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Includes: Wally West, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen & Michael Carter
Summary: he accidentally hurts you while sparring
Content/CW -> gn! reader, minor injury, mentions of blood (Dick's), guilt, crying, hurt/comfort, mild angst
froggi yaps -> im sorry i know i should be writing more neglect week fics but </3 i missed wally so much i needed a quick break to write this. ty to my pookie bear for helping me pick the characters + write them <3
Wally West:
Wally’s buzzing, the energy that lives under his skin surging through his veins like lightning. He bounces around on the balls of his feet as the two of you circle the mat.
You get a couple jabs in, all playful with no real intent behind them. Wally jabs back, kicks out at you, spins so he’s standing behind you. The energy crackles and burns under his skin. You spin, punching out at him. Wally catches your wrist and blocks.
He goes to throw a punch, that familiar lightning bubbling up inside of him. It’s a split second too fast, a tad too strong and yet, he doesn’t react fast enough to stop it.
His fist collides with the side of your jaw. You hit the mat. Hard.
Wally drops to the floor with you, panic surging in his chest when you don’t open your eyes. He taps your face, “baby? Baby, look at me.”
You don’t move, limp in his arms, head lulled to the side. He cups your cheek, thumb smoothing over the spot where he hit you.
“C’mon, c’mon.” Tears burn at his eyes as he pulls you into his lap, arms under your legs and shoulders, ready to pick you up. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart.”
And just before he can lift you up, your eyes are fluttering open and Wally’s breathing a sigh of relief. The tears he was holding back slip from his eyes, hot and heavy on his freckled cheeks.
“Thank god,” he tugs you into his chest, burying his face in your shoulder.
“Wally?” You groan, rubbing the side of your face, “did you—you knocked me out.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, doll, I didn’t mean—“
You lean in, pressing your lips to his, swiping at his tears with your thumb. “I know, Walls.”
“I love you, I—I’d never ever hurt you.”
“Wally,” you clasp his face between your palms, “I’m okay. It’s okay.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing under your touch. “I think I’m done with sparring for like, forever now.”
You giggle slightly. “Such a drama queen.”
Dick Grayson:
A million thoughts race through Dick’s head when his fist collides with the side of your face. He’s at your side in an instant, catching you when you stagger back and helping lower you to the mats.
You rub at the side of your face, laughing humorlessly. “Nice one.”
Dick, unfortunately, doesn’t see what’s so funny about the situation. His lips are drawn into a frown, brows creased together as he examines you for any signs of injury.
His hands are all over you, cupping your face, tilting your head every which way to make sure he hasn’t accidentally maimed you. He’s never intentionally gone for your head during sparring, never once did the thought ever cross his mind. Your wires just got crossed.
He threw a jab and you ducked and before he knew it, his fist had connected with your face.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he says finally. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean to.”
You shrug, “we’re sparring, Dick. It was bound to happen eventually. Let’s keep going.”
“You’re taking at least a five minute break first.”
“What? I’m—” You pause, words dying on your tongue when you feel a hot trickle of blood drip from your nose. Swiping it on the back of your hand, you quiet your voice, “...fine.”
“Yeah, fine.” He shakes his head, jumping to his feet to grab a towel.
He presses it carefully to your face, pinching the soft part of your nose. You lean into his touch, the stinging in your face that radiated to your nostrils suddenly making sense now.
“Dick,” you say quietly, voice muffled by the blood-stained towel.
He looks at you, eyes stormy.
“It’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look like you’re five seconds away from crawling into a hole and dying?”
He sighs, “because—fuck, I hurt you, sweetheart, and I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
You rest a hand over his, “I guess I need to punch you in the face so that we’re even, then.”
Something sparks behind his eyes. You shake your head a little too quickly, stars blossoming in your peripheral vision.
“No,” you say. “Absolutely not.”
Barry Allen:
Barry has always hated sparring. He hates the brutality of it, hates how cocky his usual sparring partner—none other than Hal Jordan—gets. Most of all, he hates hurting people that don’t deserve it, even if it is just for practice.
He’s never hated it more than he does right now, watching his fist connect with your face.
He watches it all in slow motion. The jab he intended to throw towards your shoulder, your attempt to dodge it, the unfortunate mix up that leads to his knuckles colliding with your cheek.
Barry’s catching you before you even have a chance to stumble back, hands soft on your hips, keeping you upright. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
Time speeds up again, you rub at the aching spot on your face.
“I really didn’t mean to, I swear, I was aiming for your shoulder and—”
You spin in his arms to face him. “Barry.”
His head is hung low, eyes teary and ashamed. You reach up to cup his face, “Barry, look at me.”
He glances up, looking like a kicked puppy. “I hurt you…”
“I’m fine, Barr.”
He shakes his head, the image of his fist colliding with your face replaying in his mind. His hands tighten on your hips, head falling into the crook of your neck.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” Barry kisses gently at your shoulder, “I’d never hurt you on purpose.”
You sigh, knowing you’re not going to get anywhere anytime soon. “I know, Barry. I know.”
You hold him for a while, letting him cry into your shoulder.
Booster Gold:
The sound of his fist hitting the underside of your jaw echoes in Michael’s ears. The sound of you hitting the mat follows, loud and hard and something that’ll probably never leave the back of his mind.
His brain short circuits. He freezes. For all the times you’ve sparred, he’s never managed to even land a hit on you before, let alone one this hard. He watches you hit the mat, watches you bounce then draw yourself back into a sitting position.
You look up at him from the ground, wiping a trickle of blood dripping from where you bit your lip. You rub at your aching jaw, the spot that’s sure to hurt for the next week minimum.
Booster’s neurons start firing again. He steps towards you, reaching a hand to help you up and you flinch. Something cold floods his chest, even after you clasp your hand around his and let him haul you to your feet.
You’re afraid of him now.
“I-I’m so sorry, are you—” All of that usual bravado is drained from his voice like the colour from his cheeks. “Are you okay?”
You nod, “just a little dizzy, might need to sit out a minute.”
His voice cracks. “I think we should call it there for today.”
You look up, tilting your head at your boyfriend. “Are you…crying?”
He shakes his head but you see the way his eyes are glistening, see the stray tear that drips down his cheek. You reach up, swiping a thumb at it. He shrinks beneath your touch, tries to withdraw from you only for you to catch his hand.
“I hurt you,” he says plainly.
“I’m fine.”
“I-I hit you.”
“You didn’t mean to.”
He shrinks even more, broad shoulders folded in on themselves. You wrap your arms around him, pulling yourself closer to him.
“How about we stop with the sparring for today?” You mumble against him.
“Yes, please.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
froggi i was going to participate in your neglected week but i missed the time when requests were open 💔 i blame the time zones fr 😭 but if you do something like this again wait for meeee
aw no!! that’s not your fault at all 💔 i didn’t set a deadline at first cause i didn’t think id get many reqs and then i got a ton out of nowhere :,) when we hit 10k (sooo close, hopefully the next week or so) im gonna have another event :p
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My secret to write good dc fanfic is that my mouthwash is Teen Titans Go themed. If you ever feel low in writing juices get one of those Froggi. That’s the key ingredient, trust
(i randomly got an allergic reaction to the boring grown up one once and i’ve been using the kids version since then, it used to be these Fisher Price cute animal thingies and it’s TTG now lol)
- morph
i may need to go and get me one of those, i fear ive been running dry on inspo 💔 and all my brain wants to write is wally content
I really want to write for Wally but I’m scared I’m gonna mischaracterize him especially since the only media I really know him from is from Young Justice
do u have any tips on writing him?
—🪻 (I don’t think this one is taken but pls tell me if it is)
hmm wally can be hard sometimes cause i think its kinda easy to box him in as one thing. whenever i write a new character i usually write down so key traits for them ++ some dialogue they’ve had so i can refer to that
i’d also say give some of his comics a try :p there’s a short silly one shot kinda that he has with kyle/conner that’s really funny (ill ss it down below). and as much as i hatehatehate tom king, heroes in crisis is a wally-centric story that shows you some of his mental
flash forward is the tie in after that and again has some really good wally content!!
also maybe the current titans + current flash runs if you feel like it.
but at the end of the day, no two people will write him the same. ive found we all take away different traits and iterations for characters and there’s not always one right way to characterize them
++ if you wanna write for young justice, there’s no shame in that either 💚💚
i posted a dick fic earlier today and it was soooo long (12k)
i'm working on a wally fic now cause not only did you inspire me to start writing reader insert fics but you also got me into wally!! i actually bought issues 1-14 of absolute flash a few weeks ago bc of you.
however i will not be writing this fic with absolute wally despite how adorable he looks; he's 15 so no fuckin way
maybe when i finish the wally fic i will reveal myself and send you the link....
-🍒
omg please do 🥺 i would love to write anything you put out for wally!! & would love to read your other stuff too
genuinely sooo envious how you’re able to put out long fics because my brain is simply not braining
let the games begin (nsfw)
poly!primehood x fem!reader
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.....)
—————————————————————————
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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Includes: Wally West, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen & Michael Carter
Summary: he accidentally hurts you while sparring
Content/CW -> gn! reader, minor injury, mentions of blood (Dick's), guilt, crying, hurt/comfort, mild angst
froggi yaps -> im sorry i know i should be writing more neglect week fics but </3 i missed wally so much i needed a quick break to write this. ty to my pookie bear for helping me pick the characters + write them <3
Wally West:
Wally’s buzzing, the energy that lives under his skin surging through his veins like lightning. He bounces around on the balls of his feet as the two of you circle the mat.
You get a couple jabs in, all playful with no real intent behind them. Wally jabs back, kicks out at you, spins so he’s standing behind you. The energy crackles and burns under his skin. You spin, punching out at him. Wally catches your wrist and blocks.
He goes to throw a punch, that familiar lightning bubbling up inside of him. It’s a split second too fast, a tad too strong and yet, he doesn’t react fast enough to stop it.
His fist collides with the side of your jaw. You hit the mat. Hard.
Wally drops to the floor with you, panic surging in his chest when you don’t open your eyes. He taps your face, “baby? Baby, look at me.”
You don’t move, limp in his arms, head lulled to the side. He cups your cheek, thumb smoothing over the spot where he hit you.
“C’mon, c’mon.” Tears burn at his eyes as he pulls you into his lap, arms under your legs and shoulders, ready to pick you up. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart.”
And just before he can lift you up, your eyes are fluttering open and Wally’s breathing a sigh of relief. The tears he was holding back slip from his eyes, hot and heavy on his freckled cheeks.
“Thank god,” he tugs you into his chest, burying his face in your shoulder.
“Wally?” You groan, rubbing the side of your face, “did you—you knocked me out.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, doll, I didn’t mean—“
You lean in, pressing your lips to his, swiping at his tears with your thumb. “I know, Walls.”
“I love you, I—I’d never ever hurt you.”
“Wally,” you clasp his face between your palms, “I’m okay. It’s okay.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing under your touch. “I think I’m done with sparring for like, forever now.”
You giggle slightly. “Such a drama queen.”
Dick Grayson:
A million thoughts race through Dick’s head when his fist collides with the side of your face. He’s at your side in an instant, catching you when you stagger back and helping lower you to the mats.
You rub at the side of your face, laughing humorlessly. “Nice one.”
Dick, unfortunately, doesn’t see what’s so funny about the situation. His lips are drawn into a frown, brows creased together as he examines you for any signs of injury.
His hands are all over you, cupping your face, tilting your head every which way to make sure he hasn’t accidentally maimed you. He’s never intentionally gone for your head during sparring, never once did the thought ever cross his mind. Your wires just got crossed.
He threw a jab and you ducked and before he knew it, his fist had connected with your face.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he says finally. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean to.”
You shrug, “we’re sparring, Dick. It was bound to happen eventually. Let’s keep going.”
“You’re taking at least a five minute break first.”
“What? I’m—” You pause, words dying on your tongue when you feel a hot trickle of blood drip from your nose. Swiping it on the back of your hand, you quiet your voice, “...fine.”
“Yeah, fine.” He shakes his head, jumping to his feet to grab a towel.
He presses it carefully to your face, pinching the soft part of your nose. You lean into his touch, the stinging in your face that radiated to your nostrils suddenly making sense now.
“Dick,” you say quietly, voice muffled by the blood-stained towel.
He looks at you, eyes stormy.
“It’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look like you’re five seconds away from crawling into a hole and dying?”
He sighs, “because—fuck, I hurt you, sweetheart, and I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
You rest a hand over his, “I guess I need to punch you in the face so that we’re even, then.”
Something sparks behind his eyes. You shake your head a little too quickly, stars blossoming in your peripheral vision.
“No,” you say. “Absolutely not.”
Barry Allen:
Barry has always hated sparring. He hates the brutality of it, hates how cocky his usual sparring partner—none other than Hal Jordan—gets. Most of all, he hates hurting people that don’t deserve it, even if it is just for practice.
He’s never hated it more than he does right now, watching his fist connect with your face.
He watches it all in slow motion. The jab he intended to throw towards your shoulder, your attempt to dodge it, the unfortunate mix up that leads to his knuckles colliding with your cheek.
Barry’s catching you before you even have a chance to stumble back, hands soft on your hips, keeping you upright. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
Time speeds up again, you rub at the aching spot on your face.
“I really didn’t mean to, I swear, I was aiming for your shoulder and—”
You spin in his arms to face him. “Barry.”
His head is hung low, eyes teary and ashamed. You reach up to cup his face, “Barry, look at me.”
He glances up, looking like a kicked puppy. “I hurt you…”
“I’m fine, Barr.”
He shakes his head, the image of his fist colliding with your face replaying in his mind. His hands tighten on your hips, head falling into the crook of your neck.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” Barry kisses gently at your shoulder, “I’d never hurt you on purpose.”
You sigh, knowing you’re not going to get anywhere anytime soon. “I know, Barry. I know.”
You hold him for a while, letting him cry into your shoulder.
Booster Gold:
The sound of his fist hitting the underside of your jaw echoes in Michael’s ears. The sound of you hitting the mat follows, loud and hard and something that’ll probably never leave the back of his mind.
His brain short circuits. He freezes. For all the times you’ve sparred, he’s never managed to even land a hit on you before, let alone one this hard. He watches you hit the mat, watches you bounce then draw yourself back into a sitting position.
You look up at him from the ground, wiping a trickle of blood dripping from where you bit your lip. You rub at your aching jaw, the spot that’s sure to hurt for the next week minimum.
Booster’s neurons start firing again. He steps towards you, reaching a hand to help you up and you flinch. Something cold floods his chest, even after you clasp your hand around his and let him haul you to your feet.
You’re afraid of him now.
“I-I’m so sorry, are you—” All of that usual bravado is drained from his voice like the colour from his cheeks. “Are you okay?”
You nod, “just a little dizzy, might need to sit out a minute.”
His voice cracks. “I think we should call it there for today.”
You look up, tilting your head at your boyfriend. “Are you…crying?”
He shakes his head but you see the way his eyes are glistening, see the stray tear that drips down his cheek. You reach up, swiping a thumb at it. He shrinks beneath your touch, tries to withdraw from you only for you to catch his hand.
“I hurt you,” he says plainly.
“I’m fine.”
“I-I hit you.”
“You didn’t mean to.”
He shrinks even more, broad shoulders folded in on themselves. You wrap your arms around him, pulling yourself closer to him.
“How about we stop with the sparring for today?” You mumble against him.
“Yes, please.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
Pairing: Victor Stone x afab! reader (no pronouns used but reader menstruates)
Summary: when you don't show up to a Titans meeting, Victor comes to see you
Word Count: 830
Content/CW -> afab! reader (no pronouns used but reader menstruates), hurt/comfort, casual banters, ambiguous relationship, reader is a titan
— requested as part of my neglect week event
froggi yaps -> this ended up being eerily similar to my superboy prime fic so please ignore that lols...some more vic content for me and his 12 fans to enjoy <3
There are three things Victor notices when he shows up for regular scheduled training with the Titans.
One is that Wally West is late. Again. For the fastest man alive, he sure takes his sweet time getting everywhere.
The second thing he notices is that Donna Troy and Garth have started sparring without everyone, Donna already having the Atlantean pinned to the mat beneath one of her muscled forearms. Roy Harper watches from the sidelines with wide eyes that say something like, I hope I’m not next.
The third thing, and most important to him, is the distinct lack of you. You’re not standing in the corner smiling at Donna’s antics, not sitting on the ground and tying your shoes, thinking of something witty to say when Wally does finally arrive.
On a good day, Victor feels your presence like sunlight. Like warmth on his skin, joy in his heart, something steady and constant. Today, he feels your absence like a thunderstorm. Heavy and loud and pouring over him until he’s soaked in it.
He sidles up to Dick. “Hey, we’re missing someone.”
The former Robin is typing something on his phone—held way too close to his face for someone as young as he is—his thumbs moving a mile a minute.
“Yeah, Wally’s running late today.” He doesn’t even look up from his screen.
“Not the someone I had in mind,” Vic chuckles, and Dick finally looks up.
His brows pull together as he examines the room, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape when he notices your absence. “Yeah, I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one.”
“Why not?”
Dick cringes like he’s said something he’s not supposed to say, “shark week, apparently.”
Realization dawns on Victor, his mind going back to yesterday. You had seemed off. Lower energy, a little snappier than usual, and you’d looked like you were in pain after the mission and not just from the usual bruising you obtained.
Excusing himself for a minute, Victor tries your cell, only for it to go to voicemail. His heart sinks. You never ignore his calls.
He glances back at the practice room, at his comrades sparring each other, before looking down at your contact photo. Fuck it, he thinks. They’ll live one day without him.
Victor finds you in bed, curled up in a ball under a nest of blankets. You’re wide awake, watching some tv drama he’s never seen before, an arm around your waist like it’ll magically stop your stomach from aching.
“Hey, zombie, we missed you at practice today.”
You blink, not having realized he’d come in. He must’ve used the spare key you’d given him, trusting him the most out of everyone you worked with to have one. Wally had frowned when you said that but everyone else found it reasonable.
You rub at your face, suddenly feeling self conscious about how you’ve been bedrotting all day. “Zombie?”
“Since you’re the living dead.”
“So dramatic.” You suppress an eyeroll at his stupid joke. “I’m not dead, just bleeding out.”
“Uh huh, I’m the dramatic one.”
You laugh a little at that, your cramps doubling in strength. You hunch over, pressing your stomach to your thighs. You wince, the pain doing anything but subsiding.
“Seriously, are you okay? You never miss an opportunity to beat up Wally and Roy.”
“Never better,” you groan.
He steps further into your room, settling down at the edge of your bed. The weight of him in your bed is a familiar comfort, something you’ve felt dozens of times on better nights between movies and video games.
“Can I get you anything?”
You think for a moment. “Any chance you have a heating pad on hand?”
“No but,” he flashes you an awkward smile, “I might have something better.”
“Better?”
“You trust me, right?”
“Nothing good has ever come from you saying that, Vic.”
He cocks his head to the side, “I know, I know.”
“But,” you sigh, “I’m willing to try anything.”
He hums, crawling up your mattress until he’s laying in the bed next to you. Tentatively, he wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a hand over the spot where you ache the worst.
You relax into him, your back pressed to his chest. “Not that I mind but—is this just an excuse to cuddle?”
He rests his head over yours. “Wait for it.”
And then suddenly his hand is heating up, soothing away the cold ache that’s sat between your hips all day. A moan slips through your lips, your body finally unfurling from the awkward uncomfortable position you’ve been in all day.
Slowly, the rest of his body follows suit, forming a warm cocoon around you. You lay your head back against his shoulder, the warm metal like the sun on your back.
He chuckles, sending vibrations down your spine. “That feel better?”
“So much better,” you sigh, resting your hand over his and pressing it harder into your stomach. “You’re the best.”
“Anytime, cutiepie.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
Hi can I request victor stone period comfort for the event please! 💞
Specifically a scenario where she’s also in the titans/JL and she doesn’t show up for work so he goes to her place and she’s a lil miserable bc of her cramps (my current situation 💔✌️)
hi babes <3 i really hope you feel better now ++ that your cramps weren't too bad!! i hope you enjoy it !!
Wally West x gn!Reader smut - one tent/sleeping bag + super speed + overstimulation + no use of y/n + praise.
Requested by @forgetmenotsilly
A/N: Tried to be as gender neutral with the reader's body parts as possible so some things are vague.
divider by @toxisyddy
You weren't sure if you liked camping, too many bugs and such, though the nature was pretty. Despite your tepid opinion on the activity, Wally was determined to change your mind on it.
The hand on your mouth muffled your moans, the rustle of a sleeping back just barely drowning out what escaped. Your eyes were rolled back in your head, fucked dumb and drooling beneath Wally's hand as he watched your face with awe.
"W-wow…look at you," he panted, voice soft to match the whisper of wind that fluttered out from your joint sleeping bag. While it was just the two of you out there in those woods, sharing a tent and enjoying nature, the last thing you wanted was to attract unwanted attention from the wildlife in the woods.
His hips were just barely smacking against yours far faster than any human could ever move, the sound almost muffled with how fast he was moving. The coil in your gut was building far too fast for your brain to register, and Wally wondered if you even knew he was covering your mouth right now. It wasn't your first orgasm of the night--that one gripped you 30 minutes ago, and led to the two of you needing to swap sleeping bags due to the amount of cum that leaked out of you.
"Come on, baby," Wally got out, his face dropping to the crook of your neck as he nipped the skin there, "Cum for me again. Just one more, yeah?"
He said "just one more" two orgasms ago. A sob broke from your chest, the overstimulation washing over you as his hand slipped between you. You jolted as it vibrated against you, pulling the orgasm out of you far more forcefully than you were prepared for.
"Thereee we go. Very good," he said, panting heavily into your neck. A few seconds later and he was groaning, hips slowing to a halt as his dick pulsed and shot ropes and ropes of cum inside you. It was already dark in the tent, but the exhaustion made it darker still, a peaceful satisfaction wrapping around you.
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꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ you sneak into the library for a quickie but get distracted by the books . . . jason todd x fem!reader, mdni, suggestive, fluff, reader’s wearing a sundress
inspired by this
Jason follows you around the library, his callused hand in yours. Amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes when he sees you scanning the shelves, looking for the perfect place for a quick fuck—your words, not his.
Jason had just given you a "you serious right now?" look and let you tug him around like a dog on a leash.
But even before that, he knew. His eyes had trailed over your form, over your short sundress, the one that had his head spinning since the moment he saw you in it. Convenient. It was a frilly thing that kept blowing up in the wind. You'd laughed. He cursed your carefree nature and kept the bottom of your skirt down.
He'd fight the wind and anyone who dared to look. And the sly look you gave him told him you damn well knew that too.
"Hurry." You tug him into a slightly secluded area between bookshelves. He inhales the scent of books, instantly feeling his muscles relax.
"Jason, focus," you complain, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and tugging him down until his breath hovers over your lips.
His eyes find yours.
You smile. "It'll be quick."
He scoffs, but his lips curl up too. "Nothing's ever quick with you," he says, and he means it. Jason likes to savor you, worship you like no man ever has because you're his. It pains him to have to rush.
But well... how can he ever deny those pretty eyes you always weaponize?
"Fine, you win."
"I barely even tried."
"It's your eyes," he admits.
He starts gently, pushing you against the shelf—the classics section, his mind briefly notices before you crash your lips against his.
This kiss is messy and fast, your hands wandering down to palm him through his pants. He hisses, his hand sliding beneath your dress and up your ass.
He pauses, pulling back, his pupils blown. "Princess, you're not wearing anything—"
"Obviously." You roll your eyes and pull him back by his belt. "Now come on," you say impatiently.
"Fucking menace," he mutters, then presses hot kisses to the curve of your neck. For a moment, his eyes open, and they land on a book next to your head.
His body stills.
"Jason?"
He hums, his hands moving back to your waist.
"Jayyyyy." You drag his name out in hopes he'll pay attention to you.
"Gimme a sec, baby." He presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling the book from the shelf.
Pouting, you bury your face in his chest. His free hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.
His other hand turns the book over as he reads the back.
"What book?" you ask, mumbling, accepting that you're not getting anything until you're both home.
"East of Eden."
"Sounds boring," you reply, but you perk up to look it over with him.
"'S’not. We can read it together."
You grimace. The two of you have the complete opposite taste in books.
"Sure, babe. Whatever you want…"
"That's what I thought," he says, already walking toward the desk with the book tucked under his arm. This time he’s dragging you away.
cw: smut/18+ only, Jason is a good partner, gn!reader (no description of features/clothing)
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Anything Jason can do for you, he will.
Jason Todd/Reader (18+)
Jason Todd can't help it. He loves spoiling you, and this is demonstrated in many ways. Shown amply in the way that you see how he looks at you, like he can't quite understand why he hasn't woken up from the dream he's having.
Like every time he touches you, he's still trying to memorize the shape of you, in case you ever disappear from his grasp. Like each kiss that he presses against you with the heat of his mouth will be his last.
So Jason Todd loves to spoil you. Loves to surprise you with lovely little picnic dates to Robinson Park when the clouds exhibit themselves in picturesque manner.
Where he can unspool checkered picnic blankets for the two of you to dine on meals he's specifically made for the occasion. Sinking teeth into thickly cut sourdough bread sandwiches he's assembled in those wide, masculine hands of his.
Refreshing yourself with long-necked bottles of soda that bear condensation still dripping down the length as you clink them together in the merry ambience of the park. Admiring the finely made desserts he's made—tiramisu, panna cotta, blancmange—and looking at him with wonder.
"You made this for me?" You ask with hushed disbelief, a smile taking reign on your face.
"I like to spoil you," Is all he answers with.
And Jason Todd does love to spoil you. He loves to find things that remind you of him, knick-knacks and tchotchkes that you mention take root in nostalgia from your childhood. Showering you with charms and keychains in your favorite colors, albums that you've hankered longingly after in glossy store windows.
Tickets to movies you've mentioned in passing, where he can shuck his jacket over your shoulders in the frigidity of the cool night air. Little adventures that show that not only does he remember, but he makes the effort to demonstrate his commitment.
"How did you know I wanted to do this?" You ask with a winsome grin as the two of you go to axe throwing at a new joint that opened up.
"I like to spoil you," Is his characteristic answer that he says as he presses a kiss to the slope of your temple.
And Jason Todd knows how to spoil you. He knows his way around your body with deliberate, practiced ease. He knows the right way to roll his hips against the curve of your ass as he pumps his cock into you.
Knows to hook your legs over his shoulders in a mating press, laving his tongue over the width of your ankle as you moan. Takes the slow, torturous way to work his fingers in you and flex that has you whimpering, thighs twitching, fingers clenching into bunched sheets.
Knows just the way to croon husked praise into the shell of your ear as he presses his body over you. Keeps protracted meter that has you holding on to him for dear life as you exchange expletive with prayer . All he does is lap up the beaded sweat your exertion tacks on your bodies joined in union.
"Jason," You whine into his ear, raking your nails down his back, "You're gonna make me come—"
"Good," He groans as he hikes his hands around your hips, pulls you flush—and thrusts into you at angle that has you immobile with the pleasure of your nascent orgasm. The rest of his statement remains articulated in the way he coaxes you through how you come.
But that's just his way—after all, Jason Todd loves to spoil you.
