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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Saw your inbox opened and I have never touched the ask button so fast in my life lol!

May I request smut scenario for Dick x fem!reader x Jason where the boys got hit by Ivy's sex pollen and fem!reader (also a hero) being a good friend *helped* them with their problems *cough* pls? And then, at the end, maybe confession of romantic feelings between them UwU? Your choice in choosing kinks!

Srroy if my English sounds weird. It's not my native language.

This reminded of of the Harley Quinn episode but more kinky.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd

Tags: nsfw, smut, friends to lovers, confession, threesome, sex pollen, double creampie, friendly competition, degradation, praise, dirty talk, neediness, grinding, clit stimulation

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: Definitely not something I would ever want to happen. Nope.

All three of you have been warned about the pheromones and their effects. This mission should have been over and done with quickly, but your recklessness made it a bit more... hard. For Dick and Jason in particular. They took the hit for you, they were the ones who were keeping you sandwiched between their hard bodies and hard cocks, Dick kissing your lips, Jason behind you, both of them grinding their hard cocks against you.

"Careless." Dick mumbled against your lips, his hand shoved down your pants and rubbing your pussy over your panties. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Jason laughed behind you, his gloved hands on your hips, his hips unapologetically grinding against you, "You're too sweet for this. Helping us out and all. But fuck... I can't say that I'm sorry. Just keep between us. I don't wanna see Dick's dick."

"Go fuck yourself." You sucked on his middle finger as soon as he put it up to Jason.

"Nah. She's doing a great of job of that. Aren't you sweetheart?" You groaned when Jason slapped your ass playfully. "Fuck. That was a nice sound. Sorry but I'm not waiting anymore. Unlike rule boy over there, I ain't gonna pretend I don't wanna fuck you." Jason's hands pushed his pants and your leggings down, his cock rubbing, gathering wetness between your pussy lips and smearing it across his cock. "Wet little pussy, all ready for me."

You were looking forward, into Dick's beautiful blue eyes but your hips bucked down against Jason. You were conflicted between the two men, you always were. Being with them felt good, having their attention felt good, now it was your turn to make them feel just as good.

"I can help you both." You whimpered as you pressed your lips against Dick's. "I can take both your cocks." You weren't so sure, just Jason's felt so thick, but you'd make them fit. They were the ones suffering.

"You're welcome to try." Jason was always so cocky when talking to you. He wanted to fuck you way before this. Dick on the other hand was more reserved.

His face was pink with blush, his eyes almost guilty as they looked at you. He wanted you too, but was afraid to say anything.

"It's okay. You- ah!" Before you could tell him anything Jason decided to be a jerk and push his cock inside you. "Jason, you fucking idiot." He laughed at your insult. You could call him any name under the sun as long as you kept taking his cock like you did. The fast slapping noises made it hard to focus but you forced yourself to.

You grabbed Dick's cheeks and pulled him in for a rough kiss. "I-"

"Don't apologize. If... if Jason gets to fuck me, then you should too." You tried to convey to him how much you wanted him too.

"Yeah, Dick. Come on, are you really gonna make a lady beg? Look at her!" Jason's barking laughter echoed loudly in your ears as you felt his hands grab your thighs and pull you up, your back leaning against his chest. You almost screamed at how deep his cock was hitting at this changed angle, his balls slapping against you with every thrust. "Bet you anything she's thought about this. She's squeezing so much, like a fucking slut. But if you don't want her then I'll use her up all on my own."

His words definitely got under his frienemy's skin. Dick pressed to your front, his cock pulsing over your clit, his hands slipping to your ass. "I can't. Not unless I say this." He leaned forward and ghosted his lips against yours. "I love you. I've always loved you, ever since I first saw you I wanted you."

"I love you too." His blush spread further as he rolled the tip of his cock over your clit and then pushed it against your already full pussy. "It's okay. It's okay, I'm gonna be okay." You were reassuring the two of them as much as yourself.

Jason's lips found your neck, leaving hard little kiss marks on it. Suppose you shouldn't neglect the man who was currently making your mind go blank. He sighed into your kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth with clamming force. Those kisses weren't nearly as forgiving as Dick's, Jason demanded you pay attention to him.

"You should hear it too. Jason, I- oh my god, oh fuuuu-!" You couldn't get a word in when Dick started fucking you too, two hard cock filling you at once, fighting for your attention, the pulsing, clenching wetness of your cunt. So Dick could be petty too. "Love you."

"The feeling is mutual." Of course Jason wasn't the best with words, with feelings. But he claimed to be the best at this. "Are two cock's enough for you? Or are you greedy for more? I wonder how many you could take? One. In. Every. Hole."

"Stop talking to her like that. She's not just some bitch you get to fuck." Dick growled at him and pulled you more towards him. "Come on baby. Tell him."

You wished you could deny what Jason said. Because you didn't want any cocks that weren't theirs. That was the truth. But you couldn't catch enough of a break between one cock and the other fucking your pussy. So you couldn't deny it. Jason laughed while Dick started you wide eyed and with his mouth parted in shock. His cock twitched inside you, his hold getting more and more possessive.

"I won't let them. No one else will fuck you. No one." You rarely saw him snap like this.

"Seems like she likes it. Maybe we need to make her see who she belongs to." And naturally Jason was encouraging this. Both men started fucking you faster, harder, your pussy filled to the limit and more. Your arms wrapped around Dick's shoulders to keep yourself grounded but Jason's arms still held your legs open. "We can do it inside right pretty girl? You want our cum in your pussy?"

"Y... Yes. Yes! Anything for you." You moaned, your hips moving on their own, no control or care, your mind swimming with pleasure. "I want your cum."

"Both our cum. At once." Dick repeated against your lips as he pushed in one final time, Jason giving it a few more good pumps, in and out, Dick's cum dripping down and soon joined by his, a torrent of warmth flooding your abused hole. Your vision went white, body boneless against Dick's, legs limp in Jason's hands as you shook and twitched. "Shit. Are you okay?"

"Holy..." Jason chuckled, "She came so hard she passed out." You groaned weakly, not enough strength in you to tell him to shut the hell up. "You did good." His lips pressed one side of your neck, the action soon mirrored on the other side by Dick. They kept kissing you until you were strong enough to move, to talk, to tell them you loved them both so much.

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psychostxr · 1 year

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𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 | close one

PAIRING. wally west x female! reader

WORD COUNT. 0.6k

WARNINGS. suggestive, wally and (y/n) are of age

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc. (l/n) - last name e.g. cole, thomas, etc.

"You're such a cheat!" you exclaim, twisting your body to lay on your stomach across the floor in your bedroom.

Wally sits beside you, his grip on the game controller tightening.

Wally laughs. "I think you're just bad as this game."

Pouting, you watch the redhead beat your character, his fingers pushing buttons at the speed of sound. Suddenly smirking, you lift yourself, kneeling beside Wally. His gaze is locked on the TV screen, ignoring your stare. Lifting your chin, you move closer to Wally's ear and lightly nibble.

"Aah!"

Wally groans at the sensation, dropping the controller from his hands. He gently pushes you off him, watching you with a face as red as his hair.

You giggle. "You're cute when you're flustered."

Crawling over Wally, you straddle his waist. His hands trail over your sides, resting on your hips.

"You're a sore loser. You know that?"

"You're the one that's dating this sore loser."

"Touché."

Your hands cup Wally's cheeks, and you pull him toward you into a kiss. Your eyes close peacefully, your tongue tracing his lower lip for permission. Wally's eyes flutter close, allowing himself to get lost in your taste.

Wally tugs you closer by the waist as the kiss gets more heated, more sensual, needing to feel you closer each second. The hand on your waist suddenly disappears, slipping under your shirt to trace nonsensical patterns on your skin.

Pulling away from Wally, you grab the ends of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it on the floor. Wally's breath hitches at the sight of you, his gaze flickering back and forth from your face and the valley of your breasts.

"You like what you see?" you tease.

Wally looks up at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"And what if I do?"

"Maybe you'll get a closer look."

Reaching to unclasp your bra, you nor Wally hear the keys jingling in the front door and the woman that walks inside. Her heels clink against the tiled floor, dropping her bag on the counter.

"(y/n), honey, I'm back!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh my god!" you whisper, scrambling off Wally's lap.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be home?"

"Well, she obviously changed her mind."

"(y/n), are you here?" you hear your mother call.

Grabbing your shirt, you quickly put it back on.

"Yeah, I'm in my room!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Wally questions.

"Take out my workbooks. Make it look like we were studying," you whisper.

Wally grabs a few books from your bag, scattering them on your bed while hiding your gaming equipment. Your mother's footsteps creak against the stairs as you tidy yourself to look like you didn't come out of a makeout session. The door to your room opens, and you and your boyfriend quickly sit on the bed, watching your mom enter the room with surprise.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had company?"

Wally waves at your mom. "Hi, Miss (l/n)."

"Hello, Wally." She looks between the two of you, glancing at the books on your bed. "Are you two studying?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, internally cringing at your keen tone. "Wally was just trying to teach me science. You know how smart Wally is."

"Well, I'll leave you to go back to studying," your mother says, "It's nice to see you again, Wally."

"You too, Miss (l/n)."

The moment your mother closes the door behind her, you fall back against the bed, hand clutching your chest.

"That was a close one," you mutter.

Wally looks down at you. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a problem."

You sit up. "What?"

"She knows."

Tilting your head in confusion, Wally points at your books. Eyes scanning the books, you realize there's no science book in sight.

"Shit."

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lesbianbarbaragordon · 6 months

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Well, if you wanted honesty (that's all you had to say)

He slumps against you now, once everything is set and done, leaning his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. His bangs, wet cold from the rain outside, tickle at your back. You don’t think much of it when you settle a hand on his back, nearly cradling him. He needs the comfort just as much as you do. pairing: tim drake x reader warning: brief mention of anxiety medication, implied panic attack word count: 1.6k

Red Robin would have been more lucky had he landed on your neighbor’s apartment just next door instead of yours.

You are majoring in journalism at college, despite how much your mother would have wanted you to become a doctor, so you have few first aid knowledge or even the cool head to deal with the shock.

So really, he would have been better off slipping through her window and not yours, but it’s a friday night and you declined her invitation to go out around an hour ago, so you know he would have just found an empty apartment.

He has you, and only you, for better or for worse.

It’s a terrible, gruesome sight; a dark silhouette in the shape of a man slumped against the wall and a trail of blood following from the window.

You’re alone in your apartment, clad on some old pajamas and a messy bun. There’s an empty ramen cup on the coffee table leftover from your dinner and some trashy reality show playing in the background. You’d rather die a hundred times over before having a vigilante see you like this, uncared for and wide open, and the embarrassment still lingers even after the horror has long since settled in.

It’s silly, and stupid, and so so inconsequential in the mortal scheme of the scene playing out right in the middle of your living room, but you’ve been infatuated with Red Robin since he was just Robin, and a decade worth of daydreams crashes hard against your predicament. You didn’t want to meet him like this.

It takes you half a minute to adjust. Your hands are shaking when you lean against the sink of the bathroom, looking through your cupboard in search of your anxiety meds. If you’re already barely useful to Red Robin as you are, you’re definitely useless on the verge of a panic attack. By the time you are back to Red Robin’s side it’s easier to breathe and you bring a first aid kit with you. You hope you don’t look as terrified as you feel.

Red Robin is breathing through his mouth, clutching both hands to a belt buckled around his hips. A big puddle of red has started pooling around him on the floor, and it takes you a minute to realize the red around his belly is darker than his suit. You grab at his hands and take a deep breath, thinking your words over.

“I need to see the wound.” He is eerily quiet and tense to the touch. He doesn’t trust you and you don’t trust him either. Despite your fondness for him over other vigilantes you don’t know him, he showed up uninvited and you are scared. This is a situation of wary hospitality, some sort of leap of faith between the both of you.

Slowly he relents, perhaps because he’s too tired and hazy to put up a fight, or maybe because he sees good faith in your eyes. Whatever the case, you get to work.

The belt doesn’t come off easily and at some point you just settle on cutting it off. Red Robin weakly gestures to one of the pockets, where you find more first aid supplies; a medical needle, stitches, painkillers and some sort of dark lump that reveals itself to be a retractable tourniquet when you accidentally press a bottom.

The implication that he has to carry around a travel size tourniquet makes you dizzy, thinking about just what kind of job he expects to take on, but you don’t dwell on it because you have already taken a dose of your meds and another one would be no use.

His suit is skin tight and he has to help you lift the shirt to see the wound. His body is sticky with sweat and the blood doesn’t make it any better. For a fleeting moment you think about calling emergencies, what do heroes do when they get hurt? Surely you would have seen more of Batman’s cryptic team during your childhood at the hospital if that were the case. Perhaps some sort of private clinic for vigilantes, paid for by the Justice League? Maybe they just dropped in unannounced at a stranger’s house expecting patching up and it was like one of those things everyone knew but no one mentioned.

“Believe me, this is a first.”

There’s a slight smile teasing at his words and despite the situation you shudder, followed up by an intense blushing in your cheeks and ears. God, did you really say that outloud?

“I just-” you stop in your tracks for a minute, focusing on the blood in your nails and fingers, “this doesn’t make any sense,” you admit, frowning slightly.

Red Robin leans his head against the windowsill, letting out a shudder. His shoulders relax the slightest bit, you hear the beating of his heart and his ragged breaths. He’s in pain, awake perhaps only because he can’t afford to fall asleep on a stranger. You never thought you’d find yourself here.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either,” he whispers in the end. You can’t tell if he’s looking you in the eyes because of his domino mask, and there’s resentment in your mind for a second because he barged in, seeing you at your most vulnerable, while you can’t even know the color of his eyes. It feels a little unfair and it makes you understand, in a way, all those criticisms of secret vigilantes and superheroes whose identities the public doesn’t know.

But you don’t entertain the thought, because even if just from the remains of your childhood wonder, there’s the littlest of belief in Batman and Robin.

Red Robin tries to guide you, but he slips in and out of consciousness throughout and you can’t remain stagnant while he’s out of it. He tells you he’s bleeding from a bullet wound and that his communications were cut short before he had to run for it and look for shelter. By the time he realized, he was alone, half delirious and in desperate need of medical aid. He doesn’t tell you why he went to your place, exactly, and you have half your mind to know it wasn’t a mistake. Bats don’t make reckless decisions, especially not Red Robin, but you bite your tongue and hold it in. Distrust would do neither of you any good.

Thankfully the bullet pierced cleanly all the way through and you don’t have to look for bits or pieces to take out. By the time you’re done disinfecting Red Robin’s taken a few painkillers and he doesn’t sound as in pain, if not a little hazy from blood loss. The staple you got earlier from his belt saves you the trouble of sewing the wound, the bleeding has already stopped and you can comfortably work on it while he drinks some cold water from the fridge, hissing whenever you place a new stitch.

Sweat dots your brow once you’re done, letting out a heavy sigh. Red Robin is much the same, cold to the touch and yet hot when he breathes against your neck. As time passed he leaned closer and closer to you, whispering and instructing, sometimes even leaning on you for support when a sudden wave of weakness hit him and he was left stumbling.

The TV sets an eerie light on the both of you, and in the quiet of the room you help Red Robin stand up and settle on your couch. His white bandages a contrast against the colorful cushions and a blanket you hand him without a word.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you hear him say sleepily once he’s tucked in, looking at you almost shamefully. You come to a full stop on the doorway, just about to leave for the corridor and then your bedroom, ready to settle for sleep just as much as Red Robin. Now that everything is over, you are uncharacteristically sore for the one that hasn’t been shot.

“I know,” you say, after taking a moment to drink him in. You know his face from photos, or at least what you’ve seen over the years of ever changing masks and cowls. His youthful cheeks that were once Robin’s baby features are gone, replaced by a sharp jaw and cutting features. He’s grown up much like you, even if he’s felt like an eternal teen boy heartthrob crush for your high school years.

You don’t know what to make of it, of him, of this or even of you, of the you that’s resurfaced today even if just for the smallest of moments or the quiet bond that’s bloomed between you. Because it means something to you, and luckily it’s the same for him.

“Don’t stain my cushions,” you say, the slightest hint of amusement in your voice. “Even if you’re Red Robin, i’ll foot you the bill.”

He blinks owlishly at you, hit by your shamelessness into quiet bafflement.

“Goodnight,” you say at last, leaving before he gets out a word.

In the morning he’s gone just like he said, and yet you are surprised to see a single note on the counter.

‘I’ll bring you new cushions, thanks for the help’.

It’s signed only with ‘Red’, but you didn’t expect much else. It makes you wonder though, when exactly he’ll bring over those new cushions.

an: i'm soso sleepy rn i'd elaborate on my process but its rlly late and i have class tmrw, i hope everyone enjoys this mwah !!!

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #batman #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #dc comics imagine #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam x you #tim drake x you #red robin x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #batfam x y/n #tim drake one shot

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mangoisms · 7 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter eleven: i am always running back to you | read chapter ten

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.7k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: SO SORRY.... it was the horrors (midterms). hope this chapter makes up for it because boy it is a lot of fun

The rest of the evening passes slowly.

It does nothing for your nerves, truthfully, but you keep yourself preoccupied with Wade. He crawls now and that leaves him wanting to explore every space possible. So, while Wally runs out for dinner and Linda wraps up a meeting with her editor, you watch over him and make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.

Dinner is deep-dish pizza—directly from Chicago. It’s all very indulgent, the way Wally can do things like that; he spoils you in that regard and you tell him as much as you wash dishes and he puts them away.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he says, shooting you a small smile. “Besides, it’s for me, too.”

And you can tell that’s true by the four empty boxes of pizza that he ate, with two for you and Linda.

But still. When he leaves…

It’s not just that that you’re going to miss. With or without the speed, you’re going to miss him. Him, Linda, and little Wade.

Despite not saying that—because you don’t want to be a downer, because their home is in Keystone City, not here, and you don’t want to be selfish like that—he senses the shift in your mood.

“You know,” he starts, “me and Lin were thinking…”

“That’s never good.”

He nudges you gently, grinning. You shake your head, smiling, too. You pass him a freshly-washed plate and he dries it.

“Well, wait until you hear what we were thinking about.”

“What?”

“We think you should visit us every now and then.”

The thought that they want you around is warming, as usual. But…

“I mean, I would love to, Wally, but I can’t really afford that… Maybe, after I see how everything adds up during the fall, I can come for the holidays or something. But…”

He shakes his head. “Come on, kiddo. You think we’d say that and leave it up to you?”

“I don’t expect—”

“I know. But you should. We want to do whatever we can to see you. You aren’t the only one that’s going to miss something when we leave, you know. That’s why we’re doing this. Besides,” he grins at you, lightening up. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I can get you to Keystone in under a minute right now.”

Considering that Linda has told you that his speed is efficient but leaves one with a horrible bout of nausea and vertigo—at least in the beginning; she’s barely affected these days—you feel some mild apprehension.

But those things are temporary. You can withstand that, if only to see them again.

“Or,” he goes on, “we can fly you out, but that would honestly be pretty cumbersome and would also take too long.”

“It’s a plane, Wally. That is the fastest form of transportation we have in this country.”

He sniffs. “I’m the fastest form of transportation we have in this country. In the world! One of them, anyway.”

“Well, that’s how we normal human beings function. Not everyone can run faster than the speed of light.”

“Not everyone should,” he agrees. “I’d lose my appeal. That would suck.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So, is that a yes or—?”

“Alright,” you relent, smiling. “How often are we talking?”

He smiles a tad bashfully. “Once or twice a month? You can come on the weekends… Just—you know. I know you’re gonna be busy with classes but…”

“It sounds like I should be getting a nice break every month if we do that. I mean, I can’t promise I won’t have work—”

“Just as long as you’re around, kid. That’s all we want.”

Your face warms at the earnestness in his words, embarrassed, though you know you really shouldn’t be. “Wally.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been in this game too long to try and dance around feelings. Hopefully your boy will learn that, too.”

“You aren’t wrong,” you mutter, shutting off the water and drying your hands, making a mental reminder to put on some lotion before they get annoyingly dry from the hot water and dish soap. “I’m just not… used to that.”

He shrugs, tossing his dish towel over his shoulder. “Like I said. In a world like ours… it’s important.”

You don’t disagree. But you can’t rail too hard on Tim. Questionable decisions regarding his feelings aside, the both of you only came to your senses after he had a close-call today. What does that say about you, that he has to nearly die for you to realize you need to see him again? Need to clear the air?

It’s human, you think. So very terribly human of you.

It’s not like you’re unappreciative of him in your life but… you know this dance and song. You only realize what you have when you lose it. Look at your parents. You’ve slipped right now but you’ll fix it. You’ll make sure he knows how much he means to you.

But more importantly, right now…

“You guys… mean a lot to me, too.” You turn, seeing Linda pause near the island, and meet her brown eyes and even though it makes your face hot and the words get stuck in your throat, you force them out, underpinned with what you hope they can tell is sincerity. “You do. So much.”

Your throat tightens and you duck your head as your eyes burn.

Hard to quantify. Hard to put a label on what they mean to you.

But you know that much. That they mean the world to you.

Warm, strong arms come around you, squeezing you tight. You sniffle when you feel Linda come up behind you, squeezing you, too.

It’s an emotional day, you decide. For all of you.

So, you take a long shower to try and pull yourself together, then head to bed, bidding Wally and Linda goodnight.

You don’t intend to fall asleep when you crawl into your bed. It’s better to stay up, to wait for Tim to get here. But the day’s events start weighing down on you as you curl up beneath the blankets.

You try valiantly to stay awake by scrolling on your phone but it’s a Sisyphean task to do so. As your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you know it will be a task that you fail as you stop fighting and give in to sleep.

It’s only the vibration of your phone that rouses you.

Groping for it, the display is obscenely bright in the darkness of your room. But the text waiting for you is unmistakable, impossible to miss.

i’m here

Suddenly recalling what you and Tim had agreed upon, you shoot up in bed, ignoring the head rush the action gives you.

The window that leads out to the fire escape is right next to your bed, covered by curtains. You toss your phone aside, rolling out of the warm cocoon of blankets; the AC in this place works well, a little too well, you think groggily as your bare feet connect with cold wood floors.

You shove aside the curtains and though you know who is waiting for you, that it is Tim, just Tim, your best friend, the still-not-fully-awake part of you clenches up in fear, thinking it might be Batman that is moving in the shadows, only barely illuminated by the full moon. But you know better than that.

It helps that your eyes are already adjusted to the darkness, recognizing the figure crouched in your fire escape. Dressed in… oddly enough, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. Completed with a plain black domino mask—not the usual one he wears, more akin to Robin, save for the color—that obscures the blue eyes you know and love.

You reach for the window. Well-oiled and taken care of by the owners, it is virtually silent as it slides open.

Muggy July heat rushes in, chasing away the cold.

Without the window and with your vision quickly clearing from bleariness, you can really take him in. The tension in his body, the way a breeze ruffles through dark hair, the twitch of his hands to you before they clench into fists. Waiting.

For you.

Your throat thickens painfully when your eyes snag on the white gauze taped to the left side of his neck.

Just a graze, Steph told you. But he lost a bit of blood anyway and his neck… if it had been the right side, would he not be here right now? Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s his neck, there are so many important arteries running through there.

If anything else had happened, if he’d moved even a little bit, he wouldn’t be here.

That realization, coupled with the overwhelming emotions at seeing him again since everything, pushes you over the edge.

Your eyes burn with tears. You reach forward, ignoring the soreness in your belly, one hand grabbing his wrist and tugging him right into the circle of your arms.

That breaks the stalemate. He goes quickly, arms sliding around you as the first of your tears start sliding down your cheeks.

“Tim…”

He holds you tighter, impossibly warm, letting out a shuddery breath and whispering your name, too, everything inside you shivering at the sound, at the warmth that wraps up the syllables of your name.

“I’m okay,” he breathes. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“You were shot.”

An exhale of a laugh. It sounds shaky with emotion.

“Technically, I was grazed.”

“Tim.”

He presses his nose to your hair, hand stroking up your back.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, lips brushing your forehead. “I wasn’t going to die before I got to see you. No way.”

You sniffle. The two of you are quiet, speaking lowly, but you’re suddenly too aware of the other window on the fire escape, the one for Linda and Wally’s room. You don’t want to wake them—or god forbid, Wade—so you reluctantly extract yourself from his arms, tugging him again.

He follows easily, sliding through the window with a grace you aren’t used to. He shuts the window silently behind him, banishing the muggy air that had leaked inside. You wipe away your tears, attempting to piece yourself together.

As he turns back to you, hesitantly now, the air conditioner clicks on, and a second later, cold air starts blowing into your room. It should help cover your voices a little bit.

For a moment, it is silent.

Tim shifts on his feet across from you. The domino mask renders him impervious. Impossible to read without seeing his eyes.

But not totally impossible. The way he bites his lip doesn’t just draw your attention to his mouth, tempting, traitorous thoughts briefly crossing your mind, but it also clues you into his nervous state.

“I’m sorry.”

He speaks first, blurting the words out, seeming almost surprised at the way they escaped him before he decides to go with it, doubling down on it.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at you, whispering your name. “I’m sorry. For lying to you. For coming to you as Red Robin instead of myself. For everything. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know.”

You were in that position, too. You didn’t fuck it up this badly but… you each had your parts to play. No one is blameless here.

“I just,” he stops, looking away, hands clenching at his sides. “I want to be friends. If anything else. I want that.”

If anything else.

You understand what he is saying here.

He isn’t here under any pretenses. Isn’t expecting you to take him in with open arms. Would be fine as friends.

Well, you don’t want that.

“Tim.”

He looks at you. You extend a hand. Waiting. Not demanding.

Slowly, he comes to you. Palm sliding against yours. Warm and a little clammy, calloused but still soft.

A few inches of space separate you when he stops.

This close, you can feel the heat of him. Smell his shampoo, soft and fragrant. Eucalyptus.

You squeeze his hand once then let go.

He and Red Robin are two sides of the same coin. There is no Tim Drake without Red Robin, you think. Not right now.

Maybe it’ll change, down the line. One part of you selfishly hopes so.

You’ll always want him. But as Red Robin, the risk of losing him triples and you are greedy enough to want to mitigate it. The same with Steph. Even with Wally, who is considerably more durable. All of them, duty-bound, honor-bound. You cannot ask that of them.

Right now, though, you think you can make that demand. At least temporarily.

You reach for him. Pausing when your hands near his face. But he doesn’t move. Just looks down at you and you wonder if he can hear your heart, with how hard, how loudly, it pounds in your chest.

You have to be certain.

So, when your fingers finally touch the smooth material of the mask, before trying to lift it, you ask, in a whisper, “Can I?”

“Yes,” he breathes, some emotion you don’t know underlying his voice, one that makes your face warm and your heart skip a beat.

Your fingers find the edge, slowly, gently peeling it up. It peels and peels and peels until finally, it detaches into your hands. Almost flimsy now but with a certain weight.

That’s not what retains your attention, though.

It’s him. It’s always him.

Tim’s eyes are closed, the tiniest of wrinkles found between his brows.

You imagine what it must be like to him. Letting you do that. Peel back the final layer of him once and for all. Letting you see him. Tim. Your Tim.

Keeping the domino mask loosely grasped in one hand, your other reaches for him, your thumb finding the wrinkle between his brows. It smooths out instantly at your touch and his eyes flutter open.

There they are.

It’s a shade of blue that haunts your dreams most nights.

Usually a lighter, softer color in the light, something like cornflowers, but right now, they’re midnight sky blue, looking at you with a heavy kind of affection, warm and unbridled.

Your hand settles on his cheek. He leans into the touch. Your thumb strokes over the sensitive skin under his eye. Where dark circles mar the skin, exhaustion finally clear in his face.

You smile sadly. “You look tired, Timmy.”

“Last couple weeks,” he swallows, “have been… rough.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiles. It’s a small thing but no less beautiful to your eyes.

Then he sobers up, gazing at you, pained. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I was an idiot.”

“I know.” You take a deep breath. “We both were.”

He opens his mouth to protest but you speak before he can.

“It’s true. You know that. We didn’t handle this like we should but it’s… it’s in the past. We can’t change it. We just have to move forward.”

A slow nod, then his eyes flicker to your hand, still between you two, still holding onto the domino mask. He takes it from you.

You aren’t sure what you expect, but it’s not for him to toss it away, landing somewhere in the darkness, a near silent sound.

“Tim—“

“It’ll never come between us again,” he whispers and your breath catches at his words; his hands find yours, pulling the one on his cheek into his own, squeezing. “I promise.”

You take a second to compose yourself, letting out a slow breath.

“I believe you,” you finally say. “And… no more lies. Please. Tell me the truth. The whole truth. I want to be there for you, for all of it.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

Not a protest. Just a statement. A warning.

“So, it’s even more important for me to be there.”

He swallows, eyes searching yours. “Are you… are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So… we’re okay?”

“No.”

His face falls. “Whatever it is… I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” he promises.

“Not like that.”

He stiffens up, breath catching as he understands what you mean. He looks down at you, shock clear. Understanding but not truly believing. That won’t do.

“I love you, Tim. Not just as a friend but…”

You’ve said it to them both. I love you. And this ‘I love you’ isn’t better than the one you tell Steph, than the one you told him for the first time, back when your feelings were still strictly platonic. It doesn’t mean something more, something deeper, something elevated just because it’s romantic. But it’s different. In what you want. In what you long for.

He whispers your name.

You let out a slow breath. “And if you want that, too, then…”

“Of course I do,” he breathes, letting go of your hands to cup your face, bringing you closer. “Of course I do. There’s nothing else, no one else, I want. I just… I never wanted to assume.”

“I know.”

“But if you’re on board then… then we can try it out.”

It feels more like ‘trying it out,’ though. Despite the uncertainty, the whirlwind of emotions, everything that has happened, finally talking it out, finally laying everything out on the table… you’ve found solid ground. A foundation you can build upon.

It is no mere crush. No simple infatuation.

You are in love with Tim Drake. Plain and simple.

And he is in love with you, too.

You close your eyes, fingers curling around his wrists. After a beat, he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, too, you know,” he whispers. “I have for a long time.”

Your face is hot, flushed with heat, your heart pounding. You feel so light, like you might fall up, untethered by gravity and floaty from the cotton candy-sweet warmth unspooling in your chest, clogging your veins and the arteries of your heart. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

He kisses you.

Gently at first, tenderly, lips warm, soft, tasting faintly of spearmint. You feel like you might melt into a puddle of goo at it, at knowing it’s Tim who is kissing you so sweetly, making your knees feel a little weak.

You shuffle closer. He inhales sharply at you pressing into his space, curling around you to close the final bits of distance. It turns the kiss a little fevered, a little hungry, a little desperate.

You’ve missed him so much. You can’t stop yourself from whispering that, pulling away to do so.

He shudders at your words, lips pressing to your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck, and you open yourself up to him, too willing, too happy to let him have you like this.

He keeps saying it. Whatever you want. But he can have whatever he wants from you, too. Anything. Everything.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck and your breath catches at the reverence in his voice. “Can you—can you say it again?”

“I love you, Tim,” you whisper and it pulls another shiver from him, lips pressing to your fluttering pulse and your knees really feel like they might give out.

Your fingers grasp the material of his jacket, tugging, and he brings his lips back to yours, giving you a mind-numbing, synapse-slowing kiss.

You separate eventually, foreheads pressed together, trying to catch your breath.

“Will you stay?” you ask softly.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, leaning back to press a heartachingly tender kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, holding onto him.

After a moment, he pulls away, shedding his jacket, draping it over the footboard. You close the curtains over your window, then crawl into bed. When Tim comes over, he tries to push you over. Not hard. A gentle—persistent—nudge to your shoulder, keeping in mind your injury, though you should tell him that it’s healing much better at nearly three weeks since it happened. Enough so that Steph said she could see about Crystal coming over to take the stitches out, just to avoid waiting at the hospital, and the bill, too.

“Oh, hey—”

“Let me sleep there,” he urges. “I feel better if you’re furthest from the window.”

“Hero types, I swear.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he leans down and scoops you into his arms. You yelp and he shushes you. You can’t stop your giggles as he unceremoniously drops you on the other side of the bed, the one closest to the door. He crawls in after you.

“You’re going to wake them up,” he whispers but he’s grinning, too, as he slides under the covers, laying on his side.

“Who’s fault is that?” you shoot back. “Just ‘cause you and your savior complex need to be by the window—”

He muffles his snickers into the pillow, eyes closed, lips spread in a grin. Your chest warms and you wiggle closer to him.

Tim lifts an arm so you can settle against his side. Wary of the gauze on the hollow of his throat, you settle for tucking your head underneath his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He strokes a hand down your back, a warm brand between your shoulder blades. Sleep isn’t far off your conscience, right at the edges of it, and with the warmth of his body and the reassurance of his embrace, you’re moving fast to it.

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll… you’ll be here in the morning, right?”

His arm tightens around you. You feel him press a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

And he is.

When you rouse an indeterminate amount of time later, awakened by the sounds of activity outside your door—Wade’s high-pitched giggles, Wally’s low murmurs to him as he feeds him breakfast, the water running in the pipes as Linda uses the bathroom—Tim is still there. With you.

Deep in sleep, still, even with the slivers of light that come in from your window and the noises coming in from outside. Probably the repercussions of his ‘rough couple weeks.’ It’s quite similar with you, if you’re being honest. Besides, you hardly mind, basking in the feel of your legs tangled together underneath the blankets, the heavy but reassuring weight of his arm around you.

You manage to pull away a little bit to look at him, blinking out the bleariness in your eyes as you rest your head on the pillow, his face a couple inches from yours. Eyes shut, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, breathing soft and slow. His hair is a mess, some parts of it flat from the pillow and sticking up in other areas. You spy a few creases from the pillow on his cheek, too. But even with that, he is still so beautiful to you.

You sigh, snuggling closer to him, shifting so you can run your fingers through his hair, your eyes falling shut again. You can stand to sleep a little while longer.

He lets out a soft, contented sigh as your fingers glide through his hair, gently taking out tangles as you go.

You pull away after a moment, feeling sleep lapping at your senses again.

You doze for a little while, rousing again to more noise from outside. The sound of the TV. Wally and Linda murmuring to each other. Wade giggling.

Tim shifts, groaning quietly. The sound, rough with sleep, makes something inside you clench, sparks of heat waking you up more fully so you can watch him wake up, too.

He rolls onto his back, stretching, then sagging into the mattress. You stay curled up on your side, your calf thrown over his, watching him wake up with a small smile on your lips that you know must be horribly lovesick.

Finally, he turns to look at you, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi.”

He gives you a sleepy smile. “Hi. Watching me sleep? Weirdo.”

He still has pillow creases on his face. You reach up to trace them.

“Well, you like this weirdo.”

“I love this weirdo,” he corrects. “Guess it’s fair, considering my night job.”

“Right. Watching you sleep—which I wasn’t, by the way, I was just waiting for you to wake up—”

“Sounds an awful lot like watching me sleep—”

You grin and pinch his cheek. He grunts, halfheartedly batting your hand away and taking it in his, lacing your fingers together.

“Anyway. That’s not that big of an offense compared to, oh, I don’t know, dressing up and fighting crime each night.”

“Think that’s part of the whole ‘we love each other thing,’” he teases.

You smile. “I guess so.”

“So, then…” His eyes stray from your face, to something else, nerves clear as day; too early in the morning for him to make a solid attempt at hiding them from you and well. You know him. For better and for worse.

“Mmhm?”

“I guess I should take you on a date.”

“You guess?”

He blushes, red settling high in his cheeks in a way that is… decidedly tempting. “I mean I should. If—if you want to, of course.”

“I didn’t kiss you just for kicks, you know.”

“I sure hope not,” he agrees, looking back at you, face softening. “Will you, then?”

“Of course, Timmy.”

“And maybe…” He turns, reaching for you. You go easily, your fingers still tracing the pillow creases on his cheek. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders as he turns onto his side. In the warm light of the morning, his eyes are a softer shade of blue, the one you know and love.

“Maybe…?”

“Maybe… you’ll give me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

Oh, geez.

Your face flares with heat, heart skipping a beat.

“You cornball.”

“You love it.”

Your palm finally settles on his cheek—hot to the touch, too, flush still lingering behind. You lean forward to press your lips to his forehead. He lets out a shuddery breath, arm tightening around you briefly.

“Yes, Tim,” you murmur against his skin. “I would be happy to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, but it doesn’t like he’s thanking you for agreeing to it—at least, not just that.

Maybe for everything.

But— “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not… I love you. That’s all there is and that’s all there ever will be.”

You pull back, thumb stroking over his cheek. He leans forward, lips pressing gently to your cheek. Your fingers find their way into his hair, sighing contentedly as he kisses down to your jaw.

You get so caught up in that, the knock on your door scares the shit out of you both.

Wally calls out your name. “You up, kiddo? Lin’s makin’ eggs and rice.”

Tim pulls away quickly and you sit up, your face hot.

“I’ll, um, be out in a few.” Your voice is steady, thankfully, but you can’t say much about your pulse, your heart beating out of your chest. Tim is sitting up, too, looking around the room—presumably for the mask he discarded last night.

“Okay,” Wally says. “Will Tim be joining us?”

You both freeze.

You should’ve known better, really. Wally’s been doing this for a long time. Nothing much will slip by him. Not unless he lets it.

Tim turns an impressive shade of red. Tempting, like it always is, but mostly, you just feel like a teenager caught red-handed with her boyfriend.

…Which isn’t too incorrect of a description.

You look at him, lost.

He clears his throat, raising his voice to respond. “I—uh, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine,” Wally responds cheerfully. “Hope you aren’t allergic to sesame because I don’t care and I’m not going out to get something different for you.”

“Wally!”

Tim smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not allergic.”

“Too bad,” he says. “It’ll be ready in a few.”

Footsteps leave. Wally hums to himself loudly, happily.

You and Tim look at each other for a second before a giggle escapes you. Then another. He joins you in the next second, until you two are laughing loudly, listing into each other and flopping onto the bed.

In the kitchen, even from here, you can hear Wally and Linda laughing, too.

You grin breathlessly, looking at Tim’s smiling face, and decide the embarrassment of getting caught out is worth it, if you get to have this. All of them.

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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

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𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 & 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 — 𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!lantern!reader, rough sex, dubcon in the beginning, suggested age gap ( undefined but hal is significantly older ), sir kink, improper use of constructs, pet names ( little girl, baby girl, sweetheart ), hal is a condescending asshole, very light impact play ( face slapping ), brief knife kink mention, size kink, slight pain kink, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by my bestiest maguroni. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

this should’ve been a dream come true.

your very first, official mission with Honor Guard, legend, and your personal role model— Hal fucking Jordan. after all, he was the reason you worked so hard to become a lantern yourself, and protect your very own sector of the universe. he was a living, breathing interuniversal hero, and that was unheard of for a human. you wanted to be just like him.

out of all the cadets freshly trained, you were hand picked to tag along. to follow his every order, and to learn from the best.

and you’d fucked it up in a major way.

you were only trying to help, and thought that you made the right call by abandoning your post to chase the culprit— until you realized it was a fluke. and the prisoner had slipped by your perimeter as easy as could be while you were chasing your wild goose.

needless to say, your Honor Guard supervisor had been pissed, and tore into you right there, civilians watching and all. he’d gripped your face when you’d attempted to stare at your feet and wrenched it back up towards him, hollowing your cheeks with how much pressure he’d applied as he leaned close to hiss in your face. “Don’t ever disobey my orders again, rookie. I say jump, you jump. I say sit pretty, you sit pretty. You got me?”

your eyes were wide— he didn’t yell like Kilowog who’d trained you, but growled, threatened with dilated pupils and furrowed brows. “Yes sir.” it was all you could muster: a pathetic and humiliated whisper. you could feel everyone staring, and you wanted desperately to disappear.

“Get in the cruiser.” he’d murmured, clenching his teeth. you glanced to the vessel waiting. it was sleek and only required one to man it. it had been designed specifically for this mission, for you and Hal and the prisoner. you nod, obedient, and expecting some form of punishment awaiting your arrival back on Oa. however, Hal adds, gruffly, as he gives you a subtle shove when he releases your face. “Your ass is mine.”

“What did I say, huh?” Hal barks, the emerald specters flowing from the ring on his finger, branching off into a multitude of massive hands, all grabbing at you, pinning you to the control panel of the oh-so-shiny, brand new intergalactic cruiser. “I told you that your punishment for insubordination would be severe, didn’t I?”

“Y—yes sir.” it was hard to think about anything other than how he’d managed to wrap you up in constructs, glowing green fists that cinch your wrists together above your head, coils of them that spread your legs, the glowing blade that’d sliced your suit to shreds, exposing most of your body to him. you couldn’t even concentrate to fight back, and knew better than to try, anyways. your head lolls back, eyes tracing along your bound wrists, nervously gripping at them.

“Look here, little girl.” Hal demands, and your attention snaps back to your superior before you. he’d finished his cock from his suit, and now pumped it to life, and you stare with widened, awe-filled eyes as it swells. he was big and strong, the tip swelling right beneath his thumb as he teases his own slit with a grunt of pleasure, one hand gripping himself at the base as he takes one step closer to you, and then another, until he stands in the gap provided by your split thighs.

there’s a faint bubbling in your belly, an urge nestling deep inside you, just as you take in the full visage of Hal; the thickness, the bulging vein that spiderwebs the underside of his shaft, and the broad head that you could imagine would force a cry from your lips if he speared into you. you can’t help how wet it made you. “S—sir…”

Hal tilts his head, jutting his hips to drape his length over your belly, to emphasize just how much bigger he was than you— how deep he would go. it made your head swim. by the looks of it, he would never fit. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely going to ruin your pretty, little pussy.” he smirks, as if replying to the disbelief in your mind and written all over your face.

“I’ll never disobey your orders again, sir.” you breathed out, chest heaving with anxiety ( or, was it anticipation ? ). “I’m sorry…”

but Hal quirked a brow, running one hand up the length of your body, he made sure to give your tender breast a hard squeeze before caressing your cheek, taunting you by running the pad of his thumb over your trembling bottom lip. “Oh, it’s much too late for that, little girl,” he croons, pushing his thumb between the threshold of your lips. he hooks it against the corner of your mouth to keep it anchored there. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good girl, and then you’re going to know exactly what happens to insubordinate whores.”

the hand holding himself on your belly has, instead, directed his herculean cock to your exposed, slick sex. but, he didn't plunge right in. Hal takes his time, using the bulbous, pink tip to spread your netherlips, running it up and down, gathering your essence over it. “You’re fucking dripping.” he hums, but it’s guttural as he tries to muffle his primal snorting. you can still see it, though, in the way his massive chest rises and falls. “I think you like my punishments.” his eyes, which had been admiring just how he can split you open, and how each time he’s blessed with a flash of your hole clenching on air, just begging to be stretched. “Want me to stuff you?”

you wished you could hide your face, because your body was already agreeing— back arching whenever the head of his cock bumped your sensitive clit, squirming and soaking him with slick, you didn’t need it to be anymore obvious, but your face would give you away yet again. big eyes, lips trembling and forced open by his thumb, you slur against it, looking down at where your bodies were meant to join. “It… it’s too big… that won’t fit inside me.” you say, incredulous.

but you can tell Hal wants to chuckle, and maybe if he wasn’t so angry, he would’ve. the corner of his lip twitched, threatening to etch into a wickedly dashing smirk, but he stops it. he simply says two words.

”Let’s see.”

and forced his way inside.

you cry out with your head thrown back, for once straining against the constructs that held you down. your body wasn’t meant to stretch as much as it had to accommodate his size. your walls spasm around the girthy intruder, clamping down, and Hal releases a bestial groan. “Fuck,” he mutters, and pushes his thumb against the flesh of your cheek, “you’re right, I am too big for you, aren’t I?” you can’t even think straight enough to nod, but it didn’t matter. it didn’t stop Hal from falling into a hard, deep rhythm. with each, powerful snap of his hips against yours, he fills you to his hilt. “Doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart, I’ll stretch your little pussy out until I fit right. I don’t care if I gotta pound it out over and over again. You’re mine, anyways, until we reach Oa.” oh fuck, you’d forgotten exactly how long the trip back to HQ was. it felt like weeks, but it was hard to tell for sure. no day or night, just the inside of the ship.

a knot forms in the pit of your gut; would he really keep you twisted up and spread open like this, right here on the control panel? would you be so easily accessible that all he would have to do is reach over and he could fondle you? the whole trip back?

with the power behind his thrusts, and the way the head rammed deep, it was clear that you weren’t meant to be the one enjoying this. he’d gone beyond any of your sweet spots, and instead jabbed relentlessly at the edge of your cervix. he was fucking you the way that he wanted, even if he thought you wouldn’t like it. it even hurt, each time, taking so much more than you were designed for, but you couldn’t help but moan out loud. it still felt good, no matter how much you knew it wasn’t supposed to. his girth plowed through your canal, and you squeal for him to please be gentle, but you don’t mean it. not really. it feels too good to look up at this titan of a man, and watch him decimate you. watch him use you.

it made you so fucking wet that, when he dives in this time, you squelch in response, and Hal moans louder, grabbing a fistful of your hair with one hand, whilst the other grabs your face and forces your chin into your chest. you sounded sloppy, and he liked it. “Come on, baby girl, go ahead and watch me destroy that pussy. ‘S what you deserve, after all. A good, hard fucking to remind you who the fuck’s in charge here.” you mewl pathetically, staring down the length of your belly. your emerald suit was merely a chunk of threads against your ribs, your breasts spilling out the gash at the neckline and the entire crotch ripped out. you could see his shape and size, the imprint of it, bulging against your stomach with every thrust, and your hands ball into tight fists. but you stare, and whine, and come undone without so much as a warning from your body. it was almost as if you were so overloaded with sensation that you just snapped. your orgasm wasn’t big the first time, but you were now twice as sensitive. each thrust feels like it has double the power and malicious intent behind it, now. Hal seems to like it, too, because he smooths his palm over your heated cheek before planting a rough smack against it. “Takin’ orders just fine now, aren’t you, little girl?” the slap temporarily stuns you, or maybe it’s the orgasm that was wracking you, but Hal brings you back with another thwack against your cheek. “All I had to do was shove my dick in you and you’re ready to comply now? You wanna be your Honor Guard’s good, little fucksleeve?”

it stings, a lot. and your eyes widen again, flickering up to watch his face— offended, but incredibly turned on. he hit you. twice.

“The answer is ‘yes sir’.” he threatens between hot puffs of strangled air, his rhythm never even faltering. but he was glaring at you, palm rubbing the pain of the slaps into your cheek, as if reminding you that he can do it again if he wanted to.

“Yes s—sir!” you squeak.

another slap.

you whimper and flinch, and try to turn away from it, but his grip on your hair is too tight to escape. you had to take it, whether you liked it or not.

the worst part was: you fucking loved it. it twisted your guts into knots when he hit you, coupled with how ferociously he was rutting into your body, you were only moments from cumming. again.

“And you’re gonna do whatever the fuck I say from now on?”

“Y—yes sir!”

“Damn right,” Hal grinds his teeth, yanking on your hair harder, but his other hand travels down to knead your breast and pinch at your nipple. he can feel when you unravel for a second time, this time your climax has you spasming and babbling, fingernails digging into your own palm.

“C—cumming,” you whimper, helplessly thrashing, “I’m cumming aga— again!” it was a cry for mercy, mostly. in shock that your body could even function after the first one, but this one was strong and, seemed to be, never ending. wave after wave of torturous pleasure washes over you, and Hal refuses to ease up. he’d so much rather force you to ride it out, and before you knew it, your legs were trembling. your eyes could hardly stay open, and you couldn’t think. “P—please, sir,” you were gasping, punctuating each, violent thrust with a syllable, “p—please c—cum, I— I need… r— rest…”

you knew he must want to. he was throbbing inside you, moaning, breathing ragged, and his jaw was sewn tight. but he only scoffs. “You’re done when I say you’re done. This is your punishment, remember?” he spat, and the constructs melted away, freeing your arms and legs. the only problem was that you were now too spent to move, so you could do little but lie there and tremble. squinting, you peer up in time to see his power morph into a chain-like ring that clamps around his engorged base before a heavy, green lock snaps into place, swinging back and forth as he ruts. he snorts at the sensation of the ring tightening around his cock, squeezing. it would keep him from cumming, you realized, until he felt like you’d earned the break you so desperately wanted. you whine again, and he plows into you harder to accentuate his next statement, “It’s gonna be a long ride home, little girl.”

#hal jordan x reader #hal Jordan #hal jordan x you #hal jordon #hal jordan smut #green lantern smut #green lantern imagine #green lantern x you #green lantern x reader #green lantern #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics #dc comics smut #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #dc #dc smut

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z-m1nerva · 8 months

Text

彡NEO CATWOMAN

⪩ summary- your boyfriend is batman and you’re the new catwoman

you encountered catwoman when you stole something, you were a great thief and you only stole every now and then but you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“well well what do we have here?” she says as she circles around you “you have guts. stupid ones but you have time. from now on you’re working for me i like your attitude.”

ever since terry started working for bruce wayne the two of you seemed to have less time together and ever since you started working for catwoman you barely had time for dates

“hey baby,” he said as he kissed your cheek and slid down into the seat next to you “sorry for not being able to make the date up to you i’ll make it up i promise” you smiled “it’s fine besides i had an emergency call in for work”

when it comes to him as batman the two of you had witty and flirty banter. for some reason, the two of you just clicked it felt like you knew him for ages

“those jewels don’t go with your complexion there sweetheart. it’s a shame you have to steal them” he leaned against the wall of the jewelry store as you grabbed something that caught your eye “too bad” you turn around with a catlike grin on your face “are you offering to buy me something nicer?”

bruce groaning every time he has to hear terry flirting with you he’s always like “keep your eyes on the prize terry.” and terry says “oh i am” while staring at you

the first time bruce heard “catwoman” his draw dropped he knew it wasn’t selina because he hadn’t heard of her in ages but yet catwoman was back, every time he encounters you he has terry give him a recap so they’re closer to uncovering who you are

we all know what catwoman’s suit looks like so when he sees your curves and how you fill it out he can’t take his eyes off you. there would be times when the two of you are so close that you’re damn near kissing

when the two of you are at school and batman and catwoman are suddenly brought up it gets strange

“did you guys see the news last night? batman helped the city again.” a classmate commented. you shrugged “from a thief though.” terry nudged you with a playful grin “what don’t tell me you’re team catwoman” you laugh a little “why shouldn’t i be she’s the only one who can give batman a run for his money” “hmmm i don’t know about that one baby.”

he would tell max about the dilemma he has with catwoman and knowing her she offers to help him out and find out catwoman’s identity. max heard how he talked to you on the comms once and she never went on while he was chasing you around again

eventually, your identities slowly fell apart. both of you let something slip and your “bosses” were able to figure out the rest and it was a strange conversation for the two of you.

the two of you were secretly talking in the batcave to make sure no one could hear you “so let me get this straight. you’re catwoman? this whole time it was you?” you shrugged “i could say the same the whole time instead of working for mr. wayne you were being batman??”

the flirty banter between y’all only gets worse

he snuck up behind you putting his hands on your waist “aw come on baby you don’t need to take that i can buy you something better.” you lean back and press a quick kiss to his masked cheek “mmm i don’t think you can but thanks for trying.”

he places one arm on the side of your head as you leaned your back on your locker “so where were you last night?” you smiled knowing he knew exactly where you were and what you were doing “oh here and there. nothing much to worry about” you pressed a kiss to his lips and hummed when you felt his tongue swipe your bottom lip.

history repeating itself with the two of you except the two of you work out and remain together

#terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis fluff #terry mcginnis x you #dc x you #dc x reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #batman beyond x reader #dc x y/n #terry mcginnis x y/n

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dollwrites · 11 months

Note

Can you do a little drabble with Hal using the ring to hold reader down while he fucks her face?

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ),fem!reader, suggested age gap, use of the word daddy, face fucking, deepthroat, improper use of a power ring, light bondage, degradation ( but in a cute way ) all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ HAAAALLLL my mf daddy 😤 I MISSYED HIM please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Ahh, there she goes!”

Hal’s head drops back as he slips the final few inches into your mouth. you’d been so timid, so unsure that you could take him all the way in, but your eyes widen, blurry vision catching the way your cheeks swell when he presses forward. he’s grasping himself at the base of his mighty cock, fingers hooked under his heavy balls as he bucked his powerful hips forward, trying to stuff them into your mouth, as well.

your back arches up off the bed, knees jabbing upwards towards the ceiling as you plant your feet there, pressing hard, trying to propel yourself upwards. the sensation of your throat bulging as his girth delves into it is maddening, and you forget, suddenly how to breathe through your nose. you start to gag, and writhe.

“Listen to those pretty sounds,” Hal grunts, and the emerald specter of his raw willpower flows from the ring on his finger, coiling around you in delicate, lace ribbons, that cinched your body back against the sweat-soaked sheets. they tie a final, large bow around your belly, and hold you in place, like you were a gift, wrapped ever so precariously for him, “those cute, filthy sounds ‘a yours. ‘S okay, daddy’s not gonna let you choke. Breathe through your nose like I taughtcha, yeah?”

your eyelids flutter, tears escaping your ducts and rolling down your cheeks. you try to nod, but when you do, his rough, heavily veined hands rub your already swollen lips raw, and you gargle.

“There ya go…” he swooned as you inhale deep, your chest rising and falling with ragged breathing through your nose. your body struggled against the energy bonds, jerking with your arms restrained tight at your sides. “There’s my best girl. Just breathe, and relax. Let daddy do all the work. Let me pound that tight, little throat ‘a yours, fuck, that feels good.”

he’s found a depth he likes, with your tiers smashing into his base, rubbed raw by the thick patch of mahogany hair, and he lets go of himself, opting, instead, to wrap his fingers around your throat to feel the shape of his own cock imprinting from the other side. he shudders, and moans, bracing his feet on the floor and hunkering down more, his hips pistoning at such a speed that dribbling your face against his groin made you dizzy. “Good.. girl, that’s right,” he sounded distant, and you weren’t sure if it was because his head was dropped back as he stroked the shape of the bulge, using your throat to get him off, or if it was because you were getting drunk on the heat of his body against your face, the smell of his arousal and sweat as it engulfs you, traps you there. “Just daddy’s good, little throat toy, arentcha? You like this like I like it? Does it make you wet when I use your throat to jack my cock off like this?”

you want to muster a reply for him, but all you can do is gurgle and whimper, globs of spit and precum dribbling out of your mouth, sticking to his crotch, smearing over your cheeks and rolling down towards your hairline.

but Hal chuckles, and it’s a raspy, lust-heavy chuckle, “That’s right, little girl. Make those nasty sounds just for me. Daddy’s gonna make a mess of ya.”

#hal Jordan #hal jordan x you #hal jordan x reader #hal Jordan smut #green lantern x reader #green lantern #green lantern x you #green lantern smut #dc comics #dc comics x you #dc comics x reader #dc x you #dc smut #dc comics smut #dc x reader

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your-local-simp-writers · 22 days

Text

Masks and Revelations

Word Count: 801

Warnings: None

Terry Mcginnis x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The crisp October air was filled with the scent of fallen leaves and the distant laughter of children planning their trick-or-treat routes. You had always loved Halloween, the one time of year when everyone could be someone else, if only for a night. This year, you had a special surprise for your significant other, Terry McGinnis.

You slipped into your Batgirl costume, the fabric hugging your form like a second skin. The cowl was the final piece, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, a thrill ran through you. Terry, with his love for all things Batman, would never see it coming.

Meanwhile, Terry was in his room, struggling with a decision. Halloween was complicated for him, given his nightly escapades as Batman. He chuckled at the irony of it all—here he was, trying to choose a costume when he already had the most authentic one at home.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Terry, are you ready yet?” his brother’s voice called out, muffled by the wood between them.

“Just a minute, Matt!” Terry replied, finally settling on a simple Robin costume. It wasn’t the real deal, but it was close enough.

When you arrived at Terry’s doorstep, Matt greeted you first, his eyes wide with excitement. “Wow, you look just like Batgirl, Y/N!” he exclaimed, twirling in his mini Batman costume. Matt, the mini Batman of the house, was running around, his cape fluttering behind him as he practiced his best superhero poses.

You laughed, ruffling his hair. “And you make a perfect Batman, Matt. Is your brother ready?”

Matt nodded eagerly, and as Terry stepped out, you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him in the Robin costume. “I thought I’d keep it in the family,” he said with a grin, taking in your Batgirl outfit.

You teased Terry about his choice of costume. “I never took you for a sidekick,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

Terry just smiled, a secret dancing behind his eyes. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of child laughter. Terry’s arm slipping around your waist.

“Happy Halloween, Y/N,” he whispered, and you leaned into him, feeling the contours of his costume against your own.

“Happy Halloween, Terry,” you replied, unaware of the true depth behind his mask, the real hero that stood beside you.

“Alright, team,” you announced, “let’s get these pumpkins carved. Batgirl and her sidekicks can’t have a dull doorstep on Halloween!”

Matt was the first to dive into the task, his small hands scooping out pumpkin guts with a look of fierce concentration. “I’m gonna make the scariest face ever!” he declared, his eyes alight with the excitement that only a child on Halloween could possess.

Terry leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I bet he’s going to give us a run for our money.”

You smiled, taking up your own carving tools. “We’ll just have to step up our game then, won’t we?”

As the three of you worked on your pumpkins, the front porch became a canvas of creativity and laughter. Terry was meticulous in his carving, creating a bat symbol that looked almost professional. You went for a more traditional approach, crafting a grinning jack-o’-lantern that seemed to reflect the joy of the evening.

Matt looked between the two of you, his eyes wide. “You guys are so good at this!” he exclaimed, his own pumpkin taking shape under his determined hands.

“You’re not so bad yourself, little man,” Terry said, ruffling his brother’s hair. “That’s going to be one spooky pumpkin.”

Once the carving was done, you all stepped back to admire your handiwork. The pumpkins were lined up on the steps, their candles casting a warm glow against the darkening sky.

Terry wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Not bad for a night’s work,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

Matt bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to show off your creations to the neighborhood. “Can we go trick-or-treating now?” he asked, his voice tinged with impatience.

You laughed, nodding. “Yes, we can go now. But first, let’s get a picture of the Bat-family with their pumpkins.”

The three of you huddled together, the camera capturing the moment perfectly—a snapshot of Halloween happiness.

As the night progressed, you, Terry, and Matt wandered the neighborhood, collecting candy and compliments on your costumes. The air was filled with the sounds of Halloween—shrieks, laughter, and the rustling of leaves.

It was a night of masks and merriment, of heroes in costume and the simple joy of being together. And though you didn’t know Terry’s secret—that he was the real Batman—it didn’t matter. Because tonight, he was just Terry, your Robin, and that was more than enough.

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madwomansapologist · 8 months

Note

Mint chip — how did they court their lover? + Bruce/Batman 😳🙏

mint chip — how did they court their lover?

⤷ with: bruce wayne

I actually can talk about it with proper knowledge because he's my husband. So much easier that way.

It will really depend on who you meet first. The whole flow of your relationship (either it's as friends, enemies, lovers), can be decided in minutos upon Bruce meeting you.

If you meet Bruce Wayne first, his whole playboy persona will be an important part of your first interactions.

If you're a reporter who can see through his act, than there would be a sense of a shared secret between you both. You made through one of his many masks, which brings you closer to the real person. In cases like that, his courting will be more honest. There is no need to pretend to be shallow.

He will watch over you, both as Bruce and Batman. He will watch you on the news, hear all your programs during work (it help him focus), read your articles. Then when he talks to you, he can talk about the things that matter to you. He will also watch recording the news whenever he know you're on a dangerous place. He will protect you from afair without you even knowing.

If you're someone from his friend circle, another bilionaire of Gotham, than he have this mask he won't let go. But even tho you had to deal with his act, there is some sense of belonging. Of understanding him. Bruce can pretend from whoever long he need, but there is no way to foolish a real friend.

You care about him. You can see how he apparently doesn't sleep. That he's always in pain somehow. And when Bruce understands that his act didn't fully confused you, then he knows he have someone caring for him. Someone able to look at him and call his bullshit out. Someone that will kick him off parties saying he needs to sleep or he will never see you again.

If that's the case, than Bruce will court you as most imagine. Flowers, caring for you during your day by day, showing his more possessive side during events. In some ways, Bruce will be trying to give all you care back to you.

Now as an enemy, that would be kind of dificult for the both of you. You two have diferences that can't be overlooked. There is a abysm between you both, and somehow that's what brings you closer to one another. There is a sense of understanding, of longing, that can only be shared by two enemies.

You both have secrets. Masks and more masks to protect yourselfs. Is he Bruce Wayne, the man that suffers and loses and pretends, or is he Batman, the thing that endure and change and pretend? Which one is the real one and which one the act? How could he ever come to an answer for that?

And you, the love he feels for you, will just make those questions harder to answer. When he fights with you, he would rather not hurt you. If he sees you, he would observe you for more reasons than just the public safety. When he has the chance of really stopping you, somehow he can't.

What every situation has in common is that Bruce will love from distance before getting close. He will protect you, you being able to do it for yourself or not. He may stay away out of distrust, to protect, to learn more about you: let's not forget, he's a vigilante but first he's a detective. Bruce will make sure that he understands you before doing something.

You may know just one side of him, but do you really? Because when you care about Bruce's sleep, you are caring for Batman's rest. When you care about Batman agressive choices, you're caring about Bruce's heart. When you try to understand one side of him, you are also trying to understand the other.

Either way, that will make Bruce care about you. And isn't his whole identity about caring for others? Isn't it what makes him get out of bed every single day? Bruce cares. He deeply, really cares. And if you're on the list of people he loves, then you will be safe. Not matter what it takes.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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superyum · 13 hours

Text

𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚; 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙

𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨; 𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬/ 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩, 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙫, 𝙫 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙚𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢, 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠/𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚

𝙩𝙩𝙢; 𝙞 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 & 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙨𝙛 & 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝! 𝙄𝙧𝙞𝙨.

Predating! Barry who after many, many years of being secretly in love with Iris, decides that’s it time to stop waiting on her to get outta her relationship and finally notice him, but instead to move on.

Predating! Barry who has some really bad, ridiculous even, dates after coming to that conclusion. He’s starting to regret taking the dating scene seriously again.

Predating! Barry who bumps into you on his was leaving Jitters because he was late getting to a crime scene for his job. No surprise.

Predating! Barry who becomes tongue tied when he actually gets a good look at you—he definitely stares at you mouth agape for about a minute before snapping out of it.

“I-I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I’m late for work.” he sputters out, hands waving around as he gestures to a random direction then to his case and then you.

Predating! Barry who almost fumbled the bag if he didn’t turn back around to awkwardly ask to buy you a coffee as an apology. Not now though! He had to get to work.

Predating! Barry who despite being a spontaneous coffee date, super speeds through over a dozen outfits that he think might impress you. Call him a try hard, but all the dates before this one were rough. He had a good feeling about you.

Predating! Barry who shows up early to said date, only to find you already there. Color him impressed and flattered.

Predating! Barry who manages to not say anything stupid during the date, at least nothing that didn’t make you laugh. Did he mention you have a really nice laugh? Yes. Yes, he did. He accidentally thought it out loud…

Predating! Barry who starts to feel like there’s something there; a spark between the two of you, otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to a second date. Or a third, fourth or fifth one.

Predating! Barry who after the fifth date confesses he didn’t want to go on anymore dates where you weren’t officially his partner.

It was a peaceful night along the board walk of Central Park. The sun long set; the moon settling in the sky and yet the time slipping away didn’t matter to either Barry or you.

The conversation was airy, as it always was between you two. It flowed smoothy discussing your passions and dislikes that there was never a dull moment.

Barry noticed it never was with you. He stops, watching as you continue to walk before you turn around after noticing he wasn’t beside you.

He felt it, the way his tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth when you look at him with concern. But he had to say it—it was now or never—he didn’t want another Iris situation.

“Listen… I…I really like you—you’re amazing, pretty and—and smart! Will you go out with me?..”

There’s silence before you answer, “I thought we were already going out.”

Barry open and close his mouth multiple times before answering, “Well yeah but I mean officially—as lovers…?”

Boyfriend! Barry who is the most romantic man you’ve ever dated. Never fails to greet you with flowers every Saturday date night. And every date is different than the next, sometimes you’d order in and he’d have the most authentic food you’ve ever tasted. Can’t find it anywhere in town.

Boyfriend! Barry who starts to feel some sense of normalcy. When he’s not the Flash, he’s just a guy who’s crashing into your arms after a long day at work. You ask about his day and vice versa, carding your hand through his hair as his breathing slows because this, you, were starting to feel like home.

Boyfriend! Barry who despite still running late to work, makes you breakfast every morning with the best coffee in the city before you’re even up in the morning. How’d he have enough time to do all this always amazed you. He even leaves a little love note on a sticky note, “I miss you,” or “You look beautiful this morning”.

Boyfriend! Barry who enjoys the little domestic moments of your relationship: washing the dishes as you dry them, reading the same book at the same pace so you can discuss it together, when you fix his tie on the off chance of waking up before him, something so mundane as brushing teeth before sleep before sharing a kiss in bed.

Boyfriend! Barry who tries so hard to keep his superhero lifestyle separate from his civilian lifestyle. He didn’t want you hurt because everyone that knows always gets hurt… he can’t lose you. Not when he’s starting to…

Boyfriend! Barry who is the “first” to bring up moving in together. He has all these facts to back up his reasoning without you even needing to question him: He practically already lives at your place, half his clothes are there, his tooth brush, he never really goes home and always spends the night with you.

Boyfriend! Barry who you once again shock with a “Barry, I already gave you a key to my place. I thought it was obvious..” and a shy smile. That’s what that key was for? He thought it was just in case of emergencies. He was rambling for nothing!

Boyfriend! Barry who doesn’t come home for hours until all his meta-human business injuries are 100% healed. He’s not ready to tell you about that side of him yet. Life was perfect; you are perfect.

Boyfriend! Barry whose little white lies turn to even bigger lies when you see something red on his collar one night. He panics, says it’s from work but you start to think something else.

Boyfriend! Barry whose, try as he might, superhero lifestyle starts to interfere with his relationship. Usually he can be in and out before you even notice depending on the situation, but a new dangerous meta has started to reck havoc over the city and he was the only one to save it.

Boyfriend! Barry who starts to leave in the middle of date night, apologizing as he stumbles to put his shoes on, “I have to—It’s work. I’m sorry,” before kissing you with so much emotion, he hopes you get the message—you don’t.

Boyfriend! Barry who starts to miss date night, in fact sometimes he doesn’t even come home during the weekdays. Nevermind it’s because he’s in the middle of a fight or beaten so badly that he stays at Starlabs—you’re worried, feelings with insecurity and doubt rise in you because he hasn’t been answering his phone.

Boyfriend! Barry whose relationship starts to slowly crumble. You’re still present but it’s like there’s this wall suddenly blocking him from reaching you. You’re distant and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes these days. Every time he touches you, you brush away so subtlety he would have missed it if he wasn’t so engrossed in you.

Boyfriend! Barry who still lies when you start to ask questions, deflecting them with answers that further puts a dent in the relationship. Questions turn to arguments, arguments turn to sleeping in separate rooms.

Boyfriend! Barry who can’t say he didn’t know where it started to go wrong but he does. He just thought he could make it work, he needs it to work with you. He needs you. Whether you know it or not, you’re his lighting rod.

Barry stares at the door handle to your shared apartment, stomach twisted in knots at where the stage of your relationship has gotten. He hasn’t thought that he’d ever be coming home to a full house yet it feels so empty without you beside him.

He unlocks the door and turns the handle to open, a rush of cold air hits his face. Feels just like the cold shoulder you’re given him. All because he couldn’t out right and tell you he was The Flash.

He locks the door behind him, his body moving instinctively to the bedroom. He wanted to make sure you were alright—his whole reasoning is to make sure you’re always alright.

But you weren’t alright. He wasn’t alright. You weren’t talking like you both used to and it was literally killing him inside. Maybe there was a little fear in telling you who he was. Everyone else is accepting of it, what if you weren’t?

From where he’s standing, outside your door, listening to any sign that your home and not where you thought he might be, he realizes either way this ends, there’s a chance you could leave him. So why does it matter hiding it now?

Boyfriend! Barry who dressed as the Flash surprises you by suddenly standing in your shared bedroom. You’re both amazed and shocked as you cling to your book. How is the Flash in your room—How does he know where you live!?

Boyfriend! Barry whose heart is beating fast even for his normal standards. This is the closest he’s been to you in a week. You’re still has stunning as the first day he’s seen you. But he has to focus. He’s not here to admire you. He has to patch this hole in the relationship or completely destroy it all together.

Boyfriend! Barry who uses his voice change at first, tells you how he really feels. That he’s a hero, risking his life for the city, fighting meta-humans. It’s a dangerous job, but it’s even more dangerous for the people he loves.

Boyfriend! Barry who voice cracks as he talks about you without directly tell you it’s about you. Goes on and on how he wasted his whole life, despite still being friends, on someone else and when he finally finds someone he loves, he tries to protect them the only way he knows how. But his protection is what’s tearing them apart.

Barry reverts back to his normal voice before stepping out the darkness, “I thought I could juggle both lives without you ever getting involved. I thought I had it handled and we can live our life just like everyone else. But I was wrong. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.” He pulls his mask off, reveling your boyfriend, “From now, there is no more secrets between us. I miss you, baby.”

Boyfriend! Barry who waits with batted breath looking at your blank face, watching you get up from the bed and walk over to him. Reaching a hand out, you touch his suit, tracing his symbol.

Boyfriend! Barry who confirms with words that he’s the Flash after you ask him if this was what he’s been doing when he’s not with you, when he doesn’t answer your calls or leaves suddenly during a date.

Boyfriend! Barry who feels the same relief you do when you say, “Thank God”, and drop your head on his chest, hugging him close. He returns your hug, if not, more bone crushing than yours. Thank God indeed, he really loves you.

Boyfriend! Barry who almost gave away his secret the first time you make-out. You’ve kissed multiple times before but never had you sat in his lap, pushing your chest against his, and grind down on his growing erection. There was so much stimulation, it was overwhelming. He’s lucky you were so horny to accept his explanation of an intense shiver and not him vibrating.

Boyfriend! Barry who curses and thanks the lucky bastard who taught you how to give head before him. The first time you went down on him, it was utterly filthy, he was the one embarrassed. But he couldn’t look away. Your small hand barely reaching round him made him throb, you can feel his excitement on your tongue when you pull back to give the underside of his head some attention, before slobbering back down his cock again.

Boyfriend! Barry who groans loudly the first time he bottomed out inside you. So wet yet tight, entry was easy, your hole was practically sucking him in. It made it difficult for him to think straight inside your warmth. He’s surprised himself he hasn’t came from that alone. He was so painfully hard, the head didn’t even make him go down.

Boyfriend! Barry whose favorite part of your body is your legs and thighs. Doesn’t matter if they’re thin, thick, toned or fatty. The first place he always grabs is your thighs, gliding his hands up and down your legs so slowly it’s ticklish. Stop laughing, he’s trying to map every inch of you into his memory.

Boyfriend! Barry who prefers slow sex over quick sex. It’s the one thing he doesn’t want to rush, taking his time making you squirm and beg for him to give you more. You’re so pretty lying there, how can anyone ever want to stop? He ends up overstimulating himself and you, orgasm after orgasm.

Boyfriend! Barry who favorite positions are cowgirl and missionary. Anything that lets him see your face or feel you closer. He bites his lips bloody watching your breast bounce up and down when he decides to pick up speed or feeling them violently against his chest as he lays on top of you.

Boyfriend! Barry who will wake you up with head. He’s no stranger to seeing you in his dreams. It’s only fair he makes you feel as good as you’ve made him. It’s like he’s making out to your pussy, the way he laps at your soon to be puffy folds and suckle on your growing clit. He pulls an orgasm out of you, successfully waking you up. Ask him why, he’ll say he missed you while you slept.

Boyfriend! Barry who found out you have a thing for him in uniform, that while he’s still adrenaline rushed after dealing with Metas, he finds you and fucks you on the closest surface nearby. He’s rougher, faster, filling your hole with his cock, angling it just right it has you moaning in unison at you clenching down on him and your coming in no time at all.

Boyfriend! Barry who doesn’t think he’s good at dirty talk but the way he praises you and basically announces the way he worships everything about you in bed has you spreading your legs wider as if he did say the filthiest line on earth.

Boyfriend! Barry who becomes way into roleplaying the hero who saves you from an evil villain. Don’t you worry, he’ll protect you—no thanks necessary, it’s his job. But if you insist… after all, how can he to reject the way you kneel in front of him, doe eyes blinking up at him seductively and rubbing him to full hardness? Under the suit, he’s still just a man.

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merletka · 2 months

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pov: you give him a valentine

Hope yall are having a great St Valentine's day! 💖

#dc #jason todd #batfam #red hood #dc comics #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #art

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angelltheninth · 2 months

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DC Comics Men + Post-Patrol Moments

Pairing: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent, Oliver Queen x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, cuddles, soothing kisses, insomnia, denial of feelings

A/N: I would give them the biggest smooches.

BRUCE

Had a really hard time letting his emotional walls down around you. At the start he brushed off your attempts to get closer to him after his patrols but you had every intention to make sure he was okay. It was his own tired mind that enabled you to get close to him. But he was more then a bit flustered when he woke up with his head on your lap.

JASON

Teased you every time you cuddled, he never wanted you to worry about him as much as you were. Yes you were in a relationship but that was the exact reason he wanted to keep you from losing sleep over him. Every kiss was more and more laced with longing and care from you. Until the day you welcomed him home, very late, and he fully collapsed in your arms as he kissed you.

DICK

Sneaks into your bed after patrol, groaning as his body protests from his injuries. It's nothing so bad that a little cuddles and sleep won't fix for him. And while you're his cuddle pillow? He will be good as new by morning guaranteed. Although a few kisses on the really painful areas wouldn't hurt, just keep the kisses on the lighter side, in case he broke something but he doesn't feel like he did.

CLARK

Brings you your favorite midnight snacks because he knew you'd be waiting up for him even though he told you many times that it's not good for you. As a human you need to sleep a lot more then he does. Insomnia will make you sick if you keep it up. It's his superhero duty to make sure that doesn't happen.

OLIVER

Is careful not to wake you up as he gets home. It's almost morning by the time he gets back. As long as he's up, and he knows he isn't going to sleep he might as well take a shower and get breakfast going. That will be a nice surprise for you when you wake up. It's the least he can do since he didn't make it back home last night.

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all-my-ocs-are-evil · 1 month

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Guess who got dragged into another fandom 👀

At first it was just fanart. Then all of a sudden I was reading multiple fics a day and thinking up aus and hcs

Anyways here are some doodles.

#fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital illustration #illustration #comic #dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom fanart #harley quinn #harley quinn fanart #poison ivy #poison ivy fanart #jazz fenton #I drew all of these on my iPad and that made me realize just how much I HATE drawing on my iPad #idk how you guys do it but props!

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martiniluvr · 2 months

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I just cannot get over the thought of Jason Todd cooing while you take his massive cock, talking you through the pain of stretching you out on it the first time, and giggling at each other from euphoria because of just how much love there is between you two AHHHH 😭

this ask is so good I had to let it marinate in my mind…anon take these flowers I beg 💐

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“jay…” you say apprehensively, trailing off as you bite your lip. your eyes are fixed on jason todd’s huge body hovering above you, and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. you look down anxiously at his hard cock resting right below your bellybutton and smearing your skin with precum, and instantly avert your gaze. fuck, that’s big.

“I don’t—um…I don’t think it’s…” you trail off, your cheeks burning. despite your nerves, you feel your arousal drooling out of you. he smiles and shakes his head lightly, reaching down to run his fingers over your entrance.

“don’t worry ‘bout that,” he coos, collecting your wetness on his fingertips as you shudder. “look at me, ma.” you tear yourself away from the sight of his length, meeting his stare. “that’s right. just keep lookin’ at me. you’re gonna be fine.”

his hand comes down to pump his cock, spreading your slick onto his shaft as he aligns himself between your legs. after a pause, he sinks the tip in, and you suck in a sharp breath at the stinging in your walls as he penetrates you. he pauses halfway to allow you to adjust to his girth, his brows furrowing at your tightness. shit, you feel good around him. you let out a whine at the unfamiliar feeling of his size, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“fuck…you’re doin’ good, ma,” he says, the muscles between his shoulder blades tensing. “c’mon, princess, just relax for me. worst part’s almost over, hmm? just a little more.” his words are strained with need; he’s holding himself back from fucking you like he wants to, the way a pretty cunt like yours deserves to be used. soon, he tells himself. soon.

“ready?” he asks, his green eyes searching yours. you nod anxiously, and he bottoms out inside you with a groan. you gasp at the flash of pain as he stretches you, right as jason’s hand comes up to caress your cheek. he looks down at your expression, with your eyes screwed shut and your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and lets out a soft laugh. god, you’re pretty.

“hey, eyes on me, ma,” he rasps gently. you pry your eyelids open to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “that’s right, baby. fuck—doin’ so good.” he rocks his hips gently, and you let out a quiet moan despite the ache. “so fuckin’ good for me.” he thrusts again, a little deeper this time, and you notice the stinging is starting to subside, pleasure gradually taking its place. you moan again, louder this time.

“startin’ to feel it, huh, baby?” he murmurs, his eyes glancing down at your stretched pussy taking him in. heat pools in your chest as you hum in agreement, a sheepish giggle escaping you when jason’s eyes lock back onto yours. he chuckles in return, before planting a longing kiss on your lips as his hips continue to rock slowly.

you whine into him, wrapping your legs around his waist to signal that you’re ready for more; he smiles against your lips as his arm snakes around your back, locking your body against his. oh, you poor thing. you have no idea what you’re in for.

#jason todd when I get my hands on you…#but also soft!jason world domination #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #soft!jason todd #martiniluvr’s asks #dc comics #batman

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mangoisms · 11 months

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i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter five: go ahead and pull the pin | read chapter four

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5.1k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

You get the spare key to Tim. The rest of your weekend is slow, relaxed. He comes over on both Saturday and Sunday and you two do your usual thing.

Each day — and Friday evening — he volunteers to change the dressings on your injuries.

You let him.

It’s easier now, not just because he had already done it the day it happened and because you two talked about it, but because you are starting to see how nice it is to have someone take care of you. Everything between you two is better. More comfortable, more… secure, now that boundaries have been discussed.

He drives you to work for the first couple days of next week, until your knee is good enough for biking again.

You had some reservations about getting back on your bike, not because you hadn’t been on it for a while — though that was a thought — but more because you hadn’t been on it since your accident happened.

You worried it might be uncomfortable for you, but aside from some… renewed fears of falling over, it’s okay. On Wednesday, you get back to it, and by Friday, it’s like nothing ever happened.

You do have a few unsettling dreams about the incident, mostly the kind where you didn’t walk away from it. But you remind yourself that you did, that it was just an accident at the laundromat that caused everything, and not, you know, the Joker blowing up the block. A freak accident, that’s all.

Soon enough, it is Friday, and you, Ms. C, and another class of sixth graders alongside your own are on the ferry, crossing Gotham Harbor, heading south for Metropolis.

The field trip hadn’t been for the zoo there initially; it was Gotham’s, then sudden reports of animal cruelty and mistreatment came out and Poison Ivy’s wrath quickly followed, closing down the zoo with her deadly flora and fauna protecting it. The police arrested the staff but they didn’t catch her. No matter, you think. Metropolis’ zoo is probably better.

But the kids weren’t looking forward to that. Mostly, they were looking forward to being in the same city as Superman, many of them raving about the chance to see him. You personally would be quite fine with not seeing him, since, you know, the only way you could was if you were all in terrible danger and that would be hard to explain to the parents.

So, naturally, on the day of the trip, you expect the kids to be buzzing about it — about being on the ferry, dark waters gliding beneath the ship, the breeze carrying sprays of saltwater.

But nope. Not even a peep about Superman. Instead…

“The Titans? What about the Titans?” you ask, puzzled, leaning against the railing. Ms. C on your left and Amir, the aide for the other class, on your right. The teacher for that class, Mr. Chu, promptly became seasick a few minutes into the ride and stepped inside to get away from it.

Ms. C hums distantly next to you. “Who knows?”

Amir blinks. “You guys didn’t hear?”

She shrugs and turns to look out at the waves, apparently not wanting to know, either.

You do, however. “Hear what?”

They shake their head, pulling out their phone. “It’s been all over the news since yesterday. The Titans announced that one of their core members is stepping down. Well, they were cornered into it, really. Someone got a source and spread the rumor about it, so the Titans had to hold a conference about it.”

“Who was the rumor about?”

“Red Robin.”

Oh, he’s one of Gotham’s. Huh.

“Really? Why?”

They type a few things on their phone, then hand it to you.

You cup your hand over the speaker to hear what looks to be a press conference, with a primly-dressed woman standing up at a podium. The banner reads: TITANS’ RED ROBIN STEPS DOWN.

“Oh, here.” Amir leans over to turn on the captions, then turns sharply as someone yells. “Woah, hey, Brianna, don’t do that! No, I don’t care if you can swim, we went over this! You aren’t allowed to jump overboard…”

They step away to continue lecturing the pouting girl standing by the railing.

Your eyes find the captions at the bottom.

“Red Robin is not retiring. He is simply taking a step back from the team and this is perfectly fine, as the team has many members to fill in for him. As for Gotham City itself, we cannot speak for it, though the Titans would like to emphasize that the city remains well taken care of regardless.”

Amir returns to your side, smoothing a hand down their clothes.

“So, he’s stepping down,” you say, handing their phone back.

“It’s not surprising, since some of the older members have done the same, like Nightwing. They’re still involved on occasion, but they’re not out there, you know, hero-ing.”

“What about Gotham, then?”

They shrug. “People see Nightwing in New York sometimes. That’s probably what’s gonna happen. But later, I think. With this news, a lot of people are thinking things might get a little crazy around here.”

“Ah. Assuming they can try their luck?”

“Most likely.”

You feel for Red Robin in that moment. It’s not too much to ask for, to return to the other side of his life, only for those plans to be pushed off even longer as those here want to try and take advantage of his absence.

You couldn’t do it, you think. Live that kind of life, constantly sacrificing yourself. Makes it all the more important to appreciate the ones that do. You’re partial to the League but the Titans are equally as important. Without them, earth would be conquered multiple times over. And that’s just not fun at all.

The rest of the trip goes well. The kids get excited about Superman again when the ferry finally docks in Metropolis. They even get a treat when they glimpse him in the sky, accompanied with the sound of him breaking the sound barrier as he rushes off somewhere. Despite that worrying you a bit — who knows if it’s something simple, like a cat stuck in a tree, or much more dire, like aliens invading — everything is fine.

All of you are running around making sure no one gets left behind or lost, leaving you exhausted by the time you return to Gotham at five. Then you have to wait even longer to make sure each kid gets picked up.

You get back to Rose Oaks at seven. Tim had texted you two hours ago letting you know he had fed the boys and told you to come by his place for dinner.

Not one to say no to free food or being with him, you stop by your place to shower the day away and change into a pair of shorts and an old softball t-shirt, then head to his place.

“Starting to think I should just give you a spare,” he says when he pulls the door open, a spatula in his hand, lips quirking when he sees you.

“Well, you do have mine,” you agree. “Unless you did weird stuff with your unsupervised access to my place.”

“I didn’t install cameras in your bedroom or steal your underwear. Scout’s promise.”

“You were a Boy Scout?”

“Not even a little bit,” he says easily and you laugh, stepping inside.

You slip off your slides and leave them by the door. He started to implement that rule a little while after he met you. Said it just makes more sense and makes cleaning easier. You think so, too, but the fact that he did it because of you makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.

“How was Metropolis?”

“Meh. Metropolis.”

“What, not a fan?”

“The city itself is fine. But their baseball team?”

“The Metropolis Monarchs that continue to beat the Knights without fail every time they play each other?”

“It’s just perfect,” you grumble. “They don't have a Joker and they always beat us. So not fair.”

Tim chuckles, returning to the kitchen. “So, when and where are they playing each other?”

“Two weeks. Here. Can’t wait to hear all the Monarch fans complaining about having to come here. Pretentious jerks.”

He laughs and resumes his work at the stove.

The TV plays in the living room. You flop onto the couch with a grunt, glad to be off your feet.

“You can change the channel,” he calls, looking to be flipping something on the stove. At his elbow on the counter is a plate of what looks to be freshly-made chocolate chip pancakes. Your stomach rumbles at the sweet smell wafting over to you.

You turn your eyes to the flatscreen, where GNN plays.

You read the news banner at the bottom. GOTHAM CITY LOSES RED ROBIN. Looks like they’re still talking about it.

“That’s rough,” you comment, leaning back into the cushions.

“What?”

You relay it to him.

“I mean, that is sort of what’s happening, isn’t it?” he asks, shutting off the burner and moving the pan aside.

“I dunno. I guess. I just think it must suck for him.”

“Isn’t it his responsibility?” Tim asks, his back still to you as he pulls two plates from the cabinet. “So, you know. It’s only fair for people to be wondering that. To be upset.”

“I don’t agree. I mean, I don’t know this guy’s life story but he’s sacrificed a lot to do what he has, right? I don’t think it’s too much to ask for us to let him go and return to his life. ‘Cause it’s kinda crazy what people like him do.”

“They have to do it, though. Especially here.”

“Well, that’s the government’s fault. It’s good he and the others step up, believe me, but it’s also not really a sustainable model for the rest of your life, is it?”

He shakes his head. “In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need them. But we do. And now this guy is just leaving.”

You purse your lips, not used to this stubbornness from him. No, that’s not the right way to say it — you know he is stubborn. It’s more like… Tim is compassionate. Empathetic. You’ve always been supportive of the superheroes of your world and he’s agreed with you. But he’s never been like this. Uncompromising in his disapproval. Almost like it’s personal.

“Come on, Tim. Don’t be like that. I think it’s gonna be fine. Things will be crazy for a little while but when aren’t they? Let Red Robin off the hook. And give him a break. I’m sure he gets enough shit for sharing his name with a restaurant and now this.”

Tim lets out a surprised laugh and you smile, feeling the tension ease. Not just between you over the course of this discussion, but the tension within him, too. You can’t possibly understand what bothers him so much about Red Robin but you don’t think either of you can condemn him. No one can.

But of course, that is not how the world works and you know this by the heated debate going on between the hosts on the news, some strongly disapproving of Red Robin stepping down, some supportive, and others downright severe about his existence as a vigilante in Gotham in the first place.

You switch it to one of the many streaming platforms he has, navigating to The Spongebob Squarepants Movie.

Your phone vibrates with the familiar chime of your email. You groan silently, predicting an email from the school, but when you look at it, it’s from the rec center, from the instructor, Hana, who runs the pottery classes you attend bi-monthly.

You skim the message. It’s for the class next Friday. Something about… Oh. Bring a friend and you get an extra slot for the kiln and the friend gets one, too. Ohhh, very nice, actually.

See, you pay for those classes and with that, you get to use their clay and paint, as well as one free slot for the kiln each class. It’s usually enough for you but you won’t say no to two slots. Not at all…

You eye Tim’s back.

You’ll think about it.

Inviting him, you mean.

He knows you do it, having seen some of the figures and pottery you have, usually expressing his admiration for some of the more complicated pieces, like that one bowl you have with a carved squid.

“You should be an art teacher,” he had said, looking over the bowl with an impressed gaze.

“It’s just a hobby I picked up when I moved here. Had to get out and stuff and the classes were the best way to do it. I prefer my social studies. I mean, it would be great if I could, like, teach and paint and do otherwise art-related things but I don’t think admin would let me. Not unless I was a full teacher and that won’t be for a while.”

“But not impossible, right?”

“No,” you laugh. “I guess not.”

Ah, you’ll think about it.

For now, you get up and help Tim assemble your dinner. Then you two settle down for the movie, which he hasn’t seen. You’ve gotten him through the first few seasons of Spongebob — everything until season six is solid; everything after is… okay — but he still hasn’t seen this, which you think is a crime. You have fond memories of this movie from when you were a kid.

When you finish your food, you set your plate on the table and snuggle back into the cushions. Tim finishes his, then leans forward to do the same, moving them out the way so you both can put your feet up. He leans back, closer to you this time, your arm pressed to his. The contact goes straight to your head, your heart starting to pound.

To distract yourself, you gesture to the TV and say, “We absolutely need to try and make a Triple Gooberberry Sunrise.”

“You’re insane,” he says, but pauses the movie to pick up his phone and pull up Instacart. “Alright. I have the vanilla ice cream and bananas. What else do we need?”

You huddle closer, leaning your chin against his arm. “We need the candy for the face. And the chocolate. And cherries. Ooh and the cup it’s in. If possible.”

“If possible,” he scoffs, typing quickly. “The only way we’re doing this is if we have all the right tools to create an exact replica.”

“An exact replica? Should probably get another carton of ice cream. Also, I don’t think the laws of nature allow for that. I mean, not totally.”

“Hey, if they can do it underwater, we can do it in real life.”

“I like your attitude, Tim Drake.”

He shoots you a grin that makes everything inside of you heat up and you look back at his phone to try and recover, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Do you use your actual name for orders?”

“Nope. And with that said, you mind grabbing it when it gets here?”

“No. But if the driver murders me when I do, I’m haunting you.”

“I want to say the danger involved with our Instacart driver is very low but unfortunately, we do live in Gotham, so the chance isn’t totally off the table.”

“Such is life. Well, you better tip good anyway.”

“Of course,” he says, slightly affronted, mostly because it is known that Tim tips exceedingly well. Stupidly almost. But you say almost because you live in a capitalist hellscape where most food industry workers rely on tips so, there’s no limit there, you think. Especially if you have as much money as he does.

He places the order, you rewind to a frame with the ice cream on display, then you two try to get a plan of action in order.

You fetch the groceries when they arrive and Tim takes out the ice cream. You did manage to find a frosted blue ice cream bowl that looks eerily similar to the one in the movie and together, you two shape the body of the Triple Gooberberry Sunrise with spoons. It’s a lot of ice cream and ice cream melts, so despite using spoons to shape it, your fingers are still sticky by the end of it but your lower back aches from all the laughing you two did while sculpting it, having been shooting insults at each other over your abilities to sculpt.

You shove the ice cream in the freezer in the meantime, then work on the features. You use M&Ms for the eyes and nose, then deconstruct those chunky Twizzler ropes for the smile. Tim works on the banana, cutting one in half for the arms, then another in half for the head. He offers the other half to you, which you take a bite out of, and he then finishes.

You snap a few toothpicks in half to pin the cherries to the tips of the bananas, then bring out the ice cream again to add the finishing touches. First, though, you need to add the chocolate shell at the top. Like a hat of sorts.

“Don’t blow it,” he says, watching you pop the lid on the chocolate syrup.

“I’m not gonna blow it.”

So, naturally, you do blow it.

And that sounds dramatic, you know, but it’s not. It’s just, you hold the bottle above the top of the mound of ice cream, the face already made with the M&Ms and a single Twizzler rope, and the syrup comes out more syrupy than you expect. So, you squeeze it out and it immediately drips down the face. Like right down the middle, and you both look at it for a second, then each other, and then you’re laughing so hard, you have to hold onto the counter.

Tim manages to get it together before you, finishing adding the hard shell, though it drips a little more down the sides, then adds the bananas.

And it looks…

“So stupid,” he laughs, holding onto the counter. “So, so, so stupid.”

You’re still laughing. You can’t stop laughing. But you can’t help but think he looks beautiful like this, cheeks flushed, blue eyes bright, a smile permanently etched onto his lips as his laughter fills the kitchen.

You can’t help but feel something so big, so full of warmth, ballooning in your chest until you think you might explode with it. That he gave into your wish to make the stupid ice cream in the first place. That he is always willing to indulge you. And the thought chokes you, too much to handle here, so you set those thoughts and feelings aside and look at the stupid ice cream again to get back to where you were, more mirth taking over you.

You list into him and he catches you, laughing, too.

You think that despite it looking stupid, the fact that it was made with so much joy makes it taste that much better.

(Though neither of you can finish it and you two end up in an ice cream coma on the couch, resuming the movie, and it is with great reluctance a few hours later that you peel yourself from his side and go back to your place.

This time, however, with his spare key and with the surety that he has carved out his own spot in your heart and that no one but him can fill it.

That that doesn’t matter, anyway, because you want only him.

But with that thought comes the acknowledgment that he most likely doesn’t feel the same and that’s okay.

You want him in any capacity that you can have him.

And this is enough.

It has to be enough.)

Tim is busy the next day, hanging out with friends, which is fine. You don’t mind the alone time.

You laze around for most of the day. Do some grading you still have but they’re easier assignments you finish quickly, marking them up with your blue glitter pen and making the usual smiley faces and little notes. You take a moment to appreciate the easiness of it. With it being late April, the end of the semester will come up quickly and you’ll have deadlines for final grades.

But you won’t worry about it yet.

School lets out in June, then you’re home free for the summer. That’s the nice part of working for the school. Your breaks coincide with theirs, so you get a nice summer. Nice breaks in general.

At ten-thirty, you prepare your dirty clothes to take them downstairs. You slide your basket to the living room, then step into the kitchen to grab detergent. But when you open the bottom cabinet with your supplies and reach for the tub of detergent, you find it decidedly empty.

You groan. You completely forget. You had run out of your pods and needed more. You were supposed to do that… yesterday? Probably. But after making sure the kids were picked up then being dogged by hunger and achy feet, it slipped your mind.

Ah, no matter. Tim should have some. You hope. Speaking of, you should ask to borrow his Costco card again. It’s hard to go back to buying single packs of detergent at the store. Some things just need to be stockpiled.

(Mostly so situations like these don’t happen.)

You heft your laundry basket to your hip, pull on your sandals, then grab your keys and step out.

You take the elevator one floor up, finding Tim’s apartment easily. He didn’t respond to your texts about the detergent and you don’t know if his friends are still there, so, despite the new key on your key ring, you knock.

You only get one in before the door swings open quickly and you jump. At the abruptness of the motion, then at seeing someone you definitely do not know standing there.

With unruly ginger hair, a freckled face, and an undeniable air of mischief, he grins at you in a way that has you on guard immediately.

“Hi. Are you Tim’s new teacher friend?”

“Um —”

“Bart! You can’t — oh —” Tim says your name, a little panicked, and he shoves past the guy — Bart? — giving him a look and shooing him away.

He backs off, only for two others to peek around him. A pretty girl with short, cropped blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes, then an equally pretty guy with short black hair and blue eyes. They look very curious at your appearance and you feel terribly underdressed in a pair of old workout shorts and a ratty shirt from high school.

“Guys,” Tim hisses.

They wave at you and, with a fair amount of uncertainty, you wave back.

Seemingly satisfied with that, the three of them disappear into the living room, hurried, hushed voices reaching your ears.

“Sorry,” you breathe as soon as they’re out of earshot. “I’m so sorry, Tim —”

He waves his hands, stopping you. “Hey, hey, what are you apologizing for?”

You wince. “Interrupting your time with your friends? It’s just, I ran out of detergent, so I was wondering if I could borrow a pod or two.”

“Of course,” he says immediately. “Give me a sec, alright?”

You nod and he disappears from the entryway. You hear the sound of a kitchen cabinet closing, then he’s returning, passing you two pods.

“Let me come with you,” he says, slipping socked feet into a pair of slides.

“You don’t have to —”

“It’s okay. I haven’t seen you today.” Of course, he says that with the implication that because he hasn’t seen you, he must take this opportunity now, because he —

Missed you?

Well, shit.

Your face flares with heat at the thought. Your fingers grow sweaty from holding the basket. You try to compose yourself as Tim shuts the door behind him and locks it.

“Anyway,” he goes on, turning to you, the two of you starting for the elevator. “Bart didn’t say anything weird, right?”

In safer waters, you can relax.

For the most part.

“He just said something about me being your teacher friend. So, no.”

Tim visibly relaxes, pressing the button to go down as you stop in front of the elevator.

“Good. He can be… a handful sometimes. The other two you saw were Cassie and Conner.”

“Well, tell them it was nice to meet them. Sort of.”

He exhales a laugh, running a hand through his hair. He’s in a forest green t-shirt and jeans. Simple clothes, by any means, yet devastatingly handsome as usual. Man.

Ding. The doors slide open. A man steps out and you two step in. He presses the button for the ground floor.

“You do yours today?” you ask, wiggling your basket in indication of your question.

“No, I’ve been with the others pretty much all day. I’ll have to do it tomorrow. Or later tonight when they leave. If they ever leave.” He says the last part mock-exasperated, rolling his eyes, but you can spy the fondness tugging at his mouth.

“Be more grateful,” you tease.

“Say that when you’ve handled them all day,” he shoots back.

You chuckle, turning to watch the numbers tick by.

“So,” he starts a minute later, regaining your attention. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About stepping back from WE. I think… you’re right.”

“Yeah? Gonna try, um, wedding photography?”

“I’m not that desperate yet,” he chuckles. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure what I will do. Get back into photography, yeah, maybe some tennis, but only if someone agrees to play with me…”

“I’ll play tennis with you if you play catch with me one of these days.”

“Done,” he says easily. “Anyway, I’m still trying to figure it out and I told Lucius I wasn’t completely out of it. If R&D needs help, I’m happy to, but… no more office visits.”

“Probably for the best. Was your family okay with it?” And by family, you specifically mean Bruce.

“They were okay with it. I think they might’ve expected it,” he admits, a tad sheepish. “In any case, I just wanted to let you know that you were right.”

You shake your head. “All that matters is that you’re happy, Tim. Anything else is —” you wave a hand “— whatever.”

“Well, still,” he says, and his voice is soft, and so is the look in his eyes. “Thanks.”

You smile and look away, cursing the way your heart stutters at the expression on his face being directed at you.

It’s quiet the rest of the ride down. You start humming Ocean Man when it get too quiet.

His eyes crinkle with a smile when he recognizes it. “I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“It’s a good song,” you say. “Like the kind of song you play driving down the coast. But, like, the coast coast. Not whatever Gotham’s got going on.”

“Yeah, I don’t think the backdrop of our polluted waters will go with it too much.”

You snicker.

He holds the laundry door open for you and you nod your gratitude in response, heading for the washers.

“If you wanna head up, you can,” you tell him, opening a few and inspecting the inside to see which is good enough for you.

He shrugs, hands tucked in his pockets, leaning on the washer next to the one you decide is good. “Like I said. Haven’t seen you today.”

Well. You’ll hardly complain.

“And I was thinking,” he starts, a forced kind of nonchalance in his voice that gets your attention, even as you dump your clothes into the washer.

“That’s never good.”

He rolls his eyes, wry grin tugging at his lips. “Well. I know you expressed some grievances over the Monarchs coming to play the Knights…”

“Yeah?” you ask, eyebrow raising. You toss in the pods, then pull out your phone. They finally fixed the app, so you no longer have to go the old-fashioned way. You still prefer it, but one does get tired of their hands smelling like coins.

“And,” he goes on, blue eyes twinkling with something that makes warmth spool in your chest like cotton candy. “I thought, since when we went the Knights won their first ever Opening Day match… maybe we should go to this game, too.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he says, pleased, pulling out his phone and brandishing an email, confirming a purchase of two tickets to the game in two weeks, on Saturday.

“Tim!”

“Hey, I’m just doing my due diligence in making sure the Knights have a fair shot at beating the Monarchs.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, flabbergasted.

He shrugs, smiling still. “Well, since it was your first ever game for them and they won… doesn’t seem too far-fetched to say you’re their good luck charm.”

“That is not how that works,” you say, and yet, you’re unbearably happy, mostly at the thought of him doing this for you. “You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve paid for my ticket —”

“No, no, this is my — what do you call it? My civic responsibility to society as the son of a billionaire.”

“That was — a joke…” For the most part. Funny how it’s easier to say that when you don’t know him or his family, but when you do, it’s almost uncomfortable.

But of course, it is not exactly incorrect, either.

Tim has a lot of money. Bruce Wayne has a lot of money. You do not.

Your face burns with heat. “Thanks, Timmy. That’s… really nice of you.”

Too nice, maybe. Much too nice.

“I don’t mind,” he says and it sounds like he means it, too, that soft look in his gaze again. Your stomach swoops like you missed a step going down.

“Besides,” he adds, the two of you heading for the door again. “I was thinking we could get something to eat beforehand. Something light since I know you said no baseball game is complete without a hot dog… but in that case, you can pay for that.”

“I will pay for that,” you mutter.

He laughs. “See? Fair’s fair.”

Easy for him to say.

But you’d be lying through your teeth if you said any of this displeased you.

It’s Tim, after all.

With him, you’re weak, like putty in his hands. He doesn’t know that, you think. Doesn’t know how much he means to you, how much you would do for him.

But he can’t know. Because knowing that means knowing the depth of your affection, too, and that is a secret you’ll keep locked away until the end of your days.

(Thinking that is dangerous, you know. Because it’s Gotham and nothing is impossible in Gotham and you hardly want to tempt fate.

Doesn’t make it any less true, though.)

━ end notes

1. i know they really try to pass batman and the others off as urban legends these days but. it doesn't make much sense when you consider the notoriety of say, the justice league or as seen here, the titans. you can't just have a team of superheroes and not have the public not knowing shit about that. however, i will say i do think they can still balance fear and myth while being well-known. bruce definitely can anyway

2. on that note, it always made more sense to me that the justice league, the titans, and basically all the superhero teams have to have some kind of pr team/department. they're super-powered or otherwise very talented but i think both the distance of a pr team is needed, as well as the fact that, well, that's strictly their job, to get the teams out of any messes they create. additionally, there has to be some kind of bureaucratic element to all of it, at least regarding who joins on missions and what not. basically, i don't think they would let teams of superheroes run around without supervision. not to say they're, like, extensions of the government because That Would Be Bad but... you know? gotta have accountability

3. the early seasons of spongebob are great and so is the movie. peak childhood moments for me and still now tbh. it's just very nostalgic. also as we all know food just looks so much better in cartoons and the triple gooberberry sundae is one of those things too. also kind of insane that they made him, like, drunk off it. old 2000s childhood tv shows are just insane in general

4. ocean man is a deeply excellent song and i was first introduced to it through the spongebob movie and i still regard it dearly. even if its silly its fun and catchy ok

reblogs are appreciated!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #dc comics imagine #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #batfam x reader #batfam x you

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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 — 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, speedsters being speedsters, overstimulation, reader cries but it’s not dacryphilia, dub con towards the end but it’s not intentional, tap out, noise control, aftercare, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

Wally should not have been sweating this hard.

he could run across the country in a matter of minutes and never break into a sweat. he could circle the world multiple times in under a day and only get a drop or two.

he should not have been sweating like this.

but he was, because he was forcing himself to hold back. with his hands wrapped around your hips, he pulled your rear back to meet his quick thrusting. you moaned his name each time your ass smushed against his pelvis, and he grit his teeth.

what he really wanted to was to tell you to hold on to something because he was going to lose himself in an assault of blurry, rapid thrusts into you.

“Faster…” you whined, gripping the pillows your face was nuzzled into. you always got too loud, and it was much too late at night. those damned neighbors of yours had already had the cops out to talk to you three separate times in the first month of you and Wally dating, so the two of you tried whatever you could to keep yourself quieter. “Wally…”

“Don’t tell me that,” Wally grunted, giving your ass a playful slap. he marveled at the ripples through it, and the way you mewled and arched in response. damn, he was lucky to have you. “We’re trying to be good, remember?”

but you were already too dickdrunk to truly comprehend what you were asking for. you’d never experienced Wally’s true, full speed, especially not when he fucked you, but right now, you wanted it. he was just perfectly proportionate to hit all the right spots when he was inside you that had you needy for as much as he could give you. digging your nails into the pillows, you push back to meet his hips with twice the force, as if demanding more. “F—faster!”

and fuck, did he want to just give it to you already.

Wally moans in awe, both hands sliding down to grope your ass, spread it apart so he can watch the way his cock disappears into you, instead. “If I start…” he mutters, distracted, and shifts, grinding his hips to change his angle. he likes the way you cry out, and bury your face in the pillow to muffle it. he could feel the sweet, bundle of nerves he was hitting now, “I might not… be able to stop… until I cum…” the speedster knew himself better than that. he knew that you could rev him up like no other, and he would have a much harder time bringing himself back down. he tried to remember that he could overwhelm you if he lost it, there was even a possibility that he could hurt you, and he needed to be careful.

“Don’t stop!” you cry out, slamming yourself back against him. it seemed to be the only words you’d heard him say, and you feared he’d try to pull out before you were satisfied. your walls clench around him, as if pleading with him not to leave. “D— don’t stop! Wally, fuck— me— faster!”

“Aw, hell—“ Wally felt himself lose the battle when you tightened around him, and he reaches out to wrap both arms around your midsection, hauling you up on to your knees with your back flush against his torso so he can suck on your neck, “you want fast?” you were nodding, bouncing against his rocking hips as he asked, “I’ll give ya fast, babe.”

surely, if he was really cautious, he could give you what you wanted without losing control.

right?

when his pace picks up, you whimper, graciously. your eyes threatening to roll back as he pounds your hyper-sensitive nerve endings. the veins that bulged and etched the length of his cock rub against your fluttering walls. the newfound speed behind his thrusting elicits a symphony of skin slapping, much louder and frequent than before, and you started to lose track of which thrust was which. it was nearly a barrage of fierce pleasure as he battered your insides.

“G—gonna cum!” you yelped, jouncing up and down wildly to his superhuman rhythm. “Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” you couldn’t say it enough to clear the building orgasm in your belly, so you just kept screaming it until Wally clamped a hand over your mouth. “Gonna c—“

at least he could think to do that, to keep your snooty neighbors from causing a fuss again, but other than that, he was out of it, too.

you felt too good and he was going too fast to slow down and savor it. he wanted to lose himself in his speed and drain his energy into you. “Ffff—fuck—“ he was shuddering, his free hand groping at your tender breast. “Almost… almost there…” he mumbled it against your neck, but the pistoning of his hips had only gotten faster. rougher. until the movement itself had become a blur. he was no longer just ramming into you at break-neck pace, Wally was rumbling with vibrations, moving much too quick for your blissed out brain to even try to comprehend.

it was too much.

you couldn’t handle it, after all.

and you couldn’t even tell him.

you scream against his palm, holding on to his forearms as best you could with your violent ricocheting. you couldn’t think to give him a tap and let him know you needed to stop, for what felt like millions of vibrating thrusts were numbing your mind, the shape of him reverberating as it drove, relentlessly, into your spasming canal.

your orgasm had come, and gone, and then another one had erupted without so much as a single break in his jackhammering, and had he slowed down, he might’ve been able to see how fervently you trembled, or how your eyes have started to well up with tears for being positively overstimulated.

you tried to cry his name and beg him to ease up, knowing it would be muffled by his hand, but only a string of half syllables and vowels died against his fingers.

you couldn’t form the words because he’d already broken you.

“You’re so tight,” he whimpered, kissing and nipping at your ear, “feels good! Can’t… can’t stop…!” a running tear breaks past the barrier and soaks his fingers, but he doesn’t even notice, fucking you senseless and so fast that your mind was blank. it was like he was trying to fuck right through you. “I love it when you cum… I love it!”

had you cum again?

you hadn’t even noticed until you heard him say it; his voice sounded far off even though he was right in your ear. every sensation had been bumped up to what felt like a thousand, so every single time you felt his swollen tip jab into you, it felt like you were falling apart.

“You good?”

you needed a break, you were so dazed and flustered, that you just reach down with both hands between your legs and hold on to your own, throbbing cunt, pressing against your button to soothe it with one hand, while the other nudges Wally’s cock in a desperate attempt to push him out.

this time, when you don’t nod to answer him, he does seem to realize something is wrong. “Baby…” he whispers, flushed, as the hand on your mouth outstretches to splay against the headboard instead, trying to steady himself. “You okay?” his breathing is ragged, but it’s nothing compared to your own. when he’s no longer holding you to his chest, you slump forward into the mattress and bury your face in the pillows, wailing. Wally’s eyes widen, and every terrible thought that could possibly run through his brain does in that moment. did he hurt you? why were you crying? “Baby!” gripping the headboard, Wally forces himself to slow down, gradually before he stills inside of you. it was then that he felt just how ferociously your body was shaking; you were practically vibrating, yourself, still impaled on him, and he stares, uncertainly, at your back as you snub. “H—hey…” he coos, running his fingers in delicate strokes along your spine, slowly petting you for comfort. for once, he didn’t know what to do; he’d never seen you like this before. “Did I hurt you?” you shook your head, but he couldn’t tell it you were lying to him or not. your face was still buried in the pillows, but even then, he could hear you sobbing. one palm lays flat against your back and glides upward, until he can stroke the back of your head, biting down on his lip. “You sure?”

another nod, but this time, you reach up and blindly grab his arm. gripping him at the bicep, you tug on it, childishly as if you were pulling on his shirt tail. but he takes the hint and leans over you, pressing his toned, strong torso to your back so he can nuzzle in the crook of your neck.

“You scared me, baby.” he whispers, wrapping both arms around you. “What happened?”

you were still sniffling when you barely turn your head for him to kiss your wet cheek, and you croak, still in shock that it was even possible, “I—I’ve never cum that hard before…”

#wally west x you #wally west x reader #wally west #wally west smut #kid flash x you #kid flash x reader #kid flash #the flash x you #the flash x reader #the flash #dc comics #dc x reader #dc smut #dc x you #dc comics x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics smut

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