he hadn't meant to. honestly- he hadn't. your face had been shoved into the sheets- moans muffled, a small patch of drool pooling below you.. and you knew how much he loved eye contact during sex. so of course he would want to see how cock drunk and needy you were!
"let me see you,” he whispered, moving his arm under you to put a hand on your cheek to turn your head towards him.
"jack-"
"I know baby I know."
his arm settles right between your neck and the bed, bracing him and keeping you from hiding your pretty expressions from him.
from there all it takes is a simple flex of his arm and suddenly your face is squished between his bicep and forearm— the sudden squeeze accompanied by jack picking up the pace has you whimpering and moaning pathetically.
"that's it- there you are," he groaned out, hips jerking to grind deeper into you, "knew you'd like this- ah fuck- knew you'd let me do this to you.”
okay... maybe it wasn't so unintentional after all..
Now, now - of course, he can. It's not because he isn't capable of it; It's simply a rare occurrence. (God knows he could fold you like a fresh pile of laundry with just one hand). But I fear he would like the intimacy of it all too much. Like the way your fingers dig into his bicep, how your legs shake on his shoulders when he's hitting that special spot just right. The soft little whimpers and cries of cute little pet names, with the occasional squeal of his full legal name.
He knows he doesn't need to be rough to make you go a little braindead, okay? And half the time, if he does leave you drooling and barely remembering your own name, it's totally on accident. You'd think that fine man would be more self-aware than he is. For someone so skilled in various things, Jason genuinely underestimates how much he's packing. He knows he's a big guy and awfully strong - but down there? Completely clueless.
He gets so embarrassed afterward, apologizing when you can barely walk straight to the toilet, and somehow manages to embarrass you too by insisting on checking that he didn't tear anything down there. Seriously, man is on his hands and knees in the bathroom just trying to catch a look while you're pushing him away.
He's not even into anything too kinky (call him puppy, and he'll cream). He does enjoy giving you the occasional spank here and there when you're being a brat, but never degrading. He's a praise guy, through and through. Loves it when you ride him so he can get a full view with his rough hands steady on your hips. Whispering things like "you're doing so good love," and "mmm, just like that, pretty."
However, don't even think about post-patrol, Jason. He'll come home at three in the morning with bruises, maybe a knife wound, caffeine finally wearing off. Helmet tossed on the counter, shower until the water is cold and clear - only to find you so excited to see him! Bouncing on your feet, pressing kisses to his neck, being a needy little thing.
Prepare to get your shit rocked.
It's really the only time he fucks you hard and deep, not even taking the time to properly prep you as much as he normally does. Once you're drooling on his chest, falling asleep with a dazed smile on your face, only then does he kiss your forehead and fall asleep himself. He doesn't mean to be rough like that - but damn, baby, he's tired!
He may have the scary dog privileges, but at the end of the day, he's just a lapdog waiting for your love.
Low-key. Imagine being like the nurse/doctor for the SDN. Maybe also being an ex-villain but deciding to use some medical knowledge to heal (or maybe your powers help you)
But you're a big fan of who the ex-villains are. Like you're casually trying to work when THE Prism comes in and you have to help her. Of course you do, it's your job and they need to be healed up for their next mission.
But then imagine when they start getting merch of their hero status. Flambae plushes, Waterboy pins, Malevola stickers. The works. You buy them all, you're still a fan after all. What kind of fan would you be if you still didn't support them as a hero?
Maybe your bag is covered in the pins, the pen you use to note down what happened has has a mini figurine of them on top. The notebook is absolutely plastered with stickers of them. And they notice it. You could try to hide it but they notice it and oh how honoured they are that their favourite medic seems to like them just as much as they do. (Or they're absolutely embarrassed and is eternally dying inside from finding out you bought merch of them, THEM)
(Bonus points: If it's actually mechaman you're a fan of and you're just ranting to Robert about how much you like him and how cool the hero is when you're trying to heal him. Not knowing he is mechaman. Bros just laying there nodding along like "yeah yeah he's so cool" - Imagine how embarrassing it is to find out you ranted about the love you have for the hero TO THE HERO)
requested | by @haven-is-happy
pairing | dick grayson x gn! reader
summary | five times dick's family find him at peace with you
ONE
Richard's window slid open with ease, the well-worn, well-oiled hinges accustomed to the movement from the occupants' own nightly vigilante activities.
Damian's feet hit the carpet softly, his eyes narrowed as he searched the area, guided only by the TV's low lighting.
Soft puppy, paws pad over to him, Haley's tail wagging hard enough to shake her little body as she waited for pats. Kneeling, Damian gladly obliged, lavishing the dog with attention before he stood, holding her in his arms.
"Where are your owners?" He softly asked, scratching between Haley's ears. She whuffed softly, nosing toward the couch Damian was already moving toward.
Reaching for the remote to turn off the unused television, Damian freezes at the sight that greets him from the couch. It's Dick, cuddled into your chest beneath a pile of fuzzy blankets. One of your hands is threaded in his hair, the other resting gently on the back of Dick's neck.
His brother's face is half obscured by a bicep, his arms curled possessively around you, but Damian thinks he's never seen Dick so at peace.
Suddenly, the disagreement he'd had with father doesn't seem so significant, not if it meant waking you two.
TWO
Jason's boots hit the floor with a thud, not bothering to contain the groan as he squeezes through your window. It's not exactly built for a man of his size to utilise. Still, he manages to crawl through without falling face-first onto the floor, so Jason counts that as an absolute win.
Dick's apartment is hardly Jason's first choice, but it's closer than any of his safe houses. He doesn't need Nightwing's help, just the supplies that Jason's not too stubborn to admit will stop him from bleeding out in the very immediate future.
Kicking the coffee table accidentally, Jason curses silently. Dick's a light sleeper; they all are, and the last thing he needs right now is his wanna be big brother fretting over him. He freezes, listening out for any sudden changes in the previously still atmosphere, ready to make a sudden break for it if necessary.
When seconds pass, and there's no hint of movement from the bedroom, Jason assumes he's safe, continuing on his well-practised route through the space.
It's decorated, lived in, filled to the brim with photos and trinkets. Your influence, no doubt. He's seen it all before, in the previous instances just like this one (that have happened more times than he cares to admit), but one of the photos on the side table makes him pause.
The frame is new, but the image isn't — him, Dick and Bruce — one of the very few (if only) taken of them all together before he'd... well—
"Jason?" Your voice is soft, groggy, and a little confused from the leftover sleep in your system, but it surprises him nonetheless, only years of training preventing him from dropping the framed photo he hadn't even realised he'd picked up.
Swivelling, his eyes narrow behind the domino mask as he locates the outline of your form emerging from a fluffy blanket on the couch, "What are you... Are you alright?"
Generally, by now you'd be up and by his side, (You fret over him more than the strange new version of Dick that Jason's still not 100% sure isn't an imposter,) but it doesn't take him long to realise the reason you're still.
Dick is passed out, slumbering unaware, curled around you like an octopus. Peaceful. It's an alien scene, one that Jason is increasingly uncomfortable looking at, something unfamiliar lodging in his chest.
"Jason?" You call again, worry staining your tone and looking like you're ready to try and move, to dislodge his limpet of a brother at his lack of response.
"I'm fine, just needed a place to crash." His voice is soft, unsure, now that he's been thrown off balance. Now, more than ever feeling like an intruder upon sacred ground. "Go back to sleep, yeah?"
You squint at him, the silent stare off dragging uncomfotably long for Jason's tastes until you relax, seemingly finding something in his countenance.
"Mkay, the spare room's set up for you. You can use it, but only if you stay for breakfast."
You're already slipping back into the dark embrace of sleep, completely unbothered by his presence. It's that nonchalant show of trust that leaves Jason reeling more than anything, but he thinks he's beginning to understand how Dick sleeps so easily by your side.
THREE
Tim's a skilled combatant, for all that people underestimate him; he's no slouch when it comes to a fight. But more than that, he's a detective, one of the greatest in the world.
That's why, for the life of him, Dick doesn't understand why his little brother is still here, in his apartment, ruining his date with you. He's been lobbing increasingly less subtle hints Tim's way for nearly hours now.
Your cozy movie night in has long since been killed with no hope of resuscitation. Tim's dragged you and Dick into working on a case alongside him well into the late hours of the night.
He'd barged in like he owned the place, eating the food you'd made for Dick! Stealing the attention that belonged to him! Transforming your wall into his own personal murder board, like he didn't have one back in the cave.
Now you were struggling to stay awake, head resting on Dick's chest, legs thrown over his thighs as you stared at a file he wasn't entirely sure you were reading.
Not even five minutes passed before your breathing evened out, hands slackening as the file slipped uselessly onto his lap, as you succumbed to sleep.
Gently shifting you so you're in a more comfortable position, one that won't leave your back screaming bloody murder in the morning, Dick feels his own eyelids begin to droop and decides that a few minutes' rest won't hurt.
Oblivious to the state of his now-sleeping companions, Tim held a file out toward Dick. "Hey, could you take a look at this and—" He paused at the lack of response, looking up when the weight of the file in his hand wasn't taken.
"Dick, did you—" Oh.
He stares, a little mesmerised at the sight of you asleep in his brother's arms. At the sight of Dick, looking more contented than Tim can ever recall seeing him, nuzzling closer to you in his sleep.
Tim supposed the rest could wait until tomorrow.
FOUR
Cassandra adores you. Dick had once jokingly pouted that his sister loved you more than him, and Cass, well, she hadn't exactly denied it.
It wasn't that she loved you more, per se, but it was a different kind of appreciation. You never once looked at her as if she were broken or defective. Cass was aware she made people uneasy, but you never did. Even when she silently appeared from the shadows in a way that tended to make people jump.
But beyond that, you made Dick happy. Her brother would gush to anyone who'd listen about how spectacular, fantastic, amazing you were, and he meant every word.
Some would accuse him of hamming it up, but Cassandra knew the truth because body language never lies. Dick Grayson was so irrevocably, pathetically in love with you.
So, when Cass comes to pick you up for a girls' day out, only to find you snuggled up together on the couch, she's not all that mad. Patrol had been particularly rough last night, and it was only natural that Dick would seek comfort in your arms.
Likely still keyed up from last night, Dick's eyes slid open when he sensed Cass's presence, body tensing until he registered who'd intruded in his space.
Cass smiled in amusement, eyes softening as she raised her hands so Dick could see. 'Don't ruin this one.' She signed, making Dick huff.
Careful not to wake you, he moved so Cass could see him better before mouthing, "Wouldn't dream of it."
FIVE
To say you were nervous was putting it lightly. You'd met Batman before, had worked with him plenty of times too, but that was before you were dating his son.
You liked to think he didn't hate you at least, but this dinner would be your first time meeting Bruce Wayne, and you wanted him to like you.
Sensing your inner turmoil, Dick tries to make a joke, "Relax, babe, Batman doesn't like anyone," which has you pausing in your stride to glare at him.
"Putting aside that I need your dad to like me if we're going to have any sort of future, that's blatantly untrue; he likes Barry."
"What?" It's Dick's turn to raise a brow as you scoff.
"I know you have Superbat dreams, but I'm telling you, Flash is his favourite!"
Dick paused, a faraway look in his eyes as if he were suddenly recontextualising every interaction he'd ever witnessed between the two heroes. "Let's table that for now."
Entwining your fingers with his, Dick tugs you closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek. "I promise, Bruce likes you."
The nerves still lingered, but with Dick by your side, dinner ended up being... nice. Sure, Bruce asked enough questions to make it feel like an interrogation, but you saw it for what it was: an attempt to get to know his son's new partner.
"As bad as you thought it would be?" Dick teased, laughing when you chucked a pillow at him before sliding under the covers beside you.
Settling your head on his chest, it doesn't take long for you to succumb to the effects of sleep. With Dick by your side, it rarely does, even in foreign environments like his childhood bedroom in Wayne Manor.
Meanwhile, Bruce had made his way toward his son's room, feeling slightly guilty for wanting to interrupt your time together, but he needed help on patrol tonight.
"Dick, I'm sorry but—" Bruce paused in the doorway, gaze softening at the sight of his son nestled comfortably beneath the blankets with you.
He takes a few moments to absorb the picture before him, soaking in the sight of his eldest son so at peace, before quietly turning to leave.
Patrol could wait for tonight.
(+ ONE)
You were going to skin him alive. He was three hours later than he had promised. You'd forgive him once he explained the situation — a kidnapped child — but that didn't assuage the sliver of guilt in his heart.
Not long after you'd started dating, Dick had accidentally confided that he slept better by your side. You'd spoiled him, and now he could barely get a wink of sleep if you weren't next to him. He'd nearly been embarrassed by the display of vulnerability until you'd admitted you felt the same.
Your job often left you exhausted after working long hours, and still, on the nights you didn't patrol together, you'd always wait up for him without fail.
Apologies are already falling from his tongue as he slips through the window, only to taper off as he registers the sight waiting for him. You've found some company while waiting for him, it seems, as a plate of what was likely Dick's dinner sits empty on the coffee table, and Damian's stolen his spot by your side, the two of you dead asleep beneath the fuzzy blanket.
It's an adorable sight, one that has him reaching for his phone speedily to record the momentous occasion.
He manages to take a few photos before he's startled by the sudden realisation: if Damian's sleeping by your side, where's he supposed to sleep?
It's not all that cute anymore, and for the first time, Dick contemplates enacting a strictly 'no Waynes allowed' policy for his apartment. He's glad you're getting along with his brother, truly, but those cuddles are his goddammit!
Unfortunately, staring at the protective hold you have on Damian, Dick doubts he could keep them away even if he wanted to.
You'd been having horrible nightmares of him not coming back from deployment, and the recent extended missions have not been helping. When he's finally home, all battered and bruised but allowed to go home, you're sobbing in his arms all through the night.
You feel guilty. You should be the one comforting him, the injured, traumatized man, yet when you even mention your worry, he's quick to shut you up. He lifts you up from the couch and carries you to the bedroom just to show that he's the same capable man as before.
He settles you on his chest, warm, calloused hands running down your back. Hands that were too used to the trigger of a pistol than the fragile skin of a human.
He calmed himself for you, softened himself for you, and he found a great happiness in taking care of you. He continued rubbing your back, letting you press your ear to his chest so you could count his heartbeats. Slowly, you're lulled to sleep in his embrace.
Lohen loves fighting monsters. Everyone knows this. What they don't know is that there is something Lohen loves more than fighting monsters, and that is you.
You, the cutest thing he's ever met. You, the person he had to leave behind when he joined the expedition. You, who he was so happy to see again. He could hear you now, greeting him with open arms and tears about how much you missed him as you begged him to never leave you again.
In truth, when he told you he would be leaving for Nod-Krai, you were overjoyed. For while he saw your relationship as two lovers destined for church bells you saw your relationship as obsessed predator and prey, with him as the predator.
Now, he's back and worse then ever. When he left you held out hope that maybe, distance would make him give up on you, that Nod-Krai's troubles would distract him so much from you, you could return to normal life. Alas, it only made his love for you stronger.
So, the moment he touches the land of Mondstadt and greets the knights he rushes towards your house and almost knocks down the door with his fist.
"Darling, I'm back!" He yells while knocking on the door.
You freeze at the voice, you know that voice all too damn well. You peek out the window and see Lohen's red and green eyes and manic smile. You lock the door but you can still hear him begging for you to open the door before you hear him throwing himself against the door, the hinges and wood creaking under his blows before you hear a loud crash and see Lohen standing in the door way, still smiling that manic smile you hoped to avoid.
"Darling. Come out, come out wherever you are," he says in a sing song voice.
You cover you mouth and breath as you tuck yourself into the deepest corner of your closet. You can hear him calling out to you as he moves through your house, looking and touching all you things. You hear your bedroom door open and the sounds of Lohen looking for you. You tuck yourself more and more into the corner of your closet as the sounds of footsteps approach the closet door.
"I know you're in there, darling. Come on out. I've missed you so much," he begs.
You don't even move. You hear him dramatically sigh then ho quiet. You left out a quiet sigh of relief, only for the closet door to be almost ripped off the hinges. Before you can even scream Lohen pulls you into a crushing bear hug, making sure his chin rests on the top of your head. You can hear him chuckling and planting kisses on the top of your head as you try to pull away. He hugs you tighter, only pulling away to look at you.
"Now, let's get some food so I can tell you all about my time away," he says, dragging you out of your house.
You try and tell him jo, but the look in his eyes tells you that doing that would be a really bad idea. So, you let him drag you all the way to Good Hunter where he tells you every detail of the expedition between bites of food. By the time he's done, you feel a bit sick. He then casually mentions that since he's back, you can move in with him. You tell him no, standing up from the table. He looks at you and laughs.
"Oh, darling. It's so cute you think you have a choice," he says.
He then lays out the plan, you pack your stuff and you move into his home for good. You try to give your opinion but he shushes you and gives you the same look that turns even the bravest of knights to stone, so you do as he says and you pack up and move in with him. As you get settled he can't help by smile. His life long dream is coming true, he finally gets to have you in his home and all to himself.
Can I request some Invincible characters with a GN S/O whose an eldritch/cosmic horror? They actually do a pretty good job of pretending to be human... as long as you don't stare to long at them (else you'll see them laughing with their eyes). If you've ever seen The Summer Hikaru Died, their true self looks at lot like "Hikaru's" impurity form!
oh this is a fun idea!
Okay, let's see...
Mark Grayson: he probably meets you in space. You notice him first and become interested in this colourful earth boy and decide to follow him. Mark probably notices some "colourful blobby" thing following him, but doesn't connect it to you later on when you first introduce your new human self to him. He probably clicks on real late into the game that you're not what you seem to be, y'know, after noticing you don't get hurt or eat or even breathe... or blink. Or that your eyes reflect light in photos. Yeah...
He's actually really happy you're not a normal person because it means he won't have to worry about losing you as much. What will he have after five hundred years? You.
Conquest: Viltrumites aren't supposed to breed with "lesser" species, so your human disguise really works in his favour. Though it starts to fall apart when he realises you're a little too durable/powerful for a human. And he knows you're not a Viltrumite, so... what are you?
Upon revealing your true form to him, Conquest immediately asks: "Can I fight you?" Followed promptly by: "Can we mate in this form?" Y'know, the important questions. He finds you a little weird looking at first but quickly adjusts. For a universe full of millions of aliens, you're easily the most unique lifeform he's come across after all.
He especially loves how durable you are. Finally, a companion! And one that won't die easily or soon!
Cecil Stedman: ... there's no way this man doesn't know. Someway, somehow, he learns the truth. He practically lives at the GDA which is chock-full of different types of security sensors. One of them is bound to pick up on your inhuman status. And when it does...
He doesn't do anything. Not at first. It's the same as with Nolan: he waits and sees what you do. So long as you're peaceful/helping save lives, he lets you be. And since all you're doing is making him meals and keeping his space tidy, Cecil is happy to let you be.
When the day comes that he asks to see your true form, Cecil lets out an appropriate "... Huh." at the sight. He's not sure what he was expecting, but this sure isn't it.
Then he continues on like nothing happened. A few tentacles/dozens of eyes/void-like body won't stop him from dating you.
Rex Splode: he mentions once that magic freaks him out, so I imagine supernatural stuff does too. So while he likes you, loves you even, he can't help but side-eye you whenever you do weird shit. His magic senses are going off whenever you appear behind him without making a sound or when your shadow remains a shapeless pool under you no matter where you are or what you're doing.
"Love you babe but that's creepy" becomes his catchphrase at some point because you're always doing weird shit. He feels so vindicated when you reveal the truth to him. Like finally!
He likes poking your true form, finds it funny to touch.
Thragg: the phrase "there's always a bigger fish" is true here. Thragg is the epitome of Viltrumite strength, a Viltrumite among Viltrumites, yet you...
You're something else. Something Other.
Endless, eternal. Form shifting and changing on a whim, only glimpses of your true form allowed, else he may become... overwhelmed.
For a good chunk of time he's probably disgusted by you before, after a long time of being with him, he adjusts to your presence. He sees you as a pet for a bit, then a companion. If you're capable of having children and give him an heir, Viltrumite in all but the added abilities of the unfathomable, he'll proudly call you his mate. A strong, healthy child is all he really wants with their species on the brink of extinction, after all.
The Maulers: you pretend for a bit, but the boys aren't stupid. Sooner or later they catch on that you're not human, and not in the way like they or other villains aren't. But as in literally out of this world.
They probably experiment with you for a bit, try and figure you out. Is dating a eldritch entity shocking? Yes. Is your true form headache inducing? Quite. Do they really care? Not as long as they can run tests on you. They are scientists, after all.
cw: yandere traits, mentioned sex, reader is a loser and a FREAK!!
disclaimer: I want to emphasize that I do not endorse or support this type of behaviour. This content is purely for entertainment purposes.
New oc based off this post
yandere ! perfect student, who’s always been at the top of everything—grades, charm, reputation, sex appeal (though he never cashes in on it).
yan ! perfect student, who prides himself on being untouchable. Who treats crushes like minor inconveniences. Who ghosted the student body president and his own debate partner and got away with it.
yan ! perfect student, who’s never once noticed you—until you laughed during a lecture. Alone. No one else was talking.
yan ! perfect student, whose eyes flick to the back of the room and find you, smiling faintly at your own desk like you're in on some secret joke.
yan ! perfect student, who thinks What the fuck? And means it in the worst way.
yan ! perfect student, who hears the rumours. That you're weird. Unsettling. That you doodle eldritch things in your planner and mutter in Latin during group projects. That you once got caught sniffing a book in the library. That you're probably failing three classes and yet always there, haunting the corners of lecture halls like a stray thought.
yan ! perfect student, who smiles when you finally bump into each other outside the cafeteria. You’re looking at a vending machine like it insulted your ancestors. He says your name, slow and deliberate. You look up, eyes bleary, and go, “Oh. Are you the guy with the stupidly linear eyebrows?” He chokes on air. For the first time in his life.
yan ! perfect student, who laughs it off. Who plays the long game. Who starts sitting beside you in class, offering gum, correcting your notes, and making casual conversation. He expects resistance. You, meanwhile, hand him a heart-shaped paperclip and go, “It looked like your vibe.”
yan ! perfect student, who thinks, what the fuck is wrong with this guy.
yan ! perfect student, who thinks, Why do I want to press him against a wall and see how fast he breaks?
yan ! perfect student, who learns that you barely eat lunch unless someone reminds you. That you’re always cold, even in summer. That you keep giving him small, weird gifts—stickers, cursed keychains, a CD labelled “sex dungeon ambience for wizards.”
yan ! perfect student, who starts wondering where you are when he can’t see you. Who starts glaring at people who laugh too hard at your expense. He doesn't mean to get possessive. You’re just… his. Obviously. Even if you don’t know it yet.
yan ! perfect student, who finally sees the shift in you—when you catch him staring. When your lips curve just so. When you lean in and whisper, “You always look like you’re trying not to eat me alive. You’d be a terrible liar in bed, huh?”
yan ! perfect student, who swears under his breath. He goes home that night and can’t sleep. Not with the image of your fingers tugging at your hoodie strings while you ask him if he’s “ever tried breathplay with someone who talks in their sleep.”
yan ! perfect student, who should have run the other way. But you smile like a predator dressed as prey. And now he's the one following you.
yan ! perfect student, who corners you after class, fists clenched in his pockets, and says, “You think you're funny, don't you?” And you? You tilt your head, grin all teeth, and murmur, “I think you want me to shut up. With your mouth.”
yan ! perfect student, who doesn’t know if he wants to ruin you or be ruined.
yan ! perfect student, who realises—far too late—that whatever game he started, he’s not the one in control anymore.
