008

series masterlist

vampire!jason will only drink your blood if he can worship you simultaneously. because this isn't about him — it can't all be about him. it's about you.

you're giving him the very essence of your life so that he can remain strong. you're allowing him access to the the most important part of you. to the thing that you need to survive. he cannot take, and not give anything in return. he cannot drink and not show you how thankful he is. 

he'd spent an hour before this proving to you — to himself — that he can be soft. that he's so much more than the sharp fangs that can take your life. 

he'll lay you on your back. then, he'll explore your ankles, your knees, up your inner thighs with gentle lips and even gentler hands. he can be gentle. jason is gentle. then hungrily — because he can't help himself, your scent had been tempting him from the beginning — up your slit, sinking his tongue as deep inside you as he can. 

one orgasm for sure, maybe two (usually two) if jason is feeling particularly needy. he needs to get you ready, he does. 

he won't stop until your thighs are quivering around his ears, till your fingers are tugging on his hair, till your whines and pleads for him are so insistent that he slowly begins to believe that what he is doing to you is okay. his lips will meet every inch of exposed skin on the side of your neck next. his kisses are soft, barely pressing against you — he's unwilling to risk bruising before his fangs can inflict their violence upon your innocent skin.

he'll prop himself up over you, gazing at your face. your pretty face. eyes lidded and glassy, lips shining and bitten through from your own teeth. beautiful. he loves you so much. so much. he'll kiss you after that, seal his lips over yours. his tongue presses against the wall of your teeth, tasting you again, and allowing you to taste yourself on him. 

just the press of your lips will unlock a ferocity in him, will crumble his restraint so fast it's like he never had it. he'll nudge his tip against your entrance before sliding in halfway in one go. 

your soft gasp, followed by a happy whine, slides down jason's thoat. he's full of you. his entire being is consumed by you. it warms him, allows his hollow body to remember what it felt like to tingle. because your touch emulates that in him. the way your fingers trail his skin — solid and strong — and he can feel it. phantom goosebumps rise across the back of his neck, phantom mechanoreceptors call out to you, kissing your fingertips in return wherever they explore. a thank you for not thinking he disgusting, for not being afraid of him, for loving him enough that he can feel human again. 

he'll slide in the rest of the way, mumbling praising into your mouth. 

"feel so good for me, angel,"

"fuck — need you to stay still, baby, not gonna last," 

"wanna feel you like this forever, want you forever, please—"

it's slow. loving. hard thrusts angled juuuust right. right at the spot that has your eyes fluttering back, your mouth drying up, brain short-circuiting to the point that you forget you're supposed to be kissing jason back. 

only then. only then will jason tilt your head to the side, trailing his nose along your jugular and sinking his fangs as deep into your neck as they'll go. 

your reaction remains the same every time. muscles clenching and fluttering around his cock, squeezing him tight, pulling him impossibly deeper. your hand will always find his, fingers intertwining against the bed, one squeeze, two squeeze, three squeeze, i love you. 

jason drinks as his hips grind into you, no longer thrusting, just feeling, the pleasure you feel from his fangs is enough. it's just as addicting for you as it is for him, you even ask for him to drink from you more often despite jason's chagrin — the thought of causing you even an ounce of pain makes him feel sick. 

his free thumb will meet your clit, rubbing quick swipes around the nub until you come again, with him following right after. the relief is immediate, evident in the tiny whimpers that jason vibrates against your neck. he was already close to blowing his load against the bed when you had come on his tongue the first time. each grind of his hips against yours, each squeeze of his fingers on whatever part of your body they can reach, each lap of his tongue against your neck is a thank you and an apology all in one. 

when he pulls away, when his fangs finally retract from your skin, he'll keep his face buried in your neck. he'll keep his tongue pressed against the two tiny wounds, lapping at them. he tells himself it's to make sure his healing venom sticks, that it covers each crevice of the wound, but jason knows deep down he's being selfish. you almost always come again every time he does it, small shudders jittering up your spin, walls contracting around him still nestled deeeep inside you, chest arching into his. the excess blood from your neck wound explodes on his tongue from where it is pressed flat and he savours it because he believes this is the last time he'll ever get to taste you like this. he thinks the other shoe has to drop soon. 

it should.

you should run. 

but you dont. you never do. you stay. arms wound tightly around him, keeping him close. trusting. loving. you snuggle into him like jason didn't just have your life in his hands, as if he hadn't been that close to taking your life if he didn't have the restraint he does.

you stay afterwards. you always do. 

an: vamp!jason comeback on a random sunday in june??? yup!

#drabble.ᐟ ⸝⸝ post redemption!superboy prime ⸝⸝ riding ⸝⸝ nervous!clark ⸝⸝ smutty&mdni!! .

✦ masterlist　╱　dc masterlist　𓏼 ͜͜

the door to your apartment barely clicks shut before you’re on him like a starved dog, hands fisting in his shirt as you drag him down the hallway toward your bedroom like you’re done with all the polite bullshit. clark lets out a startled laugh, trying to play it cool even as his ears flush pink. he’s trying hard not to show just how turned on he is by being woman-handled like that. “i wasn’t gonna leave this time, i swear,” he mutters against your mouth, voice soft and just a little bit whiny, but you both know that’s a load of crap—he’s been pulling excuses for weeks. too scared to fuck you because well… for starters, he’s never done this before. and secondly he’s scared of hurting you. adorable, right?

you push him until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sits down hard, glasses slipping, and eyes wide as you peel your dress off in one smooth motion. black lace bra, matching panties. fuck, the way he stares makes heat pool low in your belly.

“jesus,” he mutters under his breath, hands twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know what the hell to do with them.

you straddle his lap fast, knees bracketing his hips, and grind down once just to feel him. “clark,” you breathe, already working his shirt open button by button and shoving it off those broad, tense shoulders. “i’ve been patient enough. you’re not backing out tonight.”

“yeah?” his voice comes out rougher than he probably means, trying to sound confident as his palms settle on your waist. “guess i finally came to my senses.” his fingers are warm against your skin, but you catch the slight tremble he’s trying to hide.

you smirk, grab his right hand, and drag it up until it cups your breast, pressing his palm firm against you. “like this,” you whisper, guiding him. “you’re not gonna break me, clark. i’m not made of glass.”

his breath hitches hard, but he squeezes anyway, thumb brushing over your nipple as you arch into it. he feels it pebble beneath his finger and you feel his cock twitch under you, thick and straining against his jeans already.

“you’re really sure?” he asks, voice low, trying to smirk even as his other hand stays hesitant. he wonders why there’s no crash course on how to fuck if you’ve got dormant powers and you’re too scared to get in bed with a lady because of them.“i’m… kinda new to the whole ‘not accidentally leveling a building during sex’ thing.” he leans in like he’s got this, kissing the side of your neck, then lower, lips brushing the swell of your tit while his fingers explore more boldly now that you’ve shown him it’s okay. reassurance is important with a guy who’s done the shit he has.

you moan softly and roll your hips again, feeling how hard he is. “take my bra off.”

his hands shake just a little undoing the clasp, but he manages, letting the lace fall away. he stares for a second, then both hands are on you, squeezing, thumbs circling your nipples until they’re tight and aching. when you gasp his name he gains just a little bit of confidence, enough to lean in and suck one into his mouth, tongue flicking wet and hot. “fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters against your skin, voice rough as hell. “been thinking about this… a lot.”

“yeah?” you grind down harder on the thick bulge in his pants, feeling him throb like he’s about to burst any minute. “you’ve been jerking off thinking about me, haven’t you?” it was a lucky shot, but the way he chuckles nervously and his face flushes tells you you hit the nail on the head with it.

his ears burn red but he tries to play it cocky. like he doesn’t feel like a teenage virgin. “i— maybe.” he squeezes harder when you moan, hips bucking up once like he can’t help it. “can you blame me? look at you.”

you push him flat on his back, working his belt open fast and shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs. his cock springs up, thick and flushed, leaking at the tip, veins standing out along the shaft. “shit— you’re big,” you murmur appreciatively, wrapping your hand around him and giving one slow, firm stroke from base to head, spreading the precum.

clark hisses through his teeth, head dropping back. “f-fuck— easy, i’m—” he bites the inside of his cheek hard, but his hips jerk up into your fist anyway, chasing the heat. the friction he’s needed for so fucking long. finally it’s not his own miserable hand that’s fucking him.

you lean over him, lips brushing his ear as you keep pumping him lazy and tight. “relax, baby. i’ve got you.” you kiss down his chest, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing the lines of muscle while your hand twists just right at the head on every upstroke. every time he tenses like he’s about to get too in his head, you squeeze harder or drag your thumb over his slit and he loses the words in a groan.

finally you slide your panties off, kicking them aside, and position yourself over him, rubbing his fat tip against your slick, dripping folds. clark’s hands fly to your hips, gripping tight then forcing himself to loosen up, like he’s terrified of leaving any marks or bruises.

“wait—condom?” he asks, voice strained but trying to sound steady. his chest’s heaving now, breathing totally messed up. who can blame him when he’s this close to being inside you.

“on the nightstand. but i’m on the pill and i trust you.” you sink down just enough for his head to catch at your entrance, teasing. “you still nervous?”

he lets out a shaky laugh, but his eyes are dark and hungry when they meet yours. “me, nervous?—okay, a little.”

you smile, the same one that gets him aching, and slowly sink down onto him, inch by thick inch. the stretch is perfect—he fills you so deep your thighs tremble when he bottoms out.

clark’s head falls back against the pillow with a broken groan. “oh my god—you’re so fucking tight— shit—” his fingers dig into your hips, trembling with the effort of staying still, cock pulsing hot and heavy inside you like he’s trying to hold back from blowing his load right then and there.

you moan too, the sound’s music to his ears, adjusting to the fullness, walls fluttering around him. for a second you both stay still, just breathing each other in.

“you okay?” you ask, brushing hair off his forehead and adjusting his skewered glasses for him. he’d forgotten they were even there. he sighs when your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

he nods from behind the foggy frames, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “yeah. just… don’t move yet or i’m gonna embarrass myself.” that crooked, self-deprecating smirk tugs at his mouth, but he’s trying to sound cocky anyway. he really is. “super stamina apparently doesn’t apply when it’s this good.”

you laugh softly and roll your hips once, slow and deep, grinding your clit against him. clark curses loud, hands sliding up your back, pulling you down so your chests press together, skin hot and slick already.

“move,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough and desperate with want. “please. i wanna feel you.”

you start riding him properly then, lifting up and sinking back down, taking him to the hilt every time. clark groans, hips twitching up to meet you, still careful but starting to find the rhythm. his hands stay on your hips, guiding you a little better now, thumbs pressing into your skin like he’s testing how much he can hold on.

“fuck, baby— that feels good,” he mutters, voice gaining a bit more edge. he thrusts up harder on the next downstroke, burying himself deep, and when you moan loud he does it again, a little more sure. “yeah? you like that?”

“mm, yeah— just like that, clark,” you praise, rolling your hips faster, tits bouncing with every movement. he watches them like they’ve hypnotized him, then leans up to catch one in his mouth again, sucking harder while he starts fucking up into you with shallow, eager thrusts.

little by little the hesitation cracks. his grip tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough that you feel it—and his thrusts get deeper and steadier. every time you clench around his thick cock he curses under his breath, but now there’s a cocky little smirk tugging at his lips when he sees how wrecked you look. all because of him—all for him.

“shit, princess… you’re dripping all over me,” he says, voice low and rougher, trying to lean into that confidence. he flips you suddenly—careful but quick—onto your back, settling between your thighs without pulling out. “my turn to take care of you.”

he pushes back in slow at first, watching your face, but when your legs wrap around his waist and you dig your heels into his back he loses a little more of that nervous edge. his hips snap forward harder, cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you on every thrust.

“fuck— you feel so good,” he groans, burying his face in your neck for a second before he pulls back to look at you. “been wanting this… wanted to fuck you right for so long.” his pace picks up, steady and deep now, the wet slap of skin filling the room as he gains more confidence with every moan you give him. his glasses keep tipping off his nose so he eventually just pulls them off entirely, tossing them carelessly onto the nightstand.

you reach up, tugging his hair. “yeah? then don’t hold back, baby. give it to me.”

clark’s eyes darken. he hooks one of your legs higher, spreading you wider, and starts fucking you harder—still very much controlled, still watching for any sign he’s too much, but clearly loosened up enough to get lost in it—in you. his cock stretches you perfectly on every thrust, thick and relentless now that he’s letting himself go a bit more. he can’t believe he’s been running from this and settling for his hands every night. what a fucking idiot.

“like this?” he rasps, all smug but breathy, slamming in deep and grinding against your clit. “tell me how you want it. i can take it… i can handle you.” his free hand slides between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing messy circles, learning fast from the way your pussy clenches tight around him.

you’re moaning his name louder, nails raking down his back, and it only makes him thrust faster, more sure of himself. the nervous virgin from ten minutes ago is starting to disappear under the heat—replaced by a clark who’s fucking you like he’s determined to make up for every single time he ran.

© nagumolvr , you do not have permission to translate, steal, repost, or feed my work to ai.

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FRESHLY MARRIED WAYNE COUPLE SPOTTED IN IBIZA ON THEIR HONEYMOON!

bruce wayne fangirls, prepare your hearts— and perhaps a box of tissues— because gotham’s most eligible bachelor is officially (and devastatingly) off the market! newlyweds bruce wayne and his stunning wife were spotted soaking up the mediterranean sun this week during a luxurious honeymoon getaway in ibiza. the couple, who tied the knot in what many are calling ‘the wedding of the decade’, appeared completely smitten as they enjoyed a rare break from their high-profile lives

fresh paparazzi photos from the couple’s honeymoon show bruce wayne and his wife enjoying a private yacht getaway off the coast of ibiza— and its safe to say neither of them seemed paricualry intrested in anything besides each other

in one photo currently sending social media into a blaze, mrs wayne can be seen perched on top of her husband while the pair float in the ocean on a red and white inflatable ring. the billionaire’s arms are wrapped securely around her waist as the two stare at one another from inches apart, seemingly oblivious to the photographers documenting the moment. witnesses claim the newlyweds spent nearly the entire afternoon attached to the hip “he literally wouldn’t take his hands off her” one source reported. “not that she seemed to mind”

another set of photos reveals the couple lounging together beneath a shaded cabana aboard their yacht. and what began as a quiet afternoon sunbathing quickly turned into an intimate cuddle session, with mrs wayne stretched across her husband’s chest and his arms holding her close. the billionaire appeared completely relaxed— a rare sight for the notoriously reserved businessman

however, the internet’s favorite images remain the now-viral ocean snapshots, gotham royalty floating together in the middle of the crystal blue water as two people completely wrapped up in their own little world. sources are saying that the honeymoon has been intentionally low-key despite the luxury surroundings, with the pair opting to spend most of their time swimming, sunbathing, and enjoying each other’s company away from gotham’s constant spotlight

judging by the photographers, they’re succeeding. as for bruce wayne’s devoted fanbase? our thoughts are with them during this difficult time

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masterlist!

(a/n: knicks won last night 😭)

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @st4rl1ghtgrays0n @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae @darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore (tags are open)

🍒 you don’t like Green Lantern and this disturbs Hal Jordan so much. || fluff. breaking into a house. reader is anxious. reader doesn’t know Hal is GL. ooc? 2022 words. || ⋆˚࿔ this was so hard to write pls go easy on me guys 💔 divider by @bbyg4rlhelps

You didn’t know your ex-colleague and close friend Hal Jordan was such a Green Lantern fan. You never even considered someone other than a child would be a fan of superheroes, let alone one of Green Lanterns. The concept of loving superheroes was further away from you. You never even thought about being a fan of any of them. It wasn’t because you did not appreciate what they were doing, it was because you just didn’t care about them that much. They were like celebrities who actually helped society to you… You were grateful, but not a fan.

bruce wayne's personal assistant who literally does everything for him. makes sure his schedule remains updated, makes sure he is aware of his schedule, and makes sure he is taking care of himself (hard task to achieve). you make sure his coffee order is in his hand the second you see him for the day, you make sure he EATS PROPER MEALS, you make his incredibly difficult life seem easier.

bruce wayne who notices his personal assistant isn't sleeping much, is skipping her own meals, and constantly spins her ring around her finger because he can see the anxiety pushed so far deep inside she doesnt even realize it's there. because of him, because of his schedule, because of the pressure he puts on her due to the life he lives. but you do everything you can to not let him see that side (but nothing gets past the world's greatest detective). you push it down, pick his shit up and keep soldiering through with your shoulders back and your head high.

bruce wayne who has been in love with you since the 5th month you started working for him (no matter how much he huffed and puffed that he didnt need an assistant) and starts taking care of you in RETURN. he makes sure you eat with him, that you get enough hours at night, drives you places, brings you little gifts because he saw it and thought of you, you know?

bruce wayne who is gonna prove to his personal assistant that he can take care of you just as much and as WELL as you take care of him.

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i just knoooooow bruce wayne’s thighs are so meaty

especially when your head was buried in between them, hands gripping them and throat filled with his large hard cock, tears prickling from the corner of your eyes from how he was barely leaving space for you to even breathe. your nails would lightly claw on his thighs, muffled whines heard from you

another thing is that his thighs would for sure have marks of those weapon straps he has on whenever he’s patrolling, red imprints of the belt and batarangs visible when he took it off due to how tight he always had it on

a groan left bruce’s lips, his hand gripping a fistfull of your hair and guiding your mouth on his length. “doin’ so good for me, sweetheart—!” he knocked his head back with a choked moan left his lips when he felt your tongue swirl around his length, brushing on his prominent veins. “fuuuck”

you were deepthroating him so good that his trail was tickling the tip of your nose and his balls were making contact with your chin, a muffled hum from you sending shivers to bruce’s body with a grunt. 

as if that wasn’t enough, your fingertips trailed down to the strap marks on his thighs, feeling the imprint on his skin and tracing a batarang mark that was on his inner thighs. it made bruce’s breathing hitch from his gape lips and his cock in your mouth twitch. his hand in your hair pushed more of his length in— like the entirety wasn’t in already

“breathe from your nose, baby” his other hand came to tilt your chin and meet with your eyes. "thaaaats it, good girl" his hips started to move, noises from him leaving his lips and muffled ones from you. god, bruce was so big there was hardly any room for air to enter through

“just like that, baby. you just kneel down and —fuck— look pretty while i fill up those gorgeous lips of yours, yeah?” 

yum, meaty

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masterlist!

(a/n: THAT FANART I #NEEEEEEEEED THAT also help im writing this while watching the knicks and spurs game)

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @st4rl1ghtgrays0n @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae @darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore (tags are open)

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you didn’t know why, but dick was in a mood today

not from you, never from you. but it might have something to do with his visit back to gotham, and you knew he must have gotten into another disagreement with bruce. you didn’t know what exactly they argued about, but you knew it must have been serious

serious enough that dick needed to take his frustration out old style when he came back to bludhaven— one hand pinning both of your wrists over your head and the other keeping your thigh spread and knees pinned to the mattress, all so he could send another rough thrust of his hips to yours

and when i meant by him taking his frustration out on you, im talking about rapid, deep, rough thrusts, his large cock not giving your pussy mercy in any way shape or form. 

dick moaned over the lewd, harsh sounds of slaps bouncing on the walls, his eyes not leaving yours. that was because of the expression you were giving him— eyes blown wide, lips fully gaping with gasps and moans leaving— a look on your face he’ll never get tired looking at

“give it to me, pretty girl, cmon now” “arch that back— fuuuuuck, thats it” “attagirl, uh huh. milk me dry”

he took his hand out from your thigh and shifted his body to make sure your lower body stayed pinned on the bed, bringing that same hand to tilt your chin up and meet your lips in a hungry, open mouthed kiss

“you have no idea—" he panted on your lips. “how much i need this, babe” another rought thrust and it made you moan loudly on his lips, your walls clenching on his cock that it made him bite your bottom lip with a groan and speed up the pace to catch the intense release he felt forming, the release he needed to clear his mind from bruce, the release only you could give him

and judging by the way dick pulled so many rounds from you, it seems like he isn’t gonna stop any longer. guess you can ask him later

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masterlist!

(a/n: very self indulgent mb)

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @st4rl1ghtgrays0n @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae @darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore (tags are open)

pairings . tim drake x fem!reader ⋮ wc . 4.2k ⋮ fluff ⋮ warnings . none, pure fluff with a hint of suggestive language. nicknames used : babe, baby and sweetheart. notes . miscellaneous tech jargon + very self indulgent and sorta dialogue heavy, maybe ooc tim who knows... first tim fic kinda nervy + also new fic layout ! ⋮ art creds : @/quezartt ⋮

The rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tim’s penthouse apartment like it was trying to break in.

Gotham’s usual gloom had turned into a full downpour by the time the sun usually broke through the clouds, morphing the morning skyline into a blur of bruised pinks and gunmetal greys.

While inside, the world felt miles away. The only lights came from the soft glow of a few dim lamps, a monitor lazily blinking through the open door of an adjacent room, and the TV playing classics your boyfriend ever-so-graciously — albeit illegally — siphoned straight from Toonami Aftermath like premium cable television.

“Moon Princess Halation!”

The exclamation echoed from the wide flat screen and you snorted under your breath, knees tucked under you on the massive sectional as you hunched over the coffee table decorated with scattered tools. Tiny screwdrivers, flush cutters, tiny spools of wire, custom keycaps for an even tinier keyboard and a LED strip that cost more than you wanted to know.

“When’s Yu-Gi-Oh starting?”

A warm, bare chest pressed against your back while two arms slid around your waist. Tim — the boyfriend in question — groaned through a yawn as his chin dropped heavy onto your shoulder, his messy dark hair tickling your cheek. He smelled like sleep and the faint sharpness of menthol from whatever bruise cream he’d been swearing by lately.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you murmured, not looking away from the ribbon cable you were carefully threading into the hollowed-out bottom half of an old Nintendo DS where the second LCD screen should’ve been, but was now waiting to be filled with the custom components you’d been collecting for weeks.

“Mmm. I was,” he rasped, voice still gravelly. One of his hands splayed across your stomach under the hem of your shirt, thumb stroking slow, absent circles. “Then I woke up and my favorite person wasn’t in bed. A sort of cruel and unusual punishment.”

You leaned back into him with a scoff, letting his body heat soak through your clothes, careful not to press back too hard because you remembered the look of the bruise along his ribs — that you assumed was still an ugly bloom of purple and yellow from the last time you looked at it while he slept.

“Hi, baby,” you said softly.

“Morning to you too, sweetheart.” Tim kissed the side of your neck, lazy and lingering, then peered over your shoulder at the half-assembled mess that was his cyberdeck project — or, formerly his cyberdeck project but now yours, since he was supposed to be horizontal and useless for at least two more days.

He pulled away from you only to come around the front. “You’re going too tight on that ribbon cable. The hinge is gonna pinch when we close it.”

“We?” You lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “Backseat building already and you’ve been awake for thirty seconds.”

Tim’s hair was longer now, falling into his eyes in wild strands that made him look softer — distracting enough to overshadow a dark bruise fading at the curve of his jaw, if the fact that he was shirtless hadn’t made you dizzy enough to almost not scold him.

“I’m not backseat building,” he protested, all feigned innocence, even as he reached past you to gently adjust the tension on the cable with two careful fingers. “I’m… offering emotional support. From a very horizontal-adjacent position.”

You flattened the cable in place just as his other hand reached over to try and steal the flush cutters you were working with.

“Down, boy.” You smacked his wrist and he whined, immediately dropping the tool into your awaiting palm. “This is my work station, by the way — if you haven’t realized — and I don’t want your grimey hands all over it.”

“Thought you liked my grimey hands.” He leaned over to kiss the side of your face, then your cheek, and another one right below your ear. The slight wince from the pull of his sore ribs was obvious, accompanied by the nasty bruise still on display exactly where you left it, like a painful kiss at the curve of his ribcage.

“You don’t love me anymore? Is that it?” Tim complained.

You did. Even with the bruises. Especially with the bruises, because they were proof he was home and safe enough to be annoying.

“Do not even think of sitting down, you need to get back to bed.”

On the TV, Sailor Moon struck another dramatic pose and the music swelled to a crescendo as Tim pretended he didn’t hear you at all.

“I came to watch Yu-Gi-Oh actually,” he hummed matter-of-factly while he sprawled out on the massive sectional, stretching his legs out and draping himself against your side. “Not to see you. Or the Sailor.”

You laughed, tangling one of your legs with his. “What is your deal with Sailor Moon?”

Tim’s hand lazily found your thigh, squeezing gently as he shifted closer, peeking over your shoulder. “I don’t have a deal,” he mumbled. “I just think it’s unrealistic that the bad guys wait for her to transform before the actual fight happens.”

“Right… Because Yu-Gi-Oh is so realistic.”

“Well. If you’re asking—” He stretched one long arm toward the coffee table without untangling his legs from yours, grunting at the flex of his aching muscles. “An argument can be made about its applications to any kind of strategy based initia—

“Again, I don’t recall this being a collaborative effort.” You swatted his arm away. “Shoo.”

Tim made a pathetic little sound and snaked his arms around you again, only tighter, before his hands eventually settled on your hips and pulled you closer, just until your back was flush against his chest.

“You should be recovering,” you continued. “R and R remember? Rest and relaxation—” You shifted so you could face him better, easing yourself up onto his lap gently at first, waiting for him to give you the full go ahead.

“I am recovering,” he mumbled, lips brushing your jaw. He didn’t wait another second before pulling you down onto him, stretching his legs out on either side of you with a sigh. “This is like homeopathic medicine. Skin-to-skin contact, all that stuff. Very healing.”

You shook your head, a hand reaching behind you blindly to push the hair back from his face, your fingertips brushing the faint scar near his hairline before sliding between the strands to scratch lightly at his scalp.

“You are the worst patient on the planet.”

“And you…” he whispered, pressing a slow kiss to the curve of your neck. “Are sooo pretty…” Then another. “When you’re concentrating.” And another, working his way up until he could nuzzle right behind your ear. “It’s distracting me from how much everything hurts.”

You melted despite yourself, tilting your head to give him better access. “Manipulation tactics. I see you, Drake.”

“Are they working?” He whispered. Your stomach did a flip.

“Unfortunately.”

You could feel him grinning against your skin. “Still got it.”

One of his hands wandered down to your thigh again, just to rest there, while the other slipped down to where you held the flesh cutters in your palm against a cable. This time, you let him intervene — his longer fingers sliding between yours to grip the tool a little tighter.

“Don’t backseat me,” you warned, as he guided your hand in the opposite direction you would’ve gone. “I’m serious.”

“I won’t,” he said. “Scout’s honor.”

And he kept to his promise for a little less than two minutes.

Tim’s lips puckered against the skin where your neck and shoulder met, trailing up the line of your neck until he reached the curve of your jaw, burying his face there with the tiniest kisses.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “And this is just a suggestion,” he continued, voice low. “Let’s... not use PiSugar for power supply…”

“Oh my God, you promised.” You groaned, but there was no real heat in it. His lips were too warm against your skin, his hair tickling you softly as he nuzzled closer and closer.

“I’m not helping,” he murmured with faux innocence, voice still raspy from sleep and the remnants of last night’s patrol that he was rightfully benched from midway. “Just… offering constructive criticism. From a very restful position. And I think that this… this just isn’t it, babe.”

Tim paused to shake the flush cutters from your palm, instead forcing you to pick up the little, black rectangular power cell.

You slapped his wrist in protest and he blew a raspberry against your cheek — so sloppy and wet it made you recoil with disgust and a squealed ‘Ew, you fucking creep—!’

He tossed the PiSugar cell out of the DS’ hollowed shell and toward the pile of unused tools with a victorious smirk.

“Muuuch better,” he said. “Why are we using PiSugar anyway? I’m kinda offended…”

You twisted in his lap just enough to shoot him a look as you rubbed the wetness from your cheek. “It’s cheap and it works. And I would prefer not throwing money at an overpriced battery solution, Tim.”

He made a scandalized little noise, arms tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against his bare chest. “Now, with all due respect—”

Tim stopped himself when you glared at him hotly.

“Babe. Darling. Smartest girl in the whole wide world—” He continued. “You did not see me use PiSugar or some cheap ass LiPo pack when I made your first cyberdeck. I am disappointed.”

“Jeez, sorry Dad.” You snorted, leaning back into him despite yourself and he hugged you close. “Maybe I just didn’t wanna outsource a battery fit for a supercomputer… It’s not like I’m catching criminals as a hobby.”

“Dad?” Tim laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest and against your skin. “Low blow. And no— it’s reasonable and it works better. Geekworm is the go-to, baby. I’m ordering one later.”

“No,” you objected immediately, easing up and reaching for the discarded PiSugar just to make a point. “That is exactly what we’re not gonna do. It’s like fifty bucks, Tim.”

“More like eighty with shipping,” he corrected, completely unbothered, as he hooked his chin over your shoulder again, pulling you back into him. “But I’ll have it here by tomorrow if I—”

“We are not dropping eighty dollars for a battery, you capitalist freak. The PiSugar is fine.” You elbowed him lightly as you tried to squirm free from his grip. “And seriously, go away— I have to finish this—”

He made an exasperated sound, somewhere between a whine of protest and a sigh, then pressed another warm kiss just below your ear. “But I’m bored. And you’re so... so hot when you’re all focused…” Another kiss to the back of your neck, then another, and back up again to press one more against your cheek. “Let me help.”

“Leslie said intensive bed rest. And no activities that require more than ten minutes worth of focus,” you reminded him, trying — and failing — to focus as you reached down to thread another ribbon cable.

“Oh yeah?” Tim’s palms slipped under the hem of your shirt and idled over your stomach, squeezing gently, while his fingers traced silken patterns that made it very hard to keep your hands steady. “Nothing at all?” Your entire body felt hot as he whispered in your ear.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, perv. It’s not happening,” you laughed. “Wouldn’t want you to get a Charlie Horse and die.”

“Okay, mood obliterated.” He deflated. “Even doctors overreact sometimes. I am fine.”

“You came home looking like you lost a fight with a tank. Again.” You looked at him over your shoulder. “And you told Lonnie I was beating you at home, when you know damn well—”

“Firstly, that was a joke made in good faith that is much closer to the truth than you like to admit—”

“—I will ignore that because I refuse to give into the stereotype of punching you in the mouth.”

Tim continued, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Second, it was the line that failed me,” he corrected, lips brushing your jaw. “And I won—”

“You got punched into another building. Then fell from the highest floor of said building while trying to zipline your way back down.”

“Semantics.” Tim shrugged. “Your boy’s always a winner, baby.” Another kiss, this one so much sweeter, your face felt hot. “C’mon…. Let me help. Just the cable management. I’m excellent at cable management. World-class, even.”

You turned your head just enough to glare at him again.

His eyes were soft and heavy-lidded, his tousled hair falling into them, and that faint bruise along his jaw making him look unfairly pathetic, in an endearing way.

“Terrible at staying put, is what you are.”

“Please? I’ll be good.” Tim blinked slowly. “Scout’s honor? Again?”

“You were never a scout,” you laughed, your prior defenses now rendered null and void. “Like, ever.”

“Have pity on me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’m hurting all over, you know?”

You frowned. “I’m being manipulated again, I think.”

Then another kiss, slower, coaxing. “Make me all better?” He pouted. “Please, sweetheart?”

“Tim—”

His lips met yours softly, and you instinctively turned to him for more, the kiss lazy and slow but full of heat. You could feel him smile against your mouth before he pulled away, forcing that same pout to keep his grin at bay.

Then you sighed dramatically and handed him the flush cutters. “Okay, fine, whatever. Cable management only. But if you even think about ordering that Geekworm before we finish this section, you’re sleeping alone.”

He gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, rich boy.”

“I’d like to.” Tim’s grin was immediate and devastating and you audibly boo’d him as he shifted you both slightly so you were still mostly in his lap but could both reach the coffee table easier. His longer hair kept falling forward as he leaned in, and you couldn’t resist reaching up to tuck it behind his ear.

For the next hour you worked like that—tangled together, half-lazy, trading slow kisses between crimping cables and snapping accessories shut.

His arms framed you on either side, one hand steadying the DS shell while the other passed you tools or held wires in place and every time he leaned forward, his bare chest pressed warm against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder so you were cheek-to-cheek, breathing the same air.

Whenever he reached too far and the ache in his ribs made him wince, you’d scold him gently and kiss the fading bruise on his jaw like it would help heal the rest of him. He’d just smile that small, deafeningly self-satisfied smile and pull you back in.

At one point Tim paused, peering at the exposed internals. “Hey, want an LED status light right here?” He tapped a spot near the hinge with one long finger. “Just a little power indicator. Would look sick when it’s closed.”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Nah, it’s fine without.”

He gave you a long, knowing look, the corner of his mouth slightly curving upwards. “Uh-huh.”

Two minutes later he was carefully soldering a tiny LED in place anyway, one arm still looped around your waist to keep you steady against him while his other hand worked with that effortless precision you fell for.

“Tim...”

“Relax. I’ve got a steady hand.” He whispered, teasing. “And I know you want the blinky light, even if you’re scared of the iron.”

“I am not scared of soldering,” you lied, cheeks warming as you watched the focused pinch of his brows. The faint smell of solder mixed with the earthy petrichor drifting through one of the cracked windows, and the faintest ray of morning sunshine struggled against the rainclouds.

“Mhm. But you want the blinky light,” he murmured, blowing gently on the fresh solder joint. “I’ve got you mapped.”

“You’re the worst,” you whispered, but you were smiling as you turned your head to press a kiss to his temple. “Fucking show-off.”

“Your show-off,” Tim corrected happily, a dopey grin on his face. “And you’ll thank me when it looks sick as hell at night.”

The cyberdeck build came together slowly but surely after that with your vision and his refinements until it eventually started to look less of a disassembled mess and more like something usable.

The rain kept falling in steady sheets outside as the final Sailor Moon episode on the television faded into the opening chords of Yu-Gi-Oh.

Tim perked up slightly at the familiar theme, unable to hide the excited childlike quirk in his brows, but his movements were growing slower and heavier as the work became more about holding you than building— the little kisses pressed to your shoulder, the pads of his fingertips thrumming against the warmth of your stomach, the feel of his unclothed heartbeat against your spine took up more and more of your attention.

Between the distant sound of Yu-Gi-Oh and the occasional soft click of tools, Tim’s breathing also changed behind you, his body hunching forward against your back in a drowsy fold.

“You falling asleep on me already?” you whispered, amused.

“Halfway there,” he admitted, voice slurred and muffled against the nape of your neck. “...‘S your fault,” you felt him smile a little, nuzzling deeper into your skin, or trying to. “You’re warm and you smell like my shampoo… and you’re doing tech things…. You’re so beautiful.”

You sat the tiny keyboard down carefully and twisted in his lap to face him properly, straddling his thighs. His eyes were half-lidded, his eyelashes fluttering gently with that unguarded softness he only ever showed when he was here and all yours.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, brushing the hair back from his forehead, fingers trailing over his hairline. “Got beat up by bad guys on national television.”

“It was a local broadcast, please.” Tim deadpanned, tilting his head to catch your fingers with a lazy kiss. “And you’re supposed to be nice to me…” his teeth grazed the tips of your fingers.

“You’re spoiled, you’ll live.” You leaned in and kissed him, tasting the faint mint from his toothpaste and all those assorted flavors of him needing you. He sighed into it, one hand sliding up your back under your shirt, a warm palm splayed across your skin.

“Take me down a peg,” Tim hummed lazily, pressing another lazy kiss to your mouth. “I like that.”

“Pervert.”

Still, you kissed him again as the rain kept pouring and Yu-Gi-Oh dueled in the background. When you pulled back, his eyes were brighter despite the exhaustion and he pressed his forehead against yours with a long sigh.

“Does it hurt bad?” You asked, carefully trying to shift your body over his lap to ease the weight on him. You could feel the faint twitch of muscles every time you moved, but he never complained.

“Stay,” he whispered as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest while the half-finished cyberdeck was forgotten on the coffee table next to you. “Hurts less when you’re right here.”

You hesitated, hovering just a little. “Tim… your ribs—”

“Are fine,” he murmured, already tugging you down with gentle insistence. “C’mere. I want you on top of me. Proper R and R.”

You let out a soft laugh but gave in, carefully lowering your full weight until your chest pressed against his and you were nearly melded to him. You stayed tense for a second, hyperaware of every bruise while Tim just hummed contentedly, one hand stroking slowly up and down your spine.

“See?” he whispered against your hair. “Perfect. You feel good like this.”

You relaxed bit by bit, melting into the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his bare skin as the rain drummed steadily against the windows and the low sounds of card duels came from the TV.

“Can you sleep like this?” you asked after a while, pressing a kiss between his brows as his eyelids fluttered closed. Tim murmured an ‘mhm’ and hugged you closer, his head leaned back against the cushioned sectional. “Don’t drool on me though,” you said, burying your face in the side of his neck.

“I do not drool.”

“And I’m Batman.”

Tim snorted, his nostrils flaring from amusement and you kissed his jaw.

After a quiet minute, his voice came out soft and drowsy. “We should make one like the Millennium Puzzle.”

You smiled against his collarbone, tracing patterns on his chest with your fingertip. “You seriously have a problem.”

“Hm, you’ll see my vision soon,” he said, voice low and warm. “Tell me your ideas instead. For the rest of this one, I mean. The layout, the interface, all of it. I wanna hear.”

You shifted a little lower so your chin rested on his sternum, careful not to press on the worst of the bruises.

“Okay… I was thinking the top half could have some custom acrylic designs maybe? I wanna see what I can do with that 3D printer you spent a million bucks on— I can give it a mini computer look… but I like the sort of Y2K gaming console turned high tech spyware concept in my head… if that makes sense, I don’t know—”

Tim’s hand kept stroking your back in slow, lazy circles, his breathing growing softer beneath you. “Mmm… keep going,” he mumbled, eyes already drifting shut. “What about the interface?”

You kept talking softly, describing the power cell you secretly did want just to run a bunch of gaming applications, the messaging interface you wanted to design just to sync with his cyberdeck, how you pictured the whole thing looking and operating like pure magic.

“—and that’s where the Raspberry Pi is gonna go…”

Tim’s responses got quieter, made up of little hums and half-formed words. “...Raspberry Pi.”

“…and maybe a small speaker for gaming effects, we can run an emulator for Yoshi’s Island,” you continued, grinning to yourself. “And Final Fantasy.”

You waited for his usual chuckle followed by some cheeky remark about the longstanding rivalry you two had in all things Final Fantasy concerned. But all you heard were the same slow, even breaths.

“Tim? You still with me?”

No answer. All you could feel was the steady rise and fall of his chest under yours and his arms still loosely wrapped around you like he’d fallen asleep mid-caress.

You lifted your head to get a good look at him, and his face was completely relaxed now, lips slightly parted and messy dark hair splayed across the cushiony sectional in fluffy tufts.

“Tim…” you called out to him in a whisper, but he didn’t shift. “Paging geektopia,” you giggled, nuzzling your nose against his cheek.

He twitched softly in his sleep, fingers tightening around your waist. “M’ awake…” he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, squirming tighter against you. “I’m listenin’.”

You let out a quiet, fond laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Sure you are,” you whispered, nuzzling closer.

“Sure I am.” He repeated, grinning with his eyes closed. “Just resting my eyes, sweetheart,” his fingers danced in shapes over the skin of your waist — crooked little circles, lopsided hearts, the occasional RR symbol like he couldn’t help himself.

You stayed draped over him, your weight like a warm blanket that he refused to let shift even an inch.

The rain had softened into a gentle drizzle against the windows, and the Yu-Gi-Oh soundtrack played like a lullaby in the background. Every so often Tim’s fingers would still as sleep coaxed him away, then start up again, chasing the feeling of your skin as if touching you was the gravity holding him here.

“You’re gonna build the Millennium Puzzle cyberdeck with me, right?” he mumbled after a long, quiet minute, voice thick and barely there. “We should… date night… gonna be so cool…”

“Yeah, baby,” you murmured, brushing his hair back again. “We’ll build it together.”

Tim made a soft, contented hum, the sound vibrating against your chest as he murmured to himself. “So many Raspberry Pi’s….”

You chuckled.

Then his arms tightened once more, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised softly, pressing one last kiss to his bruised jaw. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

When you pulled back, Tim was smiling that small, lovedrunk smile, straining his eyes open a tiny fraction. “Love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know….” You let your head settle against his chest. “I know…”

His breathing evened out for good after that, deep and slow as his eyelids fell closed, the faint lines of unspoken pain smoothing from his face.

You watched him for a while, peering up through your lashes at the way his jaw relaxed, the flutter of those soft eyelashes against his cheekbones, and that tiny twitch of his mouth like he was still half-dreaming about his own Millenium Puzzle like a little boy on a lazy Saturday morning.

Outside, the rain kept falling while Yu-Gi-Oh played on low and your boyfriend — your stubborn, bruised, brilliant, and finally resting boyfriend — dozed in your arms.

You stayed right there on top of him, listening to the sound of his heartbeat against your ear drowning out everything else, perfectly content to let him sleep as long as he needed.

Within the tangled warmth of your limbs and his, you whispered, “I love you too,” and the rest of Gotham remained blurred away outside the glass as sleep took you too.

mentions/tw: fluff-ish? she/her, bullets, clark is lowkey down bad, also pathetic but rlly cute pathetic ykwim, reader takes care of clark, so painfully obvious that there’s a bet going on, luthor mentioned like three times, justice league mentioned, corenswet! superman based! (roster finished! might do one more if i have the motivation to lol but this was so fun to write i absolutely love justice league!doctor reader i need more fics of them frfr. apologies if clark is ooc its my first time writing him anddd yeah, enjoy!)

©bat1nsignia— please do not steal, repost or reuse my work.

—————————————————————————

the watchtower orbited around earth like it always did. outside the watchtower in space was always quiet, the faint hums and beeps coming from the satellite headquarters of the justice league as the sound died out in space like it always did

but inside? quite the complete opposite

“where is he?” you requested, walking quickly towards the medical bay of the watchtower with bruce on your left and diana on your right.

“med bay 2” bruce responded. “luthor hit him with kryptonite bullets— two of them” diana nodded before adding. “we took him here right after we got luthor arrested”

“where did the bullets land?” you asked bruce

“left chest and external abdomen” he replied quickly

you let out a scoff. “luthor has tech yet still has terrible aim.” your comment made bruce resist the urge to hold a smirk and instead, nodded in agreement while diana smirked amusedly

once you, the billionaire and the amazonian reached the med bay, you turned to them and giving them a silent nod— the same nod you always gave them whenever a league member was injured, basically reassuring them.

diana and bruce nod back, trusting your skills like they always had for years. “we’ll be outside if you need anything” diana offered

you smiled one last time from diana’s words before turning back to the doors of the med bay as they opened and closed shut behind you

you’ve been with the justice league as long as you can remember, originally treating the founding members at first before they decided to put the U in the JL. you’ve treated them through thick and thin and you always made sure they came back alive and healthy, thus the league’s massive respect for you

and as for clark, he had both respect and a crush on you ever since you joined as the league’s medic and it didn’t help that you were conveniently attractive for a doctor, which made it even worse.

the tension between you two was so painfully obvious that a bet pool was placed whether he’ll put the man in superman and ask you out on a date— spoilers, that bet pool has done nothing but pile money up for years now.

the bet started off between hal and barry and then, oliver came in and the three would start bickering in the cafeteria on how clark fucked up his chance to ask you out. dinah soon got dragged in after overhearing oliver on the phone, gossiping with hal and barry on how clark stammered heavily when you asked him something from the last meeting

kara also joined in so she can talk about the sheer naiveness of her cousin and how it doesn’t take for her to use her super hearing to hear clark’s heartbeat fasten whenever he breathed the same air as you

and lastly, diana and bruce joined in. even though diana repeatedly advised that betting on their colleagues’ love life “wasn’t right”, her words gave up when she saw clark almost dropping a mug of coffee while trying to hand it over to you, making her sigh and shake her head in both disappointment and embarrassment.

and though bruce was basically dragged in the betting pool against his will, he used to find clark’s behavior around you secretly amusing. now, he just finds it sad that the man couldn’t form proper words in front of you even after all these years

and now, it was just bruce and diana— standing outside of the med bay

bruce wasn’t the type of person to bet. he’s a billionaire, what was the point? “twenty bucks says he’ll make a fool out of himself again”

and diana was an amazonian princess, her morals stood against gambling and betting. “forty says the kryptonite will have him talking and he’ll take her out”

“deal”

inside the med bay, you let out an exhale from the sight, seeing a half conscious clark on the bed— costume basically ripped with his family crest half on his chest and sweat almost drenching his forehead as he was hooked into machines. this was going to take a while

“clark?” you spoke, quickly going to the box of gloves. “clark, can you hear me?”

you heard mumbles of confirmations leaving his chapped lips but barely. the gloves slid in your hands, bringing your chair and sitting on clark’s left side as you examined the bullet holes

even though your finger barely touched the small wounds, a hiss still left his lips. “its—“

“kryptonite, bruce told me” you informed him, eyes not leaving the bullet wounds as you bit your bottom lip and furrowed your eyebrows in frustration. you inhaled a breath of air, focusing and knowing what to do

“alright— clark, are you with me?” you spoke, making sure he heard your voice as you took out a pair of thumb forceps. and your voice let a small, weak chuckle from clark. “always” he murmured

a small smile graced on your lips from his words, meeting with his blue eyes before turning your gaze back at the bullet holes in front of you. you immediately locked in, bringing your chair closer

“i’m gonna take out the bullets right now, okay?” you murmured a warning under your breath and he just weakly nodded in silence.

you took his nod as a yes and you immediately started going to work, lowering the forceps gently into the hole. the tip of your forceps grabbed a bullet and you started to pull it out very carefully

a hiss would leave clark, gripping onto the sides of the bed for dear life (and flattening a part of the mattress where he was gripping it) as grunts of pain was heard from him

“i got you, big guy” you placed your other hand flat on his chest not just to steady yourself but also to reassure him. your touch almost sent clark flying out of the bed, literally. and you felt his heartbeat fasten from your palm and heard it from the monitor

“you okay?” you checked up on him quickly, turning to meet his gaze and he just nodded again, but more dreamily. “uh huh” clark mumbled under his breath, making you nod and quickly turning away so you can focus on the matter at hand— or rather, the matter at his chest

you resumed, slowly taking the bullet out and a choked sound of pain left clark before his hand unknowingly went from the edge of the bed to now resting on top of yours

you ignored your heartbeat suddenly speeding up from his touch, convincing yourself that the kryptonite was just affecting him bad, like always

and clark heard your heart as his breath hitched from his sudden action. if he was in his right mind, he would immediately pull his hand away and stammer out apologies, but the kryptonite was so stuck on his body that he just gripped your hand. clark always wondered how your hand felt, especially considering that your hands were the same ones that always nursed him back to health

so when your hand felt soft and warm, it made the urge for clark not to let go even more

“careful not to crush my hand” you joked and before clark could even chuckle, a large sum of pain shot up in him, making him shut his mouth and grit his teeth

you pull the forceps out, the blood covered kryptonite bullet now captured as you tossed it into the lead covered trash bin. “one down, one more to go” you turned to face clark. “think you can handle it for me?”

‘for you, always’ was what he wanted to say. but instead, he let out a sudden high pitched “uh huh” that made him sound desperate. he immediately closed his mouth in embarrassment before clearing his throat and catching himself. “yes, i- uh, i can”

the corner of your lips lifted into a smirk, giving him an amused look before turning back to the last kryptonite bullet wound and slowly inserting your forceps like you did with the last one, like how you always did

through clark’s gritted sounds of pain, you spoke. “you think from the amount of times luthor shot you, he’d think not to miss”

clark let out a laugh choked with a hiss of pain, trying to catch words to add on to your joke but he just fumbled from both his nervousness and the pain

“andddd got it” you took out the last bullet, dropping it down to the same trash can before rolling your chair besides the stand and placing your forceps back. clark let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the mattress in comfort. and his reaction made you smile as you turned to face him

“better?”

“much”

you chuckled, biting your lip to hold your smile from widening even more and clark’s eyes trailed down to the sight as he watched you reach over for the operating sunlight beam that hung from the ceiling, wondering how soft your lips would be if they were placed on his

his thoughts were interrupted when you turned on the sunlight beam and shined it on him, feeling the warmth of vitamin d regenerate his cells from the two small bullet wounds. clark inhaled sharply from the burning ache as in seconds, the wounds were now healed, leaving only his suit as a reminder of the previous bullet holes he had

“vitamin d always does the trick” clark sighed, slowly sitting up right before he turned and noticed you giving him an eyebrow raise that silently reminded clark who just saved him.

“and a doctor” he nervously added with a chuckle, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you turn around and take off your gloves, while clark shook his head to himself and wondering what was wrong with him

you turned back around with a towel at hand before you walked towards clark and turning off the sunlight beam, moving it away from both you and clark’s direction. “how’re you feel now?” you asked, gently cleaning the sweat off clark’s face due to the previous kryptonite

he already missed your touch on his chest, yet you cleaning off the sweat on his face made him stutter yet again. “i-uh, um” clark cleared his throat before flashing a smile. “amazing.” that was the worst save ever and he knew it, his mind cringing internally

the corner of your lips twitched into a smile as you heard his kansas accent slip. “glad to hear.” after wiping his face, you placed the towel away on the side and replacing it with your clipboard. you took out your pen from your doctors coat and clicked it, writing on the paper

“kryptonite extracted, wounds healed from sun…” you murmured to yourself as you wrote everything down, making clark smile to himself without realizing that his eyes were lingering for far too long on your face, scrunched in concentration as your pen moved on your clipboard

you felt eyes on you and stopped your writing to look up to clark curiously. “what?”

“go out with me” he murmured before he could stop himself and that made both your eyes widened, while his eyes widened in realization and blinking out of trance, stammering and stuttering to catch himself

“i mean if you want— if not that’s completely fine and we-“

a small laugh left your lips and that made clark blink twice. were you laughing from how he made a fool out of himself? he didn’t know, but he wanted to hear you laugh forever

and once your laugh died out, you smiled before nodding. “yes, clark kent. i will go out with you” you accepted his offer and that made clark short circuit for a split second before a laugh was heard from him, more relaxed and even relieved

“cool, are you um— free tonight? by any chance?” he was trying so hard not to fidget with his fingers in front of you

you just nodded again, your smile growing. “7 pm?”

a smile mirrored on clark’s lips, nodding. “7 pm” that was one of the only times where he actually didn’t stutter around you, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back for that

“then i’ll see you then” you got up, clipboard at hand and your smile growing by the second before walking towards the door. and once the doors hissed shut behind you, clark gave himself a quiet fist bump in the air and mouthing yes

when you left the med bay, your smile died out when you say bruce and diana acting weird— like they weren’t listening in on you and clark’s conversation so they could see who from the two would win the bet

“bruce? diana? everything okay?” you raised an eyebrow and they nodded simultaneously, maybe too simultaneously

“o…kay..” you trailed off, blinking before snapping out of it and reading from your clipboard. “kryptonite is extracted, wounds are healed” you looked up to bruce and diana with a smile. “he should be good to go”

“good news, like always” diana nodded with a smile of her own. “thank you, doctor”

you just smiled one last time before walking away, on your way to the other med bay stations to check up on everyone else

and while you were out of earshot, diana turned to bruce with a smirk and her palm open. “we agreed on forty, if i’m correct”

bruce just grumbled something under his breath as his hand dug through one of the pockets on his belt before handing two twenty bills over to diana, who proudly placed it under her top

a moment of silence

then diana broke it. “who’s telling barry, hal and oliver?”

“not it”

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masterlist

(a/n: oh yeah clark come give me that vit d ahaha anyway—! snowstorm has begun 🫩 to all of my american readers, stay warm and stay safe)

taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @hottubnda @fratbrochrisgf @fauna-the-bizzy-bee143 @gglouise23 @aerina-wayne

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normally, if someone ever came back from an event or gala as prestigious as the ones you and bruce often go to, they would be knocked the fuck out and drained from all the social interactions and boredom

dont’t get me wrong, both you and bruce do get tired from them. but tonight said otherwise. 

because here you were, lying on your stomach and arching your back, your dress rolled up to your waist so bruce could feel the warmth and flesh of your ass pressing on his hips. the rhythmic, deep pace of his cock stuffing your pussy did nothing but make you whine and claw your manicured nails on the leather seats of the limo, feeling the cold metal of his belt meet with your ass and your necklace bounce on your chest

“take it baby, take all of me”

“gonna leave this limo all filled up with my cum, yeah? you want that? you’re gonna have to speak louder, dear” “keep that ass up for me, sweetheart”

was bruce fucking you in the back of the limo with the partition rolled up? yes. were you two loud? also yes. and did the driver hear anything? with the headphones that were blasting music in his ears, he didn’t even know that the richest and most powerful couple in all of gotham were getting the seats dirty

“gorgeous” he groaned, giving you another deep thrust and feeling his grip on your waist tighten. “absolutely gorgeous”  bruce’s tie was thrown somewhere in the limo, the first few buttons of his collar were undone and the sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, his armani belt unbuckled and hanging from the belt loops of his pants

“couldn’t focus at that damn gala with you lookin’ like that” you felt bruce’s large hands slither under your dress to squeeze your boobs and pinch your nipples, making your body immediately jerk and his name leaving your stuffed mouth with a moan

“all i could think about was bending you over. your dress —hah— ripped in shreds, your body under my touch and squeezin’ my cock dry with that pretty cunt, just like now” 

your sounds were muffled from the panties stuffed in your lipstick-smudged mouth thanks to bruce, spreading your legs more and arching your back to take more of his length— as if its entirety wasn’t already buried in you bruce leaned forward to bury his lipstick-covered face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your perfume that had been clouding his senses all night as his chest was pressed to your back, groaning on your skin. “my gorgeous wife—” thrust. “my wife—” thrust. “mine” thrust.

his tip pressed on a spot that felt so good it made your pussy flutter— almost clenching more than it already was— over his cock, a choked groan of your name leaving his lips and his pace now speeding up and getting irratic to chase the high that was approaching both you and him

the gala may have ended, but the fun was about to start

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masterlist!

(a/n: if asia asks, asia gets <3 little long for a drabble but we ball. im so shocked as to how i never wrote this for bruce.... good thing thats changed)

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @st4rl1ghtgrays0n @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae @darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore (tags are open)

mentions: threesome, competitiveness, also possessiveness, oral sex (f!recieving), tongue fucking, fingering, sliiiight edging? dirty talk, petnames, praises, can we say overstim too, boobplay, groping, am i missing anything else (the way this was supposed to be a drabble.....)

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jason todd and clark kent— prime— only had one thing in common, and that was being competitve

so when you put two competitve people in the same room, on top of the same bed and eating you out at the same time, best believe there will be competition “hey! move over!” “and give you this pussy? fuck no” you couldn’t believe what you were seeing-- two grown men, between your legs and facing your drenched cunt, arguing about eating you out like refusing to share candy. god, the heat in between your legs and them doing nothing about it made you frustrated “oh shut the fuck up” you spread your thighs wider and buried your hands in both of their hairs to shove both of their faces on your pussy at the same time. and the synchronized slow drag from their tongues on your clit made you knock your head back with a loud moan, the sensation buzzing through

clark’s tongue was focused on your clit, the pace fast and quick and enough to leave you breathless, feeling his tongue repeatedly both play and abuse your clit. jason’s tongue was in your pussy, slow yet deep as his warm tongue was making your walls pulse like crazy

“that’s it, baby” clark purred, two fingers gently spreading your folds apart without his pace stopping, making sure your clit truly felt every part of his tongue. “tell jason who’s really makin’ you feel good”

that made jason roll his eyes, slowly retracting his tongue back, your walls now clenching on nothing. you whined from the empty feeling, but it quickly trailed into a moan the moment you felt two of his thick, calloused fingers bury themselves in your pussy till his knuckles were nudging. the way his fingers filled up the space and went along perfectly with clark’s tongue was making your brain foggy. for two people who were different, they surprisingly worked really well together

“attagirl” a smirk formed on jason’s lips, his green eyes dark with lust as they were pinned up on you. “tell him who’s girl you are”  a choked sound left your lips when you felt his fingers curl in you, nudging in all the right spots 

clark’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration, flattening his tongue and pressing it flat onto your clit. the pressure made your hips jerk back, a small yelp heard from you and your grip on his hair both twitching and tightening on his locks. now that formed a grin on clark’s busy lips

“you should feel the way she’s grippin my hair” he spoke from your pussy, resuming the insatiable pace. “says—“ lick. “a lot—“ lick. “doesn’t it?” lick.

your voice was trembling, arching your back for more of jason’s fingers, for more of clark’s tongue, for more. “jaso- ohhh clar- mph!” poor you couldn’t even get their names out.

and of course, clark’s words got into jason’s head, making him lean forward and grab your jaw with his free hand to pull you into a kiss— passionate, sloppy, all tongue and saliva—  all while his other hand was still pumping his digits at all the right ways

“that’s it, gorgeous” he murmured on your lips, biting your bottom lip to slide his tongue in. “you’re my pretty girl, arent you?” his curled fingers were now nudging on a deep spot. and just by the way your clit was twitching on clark’s tongue from his licks, you were about to be close

and clark knew— of course he did; this man knows your body like the back of his hand. there was no way you were going to cum on jason’s fingers first, not when he was right here

right where you knew one last flick from clark’s tongue would have been it, his mouth detached itself from your cunt. that made jason swallow a frustrated whimper from you from the lost warmth and sensation. but all was forgiven when you felt clark’s thick tip rub onto your cunt, hard and already leaking with pre cum. the feeling of his tip, rubbing on your saliva-covered clit with the pre-beads of cum made both of you moan

just like jason, clark hovered on top of you, trailing his lips to the sensitive parts of your skin and leaving open-mouthed hickeys and bites, saliva trailing all over. his hand went to your boob, squeezing and fondling it while brushing his thumb on your hard nipples, his touch making you arch your back to press your boob more to his palm as you moved your hips for more friction for clark’s tip and jason’s fingers.

all while both of them were mindlessly blabbering praises, your head so fucked you couldn't tell who was saying what “ohhh fuck, even she prefers me more than him”

“cmon baby, be my good girl and prove him wrong”

“say my name out of those pretty lips, won’t you?” “mmmm, that’s it. take it all, take it all from me” let the games begin!

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masterlist!

(a/n: creative freedom is amazing)

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @st4rl1ghtgrays0n @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae @darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore (tags are open)

Pairing: Superboy Prime x gn! sick! reader

Summary: when you don’t show up to work, Clark stops by your house to make sure you’re okay, only to find you sick in bed

Word Count: 1.2k

Content/CW -> gn! reader, takes place around superman #38, sick! reader + typical sick stuff, reader works at the comic store w clark, hurt/comfort

— requested as part of my neglect week event

froggi yaps -> whoever first decided to request superboy prime struck something inside me because now he’s living rent free in my head :,) since this one was my choice i decide some hurt/comfort would be fun! hope you enjoy <3