SOON-TO-BE-FWB!DICK GRAYSON, who never would’ve touched the idea of a casual, no-strings relationship with a ten foot pole. He didn’t want to use someone, it felt inherently wrong. To only expect sex and nothing else on top of it, it didn’t sit right with him.
But when you, his coworker and long time mission partner, pushed him against a side table and knocked over his key dish in the pursuit of your lips on his and his clothes on the ground, he found himself melting into it. Reaching out and gripping the back of your neck and moaning as your lips dragged over his Adam’s apple.
“I normally get wined and dined first—” he joked breathlessly before his subsequent whine was swallowed be your eager lips to shut him up. Your hands tugged off his v-neck (cashmere, by the way) and let it frump to the floor in an undignified pile.
Oh, fuck it.
Your panties bunched at your ankles as he fucked into you, palm flat on the wall and his moans echoing into your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the hollow. “Yeah, fuuuuck, baby, just like that,” He panted, his button up hanging open. Maybe he was more into this idea than once thought.
Your knees were at his hips, the side table rattling with every upward stroke of his cock that kissed your cervix beautifully. Holy shit, you literally had no words.
“You gonna come, honey?” Hypocritical when he was five seconds away from coming, but he couldn’t help it plus the inherent need to know he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. But the way your pussy walls were fluttering around his dick, you were too. Thank heavens.
He cupped your jaw and consumed your soul through your lips, burying himself in you to the hilt one last time, a deep moan from his mouth shocking one out from you too as you too came five seconds after him. Not really kissing anymore, just his nose smushed awkwardly on yours so you could see the pretty flush on his cheeks and his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, panting as if he’d run a marathon.
“Shitfuck.” He breathed, the most he’d cursed within ten seconds, wiping a bead of sweat off your temple before kissing it. A little too romantic for your tastes, but you allowed it. “Oh, that’s not right.” He muttered, his stupidly hot blue eyes flicking over your naked body.
Was he gonna say this should never happen again? “What’s not right?”
He leaned forward, running the tip of his nose over yours so you jugular. His floppy hair tickled your jaw. “I didn’t,” He kissed a random spot softly, “eat you out first.”
“Did you want to?” You blinked.
“To be honest, I didn’t see this situation coming,” You both laughed breathlessly, but then his finger ran over your slit lazily, collecting your juices with a quiet shlick. Your thighs trembled.
“Shiiiit—”
“But after you came on my cock like that,” He began to genuflect, “I wanna feel it on my tongue.”
Summary: When Barbara and Cass start training a new Batgirl, Stephanie isn't sure what to think. You're perfect, everything she wants to be and everything she could never have, and your arrival forces Stephanie to confront whether she wants to be you, or be with you
froggi yaps -> lowk this has been sitting in my drafts foreverr because i know it won't do as well as my other dc fics and that made me sad >.< but i love steph and hopefully the other 12 steph enjoyers will like this <3
If you asked Stephanie Brown who Batgirl was, she’d say it depends.
Barbara’s Batgirl was strong, brave, and cunning. A pathfinder, a wonderful hero who saved countless lives and gave everything she had to the life. She was a pioneer, a champion who pathed the way for the rest of them.
Cass’s Batgirl was different, a fresh take on an old hero. Though she’s quiet, though she’s vicious in her fighting, she’s still heroic. She brings a calm sort of comfort wherever she goes.
But if you asked her about herself, she’s not sure what she’d say. She’s a civilian amongst gods, someone dressed in a knockoff costume playing pretend while the others do the real heroic work. A cheap imitation of the real thing.
As far as hero-ing goes for her, she already feels that she doesn’t have much going on. Not that she needs the reminder.
Entering the Batcave, already exhausted from her lack of sleep and the incredibly long day she’s had, she’s not sure what to expect. Maybe the usual arguing amongst Bats, Tim and Damian trading insults like a normal day while Cass sits quietly and reads in the corner.
Definitely not the scene that comes to play out in front of her—Barbara and Cass teaching someone new to spar, someone she’s never seen before who is very much dressed in a rendition of the Batgirl costume. She blinks, rubbing her eyes like the scene will disappear when she does.
It doesn’t.
Her lips purse into a frown. Another Batgirl? Something ugly twists in her chest. She’d fought like hell for this mantle, had done it all on her own against the will of pretty much everybody, and here’s someone new, wearing it with the support of both her predecessors.
She shakes her head, blonde hair bouncing. No, that’s not fair. She forces a smile, stepping up to the mat to watch.
She watches quietly for a few minutes while you trade blows with Cass, watches you fight as hard as you can to keep up with Cass who’s very clearly restraining herself. Cass sweeps a leg, taking you down to the mat easily, your mask bouncing off your face.
You squeak, sitting up and rubbing the back of your head where it hit the mat.
Steph’s eyes widen slightly. You took that hit like a champ, and now, seeing you without the mask, she can’t help but think how pretty you are. That twistiness inside of her only grows heavier.
“Hey, good timing,” Babs calls, waving her over.
Steph tugs down her hood and mask. “Hey, guys.” She strains to keep her voice as cheery as usual, “who’s this?”
Cass introduces the two of you, and Steph can’t help but note the way she already seems warmed up to you. How long has this been going on?
You smile and step forward, offering her a hand. “I’ve heard so much about you!!”
“Hi.” She takes your hand, that same strained smile on her face, and shakes it. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
She can’t help but notice the softness of your palm against hers—not yet calloused by night after night of hard fighting and acrobatics—and the purple sheen on your nails, almost perfectly matched to her costume. Her hand lingers just a moment too long.
“She’s helping us with this drug trafficking operation at the docks,” Barbara explains, and Steph wonders if she can see through the facade she’s putting on. “Cass and I are helping her brush up on her fighting skills.”
She nods thinly, “right.”
“The Batgirl thing is just temporary,” you explain. “I just needed something to conceal my identity and Babs—”
Stephanie winces at the way the nickname rolls off your tongue, like you’ve always been friends.
“—just had this one laying around.” You finish.
You do a little twirl in the costume, the long cape splaying out as you do. Steph can’t help but look you up and down, examining the way the costume seems to fit and accentuate every curve on your body. Her eyes widen slightly. It fits you like a glove.
The three of you get back to your training, leaving Steph to watch on the sidelines. Slowly, she edges her way out until she’s back outside in the Gotham rain.
If you asked Stephanie now who Batgirl was—her version at least—she could only tell you one thing: replaceable.
The Batgirl thing, it seems, is not just temporary, and Stephanie can’t seem to escape you.
She’s gotten used to your presence now—the way you linger nearby on missions, the way you spend more time with Cass than without, the way your eyes occasionally meet hers only for you to look away quickly like it never happened. She’s never quite sure if you’re judging her, or trying to get her attention, or some other third thing she hasn’t thought of yet.
It would almost be sweet, if it didn’t have her feeling so self-conscious.
It’s after patrol one night, the summer sun just beginning to kiss the horizon of Gotham City, when you catch up with her.
“Steph, hey, Steph, wait up!”
She’s tempted, if only for a moment, to speed up and pretend she hasn’t heard. And yet, for some reason, she can’t. You’ve never been anything but perfectly nice to her, and this jealous mean girl act of hers is so high school.
She tugs down her mask, turning to face you. “What’s up?”
“I think Cass and I were going to this cafe this morning for breakfast, do you want to come?” You smile awkwardly, tilting your head to the side, “they have amazing coffee.”
She considers it for a moment, gears whirring in her head. Some coffee and breakfast would be amazing right now, as well as some time with Cass. But you’ll be there, like a constant reminder of everything she isn’t, and she knows she won’t be able to keep up her positive mood the whole time.
She flashes you a weak grin, “I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.”
“Oh,” disappointment flashes behind your eyes. “No worries, sleep well.”
You turn on your heel to leave, approaching the edge of the old warehouse rooftop you’ve been standing on, when suddenly you look over your shoulder. The golden light of the rising sun reflects off your skin, making your eyes glow and your skin shimmer. You look so pretty like this, Steph can’t help but be a little grateful she only sees you at night.
“I’ll get Cass to text you the address,” you say, that familiar hope back on your face, “y’know, in case you change your mind.”
“Thanks.”
Despite what she said, an hour later Steph finds herself freshly showered and digging through her closet.
She pulls out a casual pink sundress and tries it on, standing in the mirror and examining herself. She frowns at her reflection, smoothing her hands over the dress like that’ll make it fit better. It doesn’t.
Discarding it in the growing pile of clothes on her bed, Steph goes back to the drawing more. She pulls different garments out, trying them on only to drop them back in the pile. She always never struggles this much getting ready, least of all for a casual breakfast with friends.
Sighing, she lets herself flop onto her bed, sitting on her mountain of clothes. It’s just a casual outing, Steph, she tells herself. Just pick a damned outfit,
But she can’t, because all she can think about is what you’re going to be thinking. Are you going to look at her with those eyes like you usually do? She wonders what you’ll be wearing, if you’ll be dressed casual or cute or comfortable. Knowing you, it’s probably some perfect combination of the three.
Her eyes flutter closed as she pictures it. You, wearing some comfy practical outfit, hair perfect, sipping on some fancy drink from the cafe. She thinks about how your face will light up when she walks into the cafe, the way you’ll smile and wave at her when she approaches the table.
“Glad you can make it,” you’ll probably say, or some other line of the sort.
Her heart speeds up at the thought, stomach doing a whirlwind. You’re so…perfect, and here she is, sitting in her mess of a room, unable to pick a damned outfit. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.
Tears prick at her eyes. One minute, that’s all she asks. One minute where you’re not constantly on her mind, where she’s not constantly wondering about what you’re doing, who you’re with or how you’ll replace her next.
She doesn’t end up going to the cafe.
Steph’s not sure how she ended up here.
The two of you, trapped in a burning warehouse, surrounded by low level lackeys. She’s not even sure who they work for, their outfits a mess of colours and patterns that she can’t quite make out through the steadily thickening smoke.
Your back is pressed to hers, the warmth of your body seeping through both of your costumes, acting as a comfort. At least, it would be a comfort, if the two of you were in any other situation.
The masked men close in, the roar of the distant fire burning gets louder. Steph’s nerves catch fire, buzzing with the impending promise of action. She bounces on her heels, loosening up her muscles just like she was taught. One more step, one more step and she’s ready.
The heel of the closest man inches forward. Steph pounces. All hell breaks loose.
It’s a blur of action, of fighting her way through the seemingly neverending wave of goons. Her muscles ache, every punch and kick only making the burning under her skin worse. The warehouse gets hotter, the smoke rises, clogging her senses.
Behind her somewhere, the sounds of your own violence echo off the walls. You’ve always been a good fighter—probably better than her—but something in the back of her mind buzzes with worry. Like something bad is going to happen, like she needs to look out for you.
She shakes it away, diving back into the action, trying to ignore the constant nagging in the back of her mind.
She finishes off the last of her men, freezing at the sudden silence. She can’t hear you fighting anymore, can’t see you through the smoky haze. Her heart hammers in her chest. Where on Earth could you have gone?
One second. That’s how long she’s distracted for, maybe less. But one second is all it takes for someone to come up behind her, a forearm pressed over her throat and a leg hooking over her ankles. She’s taken quickly to the ground, back thudding hard against the hard ground.
Stars explode behind her eyes, the wind knocked out of her. Through the haze, she just manages to make out the masked goon above her and the gun barrel shoved inches from her face. She cringes, bracing herself to duck and roll, to do anything but lay here and take it.
And just like that, he’s gone, slammed into the ground by a familiar figure. You’re breathing heavily above Steph, eyes wide behind your mask as you reach a hand to help her up.
She grabs you, letting you tug her to the feet, and the way your hand lingers on hers reminds her of the day you met. Your jaw is slack, worry written across every feature. Steph blinks, letting the air come back to her lungs.
“T-thanks,” she gasps.
“We need to get out of here.”
Steph nods curtly, letting you tug her after you as you search for the exit, only dropping her hand when you brace yourself against the emergency exit and shove hard. Cold night air greets her, filling her burning lungs with sweet relief.
She’s dizzy from the smoke, dizzy from the hit she took. Her lips purse into frown. It’s surely going to leave a big, ugly bruise. Goodbye sundresses.
Standing on the rooftop of the burning warehouse, she watches you approach the edge, scoping out the ground below for any sign of the goons who almost overwhelmed you.
You turn to face her. “Tim called the fire department, they’re on the way.”
She braces her hands on her knees, still lightheaded from the fall. The fall. She forces herself to stand up straight, peeling off her mask and hood. “Where did you go back there?”
“Huh?”
“You—you disappeared, it distracted me. Where did you go?”
She cocks a hand on her hip, waiting for an explanation. She was too busy worrying about you, about your safety, to take care of herself. If it weren’t for your impromptu disappearance, she wouldn’t be coughing her lungs up like an amateur right now.
You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly. “One of them tried to get away and—”
“You couldn’t have told me that?” She snaps, walking towards you, closing the gap until you’re inches away. “We’re partners, you’re supposed to tell me these things.”
“I didn’t think I had time!”
“Or you just wanted the glory for yourself,” she spits bitterly.
You pause, lips parting in confusion. She tugs at her hair. Even now, a slight cut on your cheek and sweaty from battle, you still look perfectly cute. She’s sure she must look a complete mess, sweaty and dirty and bruised.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She tucks a sweaty strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Nothing, just—nevermind.”
You shake your head. “No, what did you mean?”
“I mean it’s—it’s—”
Frustration bubbles up in her chest, muscles pulling taut like she’s about to enter another fight. She’s not even sure where she’s going for it, what word vomit she’s about to shove in your face now. You’re inches away, staring at her like a deer in the damn headlights, and she’s the lone car on the road with the choice to hit you or not.
“It’s what?”
“It’s you! Always being so—so perfect about everything, being everyone’s favorite, having everything come naturally to you and—and—”
And that urge buzzes beneath her fingertips, that urge she’s always felt just beneath the surface. The one she felt that day you met, when she’d had that fear you’re replacing her. The one she’s felt every day since when you’re around, the same one she gets before a big fight.
She raises a hand and you don’t even flinch, looking up at her with those damn wide eyes. She’s not sure who’s more confused by what she’s doing—you, or her.
And then she’s kissing you, the taste of smoke heavy on both of you. Her hand reaches to cup your cheek, thumb swiping over the length of your cheekbone. It’s hot and tense and she feels more that she’s trying to eat you alive than kiss you.
She pulls away, taking a big jump back like she’s been burned.
“Steph,” you breathe her name.
She shakes her head, closing her eyes. “No.”
“Stephanie—”
“No, okay? I don’t—I don’t want to talk about it.” She’s shaking slightly, her voice breaking on the words, “I don’t even—I don’t want to see you right now. Okay? Just…just forget it.”
She spins on her heel, bolting over to the far end of the rooftop. She can still taste you on her tongue, like smoke and leftover chapstick and something else buried beneath. She wipes at her mouth and the taste still lingers, follows her down the fire escape at the edge of the roof, chases after her on the way home.
It’s only when she’s in the shower, desperately trying to wash it away, that she feels she can breathe again. What on Earth was that?
Your soap isn’t enough to wash away the smell of smoke on your body, or the taste of Steph’s chapstick lingering in your mouth. You stand under the water for what must be an hour, scrub every inch of your body twice, and still, it doesn’t help. Stephanie’s voice still rings in the back of your head.
You disappeared, it distracted me.
You just wanted the glory for yourself.
Always being so perfect about everything, being everyone’s favorite, having everything come naturally to you.
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to see you right now.
Coming from Steph of all people, someone you’ve looked up to, pined after, tried to forge a friendship with, the words hurt. They leave you cold and numbed, a new weight in your chest that wasn’t there before the mission.
She’s always been the sun in your eyes, warm and scalding, bright and beautiful, painful to look at. You’ve always gravitated closer to her, done your best to accommodate her, and this is where you end up. With a bitter kiss and more distance between you than there was to start.
You blink the thoughts away, staring into the steam rising from your kettle on the stove. Your phone buzzes, an unfamiliar number popping up on your screen.
Hey, it’s Steph. Can we talk?
You pick up your phone, contemplating opening the message and answering, and yet you can’t. What do you even say to her right now?
You turn off your phone. Let her sit with it for a while.
A while turns into a week. A week of unanswered texts and calls, of attempts by Barbara and Tim and Cass to get the two of you to talk. You shirk your duties as Batgirl, spend as much time as you can locked away at home, far far away from your double life.
Still, Stephanie isn’t one to give up.
The knock at your door comes early in the morning, so early, it rouses you from your sleep. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up in bed, the pink hue of the rising sun greeting you.
Another knock at your door sends you stumbling down the hall, slippers barely on your feet. You squint through the peephole, stomach syncing when you see who it is.
Steph stands there, dressed in low rise jeans that suit her just a little too well and a baby tee. Her hair is still wet, curling slightly at the ends where it’s started to dry. She must have showered and ran over here right after patrol.
You sigh, turning away from the door, fully intent on ignoring her.
“I can hear you,” she calls.
You stop in your tracks.
“I know I screwed up,” she says, “please just hear me out.”
“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
“You know that’s not what I meant, I almost just died, c’mon.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. Deep down, you know she has a point. You almost wish she didn’t, if only so you could stop seeing it from her side.
Despite yourself, you turn around and unlock the door, inviting her in.
She looks sad, undereyes sallow like she hasn’t been sleeping properly. She steps on the backs of her shoes, peeling them off before falling you inside.
“Do you want something to drink?”
She shakes her head, blonde strands falling into her face. You settle in on the chair in your living room, Steph settling in on the far end of your couch—the distance between you hurts, but you’re not sure you could take it right now if she was sitting any closer.
“I’m sorry,” she starts.
You nod, tight lipped.
“About everything.”
Everything. She doesn’t say it outright, but you can hear what she hasn’t said: I’m sorry for kissing you.
“I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have said what I said, I was scared and-and frustrated, and I took it out on you and it wasn’t fair.”
You always take it out on me, you’re tempted to say. It lingers on your tongue like her lipgloss from the other night, heavy and toxic and yet filled with something sweet.
“It’s hard, you know?” Her voice cracks on the word, pretty eyes brimmed with tears, “I’ve been Batgirl a while. I-I fought to be Batgirl even when nobody wanted me to be.”
You remember Barbara telling you about that, heard whispers about it from Tim. It was strange to you, you couldn’t possibly imagine a world where Steph isn’t Batgirl. Someone as wonderful and capable as her.
“But then you show up and it’s like, what’s even special about me anymore? And you do everything so well, you’re so—so perfect all the damn time, and everyone loves you and it’s like…what’s even left for me?”
Tears brim at your lashes and Steph’s face drops. She frowns, reaching forward like she can stop them from coming. And then you’re laughing, the sweet feeling of relief flooding your chest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make yo—”
“Do you think I don’t feel that way?”
Her lips part, shock clear on her face. “No,” she mumbles out.
“Do you think I don’t find you perfect and capable and honestly, really fucking intimidating?” You shake your head, “you left some big shoes to fill, Stephanie and—and it hasn’t been easy.”
She laughs, equally as wet and filled with emotion as your own. “You really think so?”
You rise to your feet, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down next to her. She’s so close, you can smell her strawberry scented body wash and the vanilla lotion she put over top of it.
“Yes, god.” You giggle, and it tastes like relief, “I wish you would’ve just told me this before. We could’ve had this talk a long time ago.”
And she laughs with you, the sound like heaven and sunlight and everything you thought you could never reach, and her laugh makes you laugh more. You let your eyes flutter closed, leaning your head back on the couch, ribs starting to ache from the laughing you’re doing.
And then she’s cupping your face and kissing away the laughter, vanilla flavoured chapstick heavy on your tongue. She moves against you, body pressing to yours and pressing you further into the couch.
She pulls away, cheeks flushed. “Does this mean you forgive me?”
You press a hand on the small of her back, pulling her in again. “You might need to do that a few more times.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
Summary & CW: Fluff, friends w/ benefits, based on glue song by beabadobee, yearner wally
Pairing: Wally West x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 0.7k
A/N: Another piece out the Kiln! Thank you to the anon who requested this and for participating! I hope you all enjoy <3333
This is the best view he’s ever seen.
Wally West was one of the- if not the fastest man alive. He could be anywhere within seconds, allowing him access to the most breathtaking places on the planet.
But right here, with you passed out in his bed? He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more beautiful.
It was around two in the morning. Realistically, he should be asleep, there were a million things with his name on it once morning comes and you were going to leave early for work. There was just something about you that always enraptured him.
It was impossible for him not to be in a trance when he was around you. He couldn’t help it, he absorbed everything you did, everything you smiled at, everything that made your head tilt to the side.
He was obsessed.
Wally had never met anyone like you. No one laughed the same way you did, they always missed the way your left eye squinted more. No one gave him that look you always wore when he made a stupid joke, the smirk you tried to hide with a raised eyebrow. No one took up all his thoughts like you did, he couldn’t run past a cute animal without stopping to send you a picture.
It was simple.
He was in love with you.
There was no way around it. Despite how much he tried to hide it, he knew.
There was just one small problem.
You weren’t doing the “relationship thing” right now.
After too many shitty dates and even eviler exes, you swore off dating for the rest of the year. There was no hiding his relief when you decided on it. Every time you called him with some nightmare about your antichrist of the month, he bit his tongue till it bled.
And thanks to him, celibacy only lasted you about five weeks.
It was some Thursday night two months ago, you were hanging out on his couch playing Overcooked 2 together. Laughs were mixed in with cursing, orders were echoing off the walls in his crappy apartment. One thing led to another and Wally had saved this level by serving pizza with mere seconds to spare.
When you thanked him, a cheeky grin you knew all too well grew on his face. He tapped his cheek and gave you a, “don’t forget to kiss me.”
Deciding to one up him at his own game, you grabbed his face with your right hand and pressed your lips to his.
It was the most divine kiss Wally had ever blessed to receive. It’s safe to assume the game was forgotten for what remained of the night.
You both talked about it later, the possibility of being more one day. It just wasn’t in the cards right now considering the paths you were currently on. There were cities you wanted to live in, the career ladder you wanted climb, and Wally….
Well, he was saving the world.
He couldn’t promise you that he was going to come home every night. He couldn’t promise that he was always going to be safe. Hell, he couldn’t even promise that he’d always be on the planet.
So for now, this was enough.
Anything that involved, regarded, or even revolved around you was more than anything he could ever ask for. Even if you weren’t his completely, Wally couldn’t think of something he would trade this for.
To see you like this, it was everything. The moonlight bouncing off your back as his fingers traced ran up and down it. Your hair fanned out on the pillow as it caught the perfume you wore. It was almost funny how your limbs were spread all over the mattress. He was notably bigger than you, and yet you still managed to take up 75% of the bed. But he didn’t complain.
Wally would live the rest of his life on the edge of the bed if it meant he woke up tangled with you.
And as a promise to the night, right before he drifts off, he kisses you. Leaning over the mess of your arms, he drops a chaste kiss to the center of your back. A small shiver from you is the only indication that you may have felt it in your dreams.
“I love you.”
The words are breathed onto your spine like they’re tattooed on his.
Then, his head lands on his pillow, your perfume somehow traveled over to this one too. And the last sight he sees as cinnamon lulls him to bed, is the small smile you wore when you slept. That finally brings him enough peace to be dragged into slumber, preparing for another day with you.
𝜗ৎ helping you relax (nsfw) 𝜗ৎ you can’t give him hickeys 𝜗ৎ getting touchy with you 𝜗ৎ dating rumours with batsis!reader 𝜗ৎ using his powers with you (nsfw) 𝜗ৎ arriving home to you 𝜗ৎ talking about having a pet 𝜗ৎ can't keep his hands off you 𝜗ৎ kisses from wally 𝜗ৎ helping him out (nsfw) 𝜗ৎ helping you warm up 𝜗ৎ fwb!wally x batsis!reader 𝜗ৎ ragelovebaiting wally 𝜗ৎ popsicle date
︵ ೀ dick grayson ֹ ₊ ꒱
𝜗ৎ dating figure skater!reader part 2
︵ ೀ stephanie brown ֹ ₊ ꒱
𝜗ৎ letting her cut your bangs 𝜗ৎ make out session (nsfw)
His fingers curl inside you all the while he starts vibrating them. Your hips jerk, and a tiny whine leaves you. "wally," you breathe out.
"Hmm? Can your toy do that, baby?" he say's all smug. You'd called him complaining about how your vibrator had died. Naturally he sped over to yoour place instantly.
"wals, faster," you beg, even with his super speed you wanted more—needed it, needed him.
"greedy girl," he mutters and kisses both your cheeks. Then, the bastard leans back, fingers leaving you, your pussy clenching around nothing.
Your head falls back. "First my vibrator beytrays me, and now my boyfriend," you groan patheticly.
Wally tilts his head, his hands lingering at the waistline of his boxers. "I mean I was gonna give you something better but…
You perk up. "I love you." you pause. "alot." you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
"Love you too, babe," he mutters, leaning closer. He kisses you slowly before giving you what you've been waiting for.
masterlist
if your wondering why this is so badly written and short it’s cause i wrote this at a restaurant 💀and just posted it
YOU HAVE A DATE ˚. ᵎᵎ with cheerleader!koriand'r (,,>ヮ<,,)
Words from our Hostess: Congratulations! You've been selected for our Host Club. After reading your application, we decided that your best pairing for you might be Koriand'r. We created a possible scenario between the two of you
cheerleader!koriand'r x prom queen!reader ╱ she asks you to be her date for prom
art creds: zatabba on x
Even though you are in different friend groups, you know Kori. She’s the captain of the cheerleaders, you’ve been prom queen for the last two years. Oh, and you also make out every once in a while.
She has the most beautiful curly pink hair that you love to play with while your mouths are interlocked. Her skin is flawless and soft, perfect for you to caress when she leans for a kiss. And she has this habit of squeezing the soft flesh on your waist every time you make out, making your knees wobble and feeling extremely desired.
But again, she’s a cheerleader and you’re the prom queen. It doesn’t matter how in love you were with her, you know none of you will risk your status for this.
Then you saw her coming down the hall, curly hair bouncing softly around her shoulders, her cheer uniform hugging her in all the right ways. A couple of her teammates trailed behind, curious. Your own friends slowed their conversations, sensing something big was about to happen.
Kori stopped right in front of you, biting her lower lip in an adorable nervous way. “Hey… um, can we talk for a second?” she asked, her voice softer than usual but still warm.
You nodded, slipping your phone away. “Yeah, of course.”
She took a deep breath, twisting her fingers together. “Okay, so… I know we’ve been keeping things quiet between us. But I don’t want to hide anymore… not for this.” She paused, glancing around at the growing audience before locking eyes with you again. “Will you go to prom with me? Like, as my date? I can’t picture going with anyone else. It wouldn’t feel right.”
Her words hit you hard. She was really doing this right here, in front of everyone. Your heart pounded so loud you were sure she could hear it. A small smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer.
“Yes,” you said, not even needing to think about it. “Kori, I’d love to be your prom date.”
Relief washed over her face and she let out a little laugh. “Oh my god, really? I was so scared you’d say no or that it would be weird...”
You reached out and gently brushed a curl from her face, your fingers lingering on her soft cheek. “It’s not weird. It’s perfect. I’ve been hoping you’d ask.”
Her eyes softened, she squeezed your waist right then, her favorite little habit, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching. The touch sent warmth rushing through you, making your knees feel weak like always.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked, her breath brushing your lips. “Right here. I don’t care who sees anymore.”
You smiled, heart racing with pure joy. “Yes. Please.”
Kori didn’t hesitate. She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, soft at first but quickly growing more intense, letting all the pent-up feelings from every hidden make-out came rushing out. Her hands gripped your waist tighter, yYou kissed her back just as deeply, one hand sliding into her pink curls, the other resting on her cheek. It felt like fire and honey all at once.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you a little dizzy and smiling, she rested her forehead against yours. “I’ve been dying to do that in front of everyone,” she whispered. “You’re mine now. For prom… and hopefully way longer than that.”
summary: a moment of realization makes you distance yourself from roy, though your heart can't get rid of him that easily.
content: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, reader has a moment of epiphany that makes them go crazy, reader makes roy sad :( might be a bit bad sorry!!, ft. wally donna & dick!
wc: 2.7k
a/n: once again i am late. you guys are allowed to tickle me if you ever see me irl.
part one | part two | part three
You're the first person he searches for.
As he clashed the cymbals and beat his drums, his eyes dissected the entire crowd, landing and staying on the person he hoped with all his heart would come: you. His favourite person for the past few months, the person replacing all of the thoughts in his mind. And unfortunately, the person who's been ignoring him for a whole week.
Days had gone by with ignored text messages, with those texts varying from long, semi-emotional texts to short questions about your well-being. With each text that was ignored, his heart ached from worry and insecurity. Questions of your current well-being and his actions that could've caused this flooded his mind, adding to his growing worry.
Those thoughts led to one last text message he left last night. 'I hope you come to my gig.'
And there you were, standing in the far back, holding a cup of whatever while you watched him play. Your face was devoid of any expression, watching him with a blank stare and lips pressed into a tight line.
He didn't let it mess with his head. That night, he played better than he's ever played.
— ONE WEEK AGO.
"You look fine. Pretty, even." Roy chuckled, glancing at you as you checked your teeth for the umpteenth time in the vanity mirror. You were now aware of never asking Roy how you looked; he was always going to say you looked pretty. It was one of those sweet things that became annoying over time.
You swore you could still feel some remnants of the veggies you ate earlier lodged in the gaps of your teeth, hence why your finger was still nudged in your mouth, trying to find where the salad was, as it muffled your speech. "I cou hill heel ik!" You muffled, straightening your posture once again to look in the mirror.
A few moments later, you proved Roy wrong. There was, in fact, a small bit of salad stuck between your molars. Before leaving the car, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror. You were going to meet his friends today, and you were determined to impress them.
They were pretty popular on campus. A wallflower like you heard a few rumours here and there, but still knew well enough not to let those rumours cloud your judgement. After all, giving Roy a chance at that house party made him become your partner, your significant annoyance.
You walked into the bar with him, looking around to take in the atmosphere. It was probably a little fancier than the usual dive bars people you knew frequented. You wouldn't know — you've stepped into many taverns filled with pointy-eared humans and those with skin painted in bright greens or purples, but not actual bars that served alcoholic drinks. Mentally, you thank Roy for not making you remain a total dork.
"Theeerreee he is!" A voice boasted, lifting his arm to direct the two of you to a booth in the far end corner of the bar. He was another ginger, tall and a little bit lankier than Roy. His hair was curly, face peppered with visible freckles. You finally recognise him to be none other than Wally West.
Surprisingly, you've talked to Wally a few times before due to common interests. Hell, in freshman year, you hated him for stealing your spot in the college's e-sports team (which, to be frank, he earned fair and square.)
"Oh, hey!" He grinned, dabbing you up with so much energy you wondered if he had super speed. "Haven't talked to you in a while, dude." He said, throwing his arm around your shoulder to walk you closer to the gang.
"Wally, can you let them breathe first?" Says the only girl in the group, staring at him with the familiar look of siblingly annoyance. "Ignore him, he's just excited to have someone new on the table."
Donna, like Wally, was familiar to you, too. She was the first person most clubs scoured to hire whenever pictures needed to be taken. A semester ago, your D&D club booked her to be the photographer for your annual meeting. By some magic miracle, she managed to make your club look cool.
"Mhm." The guy next to her nods. You'd be living under a rock if you say you didn't know him. Dick Grayson was the campus heartthrob — you've seen him pretty much everywhere, with your favourite appearance of his being the one where his entire face was on a huge banner in front of the accounting faculty. He wasn't even learning accounting.
Roy eventually rolled his eyes, pulling you closer to him by the collar of your shirt. He took the chance to jest, accepting the risk of being punched in the arm. "Guys, chill. Please. This is their first time interacting with human beings."
Of course, you punched him in the arm. "Dick." You huffed, to which Dick Grayson says, "Me?"
Donna snorts. "Anyways, where the hell's Garth?"
"Swim meet. Didn't you read the group?" Wally answered, reaching out to steal another one of her fries.
The rest of the night went well — more than well, really. They had you caught up with their inside jokes, told funny stories they would never stop repeating to new people they meet, and even talked about letting you join their future meetups. Even though you still preferred being alone in your room, the fact that they thought of inviting you was nice.
The sound of a microphone's feedback makes you wince, ruining the comfortable atmosphere of the conversation. You turned around, seeing a girl on a stage with a TV above her head, displaying the lyrics to the song she was about to sing.
Roy had brought you to a karaoke bar.
When you turned to face him, you were met with a pout and pleading puppy eyes. "No," you said, immediately turning him down. "There's no way in hell am I going up there to sing, Harper."
A few moments later, you sat at the table, watching Roy belt out an old eighties love ballad, unable to hit a single note. He caressed the microphone stand, moving with nothing but unadulterated passion. For a second, his eyes found yours, flustering you before you looked away.
You weren't the only one to have noticed that. Beside you, Wally eyed you with a suggestive smirk. The redhead nudged Dick, "Think he's got anyone in mind, Dicky?"
"Oh, definitely." Dick laughed, also looking at you for a moment. The four friends broke into quiet laughter, sending suggestive looks your way, implying something you didn't know.
"Why the heck are you guys looking at me like that?" you asked, looking at them as you fidgeted with the edge of your cup.
Donna chuckled, answering with a sarcastic shrug. "Oh, I dunno, maybe the fact Roy's pretty much in love with you?"
That made your heart drop. Not in a good way. A dam in your head broke, flooding your head with thoughts that weakened your nervous system. Roy Harper. In love with you? You face the man on the stage again, watching him as he practically humps the microphone stand with how passionate he's singing. You suddenly felt physically sick, unable to process that statement even if they meant it as a joke.
Roy Harper, in love with you? The change of perspective felt too sudden. Your body went limp as if you'd been hit by a high-speed bullet train. The way you see everything he's done for you changes — from the Renaissance Faire to the dance in Ollie's kitchen.
To you, it was still ridiculous. It didn't make sense. The mere thought of him loving you more than a friend felt as impossible as the concept of time travel itself. The polaroid girl's face is etched in your mind, being the voiceless figure that reminds you to never fall for Roy Harper, because he doesn't go for geeks like you. You're not his type, and you never will be.
Yet… why does it make sense? That would be the answer to his kindness towards you, the reason behind why Roy would've pushed everything aside just to see a smile on your face, even if it was only for a second.
Common sense was pushed aside as the anxieties in your head grew stronger. It protected you as much as it harmed you. It reminded you to be aware of who you were, plaguing your thoughts with deeply rooted insecurity while simultaneously keeping you away from potential heartbreak. Deep in your bones, you felt insurmountable guilt for making Roy seem like he liked you.
Before you could even think, your legs walked you out of the bar.
— PRESENT DAY.
Roy wipes the sweat off his forehead, eyes squinting as he takes the handkerchief off his face, blinded by the bright spotlight shining on him. His gaze returns to the direction of the crowd, blinking the sunspots away for a few moments before seeing you again, still in the same position.
He reached down to grab his water bottle, taking a big gulp to moisturise his throat that dried at the sight of you. He hadn't practised what to say to you — he didn't even think you'd show up.
With a deep breath, Roy walked off the stage, pushing through the dense crowd with polite 'excuse me's. Once he was finally standing in front of you, everything seemed to be quiet. He couldn't hear the sound of the crowd, just his heart beating so hard and fast he was sure he could die of cardiac arrest right then and there.
"Hey," was the first thing he could think of. He stands motionless, his eyes looking at you with the now-familiar softness he's only used for you.
"Hi." You greeted, also not knowing what to say. Was 'Hey, my insecurities are rooted so deeply in my soul that I thought I was a terrible person for making people think we were dating. Sorry.' too straightforward? Probably.
"I'm really glad you came." He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I thought you weren't gonna show up."
"It was a last-minute decision." You replied truthfully, suddenly finding the floor to be an interesting sight.
Those words made his heart break a little. Even though you were standing here in front of him, it wasn't your initial choice. "Right," he forced a laugh to detensify the atmosphere, but nothing seemed to help. "Look, just… Let's cut to the chase and talk, can we?"
You've been dreading this. Since your arrival here was a spontaneous decision, you came unprepared, unsure of what to say to him. "Yeah. Sure. Outside?"
A tumbleweed rolls by the two of you as you stood outside the bar. Figuratively.
It's so silent you could hear each thump of your heart, thrashing against your ribcage as you waited for him to speak. Roy looks as unsure as you are, judging by his clammy hands and the way he was tapping his feet. After a full sixty-three seconds — yes, you were counting — you broke the silence. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
You should've known better; it was an extremely stupid thing to say to a man who's been suffering over the lack of your presence. Roy's mouth opens at first, but he's immediately at a loss for words. For the first time in your friendship with him, he's letting himself be angry at you. "Are you kidding me?" he sighed, crossing his arms. "Is there anything for us to talk about except for the fact you've ghosted me for an entire week?"
Embarrassment renders you unable to speak.
Roy continues, doing all he can to hold back his anger and think clearly for you. "We do everything together. Everything." He bit his lip, finding his words, "I just want to know what made you stop wanting that."
Your reaction was immediate. You finally face him, using up all your willpower to look into his eyes. "No, Roy… I want that. I do, it's just—"
"Just what? What the hell happened to you that made you stop answering all my texts? If it's me, then just tell me—"
"It's not you!" You answered, rubbing your face in frustration. "And nothing happened..."
"So tell me. Tell me why I've been ignored this entire week by the only person I care about on this stupid campus." Those words came out before he could even reconsider them, but he didn't care. For you to know just how bad your absence had affected him, you needed to know the truth.
You couldn't answer that. At least, not in a way that wouldn't have hurt him. "I… I guess I wanted you to spend less time with someone like me?"
His expression doesn't seem to change. He's still looking at you with narrowed eyes and a gaze so charged with anger it burned on your skin. "Someone like you?"
"Y'know, me. A total geek everyone laughs at? Someone who can't dress even if their life depended on it? Someone who's the literal opposite of cool?"
His look softens. It doesn't turn sympathetic — the anger remained, but there was slightly less than before. "So what, just because you feel insecure, you'd throw away everything we had? You're really gonna let your head win?" He asked, not really expecting you to answer. "I get self-sabotaging, I really do. But are you not even gonna try to fight it? For us? For me? For your own, self-proclaimed loser self?"
You slumped against the nearby wall of the building, closing your eyes. "Guess I wasn't."
He scoffed, leaning next to you. "Y'know, D&D weekends and ren faires don't make you a loser. Quitting does." He stated, uncrossing his arms. "You know I don't care, right? I genuinely don't give a single flying fuck about what people think of me. If I woke up tomorrow to people throwing tomatoes at me just because I hang out with you, I wouldn't care. You mean more to me than that."
As your eyes remained closed during the onslaught of emotions you felt at the moment, you felt the ghost of his hand next to yours. Slowly, his fingers laced with yours, holding your hand firmly — his way of saying he wasn't going to let go. "I'll hold onto you. I'm not gonna let you run away and actually become a loser who quits."
You kick his leg. He smiles.
"There you are." He hummed, pulling you closer by your intertwined hands. "My favourite person to bother."
You couldn't help but let the smile force its way on your face. Roy Harper was the only person who could ever successfully crumble down the walls you've built around yourself. It's been that way since he first met you at the house party that seemed so long ago now.
"You're the coolest person I know, y'know that?"
"Roy—'"
"You are. I love it when you talk about your campaigns or your favorite supervillains. It's cool." he murmured, those words reserved just for you. "And I think your geeky shirts are cool too. They're vintage. They suit you well."
Seeing the way you were reluctantly taking in those words, he considered his mission of convincing you to have some self confidence a success. "C'mon," he smiled, tugging you inside the building. "You need some music in your veins."
Another band had taken over the stage, playing a punky rendition of a twenty-tens love song you've heard on the radio a long time ago. In the warm, low lights of the bar, you let your eyes wander around his face. You find a few things you didn't initially notice, like the small scar on his right cheek or the small mole under his jaw, hidden in the subtle dust of orange stubble.
Rather than halting your thoughts before they had the chance to become less than platonic, you let them happen. You let yourself blush when he turns to smile at you. You let your heartstrings tug when he puts his arm around your shoulder, needing you closer.
That night, you let yourself fall for him, without thinking about yourself or the polaroid left forgotten in his car.
extra scene:
You and Roy were holding separate microphones, waiting for the lyrics to kick in. The smirk remained on his face, even when you gave him a death glare. You would've killed him if your body wasn't incapacitated by terrible stage fright.
"You areee… my fiiiireee…" He started, lips way too close to the microphone. It was unhygienic, but there wasn't much you could do when it came to Roy Harper.
"The one, deeesiiiireee…" You continued, stiff as a pole, as your eyes darted aroundthe crowd, trying your best to ignore Donna's phone trained on you and Roy.
Roy turns to you, far too excited to be singing Backstreet Boys. It was to a point where he had you genuinely wonder if he was drunk. "Believe, when I say…"
In tandem, the two of you sang. "I waaant it thaaat way."
likes & reblogs appreciated !!
stars by @/pixopix, drumsticks by @/mouseygraphics
wally watched attentively how your lips pressed to the base of the stick and sucked on it just once before sliding your mouth all the way up with a loud “slurp” sound, gathering some spit around the edges on your way. your lips locked around the tip and then you sucked as much of its length as physically fit into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing once you pulled it back out.
he really wished he could switch places with that popsicle right now.
he was sure eating ice cream never looked this erotic before, you probably didn’t even need to be doing all that. your lips were swollen, looking shiny, bright red from the direct contact to the cold and the artificial colouring of the popsicle. the image made his mind go to places that made his own cheeks colour red, hopefully you’d think it’s just the hot weather.
“baby?” he called you in his best attempt to sound composed.
“hm?” you hummed in acknowledgement —your mouth already preoccupied to reply with words—, but wally was too distracted to go on, his gaze focused on the spot where your lips met the popsicle. they now sucked repeatedly on a same spot and he could picture your tongue swirling around the tip inside your mouth, which immediately stuck out to lick a long stripe from bottom to top. he swallowed hard.
“what’s that look for?” your brows furrowed the moment you noticed his weird expression, how he stared directly at your ice cream. “i’m not sharing my popsicle with you, you literally devoured yours in a second.”
he finally glanced up to your eyes, but that strange look he was giving you persisted. “can i go next?”
My mom managed to dig up some old teen titans comics from when she was a kid. They were printed in black and white (I'm assuming to save money) but she had coloured in the characters herself in a couple of places which is really cute 😭❤️
-> fem! reader, unprotected sex + creampie, jealousy
One thing to know before dating Wally is that he’s possessive. You’re his, and only his, and he’ll make sure you know it.
He plays it off casually in front of friends but it’s not long before he’s dragging you away for a quickie, pulling down your pants or lifting up your skirt and fucking you against the wall.
“Fuck, baby,” he’ll groan in your ear, a finger rubbing your clit, “whose pussy is this?”
You fight through the shaking in your voice and the ache in your pussy to mumble out a pathetic, “yours, Wally.”
But the best part for Wally comes after that. It comes when he slams his hips flush against yours and buries his face in your neck, stuttering as he cums deep inside of you. He’ll hold you tight until he’s drained every last drop inside of you, biting at your neck.
He pulls out after, quickly tugging up your panties before any of his cum leaks out. You turn to face him, Wally pulling you in for a deep kiss.
“There,” he pats your pussy gently, a sheepish smile on his face. “All mine.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
roy harper x fem!reader, smut? guys idk what this is, i had a vision last night and wrote it all in 10 mins
Sharing a bed with Roy Harper is hell. He’s two hundred pounds of pure muscle laying beside you, making it impossible to escape his warmth.
You shouldn’t be sharing a bed with him, and you definitely shouldn’t be letting your fingers slip beneath your panties while imagining him pressing you against the wall, your back against his bare chest as he whispers filthy things in that husky voice.
A tiny whine slips out of you. It's a traitorous little sound that makes your eyes fly open.
“Dude," Roy's voice is low and hushed, but his amusement is clear when you feel his gaze on you.
You squeeze your eyes shut. Embarrassment floods hot over your skin, tangled up with frustration. Your breaths come out uneven and heavy. You don’t turn to look at him.
“Go to sleep,” you grit out, wanting to cry from the mess of emotions swirling inside you.
He snorts. “Hell no.”
The bed dips under his weight as he scoots closer. The room’s dark enough that you can barely make out his face, but you can still see that infuriating grin tugging at his mouth, like he’s proud of himself.
“This all for me?” he asks, wrapping a hand around your wrist where your fingers still are.
“I—no. Course not,” you mutter weakly.
He hums. Then he pulls your fingers into his mouth and sucks.
He moans, shamelessly. “Taste so fucking good, baby.” His eyes are glued to yours, his tongue drags along your fingers.
He doesn’t look away from you once.
“Roy,” you breathe out shakily, throat dry and lips parted.
“Lemme help, doll.” He lets your hand go and shifts until he’s hovering over you, one hand brushing along your side, his eyes carrying that dangerous glint that always manages to turn you on.
“Yeah, sure,” you mumble casually, trying to stay composed, though the act doesn’t last long.
wally watched attentively how your lips pressed to the base of the stick and sucked on it just once before sliding your mouth all the way up with a loud “slurp” sound, gathering some spit around the edges on your way. your lips locked around the tip and then you sucked as much of its length as physically fit into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing once you pulled it back out.
he really wished he could switch places with that popsicle right now.
he was sure eating ice cream never looked this erotic before, you probably didn’t even need to be doing all that. your lips were swollen, looking shiny, bright red from the direct contact to the cold and the artificial colouring of the popsicle. the image made his mind go to places that made his own cheeks colour red, hopefully you’d think it’s just the hot weather.
“baby?” he called you in his best attempt to sound composed.
“hm?” you hummed in acknowledgement —your mouth already preoccupied to reply with words—, but wally was too distracted to go on, his gaze focused on the spot where your lips met the popsicle. they now sucked repeatedly on a same spot and he could picture your tongue swirling around the tip inside your mouth, which immediately stuck out to lick a long stripe from bottom to top. he swallowed hard.
“what’s that look for?” your brows furrowed the moment you noticed his weird expression, how he stared directly at your ice cream. “i’m not sharing my popsicle with you, you literally devoured yours in a second.”
he finally glanced up to your eyes, but that strange look he was giving you persisted. “can i go next?”
not sure this counts as smut?? but very explicit (mdni)
steph held you tightly against her, keeping you as close as possible while her tongue slid against yours. you sat on her lap, cheeks burning, her lipgloss smeared all over your face and her hands very intently exploring your body, bottle of wine long forgotten on the living room table. it wasn’t really an exceptional occurrence, a few glasses in and you suddenly couldn’t keep your hands off each other, that’s how it always went, but she’d never mention any of it to you the next day, as if nothing had happened at all, or as if it was a completely regular activity to be doing with your best friend.
she kissed you hard, getting sloppier as the minutes went by. you were both long out of breath but you just couldn’t keep away from each other, every once in a while parting for just a few seconds, panting against each other’s lips, before diving back in.
your hips occasionally rocked against hers and she groped your ass to keep you pressed closer to her, despite the layers of fabric between you two. you moaned into her mouth and she let out a pleased hum at your reaction. you were desperate for more friction, wishing there were no clothes keeping you apart. it was all you’d been thinking about for the last few minutes, to be able to feel her skin to skin, finally ridding of all garments to have her clit rubbing against yours and her folds sliding in between your own. just the thought made that knot you were feeling deep in your core tighten, heat pooling low in your belly, but that would be weird, she was still your friend.
you arched your back in an attempt to get a better angle, hoping to get off from this alone, but a sigh of pleasure left your lips as you felt steph’s chest pressing harder against yours. you loved the feeling of her boobs on yours, and, as your arms tightened around her neck to keep her even closer, you were once again hoping you’d just ditch the clothes.
steph’s hand moved up your waist and immediately snaked underneath your shirt, as if she’d just read your mind. her warm fingers slowly traveled up your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their way, before they landed on your breast. she squeezed once and you bit her lip in response, before quickly separating from her to finally remove your top, and the look she gave you once she could finally see you properly did nothing to help the aching sensation on your clit.
she hesitated a moment before grabbing your tits in her hands, squeezing and kneading the plush skin, experimentally flicking your nipples with her thumbs, but as much as you loved her hands felt on you, you were desperate for something else. suddenly feeling bold, your hands moved to pull at the neckline of her tank top to finally free her boobs and your mouth practically watered, the sight alone once again sending that familiar tingling sensation to your core. she wasn’t wearing a bra, she usually didn’t, leaving you a better access in this occasion.
you loved stephanie’s boobs. you’d seen them before, not necessarily in a sexual context, she just didn’t mind being topless or changing clothes in front of you, but you’d never allowed yourself to actually look, since you weren’t a creep, and now that you finally had them in front of you all you wanted to do was bury your face between them and stay there forever. you squeezed them together using both of your hands, while steph expectantly watched the mesmerized look you were giving her, and you finally allowed yourself to dive into them, getting just a taste of the feeling of your best friends tits pressed against your face before sliding your tongue to her nipple, swirling around it just once to then suck on it. you’d do this for your own pleasure only, but the pretty sound you heard escaping from steph’s lips made the experience much more fulfilling. you spent a few more seconds latched onto her before letting go with a wet ‘pop’ and kissing your way back up to her lips, resuming the heated kiss you were sharing.
your chest pressed against hers once again, this once with no clothing barrier between the two of you. your breasts were squeezed flat against hers, and the feeling of her nipples sliding with yours with every heave of your chests, now wet from your own saliva, was so much better than whatever you’d imagined before. you felt like a perv for wishing you could ride those boobs, getting wetter only by the mental image of those peaks dragging on your clit with every grind of your hips on her chest, but maybe it was stephanie’s fault for starting this in the first place. you were just hoping she’d stop playing with you someday.
ive never been madder at myself for setting myself up with a s f w blog than right now bc JESUS fucking christ. steph pls. one chance. one chance. steph. steph please-
your writing is so so so good that gave me a category 6 gay moment
omg TYSMM<33 hehe im glad it could Spark those feelings in you lmao
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