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: The one where they misunderstand what the positive test is for.
Includes: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Wally West, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent and John Constantine
Warnings: Reader is implied to be able to get pregnant, however I'm all for them being dumb enough to think they've managed even if it's not possible so you decide lol <3 Beside that, no real warnings, mostly fluffy and humorous.
Morph's thoughts: Hii everyone, this is my first dc comics fic AND first text!au fic ever :) I'm still trying to find everyone's "texting voices" and doing a bit of a trial and error with the formating of the screen shots, so if you have any feedback it's more than welcome!!
wally west who’d never used his superpowers in bed with anyone else.
it’s not that he hadn’t had sex before you, but it was the first time he was doing it with someone who knew about his secret identity, about his superspeed.
he’s working you up with his hand, fingers pressing on your clit when he goes “can i try something?” and once you show your agreement, he starts picking up the pace until he’s vibrating against you.
it takes you by surprise, even if he asked you first, the sensation like nothing you’ve felt before, similar to the feeling of using a vibrator, but with the added intimacy of having him doing it and the expertise in his movements, knowing exactly how to press against the little bundle of nerves to make you feel good.
it only lasts a few seconds when he suddenly stops, it’s enough to have you squirming under him and whining for more before he’s moving between your legs. he had fantasised about going down on you, but with his newly found skills it’s suddenly become a lot more exciting for both of you. he starts slow, kitten licks to your clit before he’s sealing his lips around it, rapidly sucking in and out, and the already mind numbing sensation only intensifies once his tongue starts vibrating against you.
he’s got you seeing stars and you already know that he’s forever ruined sex for you from eating you out alone because nothing could ever compare to this experience, and only wally west can give it to you.
he needs to have you coming at least once before getting to the real thing, and it’s not any better once he does. he’s fucking you out of your mind, you’re going crazy over the way his hips slap against yours, getting to a speed you’re sure no regular guy could reach once he starts getting desperate for more friction, and is his cock vibrating too?
he’s still not done once you’ve both come, he’ll go for several rounds, all thanks to the enhanced stamina his connection to the speedforce granted him. you’re on your sixth orgasm, begging him to at least let you rest for a few minutes, but his dick is still hard and he’s eager to keep going. you offer to suck him off, but he’s too set on making you feel good, getting off on your own pleasure and trying out his new abilities with you.
it was supposed to be a one time thing, but once you’re done you both know that you won’t experience something as good as what you did today again unless it’s with each other.
꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Wally West, Roy Harper
JASON TODD
You’re on his back, arms and legs wrapped around him like a very determined koala.
“Sweetheart, get off me,” Jason groans, struggling to keep his balance.
“No! You’re leaving me.” You tighten your grip.
“Baby, sweetheart, listen to me,” he huffs, both hands gripping your thighs to make sure you don’t fall. “I need to get your meds so you feel better.”
“Oh, so now you think I’m crazy?”
“No—you’re sick!” he insists, finally putting you on the couch. He kneels between your legs, looking at you like you’re the bane of his existence.
“In the head?” you ask suspiciously.
“Physically, dumbass,” he says, rolling his eyes. Then he mumbles, “…Probably that too.”
“You can’t leave me when I’m most vulnerable. I’m gonna die all alone.”
He stiffens. Then with a seriousness that unnerves you, he cups your face in his hands and mutters, “Not letting that happen, yeah? You’re the only thing worth living for.”
You blink, heat crawling over your cheeks. “Oh…”
“But I need to get you medicine so you’ll feel better,” he adds quickly. “It’ll take five minutes tops. Okay?”
“I… yeah. Right. Of course.”
His shoulders slump in relief. He pulls you into his arms, one hand tangling in your hair. “I love you, you menace.”
WALLY WEST
Wally learned very quickly that super speed meant absolutely nothing against you. Not when you weaponized those pretty puppy dog eyes.
He’s zipping into his suit faster than you can speak, and yet you’re already standing in the doorway, a pout forming on your lips.
His heart shatters. It’s a simple thing to others. But to him? The fact that you always want to be with him means everything. It means you love him enough to let him see every part of you.
Including the clingy, pouty version that had your exes running the other way.
Wally, however, lives off your love, bathes in it when the world gets too fast.
“Be safe,” you whisper, tugging your blanket around your shoulders like a shield.
It’s only 7 a.m. on a Saturday. And he wants nothing more than to scoop you up and carry you back to bed.
“Always am, babe.” He grins reassuringly, running a hand through his ginger curls.
“You better be,” you mutter softly. “Need more morning cuddles. How else am I supposed to survive?”
“Aww, you need me?”
“Just your body heat and strong arms.”
He’s in front of you in a blur of red. Your eyes widen.
“You totally need me,” he whispers, lips tugging up. He’s always smiling when he’s with you. A reflex he can’t control.
You roll your eyes. “I simply miss my emotional support vibrator.”
He snickers. “Is that all I am?”
His hands tighten your blankets around you before his arms circle your waist, his breath fanning your ear.
You don’t reply. Instead, you soak in his presence and the peace that comes with it.
“I’ll be back.” He kisses the side of your head, already starting to pull away.
You lean into him, head under his chin. “Five more minutes.”
“Sweetheart…”
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Pretty please?”
He swallows. “…Yeah. Okay. Whatever you want, baby.”
DICK GRAYSON
Dick hates stakeouts. Not because they’re boring or uncomfortable. He’s been doing this long enough for it to be as easy as doing a backflip.
The problem is that he’s leaving you half asleep in bed, the rain tapping against the windows while you pretend to be okay.
“Go to sleep, angel,” he whispers.
On the other side of the comms, you shift in bed, blankets rustling through his earpiece.
“I can’t sleep without you.” In your sleepy state, a hint of a whine slips through, and it makes him want to run straight back home.
“I know, I know. I’ll try to wrap this up quickly.”
You let out a soft, tired sigh that goes straight to his heart. His jaw ticks. He needs to speedrun this stakeout.
“Stop being cute, honey.”
“How else am I supposed to get you back home?”
A hushed laugh escapes him. “You only need to say the word, and I’ll finish up here as fast as I can.”
“Come home then.”
“Working on it.”
You groan. “You hate me.”
“I could never.”
You can’t see him, no one can. But hidden behind the domino mask, his eyes soften anyway, affection written all over his face. He looks like a man completely and hopelessly gone.
“Okay. I love you, Dick,” you murmur into your phone, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.
“I love you more.”
“You know damn well this argument will never end.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to.”
ROY HARPER
The fan did nothing to help. You’re pressed up against Roy, limbs tangled together. It’s a sweltering night, the kind of heatwave the news warned about.
Roy groans, shifting slightly. He’s shirtless, the covers thrown aside. You admire him while curling back against him.
He side eyes you. “Trouble…”
“Yeah?” you mumble into his chest, the vibrations making him shiver.
“Can’t you live without cuddles for a day?” He tries wiggling away from you.
“Move away again and I’ll call Lian over too,” you say, arms going around his neck.
He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.
“Don’t threaten me,” he warns, voice low and amused. “I’ll surrender every time.”
“Only because Lian’s the only one clingier than me,” you whisper before your lulled to sleep by the fall and rise of his chest.
Masterlist
Technically, I only promised a wally drabble if the Seahawks won…but I had to write for the others too
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.
summary : that trend where guys pretend to plank till failure and end up whimpering for people online.. only, it’s your boyfriend. And he’s actually whimpering.
masterlist , DC Masterlist
You were on the couch scrolling through your phone when Wally decided to become a social media star.
“Baby, watch this,” he said, already dropping to the living room floor in nothing but gray sweatpants. “There’s this trend where guys plank until they fail and post it. The comments are wild. Girls go crazy for it.”
You raised an eyebrow, setting your phone aside. “And you want to do it… why?”
He grinned up at you from the floor, already in plank position — forearms down, body straight, muscles flexing. “Because I’m fast. And strong. And I look really good doing it. Obviously.”
You laughed, sitting up to get a better view. “Alright, speedster. Impress me.”
Wally started strong.
He held the plank like it was nothing, core tight, shoulders steady, that cocky grin still plastered on his face. “See? Easy. I could do this all day.”
You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, watching the way his back muscles shifted under his skin. “You’re showing off.”
“Obviously,” he said, voice steady. “For you. Only you get the VIP view.”
Thirty seconds in, he was still cocky.
“Bet I can beat the record,” he boasted, breathing even. “Those guys online are amateurs. I’m the Flash. I got this.”
You smiled, biting your lip as you watched his arms start to tremble just slightly. “Keep talking, West. We’ll see how long that confidence lasts.”
One minute.
Wally’s grin faltered. His breathing picked up. “Okay… maybe not as easy as I thought. But still fine. Totally fine.”
Two minutes.
His arms were shaking now. A small bead of sweat ran down his temple. “Fuck… why does this hurt so much? I run at Mach speeds and this is what gets me?”
You couldn’t stop smiling. “Because you’re using muscles you don’t usually use for running, genius. Keep going. I’m enjoying the show.”
He huffed a laugh, but it came out strained. “You’re evil. You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Three minutes.
Wally’s whole body was trembling. His breathing was ragged, little grunts escaping him with every second he held on. “Okay… okay, this is harder than it looks. My arms are burning. My core is on fire. Why did I think this was a good idea?”
You leaned closer, resting your chin on your hand. “Because you wanted to show off for your girlfriend. And it’s working. You look really good like this.”
He whimpered.
Actually whimpered.
The sound was small, desperate, and ridiculously hot. His hips dipped for half a second before he forced them back up, arms shaking violently.
“Baby— fuck— I can’t— I’m gonna—”
Four minutes and twelve seconds.
Wally collapsed with a dramatic groan, face planting into the carpet. He rolled onto his back, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin, arms spread out like he’d just run a marathon.
“I’m dead,” he panted. “Tell my mother I loved her. Don’t tell the Justice League I went out doing something stupid for clout.”
You laughed, sliding off the couch to straddle his waist. He groaned again — this time less from pain and more from the way you settled on top of him.
“You lasted longer than most guys on the trend,” you teased, running your hands over his chest. His skin was warm and slick with sweat, muscles still twitching from the effort. “And you made the cutest noises at the end.”
He covered his face with both hands, mortified. “I did not whimper.”
“You whimpered,” you said, grinning. You pried his hands away and leaned down, kissing him softly. “It was adorable. And hot. Very hot.”
Wally’s hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking the skin under your shirt. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”
“Nope.” You kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the way he melted under you. His hands slid higher, slipping under your shirt to rest warm against your bare back. The touch was comforting, but there was heat in it too — the way his fingers pressed into your skin, the way his hips shifted just slightly under you.
“You’re evil,” he murmured against your lips. “Making me do that and then sitting on me like this. I’m trying to recover and you’re making it very hard to think straight.”
You rocked against him once, teasing, and he groaned, head falling back against the carpet.
“Baby,” he warned, voice rough. “You keep doing that and this is going to turn into something else entirely.”
You smiled innocently, but your hands were already tracing the lines of his abs, feeling the way they tensed under your touch. “Maybe I want it to.”
Wally’s eyes darkened. He flipped you suddenly, pinning you beneath him on the carpet. His body was warm and heavy in the best way, sweat-slick skin pressing against yours.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, kissing you deeply as his hands roamed your body.
He kissed down your neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin, then lower, pushing your shirt up so he could mouth at your chest. Every touch was reverent but hungry, like he couldn’t get enough of you.
When he finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, he rested his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he said, voice rough. “Even when you make me do stupid trends and then tease me about it.”
You laughed softly, fingers threading through his hair. “I love you too. My dramatic, whimpering, incredibly hot boyfriend.”
He groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Never letting me live that down.”
“Never,” you agreed, kissing his shoulder. “But I’ll make it worth your while.”
Wally held you like that for a long time — bodies tangled on the living room floor, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. The city hummed far below, but in your apartment, everything felt warm and safe and silly and perfect.
He might be the fastest man alive.
But with you, he was perfectly happy to slow down and let you win every single time.
a/n : sorry for disappearing for ages.. I been gone..
Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd; Tim Drake, Wally West
Contents: fem!reader, suggestive, established relationship, implied nudity, texting
Dick Grayson
You two often send stupid selfies to each other as a one time view.
So he inst surprised when he gets one at a random time during the day. He opens it, not expecting to see your tits on full display.
He immediately turns off his phone.
Takes a second to breath, and excuses himself from wherever he is at the moment.
When he finds a private space somewhere, he sends you a pic of his shirt rolled up, abs showing and part of his grin showing in the corner of the photo.
Jason Todd
When he gets a text from you, asking if he´s alone, he´s imediatly on high alert, thinking something happened to you.
So when he answers with "yes" and you send him a pic as one time view, hes confused.
He opens it, obviously, and is really thankful that hes not driving right now. Hes literally gawking at how your naked body is positioned in the picture.
He texts you a quick "be there in ten" before swinging back onto his bike and making his, very uncomfortable, way back home.
Tim Drake
You've been sitting inside your apartment the whole day, trying to avoid the burning sun.
At some point, Tim had been convinced by you to go out to get you some ice cream. He´d been out for all of five minutes, before he gets a notification on his phone.
He opens the photo and almost chokes on nothing at you tits out on the sofa.
The message after the photo reads: "don´t forget the ice cream"
Wally West
Before leaving to hang out with his friends, he promised you he wouldn't come home late.
Well, now it was past midnight already.
While talking to a friend, Wally gets a notification.
Without thinking to much about it, he opens it and immediately fezzes. It was a pic of you touching yourself. He almost drops the phone, his ears turning bright red.
He hears snickering behind him.
"Uh... I gotta go."
Before anyone can ask another question, he's gone. Wally has never made it home faster.
