#guy gardner x reader

[froggibus]

— Just Friends

Includes: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Roy Harper, Kyle Rayner, Barry Allen, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen & Guy Gardner

Summary: he says you're just friends, but when he catches you with someone else, he can't bear it

Content/CW -> gn! reader, fwb! guys, jealousy & possessiveness, flirting, cursing, slightly suggestive, brucie wayne cameo

froggi yaps -> it's been so long since i did a multi-fic i feel like these lowkey suck :,) i had some planned for the other guys (jason, booster, bruce, clark, constantine) but couldn't commit to doing them rn </3 if this one does good tho i can do another part ^^ hope you guys enjoy

Dick Grayson (Roy):

Dick’s jaw drops when you walk into the bar, greeting your table of friends with a little wave before settling on Roy’s lap. Roy’s lap. His hand tightens around his glass.

The redhead raises his eyebrows, instinctively placing a hand on your hip to steady you. He tilts his head up, flashing you an easy grin. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say casually, grabbing his glass of ginger ale and sipping on it. 

In your peripheral, you can see Dick’s jaw clenched, fingers digging into his palms. Roy rubs his thumb in circles around your hip, ignoring the inquisitive stares coming from your friends. 

You watch as Dick downs his whole drink and forces a smile. A breath, and then he’s back to normal, making conversation with Donna across the table.

The night is normal after that, laced with jokes and easy conversation. It’s so normal you’re beginning to think Dick’s forgotten about your antics now that you’ve moved from Roy’s lap to the seat between them.

It’s when you’re on your way out of the bathroom that shit hits the fan.

“So, you and Roy?”

He’s standing in the small nook where the bathroom doors lay, looking at you expectantly. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles bulging out of his t-shirt.

You flinch at the sound of his voice, hand clenched over your chest in shock. You recover quickly. “Why do you care? We’re just friends, aren’t we?” 

“Friends? I—” He laughs incredulously. “Is this because of what I said?”

You scoff and shake your head, shoving past him only for him to catch you by the arm. 

“C’mon, don’t be like this,” he pleads. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You spin around to face him. “Then how did you mean it, Dick?” 

“I just meant that we aren’t dating.”

“So why does it matter so much to you if I flirt with Roy?”

He looks puzzled, brows knit together as he tries to find an answer for your question that doesn’t involve him confessing his feelings for you in the back of a bar. He doesn’t find one.

“I-I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair, “we’re not just friends, alright? It was—it was stupid for me to say that. Just, please stop flirting with my best friend.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Good to know.”

You retreat to the bar, getting another drink, while Dick returns to the table. You give it a few minutes, letting him stew before making your way back.

You’re about to sit back down on Roy when Dick catches your wrist, tugging you towards him. You stumble, falling into his lap. Your eyes widen, looking up at him curiously.

“No chance in hell,” he mutters into your ear, “nice try.”

Roy flashes you a thumbs up under the table. Mission accomplished.

Wally West (Kyle):

Wally’s clenching his glass so tightly it might break. 

Standing in the corner of the bar, leaned against the wall and watching you dance with Kyle of all people, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to toss the glass at his head. It’s a tempting thought, Wally’s fingers wandering up the side of the glass.

It’s payback. He knows it is. He hurt your feelings and now you’re taking it out on him via grinding on Kyle. It’s whatever. He’s not going to fall for it. Whatever.

It’s when the song ends and you press yourself real close to Kyle, laughing in his ear about something he said, that Wally really loses it. One minute, Kyle has a hand on your hip, basking in the radiant sound of your laughter, and the next, you’re gone.

The cold night air is unforgiving, clinging to the sweat soaking your skin. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.

You scowl at the redhead who dragged you out here. “What the hell, Wally?” 

He paces the alleyway in front of you, long strides casting dark shadows across the brick wall of the club. He has a hand in his hair, the other fidgeting nervously.

“Kyle? Really?” He laughs humourlessly, “he can’t even dance.”

“He dances better than you.”

Wally’s jaw falls open in offense as he clamps a hand over his chest. 

“Why do you care, anyway? We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, cause friends fuck the way we do.”

It’s your turn to be shocked, turning your head away from him to try and hide it. “You’re—” You take a deep breath, fighting the heat rising to your face, “you’re the one who said we’re friends.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just—just go and fuck Kyle!”

You shake your head. “We’re not fucking, Wally. We’re dancing.”

You turn away from him, starting to leave the alleyway to get back in the club. Still, you can’t help yourself. “But, now that you mention it…”

Wally’s in front of you before you’ve finished blinking. He’s breathing heavily, a dark look in his eyes. He presses closer to you, squeezing out all the space.

“Don’t,” he breathes, “fuck Kyle.”

Something in his tone tells you to tread lightly. Something in your core tells you to press him more.

“Yeah? And what if I d—”

Wally’s lips are on yours before you finish speaking, his hands settling into your waist like they belong there. They roam your sides, feeling every inch of you. His tongue slips into your mouth, marking his territory. 

He pulls away, looking at you seriously. “Come home with me, I’ll show you how friendly we are.”

Back in the club, Kyle smiles to himself. Your plan must have worked.

Roy Harper (Dick):

Roy almost faints when he walks in the living room, a necessary stop on his journey to grab a glass of water, and finds you and Dick snuggled up on the couch. He rubs his eyes, thinking this must be a result of a nightmare, but when the stars dissipate from his vision, the two of you are still laying there.

You’re face down in Dick’s chest, your head buried in his t-shirt. Dick’s laid down on his back, watching a movie while idly rubbing your back. It’s so domestic that it has Roy’s heart wrenching, his mouth suddenly dry.

Dick notices the redhead immediately, cheekily raising a finger to his lips to signal him to be quiet. He gestures to you with his eyes, putting emphasis on the fact you’re trying to rest.

Roy, with frustration bubbling up in his chest, does not give a fuck. “What are you guys watching? You look cozy.”

And just like that, your head is perking up, puffy eyes landing on Roy. There’s dried tears on your cheek, the skin around your eyes still wet and shiny from crying. Shit. 

“I didn’t—fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You push yourself away from Dick’s chest, untangling your body from his. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

Roy only nods, not wanting to say anything else and risk upsetting you. You lead him back to your room, the gesture so familiar it has your heart hurting.

“Literally what is your problem?” Your voice is thick with tears, “can’t you leave me alone? Since we’re ‘just friends’.”

“You’re crying,” is all that he says, evidently stunned by your disheveled state. “Is that why you’re crying? Because of what I said?”

“Does it matter?”

His voice cracks. “You’re sad, of course it matters.”

You avert your eyes, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. Drawing your arms around yourself, you take a big step away from Roy. Like that will be able to keep this conversation from happening.

“It hurt when you said that, Roy.”

“So you go and cuddle up with Dick?”

“Jesus Christ.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “he’s my friend. He was comforting me. And last I checked, according to you, friends do a lot worse than cuddle.”

He sucks in a breath. Touché. 

“You either care or you don’t, Roy. Make up your damn mind.”

“I care, okay?” He runs a hand through his hair, “I care too much to see my best friend using you as a blanket.”

“But not enough to date me?”

He takes a deep breath and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to leave. If he’s going to storm out and leave you here and never speak to you again. Instead, he does something that surprises you even more.

He drops to his knees in front of you, looking up at you through his lashes. He says your name, reaching up for a hand. Reluctantly, you peel a hand from your shoulder and offer it to him.

“There is nothing I want more,” he says seriously, “than to be with you.”

Your vision blurs with tears. “You mean it? No more mixed feelings?”

He kisses the back of your hand. “Promise.”

Kyle Rayner (Guy): 

Kyle doesn’t think anything of it when you don’t respond to his good morning text. Barely even notices it when you choose to sit next to Guy instead of him. Forced himself to ignore the way you seemed glued to the ginger all day. But this? This—seductively biting your nail while rubbing a hand up Guy’s chest—cannot stand.

He stands in the corner and watches the two of you flirt, waiting for his time to interject. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, fingers clenched to his palms. Any minute now, there’ll be a lull in the conversation and he could pull you aside to talk this out. 

‘Any minute’ doesn’t come for at least another ten minutes, your rampant flirting with his partner only growing to annoy him more and more. He’s pacing now, twisting the ring around his finger.

“Jeez, Rayner, can you cut that out? You’re making me nervous.”

Guy’s voice grates on him, adrenaline pumping through his chest. Kyle forces himself to take a deep breath, to think reassuring thoughts and then—

“Ignore him, he doesn’t know what he wants.”

It’s something in your tone that sets him off, that has him creating a bucket of water and dumping it over the top of you and Guy. He’s barely even registered he’s done it until you’re turning on him with a scowl, looking like a wet cat.

“Really, Kyle?” You scoff, “real mature. I’m soaking wet.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You ignore Guy’s innuendo, rushing out of the room to go and dry yourself off in the bathroom. You’ve pulled off your shirt, holding it under the hand dryer, when the door swings open and Kyle’s coming in and stammering an apology.

He barely pays any mind to your half-naked figure, too busy talking himself in circles. “I don’t know what came over me, seriously.” He tugs off his sweatshirt, tossing it to you to cover yourself up. “I’m so sorry.”

You catch his sweater, your own ruined shirt dropping to the floor. “No you’re not.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“What do you want, Kyle?” You pull his sweatshirt over your head, “you say we’re just friends and then you get all weird and jealous when I try to move on. It’s bullshit.”

And Kyle’s at a loss for words because you look so fucking cute in his sweatshirt, hair still damp and messy from the water. 

“And you’re not even listening to me.” 

You shoulder past him, about to leave the bathroom when he suddenly grabs your hand and spins you around to face him. He says nothing, only tugging you into his chest and holding you tightly.

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to be just your friend.”

You nod slowly, letting his words sink in. And just as he’s pulling away, you squish your hand into one of your wet pockets, gathering the water and wiping it on the back of his neck.

Kyle cringes, loosening his grip. “I deserved that.”

Barry Allen (Hal):

Six laps. Barry’s done six laps of the planet, changed in and out of his costume in the bathroom, and eaten an entire burger in the time you and Hal have been playing pool. It’s not the game that bothers him, really. It’s the way Hal has his hands on you, bending you over the table and pressing himself into you.

The sight ties Barry’s stomach up in knots, the deluxe bacon cheeseburger he just devoured threatening to come up again. He sits back, watching the two of you play a game against Ollie and Dinah and trying to keep the jealousy from rising to his throat.

It should be him down there. Those should be his hands wandering too close to your chest. He’s about to take another lap when Hal’s crotch is suddenly flush with the swell of your ass and he can’t take it anymore.

One minute, he’s sitting on a bar stool and the next, the two of you are standing on a beach somewhere far, far away from Hal Jordan.

“Barry?” You frown, adjusting to your surroundings, “where are we?”

“...Brazil.”

“Brazil? I—why are we in Brazil?”

“Because Hal isn’t,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Because I need to talk to you.”

You blink. “And you needed to talk to me in Brazil?”

“Can you forget about Brazil for a minute?” He sighs, “can I—am I allowed to ask what’s going on between you and Hal?”

You burst out laughing. “Me and Hal?” “...yes? I don’t see what’s funny about this.”

You reach for one of his hands, kneading your thumbs over his warm palm. “Barry, nothing’s going on between me and Hal. What you saw—” You scrunch your nose, embarrassed, “I was trying to get your attention.”

“You always have my attention.”

“I don’t want to be ‘just a friend’, Barry,” you confess, looking at him through your lashes. “Friends don’t do the things we do.”

Realization dawns on his face, his lips tugging into a frown. “No, that’s not—I didn’t mean it like that. God, I’m an idiot.”

You think back to the conversation in question, wracking your brain to decipher what else he could’ve possibly meant by that wording.

He rubs a thumb over your cheek, leaning in until his lips are inches away from yours. “You could never be ‘just’ anything to me. You mean so much to me and I—”

You cut him off by kissing him, swallowing his words.

Hal Jordan (Bruce):

Of all the people Hal expected to find you flirting with, Bruce Wayne was the last on his list. Guy? Absolutely. Barry, Clark, Diana…he wouldn’t cross off the possibility. But Bruce? That would almost be as bad as if you were cozied up to J’onn himself.

You offer Bruce a radiant smile, resting a hand on his shoulder while he tells you and a few other stragglers from Oliver’s charity gala a story. You cling to his every word, nodding along eagerly.

Hal clenches his fist and raises his glass to his lips, downing the whiskey in one go. Adrenaline, or liquor, or maybe some unholy combination of the two rushes to his head. He finds himself stomping over to the little group that’s formed around Bruce.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he sidles up next to you and flashes the group a fake smile. “You guys don’t mind if I borrow y/n for a minute, do you?”

He’s already starting to tug you away when he’s met with resistance, Bruce’s other arm looped through yours.

“Actually,” he says, giving Hal an even faker, even shinier smile, “I promised I’d show everyone the pictures from my newest Gotham development.”

Hal yawns, addressing you directly. “You don’t really want to see that, do you?”

Bruce’s hand slides from the crook of your arm to the small of your back. A vein bulges in Hal’s forehead. His frown deepens when you pull yourself away from him, sidling up to Bruce.

“Actually, I’d love to see those photos, Bruce.”

Hal shrinks, defeated. He hates the sudden cold in your tone, he hates the way you barely regard him. Above all that, he hates how good you look on Bruce’s arm.

He slinks away to a far away corner, Barry waiting with a new glass of whiskey and a comforting pat on the back.

Hal finds you an hour later, half drunk with booze heavy on his breath. You’re just finishing up a dance with Bruce when the pilot saunters up to the two of you. You suck in a breath. Here we go.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Bruce looks at you, assessing every miniscule expression on your face in less than a second. He sizes up the pilot, a silent reminder not to fuck with you.

“Do you want a drink?” Bruce asks, posture much more relaxed talking to you. “I could use a drink.”

“Yes, please.”

And then he’s disappearing into the crowd, leaving just you and Hal.

“Really? Bruce?” 

You scoff at him, tensing when his hands find your hips and he guides you back onto the dance floor. “Keep your voice down, you’re gonna make a scene.”

“I’m not the one everyone’s been drooling over tonight.” His jaw tics, “of everyone, why Batman?”

“Bruce just wanted to help me take my mind off of things. Pissing you off was just an added bonus.”

He blanks.

“You can’t really be that dense, Hal.”

He thinks on it for a minute and you can practically see the exact moment the light goes off in his head. “Is this about what I said? The friends thing?”

Your silence speaks volumes.

“Why’re you so mad about that? I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You smile sweetly. “So you wouldn’t be mad if I went home with Bruce? I wouldn’t mean anything by it.”

His grip tightens, fingers digging into the meat of your hips. He pulls you closer until his face hovers close to your ear, breath fanning over the side of your neck.

“I will cuff you to me right now. Don’t even joke.”

You intentionally step on his foot. “Admit it, then.”

“Why does it matter so much to you what we are?”

You groan, pulling yourself away from him and starting on your way back to Bruce. He grabs you before you get very far, pulling you back to him and locking his arms tighter than before.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry, okay?” His gaze softens, “I didn’t mean it. Please, please do not go home with him.”

You kiss his cheek. “That’s what I thought.”

Oliver Queen (Hal + Dinah):

Oliver thought things couldn’t get worse than seeing you and Hal hug after winning beer pong. Oliver thought wrong. 

Seeing Dinah kiss your cheek, her arms around your shoulders while the two of you pose for a photo, feels worse than any injury he’s ever received. It’s no help that the two of you look so damn good together, it’s near unbearable.

Dinah pulls away but the slight shimmer of her lipgloss is still visible on your cheek. Oliver can feel the envy bubbling up inside him like magma in a volcano. He tries to focus on something—anything—else.

He looks to Booster Gold and Blue Beetle, playing something on Ted’s Nintendo. He looks to Guy, currently having a very intense conversation with J’onn who looks like he’d rather be doing anything else. 

It doesn’t work, he always finds a way to come back to you. Always. 

You and Dinah are now wrapped up in a conversation with Hal and Barry, the smile on your face glowing brighter than the sun. He should be there, standing at your side, talking proudly. Instead, he’s lurking in the corner, watching from afar and trying to pretend his blood isn’t boiling.

And then Dinah’s hand rests on the small of your back and he can’t take it anymore.

He clears his throat, approaching you. “I need to talk to you.”

No pleasantries, no sugarcoating it, nothing. He doesn’t even bother to hide his annoyed expression.

Dinah flashes you a knowing smirk, nudging you towards him slightly. “Go on.”

Ollie leads you away from your gathered comrades, from the overlapping chatter and swell of bodies. He’s just barely gotten you out of view when he’s slamming you against the wall and pressing his lips to yours.

He can taste the remnants of your dirty shirley temple, along with something that tastes suspiciously like Dinah’s usual lipgloss. He thumbs at your waist, slipping a leg between your thighs and pressing his chest further into yours.

You gasp, shoving him off of you. “Ollie, I—what—I—”

He’s breathing heavily, feet planted less than a foot away from you. His cheeks are pinkened from your impromptu makeout session, his beard just barely hiding how flustered he is.

“What was that for?” You frown, “there’s people around.”

“And?”

“And?” You scoff in disbelief, “and you said you didn’t want anyone to know and that we’re nothing more than friends?”

“Fuck that,” he growls, reaching for you again. “You’re mine.”

Heat washes into your core, travels up your spine, floods your cheeks. You’re suddenly feeling lightheaded, unsteady on your feet.

“You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he admits. “Do you want me, or not?”

You sigh, beckoning him in. Defeated.

Guy Gardner (Booster):

Pretty much every hero you’ve worked with was confused by your relationship with Guy. It was clear the two of you had something going on, not that any of them were brave enough to inquire about it. No one thought too much about it.

That is, until you started cozying up to Booster Gold. As if Guy Gardner wasn’t bad enough.

Guy tried to ignore it. He really, really did. He tried to play it up to himself. At least this way he could see other people, too. He didn’t have to worry about hurting your feelings or dealing with jealousy. And yet, despite his sudden freedom, he couldn’t get you out of his damn head.

Maybe that’s what led him here, outside your house at two in the morning, banging his fist on the door.

Booster Gold answers the door, buttery hair disheveled and shirt nowhere in sight. “Hey, Guy.” He blinks, eyes shooting wide, “oh, shit.”

His jaw clenches, something snapping behind his eyes. Guy shoves past him, barrelling his way into your house. Booster rushes after him, trying to catch him before he slams open your bedroom door.

You wake with a start, rubbing your tired eyes to face your attacker. “Oh,” you say casually, sitting up. “It’s just you.”

Michael’s head pops over his shoulder. “I tried to stop him.”

“You tried your best, sir.” Skeets pipes up.

“Like you could,” Guy scoffs. “What the hell is he doing here, anyway?”

“Spending the night? What does it look like he’s doing?” Your response does little to quell the angry look on his face. Guy clenches and unclenches his fists.

“What are you doing here? I’m sure whatever this is could’ve waited til morning.”

He ignores you. “Are you guys fucking?” You laugh humorlessly.

Booster slinks away, “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

Your shoulders slump when you watch the familiar head of gold hair disappear back into your living room, presumably resuming his residence on your couch.

Guy crosses his arms, looking at you expectantly. “Well?”

“It’s none of your damn business, really.”

He closes the door behind him, stepping closer to you in the dark of your room. “Does he make you cum? I bet he doesn’t.”

“Jesus, Guy.”

“What? I’m just saying.” “We’re not fucking, for fucks sakes.” Your head is still fuzzy with sleep, “he’s crashing on my couch. We hang out sometimes. What’s the big deal? It’s not like we’re dating.”

He clocks the bitterness in your tone, the way your voice falters on those last words. A cheshire grin fights its way to his lips.

“So that’s why you’ve been so mad.” He’s standing at the end of your bed now, looking up at you, “cause I said we’re friends?”

“And what if it is?”

“C’mere.” Through the dark, you can just barely make out his hand gesturing you closer.

Despite your better instincts, you find yourself crawling towards him on the bed, kneeling just in front of him.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re really that upset about it?”

You can only nod.

He leans in, lips pressing against yours. You relax in his grip, letting the world fall away from you while he kisses you.

He pulls away, offering you a toothy grin. “Yeah,” he concludes, “still mine.”

dc masterlist | navigation

thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡

[earlgreylatte]

𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝘽𝙤𝙮

When you praise him.

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)

I injured my arm how am I to write now…😭

Masterlist

[356sentient-string-beans]

What I look like checking a specific X reader tag for the fourth time today, only to realize I’ve truly read everything…

This problem is more regular than you might think… and this being a problem in itself might also be an issue, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about 

[wysteria-bloom]

𓇼 " holy shit you're cute "

DC men react to you sending an embarrassing photo of them

DC characters x f!reader

Genre : SMAU, fluff, suggestive

Warnings : Very suggestive - MINORS DNI.

A/n : I haven't posted in a while ik, my inspiration for working has really went out the window ngl. I have so many ideas but everytime I write them I feel like they just suck so - I'm just doing something easy but fun to write rn and that's SMAU. Plus my fav superhero of all time just had one of the greatest movies I've ever seen come out and now I really wanna write for him so here we are. Thank you James Gunn for Superman🙏🙏

[lunarlaughs]

accidental texting

synopsis: you accidentally text the dc characters, thinking you're texting someone else, that you can't stop thinking about them including: lex, clark, jimmy, lois, michael (mr terrific), guy, kendra (hawkgirl), kara (supergirl), and bruce a/n: first smau of a long run, lets go!!!

✦ lex luthor

✦ clark kent (superman!)

✦ jimmy olsen

✦ lois lane

✦ michael holt (mr terrific!)

✦ guy gardner (green lantern!)

✦ kendra saunders (hawkgirl!)

✦ kara zor-el/kara danvers (supergirl!)

✦ bruce wayne (batman!)

[twentytomidnight]

did someone say...s((ex)) pollen?

Scott Summers/Reader/Logan, Venom/Reader, Guy Gardner/Reader, Colossus/Reader, Reed Richards/Reader, 4.2K

a/n: i said I had never written a sex pollen fic before and @eatfeet69, @cinnamon-girl-writes, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @gr0und-zer00 and @inkievoid for helping me out :]

cw: SMUT/18+ ONLY, sex pollen, consent given on all sides, threesomes, cunnilingus, mention of breeding kink in Venom's part, choking in Reed's part, reader has a pussy and/or ambiguous genitalia and is referred to in gender-neutral terms

masterlist ao3 requests

PREVIEW:

Looks like everyone's got a different take on how to deal with it. Thankfully, you like their ideas. Marvel/Reader, DC/Reader (18+)

Scott Summers/Reader/Logan

You feel as though you can’t quite remember how to circulate air through your body without deliberate, manual effort. As if there’s something trapped in the span of your throat as you stand before them. Watching as they sit on the cots that they’ve been assigned, breathing with heavy, roiling need.

You don’t know why you’re here: and yet you do. The way that Scott’s hands clutch into the sterile sheets, the way that you can see Logan openly eyeing you up and down. The way that they are both stiff in the tenting of their pants. The way they look like they want to eat you alive.

“You both asked for me?” You finally settle upon as statement, unsure of how else to cross this meridian they’ve set up. Watching as they have to physically focus on the question in different manner; so distracted they are by internal dialogue of plans they intend to do to you.

“Only way I could stand to stay in the room with Summers.” Logan sends back—his jaw twitches, works as he swallows. Licks his lips as his eyes drag down your legs.

Scott picks up the slack, trying to sound more composed—but there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he tries to remain composed. But even that’s cracking.

“We need you—”—And there's no mistaking that tone of voice—“—To help us. If you’re willing.”

Hope against hope strains him on the edge of the bed, waiting on tenterhooks for your response. His knuckles clutching so tight they jut white through the housing of his skin.

“I mean—of course.” You say. Logan’s shoulders jump like he means to have you there on the floor, but he resists it.

“Only—”—Your voice is halting, fleeting, embarrassed—“I don’t want to make things worse when you’re back to normal.”

Logan chuckles and it’s a ragged noise, something bitter in the intonation of the chord.

“Honey, you’re the only thing that’ll take us back to normal.” He grits through the champ of his teeth. “We been thinkin’ about you for a long time.”

If you had any coherent response, it’s washed away clean from the slate of your mind with this as he continues, staring at the button of your jeans. It’s obvious what he wants to do.

“Think you’re the only thing that’ll keep us in line.” Logan informs you. And you start at this.

“What?” A flush of heat runs under your skin at “keep us in line—”—are you even going to be able to walk after this? Do you even want to when these two men are making such desperate, mouthwatering displays of themselves?

“It’s true.” Scott chuffs out a pained breath to the ground, obviously desperate for relief. “He’s telling the truth.”

Under such duress, you know that he’s not lying. Not from the way Logan licks his pink tongue against the full of his lips. Your mind races.

“Oh. So—”—You let your voice peter out and dissolve into the air. What can you say? When they want so badly to fuck you? When you’re already tempted to absolve conversation and satisfy what they need?

“You wanna keep fucking after this, we can.” Logan asserts. It’s clear he's reaching some kind of agonizing threshold with no immediate relief in sight.

“But right now—”—His eyes practically roll over dark—“—Let us blow off some steam.”

“Are you okay with that?” Scott asks, looking directly to you. Hoping against hope.

You know your answer. “Yes.”

This is how you find yourself spread in between the two of them, Logan’s thick cock sinking into your entrance with such wonderful stretch you nearly come on the spot.

But Scott’s cock pressing into your hole makes any coherent thought, nothing but a deep, guttural, animal noise escape you. Scott’s arms tug around you, keeping you steady as he utters curses about how good you feel, how good you’re taking him, how much he needs you—

“Take this,” Logan says. Before you can comprehend through the whited-out plane of your mind, he stuffs two fingers into your mouth that you start to suck on without hesitation.

Greedy, wanting noises as you work your tongue around his knuckles. And then his hips start to roll into you, making delightfully obscene noise as he drags his length in and out of you.

Angry, rutting thrusts like he means to make you take his cock like you owe him something. And all you can do are make muffled noises of overstimulation into his hand; not that you would ever want to stop.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Logan groans as he slams his hips into you, hard enough to bruise later. Scott is busy fucking your hole, mouthing sloppy kisses at your pulse, his hands working at your nipples.

Each lick, each pinch drives you crazy, makes your eyes roll back in your head as your whimpers are muffled by the digits you lick like your life depends on it.

“Think—”—Scott moans, his statement catching as he sheathes himself inside you and you tilt your head off of Logan’s fingers with a wet pop—“—Think they look good like this—”

All you do is collapse back on Scott’s chest as his tacky palms knead at your chest, working to make your skin aflame with tactile sensation. Each time his fingers clutch at you is in tandem with the way he jumps his hips against you, bobbing you on his cock. And further pushing Logan deeper into you.

“God—”—You cry out in ecstasy, as Logan leans forward to catch one of your nipples in your mouth and bite. As Scott catches your earlobe in his teeth and sucks. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—”

As you do, full-bodied and with a keening wail, you know it’s far from your last. Especially as they continue to savage you with their mouths and the works of their ever-determined hands.

Venom/Reader

They find you, flustered and overstimulated, humping a pillow in your shared bed. The sight is enough to make something roar to life in the meter of them both: except for the tear tracks that have dried down your cheeks.

Except for the fact that your hole is stuffed with a vibrator he’s used on you before, but never at full speed. As you look at them with such abject relief: but don’t do anything to greet them.

So Eddie comes to you, as you paw desperately at his shirt. As you beg, “Come fuck me—please, Eddie, please.”

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Eddie asks, though Venom doesn’t care to ask questions when he can satisfy.

You’re trembling, shaking through another unfulfilling orgasm, your mouth caught in half-helpful ecstasy— “—I got blasted by this weird pollen—”—Your voice catches in Eddie’s arms as you try to unbutton his shirt—

“They say there’s only one cure.” You look at him with half-lidded eyes even though your head is already lolling back on lazy, fucked-out swivel. Even though it’s clearly not enough, even though it’s clear that you need what Eddie can give. What Venom is demanding within that he give you right now.

“I—”—Eddie searches, thinks of a past incident where Peter went through something like this, and realizes there is a first for everything. You're already making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

“You can’t be serious.” He starts. But makes no move to halt you as you continue to work. All the while your hips keep grinding in maddening display.

“I am. Please—”—Your hands make quick work of his belt, starting to drag on the glide of his zipper, “I need you.”

There’s no denying the lust in your eyes, the way you scald to the touch. The way the pillowcase you keep riding is soaked with you. The way you’re trying to persuade him to touch you, to do anything.

He can’t resist. Not when you give yourself on platter like this.

“Okay, honey—”—He says—the sigh you make is guttural—“—I’ll do it.”

You make a breathless laugh that halts around another approaching orgasm. But your voice breaks through clearly enough in audible manner.

“Both of you.” You hold his gaze. “Please.”

“We thought you’d never ask, sweetness.” Venom says. And then it’s not Eddie who’s driving the car anymore. It’s your other man, who hulks over you in such dominating fashion in such blink-of-an-eye speed you can barely register it. All you can do is sigh in relief.

This doesn’t last long; you’ve barely comprehended how you’ve ended up with your ass in the air, on all fours. Venom hasn’t taken care to remove the vibrator—he pushes it in deeper, the way your toes curl and you groan in delight summoning a growl.

“Think you can take us all, sweetness?” He asks, and you feel the press of that cock against you. The one that you and Eddie have tried to work you to with little success.

But all three of you can tell something’s different. Especially when you beg, “Yes, yes, yes—do it!”

“So wet for us,” Venom’s finger sinks into you and you greedily push back for more relief, “So good already.”

“Please,” you cry into the sheets you’re pushed into. “Please—”

Venom needs no further encouragement. When he slides into you, spearing you on that impossibly wide length, stretching you open—all you can do is open your moth, though no sound escapes. Though your eyes have wrenched closed and your fingers have fallen slack against the sheets.

“Good,” Venom makes throaty chuckle as he continues to work into you with so little effort. You’re so wet and aroused that if you were in proper state of mind you’d be embarrassed. But all you can focus on is the way that you finally feel full. You finally feel like the orgasm you get will be satisfying.

“So nice,” Venom hisses, “Maybe we’ll fuck you fat with kids, sweetness—like that, huh?”

His claws dig into you—you moan, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Like thinking about having our kids, sweetness?” He works further into you, deeper, deeper still. Still not enough. “Getting bred?”

“Breed me,” you beg. “Breed me.”

“Don’t ask twice,” Venom coos—and he hits the back. You sag into the sheets, though this is no trouble for your man, who lifts you easily.

“Don’t worry,” Venom says as he holds you flush against his chest, cold, unblemished, smooth. “We’ll make sure this takes. We’ll make sure you like it a lot, sweetness.”

You can’t tell if he's serious or not. But when he lifts you bodily off the length of his cock and then sinks you back down with ease, filling you to the hilt—you don’t care. You want it more than anything you've ever had.

“Yeah,” Venom purrs as he fills you up, “Best you ever had.”

Guy Gardner/Reader

Guy seems marvelously in control of himself as he regards you, fully stark-naked. He’s lying on his side, letting his cock bob in such tantalizing motion that it’s so difficult to be able to keep your eyes riveted on his own.

“Nice’a you to stop by, sweetheart.” Guy grins as he watches you, shifts that shelf of muscles that makes up his toned stomach. Lets you see the way his biceps gleam with sweat he seems disinclined to give any attention to right now. His arm coils, framing the display of his body.

“You look real good right now.” He says, and at this, you swear you see his cock twitch flush against him. You have to think of something to say before you’re far too gone, past the point of no return.

“Guy?” You ask carefully, watching him with caution. He doesn’t seem anything like how they described he would be. He’s gleaming with a sheen of energy expended, for certain, and his cock is certainly at angle you’ve never seen it torqued to before—but he’s in good form. Almost a good mood, given the circumstances.

“How do you feel?” You ask, taking a careful step towards him. He chuckles, because this is a waste of a question. His thighs flex, tick out as he bends knee on the one he doesn't prop weight on. God—he’s perfect like this.

When he replies, he’s quite cheerful with his answer. “Feel like I wanna fuck ya til I gotcha creamin’ on my cock.”

You have to take a deep, circulatory breath to make sure that you heard him right—when he laughs at your lack of reaction, you can’t help but feel something flush to life. Something roll in wanting need between your legs, making your mind blissfully blank.

“You like that?” He asks, his voice drawing lower in pitch and timbre. Waiting to see what you’ve yet to say, what he’s dying for you to say.

But you can’t help but indulge the urge to needle him. To see how he’s going to hold up—even though he’s in, er, fantastic form.

“Sure you got it in you?” You ask with a smirk. The way his teeth show look likes he wants to take a bite out of you—and in several choice places.

“With this shit?” He asks, and at this, he rolls his fist up the length of his cock, letting you watch the mesmerizing show. “Baby, we’re going for days, not hours.”

You laugh, unexpected and bubbling out of you before you can stop it. “Promise?”

“Get over here.” He commands—and his smile grows ever-wider as you dutifully approach.

He wants to fuck you against the wall first, pushing you so your hands have to clutch against unerring surface as he pulls your ass back. When he fucks into you, the wet slap of his hips snap into you with such brutal need that every thrust punches the air out of you. Has your walls clenching tight around him, gasping for more as he takes care to sheath you to the hilt.

Then, Guy wants to make sure he gets to see you proper—so he has you ride him reverse cowgirl, watching as your ass bounces on the spread of his hips as his cock fucks up into you.

As his fingers grasp so tightly around the width of your waist, guiding you so dominantly as he helps you keep pace on him. When you have to stop so that you can shake and moan through your orgasm, he takes care to keep thrusting in to you to carry you to the finish line.

After, Guy wants to shake it up, so he has you sit on his face while you take your cock into his mouth—or you would try, should his tongue give you any rest. If he wasn't pumping his fingers with such aim to make you collapse on top of him, at the mercy of the way his tongue sucks at your clit.

It seems his favorite, though, is when he fucks you sideways, wrapping your legs around his waist as you bite into a pillowcase. As he slams his cock into you to the hilt with such delicious drag that all you can do is whimper into the pillowcase as he takes his fill. As he keeps fucking into you with such abandon that you know he’s nowhere near satisfied—and neither are you.

“How you doin’—”—He asks through his teeth as he leans over you in mating press, your ankles ticked over his shoulders. There’s a perfect ‘o’ on your lips as you sink your nails into his biceps, dragging them down with terrific rasp that makes him groan in pleasure.

“Perfect—”—You manage out, cock-drunk and glassy-eyed and so, so happy—”—Please don’t stop, Guy, please please please—”

“Anythin’ for my baby,” He grins as the head of his cock noses at that spot that makes you go stiff, curl your toes. Guy Gardner’s always happy to oblige for you.

Colossus/Reader

“Peter—”—You ask as you step into the room—”—why are you chained?”

Even in the throes of the pollen’s effects, he is still so clearly seized by some modicum of embarrassment. Even though his cock is so clearly visible in this metallic form, jutting against the tenting of his pants.

“I asked them to—”—He admits in that soft Russian lilt—“—I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You chuckle in disbelief; you and Peter have been through a lot of bedframes. You doubt that this will be any different than the other times.

“Let me free you,” you begin, reaching for one of the manacles that encircles his wrist. But before you can, his fingers splay out, his arm jerks against chains that would crack concrete and moves them with ease.

“Nyet—no!” There is fire, worry written in the manuscript of his syllables, as his eyes, already glassy with lust, find yours. He articulates deep breath that makes that plateau of his chest rise and fall, though it's clear it takes so much concentration to do so.

“You will do this for me—”—He continues, avoiding your eyes though it’s clear all his interest is directed towards you—“—Because I don’t wish to risk anything.”

He swallows thick, slow, his adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes find you once more, as he ruts his cock along the air to no relief.

“You are too beautiful—”—Even through the haze you can detect the sincerity—“—Too precious to me.”

Even in the throes of fuck-or-die sex pollen, he still has such a poetic way with words. As he tries to breathe but clearly struggles without salve to his troubles.

“Okay.” You say, clapping your hands against your thighs—his eyes watch the movement with such dedicated interest— “—So what do you want?”

His life depends on it. His vitals have already demonstrated sharp decline. But his face darkens in burgeoning rust, his eyes avoid yours in his shamefacedness.

“I do not mean to ask—”—He begins, something wanting but reticent in the cadence of his voice. You put a hand over his arm, feel the scorch of his metallic skin. Hear the hitched moan as you draw physical contact against him.

“Ask.” You assert with determination. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

Your thumb soothes against his skin and clears house of any other thought than pleasure.

“Please—”—He begs—“—Get on top of me. Ride me.”

And when you find yourself perched on his cock, sinking your hole down onto that curved metal shaft; his wrists jerk against the chains that do not give. His whole body shudders as he mutters whispered praise to your body, your hole, your gift to him.

“I am lost without you,” he praises in worship as you bounce on his cock. As he watches the way the flesh of your body twitches and trembles as you hold onto his calves backwards—and fuck yourself on him. Your thighs burn, your breath comes tight—but he fills you so perfectly. He was made for you.

“I am yours,” he whimpers quietly, “I am servant to your body. Bozhe moi—I am liberated by you.”

You work him all the way in he can make—pausing as you feel how impossibly full you are, how your body twitches in perfect agony—

“I am made anew with you,” Peter groans, “You are my savior.”

As he spills into you with near-roar of pleasurable relief, without softening within you, you can’t help but smile with relief. Even though you huff for lost air, your body covered in thick layer of sweat. Looks like you definitely have your work cut out for you.

Reed Richards/Reader

“Reed,” you begin, unmoored, bearing no small amount of horror as you stare at his reclined body, “You did this to yourself?”

“Just,” he grunts, a fine sheen of sweat coating his face, a long trail of exertion slinking down his slick chest, “Thought it would be a worthy pursuit for science.”

Science certainly explains the way his cock angles out in such incredible arc—to the point of painfulness. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen it so large, with such great vein that trails down the shaft, precum already dribbling down the head.

“To infect yourself with it?” You ask, licking your lips in spite of yourself. “And what’s the cure?”

“Well,” he groans as he looks at you, his cock making traitorous twitch, “We have to have sex.”

You take a step forwards. “You think once is enough?”

“The assumption,” he says, “Is that we go as long as we need to. That’s what previous studies have found.”

“Previous studies—”—You begin, breaking off abruptly. “Reed, have you done this to yourself before?”

“Yes,” he admits, “though all I had were uh, other methods to relieve pressure.”

“But now you have me,” you return, sucking through your teeth. Reaching out to touch the shaft that jolts at the curve of your palm. Precum freely dribbles down at the merest contact; you gasp.

“Yes,” Reed says, and there’s ghost of a plea in his voice that even pride, in this haze, restricts him, “And I need you.”

You make experimental pump up his cock, hear the raw, ragged noise of pleasure as you work your thumb at that sensitive bundle of nerves behind the head. And you decide to hop on.

You’ve ridden him like this before, canted your thighs up and down on the length of his cock. Groan around the way that his curve fits so perfectly into you, dragging with such deep intensity against your walls that you can only let your head fall back and moan.

But he’s not content to watch you; his hands, his arms reach out for you, his fingers going against the conceivable rules of anatomy to tug both of your hands behind your back. You let him, something wicked and wanting as he restrains you with the easy pinioning of one hand, digits wrapping around you.

“Reed—”—You begin as you relax your thighs, sink onto his cock again. As you swallow another moan that makes you dizzy.

“I can go bigger,” he murmurs, a rasping breath huffing out of him, “For you.”

“What?” You ask, confused and lost as you fuck yourself on him. And then: your sense of grounding shifts. Your hands, still tugged behind you, begin to tilt as you’re eased back—as Reed’s body moves in malleable manner—as his hand seizes around your throat.

“There we go,” Reed coos, “That’s better.”

“What do you—”—You ask, before his hand clenches with just enough pressure to help you toe the line of pain and pleasure. The groan of want you make is barely stifled by his fingers that seek to keep you trapped under his grasp—and then you feel yourself lifted.

“Reed?” You ask, confused, searching for what’s happened. Through the glassy-eyed desire, you look on in bemusement as you lean against his lower thighs, your angle adjusted to recline on him like you would a lawn chair, bathing luxuriously in the heat. As though you’re not in your husband’s lab, bound and restrained in such flustered state of nakedness.

And then—his hips roll up into you. And whatever follow-up question you were going to make is silenced. And all that escapes you is a tight, “Oh, fuck—”

You don’t know what he’s done—he's never this big. He's never this thick and wide as he fucks into you at this perfect angle that you're unable to do anything more than take it. He must be using his powers—it must be the pollen—you feel like can’t think of anything save the way your thighs tremble before him.

And how he’s still sinking into you with the rut of those desperate hips, making your walls stretch more than they ever have before. You want it more than anything else.

“Reed—”—You whine—“—Please—”

He knows what you want. So he obliges—and starts to set a pace. A quick, desperate, needy fuck to satisfy this want that’s been boiling over in the both of you. As he glides his cock that is so impossibly tight inside of you, taking every bit of space that he can as he keeps fucking that spot that has you a shaky mess.

“Oh my god—”—You’re vaguely aware of saying—”—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don't stop—”

If there’s one thing that Reed can do, it’s listen to orders. And he fucks you without resistance, without difficulty, keeping his hips tethered in singular direction, pumping it into you with such speed that your moans are broken up by each wet slap.

Each sink of his cock bookended by satisfied groan from him as he keeps you bound and helpless. As you try to work your hips, arch your back against him—sing his praises.

“Reed, I'm gonna come—”—You beg—and if you thought the speed was mind-numbing before—when his hips begin to rock into you with such starved cadence, making your flesh bounce with each snap of his hips—

“Oh, fuck—”—Is your only preamble before you come, collapsing fully into the cradle of his arms, his body. Still, lazily he keeps deliberate pump to keep you familiar to the shape of him. But when you resurface enough to send him shaky smile; you know that starved, needful look in his eye.

After all, Reed’s a scientist. He must exercise experimentation to the best of his abilities to confirm his theorems. And you, to your delight—happen to be his guinea pig for this avenue of study.

When he starts to pick up the tempo of rocking his hips back into yours, you can’t help but think about how lucky you are.

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requests:

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join the taglist here!

[und3r-th3-st4rs]

Kinktober 2025

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

idk how well i’ll be able to keep up with this 😅

i also don’t have a specific time i post so it might me 6am or 11pm EST

i made a tag list forms! 🥳 if you wanna be tagged sign up on this forms

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Day 1 || overstimulation - adrian chase

Day 2 || bondage - guy gardner

Day 3 || quiet sex - hughie campbell

Day 4 || messy sex - daryl dixon

Day 5 || cock warming - bruce wayne

Day 6 || double penetration - adrian chase and christopher smith

Day 7 || possessive sex - john walker

Day 8 || hate sex w/biting - soldier boy

Day 9 || priest kink - dean winchester

Day 10 || semi-public sex - rick flag jr

Day 11 || sex pollen - bucky barnes

Day 12 || belly bulge - adrian chase

Day 13 || CNC/roleplay - shane walsh

Day 14 || slow sex - rick grimes

Day 15 || free use - soldier boy

Day 16 || wall sex - sam winchester

Day 17 || creampie - eddie brock

Day 18 || virginity - soldier boy

Day 19 || sex while hiding - john walker

Day 20 || thigh fucking - charles xavier

Day 21 || marking - adrian chase

Day 22 || breeding - eddie brock

Day 23 || aphrodisiacs - castiel

Day 24 || kidnapping - homelander

Day 25 || handcuffs - dean winchester

Day 26 || hair pulling- lucius malfoy

Day 27 || role reversal - erik lehnsherr

Day 28 || fuck or die - shane walsh

Day 29 || clothed sex - eddie brock

Day 30 || office sex - severus snape

Day 31 || threesome - steve rogers and bucky barnes

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I used @coffeetailor kinktober list for the most part

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[kitkatscabinet]

THIRD WHEELING?

pairings | guy gardner, roy harper/wally west, johnny storm/peter parker x fem! reader

a/n | i can't really think of a summary for this one, so, happy pride month i guess guys <3

ROY HARPER & WALLY WEST

You’ve no idea what they’re arguing about, having drowned the two redheads out for the better part of half an hour now, it’s only the elevated tones that let you know they’re even still going at it. Hell, you doubt even they know what they’re arguing about anymore either.

All you know is that you’ve been nursing a pounding headache for a while now and even your beloved boyfriend’s voice, which normally has you melting into a puddle, is starting to grate harshly on your senses.

“Oh my god, will you two just kiss already!” You groan, throwing your hands in the air as you swivel in your chair to glare at them.

Throwing a bomb would have been less disruptive, but a lot less funny you think, staring at Roy and Wally’s twin expressions of shocked horror.

“Babe?” Roy’s voice is incredulous, a little strangled as he clutches a hand to his chest in aghast betrayal, brows furrowed in confusion.

Wally’s no better, tips of his ears nearly as red as his hair as he alternates between sputtering a failed attempt at a clever retort and vibrating through the floor.

“I mean, why else would the two of you need to be in each other's personal space?”

Wally leaps back like he’s been burned, skin getting even pinker still as your teasing grin brightens, headache momentarily forgotten.

Roy, ever adaptable and in tune with you, sees the mischievous sparkle in your eye and quickly shifts gears.

“You’re asking me to cheat on you?” Throwing you a wink, he turns to Wally, deliberately giving his friend a slow once over with a lascivious grin that has Wally stiffening in place.

“Just this once.” You joke, only for your laugh to turn into a gasp when Wally’s face becomes awash with determination, and faster than you can blink, his lips are on your boyfriends.

Roy recovers with a speed that’s frankly suspicious after being unexpectedly jumped by a speedster, sliding a hand down to rest on Wally’s waist, tugging him even closer as his other tangles in ginger locks.

It’s a decidedly filthy kiss, when Wally, deciding he’s not one to be outdone, slots a thigh between Roy’s legs and licks into his mouth.

To your surprise, there’s none of that ugly envy that sometimes rears its head when Dick starts sniffing around your man.

As if reading your mind, Roy’s eyes flicker open, a silent question in his gaze that has your heart squeezing in affection.

You simply grin, cheeks burning a little as you sit, contented and a little flustered at the unexpected display.

When they finally pull apart, Wally’s chest is heaving and both boys have pinkened cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.

You reward them with a wolf whistle that turns into a laugh when Wally flushes bright red before speeding out the door, your eyes following his retreat. Unbeknownst to you, Roy watches you thoughtfully.

Your birthdays coming up, and suddenly he’s got a lot more ideas

PETER PARKER & JOHNNY STORM

Johnny Storm is, unfortunately, very cute. Even worse, he knows he’s cute, and boy does he act like it. 

Physically, he’s very much your type. If only he weren’t such an insufferable rake, then maybe you’d even have jumped into bed with him when he’d started flirting with you all those weeks ago. You wouldn’t have even minded just being another notch on his bedframe, except for the fact that you were both friends with Peter Parker, and thus were forever cursed to exist in the same small social circle. 

It was fine. It wasn’t like you minded the flirting; it was a hell of a confidence booster, but you were still far from giving him a chance. Or rather, it would have been fine, but Peter had suddenly taken it upon himself to advocate on Johnny’s behalf. You couldn’t go ten minutes without Peter giving you puppy dog eyes, or waxing lyrical about “how great Johnny is, just give him a chance!”

It all culminates when Johnny crashes (though Peter, the traitor, definitely invited him to) movie night, a long-standing tradition between you and Peter, and you end up sitting between the two of them. Peter, the annoying little shit, is doing his best to take up as much couch space as humanly possible, forcing you to rest against Johnny’s side, the blond’s arm thrown conspicuously over the back of the furniture. 

The movie’s paused, Johnny ducking off to the bathroom and giving you room to finally breathe. 

“You know, he’s really—”

“Fuck me dead, Pete.” You exclaim, beyond sick of his ‘wingmanning’ “if Johnny’s so great, why don’t you kiss him!”

Of course, that’s when the topic of conversation ambles back into the room, blue eyes sliding between you and Peter, huddled up on the couch with a widening grin as he pieces together the missing pieces of conversation. 

“I would, but Johnny’s not really my type.” Peter jokes as Johnny gives an offended squawk. 

You doubt you’ve ever rolled your eyes harder, “Peter, you’ve been riding Johnny’s dick so hard these past few weeks it’s a wonder you’re not pregnant.”

It’s Peter’s turn to squawk indignantly at that, but before you can even pat yourself on the back for undoubtedly putting an end to his annoying Johnny yammering, said blond has marched across the space, grabbed his friend by the cheeks and pulled him into a fiery kiss. 

Objectively, you know Peter’s an attractive guy. It’s just you’ve never really allowed yourself to think of him that way, but now, slack-jawed at a steamy kiss he’s started to reciprocate, as if vying for dominance, an unwanted heat starts unfurling in your gut. 

“Do you guys want me to leave?” Your voice cracks, high-pitched and squeaky, as you struggle to pull your gaze away from the increasingly tempting sight in front of you. 

As if you’ve spoken the magic words, the two suddenly jolt apart, sharing a conspiratorial look you miss as your tongue sits heavy and useless in your mouth. 

“Don’t even think about it, babe.”

An instinctive retort forms in the back of your throat, but Johnny promptly swallows it when his heated lips are suddenly on yours. Your brain shuts down, traitorous body succumbing to the kiss as a warm palm gently cups your neck, holding you in place without exerting any pressure. 

Fingers trail down your spine before sliding to rest on your waist, making you jolt before relaxing at the realisation that it’s just Peter. The next few minutes pass in a haze of wandering hands and kisses exchanged between varying combinations of the three of you until somehow, you’re deposited on Peter’s lap, chest to chest as Johnny’s practically glued to your back. 

“Just think, all that time turning me down could have been spent doing this instead.” You can feel, the smug grin on Johnny’s face as the plants a trail of kisses behind your ear and down your jawline. 

Rolling your eyes, you reach back to tangle your fingers in dishevelled blonde hair, tugging him forward as your free hand guide’s Peter’s face, “shut up and kiss each other again already.”

“Bossy.” He huffs, but much to your delight, complies with your demand enthusiastically. Peter and Johnny have always had a bad habit of showboating, and now, with you stuck between them, they’re more than willing to put on a show it seems. 

Finally, something you can’t complain about.

GUY GARDNER & HAL JORDAN

It had been a joke, something hyperbolic, a “ha-ha, gotcha” moment to get Guy to back off a little because there was no way Guy would follow through, and there was certainly no way Hal would let him. 

“The day I kiss you is the day you kiss Hal.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Guy. Quite the opposite, really. There was just a large part of you that doubted Guy truly liked you. You’d spent years watching him flirt with anything with a pulse, never phased at the many, many rejections. He’d just brush himself off and turn to the next pretty woman. 

What you, and certainly Hal, hadn’t expected was for Guy to barely give it a single second of consideration before he was gripping Hal’s face with large, calloused hands and planting a surprisingly passionate kiss on his unsuspecting friend. 

Hal freezes, statuesque in either shock or horror, long enough for Guy to slip him some tongue before he’s pulling away with a wet smacking noise that would normally have you flinching in disgust, but for some reason has you heating up a little under the collar. 

Just when you think you’ve imagined it all in some fucked up fantasy about two of your friends/coworkers, Kyle spits out the mouthful of your cocktail he’d helped himself to directly onto your new pants. 

“Rayner!” You shriek, managing to tear your eyes off Hal’s dazed expression at the uncomfortable new sensation of unintentionally being wet and sticky. Having sensed his impending doom, Kyle’s already thrown himself off the barstool and is halfway to the exit when a warm arm settles around your shoulders and prevents your chase. 

Whipping your head around, your heart stutters a little in your chest at finding Guy so close that your nose brushes against his. Blinking, you rapidly try to create space, only to fail when his arm keeps you steady in place, palm sliding down to rest between your shoulder blades. 

“So, about that kiss?”

“I can’t believe you actually did that.” Your voice is a little numb with shock, brain replaying the past ten seconds in slow motion like a football highlights reel. 

“That?” He scoffs, like he hasn’t just left Hal auditioning for the newest statue at the Louvre, “a small task to earn a kiss from you.”

“Are you sure you didn’t want to just kiss Hal, because I don’t recall saying you had to use tongue. To the outside eye, it almost seemed like you were super enthusiastic about the opportunity.”

“What can I say, I’m a giver.” Guy’s smirk is downright sleazy, and there must be something seriously wrong with your brain because suddenly he’s the most attractive man in the whole bar. 

You’re pretty sure that kiss is seared into your retinas for the rest of your existence; it’ll play behind your eyelids when you go to sleep tonight, that’s for sure. 

“Left you speechless, huh? Don’t worry, you’re not the—”

Grabbing him by the shirt, you pull him down into a kiss before you can think better of it. Guy, who apparently has been very eager for this moment, gets with the program immediately, and by the time you’re dazedly pulling away to breathe, you realise exactly why Hal’s still staring glassy-eyed into the cosmos. 

Against all universal laws, Guy Gardner’s a fantastic kisser. It would piss you off if you weren’t already pulling him in for another, suddenly wanting to make up for lost time.

Somewhere to your left, Jess makes a disgusted noise and follows after Kyle’s example. Not that you pay her any mind, it’s Hal’s sudden attention that has your interest, eyes flickering open long enough to confirm that he’s watching you and Guy a little more intently before you’re overwhelmed by another breathtaking kiss.

You quickly file that little tidbit of information away for later revision, for now, Guy’s got your full attention.