his eyes.

"That's such a stupid question" she giggled a little more as Y/N then twirled her around, spinning her in a slow, smooth moment. Kara began to delight herself in this dance with the woman in the song singing. Let alone... Delighting herself more with Y/N taking the lead. 

"Yeah, I guess it is" he rolled his eyes playfully, spinning her around again in the same smooth manner, slow and gentle, Kara's scarf-like-cape and skirt billowed around with the smooth turn as Y/N caught her next.

Supergirl then began to smirk, intertwining her hand with his free hand once again and pulled him close to her body with a little kiss on his lips. The little kiss ended with Y/N giving Kara a surprised look before he smiled. Impressed by the sudden move.

"Good move, very romantic".

"That was good?"

"Yeah, it was a good move, the kiss made it way better" he praised her again.

Kara's blue eyes glistened toward his, like the ocean on a beach, swaying and moving. Her smile bright as the sun, her face prettier than a garden of flowers, her hair that would wave like a golden cape, she was perfect in his eyes. Though she'd highly disagree on that.

The music had drawn the attention of Helen L/N, wondering why the sudden music being turned up earlier, only to see both her son and his woman, Kara Starikov, Supergirl, dancing slowly.

Helen soon smiled at the two through the gap in the door after Kara slightly closed it earlier after entering, Helen wished Y/N's dad were still here to see this, Y/N had his father's looks after all, him dancing with Kara.

The older woman soon left the two alone without interruption, letting them delight in the dance as Y/N thought of something to talk about while their dance continued.

"Y'know... I do wonder what's next in store for us, what's next for us in the future" he brought up to her attention. "I've always wondered about it".

"I don't know, but whatever it is... We'll face it together" she said with a smile.

"Aren't you... Kinda scared?" he asks her with a curious look.

"I mean, it's okay to be scared, you never know what's going to happen" she said wisely. "Steve told me that... Before he...".

Y/N nodded his head, knowing what happened to Steve Trevor, how he died a hero. It was a hard-struck blow to the Allies and Bombshells alike.

"Yeah... I get where you're coming from" he smiled through the pain of loss, Steve Trevor was a good soul, a wise man, one that would be honored as time goes by. "A lot of good people gone, price of war".

"How long do you think that will last?" Kara brought up. "The Great War was only... Twenty-seven years ago, I came to know about the Great War when I learned how the Motherland is today, how it was born" Kara expressed her worries, showing concern for the world itself. "How long until peace is no more?".

"I... Don't think we should worry about that right now" he expressed, freeing his hand from her to caress her face, feeling how soft it was. "Whatever happens, my dear Solnyshko, I will always stick by your side, no matter what happens, nothing is going to tear us apart from each other" he vowed, soon making her smile softly once again.

"{Good}" she said in Russian, before pulling her face closer to his. "As long as we're together" she whispered in his ear, giving him a little wink after pulling back. Their dancing continued slowly with the rhythm.

"On that note..." he spun her around slowly and smoothly again, catching her before spinning her around, she stepped in and lightly pressed herself against his body, dancing to the song slowly with a delighted demeanor. "You still thinking on returning to Moscow?" he asked a good question, one he's still waiting for her answer on as she thought about it.

"Yes... I think it could be for the best... For now at least, but... I don't know if..." she was about to mention the tension between the US and USSR that could happen, regarding the end of the war, she had overheard talks about it all with her super hearing.

A part of herself did not want to be propaganda again, or to be used as a weapon against anyone for that matter alone, she still hasn't forgotten what the Russian leadership tried to make her and Kortni do to innocent Russians back in 1940, leading to them fleeing the country with their mother but failed to rescue their father in time, since he got captured and placed into the Gulag afterwards, 

But again... Russia was her country, it was her homeland, perhaps she could be a watchful angel over Russia, protecting it from any form of criminals or something else entirely, to keep the citizens safe.

"If something were to happen... Then... They'd want to use me as a weapon like they tried to do to me and Kortni, they could even-".

"If it does happen, Kara? We can just... Leave" he interrupted her, trying to keep her from worrying too much. "We don't have to get involved... Unless it's a very, very serious matter, like another destructive war from happening" he then made a mental note to himself and her.

"Maybe..." she said with a worried look still. "But run or fly away again?" she asked.

"I know it sounds... Discreet and dumb, I get that. But... I want to build a life with you also, it's an idea to have backups if things turn... Sour, if you understand what I mean" Kara soon nodded her head, turning slowly and rocking side to side with him slowly as they danced in the one spot together.

The Supergirl then began to smile at one part she picked out from Y/N's wording. That he wants to build a life with her, and in her vision? So did she, she wanted this to happen, she was the first to kiss him after all back in December of 1942

"I also want to build a life with you too" she drew her face closer to his once more, batting her eyes toward him. "I remember Faora mentioning something about the crystal necklace I came to Earth with, mentioning it would do something incredible when it contacted ice, like the ice in the North Pole, the Arctic you called it" Kara brought up a previous encounter with Faora back in 1942 before she turned herself into Doomsday, a hybrid at least. "I've always wondered what it would do".

"Hmm" the Cobra hummed a thought, thinking of a potential idea what they could do together, to discover if what Faora said was true back in 42. "How about we discover that... Tomorrow? You and I" he offered as she smiled funnily.

"I thought you weren't cleared for duty?" she asked with a curious smile.

"Who says I need to be cleared for duty? It's not like we're going on a covert mission, right?" the pair still rocked side to side, slowly turning in the same spot still as Y/N's question repeated in Kara's head as she thought for the minute, her eyes off of him to think so she couldn't get too distracted.

"{You're right}" she smiles after thinking, taking up on his offer. "On one condition" she locked eyes with him next.

"What would that be, my dear?" he smirked.

"Can I stay over? It's... Been a while since I last awakened beside you... In a more comfortable spot" she eyed the bed for a moment's notice before looking back at him.

"I'm sure my mother would be fine with that, I'll ask her, highly doubt she'd say no, think she already likes you" he nodded in agreement with a smile still on his face. "But... Let's enjoy the dance, I've been wanting this for a long time".

"I agree" she nodded. Before kissing him softly, her lips were soft like a cushion, pressing against his gently, with Y/N deepening the kiss by melting into her lips, the soft, smacking sounds overlapped by the music still playing as they slowly danced.

"I love you, Kara Starikov" Y/N pulled back slightly to communicate, both smiling softly.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N".

🎵 It's Been a Long, Long Time...🎵

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 5434

[blackreaderfics]

Checking In | Dick Grayson x Black!BatsisReader

↳ Pairing : Dick Grayson x Black!AFAB!BatsisReader

↳ Rating :  E (18+ minors dni‼️)

↳ Summary : After your brother Jason’s death, Dick Grayson keeps “checking in” on you. But as far as you’re concerned, he no longer has any right to be a part your life.

↳ W.C : ~5.2k

↳ Tags+Warnings : faux incest - step siblings (direct mentions), mild angst, hate(?)to love, sexual tension, not Titans DC!verse I just like the actor lol, canon divergence: set after Jason Todd’s death and before Red Hood, reader is a model (body type unspecified), referenced stalking, oral (f receiving), P in V sex, degradation (slut, whore), implied daddy kink, porn with plot!, special guest appearance by Booster Gold

“Hot date tonight?” 

You felt your eyes roll back into your head at the sound of the male voice that trilled like a mosquito in your ear. Fucking hell, you muttered a curse under your breath. After your shift of late-night vigilante duties, you always seemed to forget to take out your in-ear receiver. 

What was that thing Alfred always told you about breathing exercises? You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to quell your irritation.  In. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3. 

“No action tonight, dick?” You rebutted. 

“I can hear when it’s a lowercase ‘D’, Y/N. ” Unlike yours, his voice betrayed no hostility, rather, he sounded quite amused.

You and Dick Grayson had never been close. In fact, you thought of him as more a stranger than a stepbrother. Bruce Wayne had adopted you into the family after Dick had already packed his bags and moved out of the manor to Blüdhaven. The only times you saw Dick was when somebody died and you had to attend the funeral. 

You didn’t grow up with him like you had Jason. And now that Jason was gone, it was suddenly like the golden “boy wonder” had been trying to squeeze himself into your life to make up for it. Ever since the detective had arrived in Gotham last week on “private business”— whatever, you didn’t want or care to know—he’d been “checking in” on you a bit too often.

“Are you making small talk ‘cuz you’re bored or are you just being annoying?”

“I’m in the middle of something actually.”

You stilled to listen closely, and now that he mentioned it, it did sound like he was in the middle of a fight. 

“Well, I would offer to help you but— ”you paused, wincing at what sounded like a man being punched in the gut. “—seems like you got it covered.”

“More than covered, sweetheart. Unlike what you’re wearing.” He made it sound like he was joking; though, the remark itself had bite.

“What?” What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“That dress. Seems a little much for a first date don’t you think?”

You heard a yelp of pain in the background. Dick probably had some guy’s arm twisted around. 

“How the fuck would you know what I’m wearing? Or that I’m going on a date?”

You eyed the room while putting on the other half of your earrings. The idea of privacy wasn’t exactly a thing at Wayne Manor. That was the whole reason you moved out and into your penthouse apartment in the city. 

If for some reason he had seen you, he would’ve seen your figure in a slinky black mini-dress. A tasteful, but still unapologetic show of legs, cocoa skin, and cleavage all in one. 

“That guy plastered you on a billboard in the middle of Gotham. So, y’know, doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. And relax, your comms was on. You ever notice that you talk to yourself? Like a lot.”

He was about to be talking to himself if he didn’t shut the fuck up soon.

Ok, breathe. In. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.

You were violently broken out of your breathing exercise when a screaming welp and cracking of bones sounded through the earpiece. 

Dick spoke again, slightly winded. “Bruce say you could wear that?”

“Yes, Dick. Actually, he’s the one that bought it for me,” You deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. Besides the fact that the old man would not give a flying fuck about your wardrobe, you were way too old to be slutshamed or worse, babysat.

“Now I know you’re fucking with me. He has way better taste than that.” You could hear the mirth in his voice; he was clearly just trying to banter with you.

“Oh like you would know anything about taste, Discowing.”

“…”

You got him there.

“Just make sure—”

“Good night, Richard.” You closed the line before he could give you another lecture and pocketed the listening device into your purse. 

You regarded yourself in the mirror one last time. It was a certified banger of an outfit, went quadruple platinum in all the clubs in Gotham’s nightlife scene. But that’s not where you were going tonight.

Feeling a little paranoid, you quickly scanned your apartment for any sign that you’d been bugged. Finding nothing, you shut the lights and locked the door behind you. Tonight you did have a date, with one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors at that. So you were going to look hot and that annoying buzzing in your ear was just going to have to deal with it.

A sleek Tesla was waiting for you at the curb in front of your apartment building. You gave a small wave to a handsome blonde-haired man leaning against the sports car.

Your date was Michael Carter, some hotshot tech CEO you’d never heard of before until his company, Goldstar Inc. blew up out of nowhere. From what you knew of him he wasn’t as famous or rich as your billionaire adoptive father, but what he lacked in influence, he made up for in boundless persistence.

For the past month and a half, he’d been courting you with bouquets of roses, designer shoes and handbags, and more recently a billboard of you in the middle of Times Square asking you out. The billboard was what made you finally go out with him, not particularly because you liked grandiose gestures from douchebags, but mostly so he could leave you alone.

When you approached Michael he let out an appreciative whistle, and you let him wrap his arms around you in greeting. He looked down at you, appraising you and probably getting an eyeful of your tits at the same time.

“You are an absolute knockout. Who’s the lucky guy?” He quipped, eliciting an eye roll from you. 

Yes, he was also very corny but you decided you liked that about him. You’d dated too many men before that reminded you of the men in your family, and this Michael character was a blonde spark of life, a welcomed change from all the brooding and the fucking bats.

“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“Oh, I don’t mind waiting. Got a lot of time on my hands.”

You smiled up at him, steadying yourself on his arms and feeling the muscle underneath your fingertips. You had to admit, even though he was corny he was complete eye candy. Built like a football player, dimples, pretty face…Yep, you were definitely going to fuck him tonight.

Your eye caught sight of something from over Michael’s shoulder. You shuddered; not because of the temperature—It was a warm enough summer night— but because you could feel that you were being watched. There was… a shadow… lurking on a nearby building.

Michael followed your line of sight to peer over at the dark, confused at where you were staring. 

“Something the matter, princess? You cold?” He rubbed some heat into the goosebumps pebbling your arm.

“N-no. It’s nothing. Sorry,” You shook your head, breaking away from him to climb into the passenger seat, swiftly shutting your door before he could offer to close it for you. He scrambled back to the driver’s seat, clearly caught off guard from your sudden change in demeanor.

“How about we—” Michael turned toward you, mouth open in mid-sentence.

“Drive.” You cut him off.

“Excuse me, what?” He blinked in confusion. 

“Now.” 

“A-alright.” He paused, perplexed, then quietly obeyed, gripping the steering wheel as he pulled away from the curb. 

You fished into your purse, opening your messaging app to type out DON’T FOLLOW before hitting send. You didn’t need to see the reply to confirm your suspicions you were being stalked, and you knew Dick Grayson well enough to know he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t. 

You frowned at the empty seat in front of you. You had already arrived at the restaurant and taken your orders, but your date had been taking a “business call” in the bathroom for over 20 minutes now. You were starting to think you had been ditched.

“This seat taken?” 

You looked up but instead of your date you were greeted by the sight of Dick Grayson in a crisp navy button-down rolled up at the sleeves. He looked like he could be a CEO in his own right, like the kind of CEOs people read in romance novels.

His forearms looked extremely capable, courtesy of his rigorous training; Broad shoulders and dense muscle made his shirt fit slightly too small. He cleaned up nice, a bit too nice since other women kept sneaking glances at your table. 

Dick was an undeniably handsome man, but you would never admit that to him. Instead you gave him a withering glare.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing but whatever it is, I didn’t ask.”

“So a guy can’t catch up with family after work now?” He sat down in front of you with a look feigning offense until it melted into a playful grin. He looked a bit too smug taking the spot of where your date would’ve been.

“You’re really shameless y’know that? You showing up and expecting me to just welcome you with open arms does not make you family.” You leaned back and crossed your arms. “What the hell did you do with Michael, Dick?”

“What did I do? What, you think I killed him? Like on some mobster Falcone shit?” 

“No, like on some Bruce Wayne shit. Real chip off the old block.” You scoffed. “I know you paid him off. It’s the same story with every other guy I’ve dated.”

He was silent as if mulling over whether or not to own up to the accusation.“I gave them an option and they took it,” he said simply as if there wasn't anything wrong with what he just confessed.

“And here I thought I was the problem.”

“Might be. If you keep choosing guys that’ll walk out on you at the whiff of a few bucks.”

“Fuck you, Dick.” You shot him two middle fingers and gathered your things to go. You weren’t gonna stay and hear this shit.

“They were all full of shit and you know it.”

“D-did anyone order the steak?” 

Dick broke his serious gaze from you and flashed a dimpled smile to ease the nervous waiter.

“We’ll take it to-go, thanks.”

You watched your 5th Uber request get denied and sighed. You really didn’t want to have to resort to getting the Wayne driver, but these were incredibly desperate times. Maybe if you faked being in danger, they could get to you fast enough to escape from Dick.

You were in the middle of dialing the number up when you felt something heavy across your back; The smell of leather, wood, and spice interrupted your thoughts. You didn’t refuse the warmth; it was welcome. Somehow it had gotten colder than you had originally accounted for.

“Really good thing I was here. Looks like someone needs a ride,” you felt Dick whisper into your ear. He gave your shoulders a playful squeeze and walked ahead of you to his car. You looked up just in time to see him, head turned and smirking back at you.

“Shut. Up. Just take me home,” You gritted out.

“Your chariot awaits.” He tipped an invisible top hat your direction, bowing theatrically as he opened the passenger door to his car. God he was annoying. You slipped past him, and kicked off your heels as soon as you hit the plush leather seat.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet. You weren’t surprised that he seemed to know exactly where you lived. Which, due to the nature of your job was to be expected. Bruce probably had you all chipped anyway, but you appreciated the illusion of privacy at the very least.

You turned your head to stare thoughtfully at his side profile as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the shift. It was oddly intimate to watch him from this perspective. Gotham City’s lights waxed and waned across his face as you passed through the night streets.

“What?” He seemed uncharacteristically conscious under your gaze. 

“So…you’re saying I need to date some sort of incorruptible and righteous superhero. That would be good enough for you, right? Someone that can’t be bought or bribed?”

He glanced at you brow furrowed before returning his attention to the road. “Wasn't saying that.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it Hal Jordan’s kinda cute.”

“Real classy, Y/N,” He said, visibly irritated now.

“What? What’s wrong with Hal?” You pressed, knowing you’d struck a nerve. Dick was terribly predictable and fun to annoy when he wasn’t busy annoying you.

“Uh I don’t know, maybe the fact that he’s Bruce’s friend?”

“Please, they’re barely friends. Coworkers at best.”  Since when was that an issue for the dude who hooked up with the commissioner’s daughter anyway? The hypocrisy was truly baffling.

“No.”

“Fine,” You pouted at him. “Everyone cares about money, Dick. It’s Gotham. And you don’t even live here anymore, so who else does that leave that money won’t sway? Alfred?”

He gave you a pointed silence, not in any more mood for the topic of conversation. “We’re here.”

You blinked, surprised. Sure enough, you were in the familiar surroundings of your parking garage. Maybe you’d been too busy staring at the cut of the older man’s jaw to notice you were already home.

“You’re not gonna walk me up? ‘Cuz If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were my personal bodyguard.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Cockblocker.” You muttered under your breath as you scuffed your heels back on. You shrugged out of his jacket and exited the car.

“Hey, wait! Keep the jacket on, it’s cold,” He called after you, but you only waved him off dismissively. You heard his car door slam shut and in a few strides, he was next to you again, draping the jacket over your shoulders.

He wordlessly joined you in the elevator, pushing the button to your floor like he'd been there before. At the door of your apartment, he passed along the plastic bag filled with restaurant takeout.

You briefly considered the raven haired man and then the takeout bag in your hand. “I’m probably gonna regret this, but…you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Dick shrugged, following after you into your apartment. 

You kicked off your heels and made a beeline to the kitchen. “Bathroom’s on the right. Just make yourself at home. I would give you a tour but, you probably already know your way around.”

“Thanks, but it’s the first time I’ve been in here, Y/N.” He replied drily, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I wouldn’t do that, ok?”

You only hummed, not really believing him. Dick Grayson wasn’t the type to lie, he was the type to withhold. 

You set down your bag on the kitchen table, reaching into the cupboard. “Wine?”

He jingled his car keys as an answer. 

“Ah. Right. ‘Protect and serve’ not ‘drink and drive’, got it.”

Dick seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the knickknacks on your shelf. You watched him pick up a few photo frames, inspect them closely for a bit and then carefully set them back In their places.

“You’re making my living room look like a crime scene, officer.” You chided strolling in closer. “What, are you gonna need a baggie for that evidence too?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, humored. “I didn’t know you liked photography is all.”

“Yea well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“I know enough.”

“Like what?”

He looked around the room and then settled on the books and magazines stacked on your coffee table. “You’re into fashion.”

“Well yea, I’m a model, Dick. Not exactly breaking news,” You scoffed. “You sure you’re a detective?”

He broke into a grin, the kind of grin that made the dimples in his cheeks deepen. It was like he genuinely liked when you made fun of him. “Well, I also know you also have terrible taste in men so…”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to get laid?”

“No, and I hope that never crosses my mind." He made a face like the very thought disturbed him. "Besides, you don’t want that.”

You chose to ignore the blatant patronizing. “Not a want; It’s a need. A biological one. Girls have those too y’know.”

“Ugh alright, can we change the subject now, please?” He wrinkled his nose, cheeks faintly flushed. It would’ve been so easy to tease him about how cute he looked blushing.

“You’re the one that brought it up.”

“I did not bring that up. I’m…just saying that I know you’re not that type of girl.”

“Not that type of—And what would that be?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“The one-night stand type. That’s not you.”

“How would you know what I am and what I’m not?” You retorted, agitation building. Getting date-ditched was one thing but getting mansplained to about your sex life was just the cherry on top of a shitty Saturday night.

“I know you,” He spoke slowly with an edge that confirmed your suspicions; The tone in his voice was backed by knowledge of your history—who you were before Bruce rescued you out of that hell and scrubbed your background clean.

“More like you’ve been stalking me. That’s not fair, Dick. You can look up all the data you want on me on that supercomputer but you don’t get to know me. It’s—it’s too late for that.”

You thought about Jason and how he was ripped away from you too soon. Tears fell faster than you could stop them. One second you were ok and the next, Dick had crossed the room to bring you into his arms. You fisted his shirt as you cried into his shoulder.

“You weren’t here. You left. You left us.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He comforted softly, tightening his arms around you.

“That’s not fair, Dick. It’s not fair.” You can’t remember the last time you cried this pathetically. He was rocking you gently now, whispering apologies in your ear.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m gonna make it right.” 

He gazed at you now, a sadness in his eyes. You wondered what exactly he meant by that. The only way to make it right was to bring Jason back. 

He gently held your face in his hands, thumbs swiping away stray tears. Years of training had calloused his fingers and you could feel them now against your cheeks.

“Let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

His soothing voice released flutters in your stomach—a bubbling concoction of fear, anticipation, and…something more. 

Inhale. 1. 2. 3.

Your breathing became shallow as he brought his head down, lips hesitant before yours. When you didn’t move away he brushed against you, softly first, waiting for permission until your eyes fluttered closed and you finally let him in.

Your cheeks burned. Something about kissing him made you embarrassed or maybe you were ashamed, like you knew you were doing something you shouldn’t.

You fumbled out of his jacket, now too hot, and pawed frantically at the buttons on his shirt. He kissed you with more passion, swallowing your moans as his hands shamelessly roamed your body, groping and grabbing handfuls of your ass. 

“Bedroom. My bedroom.” You said quickly between fraught kisses. If you hadn’t, he would’ve probably taken you right there on the sofa.

He nodded in agreement, picking you up with ease and swiftly treading to your room with you in tow. He set you on the bed and resumed where he left off until you were lying under him. That’s when you could feel him, all of him, pressing against you. 

“‘m gonna make you feel good.” 

Ripples of abs and lean muscle ground against you as he kissed down your neck. You gasped softly when his hand moved to rub you over the cloth of your panties.

“Wanna see you. Please, let me see you.”

He tugged the top of your dress down, undoing the clasp of your bra and revealing to him the peaks of your tawny nipples. You inhaled sharply, watching him take your breast into his mouth, eyes on you, as he licked and sucked.

You writhed under him, already overwhelmed by everything he was doing to you. He snaked his hand back into the front of your now-soaked panties, rubbing at first and then inserting a finger, then two until you were stretching around him.

“So wet for me, my pretty girl. Look at you milking my fingers in this slutty little dress. You were gonna let him do this to you, right? You were gonna let him finger your pussy too huh, baby?”

You whimpered his name, eyes wide as he continued to speak with his fingers squelching in and out of you. Normal, everyday Dick Grayson had the image of being a “nice guy”. He was probably that neighbor you’d ask to borrow sugar from; You would never expect to hear such dirty words coming from his mouth.

He hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and brought your hips to his face.

“Let me take care of you, huh? Let me take care of this pretty little cunt.”

You cursed softly, as he began to kiss and suck around your clit as he fingered you.

“Fuck,” He groaned, “You taste so good, baby.”

He lapped at your cunt, making lewd slurps and noises. When he removed his fingers, he replaced them with his tongue and the sensation made you squirm.

“Quit moving so much. Didn’t you say you wanted to get laid? Don’t you want me to eat you out?”

“Y-yes. I want—Mmhfuck.” You nodded, finally finding some semblance of language. The way he spoke down to you was so agonizingly frustrating. It reminded you how patronizing he'd been earlier that night, telling you to cover up and dictating your life for you.

“You haven’t been fucked in a while, huh?” He mocked. “That’s why you were gonna let some guy you met today fuck you—Such a fucking slut that’s why you wore that, right?”

You whined at his words, bucking to earn some more friction from him.

“Holy shit, you like that? You like when I call you a slut.” His smile grew as if he just made a huge discovery. “Yea, ‘course you like it. Should’ve spread your legs on that billboard that guy bought. Let Gotham see how much of a fucking whore you are.”

Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. You felt betrayed by the physical reaction you gave with how crudely he was speaking. He'd figured you out; You liked being treated like a cockdumb slut.

He planted a few more kisses on your thigh, unbuckling his pants with a free hand.

“Wait for me, babe. Touch yourself and wait for me like a good girl.”

You obeyed, rubbing at your throbbing mound to no avail. Your fingers didn’t feel as good as his did. 

He freed his cock from his underwear and you could see it now, leaking beads of precum from the tip, swollen and bobbing up against his well-defined stomach. Your mouth watered, you wanted to feel all of him on your tongue. But when you reached for him, he brought your fingers up to his mouth instead, sucking the pussy juices off your fingertips. He kissed your knuckles and returned your hand to you.

“Keep those pretty fingers busy, sweetheart.”

He stroked slowly, watching you tentatively squeeze one of your breasts, your other hand rubbing and dipping between your folds. 

“Fuck you’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned before he kneeled to position himself between your legs, aligning himself at your entrance.

“You just need a cock to fill you up, doesn’t matter which one, huh? That’s what you wanted, right?”

He rubbed himself against you, tip occasionally catching on a soft divot, but not fully being inserted inside.

“You’d even let your stepbrother fuck you, huh? That’s how much of a dirty little slut you are.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of humiliation, frustration, and desire. How could your body like it so much when he was being so vulgar, so mean?

“Please, I need—“ You panted, trying to push yourself onto his cock for release.

“Mmh? Speak up, princess. What do you need?” 

“F-fill me up. I need you to fill me up.” 

“Only good girls get filled up Y/N. But you’ve been talking back to me all day like a fucking brat. You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?

You nodded dumbly in agreement. He pushed inside you a little deeper, only to take it out again.

“P—lease, I’ll be good. Just—need you inside.”

If only the patients at Arkham Asylum could see you now. They’d probably grab front-row seats to see you pathetically begging for some cock. 

“You could barely take my fingers, princess. You sure it’ll fit?”

He was right. It was a tighter fit than you anticipated, but you could feel him now hot and pulsating as he stretched you out.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. C’mon you can take it.” He cooed, muttering curses to himself until he finally bottomed out, fully seated inside you.

You moaned, holding onto his forearms as he rutted in and out of you. You could see his length disappear and reappear with every thrust, gathering a ring of your cream around his base.

“How do you feel princess?” He grunted out, pace quickening. “How does it feel to have me balls deep inside that tight little cunt?”

“It. Feels. So. Goo—Ahmmhfuck.” You clenched around him, voice vibrating with every thrust.

“Fuck, you’re milking me, sweetheart.” He laughed, voice smug. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you. Fuck, you’re so fucking dirty. You been thinking about my cock filling you up huh? Being my personal fleshlight? It’s everything you ever dreamed of right?” 

You could tell he was enjoying this, enjoying degrading you as you laid helpless underneath him, your release depending entirely on him. It was infuriating that he had this much power over you, but the amount of pleasure he was currently giving you superseded your pride.

He pushed your thighs back as he went deeper into an unforgiving mating press, knees by your ears, not caring that you weren’t as flexible as he was. 

“Such a good girl taking my cock so well. Wanted this for so long. You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty. You feel so good; so good for me.”

He moaned into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your mouth and jaw.

“This pussy’s made for me. You’re made for me. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”

You felt his balls smack heavily against your ass as he continued to pound his fat cock into your sensitive cunt, reaching your G-spot.

“Whose is it, baby? Whose pussy is it? Please, baby. Say it’s mine. Just for me.”

“I-it’s yours. O-only. Yours.”  You gasped out, feeling a warmth blooming at the apex of your thighs as you came unraveled underneath him.

His length twitched as he unloaded thick ropes of cum inside you, some of it leaking out and down your ass as he thrusted deeper.

"That's right, take my cum. Take it, it's yours. It's all yours."

He continued to fuck his cum into you until your walls squeezed around him, coaxing out every last drop.

It was morning now and sunlight peeked out from between the gaps in your curtains. You grounded yourself back into your senses. Your satin pillowcase cooled your cheek, but there was an unfamiliar warmth pinning you down—an arm wrapped around your waist.

He was half-hard now, erection resting lightly against the plump of your ass. You could feel his chest rising and falling, warm against your back as he slept. Deep breaths in. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.

You liked the way you fit together, your soft curves snug against his hardened body.

You turned a little to try and meet his eyes but your stirring only prompted soft kisses at your shoulder, and a strong arm pulling you ever closer, willing you not to leave the bed.

“Good morning.” He said between nips and kisses, intertwining fingers in yours. “What do you want for breakfast, beautiful?”

“Hmm? You’re still here.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“‘m still here.” He mumbled against your neck. His morning voice became noticeably deeper when sleep still clung to it. 

“Not a one night stand type of guy?”

He chuckled softly, the contented sound losing itself in the groove of your shoulder. 

“Nope. More like one night and one morning stand.”

You smiled at the terrible joke but willed it away quickly before he could see it. 

“I saw that smile,” He accused.

“No, you didn’t.” You tried to smother the corners of your mouth downward again. “You know for someone so smart you say a lot of stupid shit.”

“Aww, you think I’m smart, babe?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he probably had the dumbest smile plastered on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. “You also realize you talk way too much right?”

“You weren’t saying that last night.” He palmed your breast, kneading it softly. “Got so turned on you were literally begging me to fuck you. You were all like ‘Please daddy, please fuck me.’”

“I did not say that shit, weirdo.”

“It was implied.” He simpered.

You couldn’t help it; you were giggling now too. “You are such a dumbass.”

“First I’m smart, now I’m a dumbass. Which one is it, hm?” 

“Hmm, let me see…Which one is the quiet one, again?”

“You wouldn’t like it if I was quiet, though.” His voice had a hint of challenge in it.

You pursed your lips. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“See? I know that filthy shit gets you going. Wanna test that theory, baby?” He murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. “See if you’ll call me daddy?"

Evidently he wasn’t the only one who got off to dirty talk. His cock was now fully hard and pressing against your ass.

He rolled on his stomach, pulling you closer to him by the thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed as he nuzzled into your sex, laving and sucking, deep blue eyes locked on you. His lips curled into a smile against you when you moaned and sighed with pleasure.

Dick pulled up briefly, pussy drunk, wearing his spit and your essence on his face like a badge of honor. He peppered a languid trail of drowsy kisses from your mouth and up your jaw as you spoke.

“Wha-what happened to breakfast?” Your question spilled out breathlessly from the way his mouth worked, a futile attempt at remaining coherent. Losing face now meant inflating his ego, especially if you proved his little “theory” a bit too quickly. 

“How about I eat you out first, then you let me fuck my cum down your throat later, yea?” 

His suggestive whisper sent a heavy wave of arousal straight to your heat. 

Fuck. 

Your bodies became a desperate tangle of limbs; your legs wrapped around his hips as you bucked up to grind against him, wanting—no, needing— him back inside you. Breakfast was definitely going to have to wait.

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

[nouearth]

Keep up the good work, on behalf of the all the male readers on the app WE APPRECIATE YOU💖💖💖

angst with bruce wayne x malereader, where reader and bruce end up fighting cause reader kills the target on a mission their on. And bruce ended up injuring reader badly and putting them in the hospital. Days later when reader is finally able recover bruce apologizes and they have make up sex.TOPBruce wayne x BOTTOMmale reader.

If you wanna add any kinks that's up to you...

hi, anon! even though i just started, i appreciate you for even taking interest in my blog! it means a lot!

as for you request, i finished! i did have to change a few things, like bruce injuring the other. it just felt too toxic, in my opinion, but i hope this satisfies you!

you're here.

pairing ; bruce wayne / batman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, batman. word count ; 3694. genre; angst & smut. rating ; m. warnings ; arguing, blood, description of wounds, fighting, head trauma, mention and depiction of death and trauma, pwp, rimming (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), spitting, unprotected sex, top!brucewayne, bottom!reader.

one—THWACK! two—THUMP! three—CRACK! four— CRUNCH. five—THUD. six—SPLAT.

you repeat the sounds in your head. there’s still a small chance that the culprit is still alive; a lie of hope that you convinced yourself of as you lie on the pavement exhausted, catching up to your staggered breath before moving again.

when you crawl back towards the man, the adrenaline wears off and a groan of pain draws from your dry throat. you hiss when the wet pavement bites back at the open wound in your hand, and again when it scrapes against your limp leg as you drag your body closer to the criminal. your body sustains even more unfound injuries, but the ringing in your ears cloud your thoughts—your curiosity.

sluggish in movement, you take the man’s pulse.

nothing.

you’re desperate and you attempt again.

no pulse.

again.

you repeat this cycle about five more times and you want to cry. as much as you despised the wanted criminal for taking the life of your parents in the past, the night wasn’t supposed to end with a death. if anything, you expected to be that very body that was devoid of life, anticipated it even. but the longer you stared into those eyes—eyes that gloated over your parent’s death, over the loss of many more lives—you realized they no longer haunted you.

nothing. those eyes hold nothing.

he’s nothing now.

two sprawled figures bask in the thundering rainstorm, yet only one can see, hear, touch, and feel.

you remember losing the fight, your head was clubbed with a bat. your arm and hand were slashed. your ankle was twisted over a clumsy mistake. and then you fell, calling for help multiple times through your earpiece. he climbed on top of you and large, calloused hands wrapped and squeezed around your throat, cutting the airflow between you and life. you did your best to fight him off, but it only fueled his strength as he devilishly laughed at your suffering—laughed at the likely possibility of escaping into hiding again, into killing again. you didn’t think it would happen, but it did.

you saw your entire life flash before your eyes as you struggled for air.

memories—great memories of your parents appeared in quick flashes as you had remembered them, treasuring you with all their love within those short ten years before their violent deaths. you even saw your boyfriend. for the little amount of times he smiled as the caped crusader, he made up for it as bruce wayne. you’ve doubted his love before and maybe he was a great liar, but those memories proved otherwise. you were loved. and now, you are still loved, and you didn’t want that taken away from you again. before you knew it, your hand desperately searched for whatever you could find around the surrounding area. a brick, you presumed.

and the rest was history.

you crawl away from the body and lie in the alleyway as you wait for bruce’s arrival, repeating your location through the earpiece. he grunts in response, gunshots echoing in the background. you assume he’s still fighting off the gang that interrupted the three of you earlier. it was the perfect distraction that led to the criminal’s escape—a chase that you’d quickly catch up to when bruce told you to go.

it’s not long after until your solitude is joined by the shadow of the night. a draft blows into the air when the caped crusader jumps from the ledge and into the alleyway, his black cape dragging along wet pavement as bruce heavily makes his way towards you. “you’re hurt.” he says with calmness, but your tearing eyes induce worry.

“where is he?” he bombards you with similar questions about the man and your condition, slight frustration in his tone when you’re unresponsive, but he scans your body of wounds out of worry—necessity, and communicates through his earpiece. “base, sending you my location. make sure a doctor is on standby at the medical center.”

the detective in him naturally has him study the surrounding area, walking in puddles of water, searching every corner, and treading farther away from you until he stops in his tracks.

a body, one that sported a familiar face. at least, what bruce could make of a face.

“he’s dead…” you weakly declare, watching him with guilt and a heavy heart. even with the cowl on, you can see bruce’s expression. you knew you had broken his rule—a key element of his moral code: no killing. that was all he asked. he trusted you as you had trusted him.

“what do you mean he’s dead?!” bruce’s voice is harsher upon your revelation, a disbelieving hoarseness crescendos. he squats, examining the body at a closer view, hoping to find a fault in your assessment. after testing his pulse numerous times, he turns his head to you like a predator in the night. “i told you from the beginning that-“

“listen, i can explain-“ you stared motionlessly straight ahead, shutting your eyes when you can hear his trust being broken.

“i told you from the very beginning that this was a bad idea.” bruce restarts, making a point to not interrupt him. he breathes out his words slowly, an obvious attempt to remain calm, and marches towards you. “this was why. if you would’ve just let me handled it-“

“it was in self de-“

“i get that you want justice—for your parents, for the victims, for people like you who had to suffer the consequence of his own sick pleasures.” his cape swallows his large body whole when he squats down, leveling eyes with you. a gaze pierces your own with bitter coldness and disappointment, and you smolder with indignation.

cowering your gaze, you watch his hands—shielded by gauntlets—expertly scout the medical kit hidden in his utility belt. “but no matter how heinous the crime is, no matter how much it keeps you up at night, you control yourself. “ he sprays his diluted mixture of alcohol onto your hand wound, sparing use for the other open injuries you’ve sustained. “you let the legal system—the public—handle bringing criminals to justice. we simply help them.”

a tear breaks free when the alcohol bites at your skin, and the rest followed in an unbroken stream. he’s right. you should’ve controlled yourself. the first two hits were sure to knock him out, but you kept going, and going, until the criminal stained your conscience with his final breath. “if… if i hadn’t, i would’ve died, bruce.” you whisper weakly, lips bitten back to hold in emerging hiccups. you knew you weren’t supposed to use his real name, but this was no longer a conversation between you and the creature of the night—but you and the light of your life.

“i-i couldn’t walk. i couldn’t escape. and i couldn’t breathe.” you swallow, catching your breath. “he had his hands around my neck and…i called for you, but i-I guess it never picked up and…” tears burn in your sinuses and your throat goes dry again, coughing out sobs as you recalled the persona of death itself looming over your suffering body.

he’s silent, occupying the loss of words by patching your remaining injuries up. in the absolute stillness of the world, bruce conjures up alternative scenarios where death wasn’t the ending to this dreadful night. even if he had come, your injuries were more severe than he thought, and you would’ve lost blood­—too much blood.

the world moves again as silence is shattered by a siren blaring proud. its flashing lights welcome your tears with comfort and when you turn back to look at bruce for the second time, he’s gone.

it’s hasn’t been long since you’ve returned to your apartment. after a month or so of recovering in the hospital, it was nice to return to your daily life. instead of rehabilitating your leg first thing in the morning, you’d cook yourself breakfast and watch the news, taking it easy for the next few weeks.

bruce would visit the hospital as much as he could, but you were too drugged out to have a proper conversation. since you came home, he’s been distant. you’ve spent more time with alfred and while you didn’t mind having the older gentleman around in the morning (and occasionally scold you for having such a disorganized place), you missed bruce. he would text and call in place of his absence but it wasn’t the same. you needed him.

“and right on cue…” you amuse yourself as a phone call from bruce rings, bringing you back to reality. “y’ello?”

“i’m coming over.” he bluntly states, an elevator dinging in the back. he must still be in his meeting this late at night.

“okay- should i order delivery or something?” you get up to quickly change out of your sweatpants and make yourself look presentable, but before you could, there’s a knock at your door and you beeline towards the entrance instead. “we haven’t tried that ethiopian place that just opened up yet.“

you swing the door open, anticipating your neighbor as they often shared dinner with you at this hour. “hey- oh.”

“hi.” bruce surprises you with a half-smile, raising up takeout of the place you were just describing. he enters tall in his form-fitting suit, tailored perfectly to the broad form of his body. for most of your relationship, you’ve mainly seen him dressed in leisure or as the masked vigilante. you were always taken aback by how extra handsome he would become when he was ‘bruce wayne, proud owner of wayne enterprises.’ today was no different.

you shoved your phone into your pocket and closed the door behind him. “y’know, usually when people say they’re coming over… they’re not already over.” you keep your spirits high as if your relationship hadn’t been affected by something as significant as death, taking the bag, you guide bruce to the dinner table.

a hug would’ve been a nice ‘welcome home’ gift. you think to yourself as you unpack the contents of the takeout boxes into separate bowls.

there’s an awkward silence as you do so. other than a few questions regarding your condition, bruce is quiet, eyeing you like a hawk, and you could feel his gaze from the corner of your eye. “did… you poison the food or something? why are you looking at me like that?” you humor the two of you to the best of your ability, but the only laugh that follows is your own.

“no. never. i would never do that.” though he knew you meant it in good fun, the thought of you in the hospital again—dying—awakens a sense of guilt inside of him again. “i’m sorry.”

puzzled, you look at him confused, brows furrowed in concentration of his words as you set utensils in front of him.

“for… not being there with you—for you.” guilt weighs his head down and he’s now staring into his lap, hands clasped together over the dining table. you watch silently in your chair, reaching out to blanket his hands with the warmth that you missed giving him. “i shouldn’t have told you to go after him. i could’ve escaped from the gang and gotten to you in time. i could’ve-“

“bruce, i don’t blame you. i never did.” a sigh escapes from your lips, your hand leaving his in favor of pulling your chair next to his. eventually you had to have this conversation and you wished it happened sooner. in an ideal scenario, it would’ve been in the hospital as you were recovering. “you know that, right? what’s happened, happened. i-i know you didn’t want me to, but i had no choice-”

“i could’ve lost you too.”

too, you repeat to yourself—his parents. a flash of remembrance is exchanged between the two of you when he looks up, eyes burned with red as he does his best to console his tears. it’s painful to see him like this, but all you can do is embrace him, suffocating your tears into his shoulder—his onto yours. “bruce…”

“but you didn’t.” pulling back, you place a gentle kiss on his lips and you both close your eyes after taking his hands into yours. “you didn’t.” you assure him, solacing the imagination of you gone from his destructive world with another kiss—harder—to remind him that you’re still here. “i’m here.”

“i didn’t,” he murmurs in between your lips before returning the kiss, continuing for longer. the positive affirmation possesses bruce to guide your body further into his in between switching locations to your bedroom, stumbling from the passionate exchange. “you’re here.” he holds you tighter as if the draft in your bedroom could take you away, only briefly pulling apart to undress in a hurry. the taller man kisses at your neck. bruce inhaling deeply into the scent of your skin that he long feared he’d forgotten while large deft hands roam your body, memorizing every hickey that he had left months prior. faded now, but he plans to renew them.

“careful.” bruce is observant, kicking the bag behind your feet to the side before he could lay you back onto the bed and press his bare body into yours again. “look at what you do to me.” he alludes to his hard cock, flushed against your own. you respond with eager hips, thrusting into the warmth that your bodies would share every time your cocks touched. you knew you could come right there if you looked, so you don’t. instead, you’re gazing into his eyes, pleasured by the way they would roll back as you two would connect thrusts in a desperate exchange. “one moment i’m crying over you, and the next…”

“i want to be fucking into you so bad.” his confession garners a genuine laugh out of you, and you lightly tug at bruce’s slicked-back hair, pulling only harder when his lips don’t detach from suckling on your neck the first time. the skin on your face and body is hot and you could feel your cock pulsate when he looks at you, lustful and desperate.

“then why aren’t you?” you tease in a whisper, your thumb gliding across his swollen lips before a lick stops your lone digit in its stride. bruce torments you with desire, maintaining eye contact as he sucks on the pad of your thumb, repeating the same process until he’s done the same for the rest of your fingers. “come on… slowpoke.”

satisfied that you’re now just as needy as him, he spreads you wide in midst of re-adjusting his position to kneel before you. his torso hunches over yours to leave wet and sloppy kisses over your pecs, staining your skin with additional licks as he works his way down. at times, his hand would leave your waist to stroke himself to the sound of your whimpers, but you’d stop him with a gentle squeeze to his wrist, reaching down to replace his hand with yours.

with your hand, you encircle his large cock with a loose wrist, sloppily spreading his pre-cum over your palm and you find yourself doing the same to your own erection. bruce watches you for a moment before pleasure possesses him to roll his head and shoulders back, basking in your skin-crawling touch and the sound of your moans. your mouth waters at the erotic view that towers over your body. the strong muscles in bruce’s thighs flex—harden—to maintain balance as he briefly bends over you to fetch the lube from your drawer. fuck. and his cock throbs—grows harder with your every stroke.

you’re brought closer when he rolls you onto your stomach, pulling you onto all fours and with a sweaty palm to your back, pushing your torso flat to the mattress and leaving your hips raised. large palms massage at your ass cheeks, spreading them open multiple times to admire the way you automatically tighten your ass when the cold draft clouds over your heated flesh. within seconds, your thighs tense when the air is replaced by a slow lick over your hole, drawing another soft moan out of you. “bruce, please… i need you. right now. stop-” you desperately plea, impatient for his sex. you’re unbearably hard right now, thick pre-cum leaking onto the sheets, but bruce didn’t care. he wants to admire you for as long as he can—admire every part of you with the wet muscle.

raw and intense noises of pleasure are driven out of you as he plunders you with his tongue. one hand leaves your ass cheeks to jerk himself off to your most glorious sounds, savoring the taste of your flesh with loud slurps and spitting inside of you once more, seemingly to mark you. he explores your insides with the intent to set off another heavenly moan that is music to his ears, practically drooling inside of you when he reaches from under to feel how hard you are—how much you’re dripping because of him. wrapping his hand around your erection, bruce strokes to the pace of his needy licks, diving nose-deep into your ass, inhaling and exhaling your delicious musk. “shit- bruce…“  you breathe into your pillow, sweat collecting at your headline as you’re embarrassingly writhing under his control. soon after, he replaces his tongue with his lubed finger, twisting into you with slow ease as he continues to lick at the ring of muscle, impressed by the firm grasp you have on him.

“god, i wish you could look at yourself right now.” he makes sure you’re used to his finger before suddenly pulling out, amusing himself with how your hole desperately clings to the loss of intrusion as you whine, tormented by his teasing. bruce returns inside of you with another finger, slowly working you in until he feels comfortable enough to twist and spread the two digits, repeating the taunting motion again that left your hole clenching and unclenching earlier. your eyes roll into the back of your head, rocking back into the steady rhythm of his thrusting fingers. “i can’t believe i have you all to myself…”

“fuck me, please…i need you.” the battle for your pleasure raged as you beg into the bedsheets, your body coiling tighter as your hole grasps at his fingers despite rolling your hips forward. “i need your cock, bruce. fuck.”

“since you were so patient with me…” butterflies flutter in the pit of your stomach as you feel a loss of fingers, anticipating it to be replaced with something bigger, thicker. he leans over with gratitude and tenderness, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and your body spirals when it does. you ball the loose fabric of your bedsheets into your palms when bruce’s thick cock slides right into you in one, long delicious move, and letting go to sprawl your fingers out when he pulls his hips back, his grunts ghosting your ear when he drives his cock back in.

bruce’s pair of hands sit at your hips as he slowly rocks you into his thrusts. each movement has you taking more and more of him until your ass is pressed against his pelvis, enveloping him, drawing him in, and at the same time, pushing him out. you feel full, filled when he burrows his cock deep inside of you, and you imagine he does too, his erection growing larger and harder as he fucks your heat with a steady rhythm. he kept on, slowing himself when he draws you back into him, onto a kneeling position, and quickening once again when you find balance within his strong embrace. your head lolls back on his shoulder as you stroke yourself to his franticness, driving himself into you harder to gut another delicious moan out of you—another animalistic groan out of him. your moans are caught in your throat when he slots his lips in between yours, only exhaling when bruce separates the tender flesh with his tongue to absorb that heavenly sound of yours like an addict.

when bruce is close to coming, he pulls out and lets himself cool, utilizing the brief cooldown period to minister your cock with quick strokes, lubing the throbbing muscle with his spit in between pumps.

then he starts again, guiding his cock with one hand and deliberately feeding your pucker with his pre-cum before pushing back inside of you again. falling forward from the force, you roll your hips back into him, crying out his name as you’re desperate for his cock. bruce fucks into you faster, harder, with no intention of stopping, palming at your cock at the most sensitive glans because he can feel you’re close. his grip on your hip is strong, bruising, as he uses all his strength to make you come. your stomach sinks and coils in anticipation of familiar feeling coming to a boil at the pit of your stomach, fucking yourself back into bruce’s cock and then into his palm as you’re hopeless under his touch. you can feel droplets of his sweat drip onto your back, the smell of your musk and his thickening the air with breath-taking fervor, and the taste of heaven and stars when you cry out again, coming undone within his fist.

“oh, fuck..!” bruce doesn’t stop jerking you off. he continues to milk you with a forceful grip, beating you off to rhythm of his thrusts—to the sound of sticky sweat-stained skin slapping into each other—until he finally feels himself come inside of you in long, trembling runs. one last thrust, and the head of his dick hits that sweet spot of yours.

he shudders into you, exhausted, collapsing forward and calling your name in tremulous breaths. you exhaustedly turn your head to catch his voice in between your lips, moaning and kissing into his parted mouth as warm cum leaks out of you in slow drips, streams rolling down your thighs and onto its way to stain your bedsheets.

“you’re here.”

“i’m here.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[prismuffin]

Masterlist 2:

Full Fanfic Masterlist

--

Marvel:

How Peter Parker and Steve Rogers react to their crush asking to play with their hair

Hobie Brown helping trans!male!Reader with dysphoria Hobie Brown reminding ftm!Reader not to overbind Hobie Brown turning into a cat and causing chaos in the SpiderSociety

How Miles Morales acts on a rooftop date with another hero Miles Morales reacting to grieving reader Miles Morales being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie Miles Morales reacting to his crush suddenly asking him out in the middle of a normal conversation Miles Morales with a younger!sister!reader

Platonic!Miguel O'Hara comforting transmale reader after a breakdown Miguel O'Hara reacting to reader coming out as trans (ftm)

Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader with brain issues Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader getting a good grade on an exam

Pavitr Prabhakar and german!male!Reader bonding by learning about each other's cultures

SpiderTeens reacting to gn reader adopting them all

Stranger Things:

Nothing yet!

The Umbrella Academy:

Nothing yet!

Criminal Minds:

Nothing yet!

Hitman Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

Mission: Impossible:

Ethan Hunt reacting to his son being a part of the syndicate

FarCry 5:

Nothing yet!

Valorant:

Nothing yet!

Detroit Become Human:

Connor helping male!trans!reader with testosterone shots Connor helping gn!Reader calm down from a panic attack Connor with a s/o who's a maladaptive daydreamer Connor with an insomniac s/o Connor with a s/o who's a wild/active sleeper

Our Life Beginnings & Always:

Nothing yet!

Error 143:

Nothing yet!

Sally Face:

Nothing yet!

WatchDogs Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

COD: Modern Warfare2:

John Price dealing with being a sleep talker

Konig reacting to short!male!Reader climbing him like a tree to see something Konig reacting to short!male!Reader being on his shoulders^^Part 2

Ghost, Konig, and Price (separate) reacting to male!Reader with dermatillomania Ghost and Konig (separate) reacting to having to cuddle up to male!Reader for warmth Ghost and Konig waking up to cuddling male!Reader ^^Part 2 Ghost and Konig (separate) having M!Reader be their gay awakening

The Imperfects:

Nothing yet!

Encanto:

Nothing yet!

Girl From Nowhere:

Nothing yet!

Metal Lords:

Nothing yet!

Dc Universe:

Batfam being jealous of the readers pet/animal Batboys reacting to Tim Drake's "bad-boy" boyfriend Taking care of Batboys (seperately) after they got their wisdom teeth removed Batboys reacting to boyfriend!Reader smacking their ass and running away Batboys + Conner & Wally being caught wearing masc!Readers hoodie Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son ^^Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son pt2^^ Batboys reacting to getting hard during training with M!Reader Anthro!Batboys having their ears and tail expose their romantic feelings for male!reader Batfam reacting to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon!male!reader BatBoys reacting to them thinking male!reader called them a goodboy

Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne accidentally falling for male!sugar-baby!reader Bruce Wayne with an energetic anti-hero husband

Conner Kent accidentally using X-ray vision on trans!male reader

Male!Justice League members reacting to rogue!reader moving out of Gotham and into their city

Jason Todd reacting to male reader falling asleep on him Jason Todd reacting to a gn reader who can't swim Injured!Jason Todd waking up to Reader in his hospital room

Damian Wayne with a child!brother!Reader Damian Wayne being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie

Dick Grayson reacting to a very cuddly male reader Dick Grayson waking up his cuddly guy crush Dick Grayson reacting to a sad!male!Reader needing cuddles

Hal Jordan's (Green Lantern) reaction to reader having a lot of lantern rings Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) x recovering!male!Readers Hal Jordan reacting to being bitten by masc!alien!Reader

John Constantine reacting to a food-pusher Reader John Constantine with a werewolf s/o (gn reader) Hungover!John Constantine waking up in a caring Readers bed John Constantine reacting to a male!Reader that reminds him of his younger self ^part 2. John Constantine reacting to similar!male!Reader reading his soul John Constantine being bullied by a cat in a pub John Constantine reacting to a Reader that smokes John Constantine having a demon!Reader be attached to him John Constantine reacting to reader being turned into a baby John Constantine reacting to male!Rader lighting his cigarette with John's

Kid Flash (Wally West) reacting to accidentally courting alien!reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a night owl boyfriend Kid Flash (Wally West) accidentally petting one of winged!male!Readers arousal zones Kid Flash (Wally West) and winged!male!Reader finally getting together Kid Flash (Wally West) cudding male!naga!Reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a partner who's part of the BatFamily

Tim Drake reacting to guy crush reader accidentally cuddling him Tim Drake reacting to Rogue!Reader flustering him Tim Drake with a caring and patient boyfriend Tim Drake with a boyfriend who's very physically affectionate

How Superman, Batman, Hal Jordan, The Flash, and John Constantine react to someone handing them the unconscious reader out of the blue How Batman and Superman reacting to their long-term partner being their worst enemy How Batman, Superman, Hal Jordan, and The Flash would react to gn magic user reader using a gun out of nowhere

How Wally West, John Constantine, Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson, and Conner Kent react to falling asleep on their crush (male reader) How Wally West, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Conner Kent taking care of their drunk guy crush How Dick Grayson, Wally West, Tim Drake and Conner Kent react to playing seven minutes in heaven with their guy crush How Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and John Constantine react to their crush asking to play with their hair How Tim Drake and Damian Wayne react to their crush randomly asking them out in the middle of a conversation (seperate) How Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Wally West and Conner Kent (sperately) react to Alien!Panther!Male!Reader cuddling up to them randomly

How Justice League boys react to empathic color!alien reader turning pink around them How Justice League boys react to male!Reader being turned into a cat How the Young Justice League reacts to a male!Reader with an Eating Disorder

—

Back to directory;

[pkg4mumtown]

Special Weapons and Tactics (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Teen (for now)

Summary: Checking up on the agent you carried out of a hostile situation is innocent, right? Right??

Content Warnings: Male!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, canon-typical violence, mostly fluff

A/N: Hiiiiii! Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first chapter, here is the second! I’m embedding the Spotify playlist I made for the fic, but due to the lack of dividers for you all to know what chapters I placed them in, I’ll let you know here. Feel free to listen to the whole playlist if you want, just know I’m still making continuous changes to it.

Chapter 1: The Man, Mad Sounds, Want You Bad, Take A Chance on Me Chapter 2: If I Wanted Someone, Neon Moon, Lovers Eyes, Want Want

Also available on AO3 - I do use a workskin on AO3 for text messaging, so I uploaded screenshots of the texts here. I know this isn’t what iOS looked like in 2010 but I didnt feel like learning a new workskin lol.

July 2010

I could practically feel his eyeroll through the phone.

Before I could ask for his order, he started typing again.

It felt stupid to send considering his team would probably bend over backwards for him, but I sent it anyway. He should know someone else was thinking about him, right?

—

Beyond the occasional checkup text on how he’d been feeling—I couldn’t help it—he was still on track to get back to work Wednesday morning. It was actually quite convenient for me as I had a medic course to teach at the academy that day.

Keeping a straight face around my team was nearly impossible as his daily updates came in, some of them even unprompted. That part was surprising given that at work, his demeanor seemingly left a lot to be desired.

When Wednesday morning arrived, I got up extra early to stop at a decent coffee place on the way into Quantico instead of whatever sludge passed for coffee and littered every corner of FBI Headquarters. The drive was maybe half an hour longer than I would have had going into the DC field office, so I had plenty of time to sweat over seeing Hotch after our brief texting over the last seven days. After stopping for our morning beverages closer to Quantico so nothing was cold and stale, I made my way into Headquarters armed with the carrier holding our two drinks, a box of coffee for the team, some random assorted pastries to win their hearts over, and my training materials (which were super important, of course).

The elevator dinged on what I hoped was the correct floor for the BAU. Stepping out, I spotted the team immediately and headed over to their group of desks in the bullpen.

“Good morning, I come bearing gifts,” I announced in front of their desks.

Prentiss and Reid had noticed my presence as I walked in, and they peered over their dividers until they were basically standing as I approached. At the sound of my voice, Morgan’s head perked up and he rushed over to greet me.

“What's all this?” He smiled, gesturing to my full arms.

“This is for you all,” I gently handed the box of pastries with the coffee box balancing precariously on top to Morgan. JJ and Emily looked surprised, and I watched their eyes flick back and forth at each other in some unspoken language.

“What’s the occasion?” Derek laughed after setting the boxes down on one of their desks.

“Just didn’t want to come here empty handed for y’all,” I shrugged. He reached for the carrier in my hand, but I swatted his hand away and moved the drink carrier out of reach. “This is for your boss, and speaking of him where can I find him?”

Reid, who hadn’t said a word the entire time, gestured behind me with his chin. He was definitely familiar, and I knew him from somewhere. Judging by the look in his eye, I wasn’t wrong. Reid gave me a knowing smile and it finally hit me that he frequented one of the same local bars that I do, making me instantly nervous given the potential for volatility in a government workplace. Hell, most of my SWAT teammates didn’t even know I was gay because of that overly macho, straight culture on the team. The only one here I was actually out to was Morgan, though by now, I was sure the room of profilers had figured it out. It was inevitable that Reid had seen me flirt with men at said bar but, by his nod and comforting smile, I was reassured that I was safe and in good company.

I turned and looked over my shoulder to where Reid had gestured and saw Hotch skimming through a file behind the window of his office.

Turning back to them, I raised the drink carrier, “Thanks.”

I spun on my heel and made my way up the stairs to his office.

“Well, that was weird,” Emily spoke up as soon as I was out of earshot. When no one replied, she turned around to face the team, “That was weird, right?”

“Nah, just checking up on Hotch, I’m sure. He’s a good dude like that,” Derek shrugged.

“I mean I’m not complaining. That polo was doing wonders for his arms,” she absentmindedly fanned herself with a file to exaggerate her point.

“You should ask him for his number and get his workout routine,” JJ teased.

“Please, Sergio is the only man I need in my life,” Emily laughed, causing the two of them to veer off in a separate conversation.

“You're being awfully quiet, pretty boy,” Morgan murmured suspiciously to Reid as the girls kept chatting.

“Am I?” the genius jokingly feigned ignorance.

Derek fixed a pointed glare at him, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“We frequent the same bar,” Reid clarified. “Obviously, I recognized him, but I didn’t think he would recognize me, too.”

Derek’s eyebrows had never flown faster up his face, “Have you fu—”

“—No! No, no, no,” Reid cuts him off hurriedly, glancing at the girls who were still talking amongst themselves. “I’m not his type,” Reid answered matter-of-factly with a smirk and directed Morgan's attention to Hotch's office with his eyes.

“Oh, I’m giving him hell over this,” Morgan shook his head and walked back to his desk.

“Over what?” Emily asked as her conversation with JJ ended.

“It seems like he has the number he’s looking for,” Reid answered cryptically and flicked open the box of pastries to hide the smile threatening his features.

—

I took my time on the stairs to gather my wits and my nerves, feeling absolutely ridiculous considering my profession. I knocked on his door frame with my free hand, seeing a pinched frown on his face as he quickly looked up. The tension in his forehead eased upon being greeted with my shy smile and I watched his brain fight his lips as they twitched upward.

After a beat of silence, Hotch snapped out of it and gestured me in, his voice softer than his face indicated, “Sorry, come in. Please, sit.”

“Black, two sugars,” I recited while setting the carrier down on his desk. I gently rotated the cup out and placed it in front of him.

His lips finally won the battle, turning into a deep, closed-mouth smile. As quickly as it came, it disappeared again as he turned to look out of his window at the team. They feigned “work” well, but Hotch wasn’t convinced and stood up to lower his blinds.

“Subtle,” I nearly snorted.

“They’re nosy,” he sighed and sat back down.

“How are you feeling?” I shrugged my bag off my shoulder and plopped it on the floor before taking a seat across from him. I twisted my own cup out of the holder and brought it to my lips with a satisfied hum.

I hadn’t realized I closed my eyes with that sip until I was blinking them open to see Hotch’s calculating eyes scanning me. I tilted my head questioningly.

“Much better. I think the withdrawal headache made it worse,” he lifted the coffee cup up and sipped his. As he pulled it away from his face, he examined the label, “Where’d you get this?”

“Just some place in town I found on the way in. I brought pastries but I think they’ve started decimating them out there,” I laughed, imagining Morgan working with one hanging from his lips.

“That’s kind of you.”

“Felt rude not to,” I shrugged. “I’m glad you’re feeling better though, it didn’t seem like you hit it that hard but the mixture with the blast probably didn’t help.”

“No kidding. The past week was eventful in all the worst ways.”

A laugh was pulled from deep in my chest as I nearly choked on the liquid in my mouth. I wiped at the corner of my mouth as I recovered, “Seems like that might be putting it mildly.  But hey, you could have used the lingering headache as the perfect excuse to avoid a coffee d—meet.”

Hotch smirked over the lid of the coffee cup with a raised eyebrow, “A coffee date? Presumptuous,” he finished with my rank and last name, making my face heat up at how smoothly it came out. “But…I would have missed out on my wager, and it’s been worth the wait so far.”

Any worry I had last week about whether I was imagining this or not flew out of the window at lightning speed, “I’m glad I’m good company.”

“I know, I was surprised,” he joked, smirking once again. “Hopefully this isn’t too out of your way.”

I bit back a laugh, “I work out of the DC field office in Violent Crimes.”

Hotch’s face dropped immediately, “Why would you come all the way here?”

“You asked me to,” I stated simply. His face was concerned and almost looked mad that I would do that, “I’m teaching an intro to field medicine course at the academy today, don’t worry. I was just making you sweat.”

“You didn’t have to try hard to accomplish that,” he shook his head, visibly relaxing and licking over his lower lip.

We enjoyed a brief silence, savoring our drinks and listening to the bustle outside of Hotch’s office. His eyes flicked between my face and the cup being cradled and dwarfed by his hands. He was reserved, which was unsurprising given the setting, and hadn’t quite shut off the serious demeanor he carried in his office. It was hardly a problem and was still a fairly comfortable silence.

That was until my eyes settled on a photo behind his head, “Is that your son?”

Hotch slowly spun away so he could see what I was looking at and nodded with the brightest smile I’d seen on his face so far. I could tell his son was his whole world just from that look.

“Yea, Jack,” he confirmed with a proud smile.

“May I?” I was already half out of my seat.

“Sure,” he nodded, savoring another long sip of coffee.

I rounded his desk and got a closer look at the photo of father and son, with a real, honest-to-God grin on Hotch’s face, “He’s so cute. How old is he?”

“Five, almost six,” Hotch tilted his head at his son’s smiling face, fiddling with the coffee cup in his hand.

I glanced at his left hand, quickly looking back at the photo.

Lack of a ring tan means he didn’t divorce or separate too recently. Oh my—stop that right now.

“He had to have gotten his looks from his mom because…” I looked at Hotch again, making a show of looking him up and down before mocking a cringe. I stepped back from the photo and leaned against his desk.

Hotch hissed from between his teeth, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, “That would hurt more if you weren’t right.”

“I’m kidding,” I purposefully knocked my leg into his foot. “He’s got your eyes.”

“He just started school recently. He’s so smart,” Hotch looked thoughtfully up at the photo once more. “Figuring out co-parenting with school has been a bit of a struggle, but Haley and I are making it work.”

“I’m sure it’s a whirlwind, even with two parents.  My younger brother is a newly single father.”

“It is, but he's a great kid and I’m lucky to have him.”

My watch started beeping, alerting me to my twenty-minute warning before I needed to be downstairs for the course. I quickly turned off the alarm and focused back on Hotch.

“Speaking of kids, have you taken him to the new bakery on King and Cameron?  They have these incredible cupcakes that my nephew loves. I don’t know how far that is from you.”

“Not too far and Jack does have a sweet tooth,” he pondered for a moment. “Maybe we could check it out sometime. Without him. You know, make sure it’s safe first.” 

I was taken aback for a second at the invitation, “We?  Now who’s presumptuous?” I smirked. Before he could reply I was speaking again, “Would Saturday work for you?”

“It should. Provided we don’t get a case. Eight?”

“Sounds good. I have to run, but—uh—I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” Hotch smirked back.

I just about ran out of his office, almost forgetting my bag in the process, not wanting to be late in front of a bunch of trainees. He shook his head at my antics and I had to ignore the way my face felt like it was on fire out of embarrassment.

I’m so fucking dumb.

-

Chapter 3

[iliumheightnights]

Hometown | Clark Kent x Male!Reader

Fandom: DC Pairing: Clark Kent x Male Reader Summary: Clark takes his boyfriend back to Smallville for the first time. His boyfriend finally gets to meet the Kents.

A/N: Alright, so this might not be my best work, but I still wanted to write SOMETHING while I was stuck in bed. But then again, I’m still a bit out of it so I’m hoping it is a decent story.

~~~

“Next stop, Smallville station.”

M/n looked out the window as the train sped down the tracks. Fields of corn passed by in flashes. He turned his attention away from the window towards his traveling companion next to him. Clark was reading a newspaper they had grabbed before boarding the train.

“So…is it ALL corn fields?”

Clark laughed hearing that. He sat his paper down and looked at M/n. “I can assure you, Kansas is not all corn fields…only most of it and other farm lands.” He laughed and M/n’s face. “But honestly if you go to some of the cities like Wichita or Topeka those are more urban, it's the smaller towns that are farms really. Lucky for you, Smallville isn’t all farms.” M/n raised his brows and nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Was this the point that Clark told his boyfriend they’d be STAYING on a farm? He had already known that right? Clark honestly couldn’t remember if M/n knew or not and decided to just let it roll. I mean…they were staying with Ma and Pa and the Kent’s OWNED a farm.

Oh well.

Soon the train pulled into the station and came to a stop. Clark helped M/n with the luggage and carried them. “I can carry mine Clark, it's no problem.” Clark chuckled and shook his head. “I got it. Don’t worry. Besides, this is nothing.” Of course he was referencing his superstrength. To him it really was nothing. M/n also knew it was pointless trying to argue with him and let it go.

The two of them left the station and were greeted by the sight of a rather small town. “Well…this is quaint.” M/n said with a smile. Honestly he didn’t mind the small town, it was a nice change of pace from the hustle of Metropolis.

Soon there was the sound of a horn honking and they watched as a pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. “Clark! Oh Clark!” Once the truck parked a nice older couple jumped out and soon tackled Clark into a tight embrace. Obviously his parents. “Hi Ma. Hi Pa.” He returned their embrace for a while before they broke apart.

Martha then turned her attention towards M/n. Her smile never fading or breaking. “And you must be M/n! Clark has told us so much about you!” She then engulfed M/n in a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She pulled back and that’s when Jonathan walked up. “Pleasure to meet you M/n. Put ‘er there.” He said lifting his hand for a handshake. M/n returned the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you too sir.”

“Alright let’s get you two back to the farm. I bet you two are hungry.” Jonathan helped take the cases from Clark and load them in the truck. Soon all of them were in the truck and on their way back to the farm. As they drove through town Clark and Martha pointed out certain places and landmarks, each with their own story.

“Oh look! M/n that’s the high school where Clark went to. Clark, do you remember that time-” Clark blushed at almost every story Martha told. Most of them embarrassed Clark but M/n absolutely loved hearing about his boyfriend’s life before. “And that’s the farmer’s market stalls, that happens every weekend. Clark used to go with us all the time back in the day. He’d go running off to eat the samples though.” Martha giggled at that. “Ma…”

“What’s that?” M/n pointed to a newer looking building that seemed to be reaching the end of construction. Jonathan seemed to grunt at that. “A new LexCorp office. They bought a couple of farm’s out here for their own. I don’t like it.” M/n looked to Clark who was frowning. He could tell Clark wasn’t liking it either. He’d talk to him about it later.

It wasn’t much longer before they were out of town and going down a gravel road. More cornfields. M/n could tell Clark was looking at him with that smug smile on his face. Soon a large and beautiful farmhouse came into view. The Kent Family Farm. M/n had seen photos of it before but they didn’t do it justice.

Soon the truck was parked and Martha was already booking it to the house. “I’m going to get lunch started for you both!” Clark laughed. “It’s alright Ma! You don’t need to!” Martha only waved him off, she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Clark went to grab the bags with Jonathan. M/n was going to grab his as well but stopped when he heard a dog bark. “WAS THAT A DOG!?” He turned around and soon a blur of white ran across the yard and jumped into his arms. “RUFF!” The dog licked at his face and made M/n laugh. “That’s Krypto. Hey boy! How are you?” Clark rubbed the dog's head. “He missed you.” Jonathan said moving into the house. Clark and M/n followed after him with Krypto trailing behind.

The inside of the Kent’s house was just as beautiful as the outside. The entire place gave a sense of warmth and familiarity. Photos of the family lined the walls and tables. Most were of Clark throughout the stages of his life. M/n looked at each and every one of them. “I sat the bags in your old room, Clark. Figured you’d stay in there.”

“That’s fine, thanks Pa.” Clark moved to place the bags in the room and M/n followed.

Clark’s room…made M/n smile. The room OBVIOUSLY hadn’t been touched since Clark left for Metropolis. Lots of his movie posters were still up with different drawings and fliers. It really did give off the vibe of a high school senior’s room before leaving for college. “So…this was your room?” M/n said with a smile before picking up a photo with a young Clark and some friends. “It’s adorable.”

Clark’s face turned bright red from blushing. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked sheepish. “Yeah, when I left I never really put anything away. Honestly, I kind of half expected to return rather soon. When I didn't it was a surprise. Guess Ma and Pa didn’t touch a thing. Though now it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“I don’t think so…okay maybe just a bit, but I think that happens to a lot of people.” M/n laughed and planted a kiss to Clark’s cheek. “Now how about you show me around a bit?”

“Gladly.”

Clark showed M/n around the farm. Honestly there wasn’t a lot to really look at. Fields, the barn, some animal pens, and of course the house. But both were enjoying the company of each other as they walked. “There IS some place I’d like to show you though.” Clark said.

He took M/n’s hand and walked him to the back of one of the farm buildings. At first it didn’t seem like anything was there, but then Clark moved one of the panels. “A secret door?” Clark smirked and nodded. “After you.” M/n walked into the hole. He expected to see some sort of farm storage or something but instead saw a nice little hideaway.

“This is my nook. I used to come here a lot when I just needed to get away from things.” Clark said as he sat down on a pillow. M/n looked around the place. It was small and decorated with a blanket and some pillows. A few books and posters were around. “This is cool. Did you make this place?”

“Yes and no. The building is used to store old equipment and things. But I discovered there was this back section that wasn’t being used. So I kind of made it my own.” M/n laughed and sat on another pillow. “Do your parents know about this place?”

Clark chuckled. “Oh I’m sure. You can’t hide anything from Ma. Pa? Sure, but Ma? No way.” 

“Speaking of, we should probably head back. I’m sure lunch is probably done.”

“Yeah and knowing Ma she won’t stop fussing until we eat.”

Clark stood up and helped M/n up. He placed another kiss on his boyfriend’s lips before they left the nook. “I’m glad I got to share this with you.” M/n smiled. “I am too. I like getting to learn more about you.” He held Clark’s hand as they left.

They sealed up the hole before heading back to the house. Something told M/n that this trip was going to tell him a bunch about Clark he didn’t know.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can I request John Constantine fic where the reader is a eldritch or an angel that's known the league for a while or they capture them but John knows them.

I'm a literal whore for that man 👹

John Constantine x Angel male reader

Headcanons

Reader’s bit of a black sheep amongst angels, cuz I feel like Constantine would go great with a bit of a rebel.

its honestly taken me too long to realize that lucifer from the show is the same lucifer as in the DC comics.

You had a bit of a past with John Constantine, with you being a bit of a rulebreaker amongst the angels and all. I mean, you still went to visit your brother Lucifer on the regular, even if you had been told not to.

Michael had scolded you more times than you could count, telling you not to pop in and out of hell as you please just because you want too, or to not just teleport to earth willy-nilly when Lucifer relocated there for a while.

It was at Lucifers club that you met Constantine for the first time. You didn’t really speak to him, but you did see how he seemed to truly get on your older brothers’ nerves, so you already liked him for that alone.

After the blonde Brit left, Lucifer would give you the whole spiel about him, complaining about how many times he had sold his soul, and all the trouble his actions caused in hell, and how much paperwork the blonde gave him.

After that you bump into him in other places. You like to party, you like to fight, you like to be a nuisance. And its not like anybody can stop an angel as powerful as yourself if they wanted. They’re lucky you just like to be annoying by nature and that you aren’t actually evil.

It ends up with you getting mixed up in some of the things Constantine get up too, even if its by accident because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You always just know that Michael is gonna be on your neck when you get back to heaven after each time, but hanging out with John is worth it.

Hes tried to get you drunk so many times, but it never works no matter what kind of stuff he pulls out of his coat. Being angelic doesn’t really allow you to be weakened by something as small as alcohol. But its fun to see him try anyways.

In the eyes of your siblings, even Lucifer, Constantine is a bad influence, and they’ll scold you for spending so much time with a mortal, especially someone as twisted on the ledgers as Constantine. You just always shrug, flutter your wings, and fly off to do whatever it is you do. Being the youngest has its perks, since it means you get away with quite a lot.

It was also this carefree attitude that got you caught and locked up by the league. They hadn’t dealt with many angels before, so in the beginning they think you are something else. Be It a mutant or a spirit.

You could easily escape if you wanted too. Something as weak as a man-made structure wasn’t gonna hold you, but you had been bored for weeks now, so why not see what happens. You do get pretty annoyed when they talk about you like you cant hear them. They don’t know you can hear them, but still.

Zatanna easily spots that you are of divine descent, but just how far up in the hierarchy you are is a bit lost to her, since they still believe you can be captured by human means. This is why they’re forced to call in Constantine, since hes the only one they know who regularly interacts with an angel.

The Brit has a good laugh when he sees you sitting on the floor in a cell pouting, your wings wrapped around you like a cocoon. At this point you just phase out of the cell to flick Constantine in the temple for laughing at you.

John is the one that has to explain that you could have escaped the entire time if you wanted, you were just a dick that got bored easily. The dick comment makes you huff and smack him with your wing.

After all that is cleared up, the two of you go out to drink like usual. I could imagine the league trying to figure out if you’d be willing to help them when times are tough, but to their dismay you just shrug and give a “if I feel like it”.

Constantine will later explain to them in passing, mainly to roast you, that you are the youngest, which means that you aren’t used to real work and can just do whatever you want, cuz all your older siblings baby you.

His chair disappears from right under him for that comment, so the league takes it with a grain of salt. In the end you help out if there really is no other way, since angels shouldn’t interfere with minor issues.

Most of the time on earth you spend with John though, since he matches your wavelength and isn’t freaked out by the whole angel thing.

[mlm-writer]

Stories by the Void (John Constantine x M!Reader)

Pairing: John Constantine (LoT ver.) x Male!Monster Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1868 POV: Second Summary: Your dumbass warlock boyfriend did not come home in time, so you decided to drag his ass home and then fuck that ass too. Note: When I say monster reader, I mean reader is a person-ish sized lovecraftian-esque eldritch abomination. Thank you. Tags: hint of bondage, explicit murder, magic, tendrils and tentacles, anal sex, monstercock (literally lmao), reading smut, ok scratch the hint of bondage i forgot the tentacle bondage, so more than a hint of bondage, intimate rough sex, choking, knotting, bit of cuminflation and dirty talk

With each step the ground blackened under your feet. Darkness encased your being, even the light afraid of touching you in your current state. Within that infinite void that made it seem like there was a hole in the universe, a dozen eyes pierced the darkness with their crimson glow. If your malicious aura did not alert the guards, your piercing stare certainly did. They froze in fear, their tiny human minds incapable of comprehending the monstrosity before them. It was better this way. There was no need for you to stain yourself with their blood right before paying your stupid boyfriend a visit.

And so you waltzed right into the ruins of an old church. As you pushed open the doors, you were greeted with a familiar scent mixed with the tang of iron-rich blood. Constantine was on his knees on the floor with his hands tied by a thick rope in front of him, which you would have found very sexy were it not for the blood dripping down his nose and temple. Two nonhumans turned towards you when they heard you enter. You did not bother discerning who or what they were. The fuck did you care anyway?

"Oi, good to see you, love," your boyfriend called from where he was on the scarlet-stained stone floor. He was beaten badly and yet still had that dumbass smirk on his face. One of the others in the room leaped at you. You caught them midair in a large claw.

"You haven't been home," you complained as you squeezed the literal life out of the individual you caught. Black blood dripped onto the floor as bones cracked under your force. When the person was nothing but a drained sack of meat, you tossed them to the ground. The other individual just ran off. For the better, you had no desire to kill them anyway. Their lives meant as little to you as their deaths.

You strode over to your boyfriend, grabbing him by the rope that bound his hands. “What? Thought I would be out here cheating on you?” John was teasing, but he should not be testing you. You looked like the embodiment of the devil himself, but John was on a first name basis with Lucifer himself. That and he loved you too much to be even slightly intimidated by your malicious aura.

You lifted him to his feet and pulled him close to you. “You smell awful,” you grumbled, before dragging him by his bound hands out of the building. When you departed the building, you saw the guards had decided that you were above their paygrade. They were nowhere to be seen. Once outside, you engulfed John in the darkness of your body and teleported him home.

You materialised directly in the bathroom, where you deposited him into a bath you had prepared before you went out to get him. It was no longer boiling, your tracking taking up enough time for it to turn lukewarm. “That’s focking cold, mate!” John complained, not even wondering where his clothes went. He was used to your random powers by now. You sighed and stuck an appendage in the water. As you chanted a spell, the water slowly heated up. “Ok that’s better,” John said to make you stop. You removed yourself from the water and grabbed the shampoo. “Are you just gonna keep my hands like this?” John questioned while holding up his bound hands.

You chuckled and gave a nod, before sinking your digits into his hair, massaging his scalp carefully with your soapy claws. “I like seeing you tied up,” you growled close to his ear. The shiver running down John’s spine did not go unnoticed. After you were done with his hair, you washed the rest of his body, pampering and teasing your boyfriend until his cock was twitching under the water.

John gave you the bedroom eyes all throughout you drying him off with the cleanest towel you had. “You’ve been away for too long,” you whispered as you brought John to the sofa. John was a pliant, needy mess and let you put him across your lap with ease. Your tendrils played with his hole, your slick helping with getting him ready for you. John knew what was going to happen. You had agreed long ago that you couldn’t handle it when he didn’t carry your scent on him. You needed others of your kind to know that you had made your claim. John just needed your fat length inside of him.

Your partner mewled as your small tendrils made their way inside him. They pushed at his walls, stretching him gently more and more. One of them had a different mission though, prodding and rubbing at that one spot where he was the most sensitive. You could feel John leaking all over you, but as much as you wanted him to smell like you, you wanted to smell like him too.

John - the sly fox he is - didn’t tell you how close he was, clearly trying to get out of the sexual torture you had planned for him. Unfortunately for him, you did not need him to tell you with words, his moans telling you all you needed to know. You replaced your thin tendrils with the tentacles that spawned from your back, stretching him out even more, while balancing John on the fine edge of orgasm. He moaned through gritted teeth, trying so hard to not make a sound. You decided to not tease him for once; let him have his pride.

With your tentacles, you manhandled John into your lap. Your thick cock slipped inside his stretched ass with ease. John gasped, a soft moan escaping him as you filled him. “Relax, my sycophant,” you whispered as he buried his face into your neck. Your tentacles wrapped around John’s thighs, keeping him in place with your giant member buried halfway inside him. He was warm. His hole fluttered around you, adjusting to the intrusion gradually.

One of your many appendages reached out to grab a book. A deep rumble coated your voice as you read the short stories to John.

“When his clothes were shed down to his underwear, I kissed down his body, my huge tongue lapping at his skin. His skin had a tangy aftertaste, making me moan at the flavour with each lick. Each wet trail I left on his skin was met with a low hum. I pulled off his underwear and took his dick in my mouth. He whimpered, hands grabbing the sheets. He was so small compared to me. I could take his cock and balls in my mouth without breaking a sweat, the back of my mouth none the wiser of my activities. He almost cried from the pleasure I brought him.”

John wanted to ride you to the sunset, but your tentacles wrapped around him did not even allow for a little grinding. You were only two pages in when you needed to restrain John’s hands as well. Little John was leaking all over your abdomen.

“He hissed as I breached him again. I stared at him as he took me deeper than I thought he would. He managed to impale himself halfway my length, before he raised up just a little. I was enthralled by the way his body moved while he deep-fucked himself on my cock, taking half of it inside and moaning like a song that I never wanted to end. I placed my hands on his hips, helping him at first, but soon enough I lifted and lowered him like a toy on my cock.”

You were a few short stories in when John was panting against your shoulder, his body vibrating with desire. He wouldn’t beg, too proud for it, but the suppressed whines were enough for you. You put the book away and lifted his head up with a sharp claw, the nails pressing against the skin without piercing it. “Promise me you take me with you next time,” you whispered into his face, your hot breath warming his already red skin.

“With pleasure, love, but you don’t exactly blend in anywhere.” You slapped his bottom, letting him know you were not pleased with the answer. He keened against you, trembling in your lap. “What? You’re going to keep me here until I say yes?” You shrugged, an evil smirk on your face. You could force nations to their knees and yet this one warlock was your greatest challenge.

“I can disguise myself, you know. I just choose not to, most of the time.” You loosened your tentacles for a second and thrust up into John. He moaned softly, eyes wide and mouth open. Then you restrained him again. “If you want more, say yes, my darling.” You caressed his face dotingly.

“Bollocks, fine! As long as you blend in and fuck me right now.” Your tentacles moved, changing their positions around John’s body. They no longer held him down, but had the perfect leverage to lift him up and down to your will.

“Your wish is my command, warlock,” you growled in his ear, before moving him as you pleased. John’s arms were held behind his back as you moved him over your shaft like he was just a fleshlight. The human’s dick bounced up and down, slapping against his tentacle-covered stomach. John’s mouth was so beautifully open as he wailed on your massive length, you could not resist filling that mouth too.

John sucked eagerly on the tentacle you offered him. The lewdness of being spitroasted by just you got to his head. His seed spilled over you without warning. You pulled him down and against your frame. With small thrusts, you milked him empty. Without the tentacles, the outline of your dick was clearly visible through the skin of John’s abdomen. His eyes met some of yours, the hazy look on him showing nothing but pleasure. “My turn,” you grinned as you wrapped a claw around his neck and started thrusting up inside him. He would’ve screamed if he had the air for it. His whole body was shaking as you overstimulated his gaping, raw-fucked ass. A knot swelled at the base of your cock.

With your low, gravelly voice, you told John all the dirty things you wanted to do to him now he was back. John cried out as the mental image forced a second orgasm out of him. Feeling him cum again, you grabbed his shoulder and pulled him all the way down, forcing him to take your knot into his ass. John was a mess, tears and drool staining his beautiful face. Complete nonsense poured out of his mouth as you filled him up so much, the outline of your member seemed to disappear as his belly inflated with your load.

John’s limp dick twitched, but there was no way John had any energy left in him. Before you knew it, he was passed out against your torso, softly snoring against your shoulder. You’d give him another bath later, but for now, you let him rest. There were many more things to do to him later.

[zolass]

ᅠᅠ𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬󠀽

ㅤㅤ···─ Welcome to the Character List and Request blog. This blog will simply help with what I would write if requested. If there's any request's simply Submit / Ask.

Please keep in mind to be respectful, I do update rather slow and if I don't like a requests, when it has things in it that make me uncomfortable, I'll ignore it. I'm probably going to make a separate blog where I might create characters for Top / Bottom Male Readers. I was first thinking about making it mostly just Top Male Reader, but I do take requests for bottom, as I also included bottom Male reader (a lot) in the Kinktober.

THINGS I'LL WRITE:

Smut / Fluff / (shitty) Angst / Hurt w Comfort Male Char x Male Reader Male Oc x Male Oc (my own) Male Char x Male Char Yandere (pretty bad at it but love it) (more to be added)

THINGS I WON'T WRITE:

Fem Readers or Characters (Platonic Fem Char are okay) Hurt w no comfort (bc I'm a bitch and I cry) Incest Self-Harm NonCon /CNC (maybe one day if I use yandere) Age play Watersports / Scat Play Pedophilia Rape Play (more to be added)

ㅤㅤ···─ FOR REQUESTS 01 ── Be patient and respectful 02 ── Please try to write properly what you want in the request if it's not stated as Top or Bottom I'll decide. (More to be added)

ㅤㅤ···─CHARACTERS I quickly need to inform y'all, even though I made this, I probably have no clue or don't know enough of the characters bc my attention span is actually dog shit. So there is a high chance of OOC or simply inaccurate shit, if there's a chance for me to inform me for specific characters I will but no promises. If you're not sure if I write for something simply ask, maybe I forgot about some that some of you find interesting ㅤㅤ···─GAMES Genshin Impact, Honkai SR, Tears of Themis, Nu Carnival, Love & Deepspace, Dislyte, Cookie Run Kingdom, Valorant, COD, Overwatch, Ensemble Stars, Reverse 1999, Obey me, Wuthering Waves, DBD, Baldurs Gate, - More to be added ㅤㅤ···─MOVIES / SERIES Maze Runner, Lucifer, Supernatural, Twilight, U.N.C.L.E, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Marvel, DC, F&F, Shadowhunters, Valerian, Hunger Games, Avatar,

More to be added (These are more of those who I either watched / started watching, or I simply have an interest for)

ㅤㅤ···─ANIMES (Before I start the list, just so yk I do want to watch anime but my attention span-)

One Piece, AOT, JJK, Blue Lock, Naruto, Chainsaw Man, Windbreaker, Haikyuu, Sk8, Avatar, - More to be added

ㅤㅤ···─LISTS Here's going to be the rough List of the Characters I'll write for (most) ···─GAMES Genshin Impact | Honkai Star Rail | Tears of Themis | Nu Carnival | Love & Deepspace | Cookie Run Kingdom | Valorant | COD | Overwatch | Ensemble Stars | Reverse 1999 | Obey Me | Wuthering Waves

···─MOVIES / SERIES Maze Runner | Lucifer | Supernatural | Twilight | U.N.C.L.E | Sherlock | Harry Potter | Marvel | DC | F&F | Shadowhunters | Valerian | Hunger Games | Avatar ···─ANIMES One Piece | AOT | JJK | Blue Lock | Naruto | Chainsaw Man | Windbreaker | Haikyuu | SK8 | Avatar

[mr-celestial-writings]

Missile Toad

Day 2: Decoration

Pairing: Ryuji Sakamoto x Male! Reader

Summary: It's Ryuji's first Christmas with you! He's so excited that he's forgetting the names of decorations.

PERSONA MASTER LIST! CELESTIAL'S 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

================================================

Ryuji was running around, dragging out boxes. You had invited him over to help decorate for Christmas. He handled a lot of the heavy lifting for you.

"Don't worry about it, handsome!" He had told you. Now he regretted it. His bad leg was screaming. He would kill for a break.

You noticed this, so, of course, you took over. Besides, it was your house, your parents told you to decorate. It wouldn't be fair or right to make Ryuji do all the work.

"Ryu, go, rest. Don't push yourself, love." You chimed softly.

"Nuh uh, [Name], I offered to help!" Ryuji pouted. You laughed, pushing Ryuji to the couch.

"Let me handle this next chunk, rest." You ordered.

Ryuji rolled his eyes, sitting down on the couch. He pulled out his phone, shocked to see all the messages in the group chat.

Yusuke: Ryuji has been surprisingly quiet today. Makoto: I Agree. Should we be worried? Ann: I don't think so. He told Ren and I that he was helping somebody. Ren: Not just anybody, his boyfriend~ Ryuji: Oh shut up! Futaba: :0 Futaba: He Lives! Ryuji: Yeah yeah, laugh it up. I'm helpin [Name] Today. Haru: How wonderful! This is your first Christmas, yes? Ryuji: Yeah, his parents wanted him to start decorating. He asked me to help. Ryuji: He's forcing me to take a break rn. Ann: Awww~ He cares for you! Ryuji: Yeah, He does. We have a good thing here. I don't want to eff it up. Ren: You won't Ryuji. Trust me. Ryuji: Anyways, we just finished putting up lights. haven't found any missile toad though. His parents said not to worry about putting that up.

Futaba: Hold Up, Missile Toad? Haru: Don't you mean Mistletoe, Ryuji?

Ryuji: Huh? What's wrong with what I said? Ann: The pretty boy is turning his brain to mush! We're losing him! Ryuji: Shut up!

Ryuji Rolled his eyes, setting his phone to the side. His cheeks were warm.

He looked over at you, smiling softly. His irritation was quickly forgotten as he worked.

Yeah, maybe his brain was turning to mush... but for you? Ryuji would let the world burn.

================================================

a/n: trying to get better about spicing up my writing. I know most of you are here for DC, but I do have other interests.

[writing-mlm]

I have a kinda niche DC request. If you don’t write for him it’s fine but Jean-Paul Valley/Azrael x M! reader would actually be so awesome I’ve never seen a male reader fic for him

Soft

Summary: a night in with Jean-Paul Pairing: Jean-Paul Valley x Male reader Wc: 600 tags: it's Jean-Paul so religious talks a/n: this was gonna be longer, like I was gonna read more than two comics for him and then understand the little guy more but yknow...

There were two things that kept Jean-Paul sane, his faith and you. A lesser man would’ve said they were one in the same. You, a man of little faith had brought him, the man who has Azrael, the Angel of Death, so much peace. So much solace. 

You’d found him, scruffed him like he was a stray cat, and brought him in from the rain after Bruce had returned to reclaim the Batman mantle. Him, a cold-blooded killer, wrangled in by the smell of freshly brewed tea and a trusty first-aid kit. 

You comb his hair with care, bringing the long blonde strands to the top of his head, kissing the nape of his neck as he quietly recites saints, fighting to keep Azrael at bay. His bangs hang over his large, circle glasses and you dare not touch them as you wrap the hair in your grasp into a high pony. 

He finishes his rambles with a huff, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and lays his head against your thigh. Never mind that the action pushes the glasses back down. While he lays there, you mess with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, twirling them absentmindedly. 

“I… need to go and pray,” He announces, rising from his knees, his hands lingering on you before he fully detaches himself. “He is exceptionally loud.”

“Okay,” You nod, pulling your legs up to the couch while he heads over to the bedroom. “I’ll leave your dinner on the counter.”

“Thank you,” The last thing you see from him is the blonde pony you’d done. 

You’re aware of how Azrael feels about you, it’s a sort of simmering hatred but an appreciation. Jean-Paul is able to let him out more often with you at his side, he’s able to fulfill his duties a lot more now. But you’re an unrepentant man; you deny he is an Angel entirely. You don’t join the prayers. A man whose faith resides in something different from his own, something so connected that it taints Jean-Paul’s own belief. 

One of these days you’re sure he’s going to kill you for that. 

Dinner is ready by eight but he doesn’t leave the bedroom until midnight, his nose dripped with blood and the bandages around his arms need changing. He places his food into the microwave while you grab a change of bandages and a bucket to wash away the blood. The blood bucket, as it’s been dubbed and labeled with a now faded black Sharpie. 

“Are we still going to church tomorrow?” His careful eyes watch as you unwrap the dirtied bandages, hissing slightly when you accidentally peel them off too fast. 

“Do you want to?” You murmur, brushing the soaping sponge against his arms. He nods, holding your forearm in a ghostly grip as you clean him. Washing away the sins of the Azrael’s before him. “Then we’ll go. Remember to iron your shirt and pants.” 

“I can do yours, too,” He offers and you smile, kissing the palm of his calloused hand. The microwave stops but he doesn’t move to grab his plate, rather he waits for you to finish putting on the new wrappings before he unfurls from the couch and drifts back into the kitchen. 

He eats while you watch reruns of Saved by the Bell, ignoring the fact that you could go for a little nibble of his food. It’s your fault it smells so good. Jean-Paul notices, because of course he does, and piles a good amount of food on his fork without you noticing. 

“Here,” He smiles, extending the fork towards you. You shake your head but he insists, now letting the food touch your lips. Laughing, you eat the food and thank him.