ʚ 𝓼ｉｅｎｎａ ɞ

⤷ ゛artist/writer ೀ 9teen ೀ mark grayson's #1 𑣲 wally west's wife comms open !

[vveloxsbve]

oka so while i try to get my blog like cleanied up and wtv make it neater here's a temporary master list until im able to make a better one

main master list

blurbs

w. west - your boyfriend is clingy, even if he's tired and it's hot (LMAO i couldn't think of a name)

b. allen - breeding kink i think but mostly barry cant pull out

[gothamgraveyard]

"Your dad is really fucking sexy"

Blurbs; Wally West, Roy Harper, Conner Kent x reader part 2!

Link to Part 1

Summary: You happen to see their dad/mentor (in Wally's case) on TV, and you let your boyfriend know you'd so bang his dad.

TW: Pure smut, no dark themes (I don't do that :p), so read at your own risk. Minors dni.

A/n: The girls are going to be in part 3 for sure. Cass and Steph will be Bruce's kids (yes, I know Steph isn't Bruce's kid, but she is for the sake of this fic). Babs' dad will be commissioner Gordon even though he's a cheater T<T

WALLY WEST

You lean on your elbows, biting your lip. “You know… I would so fuck Barry.”

Wally blinks at you, his lips jutting out into a pout the second he heard that blasphemy. 

“What?” he squeaks, his voice cracking “Uncle Barry?! The Barry Allen?”

“He is such a wet dream, Wally, I’m not even kidding,” you sigh dramatically, resting your chin in your hands. “He’s so fucking hot. Those stupidly tight dress shirts? Plus he’s so sweet and gentle! I just know he’d lay me down, hold my hands, and destroy my life.”

Wally drops the spatula onto the counter with a loud clatter, looking at you like you just shattered his soul.

“What about me?!” he squawks, his chest puffing out as he points violently at himself. “Babe. Babe! Look at me! I’m right here! I have better stamina! I am the hotter one! I do the fun sex stuff! Barry goes to bed at nine p.m. and talks about chemical compounds!”

“Yeah, but Barry has that whole 'hot nerd who fucks like a God’' vibe,” you smirk, reaching out to pull Wally by his waistband. “It’s nasty. I love it.”

“Babe, no,” Wally whimpers. He instantly vibrates into a blur and scoops you off the counter, pinning you flat on your back on the dining table in less than a nanosecond. “You are not sitting in my kitchen fantasizing about my mentor’s polite dick!”

He looms over you, his eyes burning as he yanks your thighs wide, his hands hot and heavy as he grips your waist.

“He’s sweet? I can be sweet,” Wally argues as his hand slides under your skirt, ripping your panties aside and burying two fingers deep inside you without warning. You gasp, arching off the polished wood. “Or I can vibrate my fingers at a frequency that’ll make you squirm and cry in five seconds flat. You want your brain turned to mush? You’re getting it right fucking now.”

“Wally—” you gasp, your head rolling back as he speeds up his thrusts, his thumb grinding hard over your clit.

“Say I’m hotter than Barry,” Wally commands, biting down hard on your lower lip, his hips pressing heavily into yours. “Say I’m the only thing you’re dreaming about, or I swear to God, babe, I am not letting you cum all weekend.”

ROY HARPER

You tilt your head, shifting your hips slightly against Roy’s jeans. “You know… I’d ride your dad.”

Roy’s eyes snap from the screen straight to yours, blinking before a look of disbelief washes over his face.

“Nuh-uh. Absolutely not. That’s like… my dad, babe,” Roy sputters, his mouth dropping open before pulling into an incredulous smirk. “Take it back right now. Take it back, or I swear to God I’m going to murder you.”

“I’m just being honest!” you laugh, running your hands up his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt. “Oliver is literally such a hottie.”

“Okay, first off, gross. Second off, he’s an old man!” Roy groans, though a competitive heat flashes in his eyes. His hands suddenly clamp down tight on your waist, his calloused palms bruisingly firm. “Take it back, or you’re riding me until you pass out. I’m not even kidding.”

“Make me,” you tease, bucking your hips down, rubbing your cunt right against the solid length straining behind his fly.

Roy’s jaw tightens as he chuckles “Oh, you think you’re so funny, huh? Wanting to get dirty with the mayor?”

Before you can snark back, Roy yanks your shorts to the side and unzips his jeans with one swift, fluid motion, freeing his cock. Without a second of warning, he lifts you by the hips and impales you completely, sinking all the way in with a single thrust.

“Ah—!” you gasp, your eyes rolling back as your breath gets knocked out of you.

“Yeah, keep talking that shit,” Roy groans against your mouth, his hands locking onto your hips and forcibly bouncing you up and down his shaft, setting a relentless pace. “You want to piss me off? You’re getting my dick until you can’t speak. Ride it. Come on.”

He’s pulling you down hard over and over, his cock sliding deep inside you, making the couch creak and your thighs burn. Sweat breaks out across your forehead as his thumb digs into your clit, grinding mercilessly while he forces your body to take every inch of him.

“Say it,” Roy pants against your throat “Say my cock is the only thing ruining your life tonight.”

“Roy—fuck—” you sob out, your thighs shaking violently from the sheer burn of him driving you up and down his lap.

“That’s what I thought, babe,” he smirks.

CONNER KENT

You trace a long line down Conner’s sharp collarbone, leaning up to whisper “You know… I’d fuck your dad”

Conner slowly rolls his eyes, letting out a dry and unamused chuckle.

“Right? Wow, groundbreaking observation,” Conner mocks with a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. “You think you’re the first person who wants Superman?”

“I’m serious!” you tease, sliding your hand down his stomach. “I bet Clark’s secretly filthy.”

Conner snorts, tilting his head back against the pillows. “First of all, he’s a giant dork who waters house plants. Second of all…” His dark eyes flick down to you. “Which dad are we talking about? Do you want Lex, too, you little whore?”

Before you can argue, Conner’s hands lock around your back and with terrifying super-strength, as he pushes you down on your knees at the foot of the bed.

“You’ve got a real nasty mouth today, don’t you?” he smirks “Fantasizing about the Man of Steel while you’re lying in my bed? That’s wild.”

“He’s got great genetics, Conner—”

“Yeah? Well, you’re about to see what those genetics actually do,” Conner interrupts, unbuckling his belt with his free hand and freeing his dick. He grips the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your hair as he guides your face down. “Since you can’t keep your mouth shut, you’re gonna put it to better use. Take it. All of it.”

Your breath catches as he aligns his tip against your lips, pressing in without hesitation. He slowly fills your throat, his grip tight in your hair as he holds you flush against his hips. You’re a mess, eyes watering, mouth stretched wide as it can get, trying to bashfully breathe through your nose. 

“That’s it,” Conner murmurs, as he looks down at you taking every inch, your eyes watering around him so bad you could barely see him “Look at you. Forget about Superman, babe, you’re choking on my dick, and you’re gonna take every fucking drop.”

A/n: Consolation prize for the fact that I'm going to be inactive for the next four days :p. Be honest, would u guys crucify me for making Bruce Steph's dad for the sake of a fic orr no? Bc she doesn't have a dad otherwise 😭

[vveloxsbve]

wooh wally 🤤

[frostedorchard]

I woke up today and sadness washed over me right away, because I wasn’t playing with wally west's beautiful hair while his head lay on my chest, and I couldn't trace the freckles on his nose, and I couldn't listen to his morning jokes about a pigeon that landed on our windowsill

[plumstatic]

I can see Wally needing the reassurance that you like him a lot.

Not because he's actually insecure in your relationship or about you loving him, you do, he knows that. But because it gets him going. Knowing how much you love him and hearing you say it makes him either very clingy and all soft or horny.

So when you lay in bed, him pressing soft, quick kisses all over your face, listing all the things about you that he loves and you finally get the chance to tell him how much you love him too, he´ll either pull you closer to him and keep kissing your face or press you into the mattress and start moving his hands lower.

He´ll keep kissing you, first your face, then neck then chest. He´ll take his time making his way lower, though you can feel how impatient he is, fiddling his hands over your thighs and hips.

When he finally gets his face between your thighs, he'll keep teasing, only giving you the touch you need after assuring him multiple times how much he means to you and how much you love him.

After getting you off with his mouth and fingers, he´ll fuck you and probably wont shut up. He'll keep blabbering and slurring his words. Almost incomprehensible between all the moans and whines but you know he's telling you how much he needs and loves you.

Wally will make sure you have everything you need after, clean up, get you something to drink and crawl back into bed to cuddle until you both fall asleep. 

[starl1ghtgr4yson]

BABY, WAKE UP…

After a long night of patrol/training, you find your boyfriend passed out. Naturally, you take this as an opportunity to execute another prank; setting up a fake Uno pile, fanning out a hand directly into his sleepy grip, and waking him up insisting it’s his turn.

characters: Jason Todd, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Damian Wayne, Conner Kent x Reader

Jason Todd

The plan was foolproof. While Jay was out cold on his side of the bed, you quietly shuffled the deck, set up a random discard pile right on the duvet, and expertly fanned out four cards to slip straight into his massive, relaxed palm. You smoothed down the blanket, took your seat, and nudged his chest.

"Jay. Baby. Come on, it’s your turn. You’ve been taking forever."

You pout, “I’m getting impatient. And you’re just sleeping.”

Jason grunts, his brow furrowing as his brain painfully tries to boot back up. His fingers automatically clamp onto the cards. He blinks heavily, squints at the bright green and red cards in his grip, and you can see the sheer confusion hit him—followed immediately by the stubborn refusal to admit he was passed out.

He forces himself to sit up, dragging a hand aggressively down his face and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, refusing to give up and lay back down. Voice raspy and deep as hell, he stares intensely down at his hand, shifting the cards around in slow motion.

"I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking," he lies, his voice totally shot. He leans forward, bleary-eyed, meticulously scanning your fake pile. "What's... what's on top? Is that a green?" He stubbornly forces his heavy eyelids open, carefully picks a green card out, and slaps it down like a grandmaster. "There. Go."

Wally West

Wally was sleeping so deeply he was practically drooling on his pillow. Perfect. You fanned out five cards, tucked them gently between his fingers, and made sure the discard pile looked legit right in frost of him. You tapped his arm with a tired sigh.

"Wally. Hey. Lay a card down, you're holding up the game."

Wally snaps his eyes open, completely disoriented. He looks down at his hand, blinks twice, and panic immediately sets in—he thinks he blew his turn and lost his streak. He refuses to go back to sleep. He forces himself up onto his elbows, shaking his head like a wet dog to fight the massive wall of tiredness, completely buying into the trap.

"Wait, wait, sorry baby, my bad, my bad," he stammers out, his voice a pathetic, sleepy whine. He squints hard at his cards, shuffling them back and forth with clumsy fingers, his forehead creased in absolute, intense concentration. "Did you... did you play a yellow? Sweetie, tell me what color it is, my eyes are blurry." He stubbornly sits there, fighting for his life against sleep, until he finally drops a Yellow 2 and looks at you with absolute, half-awake seriousness. "Okay, hit me."

Dick Grayson

Dick was dead to the world after patrol, curled on his side. You carefully laid out a trick hand, slid six cards into his palm, and set up the fake table right on the mattress. You leaned down and whispered right in his ear.

"Dickie. Stop slacking, it's your turn."

He lets out a heavy, groggy sigh, his eyelids fluttering open. He stares blankly at the cards in his hand for a long three seconds. Instead of falling back asleep, he complies, because of course, he has to trust his amazing girlfriend. He grunts, forcing himself to sit halfway up and propping his head on one hand, completely committed to staying awake for the "match."

He holds the fan of cards up right in front of his face, squinting so hard one eye is basically closed. "I'm not slacking..." he mutters, his voice super thick and raspy. He carefully reorganizes his hand, tapping a card against his chin in deep thought while fighting off a yawn. "Is that a Blue 4? Okay. Don’t rush me. Hold on." He meticulously selects a card, lays it down with dramatic focus, and squints up at you. "Your turn sweetie.”

Roy Harper

Roy had taken a "five-minute nap" that turned into two hours. You placed a stack of fake played cards on the blanket, carefully placed a fan of seven cards into his grip, and shook his shoulder.

"Roy. Wake up, you're up."

Roy grunts, a dry, scratchy sound, and blinks open two bleary eyes.

“Up for wha— oh right.” He looks down at the cards, and you can practically hear his brain trying to load at 1%. But Roy isn't a quitter. He groans softly, forcing himself to sit up against the headboard, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his palm to snap out of it.

"...What was played?" he rasps out, his voice totally rough. He stares intensely down at his cards, fanning them out with heavy, slow movements, totally convinced he's mid-game. He stubbornly stays upright, blinking against the room light, carefully picking out a Red 6 and laying it on the pile. "There. Back to you."

Damian Wayne

Damian would never admit to being caught off guard, which made him the ultimate target. While he was dead asleep post-training, you delicately slid four cards between his fingers, placed the deck down, and crossed your arms.

"Damian. Hurry up, it's your turn."

His eyes instantly open, sharp even through the haze of sleep. He looks down at his hand, and for a split second, total confusion flashes across his face. But his pride won't allow him to back down or drop the cards. He immediately sits bolt upright, rigid as a board, holding his hand close to his chest so you can't peek.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second to force the drowsiness away, squinting severely at his hand. "I am well aware," he lies in a low, crackly morning voice. He takes an agonizingly long time analyzing his four cards, fighting every urge to crash back onto his pillow, just to make a "calculated" move. He solemnly lays down a Wild card with absolute precision. "Blue. Proceed."

Conner Kent

Conner was passed out hard, snoring softly. You quickly set up the illusion—cards scattered, a neat discard pile, and five cards tucked firmly into his fingers. You poked his shoulder.

"Con, come on, stop taking so long."

Conner groans, shaking his head, his heavy eyelids barely parting. He looks down at his palm, and the utter panic of someone who thinks they fell asleep mid-hangout hits him. He forces himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, dragging both hands over his face to force his brain awake.

"Shoot— sorry, I was just... thinking," he stammers out, completely tricked. He holds his cards up, squinting heavily through his messy hair, intensely analyzing the hand. He shifts the cards around between his thumbs, completely locked in. "Wait, what's the number on top? A five?" He hovers a card over the pile, double-checking it with dead seriousness before dropping a Draw Two with a smug, sleepy grin. "Boom. Draw two. Try and keep up."

Taglist: @leovaldez0924 @newangelle @pxrcyjcksons @rani1028 @maradcrs @purelypersistentribe @cecillia-stuff @sarahskywalker-amidala @starrydustedwinter @brucewayneisavirgin @idkwhattosaynowsorry @sexy-sadie-6505 @steadyclarityparadox @fireriyu

[starl1ghtgr4yson]

YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Summary: you come home, very drunk, and see a very hot guy sitting on your couch… so naturally you ask him out!

It starts with a simple, high-pitched gasp in the middle of your living room.

Jason is sitting on the couch in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, laptop on his knees, mid-snack, when you stumble through the front door. You’re wearing one of his oversized jacket slung over your shoulders, your cheeks flushed red from two too many margaritas with your friends, and your hair a complete, chaotic masterpiece.

He sets his laptop aside immediately, a half-amused, half-concerned smirk already forming on his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was girls' night—"

He doesn't get to finish. The moment your eyes land on him, your hands fly to your face, covering your red-hot cheeks. You freeze in place, staring at him through your fingers as if you’ve just spotted a celebrity in a coffee shop.

"Oh," you whisper loud enough for the whole apartment complex to hear. "Oh my god."

Jason blinks, pausing. "What?"

You kick off your shoes—completely missing the rack—and take three deliberate, overly cautious, drunk steps toward the couch. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and completely starstruck.

"Who are you?" you ask, leaning over the back of the couch, resting your chin on your folded hands. You beam at him, giggling softly. "Because you are... so pretty. Like so hot. Has anyone ever told you that? You look like a whole movie star."

Jason slowly looks down at his faded t-shirt, then back up at you. A playful glint flickers in his blue eyes as the reality hits him: You have completely forgotten you're already dating him.

"A movie star, huh?" Jason drawls, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can't say I hear that one often. I'm Jason."

"Jason," you sigh, the name rolling off your tongue like a melody. You sway slightly where you stand, blushing down to your collarbone. "That's a nice name. I'm... well, you know. I'm me."

"Nice to meet you, Me," he says softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register he knows makes you melt. "What's a girl like you doing flustered in my living room?"

"I live here! I think?" You look around the apartment, thoroughly confused for a split second, before your focus snaps right back to him like a magnet. You lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Listen... I know this is crazy, but... are you single?"

You pause, then giggle, “wanna know a secret? I actually wanna marry you but I think asking you if you’re single is less advanced.”

Jason bites his lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide a massive grin. "Am I single? Well... that's a tough question."

Your face falls instantly into a dramatic, adorable pout, and you genuinely look devastated. "Oh no. You have a girlfriend?"

"I do," Jason says softly, watching your reaction.

"Is she pretty?" you ask, sniffling just a little bit, clearly heartbroken.

"She's gorgeous," Jason says, his voice softening. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently, and pulls you over the back of the couch until you tumble right onto his lap. You gasp, your hands landing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "She’s got this ridiculously cute laugh, gets super giggly when she drinks, and is currently sitting on my lap looking at me like I hung the moon."

You stare at him, your brain slowly churning through the alcoholic fog.

1... 2... 3 seconds pass.

"Wait," you whisper, your eyes going wide. "I just drank and I am fairly giggly."

"You are."

"And I'm on your lap."

"You are."

"...I'm the pretty girlfriend?!"

Jason couldn't hold it back anymore; he threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through his chest against your palms. "Yes, dummy. You're the pretty girlfriend. We've been together for over a year."

A look of pure, unadulterated triumph washes over your face. You kick your feet up, burying your burning face right into the crook of his neck, muffled giggles spilling out against his skin. "I scored so hard," you mutter into his collar. "He's huge and he's mine."

"Yeah, yeah, you hit the lottery," Jason chuckled, his broad arms wrapping snugly around your waist, pulling you close so you wouldn't slide off. He kissed the top of your head, resting his chin on your hair. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water and into bed before you try to ask me out again."

"Wait!" You pop your head back up, cheeks still bright red, poking his chest with a single finger. "So... does this mean you won't go on a date with me?"

Jason shook his head, a soft, fond smile softening his rugged features. "I'll take you on a date every single day of the week, sweetie. Now go to sleep."

[starl1ghtgr4yson]

ᰔ 𝓢ugar High ˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—

｡𖦹°‧ Pairing — Jason Todd x fem!reader

｡𖦹°‧Content/summary — What starts as you taking up baking as a hobby quickly turns into a full-blown crisis. Jason goes from dutifully eating your rock-hard practice brownies to becoming addicted to your homemade pastries. He gains a little comfortable soft layer over his abs, smells like vanilla and cinnamon 24/7, and couldn't care less what his brothers have to say about it.

At this point, it was getting ridiculous.

When you first started baking, Jason was basically a hero just for swallowing the messes you made. Chocolate chip cookies that tasted like straight salt, loaves of sourdough dense enough to dent the wall, and strawberry cupcakes that tasted like garlic…!

He ate all of it anyway. Sitting on the counter in his sweatpants, jaw working overtime through a brick-hard brownie, crumbs flying everywhere. "Baby, it’s not bad…. you’re getting better. You should keep going.”

So you did. You learned how to brown butter, and mastered high-fat pastries.

And that's when Jason officially lost his mind.

Now, the apartment constantly smelled so sweet it was almost criminal. Warm yeast, caramelized sugar, browning butter, and that heavy, rich scent of real vanilla bean that hung in the air.

It got to the point where Jason smelled like it 24/7. It didn't matter if he'd just spent six hours fighting guys in a damp sewer—the second he pulled off the red helmet, he didn't smell like Gotham air or cordite anymore. He smelled ridiculously like warm vanilla bean and spicy cinnamon. It clung to his skin, his hair, his jacket, even his sweat. It was his natural scent at this point.

And he was completely, hopelessly feral for it.

The man was eating continuously. You’d wake up at three in the morning to the sound of plastic wrap rustling in the dark, finding him leaning against the fridge in his boxers, shoving a cold, glaze-covered cinnamon roll into his mouth before he’d even turned the light on. He’d come home from patrol covered in rain and soot, kick his boots off, and walk straight past you to grab a warm vanilla cupcake off the cooling rack.

Not one. Three. In about thirty seconds flat.

You’d sit on the counter and watch him eat like he’d been starving uin the desert, his eyes half-shut, frosting smeared across his thumb. He didn't even use plates anymore. Just stood there in his gear, breathing in the sweet bakery air of the kitchen, completely hooked.

Naturally, eating his weight in heavy cream, butter, and sugar every single day caught up with him.

He was still huge—the man was broad as a barn and could still throw a guy through a windshield—but the tight, shrink-wrapped abs were completely gone. In their place was a noticeably soft, solid layer. A cozy kind of soft. The kind where resting your head on his chest while watching TV felt ten times better because he actually had some padding over his ribs—and he smelled like a fresh tray of cinnamon buns while you cuddled him.

He didn't care. He was living in a sugar-induced bliss.

The rest of the family, unfortunately, had eyes (and noses).

It came to a head on a Tuesday in the Batcave. Jason was leaning back against the console, jacket half-unzipped, lazily listening to Bruce rant about precinct logs.

Dick walked past, stopped dead in his tracks, and sniffed the air like a hound dog before looking right at Jason’s middle. Before Jason could react, Dick darted a hand out and jabbed a finger right into his side.

"Dude," Dick said, his mouth twitching into a wide grin. "Are you getting... doughy? And why do you smell like a bakery?"

Tim didn't look up from his screen, but he snorted into his mug. "It's all he eats. Every time I radio him, I can hear him chewing a muffin. He literally smells like sweet vanilla from ten feet away. He's an addict."

"It's embarrassing," Damian muttered from across the room, scowling over a batarang. "You look like you're preparing to hibernate, Todd. And you smell like a confectioner's shop. Your conditioning is shot."

Jason didn't even blink. He reached out, slapped Dick’s hand away hard enough to leave a red mark, and reached straight into his inner jacket pocket.

He pulled out a soft, foil-wrapped vanilla bun you’d snuck into his gear before he left, peeled the foil back with his teeth, and shoved half of it into his mouth right in front of them.

"Cry about it," Jason mumbled around a mouthful of soft dough, icing sticking to the corner of his lip. "You guys are up here eating cardboard protein bars and drinking grass water. My girl makes these from scratch. Every day. I'm taking this to my grave."

Dick stared at the bun, the smug look instantly evaporating as the rich smell of cinnamon drifted across the cave. "...Is that cream cheese frosting?"

Jason zipped his jacket up over his soft stomach with zero shame, smelling like pure vanilla sugar, and took another huge bite.

"Don't even breathe near it, Dick. Get your own girl."

They should have left it at that. But Dick and Tim thought it would be funny to test the theory.

The next afternoon, while Jason was out doing a routine sweep of Crime Alley, Dick swiped the tin of fresh cinnamon rolls and the box of vanilla-bean cupcakes you’d sent Jason off with for the shift.

They realized their mistake within two hours.

Without his daily influx of sugar and butter, Jason didn't just get annoyed—he turned downright vicious.

By hour three of patrol, his radio comms were just a series of low, terrifying snarls. When Tim tried to check in on a lead, Jason cut him off by telling him to "shut your mouth before I cave your visor in." When a mugger in an alley hesitated to put his weapons down, Jason didn't negotiate; he threw the guy through a brick wall, kicked his gun across the street, and slammed the alley door so hard the hinges bent.

By the time everyone regrouped in the Batcave, the tension was suffocating.

Jason practically stomped down the glass stairs, helmet yanked off, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles were twitching. His hair was sticking up, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked ready to murder a man with his bare hands.

"Where is it," Jason snapped, his voice dangerously quiet, stepping right into Dick's personal space.

Dick swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that a withdrawal-addicted Red Hood was not a joke. "Jay, calm down, we just—"

"I asked you a question, Dickhead," Jason barked, slamming a heavy tactical gauntlet onto the main console hard enough to rattle the monitors. "Where are the fucking cinnamon rolls."

You would’ve thought Dick killed someone by the way Jason was staring at him,

"We took them!" Tim blurted out, holding up hands in surrender from behind his chair. "We wanted to see if you were actually addicted! You've been a nightmare on comms all night, man, you're literally going through sugar withdrawal!"

"Give. Them. Back." Jason’s eyes narrowed into slit-like glares. "I have had a twelve-hour day, my head hurts, I smell like cheap exhaust, and I am five seconds away from beating both of you into the concrete if my girl's baking isn't back in my hands."

Dick frantically reached under the desk, pulling out the sealed tin and handing it over like a bomb squad tech disarming an explosive.

Jason snatched the tin, popped the lid off immediately, and took a massive, angry bite out of a roll. He stood there in the middle of the cave, breathing heavily, chewing aggressively while staring daggers at both of them.

Within thirty seconds, as the soft dough and heavy glaze hit his system, his shoulders slowly dropped. The vein pulsing in his temple calmed down. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, the scary edge melting away as that familiar, warm vanilla aroma washed over him again.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gave Dick one last, lethal glare, and hugged the tin tightly against his chest, his softer stomach pressing into the metal lid.

"Don't ever," Jason grunted, walking back toward the Batmobile, "touch my food again."

Requested by @nightwingsbabydoll tysm! This was so fun to write.

Taglist: @leovaldez0924 @newangelle @pxrcyjcksons @rani1028 @maradcrs @purelypersistentribe @cecillia-stuff @sarahskywalker-amidala @starrydustedwinter @brucewayneisavirgin @idkwhattosaynowsorry @sexy-sadie-6505 @steadyclarityparadox @fireriyu

[allthingsflavorful]

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

wally west who never fucks you at a human speed, always going just slightly too fast, enough that no one else could ever compare.

who's hips press against your ass in a perfectly normal rhythm, measured and rough in the way any normal guy would. but after so long being fucked wally's way, it's no longer enough.

you, who begins to squirm on his cock, pressing your own hips back against his in a silent plea for more, letting out a frustrated whine when his pace doesn't quicken, a soft laugh escaping the man behind you.

eventually it becomes too much to handle and you break, finally begging the way he wants you to, endless pleas falling from your lips only to be replaced with sharp moans as he speeds up, fucking you the way he always has

you cum pretty much almost immediately but he doesn't stop, he never stops at one, speeding up at an even more inhuman pace.

but you asked for this, you can't complain

[froggibus]

— Eat Your Heart Out!

Includes: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Barry Allen and Hal Jordan

Summary: during a party game, he gets flustered from kissing you :p

Content/CW -> gn! reader, abt ~500 words a part, light teasing, being flustered, the boys being menaces, making out, slightly suggestive, lmk if i forgot anything

requested by the lovely amazing @gothamorphosis

froggi yaps -> did you miss me? cause i missed you :p im back and better than ever, i got soooo much motivation to write rn, i literally wrote this in less than 2 hours. i hope you guys like it cause i had a lot of fun writing it <3

Dick Grayson:

Jason Todd shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want to be here. And yet, he had nothing better to do and the opportunity to get Dick back for what he did to him last week was just too good.

He almost feels bad when he finishes telling Dick what his dare is and sees the horrified look on your face. He clocks it immediately—the way your mouth presses into a line, the way you’re suddenly shaking your leg, the way you can’t even look at Dick.

“That’s a stupid dare.”

You nod in agreement but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little disappointed. Why wouldn’t he want to make out with you?

Jason simply shrugs. “You can always choose truth if you’re feeling shy.”

It’s the way Jason says it that has your ears perking up. You risk a glance at Dick only to see him staring right at you, offering a sheepish smile. You nod, ever so slightly, the quietest signal that what he’s about to do is okay.

Dick rises to his feet and your heart jumps into your throat. You set your cup on the coffee table and match his movements, standing up on shaky legs. Your pulse picks up with every step closer to Dick and you’re painfully aware of the distance between you growing shorter and shorter.

Eyes are on you, the rest of the people in the room—Dick’s friends, mostly—watching with bated breath.

As if the universe doesn’t hate you enough in this moment, you stumble over your own feet, Dick catching you in his arms and pulling you against his chest. 

“I gotcha.”

You’re at a loss for words, everything you could possibly say right now caught in your throat. You settle under his touch, forcing yourself to take deep breaths to keep yourself cool through the moment. 

It’s Dick that hesitates. Hands on your waist and lower back, lips only inches from yours, he freezes up. Lucky for him, you don’t.

You press yourself closer to him and tilt your head back, parting your lips to meet his. You catch his bottom lips between yours, eyes fluttering shut, and let yourself move against him. Something woody lingers on his mouth, floods your senses as you kiss him.

Dick tugs you closer, beckoning you in until the space between you is nonexistent. You forget how to breathe for a second, heat crawling up your spine until it suffocates you.

You pull away, Dick grinning goofily at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, his shoulders tensed.

You open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off.

“What’s wrong, Grayson?” Jason heckles. “At a loss for words?”

You’re too busy watching Dick’s own flustered face to realize you’re completely free of any shame, the heat that was rising up your spine having dissipated into nothingness. 

“You feeling alright?” You tilt your head at Dick, a knowing grin on your face.

He shakes his head. “I think I need you to kiss me better.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and oblige.

Wally West:

Wally’s eyes are on you. Your eyes are on the floor. Knots form in your stomach, heat crawls up your spine and you cannot bring yourself to look at the man who just spun the bottle that landed on you.

Roy Harper’s elbow digs into your side. “Hey, we don’t have all night.”

“Asshole.” You mutter.

He snickers in return, clapping a hand on your back and pushing you forwards. You stumble to your feet, eyes still on the ground, and make your way across to you to where Wally’s sitting. More eyes are on you, the eyes of your fellow teammates who absolutely know about the torch you carry for the red haired speedster.

It only sends the heat racing further through your veins. 

Five more steps to Wally. Your heart pounds in your chest, smashing so hard against your ribcage you’re sure it’ll break.

Wally leans back where he’s sitting on the floor, crossing his arms behind his head. You wish you had something to throw at him.

It was his idea to play Spin the Bottle, him who grabbed the empty Pink Whitney bottle that Kory had left laying around and set it on the floor. Him who made you sit through several rounds of this while your nerves only grew more and more. 

You’d been pleading with the universe, to any higher power that would listen, for the bottle to not land on you. But then you’d considered the possibility of having to watch Wally kiss someone else and venom had risen to your throat and then you weren’t sure whether you wanted the bottle to land on you or not.

You swallow hard and force yourself forwards, straddling Wally’s waist and sitting down on the meat of his thighs. You can feel the thick muscle through his jeans, feel it rub against your own thighs as you sit down.

Wally grins at you, cocking his head to the side, red strands falling into his face. “Don’t worry,” he winks. “I’ll be gentle.”

The heat grows unbearable. Your hands shake slightly as you raise them to cup his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And without another thought, you’re leaning forwards and pressing your lips onto his, snaking your hands to the back of his neck to tangle them in his hair.

Wally gasps, tongue darting out to swipe the backs of your teeth. His lips move perfectly in sync with yours, hands grasping at your hips and tugging you in closer. 

A small sound of disappointment slips from his lips when you pull away. His hands don’t leave your hips. His lips are swollen and sticky with saliva, cheeks flushed almost as red as his hair. And somehow, someway, you’re completely fine.

You poke his red cheek. “You feeling okay, Walls?”

“Don’t—don’t even,” he grumbles, fingertips digging into your skin. 

Roy claps his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.

Barry Allen:

You’re not sure why you agreed to play this stupid game. You’re not even sure who came up with the idea to play this. Given almost everyone here is either pushing thirty or well beyond it, you have no idea where seven minutes of heaven even came from.

But now, put on the spot and told to get into the old janitors closet with Barry fucking Allen of all people, you wish you’d never agreed to play. More than that, judging by the stupid smirk on Hal Jordan’s face, you wish you’d never told the stupid Lantern about the torch you carry for Barry.

Hal whistles lowly, looking between you and the speedster. “Come on now, we don’t have all day.”

You flip him the bird and shoot him a glare, a weak distraction from the knots that your stomach has been tied in. Barry’s gaze burns into your face but you can’t bring yourself to look, leaving yourself to wonder if he feels as flustered as you do right now.

You glance at the closet, the door haunting you. The sound of Barry’s Converse sneakers scuffing against the floor has your head snapping up, eyes finally meeting his. Heat immediately blooms in the pit of your stomach, crawling it’s way through each and every one of your veins.

You swallow hard and force yourself to meet his strides and walk towards the closet.

Hal, not being able to help himself as usual, grins wickedly. “You kids have fun, okay?”

Barry scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you can’t hear. You silently put a curse on the pilot, hoping even more of his hair will go grey.

The door to the closet closes, darkness falls and you find yourself pressed chest to chest with Barry Allen.

“We don’t have to kiss if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

You can barely make out the frown on his face. “I can feel your heart racing,” he mumbles, and it sends a shiver up your spine.

“That doesn’t mean I’m uncomfortable.”

“Then what are you?”

You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the growing tension in this tiny dark closet, or maybe it’s to save yourself from saying something that you’ll great, but suddenly you find your lips pressed against Barry’s.

You expect him to push you away, to want to talk more. You’re not ready for the hunger he responds with, for him to push you against the wall and cup a hand behind your thigh and to graze your lips with his teeth.

It’s not awkward like how you expected it to be. It’s hot and dizzying and has butterflies erupting in your stomach. You kiss him back just as ferociously, snaking your hands up his shoulders and into his hair and tugging on it.

You—a loud knock comes at the door, Barry flinching back from you. You have just enough time to wipe some of the wetness off your mouth before Hal rips the door open and light comes streaming in.

You blink, entirely shocked by the redness of Barry’s cheeks and the complete mess you made of his hair. Hal looks just as surprised as you feel, looking between the mess you made of Barry Allen and your own perfectly composed face.

“Shit,” he says, shaking his head. “You really went for it.”

Barry shoulders past him, grabbing your hand in his. “Shut up, Hal.”

Hal Jordan:

The music blaring from the old bar speakers is almost enough to drown out the sound of Hal Jordan making the last shot in pool. The cue ball clacks against the 8 and you watch with wide eyes as it sails across the table, bounces off the side and perfectly sinks into the pocket he called.

He turns to face you with a toothy grin, pool stick still clutched in his hand. “So?”

Heat rushes to your head as you remember your earlier bet with him. If I get this ball in, he’d said, you have to kiss me like you mean it. 

It was an eye rolling comment, something you’d snorted at despite having a very strong urge to actually kiss him. Not that you’d ever tell Hal that—it would go straight to his head.

But now, faced with the smiling pilot, all messy hair and warm eyes, you kind of wish you hadn’t made that bet.

Barry smiles at you from the other side of the table, his eyes knowing. Your partner at pool, albeit not much help with how clumsy he is, is the only one who knows just how you feel about Hal Jordan. You’re not entirely convinced he didn’t throw the game on purpose just so he can finally stop hearing about Hal Jordan.

You sigh and take a step towards Hal, slowly closing the gap between the two of you. You’re a few inches away when Hal suddenly rests a hand on the small of your back and tugs you flush against him, his lips hovering mere centimetres away from yours.

The breath catches in your throat. You close the gap between you, moving your lips against his. The taste of leftover whiskey and smoke on his lips fills your mouth, the flavour an odd comfort among your racing heart and frayed nerve ends.

Hal’s hand is warm on your back, his body radiating heat through yours. You pull away and swallow away your nerves, forcing a brave smile.

“That good enough for you, Jordan?” You say and you’re entirely surprised you managed to say it without stuttering.

His cheeks are flushed, mouth slightly open as he looks at you in surprise. “I don’t—”

You laugh and Dinah Lance, propped against the counter next to Oliver, wolf whistles. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You go to take a step back only for Hal to catch your wrist. “What, do you want round 2?”

And you should know to never, ever challenge Hal Jordan, especially not when his heart is racing and the adrenaline is hitting him so clearly. Hal tugs you back into him, cupping your chin and smashing his lips back onto yours.

dc masterlist | navigation

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

[reverse-flash-official]

MUAHHAHAHAA!!

IT IS I, THE REVERSE FLASH!

I HAVE COME HERE TO GATHER THE NEGITIVITY AND HATRED OFF OF TUMBLR AND CHANNEL IT TO MY QUEST TO MAKE THE FLASH'S LIFE A LIVING HELL!

(also, if any of you have ideas for ways I can torture The Flash and his family HMU)

[wonderrheartt]

THE POWER OF LOVE

first date with BARRY ALLEN

FLUFF ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ blurb ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ SUMMER EVENT

contains: fluff!, author insert, barry being a social awkward person

REQUESTED!

"DON'T NEED NO CREDIT CARD TO RIDE THIS TRAIN."

There he was, in a hand-me-down suit slightly too big, holding your favourite flowers and nervously glancing around. You were already at the restaurant he picked out — sitting in a booth staring at the blonde man that walked in.

He caught your glance and immediately blushed, nervously walking towards you. Once he got to the booth he offered you the flowers, mumbling under his breath. “Sorry…” Clearing his throat and swallowing the anxiety.

“I’m sorry — that I’m late — trying to find the flowers you like…” He nervously stammered, adjusting his collar and sitting down across from you. Barry cleared his throat again and nervously scratched his head — playing with his warm blonde strands.

“Did you — um — order yet?”

You shook your head, “No I haven't, yet.”

He nodded, “Good.”

Then the server came by and introduced themselves, “Hello, My name is Harry. I’ll be your server today.”

Barry interrupted and smiled shyly, “Hi Harry — I’m Barry.” Causing a smile to form on the waitress's face.

“Our specials are on the front and our drink menu is on the back. What can I get for you?”

You ordered your drink and entree, looking over at Barry. Who smiled while blushing, “I’ll have the same.” The server grabbed the menus and walked away leaving the two of you alone.

Barry smiled at you and reached for your hand, grasping your palm and holding it in his warm hands. “Thank you for agreeing to go out with me.” The server brought out their drinks and breadsticks, placing them down in front of you and Barry.

After countless hours of talking and getting to really know one another, it was time to finally leave the restaurant. Barry grabbed your hand and led you, guiding you down the street to his favourite park. Sitting down next to you on a green bench and watching the scene.

“I had a really great time.” Barry smiled, glancing away from you. He swallowed and took a deep breath, before kissing you on your cheek. “Thank you for finally saying yes.”

You nervously bit your lip and smiled at him, “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

Barry perked up, and grinned, “I’d love to.”

do not repost, translate, feed my work into ai, plagiarize or claim any of my works as your own.

[kitkatscabinet]

BREEDING KINK

pairing | wally west x fem! reader. a/n | 18+ mdni. part of my dc kinktober 2025, for my pookie @froggibus you can have it a little early as a treat

"Wall— Wally," you gasped, fingers lacing through his sweaty locks clinging to the back of his neck, your other hand gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

His lips left a burning trail across your neck, collarbones, chest, anywhere he could reach without pulling away from you, without pulling out.

Time has become a meaningless concept; the seconds have blurred into what feels like hours of Wally lavishing you with his touch, pinning you against the mattress with his warmth until nothing exists outside of him.

His hips cant against yours, punching a whine from your throat. Your voice is hoarse from chanting his name, the only word you can manage to conjure anymore in your fucked out state, "Wall-y."

"Yeah, baby? Feels good?" He grunts, reaching for your hand clutching at the bed sheets and intertwining your fingers with his.

"S'too much." You slur, tongue heavy and thighs trembling from the last three orgasms your relentless husband had pulled from you.

"Shhh," he soothes, moving to pepper kisses over your jaw and cheeks wet with tears, pulled from the near-overwhelming pleasure Wally was granting you, "you're doing so good, honey, feel so good."

"Wally, I can't—"

"Yes, you can. One more, baby, just one more." He pleads, free hand running down your stomach before his fingers brush over your swollen clit, making you yelp and jolt.

"You can do that for me? Be a good girl and give me one more? Take everything I give you?" There's a slight furrow in his brow, beads of sweat trailing down his neck, tantalisingly.

All you can do is nod, eyes rolling back as your mouth falls open in a soundless scream, a sharp contrast to Wally's breathless rambles, "Gonna fill you up, and you're gonna take it for me, aren't you? M'gonna make you a mama. You're gonna be such a pretty mama."

There's a reverent fever to his words. Which, combined with his expert touch, and your sensitivity, has your orgasm tearing through you with a shout of his name, your nails scraping over his scalp.

"That's it, honey, shit—" he hisses, hips faltering as you clench down on him, and that's all it takes before he's following you over the edge, spilling warm ropes of cum deep inside of you.

He collapses gently against you, nuzzling into your neck, arms wrapping around your waist as an anchor. He's still inside you, with no indication he's moving anytime soon. Wally hikes one of your thighs over his waist, pressing deeper into you.

"Wally—" You whine, only for him to cut you off with a gentle kiss as he murmurs against your lips.

"Gotta stay like this, make sure it takes. You wanna be a mama, don't you? Wanna have my baby?"

You barely nod once before he's off again, grinding slowly and coaxing a string of punched-out noises from your chest, "then I'm staying right here, gotta make sure it takes."

[kqinoras]

checking to see upcoming dc releases but they all look like this:

batman: stuck in gotham 🌪️🌩️🏚️

batman: dark, doomed, and dangerous 🕯️🃏🎩

batman: window washer wayne 🫧🪣🪟

batman: aquaman special 🌊🐡🔱

batman: the darkest of the knights 🗡️🦇🪦

batman: he adopts another kid 🧑🧃🥊

batman: alfred pennyworth, year 2 🤵‍♂️💼🔎

superman family fun bonanza extravaganza 🤾‍♂️🛝🎳

wonder woman: amazons of the artic (written by tom king) ❄️🔭🌌

harley quinn: harleen’s third boob 💄👠❗️

[yunyuu]

[invincibabe]

For such an easily flustered boy, your boyfriend is very greedy. He’s always biting off more than he can chew and paying the price later on when he’s face to face with you and can’t form a proper sentence. You think it’s the cutest thing on earth—he thinks that he has a cursed mind and even more fucked up mouth for thinking he could ever own up to everything he had stated in your text messages. “Promise I’ll make you feel good, babe.” “Can’t wait to taste how fucking sweet you are on my tongue.” And now he’s sitting on the edge of your bed—still in his suit from patrols—refusing to touch even a sliver of your skin. That’s right, the cocky superhero who has saved the city more times than you could count on two hands was a nervous wreck. “You can touch me, you know?” You giggle, he doesn’t. His cheeks flush a peachy color as he scoots just a few inches closer. “I–I know that, was getting to that part,” He murmurs, a rough palm landing on your thigh with hesitance. He leans in just a little closer, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your skin. “See what you do to me? Make me so damn nervous, and hard, especially that.” He huffs, fingers fondling your soft flesh. “Yeah? I bet you love it, though.” You tease back, breath caressing the tip of his nose. His head snaps to the side like you just set off a bomb. You watch the red pigment slowly develop on his cheekbone—then spread to his nose.

“Fuck—yeah, I do. Way too much,” His lips quirk up into a soft smile, and the tent in his pants grows by half an inch.

[internetb3by]

"more?" he coos, hot breath fanning against your ear "but, baby I thought it was 'too much'?" he continues slapping the tip of his cock against your swollen bundle of nerves. earning him more of your delicious whines.

he's been at this for what feels like forever. playing with you, rubbing at your sensitve bundle of nerves until you're begging for more, only to stop when you get too close. letting your eyes fill up with hot tears of frustration as you tremble underneath him. it's not fair.

"but you're a big girl, huh? you can take more" he whispers into your ear, sinking the swollen head of his cock into you. just barely giving you what you need before you start whining again.

he chuckles, a boyish grin spreading over his features. "thaaaats it. just needed my cock huh, sweet girl." he says thrusting the tip of his cock in and out of your puckering hole. you nod desperately, mewling out little broken pleas as he takes his time. painstakingly sinking his cock into inch by inch.

[wonderrheartt]

FIREMAN

body worship with WALLY WEST

MDNI ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ blurb ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ SUMMER EVENT

contains: body worship, bondage, submissive wally, oral, hyperspermia, unprotected sex

requested!

"KISSING IN THE CHAOS OF A KELPY SEA."

His pale flesh covered in countless freckles, his ghostly nipples on display. Pressing kisses up and down his chest, and licking his pale nipples sporadically. Your hand rested on his fuzzy patch of a ginger happy trail. Your kisses were covered in lipstick transferring every time you pecked his skin. His leaking and eager cock begging to be played with, wishing you would just lower your hand to grab it and play with him. Eventually with some whimpering from Wally’s lips — you traveled down to his eager member and lazily pumped it, egging on the poor tied up Wally. “Please…”

Ghostly pale with an abundance of freckles that scattered onto his shaft, a trimmed bush of ginger surrounds the leaking manhood. Pasty pink cockhead that was narrow on top, with a clear milky dribble escaping. It was long and slender and slightly leaned upwards, his pre-cum dropping onto his pubic bone.

Then your hands left his needy cock, causing Wally to whine. Your hands run down his meaty thighs, gripping the flesh and kneading it. His peach fuzz tickling your palms. His quads were bigger than your head, and his glutes made yours look underwhelming. “Baby, please… I — I need it.” Wally whined, his voice soft and cracking from pure need.

His hips bucked upwards and his head fell backwards, his fists clenched as he pretend tries to escape out of his makeshift cuffs.

Your fingers dance to his cock, more eager than ever. Taking him in your mouth and twirling your tongue around his cockhead. Pulling off with a pop — only to take him in his mouth fully, and staring into his green eyes, making eye contact while you pleasure him. His hips bucking into your mouth wishing you would take more of him. Moving up and down his cock, hearing the soft whimpers escaping his throat.

“Fuck— Ride my dick — Please, baby.”

His hips thrusting upwards into your glistening cunt, his dick vibrating inside of you. His abs are tense, clenching as he slowly bounces you up and down on his cock. Your lips let out the loudest moan, the pleasure from the vibrating sensation and feeling his cockhead brush against your walls as you grind down on him.

“Fuck — Baby — finnacum!”

Thick ropes of cum coat your cervix and walls, the sticky and white load slowly drips out of you and down his cock. Feeling each spray flick on your walls, the sheer volume of his load bloating your belly. Leaking out of you and sticking to your inner thighs and his, eventually ending up on the white cotton sheets that you would have to rewash.

©wonderrheartt ꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ do not repost, translate, feed my work into ai, plagiarize or claim any of my works as your own.