#do not tease me like dc

[nightwingandhissquad]

[nixotinix]

with the confidence of a squirrel on crack cocaine i offer the request of; A Gentleman’s ghost!

with the hubris of a monkey on adderall i give you; art!

thank you for the request anon!! as well as the mental image of a squirrel on crack. DC character requests still open for any interested parties!

[necrotic-nephilim]

I know you like Young Justice 98 so I have to ask what you think of my favorite problematic girl Greta Hayes.

I LOVE GRETA SO MUCH.

Greta Hayes is my favorite bbygirl ever. i think her backstory is super interesting and i wish DC had done more with the whole Warder concept, exploring other Warders and what her relationship could've been with them. i just love the like. duality of her? the way she appears pretty shy and timid but has this really deep, explosive anger to her. she's a hot mess and i love her dearly, she can do no wrong in my eyes. the only moment i didn't like with her was when she and Steph fought, but i blame that more on the writers bc "two girls must have a crush on the cool main character and fight over him" just happens a lot in comics.

i lost my shit when Stargirl: Lost Children brought Greta back. i'm so happy she's back around and i think Lost Children was an interesting plot to explain the concept of all of these teenage heroes and sidekicks getting lost to comic book limbo. i wish Anita had also been in Lost Children but, i'm happy for the scraps of Greta we got bc if you'd asked me before if we would ever see her again, i would've said probably not. i hope the New Golden Age stuff does more with her and i'm delusional that we'll see her reunite with Young Justice, or at the very least Bart, since that's who she mentions being friends with in Lost Children.

i do ship her with Tim, i fear. i think her crush on him was really cute and how much faith she had in him. and him being the one who was able to talk out of working with Darkseid? just very cute vibes. i do also like GretaSteph, but GretaTim is rlly fun and i wish we had more content of it. whether it be an unrequited love situation where she has to watch him grow up while she's trapped as her age in this life/death limbo, or them actually trying to make it work. i crave to use her more in fanfic, i just haven't thought of stories to easily slot her into yet.

anyway, i love her, she's a doll, she should've been in Young Justice (2019), begging DC to do something with her now that she's officially back in the continuity. give her a mini or something pls DC my kingdom for content of my dumb angry ghost child.

[shoot-i-messed-up]

I imagine that in the Do I Look Like Him-verse future, Jill ends up befriending both Tai Pham and Artemis Crock, and I can’t help but think about how those two would interact

[mintyys-blog]

HOW TO GIVE HEAD 101 | jason todd x reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: blowjobs (male receiving oral sex), sexual themes.

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MINORS DNI

You and Jason lounged lazily on the couch, half-watching a movie, half just basking in each other’s company. You two had been friends forever — the kind of effortless bond built from late nights, too many shared secrets, and just enough mutual bad decisions to trust each other with anything.

You were playing with the hem of your hoodie, mind racing, heart hammering a little faster than you liked. Finally, you blurted out, “There’s this guy I like.”

Jason turned his head lazily toward you, one eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? What’s he like?”

You shrugged, a little embarrassed. “He’s… experienced. Like, really experienced.” You avoided Jason’s eyes, choosing instead to pick at a loose thread. “And we’ve been talking, a lot. It’s getting… flirty.”

Jason smirked knowingly, but said nothing.

You swallowed. “The thing is… he really likes—” you lowered your voice, like the apartment walls had suddenly become sentient, “—blow jobs. Like, a lot. And I’m not… super confident about that kind of thing.”

Jason’s expression stayed easy, but there was a flicker of amusement in his green eyes. You pressed on, cheeks burning.

“I just… I don’t wanna disappoint him, you know?” You fiddled harder with your sleeve. Then, almost too quietly to hear, you added, “So… I was kinda thinking… maybe…”

You turned your head slowly toward Jason, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look.

He stared at you blankly for a long beat. Then, deadpan: “Are you asking to suck my dick for experience to impress another guy?”

You grimaced, embarrassed, but forced yourself to nod. “Well… when you say it like that—”

Jason huffed a short laugh, tossing his head back against the couch. Then he looked at you again, more serious this time, something a little more careful in his gaze. “Go ahead,” he said, voice low, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your eyes widened. “Really?”

A grin broke out on your face — you couldn’t even help it — excitement and nerves mixing together in a way that made you buzz. “Yeah,” Jason shrugged, casual, but you could tell he was fighting a real smile. “I wouldn’t mind teaching you. First step, you already got down: sound excited — not like it’s a chore.”

You nodded quickly, trying to tamp down the giddy flutter in your chest. “Should I, uh… take notes or something?”

Jason let out a low chuckle and leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch, legs parted just enough to be cocky without trying. “Nah, baby,” he said smoothly, “you’ll have to learn from some hands-on training.”

Your heart thudded so hard you were sure he could hear it. Hands-on training. With Jason. This night was about to get a lot more interesting.

You shifted nervously onto the floor, settling between Jason’s spread legs, your knees pressing into the carpet. You looked up at him, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves twisting in your stomach.

Jason rested his arms lazily on the couch behind him, watching you with that same amused, half-lidded look. His voice was calm when he spoke, almost soothing.

“Alright, first thing you gotta understand…” he started, letting his legs spread a little wider, making room for you. “A blow job isn’t just about your mouth. It’s about enthusiasm. Pressure. Rhythm. How much you’re into it.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. Your hands rested awkwardly on your thighs, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

He smiled faintly, noticing. “Relax, babe. You’re not gonna hurt me.” He leaned forward slightly. “Start by using your hands first. Tease me a little. Get me hard. It’s not a race.”

You nodded again, hands a little shaky as you reached up and started fumbling with his belt. Jason chuckled low in his throat, reaching down to help you, fingers brushing yours as he undid it and let his jeans hang loose.

“Here.” His voice had dropped a little. “Go slow. Just… touch me. Light at first.”

You swallowed and slipped your hand inside his boxers, fingers grazing against warm skin. Jason sucked in a breath through his teeth, but didn’t rush you.

“Good… now, see, the first few seconds?” he said, tone lazy like he was explaining a game. “It’s about building it up. Light touches, kisses. Make it feel like you’re teasing the hell out of me before you even get serious.”

You blinked up at him again. “Kisses?”

“Yeah.” Jason smirked. “Like you’d kiss someone you really wanted. Start slow. Right at the tip.”

Your face burned hotter, but you leaned in, lips brushing just barely over him. Jason’s breath hitched — barely, but enough that you caught it — and your confidence grew just a little.

“There you go…” he murmured. “See? Already getting the idea.”

You placed another soft kiss, then another, feeling him twitch a little in your hand. Your mouth moved gently over him, just like he said.

Jason leaned his head back against the couch, watching you through half-closed eyes. His voice stayed calm, but rougher now.

“Now… flatten your tongue. Lick up the underside real slow. That spot’s sensitive as hell.”

You obeyed, sliding your tongue along the underside like he said, feeling him grow harder against your hand. His hand twitched like he wanted to touch you, to guide you, but he kept it at the back of the couch, letting you figure it out.

A low groan rumbled from his chest. “Fuck… you’re a quick learner, babe.”

You smiled a little against him, feeling bold now. Jason’s hips shifted just slightly forward, encouraging without saying a word.

“Now… open your mouth. Take just the tip in. Easy,” he coached, voice low and gravelly. “Don’t rush. Use your tongue while you’re sucking, swirl it a little.”

You did as he asked, easing him into your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue. You swirled like he said, cheeks hollowing a little as you sucked carefully, listening to every sound he made, every little twitch of his body.

Jason groaned again, this time not bothering to hide it. His hand finally slid off the back of the couch, fingers brushing lightly through your hair.

“Shit… you’re gonna kill him if you do it like this,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “You’re already better than half the girls I’ve been with.”

You pulled back slightly, a little shy at the praise, and Jason laughed breathlessly, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Don’t stop now, baby,” he murmured. “Lesson’s just getting started.”

You swallowed and leaned back in, lips wrapping around him again, feeling a thrill at how Jason’s body tensed beneath you. His hand stayed light in your hair, barely guiding — just a reassuring presence.

“Good girl…” he rasped, the words slipping out before he could catch them. You flushed at the praise, heart thudding harder.

Jason gave a low chuckle at your reaction, voice rough but still patient.

“Alright. Now use your hand too. Grip the base — yeah, like that. Twist your wrist a little while you move your mouth. Not too tight, just enough to keep the pressure steady.”

You tried it, sliding your hand along the length of him while your mouth worked the tip, feeling him throb under your touch. His breath caught, fingers flexing slightly in your hair.

“Shit, babe, yeah…” he muttered, letting his eyes close for a second before forcing them open again. He wanted to watch you — needed to.

You hollowed your cheeks a little more, moving your mouth and hand together like he said. Jason let out a low, broken groan, hips twitching slightly.

“You’re killing me here, you know that?” he gritted out, voice hoarse. “The way you’re looking up at me, all eager and pretty… fuck.”

You whimpered a little around him, and Jason cursed again under his breath. His thumb brushed your jaw, gently wiping a bit of spit away.

“Alright, next part,” he said, clearing his throat like he needed to get control back. His hand tightened slightly in your hair, but not enough to hurt — just enough to make you focus.

“Breathe through your nose. Try to take me deeper, a little at a time. You don’t have to force it — just let your throat open. If it gets too much, pull back. No shame in it.”

You nodded, determined, and slowly eased your mouth lower. Jason sucked in a sharp breath, the sound raw in the quiet room. You felt him bump the back of your throat and instinctively gagged a little, pulling back immediately.

Jason chuckled low, rubbing your scalp gently.

“That’s normal. Took me a while to get a girl to even try that.” His voice was warm, almost proud. “You’re doing better than you think.”

You tried again, taking him slower, relaxing your throat just like he said. This time you managed to take him a little deeper without gagging right away. Jason’s hips shifted again, this time clearly fighting the urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

“Jesus, Y/N…” he groaned. His hand gripped your hair more firmly, guiding your pace now — a slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuck, that’s it. Nice and slow. Let me feel your mouth, your tongue, all of it…” His voice was rough, almost shaking.

You felt yourself getting warm all over, your own thighs pressing together as you listened to him fall apart above you. It was addicting — the power of it, the trust he gave you, the way he praised you like you were already the best he’d ever had.

Jason’s breathing was ragged now, a deep flush creeping up his throat.

“Start stroking with your hand at the same time, baby. Mouth and hand together.” His instructions were getting choppier, like it was getting harder for him to think straight.

You followed, hand twisting at the base while you bobbed your head in slow, steady movements, feeling him twitch and pulse inside your mouth.

“F-fuck…” Jason hissed. “If you do that to the guy you like, he’s gonna fall in love on the spot.”

You smiled a little around him, pride blooming in your chest.

Jason’s other hand gripped the couch cushion like he needed to anchor himself, hips twitching again, almost involuntarily.

“You wanna really drive a guy crazy?” he gritted out. “Look up at him while you’re doing it. Let him see how much you love it.”

You glanced up through your lashes, cheeks flushed, mouth full of him — and Jason’s head dropped back against the couch with a broken growl.

“Goddamn it, Y/N…” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You’re too good at this.”

Jason’s breathing was ragged now, every muscle in his body drawn tight. His hand was firm in your hair, but not harsh — grounding you there, keeping you moving at the pace he wanted.

You kept your eyes locked on his, cheeks hollowed around him, hand sliding up and down the base just like he taught you.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned again, head tipping back, veins standing out along his throat. “You’re gonna make me lose it if you keep looking at me like that…”

Your stomach fluttered at the broken edge in his voice. It didn’t sound like he was coaching anymore. It sounded real — desperate.

His fingers tightened just a little more, forcing your mouth to take him a little deeper with each slow thrust of his hips.

“Little more, baby,” he muttered, voice rough and coaxing. “Open your throat, breathe through your nose, yeah? You can do it.”

You nodded as much as you could, letting him guide your rhythm — his hips rocking up slowly into your mouth, pulling back just enough not to overwhelm you. Every slow thrust made your throat burn a little more, but the raw sounds coming out of him made you want to keep going.

Jason’s hand left the couch and grabbed your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where spit was starting to drip down your chin.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growled under his breath. “Such a good girl… letting me teach you.”

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively at the praise. You were supposed to be learning for another guy — but right now, all you could think about was Jason, the way he sounded, the way he looked at you like he wanted to tear you apart and worship you at the same time.

“Move your hand a little faster,” he ordered, voice dark, strained. “Keep your mouth tight around me, fuck—”

You obeyed, hollowing your cheeks again, and Jason let out a broken, guttural moan that sounded like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck, Y/N… if you don’t stop, I’m gonna—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.

You whimpered a little around him, swirling your tongue just like he taught you, determined to see it through. The tension in him snapped — his hips jerked up once, hard, and his grip tightened on your hair as he spilled into your mouth with a strangled groan.

You gasped around him, swallowing instinctively because you didn’t know what else to do — Jason’s whole body was shaking, his head dropped back against the couch, chest heaving.

For a second, the only sound was his ragged breathing, the hum of the city outside the window.

Finally, Jason looked down at you — pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, chest still rising and falling fast.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, a slow grin curling his lips. “You’re dangerous, baby girl.”

You wiped your mouth shyly, heart hammering, unsure what to say. Part of you still couldn’t believe you actually did that.

Jason reached out, tugging you gently up by the arms until you were straddling his lap, his jeans pushed halfway down his hips. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his touch unexpectedly soft.

“You still wanna impress that other guy?” he asked, voice low, thumb stroking your jaw.

You blinked at him, mouth parting slightly.

“I…” you hesitated. Your heart twisted, because the way he was looking at you now — like you were the only girl in the world — made you forget why you wanted to impress anyone else to begin with.

Jason chuckled quietly, pressing his forehead lightly against yours.

“Thought so,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You don’t need anyone else, Y/N. Not when you already got me.”

Jason’s hand was just sliding up your thigh, his mouth brushing along your neck, when you stiffened slightly beneath him. He immediately pulled back, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong, doll?” he asked, voice low and careful.

You pressed a hand against his chest, chewing your bottom lip anxiously. “Jay… don’t get me wrong— I do like you, you’re amazing. But… I also really like this other guy, and…”

Jason leaned back the second you said it, smiling a little, though you could see the flash of disappointment he tried to hide.

“It’s okay, doll,” he said easily, lifting you gently off his lap and setting you next to him on the couch. “I get it.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow, hugging it against your chest, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry if I led you on—” you started, but Jason just laughed, shaking his head.

“You didn’t lead me on. Trust me,” he said, voice warm and teasing. “And anyway, it’s fine. I’m not gonna get butt hurt just because you like some other guy.” He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Say… what’s his name?”

You brightened immediately, eager to tell him. “Oh! His name is Dick Grayson!”

Jason had just taken a sip of his beer — and immediately choked, spraying it across the room. You panicked, rushing to his side and thumping his back. “Jason! Oh my god, are you okay??” you cried, worried as he coughed and tried to wave you off.

He nodded, clearing his throat with a rough laugh. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice hoarse. Then he smirked at you — a sly, almost wicked little look.

You didn’t catch it. You were too busy fretting over him. Jason reached out, ruffling your hair affectionately, and said, “Don’t worry, doll. Just do what you did tonight, and he’ll love it.”

You smiled wide, relief and excitement lighting up your whole face. “Thanks, Jason.”

He leaned back against the couch, tossing an arm around your shoulders in an easy, protective way. “Anytime, sweetheart,” he murmured, still grinning to himself — because you had no idea Dick Grayson was Jason’s older, adoptive brother. And Jason? He couldn’t wait to see how that was gonna play out.

Later that night, after you left — practically skipping with excitement about your crush — Jason was still stretched out on the couch, grinning at the ceiling like a man who just watched fate set a bomb and walk away whistling.

He grabbed his phone off the coffee table, thumbing through his contacts until he found the one labeled:

“Asshole #1”

He smirked and typed quickly:

Jason:

bro… we gotta talk.

it’s about you. and it’s hilarious.

He barely had time to set the phone down before it buzzed angrily.

Dick:

?? what did i do now?

i’m literally just eating cereal rn wtf

Jason barked out a short laugh and leaned back, picturing the look on Dick’s face when he found out who had been practicing just for him tonight.

He tapped another reply:

Jason:

nothing yet. just… be nice when a pretty little thing gets brave enough to flirt with you soon.

she’s special. don’t be a dick, dick.

There was a pause. Then:

Dick:

???

who the hell are you talking about???

JASON ANSWER ME

Jason laughed so hard he nearly dropped the phone. He thought about telling him the full truth — that you, sweet, bright-eyed you, had just spent the evening on your knees for him practicing — but he decided to let it simmer a little longer.

Wouldn’t hurt to make Grayson sweat.

He threw his phone onto the couch and muttered to himself with a grin, “Man… this is gonna be good.” And for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd felt like he had something to look forward to.

It all happened faster than you thought it would.

One minute, you were sitting next to Dick Grayson at a Titans gathering, both of you laughing over something stupid. The next, you were alone together in his room, your heart hammering so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

When you dropped to your knees in front of him — cheeks burning, nerves twisting in your gut — he barely had time to react before your hands were on his belt.

“Y/N—” he started, but the second your mouth wrapped around him, all coherent thought seemed to leave his brain.

He hissed through his teeth, one hand flying to the back of your head automatically — but not pushing, just gripping at your hair like he needed something to hold onto.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice cracking, hips jerking slightly against your mouth. You took him deep, hollowing your cheeks exactly how Jason had taught you, keeping your hand at the base and twisting gently as you moved — slow, purposeful, confident.

Dick almost blacked out.

It wasn’t just good — it was skilled. Way too skilled for someone who, from what he remembered, had said she was “still learning.”

He forced his eyes open, looking down at you — and that’s when the first little seed of suspicion planted itself.

Something about the way you worked him over — the way you squeezed at the base, the way you bobbed your head in rhythm, your tongue teasing just right at the tip — it wasn’t just natural talent. It was training.

You finally pulled off, blinking up at him innocently, a little bit of spit trailing down your chin.

He sucked in a ragged breath, trying to get a grip on himself. “Holy shit, Y/N,” he muttered, wiping his thumb gently across your lips. “That was— I mean, where did you learn to do that?”

You flushed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand shyly. “I mean… I practiced? Once. Before tonight.” You smiled nervously. “I told you I didn’t have a lot of experience… but I wanted to impress you, so…”

Dick’s brows furrowed slightly. “Practiced… with who?” he asked, trying to sound casual — but his voice cracked halfway through.

You shrugged, fidgeting. “Oh— um. Just… my friend Jason helped me.”

Silence. Utter, horrified silence. Dick’s whole face froze — eyes wide, mouth slightly open — like his soul physically left his body for a moment.

“Jason,” he repeated, voice tight.

“Yeah,” you nodded brightly, oblivious to the internal meltdown happening inside him. “He’s really good at explaining stuff. Super patient.”

Dick scrubbed a hand down his face, groaning. “Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath.

He wasn’t mad — not really. He couldn’t be. You didn’t know the full story — you didn’t realize you had literally just given him a blowjob with Jason Todd’s signature techniques. Techniques Dick had, unfortunately, recognized mid-orgasm.

He exhaled sharply, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“Okay,” he said, voice strangled but still kind. He reached down, pulling you into his lap carefully. “Okay. We’re gonna… just… move past that for now.”

You smiled shyly and snuggled against his chest, thinking he was embarrassed because he liked it so much.

Later that night, Dick was stalking down the hall like a man possessed, trying to find Jason. His face was flushed, his hair a mess, and he looked like he’d just been run over by a truck.

(Which, in a way, he kind of had.)

He found Jason exactly where he expected — in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping a beer like he had all the time in the world.

Jason clocked him immediately, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” Jason drawled, setting his beer down and crossing his arms. “Look who survived his special tutoring session.”

Dick stopped a few feet away, running a hand down his face in pure agony. “You’re a dick, you know that?” he groaned.

Jason barked out a laugh. “Me? I’m the dick?” He pointed at himself, grinning ear to ear. “I’m not the one who got the full Jason Todd patented blowjob experience without even asking.”

Dick made a strangled sound in his throat, visibly dying inside. “You taught her,” he hissed under his breath, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was nearby. “You taught her how to— to—”

“—to suck your soul out through your dick?” Jason finished helpfully, smiling so wide it should’ve been illegal. “You’re welcome.”

Dick was halfway between throttling him and bursting into laughter. “Dude, she’s so innocent,” he said, flailing his hands helplessly. “She has no idea— she just— trusted you!”

Jason shrugged, completely unbothered. “Hey, I was a perfect gentleman about it.” He took another sip of his beer, smirking behind the bottle. “She asked for help. I provided a public service.”

Dick pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning. “This is so messed up.”

Jason clapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending him stumbling forward.

“Look at it this way, Big Brother—” Jason said with a teasing grin. “At least you got the rewards without doing any of the work.”

Dick glared at him murderously — but he didn’t argue. Because— God help him… Jason wasn’t wrong.

You padded into the kitchen, still floating on a little high from earlier, only to freeze in the doorway. There stood Jason, casually leaning against the counter — and Dick Grayson, standing stiff as a board like he was caught hiding a dead body.

You blinked, shocked. “Jay! Hi—uh, what are you doing at the Tower?”

Before you could spiral into awkwardness, Jason’s grin stretched wider. He pushed off the counter and pulled you into an easy hug, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Dick just stood there behind him, looking like he was silently begging the universe to strike him dead.

Jason hugged you tight, smirking directly at Dick over your shoulder. “Oh, you know,” Jason said casually, voice dripping with amusement. “Just visiting family.”

You pulled away, frowning slightly. “Family? I thought you said you were adopted?”

Jason chuckled, like he was just remembering a silly little thing he forgot to mention. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like it was no big deal. “Well, funny thing… turns out I kinda forgot to tell you—Dick and I are brothers.”

You stared at him. Then at Dick. Then back at him. The realization hit you like a brick wall. Your face drained of color. Your jaw dropped. “Oh… oh no,” you breathed, stepping back in horror.

Jason just beamed, the most evil, smug, entertained older brother you could ever imagine. Dick, on the other hand, looked like he was about two seconds away from throwing himself out the window.

You covered your mouth, mortified. “I gave head to your—your—!!” you squeaked, unable to even finish the sentence.

Jason patted your head like you were a confused puppy. “Relax, dollface,” he said, winking shamelessly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Actually…” He cocked his head at Dick with a shit-eating grin. “You made my brother a very happy man tonight.”

“JASON!” Dick barked, red-faced, but Jason was already moving toward the door, laughing under his breath.

Before he left the kitchen, he turned back, tossed you a wink so quick Dick didn’t catch it — and said, “Good job, sweetheart. Proud of you.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hallway, whistling innocently.

You stood there frozen, absolutely mortified. Dick dragged a hand down his face, groaning like his soul had physically left his body.

“Well,” you mumbled, cheeks burning hotter than the sun, “at least now I know why it felt like he was weirdly good at teaching…” Dick just let out a helpless little noise of pain, looking at you like he had no idea whether to laugh or cry.

Later that night, Dick lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling like a man at war with his soul. He had been tossing and turning for an hour, replaying every agonizing second from earlier — your mortified face, Jason’s shit-eating grin, the way Jason had said “proud of you” like he was handing out a damn scouting badge—

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He groaned, rolling over to check it, praying it wasn’t who he thought it was. It was.

Jason Todd:

Hey big bro.

How’s my favorite little student?

Dick glared at the screen, feeling his blood pressure spike.

Before he could even respond, another text came in:

Jason Todd:

Did she use the twist?

Be honest.

Dick threw the phone onto the bed like it had personally insulted him, running both hands through his hair. “damn it, Jason,” he muttered, pacing the room.

The phone buzzed again.

Jason Todd:

You can thank me later.

Or name your first kid after me.

Your call.

Dick actually let out a strangled, painful laugh — half from genuine amusement, half from the soul-crushing secondhand embarrassment that was now his permanent companion.

He snatched the phone back up, thumbs flying across the screen.

Dick Grayson:

I’m going to kill you.

Slowly.

A second later:

Jason Todd:

You’re welcome.

<3

Dick groaned again, collapsing face-first onto the mattress. This was his life now.

[redr0sewrites]

NNN Hcs with the Dc Batboys

🥀A/n: exactly what is sounds like‼️ i love writing no nut november hcs sm-

🥀Character(s): Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader,

🥀Cw: smut, teasing, switch!reader, use of the term(s) prince/ss in Bruce's pt, dirty talk

🥀divider: @chachachannah <3

🥀minors dni

Dick Grayson:

bringing up NNN to Dick definitely raises a brow- at first he's a little confused, you don't want to have sex for an entire month? who would ever want that?

once you explain it though, i think he'd be really into it. he's definitely a little pouty that he can't even masturbate, and would probably complain if you were abstaining from sex without telling him why. once you convince him to join you though, he starts taking it very seriously

Dick has a bit of a competitive streak, so i definitely think he's in it to "beat you". he's teasing you endlessly, trying to get you to give in before the month ends (and theres definitely a high chance of him outlasting you)

actually suuuuuch an unfair tease, like genuinely he's soo annoying throughout the month. you walk by him wearing shorts? he's kneading your ass and giving it an appreciative slap. you don't have a shirt on for any reason whatsoever? he's coming up behind you and groping your chest, whether you have boobs or not, and whispering filthy things in your ear.

he's also big on teasing you in your sleep- you can't tell me Dick wouldn't have the biggest somnophilia kink ever so he's absolutely trying to get you worked up while your asleep, in hopes of you waking up and giving in

i honestly see two outcomes: he either makes it to the end of the month, or he gives up about 3/4 through. i feel like Dick has a pretty high libido, but i also think he has really good self control and can resist temptation so there's definitely some internal conflict on his end.

it gets to a point where, at the end of the month, because his libido is so high and he's been untouched for so long, he's like tweaking out over every touch and is becoming veeerrryyy needy and sensitive. this is probably the time period where he's most likely to give in as he's just soooo sensitive and can't even touch himself to get off! you have a much higher chance of getting Dick to give in once he reaches this threshold, and if you play your cards right he'll be squirming.

if he does make it through the month, expect to be woken up at 12:01 on the first of december with Dick humping your thigh and whining in your ear. he's NOT in control right now, he's way too needy and sensitive, and he's definitely okay with letting you use him to get off- he needs to cum just as bad as you do

gives you the most AMAZING orgasms after waiting a month, he's mounting you like an incubus and rutting into you like his life depends on it until your both whimpering and overstimulated ♥️

he's probably gonna be a little mean too, considering you made him wait soooo long <\\3

"hnhah- ffuck." Dick's soft breath tickles your ear as he nips at the lobe, his hips rocking heavily against yours. "c'mon, baby, you can give me another, please.." his cock twitches against your tummy, tip sticky and wet from previous orgasms.

"Dickie, i just came-" you whine, yet your body betrays you as your hips roll up to meet his. he chuckles breathlessly against the soft column of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses into your sweat-soaked skin. "please, baby? jus' one more, f'me?" his tone is teasing, but you can tell he's desperate as you feel his cockhead twitch again. with a soft giggle, you nod, and Dick wastes no time in aligning himself with your hole. "you ready, hun?"

"mhm," you hum, and he slides in. your hole is already wet from previous orgasms, it had felt too good for Dick to not cum inside, and that only aided his sloppy thrusts as he rutted against you. your eyes flutter closed as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and Dick ducks back down to whisper in your ear as your orgasm draws closer. "so pretty, s'good for me, made me wait so long for this... ffucck- y'gonna cum for me, honey? gonna take it all?"

Jason Todd:

Jason is honestly a wild card, i think it could go a multitude of ways honestly depending on how you feel

when you suggest the idea to him, i either see him being a tiny bit petty and lowkey deciding to fuck you every day of november OR take it as a challenge and being determined to make it through the month with no screw ups.

if it ends up being the latter, than i feel as though Jason has a higher chance of succeeding then losing. i don't think his sex drive is super high, and he's also pretty stubborn, HOWEVER, you are his weak point, and if you end up teasing him or begging him, i can picture him snapping and fucking you

either way, he's at least making it through half the month if not longer.

the only way you'll get him to give in is if your REALLY desperate, because he could never see you needy- so teasing him or pleading with him to fuck you is probably how you can get him to break

i also see him teasing you, but only subtly. he'll wear those low rise sweatpants he knows you like around the house, he's shirtless more often than not, and somehow his hands always seem to find place on your thighs... what lovely coincidences!

Jason struggles more with not fucking you than not being able to masturbate. i honestly don't think he does so very often, so it wouldn't be much of an issue, but not being able to fuck you? not even being able to give you head? drives him insane.

all in all, Jason cares more about your satisfaction than his own. could probably go the whole month without your interference, but is probably pent up by the end of the month

speaking of pent up, he's going to be insane at the end of the month because you made him wait. probably going to be more dominant than usual, BUT he's still really gentle and sweet because he knows your sensitive,,, so its a win!

the first time he cums after no nut november he swears he sees stars, probably praises you to the moon and back over how perfect you are

i think he'd wait until the next day to ravish you, he'd let you both get your sleep, but encourages you both to take the day off and spend the day in bed catching up on lost time. december first is going to be a LOVELY day for you,,,,

"s'that feel good, baby?"

"ffuck- yes Jay, fucking me so good-" you whine into the pillows, drool soaking the fabric as Jason pounds into you from behind. strong arms frame your form as he fucks you, his dick just perfectly touching your g spot/prostate with each thrust.

"aren't you- hnghh- glad you took the day off? relaxed a bit?" Jason huffed, his breath tickling your ear as he tightened his one handed grip on your ass. "y'should let me take care of you more often, especially after waiting so long..." he coos, and you let out a strangled moan as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten faster and faster.

"y'gonna cum for me, pretty?"

"y-es, please, Jay-"

"shh, s'ok, me too, we'll cum together, okay honey?" he soothes, rocking against you as the bed frame quakes.

"gonna fill you up so nice," he murmurs under his breath, white curls plastered to his sweat-slick forehead. "gonna make you cum for every day i couldnt..."

Bruce Wayne:

Bruce is making it through the month, no questions asked. it does not matter how deeply and truly he loves you, this man is IN IT TO WIN IT. he is absolutely making it through the month and will not budge i fear

theres a few nights where he's pent up and irritated after batman-ing and considers giving in, but he never does

when you first suggested NNN to him, he's probably a bit lukewarm to the idea, but whatever makes you happy 🤷 ngl he probably thought you were mad at him and this was a punishment or something at first😭

he honestly didn't think you'd end up actually going through with it, and if you end up giving in at some point in the month he'll definitely feign disappointment

"such a shame, i thought you were challenging me to this...game."

he's absolutely evil when it comes to teasing. he'll come up behind you and press gentle kisses on your neck, his large hands holding a firm grip on your waist, only to pull away with a practiced, professional smile as you begin to curl into his touch <\\3 he also plays up the Brucie Wayne persona, and is a lot more subtly seductive in an attempt to get you to break

keeping a firm hand on your lower back in public, giving you gifts (specifically lingerie, with a note attached that states, "for the end of the month"), and overall being a bit more possessive

when the month is over??? PREPARE. it's late, almost 2AM on december first, and the second he returns from patrolling he's finding you. doesn't even take the batsuit off, hell, he probably fucks you right there in the batcave, bent over the batcomputer. he's a little harsher than usual, and definitely more needy. he also tells you to take the day off, so he can.. spoil you for the entire day <3

let me just say, after so long of abstaining, he FUCKS, and he fucks you hard. you swear your seeing stars with each thrust, and he's genuinely insatiable. probably wants to breed you too... doesn't matter if you can get pregnant or not, he's fucking you full of his cum

the desk beneath you rattles with each thrust, and your thighs tremble as large, gloved hands find purchase on your soft skin. the rough, cold temperature of the leather provides delicious contrast to your lust-warmed skin, and you let out a wanton moan as Bruce thrusts heavy and deep inside.

"you like that, doll? like making me wait?" he practically growls in your ear, and you let out a stuttering moan.

"n-no, please, s'too much-"

"aw, poor thing. can't even take my cock... guess it has been a month after all, you'll need some time to get used to it i suppose." you roll your eyes at his cockiness, but just as you go to spit back a retort, he rolls his hips against your again. you shudder, clenching around him as his pace speeds up.

"so good f'me," he coos, almost cruel in his ministrations as he rubs harsh circles into the soft flesh of your thighs. Bruce's thrusts increase in pace, his tip rearranging your guts as the coil in your stomach begins to tighten.

"o-oh! 'm gonna-"

"fuuck, i know, prince/ss. cum for me," he whispers, moving one hand to the small of your back, pushing you down more firmly against the desk. "you can take it."

[eveysnotebook]

dc characters when their lover is very physically affectionate

includes:

jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, hal jordan, barry allen, wally west, roy harper ‘n koriand’r!

jason todd:

he loves it and hates it. at first, he doesn’t know what to do, he has never really received this kind of soft and loving touch before.

it feels nice but also new and scary, he doesn’t know how to act! he kinda gets all shy and flustered for awhile.

after a couple months of being together he gets more adjusts to it, seeking it out even! he finds himself leaning into your warm and welcoming touch.

every hug or brush of hands makes jason smile and blush, even if it’s barely noticeable.

he starts giving back the same loving touches too, soft, caressing touches and warm kisses become normal, every day things now.

he may brush it off or even act annoyed, but he really loves it.

“stop bothering me” he’d say as he leans into you.

he really loves it and is so appreciative and grateful <33

dick grayson:

he’s naturally a very touchy person, giving friends big, warm hugs. but when you give him a hug first? he’s head over heels.

“c’mere! you look like your wanting a hug.”

he lives for every moment you touch him, whether it be brief sand accidentally or longing and lovingly.

he always leans into your warmth, giving back the same loving energy with the cutest smile!

he takes this as a green light to give you even more loving touches, more hugs, kisses and hand holding!

he’ll always find a reason to touch you, and he hopes you do the same.

tim drake:

he acts nonchalant, as if it isn’t that big of a deal, but he really loves it.

it’s not often he’s given warm hugs or soft touches, so it’s something special he has with you!

he finds it hard to give the same touches to you at first, but he slowly warms up to the idea.

he gets flustered whenever you slip your hand into his own.

“This is okay. just don’t distract me.”

hal jordan:

I feel like he’s already big on being physically affectionate, so he’s happy when your the same!

he love love loves when you initiate touches first, makes him feel special and happy!

knows that you are okay with being touched alot, so he randomly gives you big kisses and hugs.

“your just obsessed with me, aren’t you?” He’d tease whenever you have your hands all over him.

barry allen:

a little flustered at first. he isn’t really used to it! he most definitely adores it though and tends to seek it out.

he’ll start brushing his hand across yours as you walk together. as if a silent reminder to take his hand.

loves it when you kiss his cheek randomly. expect a kiss in return!

“uh- what’s this for?” he’d ask the first time you randomly gave him a big, warm hug. he’d hug back, although slightly awkwardly.

he feels safe and at home in your hands <3

wally west:

great! he lives for your attention. he’s confident enough to take your hand in his when he feels like it, but if you touch him first? he’s flattered, happy, over the moon.

he wants you to hold his face, he loves it. feeling the warmth of your hand take over his freckled cheeks.

“aww- baby! someone’s clingy.” he’d say with a smile before hugging you back even tighter. you laugh at his hypocrisy.

roy harper:

I feel at first he would be a it standoffish at first. why are you hugging him as if you’d known eachother for ages? acting as if he’s something special and to be held gently.

he blushes every time you take his face in your hands, especially when he’s taken off guard.

“ ‘m not blush, it’s just warm in here!”

he gets used to it though, and returns the warm touches.

grabbing your hand in a busy street, or seeking you out in his sleep are some simple signs of his adoration for you and your touchiness.

Koriand’r / starfire:

Kori is warm. she is the sun itself. but when your warmth meets hers, she is stunned. a soft touch makes her face break out into a wide smile.

she loves the way you touch her. your hands gliding over her arms, softly holding her hands, settling on her knee. she feels extra warm every time she feels your hands snake around her.

“oh! this..this is nice.” she’d say the first time you wrap her tightly in your arms. when she hugs back, she ever so slightly lifts you off of the ground.

“I could get used to this.” she tells you one night, both of your limbs tangled together.

you will always make her feel loved.

ignore the fact kori’s was the most well written lmao

what can I say I love her 🧡

request open btw!!

[demonic0angel]

DP x DC Prompt: Sam decides to hire Poison Ivy to use her powers for actually constructive things (Growing crops, reforesting areas, breeding new plants for commercial purposes, and studying how her powers work). Ivy actually likes doing it, and Sam and her friends.

Ivy was humming as she worked. Harley watched her for a moment, before she asked, “What’s got you so happy?”

“I got another job from that Manson girl. Sam Manson,” she clarified. One of her plants gave a low grumble and nuzzled her palm.

Harley clapped. “Ooh! That’s great! What does she have you doing now?”

Ivy smiled as she turned around and presented her phone to Harley, where the screen was being shown. It was a chat between her and an anonymous donor, though it had a picture of a purple flower as a profile pic. “She wants me to modify current crops in order to grow in bad climates and soil. This way, crop productivity increases and hopefully, less land will be needed in order to grow them. This also decreases the prices and makes it easier for people to buy so—”

Ivy rambled on for quite a while, while Harley watched her with a lovesick expression. By the time Ivy had realized that she was talking for too long, she had already spent an hour and a half just talking about how Sam’s ideas would revolutionize the world.

Ivy flushed green. Harley cooed, “Aww, she seems darling! Did you ever get to meet up with her?”

“No,” Ivy sighed, “but I would like to, one day. Together, I believe that we can completely change the world for the better of nature.”

Harley snickered and teased, “You better be careful, I’ll get jealous!”

Ivy gave her a fond look. “I think you’ll like her and her friends. They also hate clowns.”

“Seriously?! Wow, I think we’re best friends already!” Harley said cheerfully. “So when can we meet?”

Ivy pointed to the phone. “After this job, I’ll ask. Hopefully, once we meet, we can make even bigger plans to completely reform conservation laws and make bigger, better, and more efficient laws.”

[l0vergirlwrites]

hidden talents ; spencer reid

synopsis: during a cozy night in with spencer, you both reveal your hidden talents to one another.

warnings: established relationship with fem!reader, silly hidden talents, so much fluff i could die, kissing & sweet touches, season 6 spencer in mind lowkey

note: i wrote this while listening to ‘north’ by clairo!

another note: i promise i’m working on the requests in my asks box! just taking longer than normal (reminder that requests are open!)

it had been a particularly cold day for the east coast, the arctic mass of freezing air drifted all the way into the apartment in dc where spencer & you reside, freshly showered under warm streams of water, dressed in pyjamas under a few extra blankets for good measure.

nights like this were rare—uninterrupted moments shared with just him & you, his left hand caressing one of your thighs under the blankets while his right one held a special cover version of steinbeck’s east of eden in his lap.

you were busy drawing patterns into the fuzz of the top blanket, right cheek pressed into spencer’s left arm as you drew leaves, flowers, & swirly symbols, watching the blanket leave shiny remnants of your artwork. a tv show you had started binging played softly on the medium sized tv spencer mounted on the wall last month, but you were growing bored.

“do you have any hidden talents?” you randomly asked once you lowered the tv’s volume more, placing the remote back on the nightstand before turning to spencer.

he gave you a quirked brow under his glasses, sliding his bookmark to where he left off before shutting the hardcover. “i don’t know. does having three phd’s & an affinity for magic tricks count?”

with a shake of your head & a chuckle, your right hand propped your head up on the pillows, free hand rubbing spencer’s bicep in a cruelly sweet way.

“people—including me—already know those things, silly” you pointed out, gasping when he squeezed your thigh in a funny spot. it didn’t hurt, just made you smile wider.

“c’mon, there has to be something you’ve kept hidden under your sleeve” you pleaded, tummy turning when spencer looked at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

you were swooning hard.

but he’d argue that he was swooning harder.

“let me think…” he pouted his lips in thought, genuinely wracking his brain for something to appease you.

“i can talk with my mouth closed” he blurted, turning back to you & seeing your intrigued gaze.

“like jessie j?”.

“yes, like jessie j”.

“show me!” you demanded with excitement, sitting up a little straighter for the big reveal.

closing his mouth, you watched spencer say a few sentences with his mouth completely closed, his lips shut tight like they were glued together. the face he was making was silly & cute, & you were genuinely shocked at how clear you could hear him talking.

clapping lightly with delight, you scooted closer to him (as if you weren’t already tucked into his side like a magnet), cheering him on for his cool talent.

“how have you kept this hidden from me for five years? five whole years?!” you teased, seeing the effect you had on him live when his neck & cheeks grew pink & hot.

ducking his head, spencer shrugged. “it never came up”.

“you’re forgiven” you kissed spencer’s cheek, kissing it again when he leaned closer for another. you’d give him all the kisses in the world anyways.

“so, what about you? what’s your hidden talent?” he squeezed your thigh again, ready for you to reciprocate with something exciting.

“i can make a trumpet sound with my mouth”.

“really?”.

“you don’t believe me?” you faked surprised hurt.

“i’ll believe it when i see it, sweetheart” it was his turn to tease you now, chest tightening when you scrunched your nose a little with a smile.

that action always made him swoon somehow.

“okay, okay,” you rubbed his bicep again, preparing yourself. “but don’t look at me at first, or else i’ll start laughing & ruin it. please”.

at least you were polite.

with eyes closed, spencer patiently waited, & when he heard the trumpet like sound come from your lips, his eyes automatically opened in intrigue. because how did it sound at least sixty-percent like the real thing?

you proudly trumpeted the tune of ella fitzgerald’s song ‘at last’, some notes were off key but the heart was there. & spencer was amazed.

“that sure beats my talent by a long shot” he clapped too, laughing when you cupped your hurting cheeks. smiling too much hurt in the best way.

“you should do that at parties sometime” he teased lovingly, pulling you to his chest so he could feel your laugh vibrate through his skin.

lifting your head back up after a moment, feeling his hand drift through your hair, you played squinted. “you think you’re so funny, spence…”.

the look in his eyes was all gentle, the lamp light beside him casting a little honey glow to them. “you’ve always said you loved my jokes”.

you sighed, letting your face fall back to the cotton pyjama shirt he wore, unable to hide the fuzziness growing inside you. “i do”.

his looks were killer, sending your body into a frenzy of love & jittery emotions—the good type of jittery.

“are you too tired to read me some steinbeck?” you asked after a moment of content silence, his hands musing your hair while one of yours drew patterns onto the crook of his neck.

“never” he replied happily, letting yourself get comfortable on his chest before reaching for the book on the nightstand.

“wait”.

before spencer could grab it, your lips meshed with his, eyes shutting immediately as his hands cupped your cheeks, falling down the hedge maze of your touch before pulling away, his lips pressing two kisses on each cheek good measure.

“i’m never gonna get tired of that” you murmured as you got comfortable again, lips tingling from mingling with his. you’ve kissed spencer millions of times by now, but every kiss feels like the first—addictively sweet.

spencer clearly felt the same, because he couldn’t help but peck a few kisses to your forehead before opening the book to pick up where he left off.

his murmur of “me either” confirmed it too.

[ramp-it-up]

Celebrate

Summary: Bucky gives you a gift for your birthday. But he gets the reward.

Word count: 2.5 K

Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

A/N: Definitely on my Bucky bullshit for a minute. Just block me now. Or, read, respond, and reblog! This is my bit of birthday self indulgence and may be based on real gift requests ;0. Love you heauxes! This is connected to Charm, and Claim, but can be read alone! I'm so down bad for these two. This has no Thunderbolts* spoilers.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Teacher Reader, Congressman Bucky, Dom!Bucky, but also Subby!Bucky, so switch! Bucky? Back/butt rugs, fingering f receiving oral, raw p in v, breeding kink, SIZE KINK, multiple orgasms, woman on top, orgasm denial, overstimulation, praise kink. begging, female masturbation, The L word!, tiny bit of the Sargeant kink, nicknames Charm and Baby, Basically pwp.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You and Bucky had a rhythm now: every other weekend.

One trip to DC, one to Brooklyn. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. This weekend was your birthday. And you wanted out of the city.

So you took the train south, and by the time you reached his townhouse, the air smelled like lemon, butter, and something just slightly burnt, because Bucky insisted on cooking and refused help.

It still tasted amazing, because he made it with something neither of you had named yet.

Love.

He leaned in the doorway, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, wearing that smug little smirk like he knew he’d already won the night. You were curled on his couch in nothing but his t-shirt, a glass of wine balanced on your thigh, and the last bite of cake melting on your tongue.

“Good birthday?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, then stretched just enough to make your point clear, your shirt, his t-shirt, riding up on your thighs a little as you groaned softly. 

“Mmm. Almost perfect.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and sauntered over, hand bracing the back of the couch, body heat curling around you.

“Almost? Baby, I cooked for you. I let you win at cards. I didn’t even complain when you dragged me through that bookstore for forty-five minutes.”

You smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. 

“And I appreciate all of that. But…”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “But?”

You set your wine down, pouting up at him just enough to play.

“I was thinking... maybe a back rub?”

He snorted. “You mean a butt rub.”

“I meant what I said.” Your tone was innocent. Your smile wasn’t. “It’s not my fault if your hands wander.”

He leaned down until his lips were brushing your temple, his voice a gravel-soft murmur.

“Sweetheart, when it’s your birthday, my hands are yours to do whatever you want with.”

His mouth found the side of your neck before you could come up with something clever to say, slow kisses trailing heat down your skin. You shivered, arching into him.

“C’mon,” he murmured, already lifting you in his arms. 

“Let me spoil you a little more.”

In the bedroom, he knelt behind you on the bed, thighs straddling yours, big hands working into your lower back beneath the hem of his shirt. His touch was slow at first, thumbs tracing your spine, palms kneading your lower back. But when your hips rolled back into him just a little too deliberately, he groaned.

“This what you had in mind, baby?” he asked, breath catching as you arched again, teasing. His hands slid lower, over the curve of your hips, then further, until he was massaging your ass like he owned it, and come to think of it, maybe he did.

You hummed. 

“Exactly what I wanted.”

His thumbs pressed into the base of your spine, but the heat in his touch betrayed him. 

He wasn't thinking about knots or tension anymore. He was thinking about the way your skin warmed under his palms. The way your hips tilted back to meet him. The little sound you made when he kneaded the underside of your butt.

“You really gonna pretend you just wanted a massage, Baby?” he murmured, mouth grazing your ear now. 

“That all you were after?”

You tilted your head to the side, giving him access, knowing exactly what that would do to him. 

“Didn’t say how I wanted it to end.”

His fingers glided from your lower back, over your beautiful ass, roving intimately. He massaged your thighs, dipping between them to rub your soft pussy through your panties, teasing.

"Turn over, Charm." His voice was a rasp. "Let me see my girl." 

Bucky flipped you gently onto your back, blue eyes dark now, his pupils blown as he looked down at you. The shirt had ridden high, and he pushed it higher, his knuckles dragging against your soft skin.  He ran his fingers over your nipples, tugging at them softly before he cupped your breasts, drawing every shiver from you.

"Open your legs." 

He ran his hands along your thighs and pulled you towards the edge of the bed. 

“I want to see that pretty pussy.”

He took his time, kissing down your torso, eyes never leaving yours until he had to close them, groaning as his mouth found the place just below your belly button, where you always shuddered for him.

“You smell so delicious,” he muttered, voice wrecked, like he was already unraveling. “You know what that does to me?”

You arched up in response, and he didn't wait. He hooked your panties down with a practiced kind of urgency, but still kissed every inch he uncovered. 

Every part of you felt claimed before he’d even touched you where you needed him most.

And when his mouth finally settled between your thighs, when his tongue licked a long, slow stripe and his hands held your hips down, your breath caught so hard it was a sob.

“Oh my god, Bucky!”

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice muffled, his mouth relentless. “Louder. I want the neighbors to know whose birthday it is.”

You were already shaking. He was too good at this, too practiced at making you fall apart for him. It was his favorite way to give. 

Not diamonds. Not champagne. Just you, undone.

Your fingers laced through his hair, pulling. He groaned into you and doubled down, like he needed it just as bad. Like this was his gift, too.

You came hard, trembling under him, his name a broken prayer on your lips. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down, just licked and sucked until you were shaking under his mouth, coming so hard it almost hurt.

Then he slid up your body, grinning. He only stopped to kiss you again, mouth slick, eyes wild, cock heavy against your thigh.

"You’re fucking stunning. I need you dripping with my cum."

He slid over you, teasing you with his thick cock as he rubbed against your folds.

“God, you’re so wet already.”

“Wonder why,” you whispered, grinning.

That earned you a low growl. Vibranium braced your hip, the other hand fisted in the sheets beside your head, and then a guttural moan ripped out of you as he eased in, taking it slow because he was so damn big. 

The sensation was overwhelming, and you trembled on the bed, breathing deeply.

“Jesus, Bucky!”

“Yeah?” he rasped, eyes locked on yours. “That what you wanted? My cock for your birthday?”

You nodded, dizzy with it, but he was already moving, already moving his hips in that perfect rhythm that made you whimper every time he pulled out only to fill you again and again. Deep, rolling thrusts, each one carving you open just right.

"Say it," he groaned. "Tell me what you need."

"You," you gasped, wrapping your legs around him. "Harder. Just don't stop."

He went slowly at first, grabbing your hair in his fist as he thrust in and out of you, stroking your squeezing pussy with his pulsing cock. You arched up against him and he gave you more, everything you could take. 

He thrust harder. Rougher. His rhythm breaking just enough to show how close he was, how much he needed this.

Bucky’s control started to fray at the edges. You could tell in the way he cursed into your neck, in the way his rhythm started to stutter, rougher now, deeper as his hips snapped into yours.

“Gonna give it to you,” he promised, and he did, he gave you everything. The weight of him, the heat, the unspoken love in every thrust. He fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him feel right.

Because you were.

You met him stroke for stroke, fingers digging into his back, nails raking as you got closer again.

“Gonna come for me again, birthday girl?” he panted, barely holding on. 

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, please, Bucky, I’m right there…”

“God, I wanna feel it. Wanna feel you squeeze me just like that, fuck, gonna cum inside you…”

And you did.

And he did.  

You shattered underneath him with a cry, body clenching tight around him, massaging the length of him in firm tugs until he lost it. He followed fast, burying himself deep as he came with a raw, broken groan that sounded like your name.

He didn't pull out right away; he was still hard.

“I want to do this all day and all night, forever, Charm.” 

You took his head in your hands and looked him in those beautiful eyes.

“Gonna give you what you need, Bucky.”

He broke, whispering a reverent, “I love you,” for the first time.

You grinned back at him and whispered it back. 

“I know. And I love you, too.”

Bucky laugh/sobbed and then proceeded to work the waves of your orgasm further, harder, until the waves of your next climax tugged tightly around his cock and he filled you with more hot bursts that made you come again. 

It was amazing.

His hands gripped you possessively, playing with your nipples and your clit, memorizing every perfect curve and groove, until you were coming yet again. Finally, he lay there, panting, his forehead pressed to yours, sweat-damp hair falling in his eyes as he kissed you like he didn’t want to let you go.

His smile turned lazy, confident, until you flipped him gently onto his back and straddled him, that same glint he wore now reflecting in your eyes.

“Did you get everything you wanted?”

“I can think of another gift I’d like…” you murmured, rolling your hips just enough to make him curse, “I want to ruin you.”

Bucky blinked up at you, caught between reverence and sheer, helpless lust.

“Jesus, Charm…”

“Do you understand, Sargeant?” you asked, dragging your nails down his chest, scraping his nipple deliciously. You took his arms and guided them above his head. 

“Now, keep your hands up here. Do. Not. Move. Understand?”

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded, voice gone, pupils blown.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“Good boy.”

You rolled your hips down against his watching the way Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, how he bit back a moan, hands twitching where you’d pinned them to the bed.

But he didn’t move. Not without permission.

You smiled, pleased, and leaned in to kiss along his throat, leaving a mark just below his jaw.

“That’s better,” you murmured. 

“All this strength, all this control, and you give it to me.”

His breath hitched. “It’s always yours.”

You sat back on his thighs. Your hand slid between your bodies, wrapping around his cock, still hot and half-hard, soaking wet with your combined fluids, and already starting to throb again beneath your touch.

“Then let me take what’s mine.”

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, until he was fully hard again, aching for it, whining softly in his throat. You watched him fall apart under you, helpless and obedient, eyes glassy with need.

“Look at you,” you whispered, lining yourself up and sinking down on him in one slow, deliberate motion. “So fucking gorgeous when you let go.”

His groan was deep, desperate, like he was barely holding on.

You rode him slowly at first, then harder when you felt him start to twitch beneath you, like he couldn’t take it anymore. You leaned in close, lips brushing his.

“Don’t come unless I say.”

He whimpered, eyes wide, and you grinned as you rolled your hips again.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “God, yes.”

You rocked harder, nails dragging down his chest again, and you felt him tremble underneath you. But he held on. Just like you told him to.

“Good boy,” you whispered, then gave him a filthy kiss. 

“Now tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” Bucky choked out. “I belong to you, Charm”

“Damn right you do.”

And then you let him break.

“Cum for me, Bucky.”

That was all it took.

The second the words left your mouth, he came with a wrecked moan, his entire body arching beneath you, cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. You didn’t slow. You kept riding him, hips grinding down to milk every last drop, your cunt squeezing him mercilessly until he was gasping for breath.

But you weren’t done.

Not even close.

His arms trembled where you still had them pinned. He looked dazed, flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

You leaned forward and kissed him, soft at first, then biting his lower lip as you clenched around him again.

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you?”

His breath caught.

“Baby, fuck, I don’t think I can…”

“You can. And you will.”

You pulled your hips up slowly, feeling his cock twitch inside you, still half hard, but oversensitive. You dragged your nails down his chest, then planted your hands on either side of his head, hips rolling with calculated precision.

“I want it again. Want to feel you get hard inside me while I use you.”

He groaned like he was in pain, but his cock was already thickening again, fighting through the aftershock to obey.

“That’s it,” you whispered, biting along his jaw. “Good fucking boy.”

You moved with ruthless grace now, your control absolute. You rode him like his only purpose was to fill you, please you, break for you. And he did. He took it all, shaking, panting, drowning in the way you fucked him.

And when you came again, clenching hard around him, moaning into his mouth, he whimpered like it hurt, and then begged to cum again.

“Please Charm, let me, please, let me come inside you again…”

You smiled wickedly.

“Not yet.”

You leaned back, hips still moving, watching the tension build in him again, watching how badly he wanted to obey. You pressed a palm to his chest, and let your free hand slip between your legs to rub your clit in tight, practiced circles, moaning shamelessly, knowing exactly what it did to him when you took control like this.

Bucky’s eyes were fixed to the spot and he bit his lip as he watched you.

And finally, when your breath started to break, when your thighs trembled and you could feel another climax building, you gave him his reward.

“Now, Bucky. Fill me.”

He shattered beneath you with a hoarse, broken cry, coming so hard it sent your orgasm crashing into you too. Your pussy clenched violently around him, drawing him deeper, milking him again as you rode both of you through it, grinding every drop out of him.

You collapsed forward, breathless and flushed, your body humming from the high of it, sweat-damp skin sticking to his.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you the second you let him, trembling and blissed out, lips finding your neck.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, voice raw. “I think you just rewired my brain. Supposed to be your birthday, not mine.”

You laughed softly, stroking his jaw, and kissed him with a slow, satisfied hum.

“Best Birthday ever.”

He smiled, boyish and ruined and beautiful. He kissed your shoulder.

“You sure? I've got more planned."

You hummed, fingers drifting down his back, nails grazing his skin.

“Hmmm. Well, we’ve got all weekend."

"Gonna give you everything you ever wanted, Charm."

"You already have, my Darling. My Bucky. My love."

[bytemee]

SECOND NATURE 3 — kim minjeong.

synopsis. teasing you has become her favorite hobby—especially now that she knows what makes you tick.

pairing. winter x fem!added!member!reader

warning(s). fluffy, winter is a tease, reader is kinda a loser lol, and let me know if there's more!

words. 1.5k

authors note. i know i said rendezvous update would be next but...chat...please...c'mon

navigation. main masterlist. request. part one. part two.

you're sitting behind the camera during a live, scrolling through chat with half an eye and munching on a snack. it’s an idle thing—minjeong’s doing the talking, answering questions from my while you're practically here to babysit so she doesn't spoil anything about your group's upcoming comeback.

"any artist you’d want to collab with in the future? oh, hm..." minjeong pauses, tapping her chin in thought.

you pause your chewing and lean forward, curious to hear her response. "iu."

did she just—? iu? you weren't expecting her to say you, obviously not; you’re not even a soloist. but still. you stare at her like she just betrayed the nation. she glances your way and grins at you, all teeth, and it makes you pout a little. how can she just casually say it like that, like she's not trying to crush your dreams with the simple act of mentioning someone else's name?

“wow,” you mutter, loud enough for the mic to pick up. “i thought you’d say me.”

minjeong’s grin doesn’t falter, though. if anything, it widens.

"i mean," she says. "of course i'd love to collab with our beloved y/n, but there are many other artists who are more worthy than her."

"yah!" you yell.

game day.

the finals. your team made it. you’ve got the match queued up on the big screen, snacks on the table, and the couch set like a shrine to your club. you’re wearing the jersey, the scarf, and the pride of someone who’s watched this team since they were six.

you don’t expect minjeong to watch with you. she never usually does.

but then she walks out of her room—wearing your team’s shirt.

your heart physically skips a beat.

you stare. you forget the snacks. you forget your name.

she plops next to you like it’s nothing. “who’s playing again?”

“you planned this,” you say, dazed.

“planned what?” she asks, blinking up at you, pure innocence.

“you’re evil,” you whisper.

the game starts. you don’t see any of it. not with her shoulder brushing yours, not with her humming the theme song mockingly. when your team scores, you yell. when they win, you jump to your feet—and then immediately point at her.

“you’re my lucky charm now.”

“oh?” she grins. “does this mean i get free snacks for life?”

“no,” you say seriously. “it means you wear that shirt forever. that’s a rule now.”

you’re talking to a staff member a few days later, telling some stupid comic book theory you have about multiverse timelines in dc. it's a nice little chat, casual. he's listening intently. it's fun, even though your voice is getting scratchy and you're so into the discussion you're using your hands too much.

you’ve never had a proper conversation about it with anyone here, and it feels refreshing to just get it all out, even if it’s way more complicated than it probably needs to be.

“…so if you think about it, right? there’s always a version of every hero, but what gets tricky is the overlapping timelines. like, if the flash changes something in one universe, it doesn’t just affect that timeline. it causes a ripple effect, but it doesn’t always stick. that’s why they bring in different versions of themselves to fix it, but then they risk creating even more divergent timelines. it’s like this whole cycle. some timelines… they just collapse in on themselves. boom. gone. do you see what i mean? it’s like—wow."

your hands are flying through the air now, cutting through the air as you use gestures to explain the theory. the staff member nods, laughing along, clearly amused and equally intrigued by your nerd rambling.

"imagine a timeline where wonder woman was raised by a human family instead of the amazons, or, or, or… if batman actually had powers? what do you think would happen to the universe? would that cause a catastrophic event? or maybe there are a thousand other batmen without powers that are basically the real version of batman. that'd be hilarious, but then we'd have to find out what caused the divergence. what if it was something stupid like his parents not dying? would he still become batman? or maybe he'd become a villain! i think that'd be cool, to see the dark, evil batman."

suddenly, there's an arm wrapping around your waist. you stop mid-sentence, freezing like a deer caught in headlights, as minjeong's fragrance fills your senses.

you glance up, blinking rapidly, trying to get your bearings, but she’s just there, her cheek resting against your shoulder as she whispers, "i see you're getting really passionate about this whole multiverse thing."

you feel the heat rise in your cheeks instantly. the hand that had been gesturing wildly moments ago now freezes mid-air, awkwardly hovering as you scramble to pull yourself together. "i—uh, yeah, i just—i'm, you know, just explaining it. nothing big."

minjeong chuckles, and you feel the vibrations of it against your shoulder. "you know,” she starts, “i didn’t realize you could talk for hours about comic books.”

you’re about to try and make a joke, but then you catch sight of the staff member beside you. he's clearly holding back a smile, looking between the two of you like he’s enjoying the show. you quickly lower your hand, your cheeks growing even warmer, and you mumble, “i, uh, i wasn’t talking that much…”

“you were,” she says, her grin growing wider, and that’s when it happens—she gives you another little squeeze, leaning in just a touch closer, her face tilting up toward your ear as she adds, “you know, you’ve been going on for, like, twenty minutes now. you must be really into it. kinda cute.”

you freeze again, your mouth open but no words coming out. her voice is soft, sweet, almost a murmur, and when you turn to look at her, her gaze is even softer. it doesn't help that she's standing so close, her breath ghosting over your skin. it's warm. inviting. her arm tightens around your waist as her lips curve into a smile, and you can't stop staring at her mouth.

and subsequently she whispers just loud enough for only you to hear, "i'm still your number one, though, right?”

you nod dumbly.

(of course, it's always her.)

after the awards show, you're exhausted and starving but still wrapped in your black suit, tie loosened but not gone. you and minjeong are bickering in the living room about dinner. the other members are scrolling delivery apps. you’re losing your mind.

“tteokbokki is a solid option,” you argue.

“you always say that,” minjeong replies, arms crossed.

“because it’s true! it is a solid option. and there are good ones nearby. and they deliver. it's easy and delicious, and we can get the extra cheese option. we need comfort food. please. come on. tteokbokki is the way to go here."

you stare her down, and she stares back. there's a battle happening in her eyes. you know she wants the same thing, but you're willing to fight tooth and nail for this.

she steps forward. grabs your tie.

pulls you down. face-to-face.

“we’re getting jjajangmyeon,” she says softly.

you forget every word you’ve ever known.

“cool?” she adds, lips inches from yours.

you nod. or black out. maybe both.

she lets go. turns to the others like nothing happened.

you stand there, gay-panicking like your body was struck by lightning.

you don’t post on bubble often. mostly updates, the occasional backstage pic, and once—because your members forced you—a blurry photo of your dog in a hat. you like the anonymity. when you do post, it's usually about a song you've listened to on repeat or an outfit you can't get enough of. but today, you decide to give your fans an update about your day.

you’re outside the practice room, waiting for aeri, as she wanted to grab dinner together. it's a rare moment of quiet, and you’re still in your sweats from the late practice that went way too long. your hair’s a mess, tucked under your favorite sock hat that you got custom-made for you last christmas.

you pull out your phone, unlock it, and stare at the screen for a minute. your fingers hover over the keyboard as you debate how to phrase the update.

you type quickly, your fingers moving with ease:

“sock hat. \^o^/ here's a photo of me i took before practice. how’s everyone else doing today?”

you pause, rereading it a few times, then hit send. just as you set your phone down and lean back, the notifications start popping up.

KARINA 💙: what are you doing

you blink. pause. your brain scrambles to remember—did you post that on bubble or—

oh no.

y/n: lol wait a minute y/n: how do i delete

NING: this is the bubble groupchat grandma 😭

y/n: wait when did we have a group chat?

y/n: can MY see this???

NING: yes

you nearly drop your phone trying to cover your face, heart racing like you just got caught doing something illegal.

winter: how do i save

winter: sock hat supremacy… you’re too cute !

y/n: …

KARINA 💙: …winters fav fashion icon everyone 🧦🎩

winter: you guys don’t understand how serious she is about that hat. i’ve seen it in three different colors.

NING: i saw it walk out of her suitcase on its own once

y/n: jealousy is a disease and i hope you all get well soon ❤️

winter: only jealous the sock hat gets to be that close to you 🙂‍↕️

y/n: yeah that’s enough

y/n: i’m logging off now

y/n: bye MY o(TヘTo)

GISELLE: sock hat aespa’s sixth member confirmed? GISELLE: wait are we still getting dinner? GISELLE: hello?

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara & Wally West

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce notices the injury immediately; his sharp, calculating eyes miss nothing. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone low but with an edge of worry that only someone close to him might detect. He takes your hand gently but firmly, examining the bandage with the practiced ease of someone who’s patched himself up countless times. “What happened?” he asks, his voice even, though his jaw tightens. You explain it was a minor accident during your renovation project, but he doesn’t look convinced.

- Without a word, Bruce retrieves a medical kit and kneels in front of you. His movements are efficient, his touch steady but surprisingly gentle. “This could’ve been worse,” he says as he rewraps the bandage, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes your heart ache. “You need to be more careful.” It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a command born of a deep fear he rarely voices.

- “I’m helping you finish this,” he declares, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His presence is commanding, as always, and there’s no room for argument. Watching Bruce work is like watching a master strategist; every movement is calculated, every decision deliberate. Despite his seriousness, he pauses occasionally to ask if you’re okay, his concern manifesting in small but meaningful ways.

- As you work together, Bruce’s reserved demeanor softens slightly. He shares stories from his own mishaps at Wayne Manor, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask. “Alfred still teases me about the time I tried to fix a chandelier,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s in these moments that you see the man behind the Bat—the man who loves you fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.

- That evening, as you sit in the newly completed space, Bruce wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You mean everything to me,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. “I can’t lose you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and firm against your skin. Bruce’s love is steadfast, protective, and unyielding—a shield against the darkness that surrounds him.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark’s face falls the moment he notices your injury. “What happened?” he asks, his voice filled with concern. His large, gentle hands take yours, his thumb brushing softly against the bandage. When you explain it was just a small accident during your renovation, his brow furrows in worry. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “I would’ve been here in seconds.”

- He insists on checking your hand, his touch impossibly gentle. “I know it’s not serious, but even small injuries can hurt,” he says, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. As he examines the wound, his movements are deliberate, careful—a reflection of the restraint he always practices to keep his immense strength in check.

- “I’m not letting you finish this alone,” Clark declares, his easy smile returning. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his strength and speed make quick work of the tasks, but he’s careful to include you in the process. “You know, you’re pretty amazing for taking this on yourself,” he says, his admiration clear. “But maybe next time, let me do the heavy lifting.”

- Clark fills the room with his presence, his laughter ringing out as he shares stories of his childhood on the farm. “Pa used to say I could fix anything, but I don’t think he meant it literally,” he jokes, his grin infectious. His positivity is contagious, turning the task into a joyful experience rather than a chore.

- As the day winds down, Clark pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice soft. “You’re my world, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” His love is vast and unwavering, a force of nature as steady and comforting as the sun.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry is at your side before you even realize he’s noticed your injury. “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern as he gently lifts your hand. His blue eyes dart to the bandage, then back to your face. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he teases, but his worry is evident. “How’d this happen?”

- In a blur, he’s retrieved the first aid kit, his hands moving at super-speed to clean and rewrap your wound. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he says with a wink, though his focus is absolute. Barry’s always been quick—literally and emotionally—but when it comes to you, he takes his time, ensuring every detail is perfect. “You’ve got to let me know when you need help,” he says, his tone soft but sincere.

- “Alright, you’re officially benched,” Barry announces with a grin. “I’m finishing this for you.” He’s a whirlwind of energy as he tackles the project, moving so fast that you can barely keep track. But he makes sure to slow down just enough to include you, cracking jokes and asking your opinion at every step.

- Barry’s lighthearted nature turns the renovation into a fun adventure. “You know, if this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, I might have a future in carpentry,” he says, laughing as he perfectly aligns a frame in a fraction of a second. His joy is infectious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s earlier chaos.

- At the end of the day, Barry pulls you into his arms, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re my lightning rod,” he says softly, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. “I need you safe, always.” His love is fast and electrifying, but it’s also deeply grounding—a steady current that ties him to you, no matter how quickly the world moves around him.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s gaze sharpens the moment she sees your bandaged hand. “What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but filled with concern. She moves closer, taking your hand in hers with a warrior’s precision and a lover’s tenderness. When you explain the accident, she frowns, her lips pressing into a determined line. “You should have called for me,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

- She kneels before you, her hands strong yet gentle as she examines your injury. “Even the smallest wounds must be treated with care,” she says, her tone carrying the wisdom of centuries. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are deliberate, each one filled with a quiet reverence for your well-being. “Your safety matters to me,” she adds, her eyes meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

- “Come,” Diana says, rising gracefully to her feet. “We will finish this together.” She takes the lead with effortless strength and grace, her presence commanding yet reassuring. Watching her work is mesmerizing; every movement is precise, every decision thoughtful. “This is good work you’ve started,” she says, her voice warm with pride. “But let me ease your burden.”

- Diana shares stories of Themyscira as you work, her voice rich with history and passion. “On my island, we build with our hands and our hearts,” she says, her smile radiant. “Each task is an opportunity to honor the strength within us.” Her words inspire you, her belief in your capabilities unwavering.

- That evening, Diana draws you into a gentle embrace, her arms strong and protective. “You are precious to me,” she says, her voice a soft melody. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if to seal her vow. Diana’s love is fierce and enduring, a flame that burns brightly and warmly, illuminating every corner of your heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur notices the bandage on your hand the moment he walks through the door, his sharp, sea-green eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened, love?” he asks, his deep voice steady but tinged with worry. When you explain the accident, he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re as stubborn as the tides, you know that?” he says, though his expression softens as he takes your hand in his rough but gentle grip.

- “Let me see,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He inspects your injury carefully, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “It’s not bad, but you’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, his voice filled with a protective edge. Arthur’s care is practical, but there’s an underlying tenderness that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you.

- “Alright, you’re done for the day,” he declares, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll handle the rest.” Despite your protests, Arthur’s determination is unyielding. Watching him work is a marvel; his strength makes heavy tasks look effortless, but he’s surprisingly meticulous, his movements precise and deliberate. “This is easy compared to wrangling sea monsters,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

- As he works, Arthur regales you with tales of Atlantis, his deep voice resonating like the waves. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mera and I rebuilt the coral spires after a storm?” he asks, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. His stories are vivid and captivating, his love for his home—and for you—evident in every word.

- That evening, Arthur pulls you into his arms, his embrace as warm and encompassing as the ocean itself. “You scared me,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “You’re my anchor, and I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to soothe away all your worries. Arthur’s love is as vast and enduring as the sea, a force of nature that surrounds and protects you.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal’s easygoing demeanor shifts the moment he notices the bandage on your hand. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he takes your hand gently. His green eyes scan the wound, his expression a mix of worry and amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?” he teases, though his grip tightens protectively.

- “Alright, let me play doctor,” he says with a wink, summoning a glowing green construct of a first aid kit. Hal’s touch is careful as he rewraps your bandage, his usual bravado giving way to surprising precision. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says softly, his tone carrying a weight that shows how much he cares.

- “Looks like I’m your personal handyman today,” Hal declares, conjuring a glowing hammer with a flourish. He tackles the project with his trademark confidence, his constructs turning the mundane task into something almost magical. “See? Easy,” he says, flashing you a cocky grin. “You’ve got the best in the business on your side.”

- As he works, Hal keeps you entertained with his endless banter and larger-than-life stories. “There was this one time on Oa…” he begins, spinning a tale that’s equal parts unbelievable and hilarious. His humor lightens the atmosphere, and his laughter is infectious, making even the simplest moments feel special.

- Later, as you sit together under the soft glow of his ring, Hal wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You know, you’re my reason to keep coming back to Earth,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t want anything happening to you.” His love is like his willpower—unshakable, glowing brightly and guiding you through even the darkest times.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- “Whoa, hold up—what happened to your hand?” Oliver asks, his sharp gaze landing on your bandaged injury. Before you can brush it off, he’s already by your side, gently taking your hand in his. “You didn’t think to call me?” he teases, though his voice carries a hint of genuine worry. “I could’ve handled this in no time.”

- He grabs the first aid kit, his hands surprisingly deft as he unwraps and rebandages your wound. “You’ve got to be more careful, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I can’t have you sidelined—you’re my best partner, after all.” His touch is light, but the protective edge in his tone makes it clear how much he cares.

- “Alright, step aside. The Green Arrow is on the job,” Oliver says, flashing you a trademark smirk. Watching him work is an experience in itself—he’s efficient and surprisingly skilled, despite his playful demeanor. “Bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer, huh?” he jokes, his grin lighting up the room.

- Oliver keeps the mood light with his constant humor and quick wit. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bowstring and ended up snapping three more,” he says, laughing at the memory. His charm is irresistible, and he has a way of making even the most tedious tasks feel fun and exciting.

- As the evening winds down, Oliver pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “I’ve lost enough people in my life—I’m not losing you too.” He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and lingering. Oliver’s love is bold, passionate, and unwavering, a constant in your life that leaves you feeling cherished and protected.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John notices the injury immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “What’s this, then?” he asks, his voice a mix of concern and irritation. He steps closer, taking your hand in his surprisingly gentle grip. “Bloody hell, love, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” he mutters, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine worry.

- He doesn’t bother with a first aid kit—instead, he mutters a few words in Latin, and a faint glow surrounds your hand. “There, good as new,” he says with a smirk, though his eyes linger on you with a rare softness. “Don’t make me have to fix you up like this again, yeah?” he adds, his tone light but edged with seriousness.

- “Right, let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” John says, surveying the unfinished renovation. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, grumbling under his breath but surprisingly competent. “Don’t look so shocked—I’m full of surprises,” he says with a wink.

- As he works, John keeps up a steady stream of sardonic commentary and darkly humorous anecdotes. “This reminds me of the time I tried to patch up a hole in my flat’s wall. Ended up summoning a demon instead,” he quips, his dry humor making you laugh despite yourself. His presence, though chaotic, is oddly reassuring.

- Later, as you both sit in the dim light, John lights another cigarette, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve got to be more careful, love,” he says quietly. “I’ve got enough demons to fight—I don’t need to be worrying about losing you too.” His love is raw, messy, and laced with his own brand of charm, but it’s as real and unshakable as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy notices your bandaged hand the moment he steps in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his trademark smirk softens the words. He takes your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “You didn’t think to call me? I’m literally a pro at making bad decisions—and patching them up after.”

- “Alright, sit tight,” he says, pulling out a first aid kit with a flourish. His movements are surprisingly precise, honed from years of taking care of himself and others. “This isn’t bad, but next time, maybe call me before you go all DIY warrior,” he jokes, though the worry in his eyes betrays his casual tone.

- Roy insists on helping you finish the project, despite your protests. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you do this alone?” he says, grabbing a hammer with an exaggerated show of confidence. His work is a mix of skill and chaos—he’s good at what he does, but his playful energy keeps things unpredictable.

- As you work together, Roy’s humor keeps you laughing. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bow. Ended up breaking three more,” he says, grinning at the memory. He’s full of stories, each one more absurd than the last, but they’re all delivered with a charm that makes you forget about the mess around you.

- Later, as you both sit back to admire the (somewhat chaotic) results, Roy pulls you close, his arm slung around your shoulders. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” His love is messy but wholehearted, a constant reminder that you’re his anchor in a turbulent world.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Kori’s luminous green eyes widen in concern when she sees your bandaged hand. “Oh no, my love, what has happened?” she asks, taking your hand delicately in hers. Her warmth radiates through her touch as she examines the wound. “Does it pain you? Please, tell me how I can help.”

- She gently kisses your hand, her lips soft and glowing faintly. “On Tamaran, we believe healing begins with love,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. She insists on tending to the injury herself, her movements careful and deliberate. Her concern is almost palpable, her love for you evident in every action.

- Kori is eager to assist with your project, her strength and enthusiasm turning what could have been a chore into an exciting adventure. “Let us work together,” she says, her smile bright enough to light up the room. Watching her lift heavy beams effortlessly and handle tools with childlike curiosity is both impressive and endearing.

- As you work side by side, Kori shares stories of her home planet. “On Tamaran, we build homes with our families, singing songs of unity and joy,” she says, her voice rich with nostalgia. Her passion for her culture and her desire to share it with you make the task feel meaningful and connected.

- At the end of the day, Kori pulls you into her embrace, her warmth enveloping you like sunlight. “You are my heart,” she says softly, her glowing eyes meeting yours. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She kisses your forehead tenderly, her love as radiant and boundless as the stars she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara’s superhuman senses catch your injury before you even try to hide it. “Wait—what happened to your hand?” she asks, her tone a mix of concern and mild panic. She’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes scanning your bandage with laser-like focus. “You didn’t think to call me? I could’ve been here in a second!”

- She insists on checking your injury, her touch gentle despite her immense strength. “It’s not too bad, but I’m still worried,” she admits, biting her lip as she adjusts the bandage. “Next time, promise me you’ll let me help, okay?” Her voice is firm but filled with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

- Kara takes over the renovation project with her usual enthusiasm, zipping around at super-speed to get things done. “This is so much easier than stopping meteors,” she jokes, flashing you a bright smile. Despite her incredible abilities, she makes sure to include you, asking for your input and slowing down to let you participate.

- As you work, Kara shares stories of Krypton, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “Back home, we had machines to do most of this,” she says, a wistful smile crossing her face. “But I think there’s something special about doing it with your own hands—especially when it’s for someone you love.”

- Later, Kara wraps you in a warm hug, her strength carefully restrained but her affection boundless. “You’re my connection to this world,” she says softly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her love is like sunlight—pure, strong, and life-giving, a constant source of warmth and light in your life.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade notices your injury immediately, his single eye narrowing as he steps closer. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and commanding. He takes your hand in his gloved one, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examines the bandage. “You’ve been careless,” he says, though his tone carries more concern than reprimand.

- Without a word, Slade pulls out a compact medical kit, his movements precise and efficient. “You should have called me,” he mutters, his focus entirely on your wound. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” His care is methodical, almost clinical, but the way his fingers linger just slightly on your skin betrays his deeper feelings.

- Slade insists on taking over the renovation, his natural leadership coming through as he assesses the task. “Stand back,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is like watching a soldier in action—every movement calculated, every decision deliberate. “This isn’t my first time fixing something broken,” he quips, his dry humor catching you off guard.

- As he works, Slade shares fragments of his past, his gravelly voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “This reminds me of when I used to build things with my son,” he says, his expression briefly softening. The glimpses of his humanity remind you of the man beneath the hardened exterior, the man who loves you in his own quiet, fierce way.

- Later, Slade pulls you close, his arm heavy and protective around your shoulders. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve lost too much already—I’m not losing you.” He kisses your forehead briefly but firmly, his love intense and unyielding, like the man himself—a force that shields you from the world’s dangers, even as he battles his own demons.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent’s piercing eyes behind the shimmering Helmet of Fate immediately fixate on your injured hand. “What have you done, my love?” he asks, his voice a blend of the mystical and the concerned. Without hesitation, he removes the helmet, his human side taking precedence. His hands, warm and steady, gently cradle yours as he inspects the wound.

- “This is a simple injury,” he murmurs, his voice calm but resolute. “But even the smallest wounds can lead to chaos if left untended.” A golden light surrounds his hand as he softly incants an ancient spell. The pain fades, replaced by a soothing warmth, though Kent remains watchful. “You must remember, you are precious to me beyond measure.”

- When he sees the half-finished renovation, Kent sighs softly. “It seems I have another task to tend to,” he says with a faint smile. With a wave of his hand, the room begins to shift and transform, guided by his mystical prowess. “Though I prefer to use magic sparingly, I believe this situation calls for a touch of Fate,” he teases lightly.

- As the room repairs itself under his guidance, Kent tells you stories of the endless mystic realms he has traversed. “In the realm of Amathur, they build their homes from living crystal, attuned to their souls,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of eons. His stories are mesmerizing, painting a picture of a universe far beyond your imagination.

- That evening, as the golden glow of his magic fades, Kent pulls you close, his mortal and immortal selves blending seamlessly in his affection for you. “You ground me, even amidst the chaos of the cosmos,” he whispers. “Do not let harm come to you, for you are my anchor to this world.” His love is profound and eternal, like the ancient forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel notices the bandage immediately, her dark, violet eyes narrowing. “What happened?” she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet concern. She steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours lightly. “You didn’t think to tell me?” she adds, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation masked by worry.

- A soft, dark aura emanates from her hands as she murmurs a healing spell. “Let me take away the pain,” she says softly, her magic soothing the injury. “But next time, be more careful.” Her words are firm, but the tenderness in her actions speaks volumes about her love for you.

- Rachel insists on helping with the renovation, though her approach is unconventional. Using her magic, she levitates tools and materials, fixing everything with an eerie precision. “Why struggle when there’s an easier way?” she quips, a rare hint of humor gracing her usually serious demeanor.

- As she works, Rachel shares pieces of her past, her voice quiet but steady. “I used to dream of having a home like this—something stable, something real,” she admits. Her vulnerability in those moments is a reminder of the strength it takes for her to let you in, to allow herself to love and be loved.

- Later, as the room takes on a serene, almost otherworldly perfection, Rachel sits with you in the quiet. “I’m not used to caring this much,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her love is deep and shadowed, like the magic she wields—powerful, transformative, and utterly consuming.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- “What’s this?” Zatanna asks, her sharp blue eyes immediately noticing your bandaged hand. She sets down her wand and takes your hand in hers, her touch warm and gentle. “You’ve been playing with tools without supervision, haven’t you?” she teases, though her concern is clear.

- “Let me fix this,” she says with a wink. She waves her hand, her words spoken backward as a soft, golden light surrounds your injury. “Esael ruoy niaP,” she says, and the pain dissipates. “Much better,” she adds with a playful smile. “But seriously, call me next time.”

- Zatanna insists on finishing the renovation with you, though her methods are far from ordinary. “Why use a hammer when you have magic?” she says, summoning tools and materials with a flick of her wrist. The room transforms under her guidance, every detail touched with a bit of theatrical flair.

- As she works, Zatanna keeps you entertained with stories of her performances and her magical adventures. “There was this one time in Paris where my spell accidentally turned an entire café into a circus,” she says, laughing. Her humor and charisma make even the mundane feel magical, her presence a constant source of joy.

- That night, as the newly restored room glows with a faint magical shimmer, Zatanna pulls you into her arms. “You’re my favorite audience,” she says softly, her voice filled with affection. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” Her love is vibrant and enchanting, a spell that binds you to her in the most wonderful way.

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally zips into the room and immediately notices your hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what happened here?” he asks, his words coming almost as fast as he moves. He’s by your side in an instant, gently taking your injured hand in his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here in seconds!”

- He rushes to grab a first aid kit, moving so quickly you barely see him leave. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he carefully rewraps your bandage. Despite his speed, his touch is gentle, his eyes full of concern. “Promise me you’ll let me help next time, okay?”

- Wally insists on finishing the renovation, his super-speed turning the task into a blur of activity. “This is easy,” he says with a grin, fixing things faster than you can even follow. “But hey, don’t blink—you might miss my best work!” His enthusiasm is infectious, making the entire process feel like a game.

- As he works, Wally keeps you laughing with his endless jokes and stories. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a black hole?” he says, his grin widening. His energy is boundless, his humor a constant source of lightness and joy in your life.

- Later, as the room stands perfectly completed, Wally pulls you close, his usual hyperactivity giving way to a rare moment of stillness. “You’re my world,” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere. “I can’t imagine life without you.” His love is like his speed—unstoppable, all-encompassing, and always rushing to your side.

[onlinedolly]

hello!! it’s so nice seeing another dc writer on here. your dad!erwin post was 👩🏻‍🍳💋 and i saw that you write for jjk. what are your thoughts on dad!gojo?? (he’s the love of ml)

cw: incest, p in v, baby trapping (slightly maybe), perv gojo

dad!toru makes me freak a little!!!!! ugh ugh i went w lil crazy i do apologize

dad!toru with crows feet and smile lines, who is the best dad in the world! at least, in your eyes. so loving and doting, it was different then it was with megumi, you were his. his precious girl, his angel, you were the sun and moon in his eyes i like to think.

and you and dad!toru had always been incredibly close, conjoined at the hip your mother used to always say, “practically twins!” you’d follow him around as a child, crawling into his lap, sitting right next to him on the couch, following him from room to room. and even at your adult age you suppose those habits didn’t break. you found yourself, more times then not, sprawled over your fathers lap while he watched tv, read the newspaper, busied himself with work. you were just always there and he loved it.

now that you were an adult dad!toru could see just how much you’ve changed. a image of your mother, yet softer and more…filled out. he’d realized he had these feelings, feelings a father should never have, when you began attending university. you were to go to a party, in a little black dress with a slit up the thigh, and it led into a heated argument and an image of you satoru found himself thinking of with his hand fisted around his cock.

and dad!toru doesnt really feel that guilty about it if we’re honest. he thinks that maybe he should, maybe it’d be better if he was riddled with guilt, disgusted by himself. maybe it’d make the urges settle. but they never did, and he spent most of his nights alone in bed picturing you in your pajama shorts, you in your underwear he caught glimpses of as he passed by the bathroom, you in nothing at all, as he’d cum around his hand.

when dad!toru finally snaps, finally makes a move that’s been years in the making, he’s surprised you don’t resist much. granted you didn’t know too awful much about sex, your father kept you pretty sheltered, and he made sure you cut off any friends who would put things like that in your head. so when he kissed you, rough and passionate, you simply kissed him back. it was sloppy and inexperienced and the thought of it had satorus cock leaking.

“i dunno..” was your only protest as he lays you back on the bed, crawling over you with a smirk on his face.

“don’t you love me?” he nosed your throat, peppering kisses down the length of it as you whined and nodded your head anxiously. that was all he needed to have your pajama shirt unbuttoned, taking a tit in his mouth and biting down on your nipple as you cry out.

he could feel the way you were trying to close your legs beneath and it lit a fire inside of him as he was quick to pulling your panties and shorts down. you whined, the feeling overwhelming, the feeling as if you were doing something wrong flashed over you. but it felt so good and he was your father, the last thing he was to do is put you in harms way right? he was pulling his sweats down as he pressed open mouth kisses to your tummy, down to your cunt.

“papa—“ you whine, wriggling underneath him in attempt to close your legs in shame. but satoru was too quick, pinning a leg down as he sees your cunt drool onto the bed.

“what a dirty girl.” he teases, lifting a finger up to run it up the length of you pussy, the feeling makes you yell out as he circles your clit softly. “i’m going to need to work you up, okay? i’m big and it’ll hurt if i don’t.” you weren’t sure what that meant, but you just nod your head, obedient as ever as he slips a finger inside of you.

the sensation burned, and it caused tears to prick your eyes as you mumble out a protest to which satoru just shushes. “give me a sec, you’re just so— tight.” he pulls his finger out before inserting it again making you whine out his name. soon he’s working you with two fingers, and then three, the sensation was dizzying. no more searing pain, just pure pleasure. unbeknownst to you, you were rocking against his fingers, looking for a spot you didn’t even know you had. and when he brushed your g spot you hollered out as he coos at you telling you what a good job you’re doing.

he coaxes an orgasm out of you, explaining how you’re feeling and what that means and how daddy’s only do this — like a good father should. and then he’s above you again, wiping your overwhelmed tears as he pushes himself into you with no warning.

the pain is back, except it’s tenfold, you cry out and dig your nails into his back as he groans. you were so tight and wet it made it hard to not cum from just pushing into you.

“everything’s okay now baby, you’re good ain’t cha?” he coos, pulling out to thrust back into you, letting you take him balls deep as you scratch at his back. he doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking into you ruthlessly, you’re sobbing as he angles his hips to press his cock against your g-spot before rutting himself in and out.

you aren’t doing much besides laying there, taking it, with sobs and moans escaping your lips. but that’s how toru likes it, being the one in complete control. he can feel the way your walls flutter around his cock, close to cumming as he searches for his own high. you both cum at the same time, you’re sobbing and yelling out as satoru releases inside of you. hot cum coating your walls and ur sends a shiver down your spine as you twitch. he wastes no time in pulling out once he’s done, placing a kiss to your tummy as he laughs, “maybe we’ll get one of our own.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Flirty

Requested Here!

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!wife!reader (no specific characterization)

Summary: Your husband Bruce never stops flirting with you, and everyone, in Gotham and beyond, knows it.

Warnings: fluff! Batboys being Batboys

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | DC Masterlist | Request Info

A/N: Jason O'Mara's Bruce Wayne makes my heart flutter. Especially in this movie (even when he bullies Hal).

“What are they all waiting for?” Jonathan Kent asks his parents. “I thought we were here to raise money for the expansion of the school?” He lowers his voice and looks down to add, “Which is equally boring.”

“Jon, it may seem boring now, but it’s a great cause,” Lois answers, laying her hand on Jon’s shoulder. “And the people waiting…”

“Gotham’s power couple has arrived!” one of the photographers at the door yells.

“Power couple?” Jonathan repeats.

“That would be my parents,” Damian interrupts, stepping out of the shadows and to Jon’s side.

“But, they go everywhere together,” Jonathan points out. “What makes tonight special?”

“We don’t have time to answer that, pal,” Clark says before chuckling.

As Bruce walks through the crowd of paparazzi and reporters with you smiling at his side, Damian and Jon nod at one another. Damian leads Jonathan back the way he came, and they disappear.

Lois leans toward Clark, and he answers, “I know. They’re heading south of the ballroom.”

“No, I mean, yeah, I saw them leave,” Lois murmurs. “But I was going to say I give it five minutes before they start flirting.”

“You must be new here,” Dick jokes as he passes behind them. “It’s been happening since they walked in.”

Clark nods, then whispers, “Twenty bucks says they only stay for an hour.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Lois agrees. “They’ll flirt the whole time, but they’re staying for a while.”

“Lois, Clark,” you call, smiling as you separate yourself from Bruce to greet them. “I’m so glad you could make it! And I love your dress, Lois, that’s such a good color on you.”

Lois gladly accepts your offered hug, glaring at Clark over your shoulder to warn him against talking about their friendly bet again.

“Clark are you here for business or pleasure?” you ask as you step back from Lois.

“Pleasure. Bruce sent a personalized invite. Real ink and all,” Clark answers. “I must say, you’re getting pretty good at his signature.”

“Alfred is a great teacher,” you joke. “I thought you were bringing Jon?”

“We did. He’s with Damian.”

“Ah, I see. Well, if he doesn’t make another appearance before the end of the gala, I’ll bring him home in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Lois replies. “I’m glad they’re getting along.”

“They’ve come a long way,” Clark agrees.

“Like two other heroes I know,” you tease. “I have to go shake some hands with the rich and powerful of Gotham, but we should do dinner soon.”

“We should,” Lois says. “Good luck with the Gothamites.”

“I don’t think she’s the one who needs luck,” Clark interjects.

“Clark, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” you call over your shoulder.

While you approach a table of school board members, Bruce waits at your reserved table alone. His kids have disappeared, as expected, and he’s decided to wait for you.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred calls.

Bruce turns quickly, reluctantly tearing his eyes from you. You’ve been thanking the other donors and dancing with all of the children in attendance, and he has been content to watch you from his table with a smile.

“Yes, Alfred?” Bruce asks.

“Seeing as you’ve made a considerable donation to the charity, perhaps you could discuss your interest in the cause rather than ogling your wife from across the room,” Alfred suggests.

“I think my donation was sizeable enough that I can spare a few minutes to admire my beautiful date.”

“It’s been nearly thirty minutes, Master Bruce. The reporters have begun talking about you.”

“Did they ever stop?” Bruce challenges with a smile. “Yes, Alfred, I will do my duty and rub some elbows.” Bruce stands, buttons his jacket, and adds, “After I dance.”

“I expected no less,” Alfred sighs.

At the entrance, Gotham’s most notorious reporters and paparazzi wait for the gala to end to photograph the glamorous exits and exploit the unglamorous ones.

“I tried to interview Bruce Wayne, but he only talked about his wife,” a reporter laments as he returns from the gala. “Do you think Dick Grayson is still around?”

“Does he ever know why he’s here?” a cameraman points out.

Inside, your socializing smile melts into your genuine, joyful smile as Bruce returns to your side. He has a way of making every night out, every charity dinner, feel like your first date.

“Hey,” he greets, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Wow,” you drawl. “That’s the line you’re going with?”

Bruce shrugs as he explains, “I thought I’d change it up. Besides, you look so beautiful I’m having trouble remembering my usual moves.”

You chuckle, playfully slapping your hand against Bruce’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now, can I take you home and see that pretty smile for the rest of the night?”

“Tempting. Make it the rest of your life and I’m in.”

Bruce’s arm tightens around you as he turns toward the large double doors opening into the Gotham night. As you leave, over an hour before the end of the event, you don’t see Clark sigh and pass money to Lois. You know Bruce and his moves, but so does everyone else in Gotham. And the Justice League, apparently.

“Mr. Wayne, over here!” an interviewer yells.

Bruce smiles, a close-lipped greeting that would make a less-experienced group run for Metropolis. Bruce slows as he exits the Wayne Enterprises building and gestures for the interviewers and cameras to take turns rather than yell over one another.

“What can you tell us about the economic impact of the proposed Wayne Enterprises expansion?” the interviewer closest to Bruce asks.

Bruce nods at the question, but his eyes are locked on something across the street. As he recites the rehearsed stats, he never looks at the man before him or the cameras.

“What’s he looking at?” someone whispers.

“His wife is waiting across the street,” a cameraman answers. “We don’t have much time before he runs to meet her.”

“You and your wife left last night’s charity gala early,” Vicki Vale begins. “Can we trust that the board still has your support?”

“The children of Gotham have our support,” Bruce answers, fighting his growing smile as you wave to him. “Whatever group or donations we have to go through to help them, we will do it. But at the end of the day, the Gotham school board is not who my wife and I are choosing to help. It is the children. Excuse me.”

The crowd splits, creating a clear path for Bruce to reach the sidewalk before he crosses the street to greet you. You hear a few camera shutters as he hugs you, but Alfred pulls the oversized town car between you and the paparazzi before Bruce steps back. With the cameras at his back blocked, Bruce leans in and kisses you, holding eye contact before and after the kiss.

“You could’ve looked at the people you were talking to, you know,” you tease quietly.

“And miss a moment in your pretty eyes?” Bruce flirts. “As long as you’re here, you’re home, and I’m going to be looking in those windows.”

You feel your neck and cheeks warming, but Bruce holds your chin gently to keep his eyes on yours. After a moment, he releases your face to take your hand instead.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I completely forgot to tell you how radiant you look today.”

In the car, you smile and squeeze Bruce’s hand. You’ll never get used to his flirting and never stop being affected by him. Which is exactly what Bruce wants.

“Pretty and smart.” Bruce tuts and shakes his head before he adds, “It’s not fair.”

“Sure, that’s what’s not fair.”

“There’s my handsome husband,” you murmur as Bruce removes his cowl.

“And there’s my beautiful wife,” he replies, extending his arm toward you. “I missed you.”

“We were only on patrol for an hour, Father,” Damian tuts. “Perhaps you should see someone for your dependence on her.”

“Hey, kid, normal people just say, ‘get a room,’” Jason points out. “Not that the Ra’s-style monologue isn’t riveting.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, but when you take his hand, he smiles and pulls you against his side. As close as physically possible, you lean against him and watch his profile as he reviews the cameras from the night’s patrol.

“Must have been quiet if you’re back after an hour,” you muse.

“Killer Croc was taking a nap under the manhole outside Iceberg Lounge, but other than that, our usual clients seemed to be otherwise engaged,” Dick explains.

Bruce turns toward you and whispers, “And I missed you, so I rushed them a bit.”

You smile and hook your fingers in the neck of Bruce’s suit. Behind him, the boys groan and turn away. They love you, but Bruce’s constant flirting with you gets to them. You’ve been told to get a room more times than you can count in the last week alone. Damian’s monologues are a good break, you think.

“I love your outfit,” Bruce teases softly, glancing down at your worn Gotham Academy sweatpants and one of his shirts.

“I asked Alfred if he had any spandex left over, but this was the best he could do,” you respond.

“All of the spandex has been earmarked by Dick,” Jason says behind you. “Speaking of which, I need to leave.”

“How is that a segue way?” Dick questions loudly.

“We should get going, too,” Bruce tells you. He kisses your jawline and murmurs, “Or are my clothes good enough for you?”

“There’s no substitute for you,” you flirt, ignoring the faux retching sounds your boys are making behind you.

“Goodnight, boys,” you call as Bruce lifts you into a bridal carry.

“Goodnight!” they reply together.

“Try not to scare her away before morning, Father,” Damian adds.

“Where’s Ma?” Jason asks as he enters the manor. “I’m not staying if she’s not here.”

Bruce doesn’t look away from the television screen displaying the three final choices for movie night as he answers, “She’s on the second floor, heading to the stairs. She’ll be right down.”

“How does he do that?” Jason murmurs.

“He probably chipped her,” Dick answers under his breath.

“Or he’s memorized her footsteps and weight shift patterns,” Damian proposes.

“Have you?” Dick asks.

Damian shrugs and takes his place at the end of the couch, curling up to Titus for family movie night.

“I found it!” you cheer as you return. “I knew I bought more candy.”

Bruce looks up at your voice and smiles while his eyes soften. It’s a visible reaction, a happiness that blooms deep within him at your return.

“Good,” Bruce replies as you sit beside him. “Glad you’re back.”

“I was gone for two minutes,” you point out, passing Jason and Dick their favorite snacks.

“It was long enough.”

You shake your head lovingly and shift closer to Bruce when the movie begins. You’re in your home, with your kids, and sitting with the love of your life. Even when Bruce interrupts the movie to whisper compliments in your ear and draws random shapes against any exposed skin he can reach, there’s nowhere else you want to be.

“Mrs. Wayne,” a woman says as she nears you. “So odd seeing you here. And… in, well, that.”

You smile and look away from the different colored yarn. Dressed in your favorite pants and one of Bruce’s dress shirts tied up to fit you better, you are more interested in shopping at your favorite hobby store than discussing anything about your husband, love life, or style.

“Mrs. Marshall,” you reply, noticing the surprise she fails to mask when you remember her name. “This is my favorite store, and I was running low on some things.”

She hums, and two more women approach behind her, slowing when they notice you.

“Sweetheart,” Bruce murmurs behind you. He looks up from the items in his hands and adds, “Ladies.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Mrs. Marshall says, suddenly sounding breathless. “It’s wonderful to see you. I wasn’t aware that you shopped locally.”

“Yes, well, small businesses are the heart of our economy,” he agrees, his arm pressed to your back. “And, of course, my wife has hobbies, and this is the best place I’ve found to get her everything she needs.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Speaking of…” Bruce turns to you and extends his hands. “Is this the brand of hooks you were looking for?”

“Ooh, yes!” you cheer, running your fingers over one of the cases. “I don’t know if I can choose, though. I need this one-“ you point to a specific item in the set to your left – “but the other hooks have such nice grips.”

Bruce nods once and places them both in your small cart. You grip his arm in thanks and smile at him before remembering you have an audience.

“Mr. Wayne, do you have any hobbies?” one of Mrs. Marshall’s friends asks.

“I do,” he answers, rubbing his hand along your back. “But I enjoy watching my wife and her hobbies more than anything I could try.”

“That’s sweet,” Mrs. Marshall murmurs. “Well, we must be off. Perhaps we’ll see you at the next gala. Again, Mrs. Wayne, nice to see you, and what an… interesting outfit.”

You smile and watch them turn off the aisle where you stand before you turn to Bruce. “I don’t think she liked your shirt.”

“I don’t think she liked how good you look in it,” Bruce argues, placing his hands on either side of your waist.

You place your hands on his shoulders and shake your head. “Do you make them jealous on purpose?”

“I don’t do anything to or for them on purpose. You’re the only one I have the time or the eyes for.”

“Romantic.” You rise to your tiptoes and peck Bruce’s lips quickly. “Are you sure I can get both sets?”

Bruce maneuvers you to stand between him and the cart handle, then drops his chin to your shoulder. “We can buy the whole store.”

“I thought small businesses were the backbone of this city?” you tease, leaning back against him.

“The heart of the economy,” Bruce corrects. “But I’d keep the staff on.”

“Oh, well, when you say it that way.”

“I wasn’t aware that Gotham had a wildlife conservatory,” Clark says, tucked into a corner away from the gala.

“We don’t,” Bruce answers. “Apparently certain members of our city government think we need one.”

“And you support that?”

“Off the record?” Clark nods, and Bruce replies, “Not a bit.”

“Then why are we here? Why am I here?”

“You have a day job. And my wife was invited to speak on behalf of the local wildlife foundation.”

“Which is different than the conservatory team?”

“Clark, honey, don’t try to understand how Gotham works,” Lois encourages as she passes him a glass.

“Yes, they’re separate,” Bruce explains. “She expressed the foundation’s concern and assured them that they’d receive no commendation or donation…”

“So, you’re waiting for her to come back to leave?” Lois guesses.

“Uh, excuse me,” Bruce mumbles. He straightens and adds, “I need to go win over the beautiful woman in the red dress.”

“You wanna get out of here, too?” Lois asks Clark. His eyes widen as he nods, and after Lois sets their glasses aside, they step back into a hallway and seem to disappear in a blur.

Someone runs into you, their side bumping against your hip. When you look over your shoulder and see Bruce looking at your lips, you turn slightly to hit him with your hip in retaliation. The moment you lean toward him, Bruce wraps his arm around your waist, spins you against his chest, then dips you. Your arms loop around his neck quickly, but you laugh when you realize what he’s done.

“You’re in a good mood,” you murmur as he stands, holding you against his chest.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Bruce compliments.

“Bruce, I love you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Knock it off,” Bruce chides playfully. “Flirting is my thing.”

You lean forward, and just before your lips meet, you argue, “And you’re mine.”

Bruce closes the distance, holding your waist carefully as he holds you close and moves with you. Camera shutters echo behind you, several people clap, and you hear your Damian turn around quickly.

Bruce Wayne loves you; he will never stop flirting with you, and all of Gotham knows it. Especially when Vicki Vale’s article Gotham’s Power Couple is Only Growing in Power and Influence is printed on every front page the following morning.

[mintyys-blog]

TOO HEAVY, HUH? | jason todd x reader

DC MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: insecurities, mentioned sex, implied sex.

You didn’t mean for the comment to slip out. It just happened—soft, bitter, and too quiet to be taken as a joke.

“I’m probably too heavy to lift anyway,” you muttered, tugging your shirt down over your stomach and avoiding his eyes.

Jason stilled. He was mid-way through drying his hair with a towel, drops of water still clinging to his collarbone, but now he was staring at you like you’d just insulted his favorite book and his motorcycle in the same breath.

“Too heavy?” he repeated.

Your shrug was half-hearted. “It’s fine. I get it. I’m not exactly—”

Whatever insult you were about to throw at yourself got cut off when your world suddenly flipped. With zero warning, Jason grabbed you—grabbed you—and hauled you up into his arms like you weighed less than a duffel bag.

“Jas—!”

“You mean like this heavy?” he teased, arms solid under you, expression infuriatingly smug. “Because I can do this all day.”

And then—he deadlifted you.

He actually deadlifted you, squatting low before standing up tall, arms wrapped under your thighs and back. Like it was nothing.

“Jason!” you squeaked, smacking his shoulder. He only grinned wider.

“Still too heavy?” he challenged, and before you could answer, he tossed you up slightly—just enough to catch you again with ease. Your breath hitched, heart racing, and he chuckled. “I train with hundred-pound sandbags, babe. You’re warm, soft, and so much better to hold.”

You tried to hide your face in his shoulder, but he shifted you again, adjusting you like a human barbell.

“You’re not allowed to talk shit about my favorite body,” he said, suddenly serious. “Especially not when it’s the one I fall asleep holding every night.”

Your eyes stung. Stupid Jason and his stupid gentle voice when you least expected it.

“…You really don’t care?” you mumbled.

He looked at you like you were insane. “Care? I love your body. Every part of it. And if I have to throw you around the apartment until you believe that—” he hoisted you once more, arms flexing “—then I guess I’m getting a workout in.”

You finally laughed, weak and watery, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t ever apologize for the space you take up,” he murmured. “I’ll always make room for you.”

Your laughter finally faded into quiet breathing, cheek pressed against the slope of his shoulder. Jason had stopped showing off—sort of—and now just held you, his hands slowly tracing up and down your back, warm and possessive.

He walked the both of you to the couch, sitting down with you still in his lap. His arms didn’t loosen once.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, letting yourself melt into him. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, voice soft.

“Yeah. But I’m your ridiculous,” he said, brushing his lips against your temple. “And I’m gonna keep lifting you until you stop saying dumb things about my girl.”

He tugged the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around the both of you, one hand running through your hair. You could feel his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and grounding.

“I hate that you ever feel like that,” he murmured. “Like you have to shrink yourself, or like you’re somehow not enough. Because the truth is, babe—you’re too much in the best damn way. You wreck me. In the best way.”

You swallowed hard at the crack of emotion in his voice. The vulnerability beneath the bravado. That was the real Jason. The man who fought so hard, who loved so fiercely.

His hands roamed gently, skimming your waist, your thighs, your hips, like he needed you to feel every inch of the devotion behind his touch. His grip wasn’t possessive—it was reverent.

“You know what else?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

You hummed questioningly.

“I love your weight on me. When you’re on top of me, when you’re riding me, when you’re just lying on me like this.” His hands splayed across your back. “It’s perfect. It’s you.”

You shivered a little, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were darker now, intense. Focused.

His thumb tilted your chin up, and he kissed you—deep, slow, and coaxing. His lips moved like he had all the time in the world, like there was no rush to take you apart, because he already had you. Mind, body, and soul.

The kiss deepened, his hands drifting lower, gripping your thighs again like he was ready to lift you all over again—but this time, right onto his lap in an entirely different way.

“Still think you’re too heavy?” he rasped against your lips, his voice ragged now, needy.

You shook your head, flushed and breathless. “Not even close.”

His smirk was dangerous, smug, and stupidly hot.

“Good. Now let me prove it again,” he growled, standing with you in his arms like it was nothing, carrying you to the bedroom with sinful purpose in every step.

And he did. Again. And again. And again.

[hanasnx]

honestly, every time you write for dc characters, it gives me life cause it feels like a dying art form on this site now 😭 anyways, i saw your new event so what about wally x wayne!reader, like “enemies to lovers-esque” they’ve been bickering since they were kids but now that they’re older somethings had to give after a particularly intense mission?

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Ugh! I don’t get why you don’t just listen! If you’d just trusted me—“ you begin, gesturing wildly with your hands despite no one being around. The comm in your ear sputters to life as your opponent is quick to rebuttal.

WALLY WEST doesn’t ever see your side of things, or refuses to just to get on your nerves. “Oh, I’m sorry. Last I checked, Major Bossy hadn’t been promoted to Team Leader.” You could hear the roll of his eyes in his voice as you pull the frame off the vent.

Instead of wasting your energy with clever response, you revert to immature tactics—the only strategy he lowers himself to. “If I’m Major Bossy, you’re definitely not Lieutenant Ass-Kisser.” you argue, ending the comment with a grunt as you slide your body weight into the narrow hall of the vent.

“Oh-ho-ho, didn’t know the weather report called for sarcasm—“ Predictably, Wally meets you where you’re at but now you can’t leave it alone. Your fingers press into the piece in your ear to make sure he hears you transparently.

“‘Weather report?’” you parrot incredulously, spitting your words, “you- are such- a cornball—!”

“Keep the comms clear!” the warning voice of the actual Team Leader, Nightwing, silences you both. Until you hear Wally’s stuttering protests, intent to keep bickering with you. “We don’t have Miss Martian, and you two idiots are wasting air time with this bullshit. Cut the chatter. Nightwing out.”

You press your lips together. As you dissolve into a snicker, you hear Wally mirror you on the other line.

“Do you ever shut up?” Wally speaks against your mouth, bare sweaty bodies sticking together.

“Do something to render me speechless, then.” you challenge, a curl teasing the corner of your lips as your arms wrap loosely around his neck. He lifts himself to hover above you, the leather band around his neck dangling a silver pendant over your chest. Your two heads bow to meet the sight between you, his dick slicked with pre-cum and spit settled nicely in your slit. The thick shaft makes a home in your folds, while the lip of his bulbous mushroom-shaped tip catches on your clit every time he ebbs and flows his hips. Lazily, he demonstrates it, the mix of fluids lubing up the rod to stroke up and down your sore sex. He’s hefty, a lot more than you gave him credit for, a heavy cock sprouting from wild dark red curls.

“You didn’t even shave.” you comment, hiding your obvious interest with a thin veil. He can still hear the waver in your voice, can see how you roll your puffy bottom lip through your teeth.

“You think I planned this?” He meets your eyes with his brow pricked. “Thought you hated my guts.”

You peer to the side innocently with the minutest of shrugs. “Or maybe I just wanted you to fuck them.”