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kim ✶ 26 ✶ dc side blog no requests atm MASTERLIST

[skeeets]

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ᯓ★ kim

ᯓ★ 26

ᯓ★ she/her

ᯓ★ medical student

ᯓ★ dusting off the keyboard to write after a 10 yr hiatus

ᯓ★ no requests yet, i am busy with school and just writing for fun!

ᯓ★ main blog @cpu-wife

ᯓ★ masterlist

· · ────────────────── ·𖥸· ───────────────── · ·

[pizzapartyplayhouse]

JL fic writers: aw man i need a good excuse for these characters to get up to some gay shit

Monitor Duty:

[skeeets]

I think about this post maybe 3x a week and laugh to myself in the car

[bluejues]

tfw you crawl out of your grave and get dunked in a vat of nickelodeon slime by your dad’s situationship

[lushberrys]

ohhh if this isn't wally west coded as fuck

[skeeets]

psst.... tomorrow is @twentytomidnight birthday and they're 5 followers away from 1K ... do with that what you will

[pizzapartyplayhouse]

booster doodles

[twentytomidnight]

which one us is the best kisser?

Hal Jordan/Kyle Rayner/John Stewart/Guy Gardner/Reader, 3.3K

a/n: I turned someone’s request into my own perverted fantasy I’m not sorry

cw: nsfw/18+ only, makeouts, grinding, thigh-riding, drinking/drunken shenanigans, gn!reader

masterlist ao3 requests

PREVIEW:

Hal asks a question that everyone is very interested in you testing out. Honor Guard/Reader (18+)

It’s Hal who’s the one who suggests it, and it should be understood that that’s where the trouble arises. The five of you occupy a space of physical malaise after a long shift, all having shucked out your uniforms for what qualifies as clean, casual civvies.

You’re all in John’s quarters—they’re the biggest, and they’re the cleanest—so the five of you sit around his couch and enjoy the ambience of the TV show that no one is really watching. Nurse drinks that the five of you are wont to take ambling sip from as you talk shit and make plans for when you all return back to Earth.

“You still seein’ that one what’s-his-face back in Coast City?” Guy asks as he permits himself a heady swallow from the neck of the bottle. His broad fingers hold the drink so casually as amber liquid sloshes chaotically within—the cant of his eyes pressed upon you for an answer.

To the side of you, John and Kyle work on a blueprint for something that they’re going to build when they get back home, Hal watches with the quiet interest of the layperson.

“Nah, I dumped him before I left,” You reply as you take a sip from the Old Fashioned that John made you—neat, just how you like it. You take a brooding sip over the rim and let the scald settle on the palate of your tongue.

Guy laughs, crude and layered with interest; you look at him with the good-natured patience that you’re used to having to deal with. Not that you mind—he looks good when he laughs, the way that those freckles perch on the bridge of that nose broken once-too-many-times, that flex of his impressive bicep loped over the side of the couch you both recline on.

“Whassa problem with ol’ Coastie?” Guy asks with a leer that he fixates upon you. “Not good in the sack?”

“We didn’t even get to that,” You grimace back at Guy. “He was a bad kisser.”

Guy snorts in amusement as the other three behind you go still, distracted from the peaceful tedium of their activity. Not that you notice—you’re too busy still engaged in conversation with your couch partner.

“Oh, yeah?” Guy asks, settling more into the couch as he watches you carefully. “What’d he do, slobber all over you?”

“Would’ve like a little bit,” You return with honesty borne of alcoholic consumption—Guy snorts again—“—He barely would give me a peck. Wouldn’t even try to use any tongue.”

“Not everyone’s a talent like yours truly,” Guy returns with the smug bearings of someone who know what he’s talking about—you slap the ridge of your knuckles on the muscle of his arm as he takes it on the chin.

“Like you’ve kissed someone in a while?” You ask dryly, taking a brief respite to water yourself with the acrid burn of your drink. “Unless you and Kilowog got back together?”

“Ol’ Kil wishes he could have me back,” Guy plays along with a smirk, “But besides—”

He leans into you with friendly, conspiratorial manner, so that you can get ample whiff of the cologne layered over masculine, heady musk—“—It’s like riding a bike. You never lose the skills you pick up along the way.”

At this, you can’t help but let your head loll back and make a boozy laugh—Guy’s no worse for wear at this, leaning back with satisfaction on the landscape of where he sits, taking another swallow.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, inspecting the liquid that takes dwindling occupation in your highball. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Why don’t you put it to the test?” Interrupts a voice from behind you and Guy. At this, two of you look to the interloper in your conversation to see that there’s a new presence that has since joined the territory of the couch.

Hal sits besides you as he lets his beer hang lazily from the languid grip he holds on it, lets it settle on the curve of his knee, beer growing ample sudsy foam within.

There’s something layered in the arc of his expression as he watches you, gauging you for something that he’s hungry to confirm. Interest, you realize—in whatever he’s about to propose.

This is when you realize that the two of you have had audience to your conversation as you see how John and Kyle stand at attention in nearer distance than they had before—and something profoundly electric begins to take center-stage in the room.

You remember that you have to speak, and turn back to Hal, who still watches you with patient intent. “How?”

“You say you haven’t been kissed in a while,” Hal asserts, holding out a hand, “Kissed well.”

“So it goes,” You reply back calmly as you take another sip. You feel like you’re going to need to drain the drink to hear him out.

“We know you pretty well—we’ve all worked together, know the ins and outs,” Hal continues along as though he’s casually proposing a business closer, “So we know what you like.”

“Mm-hmm,” Is all that you can think to supply in response as you pluck the orange rind from the watery grave its taken residence in. Hal takes this as permission for him to levy his challenge your way.

“So why don’t you see which one of us is the best kisser?” Hal asks. And it’s here that you feel that odd prickle of sensation, that dearth of heat that was so absent suddenly rekindle to life in the pit of your abdomen, in between your legs.

"You mean you actually want to kiss me?” You ask, letting your eyes drape over the very articulated interest in the ken of everyone’s faces, realizing that this is something that they’ve all come to silent agreement in.

“Why not?” Hal asks, and there’s something that’s so velvet yet rugged in the directive of his voice. “Haven’t you been curious?”

As he says this, you can’t help let your eyes drag involuntarily to the full-bodied lips that are already pulling into a knowing smirk. Let your eyes drag up in slow, meandering fashion to the way that his eyes are alight with a wicked kind of mischief that you’re interested to see how he articulates with his body.

“Okay,” You say, holding your drink out behind you to where you assume Guy will cover for it, “I’m game.”

“Not gonna be a drop when you get it back,” Guy warns as he accepts the cup in the swathe of one hand—the rough pad of his thumb draws against your finger. You know that if you turn back to regard him, to look at John and Kyle who are murmuring something in each other’s ears in your periphery, then you’ll lose your nerve for certain.

All you can do is find your way over to where you are inching closer yet to the spread of Hal’s legs. He lets them tick wider at your approach, lets that smile show a little more in dazzling display.

You know that that smile’s been enough to encourage people into bed—and here you are, drawn by invisible tether to approach it.

You let your thigh drag against the denim of his pants, let your arm settle against the press of his torso so that you can feel the delineation of muscle that his loose shirt does little to disguise. Feel the scalding heat of his body against yours, second to the cant of his eyes as he appraises you and the detail of your face.

“Hey, angel,” Hal chuckles in soft intonation—the press of his thumb as it draws your chin up to him leaves such tactile sensation that you have to physically resist the shiver. As it presses against the bottom of your lip an you have to intake silent, regulatory breath.

“Hurry up and kiss ‘em already, Jordan,” Guy comments from the back. “You got a lot of people in line.”

Hal chuckles as you try to bite back the anxious smile taking presence on your face. You want to feel his mouth, feel his tongue. Feel more than just his hand that is taking encouraging hold on the cliff of your jaw.

“Gotta make sure they remember it,” Hal says, “Don’t want to disappoint.”

The syllables are spoken on the full of your mouth as he draws in, as he makes chaste, introductory connection with the seam of his lips—and then he closes the distance fully. Lets it linger, the nuance of his mouth adjusting to the shape of yours before you feel the lap of a tongue that requests the taste of yours.

When you open your mouth to him, you’re surprised by the moan that you make as he rakes his hand up the nape of your neck, summoning a shiver that he swallows with a needy groan.

Another hand takes residence on the slope of your face, letting him deepen the kiss, adjust angle so that he can properly appraise the back of your teeth, let you savor the IPA that he drank.

Hal hums into your mouth, a noise of savoring, of pleasure—and you can’t help but make vocal chord in kind. He’s good at this—a slow, soporific sensation is taking root over your body, under the sinew of your skin.

When you pull away, it’s with the sluggish regret of someone who wishes that they could have more. And it’s clear in his eyes that his thirst is little slaked by this at all.

“Like that?” Hal asks with that charming grin that you’ve seen before—just never exercised on you. You can’t deny the way that it makes your heart flip in the caging of your ribs.

“Not bad,” You comment back—he chuckles at your deflection, knowing the effect that it’s had on you. “But I have three more people I need to try out.”

At this, you find your footing, realizing at this belated instance that you’ve had your hand drawn over the slope of Hal’s shoulder. When you slide it from the press of that coiled muscle, he watches it go with a melancholy longing that you want to revisit.

But first—you settle on your next target, who leans on the counter with a knowing smile, his beer sitting besides the crook of his elbow. Watching you with that handsome face and those brown eyes set in such incandescent illumination that he looks heavenly in your approach.

“Hi, John,” You grin as you pull up in front of him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I could say the same for you,” He says as you lick your lips—and as his eyes commemorate the sight to memory, “How’d we end up with a bunch of fools on our team?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” You grin as you worry your fingers around the width of your wrist, “But sometimes they have some good ideas.”

“Yeah, I’ll give them that,” John says in quiet deliberation; and at this declaration, his hand draws up the side of your cheek, replacing the tactile afterimage that Hal’s left behind. You surprise yourself when you find yourself leaning into the comfort of his touch, your hands already draping up the firm plateau of his chest.

“Ready?” John asks with a crooked grin that suits him so well—you can’t help but feel at ease as his other hand wraps in secure fashion around your back, settling well in the sloping groove of your body.

“Hurry up and kiss me, Stewart,” You chuckle. When he obliges, you’re surprised by the soft quality of his lips, the way that he keeps the pressure slow-blooming and consistent as he works his mouth against yours.

He’s not like Hal, who proceeded with quick alacrity into your mouth—he keeps the flex of his jaw to keep pressing kiss after kiss against the terrain of your lips.

It’s a gradual crescendo of intensity, the way that you find your hands roaming the musculature of his body, as he pulls you flush against him. As your mouth works in tandem with his to allow him in, to finally press the flat of your soft palate against his—it’s a reward that you’ve worked to.

A taste of orange peel and whiskey that leave you starved for more as he makes reticent groan into the landscape of your tongue. And your hands clench tighter into his shirt, needing more of him under your hands, more of his drunken kisses, more of him—

You suck in a tight breath as you refuse to pull away from him, his leg sliding in between yours so that you can properly find some modicum of relief, grinding on the unyielding column of his thigh.

In your vague periphery, you’re aware of Kyle saying “Oh, fuck,” in abject want, while Guy makes dirty, throaty chuckle from the far distance.

You only pull away because you know that there’s two more to go. And it’s clear that John is reluctant to let you go, something drawn in the slant of his eyes as he evaluates you in new light.

No—that’s not quite correct. In light that you realize with delayed comprehension, that he always has. But now has finally had opportunity to act upon it.

“Wow,” You breathe with a chuffed laugh that he makes in parallel; his hands don’t move from where he’s secured you to him.

“I’ll say.” He returns, the rumble of his voice going to all the right avenues of your body.

“I got to see a few more people,” You say back with shy reticence, “But my verdict might be changing.”

“Yeah?” John asks as he lets his hands finally release you from the meter of his grasp. It’s clear that it’s an unwilling action. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Me, too,” You smile—and then you make advance to your third target for the night, who apparently has made conclusion of his drink in the moments of your previous departure. Who looks both nervous and flushed and bearing an excitement he can scarcely contain in the real estate of his body.

“Evening, Kyle,” You comment breezily as you find yourself face-to-face with him, “Is that a beer in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

“Can’t it be both?” Kyle asks, but there’s a definitive creep of a blush that is taking spread over his cheeks, dousing the tips of his ears, blooming down the column of his throat.

“Sure it can,” You reply with ease. “Are you gonna kiss me, or not?”

“Gladly,” Kyle says, and you go into arms that are already ticking out to accept you. It goes without saying that you can feel the hum of nervous energy that he articulates with his body as he looks down at you, makes thick, regulatory swallow.

His hands are so warm and sport a tremble that you won’t make mention of, something boyish and shy in the way that he looks to your eyes—before glancing down to your mouth curved in salacious smile.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Kyle groans in half-uttered confession. When he leans in to kiss you, it’s with such quick, consumptive motion that he’s eager to close—and he’s quick to get to work.

He kisses you with a potent need that is articulated through the spread of his arms as he pulls you tight to him. Your fingers rake through his hair as you open your mouth to him, letting you savor the moan that is made as you pull him closer.

This spurs on a bout of courage that he was perhaps too nervous to make, his hands finally drawing down the slope of your waist and squeezing.

You make a noise caught between pleasure and surprise, which allows your mouth to draw further open—Kyle, seeing his advantage, takes the chance to draw it into the wet heat of his own. And when he sucks on it, you can’t help but groan into it, letting your grip grow tighter upon him, prompting his own to draw greedier, hungrier.

“Givin’ you a run for yer money,” You hear Guy direct in the background to someone—but you don’t care. You and Kyle are in an oasis of your own making, as you catch his bottom lip between your teeth and lave your tongue upon it. The sound that Kyle makes is punched-out and obscene.

You know that you have one left—so you pull away to regard your latest dance partner. See something glassy-eyed and wanting in the arc of his gaze as he devours what is left to him visually.

“Not bad, Rayner,” You smile cheekily at him, admiring the flustered mien that this inspires in him. As his face draws deeper pink and his eyes run askance of you in such uncharacteristic shyness.

“Same to you,” He grins, and you can’t help but resist the urge to press one final lingering kiss to his mouth that he returns with mirrored eagerness. And then you’re off to your final foe for the night.

“Had to save the best for last, huh, honey?” Guy asks with such self-satisfied glee as you return back to the couch. You can’t help but feel your grin exhibit teeth in response to the challenge that he levies with the proud spread of his body, the wide meander of his arms lounging about the back of the couch.

“Had to come back for my drink,” You reply casually, “And take a seat.”

“Yeah?” Guy taunts. “I gotcher seat right here.”

With this, he claps a hand to the musculature of that thigh housed in his starched jeans. And you, never being one to sacrifice a game offer, find yourself climbing on, your legs spread over the terrain of his. He jumps his thigh unexpectedly, so that you’re made to hold on to his shoulders for balance that is more unmoored the longer this night goes on.

“Dick,” You groan back without any heat—he laughs as he works his hand around the curve of your hip, keeping you steady. It’s a slick, sordid laugh, but you can’t help but accept it.

“Saved some’a that drink for you, too,” He grins as you adjust yourself on his legs, feeling the interest that has already awakened to life in this passion play, “Just lemme know when you want it.”

At this, he lets you take visual assessment of his tongue, luridly pink, for the taking. And you know an opportunity when you see one—so you close in.

When you lick the rasp of your muscle against his own, you can feel the rumble of amusement more than you can hear it. But you’re not done—you take care to make sure that you get your money’s worth of whiskey consumed, sucking it from the marrow of his soft palate.

Letting his hands ease down in roaming navigation to the cleft of your ass so that he can squeeze.

When you whimper at the touch, the odds are back in his favor—and so he takes advance into your mouth, his teeth clacking against yours. His lips chapped and rough but only making you want more of that terrible scrape against you, want more of that smart mouth.

He chuckles at the way that you melt against him, letting your body conform in perfect unity to his, your arms easing around the toned expanse of his shoulders. But he doesn’t stop; only taking more opportunity to explore your teeth, your tongue, your lips.

You only break the kiss because you’re dizzy, overwhelmed with maelstrom of fractaled stimulation—of bodies that have searched for yours with a starvation you didn’t expect, of hands that still hold you. Of eyes that are all keen to watch the display of you exchanged between them.

“Well, sweetheart?” Guy asks with a salacious grin, admiring his handiwork at reducing you to such disheveled state. “Who’s your choice?”

At this, he grinds his hips into you in torturous rut. And you know that the five of you are going to break John’s bed-frame tonight. Oddly enough—you get the feeling he won’t mind at all.

banner and divider made by me :)

request:

sorry……..hope this kinda answers it lol

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join the taglist here!

[skeeets]

[twentytomidnight]

the way I would give that ginger the business so hard his bowlcut would twirl around and he would lose whatever melanin remained as I treated him like the thoroughbred horse that he is and handled him within an inch of pasty white life

pic not related

[skeeets]

you give him the grip so good all of his hair falls out like one of those playdough toys

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Positions

Dick grayson x fem!Reader

summary: Dick eating you out while he’s doing a handstand.

warning: MDNI 18+, oral sex (fem!receives), french kissing

A/N: Don’t even ask how I came up with this…

Dick had that look again. That infuriating, lopsided grin that always meant he thought he’d already won. He leaned casually against the kitchen island, arms folded, watching you with the kind of confidence only he could wear without looking arrogant. 

“What?” he asked, catching the way you were staring. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

“Maybe I am,” you replied, unable to hide your smile. “You always go on about how flexible you are, how you can balance anywhere, do just about anything.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “So prove it.”

His eyebrows lifted, curiosity flashing across his face before his grin widened into something undeniably mischievous. 

“Oh?” he laughed, taking a slow step closer. “I didn’t realize that was where your mind was headed.” 

His voice dipped just enough to make your stomach flutter as he searched your expression for any hint of hesitation. 

“Careful,” he murmured with amusement in his eyes. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to start wondering what, exactly, you have planned…”

“Wanna take a guess?” you ask him teasingly.

Dick lets out a low groan before he picks you up, and his hands are resting on your ass. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist, and crash his lips against yours. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, silently begging you to open your mouth, and you do. It was a sweet, almost hesitant collision that instantly turned desperate. You exhaled a shaky breath, your tongue tangling with his as the taste of his mouth consumed your senses. 

His hands that were resting on your ass were giving you slight squeezes. You let out a soft, involuntary moan into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

“Fuck baby. I want to hear you make that sound again.” He muttered, sounding almost desperate, and started kissing you again. 

He was walking you both towards the living room, where he had enough room to do what had been in your mind. And fuck, he was so excited to go down on you. 

He slowly lays you down on the cold floor without interrupting the kiss. His hands work on removing the boxers, his boxers, that was separating him from your sweet cunt. With a swift motion, they were off of you and he threw them somewhere behind him. He could care less where they landed, all he can think about is having a taste of your pussy. 

He broke from the kiss, and you could see a smug twitch at the corner of his mouth. He parted your legs far apart, and the sight alone was to die for. 

“Look at me while I do this to you.” He said before standing up. 

Swinging a leg back, he pushed off the floor, sending his feet up in the air. Now that he was in a handstand, he turned around using his head so that his face was now facing your exposed and now wet pussy. Without struggling, he put his left hand on the floor next to your hips, before doing the same thing with his right hand. 

“Don’t you dare move, yeah baby?” and you nodded in response.

He slightly pushed himself down until his mouth was just inches away from you. 

Before he started on working his mouth against you, he gave your pussy a little kiss at which you let out a silent cry. Your whole body was begging him to just eat you out.

He started with gentle licks before he starts making out with your sweet cunt.

“Fuuuck.” You moan as your hips press deeper into his face. 

His tongue started working faster, and with increasing pressure. His mouth engulfed your pussy, and his tongue was swirling against your sweet spot. You were digging your nails into your own palm because you didn’t want to disturb his balance while he was overly focused on keeping his balance while also focusing on eating you out. Because fuck, he felt how his arms were threatening on giving up on him. 

Dick bites back a moan as he hears the sweet noises that leave your pretty lips. As Dick continues playing with the inner side of your vulva, you couldn’t help but ache your back off of the floor with closed eyes.

Dick Grayson was truly an eater. The way his mouth moves is really a wonder. The way he makes out, and eats your pussy with so much need and desperation. Fuck, this is all that you can focus on right now. 

“Such a pretty mess.” Dick said in between before he continued where he left off. A quiet whimper leaves his lips as soon as his lips are on you again. The sweet taste of yours is sending a shiver down his spine, and he felt his one arm go weak before he caught himself. Still, he continues eating like a man starving.

“Dick, fuck, fuckfuckfuck. I’m about to cum.” You cried out as you felt a tight knot form in your lower stomach. “Don’t stop, just like that– Oh fuck, yes.”

“Look at me while you cum.” Dick purred and his breath hitched a second later. 

You tilt your head up and look at him. His face was turning red,  the veins were visible on his neck, and all you could see was how his lips were moving on your cunt. 

A tremor shot straight through your spine while crying out his name into the quiet room. 

“I want every drop.” Dick said as he started to swallow the juice that left your cunt. The taste felt intoxicating and so sweet, he needs it like he needs air. 

After drinking every drop of your juice he slowly lowered himself, he towered over your now shaking body. He connected his lips with yours again, and you could taste yourself against his lips. Kissing you so softly, he lets out a shaky breath against your lips.

“I think I also came,” he admitted, at which you only laughed. 

[cherryvvave]

“Look at me while I do this to you.” He said before standing up. 

WITH PLEASURE

[robin-vb]

My babies

[fancy-possum]

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤-𝐮𝐩 || 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

CW: explicit consensual smut, playful medical roleplay, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, praise, light possessiveness, fluff and aftercare. 18+ MDNI.

1k follower event || masterlist || based on this request

The emergency room of the Hall of Justice was quiet at 2:14am, the kind of hush that only happened on slow Monday nights.

You were finishing paperwork at your station when the doors slid open and in walked Wally West - speedster, hero, and apparently your most frequent patient.

He was limping dramatically, one hand pressed to his side, freckled face twisted in exaggerated pain. His red hair was messier than usual, and he was wearing civilian clothes instead of the Flash suit, which meant this wasn’t a real emergency.

You raised an eyebrow, already fighting a smile. “Mr. West. Back so soon?”

He hobbled over to the exam bed and sat down with a theatrical groan. “Doc, you gotta help me. I think I pulled something. Running too fast. Hero stuff. You know how it is.”

You grabbed your clipboard and stepped into the room, closing the curtain behind you. The only other nurses had long since learned to give you space when Wally showed up - he was a terrible liar, but a very charming one.

“Uh-huh,” you said, clicking your pen. “And which side is it this time? Left? Right? Or is it the mysterious ‘everywhere’ pain again?”

He grinned, sheepish. “Everywhere. Definitely everywhere. I might need a full exam.”

You tried to look stern, but your lips were twitching. “Wally, you’re not even subtle anymore.”

He leaned back on the bed, green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, doc. I’m a very injured man. I need your professional hands on me.”

You stepped between his knees, setting the clipboard down. “Professional hands, huh?”

“Very professional,” he said, voice dropping. “Maybe even… thorough.”

The air between you shifted, warm and charged. You’d been playing this game for weeks now — Wally showing up with increasingly ridiculous “injuries,” you pretending to believe him just long enough to patch him up and steal a few kisses in the exam room.

But tonight felt different. The hospital was dead quiet. No other patients. No nosy nurses. Just you, him, and the soft beep of monitors in the background.

You rested your hands on his thighs, leaning in close. “Tell me where it hurts, Mr. West.”

He swallowed, eyes darkening. “Everywhere. But mostly… here.” He took your hand and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. It was racing. “Feels like it’s gonna explode whenever I see you.”

You smiled, sliding your hand slowly down his torso. “That sounds serious. I should do a full check-up.”

Wally’s breath hitched as your fingers reached the hem of his shirt. You pushed it up, exposing his toned stomach, and pressed your palm flat against his skin. His muscles jumped under your touch.

“Pulse is elevated,” you murmured, pretending to be professional. “Breathing’s fast too. Any other symptoms?”

He groaned softly. “Yeah. Can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t sleep. Keep showing up here like an idiot because I need to see you.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his collarbone. “Sounds like a chronic condition.”

“Terminal,” he agreed, voice rough. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “Only cure is you.”

You kissed him then — slow and deep, tasting the faint sweetness of the energy drink he’d probably chugged before coming here. Wally melted instantly, hands sliding under your scrub top to trace warm paths along your back. He was always so gentle with you, even when he was desperate.

You broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his lips, “Lie back, patient. Doctor’s orders.”

He obeyed immediately, eyes locked on yours as you climbed onto the exam bed, straddling his hips. The paper sheet crinkled under you. Wally’s hands settled on your thighs, thumbs stroking the fabric of your scrubs.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he murmured, but he was grinning.

“You like trouble,” you replied, leaning down to kiss him again.

This time the kiss was hungrier. His hands roamed higher, slipping under your top to cup your breasts through your bra. You gasped into his mouth as he thumbed your nipples, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how sensitive you were.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whispered, sitting up slightly to pull your top off. He tossed it aside, then unclasped your bra with practiced ease. His mouth found your breast immediately, sucking gently, tongue swirling around the peak while his hand palmed the other.

You moaned softly, grinding down against the growing bulge in his jeans. Wally groaned, hips bucking up to meet you.

“Careful, doc,” he rasped. “You keep doing that and this exam’s gonna get very unprofessional.”

“Good,” you breathed, reaching down to palm him through his jeans. He was rock hard. “I think you patient needs urgent care.”

He laughed breathlessly, flipping you onto your back with careful speed. The paper sheet crinkled loudly as he settled between your thighs, kissing down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your scrubs.

“Can I?” he asked, eyes dark but still checking.

You nodded, lifting your hips. He peeled your scrubs and panties down in one smooth motion, tossing them aside. Then he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, spreading your thighs wider. He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up your center, groaning at the taste of you. “So wet already. All this for me?”

“Yes—” The word broke into a moan as he sucked gently on your clit, two fingers sliding inside you and curling just right. He worked you with devastating patience — long, slow licks mixed with quick flicks of his tongue, fingers thrusting steadily.

You gripped his hair, hips rocking against his face. “Wally— fuck— just like that—”

He hummed against you, the vibration making your thighs shake. “Taste so good, baby. Could stay down here all night.”

You came with a soft cry, back arching off the exam table. Wally worked you through it, gentling his tongue until you were trembling and oversensitive. Then he kissed his way back up your body, lips shiny, eyes glowing with satisfaction.

He rolled on a condom with quick hands, then settled between your thighs again. “Still okay?” he asked, nudging at your entrance.

You wrapped your legs around his waist. “More than okay. Need you inside me.”

Wally groaned and pressed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully seated. He stilled, forehead against yours, breathing ragged.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he whispered. “So warm. So tight. I love you. So much.”

Then he started moving — deep, steady thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot. One hand braced beside your head, the other stroked your side, your breast, your cheek, like he couldn’t stop touching you.

“Look at me,” he murmured. “Want to see you when you cum around me.”

You did, eyes locked on his as the pleasure built again. His pace stayed deep and rhythmic, grinding against you on every thrust, one hand slipping between you to circle your clit with gentle pressure.

You came with a moan of his name, walls clenching around him. Wally followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, holding himself up so he didn’t crush you, pressing soft kisses to your face.

When he finally pulled out and disposed of the condom, he came right back, pulling you into his arms on the narrow exam bed. You curled against his chest, head over his heart, legs tangled with his.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stroking your back.

“Perfect,” you whispered, nuzzling closer. “That was… exactly what I needed.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and content. “Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.” His hand slid down to rest on your hip, thumb stroking lazy circles. “But first… rest. I’ve got you.”

You smiled, safe in his arms, the sterile exam room feeling strangely like home.

Wally West might be the fastest man alive.

But with you, he was perfectly happy to slow down.

a/n : this was so freaky deaky whag if I explode

[whispershell]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞 ⇢ your finals were stressful enough. having jason doing chores shirtless around the apartment certainly wasn't helping.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⇢ suggestive ⬫ fluff ⬫ established relationship ⬫ f!reader ⬫ no physical description is given for the reader ⬫ english isn't my language .... 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⇢ 2k.

❝ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❞ first of all, i'd like to give credit to the incredibly beautiful jason artwork by @ciricearts and the dividers by @/chrisssiren. i'm so happy because this blog just hit 100 followers, yeee!! the idea for this fic came from the awful grade i got in business math... but at least i managed to recover it in the end. anyway, i hope you enjoy! ꈍ ꈍ ੭っ

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 the type to sleep much. years spent living on the streets, combined with all his training and his life as a vigilante, had taught his body to snap awake at the slightest sound. even after his longest patrols, his brain stubbornly refused to let its guard down.

but last night's patrol had been different. harder. he'd taken more hits than usual, fallen from a considerable height, and thrown more than a few guys into walls. by the time he'd made it back to your apartment, it was already a little past 3:00a.m. he'd barely managed to peel off his gear before collapsing into bed beside you.

when jason finally woke up, it was already 11:00a.m. he stretched lazily beneath the blankets, hugged the pillow against his chest, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand to make sure he wasn't imagining the time. the ceiling fan spun overhead with a soft, steady hum. the bed was warm, comfortable, and smelled like you. and he trusted you with his whole heart. under those circumstances, sleep came easy.

he reached across the mattress, patting your side of the bed, only to find it empty. the bedroom door was closed, and no sounds drifted in from the rest of the apartment.

sitting up, he rolled his shoulders, wincing as sore muscles protested and a few joints cracked pleasantly. then he lifted an arm, caught a whiff of himself, and grimaced. he'd been so exhausted last night that he hadn't even showered. you deserved better than that, he thought. the bare minimum was being a clean, decent-smelling boyfriend.

jason climbed out of bed, grabbed the towel you'd left out for him, and headed for the bathroom. warm water poured over his aching body, easing the soreness from the previous night's patrol while washing away sweat, grime, and dried blood. once he was done, he pulled on nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and stepped out with damp hair still dripping onto his shoulders.

the moment he entered the living room, he found you sitting on the floor with your back resting against the couch. an open laptop sat in front of you, a lecture video paused on the screen. around you lay an overwhelming sea of open textbooks, notebooks, highlighters, scattered pens, and one oversized mug of coffee.

jason knew your finals were right around the corner. he also knew how seriously you took your education. it was one of the things he admired most about you.

walking over, he bent down and gently ran a hand through your hair "morning, pretty girl. sleep well?" you closed your eyes for a brief moment, leaning into his touch before immediately returning your attention to the page in front of you.

"morning, baby. i did. what about you?" you asked without looking up from the book. "there's fresh coffee. i bought your favorite jam yesterday, it’s in the cabinet if you want some." a small smile tugged at his lips. he left you to your studying.

in the kitchen, jason poured himself a mug of coffee, tossed a couple slices of bread into the toaster, cracked a few eggs into a frying pan, and helped himself to the jam you'd mentioned. sitting on one of the counter stools, he ate in comfortable silence, stealing occasional glances in your direction with a faint smile.

once he finished, he gathered the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. last night's dinner plates were still stacked there, so he organized everything in what he considered the most efficient way before washing each plate, fork, and glass in an order that probably only made sense to him.

meanwhile, you were losing your mind over one particular subject. it had never been your strongest class, but you were far too stubborn to settle for a mediocre grade. with a heavy sigh, you let the textbook fall into your lap and glanced toward the kitchen, where your boyfriend stood at the sink with his back turned to you. and holy shit. he was gorgeous.

his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. his broad, bare back flexed with every movement, showing off defined muscles marked by both old and fresh scars, along with bruises earned during the previous night's patrol.

your eyes drifted lower. his sweatpants hung low enough to reveal those little dimples above his hips. and jason's ass? absolutely perfect. round, firm. infuriatingly nice. your boyfriend was undeniably stunning.

but you didn't have time to admire him, you had a damn exam to study for. you picked your textbook back up and tried to focus. tried. because every few seconds, your head seemed to turn on its own, your eyes instinctively finding jason all over again.

now he was putting dishes away in the cabinets, completely oblivious to the absolutely starving beast — you, to be specific — watching him from across the room.

you forced yourself to look back at your books. only to lose your place again. and again. you'd forget what you'd just read, lose your train of thought, and have to start the entire page over.

jason still had his own apartment, but the two of you had been together long enough that spending several days at each other's places had become completely normal. you had a section of your closet reserved for his clothes, just like he'd made room for yours at his place.

at this point, it honestly felt like you both had two homes. this was already jason's fifth day staying over. technically, the two of you hadn't spent much time together. he'd been busy with patrols, and you'd been buried under assignments and exam prep. still, for jason, simply crawling into bed beside you at the end of the day was enough to quiet his mind and make him happy.

because of your finals, the apartment had gotten a little messy. you were under so much pressure and juggling so many responsibilities that some chores had inevitably been pushed aside. but jason had been staying there all week too, the mess wasn't yours alone. so he decided to take care of it. that way, you'd have one less thing weighing on your mind.

he started by sweeping the apartment, deliberately avoiding the vacuum cleaner so the noise wouldn't interrupt your studying. afterward, he grabbed the mop and started cleaning the hardwood floors, adding a pleasantly scented cleaner that slowly filled the apartment with a fresh, comforting smell.

from your perspective, it was heaven. jason todd, all 6’0 tall, shirtless, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he quietly went about household chores without complaining once. god, you found competent men so unbelievably sexy.

almost instinctively, you brought the pen you were holding to your mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cap as the textbook lay completely forgotten in your lap.

you looked him over again. this time from the front. your gaze wandered from his broad chest, down over his sculpted abs and the happy trail that, truthfully, made you very happy indeed.

then your eyes dropped a little lower, and you noticed something. jason had apparently pulled on his sweatpants without bothering with underwear. now, as he pushed the mop across the floor, his very well-endowed friend swayed ever so slightly beneath the fabric, leaving very little to the imagination.

a quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped you before both hands flew up to cover your face. seriously… how were you supposed to study when your boyfriend looked that unfairly good?

the worst part? he genuinely seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you. you took a sip of the coffee that had long since gone cold and inhaled deeply. focus. you could not fail this class.

with a little of your self-control restored, you grabbed your notebook and resumed the lecture you'd been watching before jason woke up. maybe listening to the professor while taking notes would be enough to keep your attention where it belonged.

it worked, for a while. right up until jason walked back out carrying an overflowing laundry basket with one hand as if it weighed absolutely nothing. his expression was as calm as ever, and the flex of his arm made every muscle stand out beneath his skin, veins tracing along his forearm.

you followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the laundry room. a long sigh slipped past your lips as you let your head fall back against the couch. why was watching him do laundry so attractive?

a few minutes later, he returned, and you could hear the washing machine starting its cycle somewhere in the background. focus. you tried again. you pulled your notebook closer to your face, hugged your knees to your chest, and turned the lecture volume up, silently hoping your professor's irritating voice would annoy you enough to kill the mood.

the plan fell apart the second jason came back carrying a feather duster. watching him move from shelf to shelf, stretching, crouching, balancing an entire stack of books in one hand before placing every single one back exactly where it belonged… that was enough.

you paused the video. screw it. the study session was already doomed anyway. at that point, getting soaked with a bucket of water hardly mattered when you'd already jumped into the pool.

you stretched your legs out, rested one arm along the couch, and propped your head against your hand. then you simply watched him. completely shamelessly. your imagination filled in the blanks faster than you could stop it.

eventually, jason seemed to notice your stare. he turned around and met your eyes. his gaze flickered briefly toward the abandoned books and notebooks scattered around you before one corner of his mouth curled upward. raising an eyebrow, he smirked "babe... shouldn't you be studying?"

"oh, i absolutely should," you admitted with a shrug. "seriously. i bombed my last exam." a mischievous smile slowly spread across your face as you kept staring at him. "and may i ask why you aren't studying?" jason asked, already sounding suspicious.

"because..." you paused dramatically, running your tongue across your lips. "study is important..." another deliberate pause "but biceps are importanter."

silence. then jason burst out laughing. "you little pervert!" he accused, pointing a finger at you. "were you seriously checking me out?"

"this is entirely your fault," you shot back without missing a beat "how am i supposed to focus on studying when there's a ridiculously hot vigilante with a body sculpted by the gods cleaning my apartment shirtless and commando?"

jason blinked. then looked down. only then did he realize exactly how obvious the outline beneath his sweatpants was. he pressed a hand dramatically against his chest, feigning offense "so you're admitting, without a shred of shame, that you've been shamelessly thirsting over my body while i was completely innocent and blissfully unaware?"

your grin only widened. crooking a finger, you beckoned him closer. jason didn't hesitate, he walked over immediately before crouching in front of you, leaning in until your faces were only inches apart. "yes," you confessed softly "i absolutely was. i was staring shamelessly."

"not even a little embarrassed?" he murmured, his smile growing as he leaned even closer. "not even a little." your arms slipped around his neck as you closed the remaining distance, meeting his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

when you finally pulled away in search of air, you tilted your head slightly "thank you, baby." he looked at you curiously "i've been so overwhelmed thinking about finals that i didn't even realize how cluttered everything had gotten."

jason's expression softened immediately, his thumb brushed gently across your cheek "you don't have to thank me. you're taking care of school. that's your job."

"but you didn't have to do all this, you know." he answered with a quick peck before meeting your eyes again, his voice completely serious "yeah, i did. your job is to take care of school. my job..." his smile turned impossibly gentle. "...is taking care of you."

your chest tightened, a lump formed in your throat. it was such a simple sentence, but it was exactly what you needed. to be taken care of. you pulled him into another kiss before whispering against his lips, "then let's go to the bedroom," a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your mouth "and take care of something else, too. i've been missing a few things."

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 || please do not translate, repost or publish my works without permission. they’re personal to me, and i hope you’ll respect that.

[renviary]

missing the love of my life

[kkurensia]

howdy pardner

since a lot of yall liked the idea of cowboy nightwing

throws these out for good measure

freaky wip photo

[thismuttyaps]

Imagine you're dating Dick Grayson and you haven't seen him for a few days. Texts go unread, calls are straight to voice mail. You even go so far to call Bruce one day but he hasn't seen him either. That night you decide to go out to get him off your mind. But alas on your way home from the club you're mugged, but saved but none other than blüdhaven's own Nightwing. That's how you ended up here. Your pants along with the panties you had been wearing pushed down to your ankles, Nightwing has you pushed against the alley wall, balls deep in you. "Fuck baby." He moans out. It's too familiar but you can't place it quite. All you know is you love this dick and can't get enough. Is it really cheating if it's the hero of the city?

[ciricearts]

ohh so proud

[skeeets]

Ted Kord/Reader

Echo

Divider by toxisyddy