Kat's blog

20/fem/Pisces; Previous acc: ask-asahi-the ace; Icon belongs to Picrew

[lyssie2847]

Batty Batty

Yandere Batboys x Neglected!Reader - Chapter Two

Previous Part

Damian is preparing for school. He grabs his lunchbox from the countertop and places it into his perfectly packed school bag. “I’ll see you for dinner, Pennyworth!” he calls out, before exiting the kitchen, but Alfred steps in front of him before he can leave the manor through the front door. 

“Master Damian,” he explains coolly, “I’m afraid your driver has caught a nasty cold. Mr. Jacque will not be able to take you to school this morning.” 

Damian seems to consider this for a moment, before reasoning, “Alright. I will just ride to school with my sibling. It’s not ideal, but it will do for the day.” 

At this Alfred raises an eyebrow. “Miss Y/N does not take a driver to school, Master Damian.” 

Even Damian can’t wipe the look of surprise off his face. “How does she get to school then?” 

“The bus,” Alfred replies plainly, with a shrug of carelessness unbecoming of a man like him. 

“There’s a bus?” 

“Yes. It’s about a twenty minute walk from here.” 

“And she takes it everyday?” 

“Since the two of you stopped carpooling, yes. Now, would you like me to see if someone else can drive you?”

Damian has a moment of internal debate. Of course, he doesn’t want to be seen on the bus. That was simply unfitting for Wayne. He scoffed at the very thought. But on the other hand, one of his siblings -even if it is just you- has been walking to and from public transit everyday for at least a few months. Were you out of your mind? What if someone saw you? What if someone hurt you? Do you have any idea what kind of ruffians take the bus in Gotham? 

“No,” he says after giving it some thought. “I’ll join my sibling on the bus.” Alfred gives a nod, before stepping aside and letting Damian pass. The robin has to jog to make it in time, as you had left about ten minutes ago, but he will catch you. He isn’t worried about that. 

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 

You are the kind of ruffian that takes the bus. Everyday since the year started, as you are a senior and Damian is a freshman. You enjoy the bus. Each morning for roughly a half hour, you’re able to pop in your headphones and read. And the bus driver knows you by this point, so sometimes there’s light conversation when you enter/exit. It’s a ritual you look forward to. 

This ritual is interrupted when you hear the light footsteps of somebody approaching from behind. You immediately rip your headphones out, so that you can clearly hear them coming. This is Gotham, afterall. Turning around to catch a glance of the person drawing closer, you’re shocked to see it’s none other than Damian Wayne, the youngest bat child.  

When he reaches you, he gives a firm nod. “Sibling,” he greets, and you can hear the faintest sound of him breathing slightly heavier than usual. He must have run from the manor. But why? 

“Damian…”you acknowledge cautiously, the fingers on your right palm subconsciously folding inward to rub your scar, “What are you doing here?” 

The baby bat looks at you like you’re the dumbest person alive. “I’m taking the bus with you, clearly.” 

And now you feel like the dumbest person alive. “But you never take the bus. Jacque’s not driving you?” 

“He’s fallen ill.” 

“Ah.” The two of you complete your walk to the bus stop in silence. 

Once the bus driver, Frank, pulls up, you enter as usual. “Mornin’ Y/N,” he greets you with a headnod your way. 

“Good morning, Frank,” you grin out, tossing a muffin his way. You turn back to watch Damian get on and mentally face palm when you see him drop a crisp twenty-dollar into the change slot. He has literally no idea how much a bus ride actually costs. 

You sigh inwardly, before making your way over to your usual window seat. This morning is still salvagable. Just when you move to pop your headphones back in and pull out your book, you feel a weight come down in the seat next to you. Tilting your head up, you can’t stop the look of disappointment that flashes fleetingly across your face when you see Damian has sat next to you. The look does nothing to deter him. 

“Why do you take the bus?” 

This catches you off guard a bit. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to ride in the same car as me.” 

He seems to think back to doing so for a moment. “So I did,” he nods, “I assumed Father would find you another driver.” 

“Well, he didn’t,” you answer with a shrug. The speed with which you reply reveals a bit of your bitterness, even though you try to play it off with casualty. 

The rest of the ride passes in silence, but when you exit the bus Damian grabs your forearm. “I’ll see you on the way back.” 

“I have clubs, so I take the later bus back,” you reply, shrugging his hand off of you. 

“Fine,” he acknowledges, and walks away without another word. He’s always so pleasant to talk to. 

And with interaction the day goes on as usual. Class goes by without a hitch. You sit in the back, answer questions when asked. Nobody knows you’re a Wayne, and it’s better that way. Normal lunch. Today you sit in the library and do homework. Shifts at the diner end really late, so your only option is to do your work now. 

By the time the final bell rings, you’re more than happy to head to work. Grabbing your duffle bag from your locker, you slide your text books in and head to the bus station. This particular bus doesn’t stop at the school, so you won’t have to wait at the same station as Damian. That thought brings you comfort as you begin your short walk. Popping your headphones in, you let the music drown out the sounds of Gotham: construction work, police sirens, car horns. 

The peace washes over you to such an extent, that you don’t notice the youngest Wayne trailing behind you. 

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Damian begins following you after the final bell rings. Something about your conversation this morning made him curious about your daily routine, even though he’s never given it any thought before now. He watches as you grab your bag, unsure of its contents, and he watches as you walk right out of the school—despite your claim that you had club activities after school today. 

The youngest Wayne stays about twenty steps behind you as you walk right past the bus stop in front of the school. He’s not sure where you’re heading, but he knows it’s not home, and he knows it’s not school. Which are the only two places you should be. Does Father know about this? 

Keeping a distance while you board the bus, Damian tugs his hood up to hide his face as he boards afterwards, dropping another twenty into the slot. Damn, this bus thing is a rip-off. He allows you to find your way to the back, as he takes the first row. As the buildings and street signs begin to blur outside the window, he notices you’re moving into the heart of Gotham. The surroundings become noticeably more run down. There’s a heavier police presence. It’s certainly a far cry from Wayne manor. The kind of area he and his brothers only frequent on patrol. What the hell could you possibly be doing here? 

Another few stops pass before you get off. When you move to the front, Damian’s sure to turn his head so that only the back of his hood is visible. You don’t suspect a thing. Then he follows you off. 

Not far from the bus station, he watches as you enter a dingy looking restaurant. Really, it looks like shit hole. Is this why you never eat dinner with them? You’re too busy eating here, in this dump?  He contemplates as he watches you from outside. Surely Alfred’s food is far superior to this place. But his thinking is interrupted when he sees you re-emerge from the bathroom…wearing a uniform? 

Damian spends the next two hours watching you work. He can’t help but be mesmerized by the way you speak to the customers. You refill coffee with a smile before they’ve even realized their cup has run low. Regulars make pleasant conversation, and you slip from booth to booth as if floating. He’s never seen you look so natural. So…not on edge. The thought disturbs him. 

And don’t think he hasn’t noticed that boy you’ve been talking with. Laughing at his jokes, which are probably so dull you feel the need to show him pity. That waste of space probably has no idea you're even a Wayne. I mean, not in the same way that he is but still. That boy isn’t worthy of cleaning the dirt off your shoes. 

Damian is debating on whether or not to confront you when he feels a vibration in his pocket. Slipping into the nearest alleyway, he flips open his phone to find Red Robin’s contact flashing on the screen. 

“Drake?” 

“Damian,” comes the frantic voice, “Where the hell are you? You’re on patrol with Bruce tonight! He’s going to be pissed if you don’t sh—” 

“Did you know Y/N has a job?” 

A moment of silence passes. “A job?” 

“Yes. In downtown Gotham.” 

“Downtown Gotham?” 

“Can you stop repeating everything I say like a dolt and engage in conversation like a normal human, Drake?” 

“Okay, okay! Sorry,” he admits, “I’m just a little shocked. No, I had no idea Y/N was working. And you said it’s downtown? Is she safe?” 

“Of course she’s not safe. It’s downtown Gotham, and she’s a weakling." 

“Right,” Tim acknowledges. “Well, either way,” he continues, “you need to be back at the cave as soon as possible.” 

“Tch,” Damian hisses out. 

“Don’t worry,” Tim reassures, “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” 

“Good.” 

“Everyone in Gotham falls under our protection, afterall.” And even though Damian agrees, there’s a tugging in his stomach telling him it’s more than that. 

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

When Jason receives the call, he’s actually not too far off. Pulling his bike over, he makes sure the side road is deserted before flipping up his helmet to answer. 

“TImmy,” he greets. 

“Don’t call me that, Red Hood.” Jason just rolls his eyes, wearing that antagonist grin of his. 

“Sorry, Kid.” Tim audibly sighs, not loving that nickname either but having no energy to spend his time correcting his older brother. 

“Listen, d’you know Gibson’s Diner? It’s off of 42nd street.” 

Jason takes a moment to examine his mental map of Gotham. “Yeah, that’s like a ten minute ride from here. Real cesspool.” he responds, “Why?” 

Tim releases another sigh before pausing for a moment. “Well, it’s just…Damian swears he saw Y/N working there tonight.” 

Even the ever-stoic Red Hood can’t contain his shock, “Y/N has a job?” 

“Accoriding to Damian.” 

“Why,” he scoffs, “God knows Bruce’ll just buy her whatever she wants.” 

“I don’t know, man,” Tim groans, “but I’m making it your problem. Can you make sure she gets back to the manor alright? It’s not a good area.” 

Jason, clearly annoyed, sighs. “Yeah, alright.” He ends the call, kicking up his bike and hopping back on. Then he proceeds back onto the main road, eventually pulling up to the diner Tim had mentioned. 

Sure enough, there you are. The warmth of the scene makes his teeth hurt. The diner looks toasty against the Gotham city-scape. Your hands are stacked with plates that you pass out to weary customers with grace. He swallows at the dryness mounting in his throat, grasping at straws to remember the last time you two caught up, the last time you looked at him with all that adoration that shined in your eyes when the two of you were kids. But he can’t. 

He spends another few hours alternating between sitting on his bike and patrolling the nearby area, jaw clenching tighter and tighter as evening turns comfortably into night. Why the fuck are you working so late? And here, of all places. 

When it finally hits 11:00 p.m., he watches as you remove your apron and step into the back. A few minutes later you reemerge, duffle bag on shoulder. Before exiting, you make the effort to cross the diner and bid one of your coworkers goodnight. A boy about your age. Interesting. 

While you move to the door, Jason pulls deeper into the alleyway, so that his bike is hidden from your view. He watches as you walk about a block to the nearest bus station, before jogging a bit to catch the bus pulling up. Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’. You seem to know the driver, as he observes you make brief conversation with him before heading to the back. It’s just you and two others on the bus. When the vehicle pulls off, Jason slips his helmet back on before following from a safe distance, waiting for when you disembark safely. 

The bus reaches your stop in about forty-five minutes, making it almost midnight by the time you step off. And then you begin your twenty-minute trek back up to the manor. Exhaustion weighs you down, dulls your senses, and you don’t hear the rev of a motor trailing behind you. 

Pushing open the metal gate, you enter and close it quietly. Now seeing that you’re safely home, Jason peels off with a slight hesitation—distrubed by the information that has been gathered tonight. 

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

It was not uncommon for Tim to be awake at ungodly hours of the night. He was practically a nocturnal animal. It also wasn’t uncommon for Dick to come interrupt him at these aforementioned ungodly hours either. He was a bit of an insomniac himself. 

“Watcha’ working on,” he calls out, opening the door without knocking. 

Tim doesn’t have time to close out his tabs as Dick approaches, so he just sighs and accepts his fate. “Is that…Y/N,” he asks, “AT A JOB?” 

“Yes,” Tim concedes, sighing and rubbing his eyelids as they begin to weigh heavily. “Apparently she’s been working at this shady diner. Tryna figure out for how long,” he yawns. 

Dick jerks back in surprise. “What are you talking about?” 

“You know, like a job. A service you provide in exchange for money.” 

The joke lands flat as Dick just rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I know what a job is, Tim. I just didn’t know she had one.” None of them did. 

The two slowly turn their heads back to the screen, where Tim is sifting through employment records and traffic light footage from just outside the diner. Dick’s face devolves from concern to shame for not knowing about this huge (and dangerous) part of your life. 

As for Tim…well he had yet to find a mystery that he can’t solve. And you just got a lot more interesting. 

Previous 

Next 

Masterlist 

A/N: Thank you for reading! There will (maybe) be a part three if there’s demand for it. Let me know if you want to be on the taglist. And if you’re on the taglist and want to be taken off…I’m sorry, this is your life now. 

Tag List:

@apodyopsisphllia

@freakierreader

@mimisamisasa

@sappynappysworld

@sleep-all-day-everyday

@bocchitherock208

@snakesonastarship

@cypheraas

@bellethesleepypotato

@breedumps

@peachrings64

@insomniacfigure

@kimsrie

@sarah-luz

@kmsllii

@thatbitchanna27

@wegottastayfocus

@nr1stilesstilinskiworshipper

@bemeochii

@lettucel0ver

@idontgiveacrap

@heartzlair

@vanillaswirlys

@tr8t0r

@bldymrder

@leilakeila

@gian-jaeger 

@smutnofluff3005

@j-kianab

@cens0r3d

@lettucel0ver

@realhumanoidforsure

@themimegirl2000

@leilakeila

@cens0r3d

@yestrday

@luminece

@simpforstraightmen

@wittlewowa

@l3m0n-adee

@nxdxsworld

@scarymygodurdivine

@the-mespidah

@nora-ra

@the-earth-wonders

@venomsvl

@rontoto-l0v3r

[chubbybuunyy]

could we possibly have more Bruce x Pregnant Reader please? the domestic fluff of this trope tickles me in a way i yearn for. (ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ)

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ──── relief .ᐟ

in which bruce provides just the right amount of relief!

( bruce wayne x pregnant!reader | fluff )

chubby speaks! : lmao someone in my inbox mentioned that i forgot to warn y'all that the reader was pregnant in my last bruce fic and it made me giggle mb!!

bruce was overprotective, you knew that from the moment you got involved with him—it all made sense when you learned of his story and especially when you learned that your some what normal boyfriend was actually the caped crusader that roamed the dangerous streets of gotham.

but when you became pregnant? oh it was a whole different ball game. if bruce had it his way you would never leave the bed until the day of the birth. yet you were restless, you needed to be active however you were nearing the end of your pregnancy and you desperately wanted to stay in bed.

but you were also petty and you didn’t want to prove him right.

so here you were, in the batcave, helping with files as your worrywart husband loomed over your shoulder. it didn’t matter where in the cave he was at—his eyes remanded on you. he cringed when you stood, winced when you hissed out in pain and he most definitely walked closely behind whenever you walked anywhere.

“almost done here mama?” he asked as he walked over to where you stood, waiting for some papers to finish printing. you just hummed, leaning your back against his chest—head resting on his shoulder.

“should be a couple more minutes” you yawned out. bruce watched as you shifted your weight from foot to foot as you tried to get comfortable with standing yet no relief ever came. so without much thought bruce wrapped his arms underneath your swollen belly and lifted your stomach.

you gasped in surprise, hands quickly shooting towards his wrist but instead of questioning what he was doing your body let out a shaky yet satisfied moan as the weight of your child had seemingly been passed on to bruce’s arms.

“holy” you breathed out “that feels amazing” he smiled, swaying the both of you from side to side as he held the weight of his world in his hands.

bruce would never admit that he learned of this technique due to a tik tok video dick had sent him the moment he had learned of your pregnancy but he was thankful nonetheless. especially since you seemed so relieved—he just wished he had done this way sooner.

“can we have brownies?” he laughed, a genuine laugh that came from the pit of his stomach “lets get you into bed and ill see what alfred could muster up”

[chubbybuunyy]

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ──── shower time .ᐟ

in which dick hates being left out of shower time!

( dick grayson x fem!reader | fluff | can be tied with this! )

richard grayson was a clinger, you already knew that, you loved that, but sometimes you just needed a moment to yourself and the shower should be that moment—except it never was. he’ll pout when you announce that you’ll be in the shower, alone, he’ll complain that you’ll take forever and leave him bored or he’ll go on a rant about how it saved water if the both of you shower together but you paid him no mind. instead you grabbed your stuff and left.

surprisingly he was good for the first ten minutes but quickly afterwards he found any and every excuse to weasel his way into the bathroom.

“sorry babe, gotta pee”

“sorry sorry i forgot my phone!”

“hey what do you want for dinner? ill order it!”

“did i leave my phone in here again?”

you wanted to be annoyed, you wanted to lock the door after the second time he barged inside with some insane excuse but ultimately you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

he rushed in again, cheesy smile on his face as he stood there for a moment, watching as you washed your hair, admiring how the bubbles covered parts of your body.

“what is it now?” you sighed out, eyes closed tightly to avoid the shampoo from entering.

“just wanted to say that i love you and you’ve been in here for like an hour and im bored and i miss you and—”

“just get in the shower already” you said, a small smile creeping up on your face as you heard the door slam shut and his pants unzip.

“don’t gotta tell me twice” he muttered as he fought to rush out of the clothes that got in the way of you, him and a warm shower.

[chubbybuunyy]

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ──── three’s a crowd .ᐟ

in which an intruder interrupts your morning with dickie.

( dick grayson x fem!reader x platonic!damian | fluff )

the morning sunlight filled your room with a beautiful warm glow—casting the right amount of light to give you a picture perfect view of your boyfriend sleeping right next to you. he looked so calm, so at peace, so comfortable, he was beautiful and you loved to remind him of that fact everyday.

“you’re staring” he muttered, his eyes still closed but his hand now rubbed up and down your waist while the other tangled itself within your hair.

“im not staring, i’m admiring” you corrected. he hummed, finally opening his eyes to see you already looking up at him with that smile on your face.

“good morning pretty” no matter how many times he’s called you that it never failed to make your face burn causing you to look away all shy and flustered. “give me a kiss” he chuckled, the hand that was tangled in your hair tugging softly to force your head up towards him.

“nuh uh, morning breath”

“pfft, that never stopped me, i’ve kissed your other lips after training” he said with a smug smile on his face. your eyes widen and your mouth opened to reprimand his sleazy comment yet your voice wouldn’t be the one to speak first.

“thats absolutely disgusting grayson” the both of you sat up rather quickly, both ready to defend the other from the unexpected intruder but there wasn’t no immediate threat, just damian wayne standing at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“what are you doing here?!” dick shouted.

“she promised to chaperone my trip today” you gasped, rushing out of the bed and into the connecting bathroom, grabbing random pieces of clothing on the way there.

“give me five minutes!” you shouted at the boy, slightly grateful for his interruption or else you would have completely forgotten.

“after training? seriously?” damian teased, a tiny smirk on his face.

“how did you even get in?”

“i’m batman’s son, duh”

[pluvial-lake]

➤ OH, TO BE BETWEEN YOUR TITS .ᐟ

synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ when you hug their face in your boobs.

including ⠀! ⠀ dick grayson. jason todd. tim drake. damian wayne. ✶

contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. nsfw. obsessive characters. the boys being phatethic and in love. masterlist. english is not my first language. ✶

DICK GRAYSON

he's so fucking touch starved it's not even funny. like yeah he's dick grayson, everybody loves him, he's got that charming smile, but when's the last time someone just held him? really held him? not because he was bleeding out or because the world was ending but just because he needed it.

so when you're sitting on the couch and he comes home from patrol, still wired, jaw tight, that little crease between his eyebrows that he gets when he's been thinking too hard—

you don't say anything. you just reach up, grab the back of his neck, and pull his face right into your chest.

he makes this sound. this broken little exhale. like all the air just left his body at once.

his hands come up immediately, gripping your waist, and he just melts. face pressed into the soft swell of your cleavage, nose buried in your sternum, and you feel his whole body go slack against you. his shoulders drop. his breathing slows. his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt.

"fuck," he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. "needed this."

you're wearing one of those low cut tops and he's not even being sexual about it at first. he's just breathing you in. his lips are parted against the curve of your breast, warm breath fanning over your skin, and his eyes are closed.

you run your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp the way he likes, and he groans. deep and rumbling, vibrating right through your skin.

"hard day?" you ask.

he doesn't answer. just nuzzles closer, turns his head, and presses his mouth right over your nipple through the thin fabric.

oh...

his tongue flicks out, wetting the material, and you feel his hips twitch against your thigh. he's getting hard. just from this. just from being close to you like this.

so cute.

"let me," he whispers, already pulling your top down, and then his mouth is on bare skin and he's gone.

he doesn't rush. he's so earnest about it. worshipping your tits is a privilege he's been granted. he licks and sucks and moans against your skin, leaving wet patches everywhere, pulling your nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it until it's hard and aching.

"pretty," he breathes against you. "so fuckin' pretty. taste so good."

he switches to the other breast, gives it the same attention, and his hips are rolling against your thigh now, grinding slow and desperate. he's not even trying to get off. he's just feeling the moment.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his hair's a mess, and there's drool on his chin.

"better?" you ask, smiling.

he laughs, a little breathless. "yeah. sorry. got carried away."

you pull him back in.

he doesn't complain.

JASON TODD

it's his favorite thing.

not that he'd ever say that out loud.

but you know. you know because when he comes home with blood on his knuckles and red in his eyes, he walks straight to you, drops to his knees, and presses his face into your stomach. wraps his arms around your waist and just breathes.

you're standing in the kitchen, making tea, and he's there with his face buried in your shirt.

"jason," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair.

he growls like a dog.

yeah. he don't want you to say anything romantic rn.

but then you sit down, pull him up, and pull his head to your chest. and he fall into you, all the fight just drained out of him. his whole weight pressing you into the couch cushions, his face smushed between your tits, his arms locked around your ribcage like he's afraid you'll disappear.

"you're okay," you murmur. "you're home."

he doesn't say anything. just turns his head and bites down on the soft flesh of your breast through your shirt. not hard enough to hurt. just enough to feel. to remind himself you're real.

"jason."

"shut up." his voice is rough. "let me have this."

so you do. you let him mouth at your tits through the fabric until your shirt is soaked and clinging to your skin. you let him pull it down and latch onto your nipple like a starving man. you let him suck hard enough to make you gasp, his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, his big hands squeezing and kneading your breasts.

"so fuckin' soft," he groans against you. "could live here."

his tongue is hot and rough, and he's not gentle about it. no he's desperate. sucking and licking and biting, marking you up, leaving bruises on your chest that'll bloom purple by morning.

he's hard. you can feel him pressing against your thigh, thick and throbbing, and he grinds against you.

"jason," you breathe. "let me take care of you."

he pulls back just enough to look at you. pupils wide, lips wet, jaw tight.

"you already are," he says.

then he buries his face back in your chest and doesn't come up for air for a long, long time.

TIM DRAKE

tim hasn't slept in three days. he's staring at his laptop, eyes bloodshot, coffee cup empty for the fourth time, fingers still moving but getting slower.

so you do the only thing that works.

you walk up behind him, slide your arms around his shoulders, and pull his head back against your chest.

he makes a confused little sound.

"what're you—"

"shh."

he resists for maybe half a second. then his eyes flutter closed and he lean against you. his whole body goes limp, head resting heavy between your breasts, and you feel the exhaustion just hit him.

"you're so warm," he mumbles, voice already slurring.

"you need sleep."

"can't. case."

"tim."

"five more minutes."

you roll your eyes and shift so his face is pressed more into the softest part of your chest. his lips parted against the bare skin where your shirt dips low, and his breath is hot and slow.

he's not doing anything but enjoying the moment. but his body is responding anyway. you feel his shoulders tense, then relax. his hands come up and rest on your arms, holding you closer.

"y'know," he says, voice relaxed, "this is really nice."

"yeah?"

"yea..."

he turns his head, presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. then another. then his tongue darts out, just a little, tasting the salt on your skin.

"tim."

"mm?"

"thought you were working."

he pull his head away, looks up at you with his exhausted blue eyes, and there's something soft and a little drunk in his expression.

"changed my mind."

he pulls you around the chair and into his lap, and then his face is buried in your tits and he's groaning like he just found water in a desert. his mouth is everywhere. licking, sucking, kissing, biting. he's so sloppy. he's so cute.

"fuck," he whimpers against your nipple. "fuck, you're so hot."

he's not usually vocal. but he's so sleep deprived and overstimulated that his filter is gone. every thought just falls out of his mouth.

"could do this forever," he mumbles, switching to your other breast. "never leave. stay right here."

he's grinding up into the heat of your core without even realizing he's doing it. his hips move in slow weak circles.

"tim, baby, let me ride you," you whisper.

he shakes his head. "no. not yet. just—let me—"

he buries his face deeper, tongue flattening over your nipple, and groans like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"just let me be."

you let him.

DAMIAN WAYNE

damian hates vulnerability.

he is arrogance and precision and makes cutting remarks. he says "i don't need anyone" and "sentiment is weakness" and "tt" when he doesn't have a comeback.

but here's the thing, he's still learning what it means to want something soft.

and you're the softest thing he's ever touched.

the first time you pulled him into your chest, he froze. didn't know what to do with his hands, his face, his body. just stood there stiff as a board while you held him.

now he doesn't ask. but he... there...

you're reading on the couch and he sits down next to you. close. closer than necessary. his thigh presses against yours and he picks at the hem of his sleeve.

he's annoyed about something.

"damian."

"tt."

he won't even look at you.

"come here."

he moves fast. too fast.

so he was waiting for you to say it. alright.

and then he's pressed against you, face shoved into your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, and he's shaking. just a little.

"i had a difficult patrol," he mutters into your skin. like that explains everything.

but that's the closest he can get to saying i need you.

you wrap your arms around him and hold him tighter. his face is pressed right between your breasts, nose against your skin, and you feel his breathing even out. his hands curl into your shirt.

"you don't have to talk about it," you say softly.

"good." he pauses. "i don't want to."

and he doesn't pull away. if anything, he presses closer. and then his lips are moving against the swell of your breast. soft at first. like he's not sure he's allowed.

"damian."

"i'm not—" he cuts himself off, frustrated. "you smell good."

you bite back a smile. "so i've been told."

he huffs. but then his mouth is back on you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses across your chest. he's not that practiced but he's eager. a little clumsy. he pulls your shirt down and stares at your bare breasts like he's never seen them before, even though he has. even though he's memorized every inch of you.

"you're beautiful," he says, so quiet you almost miss it.

then he latches onto your nipple and sucks, and it's like a dam breaks. his hands are everywhere. squeezing your other breast, gripping your hip, tugging at your clothes. he's making these sounds—soft, surprised little moans.

he's hard. pressing against you, twitching every time you gasp. but he doesn't move. doesn't ask for anything. just keeps his mouth on you. this is the only thing he wants in the world at the moment.

"dami fuck," you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair. "you're so good at this."

he makes a choked sound against your skin. his hips jerk. and when he pulls back, his face is red and his lips are wet and his eyes are wild.

"i am?" he asks, and there it is. the vulnerability. the need for approval he'd never admit to.

"yeah," you whisper. "you are."

he buries his face back in your chest. he doesn't want you to see the smile or the redness on his face.

If you want to be in my dc taglist let me know :)

© pluvial-lake 2026 : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[pluvial-lake]

➤ OH, TO BE BETWEEN YOUR TITS .ᐟ

synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ when you hug their face in your boobs.

including ⠀! ⠀ dick grayson. jason todd. tim drake. damian wayne. ✶

contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. nsfw. obsessive characters. the boys being phatethic and in love. masterlist. english is not my first language. ✶

DICK GRAYSON

he's so fucking touch starved it's not even funny. like yeah he's dick grayson, everybody loves him, he's got that charming smile, but when's the last time someone just held him? really held him? not because he was bleeding out or because the world was ending but just because he needed it.

so when you're sitting on the couch and he comes home from patrol, still wired, jaw tight, that little crease between his eyebrows that he gets when he's been thinking too hard—

you don't say anything. you just reach up, grab the back of his neck, and pull his face right into your chest.

he makes this sound. this broken little exhale. like all the air just left his body at once.

his hands come up immediately, gripping your waist, and he just melts. face pressed into the soft swell of your cleavage, nose buried in your sternum, and you feel his whole body go slack against you. his shoulders drop. his breathing slows. his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt.

"fuck," he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. "needed this."

you're wearing one of those low cut tops and he's not even being sexual about it at first. he's just breathing you in. his lips are parted against the curve of your breast, warm breath fanning over your skin, and his eyes are closed.

you run your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp the way he likes, and he groans. deep and rumbling, vibrating right through your skin.

"hard day?" you ask.

he doesn't answer. just nuzzles closer, turns his head, and presses his mouth right over your nipple through the thin fabric.

oh...

his tongue flicks out, wetting the material, and you feel his hips twitch against your thigh. he's getting hard. just from this. just from being close to you like this.

so cute.

"let me," he whispers, already pulling your top down, and then his mouth is on bare skin and he's gone.

he doesn't rush. he's so earnest about it. worshipping your tits is a privilege he's been granted. he licks and sucks and moans against your skin, leaving wet patches everywhere, pulling your nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it until it's hard and aching.

"pretty," he breathes against you. "so fuckin' pretty. taste so good."

he switches to the other breast, gives it the same attention, and his hips are rolling against your thigh now, grinding slow and desperate. he's not even trying to get off. he's just feeling the moment.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his hair's a mess, and there's drool on his chin.

"better?" you ask, smiling.

he laughs, a little breathless. "yeah. sorry. got carried away."

you pull him back in.

he doesn't complain.

JASON TODD

it's his favorite thing.

not that he'd ever say that out loud.

but you know. you know because when he comes home with blood on his knuckles and red in his eyes, he walks straight to you, drops to his knees, and presses his face into your stomach. wraps his arms around your waist and just breathes.

you're standing in the kitchen, making tea, and he's there with his face buried in your shirt.

"jason," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair.

he growls like a dog.

yeah. he don't want you to say anything romantic rn.

but then you sit down, pull him up, and pull his head to your chest. and he fall into you, all the fight just drained out of him. his whole weight pressing you into the couch cushions, his face smushed between your tits, his arms locked around your ribcage like he's afraid you'll disappear.

"you're okay," you murmur. "you're home."

he doesn't say anything. just turns his head and bites down on the soft flesh of your breast through your shirt. not hard enough to hurt. just enough to feel. to remind himself you're real.

"jason."

"shut up." his voice is rough. "let me have this."

so you do. you let him mouth at your tits through the fabric until your shirt is soaked and clinging to your skin. you let him pull it down and latch onto your nipple like a starving man. you let him suck hard enough to make you gasp, his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, his big hands squeezing and kneading your breasts.

"so fuckin' soft," he groans against you. "could live here."

his tongue is hot and rough, and he's not gentle about it. no he's desperate. sucking and licking and biting, marking you up, leaving bruises on your chest that'll bloom purple by morning.

he's hard. you can feel him pressing against your thigh, thick and throbbing, and he grinds against you.

"jason," you breathe. "let me take care of you."

he pulls back just enough to look at you. pupils wide, lips wet, jaw tight.

"you already are," he says.

then he buries his face back in your chest and doesn't come up for air for a long, long time.

TIM DRAKE

tim hasn't slept in three days. he's staring at his laptop, eyes bloodshot, coffee cup empty for the fourth time, fingers still moving but getting slower.

so you do the only thing that works.

you walk up behind him, slide your arms around his shoulders, and pull his head back against your chest.

he makes a confused little sound.

"what're you—"

"shh."

he resists for maybe half a second. then his eyes flutter closed and he lean against you. his whole body goes limp, head resting heavy between your breasts, and you feel the exhaustion just hit him.

"you're so warm," he mumbles, voice already slurring.

"you need sleep."

"can't. case."

"tim."

"five more minutes."

you roll your eyes and shift so his face is pressed more into the softest part of your chest. his lips parted against the bare skin where your shirt dips low, and his breath is hot and slow.

he's not doing anything but enjoying the moment. but his body is responding anyway. you feel his shoulders tense, then relax. his hands come up and rest on your arms, holding you closer.

"y'know," he says, voice relaxed, "this is really nice."

"yeah?"

"yea..."

he turns his head, presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. then another. then his tongue darts out, just a little, tasting the salt on your skin.

"tim."

"mm?"

"thought you were working."

he pull his head away, looks up at you with his exhausted blue eyes, and there's something soft and a little drunk in his expression.

"changed my mind."

he pulls you around the chair and into his lap, and then his face is buried in your tits and he's groaning like he just found water in a desert. his mouth is everywhere. licking, sucking, kissing, biting. he's so sloppy. he's so cute.

"fuck," he whimpers against your nipple. "fuck, you're so hot."

he's not usually vocal. but he's so sleep deprived and overstimulated that his filter is gone. every thought just falls out of his mouth.

"could do this forever," he mumbles, switching to your other breast. "never leave. stay right here."

he's grinding up into the heat of your core without even realizing he's doing it. his hips move in slow weak circles.

"tim, baby, let me ride you," you whisper.

he shakes his head. "no. not yet. just—let me—"

he buries his face deeper, tongue flattening over your nipple, and groans like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"just let me be."

you let him.

DAMIAN WAYNE

damian hates vulnerability.

he is arrogance and precision and makes cutting remarks. he says "i don't need anyone" and "sentiment is weakness" and "tt" when he doesn't have a comeback.

but here's the thing, he's still learning what it means to want something soft.

and you're the softest thing he's ever touched.

the first time you pulled him into your chest, he froze. didn't know what to do with his hands, his face, his body. just stood there stiff as a board while you held him.

now he doesn't ask. but he... there...

you're reading on the couch and he sits down next to you. close. closer than necessary. his thigh presses against yours and he picks at the hem of his sleeve.

he's annoyed about something.

"damian."

"tt."

he won't even look at you.

"come here."

he moves fast. too fast.

so he was waiting for you to say it. alright.

and then he's pressed against you, face shoved into your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, and he's shaking. just a little.

"i had a difficult patrol," he mutters into your skin. like that explains everything.

but that's the closest he can get to saying i need you.

you wrap your arms around him and hold him tighter. his face is pressed right between your breasts, nose against your skin, and you feel his breathing even out. his hands curl into your shirt.

"you don't have to talk about it," you say softly.

"good." he pauses. "i don't want to."

and he doesn't pull away. if anything, he presses closer. and then his lips are moving against the swell of your breast. soft at first. like he's not sure he's allowed.

"damian."

"i'm not—" he cuts himself off, frustrated. "you smell good."

you bite back a smile. "so i've been told."

he huffs. but then his mouth is back on you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses across your chest. he's not that practiced but he's eager. a little clumsy. he pulls your shirt down and stares at your bare breasts like he's never seen them before, even though he has. even though he's memorized every inch of you.

"you're beautiful," he says, so quiet you almost miss it.

then he latches onto your nipple and sucks, and it's like a dam breaks. his hands are everywhere. squeezing your other breast, gripping your hip, tugging at your clothes. he's making these sounds—soft, surprised little moans.

he's hard. pressing against you, twitching every time you gasp. but he doesn't move. doesn't ask for anything. just keeps his mouth on you. this is the only thing he wants in the world at the moment.

"dami fuck," you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair. "you're so good at this."

he makes a choked sound against your skin. his hips jerk. and when he pulls back, his face is red and his lips are wet and his eyes are wild.

"i am?" he asks, and there it is. the vulnerability. the need for approval he'd never admit to.

"yeah," you whisper. "you are."

he buries his face back in your chest. he doesn't want you to see the smile or the redness on his face.

If you want to be in my dc taglist let me know :)

© pluvial-lake 2026 : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[jellyfishsthings]

could I ask for a completely civilian reader x Jason T who gets injured trying to protect Jason?

Thank you!!!

Stupid Brave

navigation , dc navigation

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Here is what you know about Jason Todd.

You know he's Red Hood. You know what that means in terms of the specific arithmetic of his life — the danger, the enemies, the nights he comes home wrong and won't say how. You know the safe house has four locks, and you know why. You know the particular sound he makes when something hurts that he's not going to mention, and you know the difference between the nightmares and the regular not-sleeping, and you know that he takes his coffee black except when he's had a very bad week, and then it's two sugars, and he won't acknowledge the two sugars.

You know him.

What you don't know — what you have no framework for, no training for, no version of yourself that has ever needed to know — is what to do when you're in the wrong place, and someone points a gun at the back of his head.

It turns out your body knows before you do.

It's not supposed to be a thing.

That's what makes it — that's the part that Jason will turn over later, in the specific way he processes failures, looking for every point where it went wrong. It's not supposed to be a thing. You're picking him up. That's it. He'd texted — can you come get me, 4th and Morrison, don't ask — which is a Jason text, which you've received variations of before, which means something went sideways with transport and he needs a quiet exit, and your car is the quiet exit.

You'd parked on Morrison.

You'd waited.

He'd come out of the alley in the civilian clothes he keeps for exactly this purpose — the ones that make him look like a large man who has been somewhere, which is true, rather than Red Hood, which is what he's been — and you'd seen him and gotten out of the car because it was a nice night and you'd been sitting for twenty minutes and your legs wanted the air.

That's the variable.

You getting out of the car is the variable.

Because if you'd stayed in the car you'd have seen it but not been close enough, and the man who comes out of the shadows behind Jason with the gun already raised would have had his moment and then Jason's training would have kicked in and Jason would have handled it, probably, would have turned at the last second or dropped or done something that you don't have the vocabulary for but that he does.

But you're out of the car.

And you're closer than the car.

And Jason is looking at you and not behind him.

And your body moves.

Later, you won't be able to reconstruct the decision.

Because it isn't one. A decision implies a moment of choosing, a pros and cons, a moment where you weigh the variables and select an outcome. What happens is not that.

What happens is: you see it, and then you're moving, and then you're between Jason and the gun, and then there's a sound, and then there's a pain in your side that is so immediate and total that it whites out everything else for a second.

Then the ground.

Then Jason's voice, which is a sound you've never heard from him before, which is outside the entire vocabulary of Jason Todd sounds you've catalogued over the time you've known him.

Then his hands.

He catches you before the ground does, which is something which he will be grateful for later, but cannot access right now because right now he is — he is not okay, Jason Todd is not okay, the armor is off,  the mask is off, and there's blood on his hand,s and it's yours.

The man with the gun is not a concern anymore.

He'd been a concern for approximately four seconds after the shot, and then he was not, because Jason had dealt with him with the focused efficiency of someone who has a much more immediate priority and needs this particular variable removed.

He's on the ground with you now.

His hands on your side, the wound, applying pressure with the practiced certainty of someone who has done field medicine in worse conditions and is currently finding that knowing what to do and being able to do it clearly are two different things when it's you.

"Hey," he says. His voice is doing something he can't control. "Hey, look at me."

You look at him.

Your face is doing the thing faces do when the body is processing something large — very present and very far away simultaneously.

"Hi," you say.

"Don't hi me," he says, which doesn't make sense, which is what comes out. "I need you to stay with me. Can you do that?"

"I'm here," you say. "I'm —" you make a sound that you're trying to make smaller than it is. "That really hurts."

"I know. I know it does." His hands are steady. His hands are always steady. "I've got you. I've got pressure on it. You're going to be okay."

"Is the guy — "

"Don't worry about the guy."

"Jason — "

"He's handled. Don't worry about the guy." He looks at your face, doing the assessment, the field assessment, cataloguing everything he can see. "I'm going to call — I need to call this in. I'm going to keep pressure, okay? I need you to hold this." He takes your hand and puts it over his. "Press. Like this. Don't let up."

You press.

He makes the call one-handed, fast, the terse, efficient language of someone reporting a situation, coordinates, injury type, and then he hangs up, and his other hand comes back to yours, and he's looking at you with an expression you haven't seen on him.

Not one you have a name for.

"Four minutes," he says. "They're four minutes out."

"Okay," you say.

"Talk to me," he says.

"About what?"

"Anything. Talk to me about anything."

You look at him.

His jaw is doing the thing. The thing where he's holding something back through sheer structural force of will, where the thing that wants to come out is too large and too immediate, and he's keeping it contained because right now, contained is what's needed.

"You didn't hear him," you say.

"No," Jason says. "I didn't."

"He was behind you."

"I know."

"I saw him and I just — I didn't think, I just — "

"I know," Jason says, and his voice cracks slightly on it, just at the edge, just enough. "I know you did. We're going to — we can talk about that later. Right now, I need you to keep talking."

"My car's in a tow zone probably," you say.

Something happens on his face. Not quite a laugh. The shape of one, without any of the air in it. “Yeah, it probably is.”

"You're going to have to deal with that."

"I'll deal with it."

"The fine's going to be — "

"I'll deal with it," he says again, firmer, the firmness of someone who needs you to understand that every single thing that is not you right now is completely irrelevant. "I'll deal with everything. Just keep talking."

"Okay," you say.

You keep talking.

You tell him about your day, which is a strange thing to tell someone while you're bleeding on the street, but he asked for anything, and your day is what you have. The meeting that went long. The lunch that was good. The drive over, the radio station you'd had on, the song that had been playing when he texted.

He listens to all of it.

His hands don't move.

Four minutes is four minutes, and then there are people and noise and Jason's hands are replaced by other hands, and someone is talking to you, and Jason is still there, right there, not moving, and the last thing you see before they load you is his face —

Still doing the thing you don't have a name for.

Still doing it.

The hospital is the hospital.

Jason knows hospitals. He has a complicated relationship with hospitals that involves a significant amount of personal history and a general preference for avoiding them, but he knows how they work, and right now, how they work is: he sits in a chair, and he waits.

Roy arrives twenty minutes in.

He sits in the chair next to Jason without asking if Jason wants company, which is the correct call, and he looks at Jason's hands, which still have blood on them, and he doesn't say anything about that either.

"She moved," Jason says.

"I know," Roy says.

"She's a civilian. She has no training. She doesn't — she's never — " He stops. "She just moved. Like it was obvious. Like there was no other option."

"She could have — if it had been six inches to the left, she could have — " Jason stops again. His hands are on his knees, and they're not steady now, not anymore. The field is over, and the steadiness has gone with it. "She could have died."

"She didn't," Roy says.

"This time."

"This time is the one that happened." Roy looks at him steadily. "She's in there, and she's going to be okay, and that's what's true right now."

"She did it for me," Jason says, and the words are bare, just the bones of them. "She threw herself in front of — for me. She got shot for me."

Roy doesn't say anything.

"I don't — " Jason looks at his hands. "I've had people get hurt because of me. Because of what I am, because of proximity, because I exist, and existing makes the people near me targets. I know that. I've always known that." He exhales. "This is different. She chose it. She saw it, and she chose."

"Yeah," Roy says. "She did."

"That's — " He can't finish it.

Roy puts a hand on his shoulder.

They sit.

She's out of surgery in two hours.

The doctor says through and through, clean exit, no organ involvement, she's going to be sore for a while, but she's going to be fine, and Jason stands there receiving this information and nods and says thank you in a voice that is mostly functional.

Then he sits back down.

Roy brings him coffee from the machine down the hall. It's bad coffee. Jason drinks it.

'You can go see her,' Roy says, eventually.

"In a minute."

"Jay — "

"In a minute," he says again.

He needs the minute because he knows what's going to happen when he walks into that room — he knows his own face, knows what it's going to do when he sees her, and he needs a minute to find the version of himself that can walk in there and be present rather than the version that's been sitting in this chair for two hours with blood on his hands.

He takes the minute.

Then he goes.

You're awake.

That's the first thing. You're awake, and you turn your head when he comes through the door, and your face does — your face does the thing, the specific thing, the one that's just for him, and something in Jason's chest that has been locked for two hours releases without permission.

He comes and sits in the chair by the bed.

He looks at you.

You look at him.

"Hi," you say, for the second time tonight, and this time he doesn't tell you not to hi him, he just exhales.

"Hi," he says.

"I'm okay," you say.

"I know. They told me."

"You look terrible," you say.

"You're the one who got shot."

"And you look worse than me," you say, which isn't true and is also exactly true, and something in his jaw does the thing.

"You scared me," he says.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't — " he stops. "Don't apologize. I'm not — " He looks at your hands, folded on the blanket, and he reaches over and puts his over them. "You shouldn't have done that."

"He was going to shoot you," you say.

"I know."

"In the back of the head, Jason. He had it — "

"I know," he says, quieter. "I know what he had. I know what would have happened. I know." His hand tightens over yours. "And I know why you did it. I'm just — I need a minute to be terrified before I can get to grateful."

"Okay," you say.

"You're a civilian," he says. "You have no — you didn't — there was no reason that should have been your instinct — "

"You're the person I love," you say, simply. "That was my reason."

Jason looks at you.

The thing on his face — the one you didn't have a name for on the street — is still there, and you can see it clearly now, in the hospital light, without the field and the blood and the four minutes.

It's something that looks like grief and looks like gratitude and looks like a man who has been certain for a long time that he is someone things happen to and not someone things are chosen for, looking at evidence to the contrary and not knowing what to do with it.

"That can't be enough of a reason," he says.

"It was," you say.

"You could have — "

"I know what I could have. I know the math, Jason, I'm not — I knew what I was doing." You look at him steadily. "I'd do it again."

"Don't," he says. "Don't say that."

"It's true."

"I know it's true. That's why I'm asking you not to say it." His hand over yours, both of his now, the way he holds things he's afraid of losing. "I need you to not be — I need you to be alive. That's the only thing I need. Whatever I am, whatever this costs, the one non-negotiable is you being alive."

"Okay," you say.

"Okay," he repeats, like he's checking that the word means what he needs it to mean.

"But Jason," you say.

"Yeah."

"Same goes," you say. "You being alive. That's the thing. That's why I moved." You hold his gaze. "So we're even on the non-negotiable."

He looks at you for a long time.

"We're not even," he says. "You got shot."

"Minor," you say.

"Through and through is not — "

"The doctor said clean exit. That's basically a graze."

"It is categorically not a graze — "

"Jason."

"What?"

"Come here," you say.

He looks at the chair. At the bed. At you, shifting slightly to make room, which makes you wince, which makes him immediately say don't move, stop moving, and stand up.

"Carefully," you say.

"I'm not — "

"Carefully," you say again, and he carefully sits on the edge of the bed and carefully doesn't jostle you, and you put your head against his shoulder, and he puts his arm around you with the specific gentleness of someone handling something precious.

"You scared me," he says again, into your hair.

"I know," you say. "I'm sorry about that part."

"Just that part?"

"Just that part," you confirm.

He exhales.

You sit in the hospital room, and he holds you carefully, and somewhere down the hall, Roy is being told he can't have more than one person in the room and is arguing about this with the specific Roy Harper energy that means he's going to win eventually.

"The car's in a tow zone," you say, after a while.

"I know."

"You said you'd deal with it."

"I'll deal with it tomorrow."

"The fine is going to be — "

“I'll deal with it,” he says, for the third time, which this time means something slightly different, which is: I will deal with every fine, and every logistics problem, and everything that is not you being okay, because you being okay is the only variable that matters, and everything else is administrative.

You understand this.

You lean a little more into his shoulder.

He holds on.

He doesn't leave the hospital.

Roy brings him food at some point, bad vending machine food, which Jason eats without comment. A nurse tells him visiting hours are technically over, and he looks at her with a look, and she decides the policy has some flexibility.

You sleep.

He watches you sleep the way he watches things that matter to him — precisely, completely, as if he looks away, something might change.

You don't.

You're there when you wake up, and he's still in the chair, and the sun is coming through the hospital blinds, and his hands are on his knees, and he's watching you with that expression.

"You stayed," you say.

"Obviously," he says.

"You should have slept — "

"I'm fine."

"Jason — "

"I'm fine," he says, and it's the rare version, the one that's actually true. "I'm fine. You're here. I'm fine."

You look at him.

He looks at you.

"Okay," you say.

"Okay," he says.

Outside, Gotham is doing what Gotham does.

In here, you're here, and he's here, and the thing that almost happened didn't happen, and that's the whole of it, that's the entire thing.

Jason Todd is not someone things are chosen for.

Except that you chose.

He's going to have to find somewhere to put that.

It's going to take a while.

That's okay.

He's got time.

You both do.

[strawberryscribblesandwrites]

Eyes eyes eyes

Your not so subtly giving them bedroom eyes. (Jason todd, bruce wayne, dick grayson,tim drake) (extra roy harper, john constantine)

[kooriandr]

𑣲 ragelovebaiting wally west

wally stared at you as you laid on his bed with your eyes closed and a slight frown, hearing your small pants and getting hit with the warm puffs of breath you let out against his shoulder as you still tried to recover your breath, and he smiled to himself. it was one of his favourite sights and just one of his favourite moments, in a way the evidence of the manifestation of his love for you. he reached out and placed one hand on your waist to tug you closer to him, so that you’d rest against his chest. “baby?”

“hm?” 

“i love you.” he kept his gaze locked on you, watching as you made yourself comfortable on top of him.

you smiled softly at his words, finally looking up to meet his gaze, your cheek pressed to his collarbone. “yeah?”

“mhm.” his smile mirrored your own.

“you do?”

“yeah, i do.”

“you love me?”

“of course i do, sweetheart.”

“you do what?”

he narrowed his eyes at you, knowing what you were doing, but he humoured you anyway. “i love you, baby.”

your smile widened at his quick response, a light blush colouring your cheeks despite your teasing. “that’s nice.”

wally’s brows furrowed as he saw you nuzzling your face back into his chest, but he still planted a peck to the crown of your head the moment it was in front of him. you could picture his pout even facing away from him. “do you?”

“do i what?” you did your best effort not to laugh in his face. he rolled his eyes.

“do you love me?”

you looked up again. “do you?” 

wally grumbled, wanting to kiss that playful smile off your face. “yeah, i do, baby.”

“you do what?” 

“i love you.” he practically whined, in his pouty face.

“cool.”

you tried looking back down but he was quick to grab your face in his hand to force it back up, pressing his forehead to yours, and this once you just couldn’t hold your giggles at his frown. his lips unconsciously quirked up too at your reaction, despite his annoyance, but he tried his best to suppress the smile. “do you love me?”

you hummed at the question, pretending to think about the answer, with his face still pressed to yours. “what do you think?”

“oh, i have no idea. i’m clueless. would you mind enlightening me?” 

you were struggling to hold in more giggles, he obviously knew the answer already, you reminded him daily, which is what made his insistence so cute.

“i think you should know by now.”

“do you love me?” he pressed. 

“well, now i don’t know.” 

wally’s face dropped. you weren’t sure if that was even funnier or just scary. “don’t even joke like that.”

you once again broke in laughter, endeared by your whiny excuse of a boyfriend, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as you pressed a loud kiss to his face, but he was still complaining.

“do you love me?” he tried again in an exaggeratedly whiny tone, his voice muffled by the deep pout on his lips.

“do you?” 

“of course i do, babe! more than anything!”

“what more than anything?”

wally grumbled, but still played along, convinced that you’d finally give in if he did. “i love you more than anything.” he muttered, not so enthusiastic anymore.

“i love you more, baby.” you spoke between giggles.

wally raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk showing up on his face. “oh, you don’t wanna start that now.”

“yeah, i don’t, actually.” 

“well, that’s too bad because i definitely love you more.” his arms tightened around your waist and he started peppering kisses all over your face.

“shut up!” you laughed despite yourself. “i don’t love you anymore!”

𝜗ৎ if ur one of the at least 600 people who saw this while it had no title Just pretend u didn’t..

[whimsy-nightwing]

i love this sm😇 ragelovebaiting wally west <3

[llovelygood]

Bruce Wayne loves to call you his wife.

“My wife”. His wife. You. His.

Those two words just taste too sweet in his mouth and roll perfectly on his tongue. 

He uses that term on those cozy mornings, when his body still aches, the sunlight is barely welcomed into the room, and your naked bodies are touching. The word “wife” comes out of his mouth like a sigh, like a secret poorly kept, right above your lips. Because it is not a secret that Bruce is devoted to you entirely; everyone knows, but there are people who simply choose to ignore it.

That’s Bruce’s favorite moment to call you his—whenever someone seems to not understand the term “his wife”.

It usually happens in galas. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne, forever the best dressed, will always talk to everyone in the room. Bruce will be the one greeting new people while you will be starting simple conversations with the ones you had already met in previous galas.

Most people know their place—Mrs. Wayne is clearly off the market—but there is always at least one man who tries to shoot his shot. And Bruce Wayne always notices.

He notices when the man steps closer and invades your personal space. Not close enough for you to feel his breath, but at an uncomfortable distance that is considered inappropriate. 

You’re never a damsel in distress; you know how to deal with people and you’re quick to remind them of their place. But, for your husband, this is the best part of the night, so you let him mark his territory.

He walks towards you and the man, positioning himself to your left, and his right hand lands in your lower back. Bruce’s smile is somehow arrogant, full of pride and satisfaction. And it is in that moment when he finally gets to say his favourite words.

“I’ve seen you’ve finally met my wife.”

Bruce’s voice is polite and professional, but the word “wife” in particular is territorial, and your husband uses it like a trophy. 

Yes, he is the lucky one to have you and be married to you. And you could fall to your knees right in that moment, but you stay there, with a satisfied smile, enjoying your husband's touch and watching how the man apologizes and moves on to another person. 

You love being Bruce Wayne’s wife and he loves it even more.

A/N: Tomorrow I have my very last exam and I need to pass, so wish me luck. Follow for more :3

Bruce Wayne taglist: @princesstrunkz @currentblasphemy @planetevermore @astraeasworld @andraax2 @dlthl

[sumuse]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ baby? with me?

⠀⠀⠀ asking them if your future kid will look like you or them…

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀— fem!reader, established relationships,pregnancy, breeding kink on roys, sex talk with the guys

⠀⠀⠀ ↳ 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗌: bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ clark kent, roy harper, hal jordan

⟢ 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: another smau but this one is bad😓😓 IM SORRY GUYS. life has been so busy and i barely have time and the motivation to sit my butt down and write but i have ideas okay! they just need to come out…

[pixelbfs]

drummer!roy ... 💭 16+ mostly fluff, roy's in a band

a/n: thank u to the lovely @fluervie and @cherryvvave for proof reading this ♡ i hope both sides of ur pillows are cool tonight

drummer!roy, who you met during one of his underground gigs. he couldn't keep his eyes off of you while performing on the stage. you were the liveliest person there, literally screaming the lyrics to all of the songs his band played that night. he couldn't help but think you were so damn cute <3

drummer!roy, who gave you his number with the excuse of inviting you to his band's next gig. he seemed cool and composed, but inside, he was literally dying from nervousness.

drummer!roy, who practiced like crazy after you confirmed your attendance to his next gig. it weirded his bandmates out, but hey, they'd never complain about better performance!

drummer!roy, who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. he wanted to make sure his performance lived up to your expectations, which was why his eyes were glued on you during the whole set, making sure the smile remained on your face.

drummer!roy, who's anxieties were calmed down after you approached him, raving about how awesome his band was. secretly, he was hoping you'd compliment just him…

drummer!roy, who had to hide his shy giggles around his bandmates when he read your messages that night. the two of you finally had the guts to start flirting, and you were way more straight forward than he expected.

drummer!roy, who finally asked you out for a date after you found out you had similar music taste. you went out shopping for vinyls and CDs, recommending each other music you think the other would like.

drummer!roy, who made out with you in his car while listening to the smashing pumpkins. he was a little timid with his hands considering how fast the two of you were moving, but you wanted fast. you encouraged him to touch you anywhere, everywhere. he genuinely could've died as the happiest man alive right then and there.

drummer bf!roy, who makes you sit on his lap while teaching you how to play the drums. you're terrible, but he's patient. mostly because he gets to feel you pressed up against him.

drummer bf!roy, who starts using his bedroom voice to guide you when he's getting bored. he loves seeing you try to hide your nervous squirming, pretending like you totally weren't turned on.

drummer bf!roy, who kisses your neck and praises you everytime you get something right. it's not long until you're flipped around to face him and you're both doing something else entirely !!!!

drummer bf!roy, who's genuinely into every aspect of you. your looks, your sense of humor, your taste in music—everything just felt right. you felt like the missing piece to an incomplete puzzle.

drummer bf!roy, who wants you to be there for all his gigs. your support means the world to him—plus, he plays better when you're there!

drummer bf!roy, who makes his bandmates learn your favorite songs and perform them

drummer bf!roy, who proudly announces to the crowd, that the next song is dedicated to his partner. he points to you with his drumsticks, making sure everyone knew how hot and awesome you were. he's so proud to show you off.

drummer bf!roy, who didn't expect to fall so head over heels for you, but wouldn't want it any other way.

©pixelbfs on tumblr

likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated ♡

[1nsignia]

boobs or ass? 18+ mdni, multi hc — dc men

—————————————————————————

BRUCE WAYNE — boobs

SUCH a boobs man i’ll literally fight to the ends of the earth to prove you wrong. 

bruce is sooo old fashioned that whenever you’re wearing a push up dress for a gala, his gaze would shamelessly lower to your boobs with his hands practically itching to cup and fondle them. to his defense, they were staring at him first

like i swearrrrrr his hands would be where your ribs were so he can press his thumbs on the lower part of your boobs

im also a firm believer that whenever this man would fuck you via doggy, the first thing his hands would be grabbing onto would be your boobs. his large hands would be groping them and pushing your body back on his over and over by your boobs, his thrusts rougher and burying his cock deeper in you

it would do nothing but make you gape your lips more and arch your back more into his cock with a moan. bruce let out a groan from your pussy walls clenching more as a response to his hands, his blue eyes darkened with desire and pinned on how his hips snapped at your ass repeatedly 

bruce’s lips would trail kisses on your neck until he reached the back of your ear, lightly biting it before whispering filthy things in your ear 

“fuck, look at my girls go” yes, he was talking about your boobs. “so warm—" thrust. “and soft--" thrust. “all for me”

—

DICK GRAYSON — both

dick grayson is a greedy man, he wants anything that he could grab

and YES, his hands would grip on your ass and push your pussy more to his length while you’re riding him, burying his face in your cleavage and letting out muffled moans absorbed by your skin from how good you were taking him

“attagirl” dick panted on your chest, his lips glistening with saliva and smeared all over your skin. “just like that— fuuuck, make this dick yours” 

you couldn’t say anything. all you could do was mindlessly moan with your head knocked back and lips fully parted, your head dizzy from how his cock was hitting all the right angles in you and how big he was in you

you arched your back and buried his face even more to your chest, making dick moan and push another deep thrust in you. the depth made your hips jerk a bit, but his grip on your ass made sure you stayed on his lap as he slowly took over your boobs were bouncing in dick’s face from how fast and deep he was dragging you in and out of his twitching cock.

 “cmon gorgeous” dick murmured, licking a clean stripe on your cleavage before moaning from your pussy clamping around him. “let me see you make a mess f' me”

—

JASON TODD — ass

now dont get me wrong, jason todd loves every part and curve of your body. but if he had to choose, it would be your ass a million percent— bonus point for thighs too

honestly, he loves when there is something for him to grab on. yes, his hands would slither down your ass whenever you were sitting on his lap and talking to him about your day. yes, his hands would just rest between your thighs when sleeping

and yes, he would bend you anywhere just to see that back of yours arch and press your ass to his hips

a moan of jason’s name left your lips when you felt his cock give you another slow yet deep thrust, your walls fluttering from his size and arching your back to press your ass more for his length

when i meant he would bend you anywhere, i meant anywhere— including the kitchen counter

he would purposely send slow yet deep thrusts just to admire your ass, mesmerized by the way it kept making contact with his hips. it was enough for him to let out sounds of his own

“that’s it, sweetheart” jason grunted with another roll of his hips to send to your pussy, gripping your thighs to keep them spread and pinning his eyes on your ass. “just keep that ass up for me”

—

TIM DRAKE — boobs

timothy jackson wayne-drake is a boobs man, no argument needed 

i mean, let’s be for real. it’s no stranger that tim was a workaholic and was often stressed from juggling his two secret lives as tim drake and red robin

but all it took to relieve himself off that stress was to have you sit on his lap and fondle your boob with one hand like a stress toy while the other was mindlessly clicking his mouse 

“tim” you whined to get his attention, making him hum back a response without looking away from the monitor and still fondling your boob.  the fact that he’s not paying attention to you made the heat between your legs unbearable

so unbearable you would start to slowly grind your clothed cunt on his thigh, biting your bottom lip to conceal your sounds as your eyes stayed focused on tim— blue eyes concentrated on the monitors, blue light reflecting the features of his face and lips pressed into a thin line from how focused he was

“tim please” you panted before a small moan left your lips, arching your back to press your boob more into his hand and trying everything you can to satisfy the aching heat in your core. “need you so bad”

you realized you finally caught his attention when his hand squeezed your boob a bit more, making you let out a whimper and place a hand on his cheek, wanting him to look at you and do something about your urge

“i know, love. i know” tim murmured softly, clicking another piece of evidence with his mouse and circling your nipple with his thumb. “im almost done with work. slide a finger in for me in the meantime, yeah?”

—

CLARK KENT — ass

guys, he’s a farmer’s boy. what else did you expect?

everytime you walked away from him to get or do something, clark’s eyes would always and i mean always trail down to your ass and how it swayed with your walk. and everytime, he would immediately fluster under his glasses and look away, pushing his glasses up as a nervous habit

but when you two were in bed and you were sitting on his face, the last thing this man would be was nervous

“more” clark blabbered on your cunt, gripping and squeezing your ass with your large hands as his mouth. only to bury your cunt more into his mouth and suffocate his face in the best way possible. “moremoremoremore—“

clark could be asking more for two things. more for your delicious pussy that he could never get over or more for his hands to continue fondling and squeezing your ass— knowing him, its both

you moaned from his nose now nudging your clit, tightening your grip on his hair and arching your back more on his mouth. “c-clark… oh my god”

your ass was spread more by clark’s hands that refused to let go and the angle his tongue reached in you made a loud moan of his name leave your lips, now grinding your clit on his nose for more

poor man couldn’t get enough that his hands on your ass kept pushing your soaked pussy more into his mouth, so much so that you thought he was gonna suffocate between your thighs

“taste so good, honey” this man was so pussy drunk it was pathetic. “wanna stay here forever”

—

SUPERBOY PRIME — boobs

clark kent may be superboy but he was still a #loser at heart, which was why he almost never let go of your boobs when he could. 

when clark came back home after his shift at the comic store? he let out a tired sigh and immediately walked towards you, already lifting your shirt up and murmuring about his tired day with his face shoved in your boobs

when he would hug you from behind? his hands would slide under your shirt and trail up to cup your boobs. and he’d let out a small whine whenever you’d take his hands off

it’s safe to say that clark kent was obsessed with your boobs. so much so that when your legs were around his waist and his cock was disappearing in and out of you, his hands were groping your boobs. gripping them and playing with your nipples between his fingers as your soft sounds were entering his ears like a melody “you’re so hot, babe” clark moaned with another thrust to keep up with his pace and depth. “feelin’ amazing, in and out” he gave your boobs another squeeze to make his point

the sounds were quick ‘clap!clap!clap!’ sounds repeating over and over and over in the room

his touch, his words, it was sending you into a frenzy. all you could do was moan and pant endlessly, arching your back and pressing your boobs more into his hands with a whine of his name leaving your lips, throwing your head back into the pillows with a pornographic expression on your pretty face

the new angle made him whimper out “shitshitshitshiiiit” and thrust his cock deeper in your pussy, feeling your pussy suck him in more and his cock already twitching. “im gonna cum already, baby”

—

ROY HARPER — ass

abosutely LOVES your ass its almost unhealthy

roy tries to keep his hands to himself whenever lian is in the same room as him (because he doesn’t play about his babygirl). 

but when he looks over her shoulder during their pretend tea time and sees you bending down while rummaging through a cabinet… don’t get me started on that

his eyes would go to your ass and he quietly bites his bottom lip to hold back a grin and those dirty thoughts of his— before lian would make him snap out of it by reminding him to finish his ‘tea’, innocently oblivious from how distracted her dad was

but the minute lian left for a sleepover, the first thing roy made sure to do was to drag you in the bedroom and have you do reverse cowgirl

“uh huh, just like that” he panted, hands gripping on your waist t and watching your ass bouncing back and forth on his cock. a groan slipped out of his lips. “fuuuck, i love this ass. could stare at her all day”

the drag roy’s cock was giving you felt so good it was making you arch your back and moan for more, the wet sounds so filthy and loud it made you thank god lian wasn’t home

“royyy” you whined, feeling the pace of your hips falter despite your orgasm just starting to build up in you. “c-cant… need you to t-take over” you didn’t have to ask him twice. immediately, roy’s hands on your waist took over by dragging your warm walls more onto his length. you felt so warm that he couldn’t help but move his hips back on your ass and knock his head back onto the headboard with a moan

“attagirl” he let out a breathless chuckle from your sounds, lowering his head to admire the view one more time. “just sit there with that pretty ass and let roy do the work, yeah?”

—

WALLY WEST — boobs

if there wasn’t a day where wally west didn’t show love to your boobs, i can assure you that is not him

he loved your boobs. the warmth, the softness, the size, everything. burying his face in your chest with a lopsided grin was wally’s favorite thing to do in the world; nothing sensual, just him absorbing your body warmth and keeping you close to him

can we say he loved them too much? .. maybe

“w-wally! fuck!” you moaned, knocking your head back and burying your hands more into his ginger locks. wally’s mouth was full with the swell of your boob, sucking it while using his super speed to flick your hard nipple with his tongue. his hand gave your other boob attention by fondling it

you can feel your boob practically drenched with his saliva, the sensation of his warm tongue going at such a fast pace driving you crazy. 

wally let out a muffled moan when you arched your back and pressed your boob more into his mouth, sliding another hand down to rub a slow circle on your clit with his thumb and hearing a breathless gasp leave you. 

“fuck, you’re soaked” he said on your boob. “and i didn’t even touch you properly.” the vibrations of his voice making your clit throb in anticipation. and of course, wally just had to grin from that

“wally…” you panted, bringing your head up to look down at him with pleading eyes. “please.. i need you...” “shh i know, beautiful” his fingers was tracing your entrance, feeling your folds pulse from how you need him in you. “let me finish giving my girls more attention and ill get back to her later”

—

—————————————————————————

(@patientofarkhamasylum enjoy <3) okay why tf did this take me three days to write bruh.. bring back the olden days where i would have finished this in one go

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @starl1ghtgr4yson @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae

@darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore @chickenchickenpie @fanofthebatfam @sillygayfreak @tskdeion @potatoheartsyou @faepoetry @theall-seeingone @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @goobfeels (tags are open)

©1nsignia— please do not steal, repost or reuse my work

[wonderrheartt]

FEED MY FRANKENSTEIN

morning coffee with ROY HARPER

NSFW ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ MDNI ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ONE-SHOT ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ MASTERLIST

contains: m+f, hickies, sex in multiple places, doggy, ass play, cunninglingus, blow jobs, 69, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, roy calls himself daddy once, choking

"MEET MY LIBIDO, HE'S A PSYCHO."

Black coffee and kisses along your neck, suckling and nipping at the abused flesh while you try and wake up. Roy’s leg pressed against your pajama clad crotch wishing you would grind your pussy against him. His lips move from your neck — satisfied with the plethora of hickies adorning your skin — going back to your coffee flavoured lips, his tongue snaking in and entangling with yours. Setting the coffee cup down and threading your fingers in his long, luscious locks while the other places firm on his muscular chest. Sucking the soul out of your body, and molding it back into every crevice — molding you as his, recreating your very presence into his creation. His dry and warm lips against yours, and his greedy tongue in your mouth. He swallowed each whimper with pride and pleasure, loving each second he had you pinned by the kitchen cabinets. Kissing you as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal. His scent fills your nostrils mixing with the coffee that lingered. The smell of cedar and musk mixing with his sweat from patrol last night.

His rough, calloused fingers find your panties, slipping under and being greeted with your drenched pussy. Immediately rubbing your aching clit and coaxing moans from your lips. Roy’s fingers slip inside of you, gliding in easily due to how wet you were — pumping fast and hard. The steady pace leaves you breathless, squeaky moans filling his mouth, causing you to sound like a needy puppy. Roy grins deviously, clearly enjoying the sound and the way you melt into his arms. He pulls back, his eyes glaring into yours as he finger fucks you relentlessly, biting his lip and grinning wolfishly. “C’mon, baby… Cum for me — show Daddy just how much you love him.”

You were breathless, panting, and shaking all from Roy. Your legs tremble underneath your weight, and whiny moans escape your lips causing Roy to chuckle. “Yeah… Can't speak? Aw… That’s too bad, baby.” Roy condescendingly pointed out. He felt masculine, and battled his inferiority complex, knowing by just how much it would take for you to melt in his grasp. His fingers never faulted, still pumping just as fast and steady — causing your walls to grip around his digits, and milk them deliciously. Roy knew you were close, any second and that band would snap, any millisecond and you would gush all over his fingers and leave him almost satisfied.

“Yeahhhh, there we go — good girl.” Roy hummed seductively, his fingers slowing down as you rode out your high, your pussy clamping down on his digits — gushing your sweet juices all over him. He slowly withdrew them, and brought them up to his lips, sucking on his fingers and drinking your cum. Staring into your eyes as he hummed with satisfaction. Panting while you watched and went to drink — your now cold — coffee.

After he was done tasting his fingers he picked you up, taking you into the bedroom. Tossing you onto the plush queen size bed and crawling on top of your still panting body, kissing your legs trailing up to your lips. His kisses are soft and sensual, and his eyes flicker every other kiss looking up and glaring into yours. Once his lips meet yours, his tongue finds your tongue and massages yours. Just like the kiss before — his kisses are rough and carnal, sucking your soul out of your body and replacing it inch by inch.

His lips leave yours once more, trailing back down your body and leaving kisses along the way. His hands find your thighs and lift them up, folding them over your body. His tongue licks a thick stripe along your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. His tongue licked your clit, tasting your sweet essence. Broad strokes and suckling on your clit, his fingers slip back inside of you and pump fast and steady. Your pussy clamps down on them and greedily sucks them in — moans filling the air while your pussy gets special treatment once more.

His face buried in your glistening folds, lapping up your arousal as if he was dying of thirst. Soft groans being muffled by your flesh, Roy being the greedy man he really was. Soft mewls escape your lips, your fingers tangled in his auburn locks.

Roy felt your warm pussy flutter and clench around his calloused fingers. His mouth is still lapping at your juices and flicking at your clit. Feeling the familiar knot tangling inside of you, and about to burst — you start whining as you clench hard around Roy’s digits. Jerking around as you cum all over Roy’s fingers. He pulled off of your clit, and lapped up your cum, swallowing each gush.

Whining like a puppy as you rode out your high, your eyes closed as you panted. Roy widely grins, almost satisfied that he made you cum twice now.

Just as you thought Roy was done with you…

He strips off his clothes — starting with his white tank top, flinging it across the room. Then his pajama pants, freeing his member. He lays on the bed with you, picking up your limp body and places you on his abs. “Suck my dick, baby.”

His face is once more buried in your cunt, his cock thrusts in and out of your mouth. His nose brushes against your weeping hole, and his fingers prod your tight muscle — slowly working it open for him. Once hand keeping you in place, making sure you couldn't escape him. His cock stretches out your swollen lips, sucking him off while your hands play with his heavy balls. The scent of his musky arousal is all you can smell, whimpering around his thick cock — feeling each lick on your overstimulated clit.

He thrusts his hips up, causing you to gag around his dick — chuckling as your throat clenched around him. His tongue focuses on your aching clit, suckling the bundle of sensitive and overstimulated nerves. Your thighs tremble as you feel yourself reach your peak once more. His fingers slip inside your warm hole, using the slick arousal from your pussy as lube. Slowly dragging them in and out, causing you to clench around them. Your pussy aching for his fingers and wishing it was being abused instead.

His heavy balls tighten as you sucked on him harder, whimpering around his cock. He panted against your pussy, and his hips thrusted erratically. With a muffled cry your orgasm washed over you, your hips jerking and pushing back on Roy’s face, suffocating him with your spasming pussy. Roy groans as he slurps up your arousal, lapping at your twitching sex. Shooting cum down your throat as he finally reaches his peak, the salty white liquid tickling at your tongue and throat, coating your mouth.

Swallowing all of it, and panting from your high, Roy moves your limp body off of him. Positioning you on all fours. Kneading your flesh with his hand and pumping his fingers inside your thick ring of muscle. Scissoring and stretching it loosely. When he was done he pulled out his fingers and spanked your cheek. He grabbed your hips and pulled you against him, his cock easily gliding in your pussy. Thrusting in and bottoming out, a deep groan of satisfaction escapes his lips. “So perfect f’me.” He waits a few seconds before pulling back out till just his tip was left inside of you, slamming back in and setting a fast and rough pace.

“Look at that.”

His hand kneads your sweet flesh, groping and squeezing your cheeks — smacking it as it bounces around his cock.

“Such a pretty sight.”

He wraps his muscular arm around your throat, pulling you back against him. His hips thrusting relentlessly, giving their all. The slick sounds of your abused flesh filling the room, along with whimpers and groans, and skin slapping against flesh. His lips find your neck again, sucking deep bruises into your skin. Marking you as his inside and out.

“Everyone’s gonna know you're mine.”

Nipping and licking at your neck, you’ve lost count at how many hickies he's left. Your walls flutter around his cock, signaling that you're close.

You breathlessly whimpered against his arm and raked your nails across his wrists. The pressure from his arm tightens leaving you breathless, your fuzzy and dazed head leaning backwards. His free hand moves to your clit circling against the sensitive bud, the pressure building as you could feel another orgasm approaching. Your orgasm crashes over you, milking his cock with every squeeze and flutter. With a guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied himself in your spasming core.

Roy laid limp next to you kissing your forehead, and pulled you close in his arms. “You did good, baby.”

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

I read your Roy and well...hear me out....Jason AND Roy. i just feel like when those two get together they wind each other up. They talk to each other...act like you're not even there...Roy being the literal devil on Jason's shoulder...just 'how about some training, princess. A little two on one? Not all fights are fair. Come on, Jay-Bird'll help out too. Think you can take us both?'

👀🙃🥵

MY FAVORITE DUO UGHHH ESPECIALLY WHEN THEIR BOTH LOWKEY INTO EACHOTHER, NOT JUST US‼️😻

Training Practice

Roy Harper x Jason Todd x Reader

Yippee more smut!! Sorry I've been so inactive, but work has been busy and I'm about to go on a cruise with my bf of 3 years for our anniversary!! I 💗 my bf

Anywayyyy we've got some petnames (ma, mama, sweetheart, slut), anal (f receiving), vaginal, 3 some, Roy being my fav pathetic loser, unprotected sex, and degredation

"Not all fights are fair, princess."

Jason's nickname has your eyes rolling, a frustrated heat creeping up your cheeks as your arms cross over your chest. It was supposed to be just a usual training session, since the three of you had some high risk mission coming up yada yada yada.

The truth is, none of you really felt like training today. Jason was pissed off at Bruce for god knows what, Roy was tired from dealing with a fussy and sick Lian all night long, and you were just so done with everything. Just one of those days, you know?

But you were the one to finally drag the group of you into a training session, knowing better than to let yourself get lax right before a mission that could easily cost your lives. You regret it. You think. Maybe you're not sure.

It's hard to think much of anything when youre pressed up between the red head and Red Hood.

Both of their shirts were long discarded, left haphazardly somewhere along the sweat-slicked floor. Two chests trap you in from either side- Jason at your front as Roy's hands begin to caress up and down your back, occasionally dipping just low enough to brush over your globes.

You're not sure why you really agreed to this. You knew exactly how this would end, yet you let it happen anyway. But maybe you were craving it. Maybe it was inevitable as the heat and humidity clung to your skin this morning, or how the atmospheric changes were making you feel just a little too restless to stay in bed yet too hot to do much else.

"Fights with you two are never fair."

Roy lets out a soft hum, pressing his chest against the skin left exposed by your sports bra. His skin is slick and sticky, but you know that he won't move even if you ask.

Jason isn't much further, one of his hands coming up to release your hair from it's bindings. You knew better than to put too much into your hair today- Jay always has a thing for pulling it out during training lessons. He says it's just to prepare you for the occaision that somebody does actually try stomething like that, but you know better than to ignore the glint in his eyes.

"You don't want it to be fair," Jay corrects, tugging your head just far enough back for your eyes to meet. "If you really wanted a fair fight, we would've gone to the gym where we at least have a bit of shame."

You shudder slightly, your shoulders pushing back into Roy. Because he's right. You wanted this to happen. You knew that this would never end well, especially training at a private arena that was undoubtedly paid for by Bruce's debit card.

Your decisions make you wonder: how long has it been since you've had a good fuck?

The silence between the three of you doesn't last too long- Jason can't stand it. Instead of letting it linger, his lips crash directly onto yours without warning. Sure, Jason has had plenty of women in his second life, but every kiss is still consistant of only teeth and tongue.

Roy Harper, however, can't stand being left out. You're not at all suprised when you feel his barely concealed bulge pressing against your shorts. You're even less surprised when his hands reach around your sides and to your front in order to get handfuls of your breasts.

Warm breaths brush across your skin from either side of your body, leaving dewy moisture in their wakes. Eventually, Jason finds the will to pull away from your bite-swollen lips, only to dip down and press wet kisses along your neck. You almost get caught up in how it feels. Almost.

Until Roy is kneeling down to tug on the bottom of your shorts. The way you swat his hand away is almost like a second instinct after how many times he's tried to pull something similar in public.

"Watch it," he practically snarls, but the red, flushed state of his face makes him hard to take seriously. You can practically imagine the anger in his eyes that he tries oh so hard to muster up, making you giggle. It's a small sound, almost permicable if the room hadn't been so silent.

'WHACK!'

Is what's heard next, a stinging handprint forming on your ass from Roy's hard slap. A small shriek made it's way through your lips, filling the air between you and Jason as he finally pulls away from your neck.

The next few moments are a blur of sounds and touch: Jason's hands pulling away, the faint sounds of both his and Roy's shorts and boxers being pulled down, the feeling of your shorts slowly falling down your thighs and onto the floor...

With everything else going on, you almost didn't realize that Jason managed to keep eye contact the entire time. The jade-ish hue was almost enough to stop your heart, seemingly gazing into a part of your soul that even you didn't know existed.

Roy Harper doesn't have that kind of patience, though. Not when it comes to you.

Or anything else really.

He's already grinding up against your ass like a mutt in heat, hands greedily gripping at your hips. His fingers may leave bruises come tomorrow morning, but they could easily be brushed off as training damage.

Jason is taking his time, breathing you in as he reaches down to give his erection a few slow strokes. You can't help the way your eyes drop down lower and lower, only stopping when his pink-flushed flesh is in view. Something about the slightly-curved girth is just so hard to pry your gaze from.

It's not like its the first time you've seen either of them like this: you're a bit of a perv too... Staring just a little too long when they get geared up for missions, listening in on their breathy grunts and moans while the masturbate in the room right next to yours, and, lets be honest, you've all helped each other out more times than you can count. A pervy girl's gotta get by somehow, right?

"Wish I could see these pretty tits, mama..." Roy whispers against your neck, the warmth of his beath tickling your skin as his hands leave their perch on your hips to grope your breasts through your sports bra, "Jason's too greedy to let me take you from the front, though."

Jay lets out a snicker at that, hand guiding his cock to brush against your clit just enough to make you shiver. The small bead of precum gathered on his plump tip spreads across your already sticky folds, adding to the moisture thats only bound to heighten.

"These are my tits, aren't they, ma?" He coos, one hand brushing over a hardened nipple as he pushes Roy's hand away slightly. The Red Hood always gets what he wants- whether it's access to your tits or the latest info on a drug bust he's been working on.

"Acting like you own me and shit, huh, Jay?" You spit back, playing along with the banter that the three of you are oh so familiar with. Some part of you wants to back down, to have an easier night with the two of them than you usually have after such a hard training session, but you just can't resist it. "Entitlement doesn't look good on you, Hood."

With little to no warning, Jason is already picking you up and setting your aching folds onto him, sinking all the way down in one go. A shocked and slightly pained moan escapes you, your nails digging into his biceps to steady yourself as he practically splits you open. The feeling of his cock so deep inside of your velvet walls so quickly tore the air from your lungs, leaving you panting and gasping while he fills you to the point where you can feel him in your stomach.

"Not so mouthy now, huh, slut?" Jay breathes against your ear, even though one of his hands moves to rub and soothe at your back. He can't bring himself to hurt you- not really, anyway. The most he can really do is a small slap to your face and guilt immediately floods him afterwards. Just because he isn't mean doesn't mean he can't be rough, though.

Roy knows that you're sensitive, still catching your breath from Jason's intrusion, but he really can't help himself. He quickly brings two of his fingers to his mouth, coating them in a thick layer of sticky saliva. His other hand finally leaves your breast, only to land a small 'Smack!' to your ass- his version of a warning before sliding two fingers past the tight ring of muscles of your ass.

"Fucking Christ, Harper!" You gasp into Jason, legs giving out slightly and sinking yourself deeper onto both of them. It's not like you haven't let one of them play around with both of your holes at one point or another, but both at once? It's too much yet not enough.

Roy has the audacity to laugh at you- actually laugh at you. As if he's not the one rutting into your cheeks like a fucking rabbit. Two of his fingers slide in and out of your hole, scissoring and coaxing you to open up just a little bit more to fit his leaking cock.

Jason, surprisingly, decides to be patient with you and wait until your sweet little asshole is stretched out nicely before moving. For now, at least. You know better than to be naive with his motives, but you're grateful at the moment.

"Look at this tight little hole..." Roy whispers, finally removing his fingers from your twitching hole and spreading your cheeks. You feel so bare, exposed, embarrassed... But Roy doesn't give you time to dwell in it. Instead, he lines the head of his pale cock up with your entrance and slowly presses forward, stealing the air from both of your lungs.

Jason looks smug in front of you... Too smug. "Look at that..." He muses, nipping a few marks along your neck, "if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say that you were a sweet little virgin with all of that whining and bitching."

When Roy finally bottoms out, both of you let out soft sighs and strangled moans. His balls, speckled in ginger hairs, practically press against Jason's cock inside of your pussy. Honestly, Roy's always had a thing for his ballsack being played with during sex, especially unintentionally.

A small breath of relief escapes you as the three of you still, though it doesn't last long. Within the blink of an eye, Roy's hips are snapping back and forth against your jiggling ass. Something within in almost feels guilty, but you're just so tight and sweet... What else is a man supoosed to do?

Jason joins not too long after, his cock absolutely bullying your cunt in a flash. With how your standing- well, moreso being held by Jay- both of them are hitting just the right spot before you could even beg them to slow down. "Oh, fuck... Pretty little cunt is just milking me dry already," he groans into your ear, one of his hands reaching to grasp Roy's bicep for stability.

Roy nearly whines at that.

"Such a tight little pussy..." He continues, snapping up into you recklessly, "almost like you were begging for this cock. You were just waiting for your friends to fill you on up, weren't you?" His pace doesn't falter, and neither does Roy's... Not even when both of your holes are sucking them right in.

The ginger is already breathless behind you, gasping in the sweat-filled air of the training room. He can't stop looking at where your hips meet and where his cock is sliding in and out of your ass, almost like he's hypnotized by your body.

"Doing alright over there, Arsenal?" You try to tease, only to be cut off by a harsh slap on your ass. You're sure that'll leave a bright red mark in the morning- hell, it practically echoed through the room.

"Just as good as you are, angel..." He counters, letting out a soft moan against your shoulder. "Maybe Jaybird n' I will have to fuck some manners into you, huh, Hood?"

Jason only hums in agreement, his free hand reaching down to play with your sensitive clit. "I don't think this dumb slut is even capeable of learning such things," he teases, rubbing tight circles around your bundle of nerves.

The added stimulation has your body on fire, struggling to even stay standing, let alone come up with more playful quips. You hate to admit it, but you're practically reduced to a heap of moans, sweat, and slick. A familiar coil burns deep in your abdomen, sending shivers up your spine and moans ripping from your throat.

"Don't tell me you're gonna cum already, sweetheart," Jay coos with sickening sweetness, hitting just the right angle inside of your gummy walls as he readjusts his hold. "You won't even outlast Harper... How pathetic."

It's no secret that, if riled up just the right way, Roy will cream in his pants for just about anyone. It's a bit of a turn off for most women- but for you? It's actually kinda hot. You're honeslty a little into being even more pathetic than even him.

Jason's words have you teetering right over the edge, shivering against his chest and practically screaming against his skin. You can almost immediately feel the rush of liquid dripping from your cunt down his cock, covering his balls in your slick effortlessly. He can't help but growl at the feeling, ramming right up into you to finally chase his own orgasm.

Roy, however, lost it as soon as he was being degraded. His balls already felt so tight, so drawn up close to his body- he really couldn't help it. His thrusts stopped almost immediately as his cock emptied spurt after spurt of his hot cum in your tight ass. "Oh, fuck-" he whines, continuing his movements once again as he begins to tremble from overstimulation.

Jason's not done, though- not yet. His hair is sticking to the slick sweat of his forehead, the white streak almost covered in moisture. His chest is covered in sweat too- or was it your drool? You're really too out of it to tell. You can tell he's almost there, standing at the edge of a cliff and waiting to fall off.

"Fucking fill me, Jay-"

Within an instant, his breath stutters and his groans turn into a loud, primal moan. Jason's always had a weakness for filling up his lover, whether it's your pussy or Roy's ass. "Shit..." he breaths as his cum paints your velvet walls, warning you in a way that's otherwise impossible.

The pair of them continue to thrust into you slowly, alnsot as if they can't bear being away from the warmth of your crevices. The room smells of sweat, sex, and what can only be described as them. Eventually, they both soften enough to pull out of your used holes, leaving your knees weak and chest heaving. Neither of them hesitate to hold you up when you start to fall.

"Easy there, sweetheart..." Jason coos, brushing your wet hair away from your forehead. "You're okay. We're here."

Well, maybe not all there- Roy is boarderline passed out on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you like he physically can't let go.

Maybe he can't. Maybe neither of them can.

Maybe you're okay with that.

Masterlist

[waltzingphantoms]

of waiting to be consumed by you ridiculously attractive things they do including | dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne & roy harper playing | the first taste- fiona apple

dick grayson- constantly shirtless

Somehow, he always finds an opportunity to take his shirt off whenever possible. He doesn’t do it to stroke his ego by showing his muscles and tan skin (well, maybe he wants to show off a little), but he just overheats way too easily, hence, removing the easiest thing he can get off his body.

It is definitely not uncommon to arrive at your apartment and find him just in sweatpants making dinner, or lounging around, or fixing his gear, or hanging out with his family. Matter of fact, everyone’s used to it already, so no one really bats an eye when Dick’s hands start to go towards the hem of his t-shirt.

He even has learnt tricks and some fancy ways to twirl his body around to make it sillier for those beside him, so at least they get a show of it. His favourite is a one-handed trick that left you completely flustered because he had one hand splayed on your waist while he pulled you to his chest, and with the other, he just took his shirt off with such ease that it almost made you stutter.

jason todd- casual dominance

He takes the lead everywhere he goes with such natural confidence that you just can’t help but ogle at him. There’s a fine line between being a gentleman and what he is, because the first one he considers basic common sense, but the latter is just how he has always been.

I’m talking about covering corners when you near one in the off chance you can get hurt, one hand always on your body when you’re outside, he doesn’t care if he’s holding your hand, you’re holding his arm or he places his in the small of your back. Replaces things for you before they run out, always assertive and direct with you in every context, he doesn’t play with you, ever.

Something he subconsciously started doing was speaking up in your place whenever you gave him “the look”, when everything is too much at the same time and you just want to go home but still have things to do. Ordering at a restaurant but you don’t really feel like talking? Consider it done. At a bookstore but you can’t find what you’re looking for? He’s asking the workers before you can finish your sentence. Jason often thinks he’s not the most incredible person ever, but he’ll always make sure to accommodate you to feel safe everywhere.

tim drake- pays attention

Tim stares A LOT, but not in a creep way, but rather in a “I’m trying to figure you out without you having to tell me” and he always guesses right. A slight change in your routine cannot go unnoticed if he’s nearby, and if he deems the situation appropriate, he’ll ask you about it, making sure everything’s okay.

“You have moved three times in 30 minutes since you sat down on the couch, is it that the cushions are too hard or that nasty fall on the staircases from Wednesday kicking your ass?” kinda observation. Very smooth with it too, since he doesn’t really bring things up until you find on your kitchen counter that one brand of tea you mentioned offhandedly months ago that your mom used to make you as a kid, and now you’re full-on sobbing because ??? how did he remember and where did he find them??

He likes paying attention to you, he finds comfort in being the one to know you best and learning what makes you be you. Long and deep conversations with each other is something you both cherish, but also knowing your body language, how you think and your passions makes him feel completely connected to you.

damian wayne- protective, not possessive

There’s something in the way Damian’s brain works that makes him want to protect intensely everything he loves, those being most of the time his family, the few material things the takes care of, and you. He doesn’t think of you as his or anyone’s for that matter, but that you and him belong together, and he isn’t shy when showing it.

This tendency of his is mostly shown because he cares, he cares so much that his family was confused at first because he’s usually grumpy and avoidant, but now, Damian clings to you the moments he’s with you. He often displays this as latching onto you and asking about you frequently, just enough to tread on the line between annoying and overbearing like “possessive insecure guys, which I’m clearly not” and protective and caring, always falling into the last category.

He likes when you go to him, doesn’t matter what for. A problem, a rant, a cuddle, or just his simple presence, he’s there for everything, holding onto them, protecting whatever you need him for.

roy harper- matches your freak

Roy’s up to do anything, he doesn’t really care if it’s embarrassing or loud, you tell him if he wants to do something and he’s up at 6 am the next day ready for it. You once confided in him that you felt a bit worried at times for being “too much” or “too weird” and even if he never thought of you like that, he spends every day proving that even if you feel that way, he’ll be by your side doing the same thing.

Tik tok trends, cringy dance moves in the kitchen, drunk confessions, not only he matches your freak, but he also corresponds it. Oh, you’re worried you talked a bit loud at the restaurant because you got too excited telling him the new game you’re playing? He’s screeching at the top of his lungs the next second because he thought he saw a bug, whoopsies.

It may feel incredibly silly to bystanders, but him being comfortable enough with you and himself to act that way is just to incredibly attractive that you even worry about yourself for finding that so hot. Meanwhile, Roy’s by your side with a Minecraft t-shirt waiting for you to come out of your thoughts to beat the ender dragon together.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

hi 👋 if you’re not busy, could I request a roy harper smut fic where he turns his hat around backwards to eat the reader out (bonus points if the hat stays on while they have sex) 🫶🫶💕

ROY HARPER can't live without his hat.

Or, at least, that's what you've decided. You're pretty sure that the only times you've seen him take it off have been in the shower and in bed.

But, clearly, that's been reduced to only the shower.

"Roy, take the fucking hat off."

It should have been a simple request, really, but Roy took it as a challenge. "What, think I can't eat your pretty pussy with it on?" He teases, turning the hat backwards and pausing for a brief moment to run his fingers through his ginger hair.

And, just like always, Roy devoured like you'd be the last meal he'd ever eat.

His tongue is absolutely filthy, pressing into all of your folds just the right way to have you squirming against the mattress. When your hands finally reach the back of his head, though, you know you've found the silver lining to your lover wearing his hat in bed.

Your hands pull at the rim of his hat, lifting his head up and away from your throbbing, overstimulated pussy. You could've sworn you heard a moan escape his mouth, low and growl like as his hands grip onto your hips.

"Thought you didn't like the hat," he muses, licking your slick off of his lips.

"I didn't," you admit, "but it gives me a good grip and makes you moan like a whore."

Main Masterlist

A/N: holy shit this req has probably sat in my inbox for the last year (along with the other 39😅) but I hope i delivered!! Also, day 5!! Super glad ive gotten back into this. I missed you guys sm💗