heyy love your dc smaus (specifically how you write wally and jason lol) :-) just saw a reel where a girl pranked her boyfriend by using her own money to buy something expensive/ something she wanted. I was thinking about how the dc guys would react to their s/o pranking them like this?
I wanted to get it for you
featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Wally West, Hal Jordan
warning: fluff
A/N: Thank you so much, I’m really glad you love the smaus🫶🏻 I’m always having so much fun doing these (especially writing wally’s part LMAO).
Includes: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Wally West & Hal Jordan
Summary: stopping them during sex for a 'silly' reason
Content/CW -> gn! reader + afab! reader (wally's), mentions of blood/periods, suggestive/slight nsfw, reader has hair (hal's part), mostly just funny silly
— requested by the amazing lovely talented @gothamorphosis (go check out their smaus they EAT!)
froggi yaps -> had this in my inbox foreverrr ;-; so happy im finally getting to it cause its such a fun idea :p couldn't decide on characters so i just went back to my roots <3 also huge content dump today teehee
Dick Grayson:
You thought you were being slick, taking your hand off the back of Dick’s neck and inching it towards the nightstand.
Dick stills inside of you, tilting his head at you in confusion. There’s a goofy smile on his face. “What’s up?”
You blink at him, wiping a hand over your sweat-slicked forehead. “I need water,” you smile sheepishly.
He chuckles, grabbing the comically large water bottle he keeps on his nightstand and flicking out the straw. You prop yourself up on your elbows, Dick holding up the bottle to your lips.
You sip on it, the water instantly cooling you down and fixing the dry ache on your tongue.
“Good?” He asks and when you nod, he puts it to his own mouth and chugs about half the bottle in one go.
You watch him chug it, his throat bobbing and water glistening on the corners of his mouth. His own hair is sweaty, stuck to his head and dangling over his forehead.
You reach up and swipe a strand away. Dick puts the water bottle back down, letting his body sandwich you against the mattress again.
“You know,” he mumbles in your ear, “I didn’t realize I tire you out so much you needed a water break.”
You smack his bicep. “Shut up.”
He rolls his hips into yours, a smirk on his face. “Are you sure you want to have an attitude right now?”
You swallow, shaking your head.
Jason Todd:
Jason’s off you the minute the word slips from your lips, pulling himself back with his hands raised in surrender. His lips are parted slightly, dark brows furrowed in concern as he analyzes your body. Your legs are shaking, face twisted in pain.
“Everything okay? What’s going on?”
Oh god. He hurt you, he was too rough and he hurt you and you’re in pain and you’re never going to trust him again and—
You arch your back on the bed, twisting and stretching your limbs. “Leg cramp.”
He blinks. “Leg…cramp?”
“Mhm,” you hum, pulling a knee to your chest.
The hammering in Jason’s chest stills, his face blank in that way it gets when he’s not sure what to think.
“Jay?” You cock your head to the side, looking at him through your lashes, “you alright?”
“I thought,” he frowns, “I thought you were hurt, or something.”
You laugh, pressing a hand to his cheek and leaning in for a kiss. You ghost your lips over his, smiling into him, “you think too much.”
He cups the back of your neck, laying you back down on the bed. “Maybe, wanna help me with that?”
“Gladly.”
Wally West:
“Wally.”
The redhead hums, head sunk low in the dip between your shoulder and neck, giving no indication of stopping. You shove at his shoulder.
“Wally!”
He pulls away, eyes glassy and pupils blown, hair a total mess. He blinks, “sorry, fuck, is everything alright?”
“I think…I just started my period.”
“Okay,” he says, pursing his lips and leaning back in to kiss your neck again.
“Wally—I’m gonna stain your sheets.”
He shrugs. “So? I’m not scared of a little blood.”
“I’m gonna make a mess.”
“It’s just blood,” he repeats.
“But—“
He cups your face, squishing your cheeks together. “Look, doll. If you’re in pain or you don’t want to keep going, say the word. But if you’re stopping because of me, cause you think I’ll be grossed out or something, don’t.”
You sigh, falling back into the sheets and tentatively parting your legs. “You swear its fine?”
Wally grins ear to ear. “Swear on my sheets.”
Hal Jordan:
Hal stares at you blankly when you pull away from him with a wince, rubbing the side of your head. One minute, you seemed to be enjoying yourself, your hands on his chest and head against his shoulder while he thrusted into you.
“What’s up?” He asks, still breathless.
You point to his hand, specifically the ring sitting on one of his wide fingers. In it rests a small chunk of your hair, strands splayed out every which-way. Hal holds it in front of his eyes, eyebrows shooting up as he realizes what happened.
“Is that?”
You nod, “my hair? Mhm.”
He smiles sheepishly, plucking it out from where it’s gotten caught on the band and discarding it over the side of the bed. “Jesus,” he shakes his head.
“Yeah,” you frown, scrunching your nose. “Hurt like a bitch.”
“Aw,” he teases, a huge grin on his face, “need me to kiss it better?”
And to his surprise and delight, you nod, leaning your head in so Hal can run his lips over your temple. He catches you in his arms then, pulling you back into his chest.
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
or… a collection of twitter links to imagine dc characters as! (female reader!) (18+ CONTENT!)
STARING: bruce “the batman” wayne! dick “nightwing” grayson! clois (guilty pleasure. clark kent x lois lane)! wally “the flash” west! tim “robin” drake! hal “green lantern” jordan! (and a little cameo from conner kent and terry mcginnis at the end!)
✦ MUST BE LOGGED INTO TWITTER TO WATCH THESE! ✦
✦ IF A LINK IS GONE — CLICK HERE! ✦
AUTHOR'S NOTE: god I need all of them. this initially began as a clois p!link (and I have a full post for them because grrr, they got me fucked up) but I wanted to include these hotties as well. this is also a birthday post to me! so happy 19th birthday to me and my gift to myself? smut. will eventually do a part 2 with marvel boys as p!link because they also sexy asf and I can’t pick between one or another (they’re all so fucking hot) and also my first p!link post featuring adrian chase did good!
CLOIS LINKS! (clark kent x lois lane)
content warning; size kink, vag! fingering, boob fondling, service dom! clark kent, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving)!
clark’s dick is huge, he knows it’s big but lois takes it like the champ she is! — click here!
clark kent knows he’s big. he has a bigger stature than anyone else, his biceps are huge, his thighs have more meat on them than they should, and his dick… well his dick is another story. even when it’s flaccid, it’s nearing the 4.5 inch mark, it has that stupid right curve when it is hard, and it always for some reason shows in his pants.
he knows lois is smaller than him by a huge fucking margin— it’s not even close… but god damn is she taking his dick like it’s normal.
lois is trying to get ready for her and clark’s date… but in clark’s mind? she looks too sexy not to bend over the bathroom sink — click here!
clark and lois’ date nights were always thursdays night; it was right before friday, it was the least busy but it also had good deals. wether they went out or stayed inside and cooked their own meals and watched their own shows, they always made sure to fulfill the thursday date nights.
but one problem? lois just looks too sexy every time when she gets ready, and clark can’t resist himself. he feels bad because she has to redo her makeup, but how could anyone blame him when her ass just looks so perfect not to eat?
clark playing with lois’ tits after that specific dress shirt (that definitely wasn’t hers) teased him all day in the bullpen! — click here!
it didn’t take a lot to make clark go crazy— especially for his wife… but seeing her in the bullpen with that white dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and the top buttons unbuttoned, it was definitely oversized and clark’s that she had to rush on.
so the moment clark and lois came home together, clark unbuttoned that dress shirt, pulled down her bra and couldn’t resist himself.
after lois has a bad day at the office, clark becomes the best husband in the world and fucks the stress right out of her — click here!
lois lane knew what bad days were. she had so many in the past where alcohol was the best solution to them… but dating and eventually marrying clark “superman” kent, he knew just the way to get that pretty little mind ruined, not from work but from his cock!
so cue clark ruining her, fucking her pussy and filling that cunt full of his cum.
BRUCE "THE BATMAN" WAYNE LINKS!
content warnings: oral (female receiving), face s1tting, dom! bruce wayne, doggy style, manwhore behavior, breeding kink!
after a tougher patrol than usual, bruce wants one thing; you to sit on his face! — click here!
dating the billionaire vigilante, you knew bruce was gone for a period of time in the night; he had good days and he had bad days, he had days where gotham was generally quiet and he had days where activity would go well into the morning. he had days like this where he wanted you, but god had other plans. with his batman suit torn, parts of the cowl broken off, utility belt near damn empty, he came home to you and wanted one thing and one thing only.
you didn’t get a chance to breath the moment bruce stripped, not even a ‘hello’ before bruce lifted you up, putting your pussy right over his mouth and going all in on your pussy and hole.
bruce doesn’t tolerate your disrespectful nature when he doesn’t fuck you on your time — click here!
bruce wayne was a man who no one dared to disrespect unless they wanted their ass handed to them; no one could touch the prince of gotham, no one even dared to get near the edge of disrespect. but the one person who could disrespect him and not get their asses kicked? you. the love of his life.
because instead of getting your ass kicked— he’d never lay a hand on you that bordered hurtful, he had another way of punishing you, especially when your pussy overtook your senses.
bruce wayne gives the best back shots in all of gotham, and you’re the recipient of them — click here!
bruce wayne had a lot of sex; you knew this. he was a playboy for a reason, and he was the best selling playgirl centerfold of all time, he was too damn experienced for his own good, and his favorite position? backshots, and it wasn’t even close. not at all. you loved when he got you on your knees, hair in his hand and your ass bounced on him.
and thank god being experienced in sex meant that bruce wayne’s backshots were top tier!
of course bruce wayne, the man with a thousand different kids would have a breeding kink that knows no bounds when it comes to your cunt — click here!
there wasn’t a lot of things bruce wayne would admit, and one of those things? his secret breeding kink. he didn’t hate the idea of having kids, he had like 8 of them for god’s sake, if anyone knew how to handle kids, it would be him. it’s just an odd barrier that he can’t figure out, but you didn’t mind. but he definitely had a breeding kink, there was no way around that fact that he didn’t have to admit.
you especially didn’t mind when he was fucking your cunt like this and filled it up warm!
DICK "NIGHTWING" GRAYSON LINKS!
content warnings: oral (female receiving), morning sex, lover boy! dick grayson, birdflash, two at once, overstimulation, nudes, taking photos during sex!
dick loves waking you up in one particular way; his face between your thighs — click here!
when you began to date dick, there was rumors that he was a lover boy to the point he was a womanizer, they say that he learned that from the very best, bruce playboy wayne. soon enough, the rumors were proven right with how much he fucking loved you, that includes during sex.
he couldn’t start his day off right without making sure you woke up right, so there he was, in between your legs before you got out of bed!
when you tell best friend! dick that you may or may not have a crush on his best friend, wally, he decides to take things into his own hands, inviting wally over and things take a very fulfilling turn — click here!
dick grayson was your best friend, you two did everything together, which including hanging out with his best friends, which lead you to finding out what a hottie wally west is. knowing you could tell dick anything (and wanting him to hook you up with the speedster because you hooked him up with one of your friends); you ask him to get you on a date with him.
what you didn’t expect was for him to secretly call him over, and things get a little out of hand but you didn’t care!
dick grayson and his need to overstimulate you to the max even when you’re so out of it — click here!
dick grayson was an asshole, you loved the fact that he was a cocky bastard who knew that he was great at sex and knew your body like his own. he was best friends with overstimulation and made it his personal mission every time he fucked your brains out to make sure you got to that level of overstimulation.
even when you couldn’t take it anymore and your cunt was way past round five, he still pushed you more and more.
dick has a thing for taking pictures of you taking his cock like a champ just for jerk off material when he’s gone for longer nights on patrol — click here!
half of dick grayson’s phone’s camera roll was full of photos of him and the wayne family. he had a lot of pictures of cool buildings, sick work out photos, and a lot of photos of things he wanted to buy. the other half of his camera roll? it was full of nudes, if you and videos of him blowing your back out in every possible position.
because if there was one thing dick loved doing, it was getting photos of you when you’re at your sexiest when gotham patrol was quiet and his cock was aching.
wally loves seeing your face during sex, especially the way you moan when he ruins your cunt! — click here!
wally loves your face. he loves your eyes— especially the color, he loves your nose, he loves your eyebrows and the way they furrow when they’re mad, he loves your mouth (especially the way they feel when he kisses you and when it’s agape around his cock or moaning his name).
he loves your face; so it’s not a shock that during sex? he loves ruining your pussy and watching your facial expressions because of his cock.
wally loves giving you head. you love giving wally head so what’s your guy’s favorite position? the good old fashioned 69 — click here!
giving wally head was really good. he was long, he fit perfectly in your throat, and the moans he let out was fucking heavenly. wally loves giving you head. he loves the way your cunt tastes, the way you pull at his hair and beg for more, and those moans of yours? replayed in his mind for hours.
both of you loved going down on each other, so it was only time until 69 became your guy’s favorite position.
you and wally go to sabrina carpenter’s concert, and you get picked as the ‘juno’ girl, so you use the pink handcuffs given to you to very good use — click here!
wally west’s guilty pleasure wasn’t a food, it wasn’t an activity, it wasn’t a certain show… it was a music artist; sabrina carpenter. listen, nonsense got him hooked and he loves both short n’ sweet and man’s best friend, so of course, when he found out the blonde would be touring around him, he had to get tickets— and he got them and dragged you along.
it was like the stars aligned that night because when sab picked you to be the ‘juno’ girl because of your hotness and you received the pink handcuffs, you knew exactly how this night would end…
being such a good girlfriend and letting wally use your mouth like a personal sex toy — click here!
you barley let wally manhandle you. to you, he was your personally puppy, following you around and taking orders like a good boy— and a good boy he was, he loved being the submissive one in your guy’s relationship. he loved taking orders, being called a ‘good boy’ and being praised…
but even wally needed that bit of control, and seeing you deep throat his cock and allowing him to face fuck you? yeah, that was the best type of control
HAL "GREEN LANTERN" JORDAN LINKS!
content warnings: breeding fetish, mating press position, s!toys, oral (both male and female receiving), sub! hal jordan!
hal jordan vs the deadly combination of his breeding kink and the mating press — click here!
hal jordan swears he doesn’t have a breeding kink. he swears upon it and doesn’t like to admit anything. he’s a freaky man but even that’s a line he won’t cross. (even though clark kent, a fellow breeding kink haver, can tell with that specific glint in the lantern’s eye whenever he sees you with a kid)
but when he has you in the mating press after a long day of being a test pilot… how could he not indulge in it?
double pleasure including hal jordan’s cock and your trusty friend; the vibrator — click here!
hal jordan was a freaky man, probably one of the freakiest men you’ve dating. (or the freakiest if you’re being honest) and if there’s one thing he loves more than flying jets for a living; it’s delivering you nothing but pleasure
so what does he do when he finds out you have a little friend called a vibrator? well of course; he makes you use it while he fucks your hole!
wearing those stockings around hal, especially when he’s in the mood for a little loving? good luck getting him out of your legs — click here!
you know exactly what to wear and how to act in order to rile up your boyfriend. wear a specific shirt, wear those jeans that make your ass a little fatter, curl your hair a certain fashion? it all made hal go fucking nuts. but one thing he loved more? stockings.
so wearing those pretty stockings you know hal loved (because he ripped the previous pair) to bed when he was in the shower? how could he resist getting in between those thighs of yours.
hal making you suck his dick while he stands up before he goes to a league meeting — click here!
you loved hal, but you hated that he left so early for these damn meetings. dating a superhero meant being woken up to no person on your side of the bed, you absolutely hate it. although he comes back, it still sucks not having him there sometimes.
before hal dresses up and leaves, you lazily (and half sleepy) suck him off to give him a little more pep in his step— and he couldn’t be more happier while you got your morning dose of hal jordan
TIM "ROBIN" DRAKE LINKS!
content warnings: s!toys, dom! tim drake, oral (female receiving), timkon, handjobs, injury-prone tim drake!
tim “accidentally” finds your old dildo in your closet, so he uses it on you because why do you need it when you have him — click here!
tim didn’t mean to find it— or at least that’s what he was telling himself when he went through your closet to find one of his jackets, because you love stealing it from him, and being the little snooper he is… he found it; an old dildo, that had usage on it, a little tugs at the silicone… you used a dildo when you had tim to fuck you.
and when he bent you over his knee and fucked you with the toy, muttering some shit about “pathetic plastic” while he ruined your cunt with it? yeah you weren’t surprised at all.
you hate when your sometimes boyfriends tim and conner fight over you so you do the second best thing; get them both to eat your pussy — click here!
inspired by this previous oneshot! you had two puppy dog boyfriends, sometimes not boyfriend, at the palm of your hands— they’d do anything for you, which meant they constantly fought over who did what for you, who fucked you where and who got first dibs.
and there could only be so many damn arguments between them before you got tired; so cue you grabbing them both by their hair and pulling them down to your cunt!
tim is generally very gentle and loving when he fucks your brains out, but pissing him off enough can get you a different side of tim drake — click here!
pissing off tim drake wasn’t easy. he was an easy going boyfriend, he wasn’t a jealous person the more he was protective. he wasn’t any sort of insecure and he didn’t want to fuck this relationship up with you… but you enjoyed seeing him get riled up because of course you do. tim also loves being gentle during sex too, savoring each and every part of your body.
and when you got your wish when you pissed him off by mentioning another guy’s name during sex when he wouldn’t go hard on you… you loved every second of it!
giving tim a handjob after a particularly bad day on patrol in gotham and because you won’t let him injure himself more — click here!
tim drake knew what it was like to get injured. he constantly got battered around during patrol, he ate concussions like they were a midnight snack, and he always had some sort of bandage on. you hated that tim always got injured, especially because it meant he was hurting himself to give you pleasure, and you couldn’t have that.
sometimes, the best way of pleasure for tim is to let you take control— it helps that he loves the way you jerk him off.
BONUS LINK!
they say to not intertwine business with pleasure, but when wally west, dick grayson, conner kent, and terry mcginnis all want you… it’s a good thing they know how to share — click here!
don’t ask me how I have all of these links (visual learner for my smut, need to see the action to write the action, lmao) part two featuring some more of these guys… possibly? maybe, let’s see if I can find some more—
ꮼ Hal Jordan tries to avoid waking you up at all costs
ᦸ having a superhero!husband is sooo sweet, until he wakes you up at ungodly hours of the night and you can't even be mad.
"Son of a—" Hal grumbled under his breath, hissing in pain as his foot made contact with one of the many plants that littered your bedroom. "Fuckfuckfuck."
His eyes flicked to the bed—watching your sleeping form, still snug & calm under the blankets
"Thank god." He sighed, stretching out in bliss as he took in how pretty you looked in the moonlight, taking one step forward before bam!
He tripped over one of your heels & landed flat on his ass.
"Motherfucker!" He yelped, curling up in pain for a moment, freezing in fear as he heard the sheets shifting, before your head leaned over the edge of the bed, glaring down at him.
"You're on the wrong side of the bed, Hal." You hissed, flicking on the lamp with a slow hand. "Why were you coming in on the wrong side?"
"Honey, princess, beautiful, darlin', light of my life," he whispered, scrambling to his knees, padding over to you quickly. "I just wanted to lie with the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"So annoying, you are sooo annoying, baby." You huffed, tossing a pillow at Hal's chest. "I need my beauty sleep." You glanced at the clock, jaw clicking as you processed the time. "Being woke up at 2 in the morning is not beauty sleep."
"You don't need beauty sleep, you just hate being woken up"
"Everybody hates being woken up."
"I don't hate when you wake me up." Hal mused, crawling on top of you on the bed. "I actually find it pretty endearing."
"Yeah, well, you're weird." You mumbled, averting his gaze as he ducked down to leave soft kisses along your jaw. "So—shit—so weird."
"You married weird." He hummed against your skin, pulling the blanket over both of you with a soft nip to your earlobe. "You looove weird so much, dont'cha baby?"
"Well, weird was tall and muscular."
"Wow, so I'm just nice to look at, nice to know, princess." He grunted, peeling back to kiss your forehead. "I married you over chemistry, & you married me because I'm a nice piece of ass."
"Mm. A sweet, caring, annoying piece of ass." You sighed, pulling him down to press a soft kiss to his lips. "But yes, a sexy little piece of ass that I claimed alllll to myself."
Both. He can't find himself choosing between them, he loves having you riding him and in doggy style equally. And usually in the same night he manages to put you in both. It is true that when you two are needy, he tends to bend you over and take you from behind, always making sure to leave marks in your cheeks.
DICK GRAYSON
Surprisingly, boobs. He has enough ass himself, so he enjoys the gorgeous sight of your boobs.
He can’t keep his eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. When you’re on top, riding him slow and steady, he’s in absolute heaven: head tipped back, blue eyes locked on the way they bounce with every roll of your hips, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you’re gasping his name.
He loves burying his face between them, kissing and sucking marks into the soft skin while you grind down on him, telling you in that low, ragged voice how perfect you feel against him.
Even in other positions he finds a way, pulling you close in missionary just to mouth at them, or reaching around to palm and tease when he takes you from behind (though he’ll flip you over soon enough because he needs to see them again).
Quickies against the wall? His free hand is already sliding under your shirt. Lazy mornings in bed? He’s nuzzling into your cleavage before he’s even fully awake.
JASON TODD
A secret, third option: thighs.
He’s obsessed. Thick thighs, soft thighs, toned thighs, doesn’t matter. The second you’re in his reach, his hands are there, gripping hard enough to leave fingerprints, sliding up under whatever you’re wearing just to feel the warmth and give a possessive squeeze. He loves the way they tremble when he’s got you pinned against the wall, or how they clamp around his waist when you pull him closer.
His favorite view in the world is you straddling his lap, thighs spread over his, rocking slow while he watches the muscle flex with every grind. He’ll drag his calloused palms up and down them endlessly, muttering low and rough about how strong they are, how good they look wrapped around him.
When he takes you from behind, he’s still fixated, hooking a hand under one thigh to lift it, opening you up more, or pulling you back so he can feel them pressed against his hips with every thrust.
And marks? Oh, he leaves them everywhere: bite marks high on the inner thigh where only he’ll see, bruises blooming on the outsides from how tight he holds on when he’s losing control. Lazy nights on the couch turn into him resting his head on one thigh while his fingers trace absent patterns on the other, like he can’t go five minutes without touching them.
HAL JORDAN
Boobs. And he’s not subtle about it.
The ring might make him fearless, but nothing lights that cocky spark in his eyes faster than your chest. Hal’s the type to smirk the second you walk into the room, gaze dropping straight there like he owns the view—and in his mind, he absolutely does.
He’ll pull you onto his lap mid-conversation, hands sliding up your sides until his thumbs are brushing just beneath them, that smug little grin on his face as he murmurs, “Missed these almost as much as I missed you.”
He loves showing them off in private: peeling your shirt off slow, eyes locked on yours while he tells you exactly how perfect they are, how nobody else gets to see them like this.
Possessive as hell—he’ll mark them up with hickeys high enough that only a low neckline would reveal them, a silent claim that makes him grin wider when you try to cover them later.
When you ride him, he’s got both hands full, gripping, teasing, watching them move with every roll of your hips while he talks filthy: “All mine. Look at ya—fuck—made just for me.”
Even when he’s got you bent over, he’s reaching around to palm one, pinching just to hear you gasp his name. Quickies in the cockpit of his jet? He’s got you pressed against the controls, mouth on your chest before he even gets inside you. Hal doesn’t share, doesn’t hesitate, and sure as hell doesn’t hide it. He’s a boobs man, loud and proud, and he’ll make damn sure you never forget who they belong to.
ROY HARPER
Ass. Full stop. And yeah, he’s a pervert about it, unapologetically.
Roy doesn’t just like it, he’s downright devoted. The man’s got a reputation for being a little rough around the edges, and that carries straight into the bedroom.
He loves watching you walk away just so he can grab a handful, smirking as he pulls you back against him with a low, “Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” His hands are always drifting south, squeezing over your jeans during movie nights, sliding under your skirt at the worst possible moments, whispering filthy praise about how good you look bent over anything.
When things heat up, he’s got one goal: getting you face-down, ass up. He’ll spread you open slow, groaning like he’s starving the second he sees you, then dive in like it’s his last meal.
Roy’s a certified ass eater: messy, enthusiastic, no shame. Tongue flat and dragging, lips sucking, fingers digging into your cheeks to hold you exactly where he wants while you squirm and moan into the sheets. He gets off on the sounds you make, on feeling you shake against his mouth, and he’ll stay there until you’re begging him to stop (or begging for more, he’s good either way).
Even when he finally slides inside you from behind, he’s still obsessed: one hand gripping your hip, the other palming or spanking just to watch it jiggle. He’s the type to pull out mid-thrust, spread you again, and go right back to eating you out like he can’t help himself. After? He’s collapsing next to you, grinning like an idiot, tracing lazy circles on your ass while muttering, “Best view in the world.”
WALLY WEST
Both. And he’s greedy enough to prove it every single time.
Wally doesn’t choose because he literally doesn’t have to. Super speed means he can worship your tits and your ass in the same breath, sometimes literally. One second he’s got you on your back, mouth latched onto your nipple, moaning into your skin like he’s starving; the next he’s flipped you over without warning, hands spreading your cheeks so he can bury his face there, tongue already working like he’s been thinking about it for hours (because he has).
He’ll vibrate his fingers against your clit while he’s sucking on your breasts, then blur down to eat you out from behind so fast you barely register the switch, just the sudden overwhelming pleasure hitting you from every angle at once.
You’ll be mid-gasp from him pinching your nipples and suddenly he’s spanking your ass red, grinning against your thigh because “both deserve my attention, babe.”
Missionary? He’s motorboating like his life depends on it. Doggy? He’s pulling your hips back hard enough to leave handprints, watching your ass bounce while telling you how fucking perfect it is. Cowgirl? Best of both worlds—he’s got one hand squeezing your breast, the other gripping your ass to help you grind harder, eyes flicking between the two like he can’t decide what view he likes more (he never does).
Post-nut clarity doesn’t exist for Wally. He’ll flop down beside you, still catching his breath, one hand lazily cupping your tit, the other tracing circles on your ass cheek, murmuring, “Maybe round three for balance?”
TIM DRAKE
Boobs. Specifically yours. And he’s completely, hopelessly obsessed.
Tim wasn’t exactly inexperienced when you got together, but you were the first person who ever let him really touch, really look, really lose himself in them.
The first time you guided his hands under your shirt, his breath hitched like he’d forgotten how lungs worked. He stared wide-eyed, flushed red from his ears down, fingers trembling as he traced the curve like he was memorizing holy scripture. That moment rewired his brain permanently.
Now? He’s addicted in the quiet, intense way only Tim can be. He doesn’t grope you in public like some of the others (he’s too controlled for that) but the second you’re alone, his hands are magnetized to your chest.
He’ll pull you into his lap during late-night research sessions, nose buried in case files until you shift, and then his focus is gone. Notebook forgotten, he’s sliding both hands up your shirt, cupping you gently at first, thumbs brushing over your nipples while he murmurs, “Just… need this for a minute.” (It’s never a minute.)
He loves the weight of them in his palms, the way they move when you’re on top riding him slow. He’ll mouth at them for hours if you let him: soft kisses, careful licks, sucking marks into the tops where clothes will hide them but he’ll still know they’re there.
When he’s stressed or overworked (which is always), he’ll crawl into bed, rest his head on your chest, and just stay there, hand idly stroking while your heartbeat calms him down better than any meditation app.
And yeah, he gets possessive about it in his own understated way. If anyone else even jokes about your body, his jaw tightens and he changes the subject fast. Because those are his: his to hold, his to kiss, his to bury his face in when the world gets too loud. You were the first person who let him see, touch, feel this, and Tim doesn’t forget milestones like that.
If you look close enough, you might see a wagging tail and perked up dog ears on his head when you thank him, whether its for him shielding you from an attack or simply holding the door open for you, his eyes soften and he bites his lip in an attempt to stop the dopey grin threatening to overtake his face (he fails). A “you did good” from you is enough to raise his spirits, any fatigue he once felt now gone. Everyone notices his doglike behaviour, even himself. But he’s more than happy to act like a stray begging for scraps of affection when it comes to you. (Please stroke his head—)
Booster Gold, Johnny Storm (“Who’s my good boy?” “ME!”), Roy Harper, Kyle Rayner (Plans out things to do to impress you the night before and gets disheartened when you seem indifferent and refuses to tell you why he’s in such a mood), Kurt Wagner (his tail physically reacts to your praise causing his cheeks to darken, yet his grin remains bright; a devoted man)
He laughs it off, partly due to not being willing to completely accept the compliment and casually redirects your attention. Later, he replays your words and finds himself wanting to hear more from you, even if he thinks you’re being a bit too generous with him. It’s not that he’s unused to praise, but it feels more…precious coming from you. Subconsciously starts trying to appeal to you more through acts of service or bringing you food and trinkets, and then waves off your thanks despite the satisfied look on his face.
Ted Kord (your personal IT guy but tells you that you give him heart palpitations every time you thank him), Barry Allen, Dick Grayson, Peter Parker, Wade Wilson
His thoughts and even body come to a screeching halt at your words, not expecting to hear you commend him so earnestly, suddenly feeling a rising heat at the back of his neck. He doesn’t even know why he’s going through a hard reboot right now, it’s not that he’s never been complimented before (well, maybe he might be in need of a little more love these days…), but your words fill him with a bashful sort of pride. Awkwardly compliments you back but it comes off more clumsy than intended, but at least you’re laughing.
Jean Paul Valley, Scott Summers, Bucky Barnes
He accepts your praise rather easily, the tone of your conversation remaining casual, but your words settle somewhere deep in his chest, solid and clear. He feels warm, almost like you’ve left a mark on him. So, when people notice his smiles come out more effortlessly and his shoulders have lost some tension… well, that’s something he’ll keep between you and him.
Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Bruce Wayne, Logan Howlett, Marc Spector
Just smiles and says ‘and?’, moving closer before he tries to coax out more honeyed words, nose brushing against yours, as he tilts his head coyly. Don’t get shy on him now, he likes it when you’re sweet, it makes him greedy for more but you knew that, didn’t you? So when his fingers begin tracing patterns over your waist, don’t be surprised if he ends up asking for a little more than praise.
Hal Jordan, Wally West, Matt Murdock, Remy Lebeau
It goes to his head (…both of them) but you’re more than aware of that, and maybe you’ve taken advantage of that fact before but he’s also aware of that and is more than willing to play into your hand. But sometimes when every inch of his exposed skin is covered in scratches and bruises, his hair a tussled mess, you soften, words kinder and smile a little more genuine, and he leans into your touch, quiet for maybe the first time in his life.
Guy Gardner, Pietro Maximoff
“Um, anyway—“ Scoffs and throws in a teasing remark for good measure, but even after he redirects your attention, he feels guilty, that you think you’re beginning to really know him, see the best in him, the part of him that’s a hero, but he’s more than familiar with this scenario. He’ll disappoint you eventually. It’s what he does best, after all. He can only try to soften the blow.
Clint Barton
You smack his ass and claim it’s a compliment. He stares back at you with dead eyes.
John Stewart (could have at least gotten him some coffee first…), Bruce Wayne, Logan Howlett (gets you back as soon as your turn your back), Scott Summers (did you have to do it during a team debriefing), Marc Spector (will get you back, and the suspense may kill you)
You end up repeating something you’ve said during sex before (“good boy”, saying ‘thank you’ with a certain tone, etc) and he excuses himself with flushed face. You end up bookmarking this delightful tidbit and torment him with it.
Jason Todd, Jean Paul Valley (don’t be surprised if he gets his revenge if you push him too far)
You’ve inadvertently conditioned him. Continues to make your life easier by doing chores and trying to pamper you in attempt to get his fix. You tell him his hair looks nice, and he starts rubbing your shoulders. You might break him if you ever forget to praise him. Pavlov would be proud.
Booster Gold, Ted Kord, Guy Gardner, Johnny Storm, Peter Parker (the only one to realize what you’ve done, but quickly accepts his fate), Bucky Barnes
Pulls a reversal and ends up saying something so heartfelt and specific, you end up being the one that gets flustered.
Wally West, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock (makes it his mission to always leave you weak in the knees with just his mouth—), Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner (his gaze is so tender, your heart almost explodes.)
The first time you met him, you expressed your admiration and he immediately fell in love.
Guy Gardner (after you get to know him more you find yourself regretting acting so starstruck because he won’t let you live it down), Wade Wilson
Finds himself in perpetual loop of you saying something nice to him and him becoming too tongue tied to saying anything back. This happens several more times before he’s able to gain a resistance to your casual praise and actually try to charm you.
Barry Allen, Kyle Rayner, Roy Harper
Mind blanks if you give him a sincere compliment and ends up saying something weird (and maybe inappropriate) back. Yes, he’s aware of his own idiocy.
Clint Barton, Pietro Maximoff (Wanda is disappointed but not surprised)
⠀⠀⠀ asking them if your future kid will look like you or them…
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀— fem!reader, established relationships,pregnancy, breeding kink on roys, sex talk with the guys
⠀⠀⠀ ↳ 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗌: bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ clark kent, roy harper, hal jordan
⟢ 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: another smau but this one is bad😓😓 IM SORRY GUYS. life has been so busy and i barely have time and the motivation to sit my butt down and write but i have ideas okay! they just need to come out…
Angsty Request: DC characters(Roll the dice if you wanna do multi or just choose a random) reacting to Reader’s insecurity about being average. Like surrounded by so many people who are amazing at so many things, they don’t have anything that makes them “stand out” or “special”
Ordinary
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PAIRINGS: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Wally West, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Roy Harper
requests are open
It starts, like most things do, small.
A comment at a party. Someone saying oh, you're with him? What do you do? And you'd answered, and watched their face do the thing — the polite thing, the oh, that's nice thing — before they turned back to the person next to you who cured diseases or broke land speed records or could benchpress a building.
You don't say anything about it. It's fine. It's always fine.
It's just that fine has been accumulating for a while.
DICK
Dick finds out the way Dick finds out everything, which is by paying attention when you think he isn't.
You're at one of Bruce's Foundation galas, standing slightly to the left of where the conversation is happening, and Dick is watching you from across the room the way he watches things that matter to him — not obviously, not intrusively, just present in the specific way of someone who has made you his business.
He sees the moment. The woman is talking about her research. The colleague is talking about his company. The way you smile and contribute, and then go slightly, barely, quiet when someone asks the table what everyone does.
He's next to you before you've finished your answer.
His hand finds the small of your back. Not drawing attention. Just there.
Later, in the car, he doesn't say anything immediately. Dick knows when to wait.
"I'm boring," you say, to the window. You hadn't planned to say it. It just came out.
"You're not boring," he says.
"I'm not interesting. Not like — not like them. Not like any of you."
Dick is quiet for a moment.
"Can I tell you something?" he says.
"Don't."
"I'm going to anyway." He glances at you. "I grew up performing. Literally. I was on a trapeze before I could read properly. And then I was Robin, and then I was Nightwing, and my whole life has been about being something extraordinary in front of other people." He pauses. "You know what I wanted, for years, more than anything?"
You don't answer.
"Someone who was just there," he says. "Not performing. Not proving something. Just — present. Real." He takes your hand. "You are the only person in my life who makes me feel like I don't have to be anything other than Richard Grayson. Do you understand how rare that is? Do you understand what that's worth?"
You don't say anything.
"You're not boring," Dick says. "You're the only real thing I've got. That's not nothing. That's everything."
JASON
Jason is the wrong person to be subtle with, and you know it, which is why you don't try.
You say it flat, one night, while he's cleaning his helmet and you're sitting on the kitchen counter: "I don't know what I bring to the table. With you. In general."
He stops.
Puts the helmet down.
Turns to look at you with the expression he gets when he's deciding how to handle something he wasn't expecting.
"Where is this coming from," he says. Not a question.
"Everywhere." You look at your hands. "You're — you're you. And everyone around us is extraordinary. And I'm just — I'm here. I'm regular. I have nothing that — "
"Stop," he says.
"Jason — "
"I said stop." He crosses to where you're sitting, and he's close now, and his voice isn't angry, but it's firm in the way that means he means it. "You want to know what you bring to the table?"
You look at him.
"You don't flinch," he says. "You know what I am. You know everything — the pit, the Joker, the kill list, all of it — and you don't flinch. You don't look at me like I'm a problem to be managed or a tragedy to be fixed." His jaw is tight. "Do you have any idea how many people have looked at me like that? Every single person who matters to me. Everyone." He exhales. "Not you. Never you."
'That's just — that's just me not being scared of you — "
"That's not just anything," he says. "That's everything. You being unafraid of me is the thing that let me stop being afraid of myself."
He doesn't say things like that often. When he does, he means them the way buildings mean their foundations.
"You're not average," Jason says. "You're the bravest person I know. You just don't have a costume for it."
TIM
Tim approaches it like Tim approaches everything, which is logically, and initially, this is the wrong approach.
"There's no objective metric for being extraordinary," he says when you tell him. "The concept is relative and largely socially constructed — "
"Tim."
"I'm just saying that the framing of the question is — "
"Tim, I don't want a philosophical deconstruction. I feel like I'm not special. I feel like I don't belong in this world you all live in."
He stops.
He looks at you.
Tim Drake, to his credit, knows when he's made an error and corrects it fast.
"You're right," he says. "I'm sorry. That was — I went analytical because I don't know how to handle thinking about you feeling like that.' He sits down next to you. 'Can I try again?"
"Yeah," you say.
"You are the most perceptive person I have ever met," he says. "And I live with people who solve crimes for fun. You understand people — actually understand them, not just analyze them — in a way I've spent years trying to learn and still can't." He looks at you seriously. "You understood me. In like three weeks. That took Alfred years. That took Dick decades. You did it in three weeks."
"That's just — paying attention — "
"So is detective work," Tim says. "You just use it differently. You use it to make people feel known." He pauses. "I have never felt as known by anyone as I do by you. That is not a small thing. For me specifically, that is the largest possible thing."
You're quiet.
"You belong here," Tim says. "You belong with me. Those are the same thing, and they're both completely true."
DAMIAN
Damian doesn't find out because you tell him.
Damian finds out because he's Damian, and Damian notices everything, and files it, and brings it up at a time of his choosing, which is never the time you'd choose.
It's three weeks after a League of Assassins gala, of all things, where you'd spent an evening surrounded by people who could kill with seventeen different household objects, and you'd smiled and made conversation and felt comprehensively unremarkable.
You've mostly moved on. You think.
"You've been doing the thing," Damian says, out of nowhere, not looking up from his sketchbook.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you're present but you've decided you're not significant."
You stare at him.
He looks up. His expression is its usual composed, unimpressed default, but his eyes are doing something different. Something that, on anyone else, you'd call careful.
"I don't do a — "
"You've done it consistently since the Al-Ghul event," he says. "Which I should have addressed sooner. I was determining the correct approach."
"And what approach did you determine?"
Damian puts down the sketchbook. He turns to face you fully, which means this is serious.
"I was raised to believe that worth is determined by ability," he says. "By skill. By measurable superiority." A pause. "I was raised incorrectly."
You blink.
"You have no combat training. No powers. No particular strategic credentials." He says this without cruelty, just precision. "And yet you are the only person whose opinion I seek. The only person in whose presence I do not feel the need to perform capability." He holds your gaze. "You make me want to be better. Not because you've demanded it. Simply by existing as you are. By being decent, and kind, and entirely without artifice."
"Damian — "
"That is not average," he says. "That is exceptionally rare. I have met very few people who could survive my family's world and emerge kinder for it." He picks the sketchbook back up. "You are not ordinary. You are precisely the kind of person the extraordinary cannot manufacture, no matter how hard they try."
He goes back to sketching.
The subject is closed.
Except: you notice, later, that what he's drawing is you.
WALLY
Wally West has a lot of feelings and very little ability to not immediately express all of them at top volume, which is usually either the best or worst quality in a person, depending on the situation.
In this situation, it's the best.
"Okay, no," he says when you finish talking. "Nope. Absolutely not. We're not doing this."
"Wally — "
"You feel average? You? You feel average?" He is already pacing, which at Wally speed means he's basically vibrating in place. "You know what average looks like? I am surrounded by people who move at the speed of light and punch satellites, and I still think you're the most impressive person in any room you walk into. Do you know why?"
"Because you love me and you're biased — "
"Yes, and also because it's true." He stops pacing. He comes to stand in front of you with that Wally energy that's always slightly too big for indoor spaces, warm and earnest and completely unguarded. "You know what I think about when everything gets too fast? When it's too loud and too much, and the speed is more curse than gift?"
You don't answer.
"You," he says. "The way you move through a room like you've got all the time in the world. The way nothing seems to panic you. The way you slow everything down just by being there." He takes your hands. "I need you to understand that I run at the speed of sound and you are the only thing that makes me want to stop."
You look at him.
"You're not average," he says, serious for once, fully serious, the Barry Allen seriousness underneath all the Wally West noise. "You are the stillness I can't make myself. That's not a small thing. That's the whole thing."
ROY
Roy doesn't do speeches. Roy does honesty, which is sometimes messier but always lands harder.
"Yeah, I get it," he says when you tell him.
Which is not what you expected.
"You get it," you repeat.
"I've spent half my life next to Oliver Queen, who is generationally talented and also happens to be a superhero. And then Ollie's best friend is literally the fastest man alive." He leans back. "I know what it feels like to be the regular one. Trust me, I have a PhD in it."
"Then you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," he says. "And I also know it's wrong." He looks at you levelly. "You know what nobody ever talks about? How hard it is to love people like us. People who disappear at two in the morning. Who comes back banged up and won't explain why. Who carries things they can't put down and take it out sideways?" His voice is even. "Most people leave. They can't handle it. And I don't blame them, it's a lot."
'Roy — "
"You stayed," he says. "That's not average. Staying with someone like me — staying with any of us — takes something most people don't have." He meets your eyes. "You want to know what you bring to the table? You make a life possible. An actual life. Not just a mission. Not just a cover identity." He exhales. "I didn't know I needed that. Turns out it's the only thing I actually needed."
You're quiet for a long time.
"You're not the regular one," Roy says. "You're the one who makes the rest of it worth it. There's a difference."
HAL
Hal Jordan's entire personality is confidence, which he sometimes actually has, which means he knows exactly how it sounds when someone's running low on it.
He hears it in you before you finish the sentence.
"Hey," he says, cutting you off gently. "Come back."
"I'm here."
"You're here, but you're doing the thing where you've already decided something, and you're just telling me the conclusion." He sits down across from you. "Start from the beginning."
So you do. You tell him about the feeling — the accumulation of it, the galas and the team-ups and the moments of standing next to someone extraordinary and being, by comparison, just there.
Hal listens. Hal is better at listening than anyone would guess, given everything else about him.
"You know what I've learned," he says, when you're done, "from having a ring that runs on willpower?"
"What?"
"Will isn't about being extraordinary. It's about deciding something matters and not letting go of that decision." He looks at you. "That's it. That's the whole thing. There's no talent component. There's no special gene. It's just — you decide, and you hold on."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Because you have that," he says simply. "You have it more than most people I know, and I've literally flown through space with some of the most willful beings in the universe." He tilts his head. "You decided this relationship was worth it. You decided to stay in this world, with all of its chaos and its danger and its complete inability to function normally. You decided, and you held on."
"That's not — that's not the same as — "
"It's exactly the same." His voice is quiet and certain in the way that Hal Jordan rarely is, the way underneath all the bravado. "The ring would choose you. I know it would. It picks the ones who don't quit." He reaches over. "You've never quit. Not on me, not on any of us. That's extraordinary. You've just never called it that."
CLARK
Clark is the hardest to tell, because Clark is Clark, and you spend three weeks not saying it.
He notices at week two. He waits until you're ready.
When you finally say it — quietly, sitting on the apartment floor because you'd slid down the wall and hadn't bothered moving — you say: I just don't see what I am to all of this. What I contribute. What makes me matter in a world full of people who change things?
Clark sits down on the floor next to you.
He doesn't say anything immediately.
Clark is the most powerful being on the planet, and he uses that silence like it's something gentle.
"Can I tell you something?" he says, finally.
"If it's about how everyone is valuable in their own way, I'm going to — "
"It's not," he says. "It's about Smallville."
You wait.
"I grew up knowing what I was," he says. "Knowing I was different. And I spent a long time thinking that the power was the point — that what made me matter was what I could do that no one else could." He looks at the middle distance. "And then I got older, and I met people — journalists, farmers, teachers, ordinary people living ordinary lives — who were good in a way that had nothing to do with ability. Who showed up, every day, for the people around them. Who made things better not by being extraordinary but by being decent."
"Clark — "
"Those people changed my life more than the ability ever did," he says. "Being good is not a small thing. Being kind is not a small thing. Being the person who shows up, who stays, who loves without needing to be exceptional — " He looks at you. "That is the hardest thing I have ever encountered. Harder than anything I can lift."
He takes your hand.
"I have never once looked at you and seen someone who doesn't matter," he says. "I have looked at you and seen the kind of person I try to be. The kind of person I'm not sure I've managed yet." A pause. "You are not less than us. You are, in many ways, the thing we're trying to become."
The floor is still the floor. Nothing has changed technically.
But Clark is sitting on it with you, and somehow that makes the distance between ordinary and everything else feel much, much smaller.
