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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

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DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

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

After a short festive break, I'm back in force with my headcanons. My (hyper) brain has been obsessed with DC lately, so get ready for some DC headcanons with new characters I've never done before. I missed you all, love, Marie.

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- You didn’t mean to do it. Well, that’s a lie. You absolutely meant to do it. The way Bruce’s broad, suited figure strode past you in the Batcave was simply too tempting. There he was, the epitome of brooding composure, running a hand through his dark hair as he mulled over crime scene reports. Without much thought, your hand acted on instinct. Smack. The sound echoed through the cavern like a gunshot. Bruce stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head, an arched eyebrow lifting to meet his ever-present scowl. "Really?" he asked, voice calm but laced with that unmistakable Wayne edge.

- His reaction wasn’t anger, though you could see the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. You, the only one in Gotham—or perhaps the world—who could dare to breach his stoicism with something so mundane as a playful swat. You crossed your arms, feigning innocence, though your smirk betrayed you. “What? Just testing your reflexes, Mr. Wayne.” He took a slow step toward you, his shadow sprawling like a cloak. “I thought you’d want to keep that hand intact,” he murmured, but there was warmth in his voice that belied the threat.

- Bruce never let much show, but you knew the man beneath the cowl better than anyone. As much as he loved his mission, as much as he carried Gotham on his weary shoulders, he loved you more. There was no hiding the way his stern exterior softened around you, how his dark eyes gleamed with affection when he thought you weren’t looking. And now, despite his unflinching persona, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in the way he lingered near, uncertain if he should let himself laugh.

- “Next time,” he finally said, his voice low, “make sure Alfred isn’t around to hear it.” His lips quirked into the barest smile before he turned back to the Batcomputer. Yet, as he walked away, you could swear he slowed his stride, almost as if daring you to do it again. You didn’t, of course. Not then. But the idea of Gotham’s Dark Knight flustered by a simple smack was too delicious to forget. And Bruce knew it.

Clark Kent (Kal-El) aka. Superman

- Clark didn’t see it coming. How could he, when he was too busy carrying three bags of groceries in each hand and balancing a box of pastries in the crook of his elbow? You watched him shuffle toward the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his wholesome, Midwestern charm radiating even in the simplest acts. As he passed, you couldn’t resist. Smack. The clap of your hand against his ridiculously perfect backside made him jump slightly, the pastries nearly tumbling from his grip. “Hey!” he exclaimed, spinning around, cheeks flushed pink.

- For someone faster than a speeding bullet, Clark sure could get caught off guard by you. His face was an endearing mix of surprise and bashfulness, and you swore the man looked like he’d just been scolded by Ma Kent herself. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine confusion but also a hint of laughter. You shrugged, batting your lashes. “Couldn’t resist. You’re carrying so much cake, after all.” He groaned at the pun but couldn’t keep from smiling.

- Clark, despite his extraordinary origins, was at his core a simple man. A man who loved sharing quiet evenings with you, cooking together, and pretending the world didn’t need him for a little while. He was also devastatingly kind, a trait that extended to how he loved you—with full-hearted sincerity and no room for doubt. So when he looked at you now, shaking his head with a chuckle, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

- “You’re unbelievable,” he said, placing the pastries safely on the counter. Then, faster than you could blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with that impossible strength. “But if you’re going to tease, you’d better be prepared to deal with the consequences.” His grin was all boyish mischief as he tickled your sides, your laughter ringing through the kitchen. You swore he let you win when you finally broke free. Clark Kent, the strongest man alive, completely at your mercy.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry didn’t even stop moving. You were sure he noticed, though, because as you walked past him in the hallway and your hand made contact with his backside, he nearly tripped over his own feet. For the Flash, that was saying something. “Did you just—” he started, spinning to face you. His words were drowned out by your laughter as he stood there, red-faced and wide-eyed, his usual chatter momentarily short-circuited.

- “What?” you asked innocently, though your grin betrayed you. Barry spluttered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I wasn’t expecting that!” he managed, his voice pitching higher than usual. You loved how easy it was to fluster him, even though he was one of the smartest, fastest people in the world. “You’ve got to work on your reaction time, hero,” you teased, winking as you sauntered away.

- Barry’s mind was racing, as it always did, but now it wasn’t just thoughts of his latest case or some quantum theory experiment. No, now it was you—how you could so effortlessly knock him off balance with a single playful act. He adored you for it, for the way you brought lightness and humor into his often chaotic, exhausting life. You were his anchor, his calm in the storm of velocity and danger.

- Later, when he zipped into the living room with snacks for your movie night, he couldn’t resist a little payback. As he placed the bowl of popcorn on the table, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “Tag,” he whispered, and before you could respond, he darted away, leaving a gentle swat on your hip in his wake. Your laughter followed him, echoing in the space he’d just vacated. Barry might be the fastest man alive, but you were the one who always left him breathless.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- You didn’t think it was possible to catch Diana off guard. The Amazon princess was grace and power personified, her every movement deliberate, her every action precise. But when you passed her in the sunlit garden and gave her a cheeky smack, she stopped mid-step. Her head turned slowly, her azure eyes narrowing as her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Did you just strike a warrior?” she asked, her voice a blend of amusement and mock reprimand.

- “A warrior with impeccable form,” you shot back, bold as ever. Diana’s laughter rang out, melodic and warm, her posture relaxing as she faced you fully. “You’re fortunate I consider this an act of affection,” she teased, stepping closer. The sunlight caught her dark hair, casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She was intimidating and beautiful, a goddess among mortals, yet in this moment, she was utterly human—and yours.

- Diana loved how unafraid you were of her strength, her presence. So many treated her like a distant, untouchable figure, but you reminded her that she was more than her titles or her mission. You made her laugh, you challenged her, and you weren’t afraid to be playful with her—even when it came to something as bold as this. She admired your spirit, your fire, the way you met her gaze without hesitation.

- “You realize,” she said, her tone mock-serious as she closed the gap between you, “that this is an invitation for retaliation.” Before you could react, her arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Her laughter joined yours as she spun you once before setting you back down. “Careful, my love,” she warned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “A warrior never forgets.” But the smile on her lips promised she’d never stop loving your daring nature.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- You should have known better than to smack Arthur Curry as he walked past, the salty scent of the sea clinging to him like a second skin. The man was built like a fortress, with muscles that rippled beneath his tank top and a stride that exuded the confidence of a king. As your hand connected with his backside, the smack echoed through the cozy beach house you shared. Arthur stopped mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned his head, a grin spreading across his rugged, sun-kissed face. “You sure you want to start this game, love?”

- He set down the fishing net he’d been carrying, his piercing green eyes narrowing playfully as he took a deliberate step toward you. You couldn’t help but laugh, holding your ground even as he loomed closer, his smirk promising trouble. “I couldn’t resist,” you said, your voice light. “It’s not every day a queen gets to remind her king who’s really in charge.” Arthur barked out a laugh, the sound deep and rich like the ocean waves outside. “Oh, is that so?” he rumbled, his hands finding his hips.

- Arthur loved your boldness, the way you matched his fiery spirit without hesitation. You were one of the few people who could keep up with him—whether it was challenging his quick temper, teasing his authority, or standing beside him when the burdens of two worlds weighed heavily on his shoulders. You weren’t afraid of his strength, his power, or the scars that told the story of his battles. Instead, you met him head-on, reminding him of the joy and levity he often forgot.

- “Alright,” he said finally, leaning down until his face was inches from yours, his grin widening. “But just remember—you started it.” Before you could react, his large hand swatted your hip, the playful strike making you gasp and laugh at the same time. “That’s for round one,” he teased, straightening as he headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if you’ve got the guts for round two.” You watched him go, shaking your head. King of the seas? More like king of cheeky comebacks.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- You didn’t even plan it. Hal Jordan had been walking past, cocky as ever in his flight jacket, tossing his keys onto the counter with that easy swagger that made your heart race and your patience thin in equal measure. Before you knew it, your hand moved of its own accord. Smack. The sound was sharp, and Hal froze, mid-step, his head snapping toward you. For a moment, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, finally, he broke into a grin. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

- Hal was never one to back down from a challenge, and you knew that all too well. “Careful,” he warned, his green eyes sparkling as he took a slow step toward you. “You’re playing with fire here, gorgeous.” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, please. If you’re so tough, you should be able to handle a little pat on the back. Or… elsewhere.” His laughter was immediate, loud and free, filling the room like music. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

- That was what Hal adored about you. He’d spent so much of his life surrounded by danger and responsibility—whether it was saving the universe as Green Lantern or pulling insane aerial stunts as a test pilot. But you? You were his gravity, his reminder that life wasn’t all about proving himself. You made him laugh in a way no one else could, and even when you pushed his buttons, he couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with you each time.

- “Alright,” he said, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch. “You wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty.” Before you could react, Hal’s ring glowed, and a green construct of a feather appeared in his hand. “Let’s see how tough you are when the tables turn.” You squealed, darting behind the couch as he followed, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Hal Jordan might be fearless, but you knew his real weakness—your laugh, your smile, your ability to keep him on his toes.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen barely flinched when your hand smacked his backside as he walked past the kitchen counter, a bow slung over his shoulder. Instead, he stopped, cocking his head to the side with a slow smirk spreading across his handsome, scruffy face. “Well, that’s one way to get my attention,” he drawled, turning to face you. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could already tell he was plotting some form of retaliation. “Should I be worried, or was that just your way of saying ‘good shot’?”

- “You’ve been spending too much time in the field,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “Thought I’d remind you who really has the aim around here.” Oliver laughed, the sound warm and rich as he set his bow down carefully. “Oh, really? You think you can out-shoot me and out-smart me in my own house?” His tone was playful, but you knew the archer in him couldn’t resist a challenge.

- Oliver loved that about you—your boldness, your fire, the way you never let him take himself too seriously. It was a rare gift to be able to break through the walls he built around himself, the layers of guilt and responsibility he carried as Star City’s protector. But you didn’t just break through; you tore those walls down with humor, love, and a fearlessness that matched his own. You reminded him of the man beneath the hood, the one who still knew how to laugh and love.

- “Alright,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you in place. “But just so we’re clear—if this is your idea of flirting, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you deeply, stealing your breath and your smugness all at once. When he pulled back, his grin was pure Oliver Queen. “Your move, pretty bird.”

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- When your hand smacked John Constantine’s backside, his reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, throaty chuckle that promised trouble. He turned to face you, cigarette dangling from his lips, his trench coat swirling slightly with the motion. “Well, well, love,” he drawled, his voice tinged with that unmistakable cockney accent. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Careful now—you’re playing with fire.”

- “Oh, please,” you shot back, smirking. “You deal with demons, curses, and apocalyptic prophecies daily. You can handle a little slap.” His grin widened, and he took a step closer, the scent of tobacco and leather surrounding you. “You’ve got some cheek, you know that?” he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ash into the tray. “But that’s why I keep you around. Keeps me on my toes.”

- John wasn’t used to this—lightness, laughter, love. His life was a whirlwind of darkness and chaos, and yet, somehow, you had wormed your way into his blackened heart. You brought him peace in a way no spell or sigil ever could. And while he’d never admit it outright, he adored the way you challenged him, kept him grounded, and gave him something to fight for beyond his own self-loathing.

- “But fair warning, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that sent shivers down your spine, “I don’t play fair.” Before you could react, he whispered a quick spell under his breath, and suddenly, your shoes were glued to the floor. “There,” he said with a wink, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Let’s see if you’re still so bold when you can’t run away.” Your laughter filled the room as he walked off, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Classic Constantine—always one step ahead, but always hopelessly smitten with you.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- You really couldn’t resist. Roy Harper had been strutting around the apartment like he owned the place, shirtless, a bow slung across his back, humming some old rock tune under his breath. His cocky energy was palpable, and when he passed by you in the living room, it was instinctive. Smack. Your hand connected with his jean-clad backside, and the sound was sharp enough to cut through his off-key singing. Roy froze, turning slowly with a look of mock betrayal. “Did you just…? Oh, you’re really asking for it now, gorgeous.”

- You leaned back against the couch, smirking. “What? Just checking if Arsenal’s reflexes are still sharp.” Roy placed a hand on his hip, pointing at you with the other. “You’re lucky I didn’t just shoot an arrow in surprise,” he teased, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he was anything but annoyed. “But fine. If we’re doing this, let me warn you—I don’t fight fair.”

- Roy loved that you didn’t take him too seriously. In a life full of chaos, mistakes, and battles, you were his sanctuary, the one person who could knock him off his pedestal in the best way. Your playful antics reminded him that not everything had to be about proving himself or fighting the next big battle. You were his partner in every sense of the word—his laughter, his balance, his home.

- “Alright, beautiful,” he said, dropping the bow and cracking his knuckles. “You know what happens when you mess with me, right?” Before you could react, he pounced, pinning you to the couch in an exaggerated wrestling move that had both of you laughing uncontrollably. “This is justice!” he declared dramatically, tickling your sides until you were begging for mercy. Roy Harper was impossible, but then again, so were you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- The reaction was immediate. As your hand connected with Koriand’r’s backside while she passed you in the hallway, she stopped mid-step, her fiery hair glowing faintly as it caught the light. Slowly, she turned to face you, her wide green eyes blinking in confusion. “Was that… an Earth custom of affection?” she asked, her tone curious but tinged with amusement. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, her innocent confusion melting any attempt at feigned innocence. “Sure, Kori. It’s totally a custom. Very common.”

- Kori tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her beautiful features. “How interesting,” she said, stepping closer to you. “On Tamaran, we express affection with embraces, kisses, and occasionally by flying into the air with loved ones. But this… this is new. I like it!” Her radiant smile made your heart flutter, and you could see the mischief spark in her gaze. “Does this mean I can do it back?”

- You adored how open and loving Kori was. She embraced life with the same passion she brought to battle, and her joy was contagious. Loving her meant constantly learning to see the world through her eyes, where every experience—big or small—was worth celebrating. You could never get enough of the way she made even the smallest moments feel like an adventure.

- “You may want to prepare yourself!” she declared suddenly, her arms wrapping around you in a warm, powerful embrace. Before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly off the ground, spinning you in circles as laughter bubbled out of both of you. When she finally set you down, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a playful tap on your backside. “This is a wonderful custom!” she declared with a bright giggle. You’d created a monster, and you couldn’t have been happier about it.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn she was carrying when your hand smacked her backside. Nearly. Her Kryptonian reflexes kicked in, and she saved the snack, spinning around with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. “Did you just…?!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. You leaned casually against the counter, biting back a grin. “What? Just making sure Earth’s strongest woman doesn’t have any blind spots.”

- “Blind spots?!” Kara exclaimed, placing the bowl down with exaggerated care. “You’re lucky I don’t fly you straight into the stratosphere for that.” But the way she crossed her arms and pouted made it clear she wasn’t actually upset. If anything, she was flustered—adorably so. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

- Kara loved how comfortable you were around her. So many people treated her like a symbol or a savior, but you just treated her like Kara. You teased her, laughed with her, and never let her powers overshadow the fact that she was just a girl trying to navigate life on a new planet. Being with you grounded her, reminded her that even superheroes deserved to let their guard down and have fun.

- “Fine,” she said finally, her lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “But don’t think I won’t get you back.” Before you could respond, she darted forward at super-speed, giving your side a playful nudge that sent you stumbling into the couch. She was back in her original spot before you could blink, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on her face. “Kryptonians don’t lose, you know,” she teased, her laughter filling the room.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to do it. Slade Wilson wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, but as he passed you in the training room, his armor catching the dim light, the temptation was too strong. Your hand smacked his backside, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet space. He stopped immediately, his head turning just enough for his single visible eye to lock onto you. The sharp, dangerous glint in his gaze made your heart race. “You’re braver than I thought,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

- “And you’re slower than I thought,” you shot back, unable to resist. His brow arched, and you could see the corner of his mouth twitch—was that amusement? “Careful,” he warned, stepping closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. “You might find out just how fast I can be.” Despite his intimidating presence, you refused to back down, crossing your arms and smirking up at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

- Slade had always admired your boldness. In a world where most people either feared him or tried to use him, you were a refreshing change. You didn’t treat him like a weapon or a monster—you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who carried the weight of too many sins. Your audacity, your fire, reminded him of the parts of himself he thought he’d buried long ago.

- “Alright,” he said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “But don’t forget—every action has a consequence.” Before you could respond, his hand darted out, delivering a sharp but playful swat to your hip. You gasped, more in surprise than pain, and he straightened, his smirk now fully formed. “Your move,” he said, turning and walking away with the measured confidence of a man who always had the upper hand. And yet, you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For all his gruffness, Slade Wilson was undeniably charmed by you.

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