Spicy-Katsu

Clark: Actually, it was his idea.

Bruce Wayne: We are.

Tim Drake: For who exactly?

Dick Grayson whispering to Jason: People who desperately need therapy.

Not only that the language itself sounds straight out of a marvel forcibly funny haha moment, but Menelaus? The Menelaus who all thoughout human history, from Homer, to Sappho, to Euripides, to Virgil, to Shakespeare, to Brooke, to Barth; from Classical vases to Medieval poetry to Reinessance art, has been known as the man whose sword fell from his hands at the sight of his wife after 10 years apart?

"What joy for me to hold my wife" Menelaus?

"He flung the sword away, and kissed her feet" Menelaus?

"I believe all. I understand nothing. I love you" Menelaus?

"I have no fault to find; my wife, he daughter of Zeus and Leda, is mine again, she whom her brothers on their snow-white steeds, whilst torches blazed, made my happy bride, but gods removed her from my home." Menelaus?

The Menelaus who was picked out of the suitors by Helen herself? The Menelaus who couldn't kill a begging Trojan so his brother had to do it for him? The Menelaus who rescued Odysseus and got out Patroclus' body? The Menelaus who volounteered to fight Paris one on one so everybody could go home? Who kept expressing his guilt about himself being the cause of war through every assembly he spoke at in the Iliad? Who after 10 years away at Troy, took his wife through a 7-year long journey at sea back home, where he reinstated her as the queen of Sparta? Who wept like a child in front of Telemachus recalling the war and his brother and all the friends he lost and the only consolation being his wife' gentle hand on his?

You want me to believe that man scarred Helen's face and called her only worth half the ships because of it?

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 842 synopsis: Dick had one goal: to seduce his girlfriend. He forgot the part where he should check for unwanted guests first and narrates his plans in very, vivid detail. warning: talk of sexual themes

Dick Grayson practically bounced through the door. After a brutal day at work and a rare night off from his more nocturnal duties, he was beyond ready to spend the night with you—to the fullest.

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it—keys flung onto the counter, boots kicked halfway off, jacket tossed somewhere near the coat rack. His hair was tousled from the wind, and that boyish grin was plastered across his face like he’d just won the damn lottery.

“Babe?” he called out, already unbuttoning his shirt to reveal that smooth, unfairly sculpted chest. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

You glanced up from the couch, eyes widening in horror.

Too late.

“Been thinking about that mouth of yours,” Dick continued, blissfully unaware of the audience. “You saying my name, choking on it… You better not have eaten yet,” he smirked, prowling closer. “Because tonight, I’m the only thing on the menu. And if you’re really good, I’ll make you my dessert before tying you up like you asked—”

You opened your mouth—something, anything—but the words got stuck somewhere between your brain and your mortified soul.

Dick wasn’t done.

“—And if I do it right, baby,” he added, voice dropping into something criminal, “you won’t be walking straight tomorrow.”

“Please,” Tim begged, his voice hollow—like something inside him had just broken. “Stop.”

Dick screeched.

His head snapped up like a man slapped by God himself.

Jason was sprawled across the other couch, mid-bite of pizza, now frozen with a look of stunned horror.

Tim was slouched in the armchair, pale as death and clutching a throw pillow to his chest like it might protect him from the trauma.

Dick flailed like a man caught with his pants around his ankles—and spiritually, he was. “I—You—WHY ARE YOU ALL HERE?!”

Jason stood up slowly, face blank. “No. Absolutely not. I’m done. I’m leaving. My ears are bleeding. I need holy water. Maybe therapy. And a priest.”

Tim slowly turned to you, deadpan. “You asked for that?”

“I didn’t know he was going to narrate it like a damn porn script!” you hissed, trying to wedge yourself deeper into the couch cushions as if you could disappear entirely.

Damian sat cross-legged on the floor, one eyebrow twitching in confused revulsion. “What… what do you mean by that?”

Dick groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he stumbled backwards as he realized his youngest brother was here too. “Oh my god.”

Jason made a sound like he was dying. “He means sex, Damian! Dear God, why do I have to be the one to explain this?!”

Damian blinked. “…Then why are they the meal?”

Tim looked like his brain had short-circuited. Again.

Jason threw his hands up. “Nope. Not walking him through this. I’ve done my time.”

Dick, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, turned to you helplessly. “I swear I thought we were alone.”

You glared at him, mortified. “You described yourself as the entrée,” you snapped. “And me as dessert!”

Damian, still thoroughly lost, narrowed his eyes. “But neither of you are edible. That would be cannibalism.”

Jason grabbed his keys. “I’m going to pretend this never happened and go directly to the manor. If anyone ever speaks of this again—I swear—I’ll shoot them.”

Tim trailed after him, defeated. “I’m going to need a drink. And bleach. And maybe a lobotomy.”

The door slammed behind them, leaving only an awkward silence—and Damian, staring between the two of you with narrowed eyes.

Damian, still staring between you and Dick like you were an unsolvable puzzle, slowly tilted his head. “Is it… normal to talk about being consumed before intercourse?”

You made a strangled noise and grabbed the nearest throw pillow, mashing it to your face.

Dick groaned, dragging a hand down his face as if he could physically wipe away the humiliation. His voice was low and exhausted. “Damian. Leave. Before Jason drives off without you and pretends it was on accident.”

Damian huffed through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Tt. As if I would lower myself to ride with him.”

Still, he stood up and brushed the invisible lint from his trousers. He shot you both one last perplexed glance, muttered something in sharp Arabic—definitely a curse this time—and swept toward the door without another word.

The click of the door closing behind him echoed through the now silent apartment.

Dick finally turned to you, face still beet red, hair a mess, shirt half-open and forgotten. 

“So…” he began, voice sheepish. “Not the night I had planned.”

You hurled a couch pillow at his head.

He caught it easily, the bastard, flashing that boyish grin that somehow still managed to be charming after all this.

“Still love me?”

You pointed at the door. “Ask me after they recover.”

He winked, his voice dipping back into that sultry purr. “Bet I can make you forget about it.”

You paused.

“…Shut up and lock the door.”

That grin of his widened as he rushed to do as you said.

A/N: let me start by saying yes I know who this dude is and yes I have read Elektra and am currently reading The Odyssey. This fic takes place BEFORE (spoiler) the sacrifice of Iphy. Let me also say that when I went in to watch the movie I tried desperately not to be into him but alas, the armor and the slutty little curls underneath it got me fucked up !! If I could write an entire fic about just a tall, broad, stranger in the armor, I would.

If we like this, I have a part two in the oven rn with spicy time in the armor lmfao !

Warnings: piv, cum eating, 'good girl' used, kind of a self degredation(?) idk what you would call it but it's mild imo, greek *drama*

Mycenae Three years after the wedding of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, on the brink of the Trojan War.

The men are scared. You can feel it in the air. Their king-your king, paces at night at the thought of what is coming. He walks until his feet ache and the lanterns burn low. Neighbors have passed by with bellies full of drink and stopped at the sight of him through the palace window. Agamemnon, the resolute and stoic ruler, is apprehensive for the ocean of blood ahead. The years of clanging swords, of agony, of leaden grief. But, by the gods, that will not stop him.

BABY, WAKE UP…

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

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

Jason Todd

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wally West

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

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

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

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

Dick Grayson

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

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

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

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

Roy Harper

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

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

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

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

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

Damian Wayne

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

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

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

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

Conner Kent

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

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

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

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

pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Duke Thomas x reader

summary: You think that Gotham’s favourite heroes arent the perfect vigilantes that people sought them out to be, which seems to catch your boyfriends attention.

warnings: based off of this request, kinda shitty because I rushed it, use of pet names, gn!reader (I think), not proofread

Dick Grayson

“Hey babe, what are you watching?” Dick plopped himself on the couch next to you, throwing one arm behind your head.

You were hunched over, eyes focused on the screen of your telephone.

“Huh? Oh- look at this, Dick!” You shoved the phone in his face. The video you played was one of Nightwing, doing tricks on a rooftop.

He grinned and looked so sure of himself. Too sure of himself.

“Yeah he’s pretty cool, don’t you think?”

You pulled your phone back. “Cool? He’s just a rich guy playing dress up!”

Dick stared at you, almost offended. “Well, I’m sure he’s definitely more than that.”

You scoffed, “He’s really not. I mean all these so called vigilantes are nothing but some rich people who think they’re better than everyone else. Think about how better off all of that money he spent on those-” you inhaled, “-God awful costumes would be if it was invested into projects for the community.”

Dick looked like he just suffered the biggest heartbreak of his life and his reaction did not go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong Dick?”

His voice cracked as he spoke, “You… think, his costumes are bad?”

You took in his shaken state and placed one hand over his.

“Well, I mean ‘Discowing’ wasn’t exactly a fashion phenomenon.” You chuckled lightly, “I’m sorry Dick I didn’t know you were a Nightwing fan.”

He shot his head up, blue eyes shining in the living room light.

“Im not… I just, why do you not like him? Do you just hate all superheroes?”

“He’s not a real superhero, Dick. He’s a rich dude who knows acrobatics.”

“Wha- then who do you consider a real superhero then!?”

You sighed dramatically, throwing your head back into his lap. “Oh, I don’t know, that flash guy is really cute. And his superpowers are cool.”

Your giggles came out playfully as Dick stared at you, his jaw slack.

“Seriously? The flash?”

You smiled, “Yeah. Come here now.”

One of your hands threaded through his black locks, pulling his face down so your lips could meet his.

Dick didn’t dare to protest and kissed you back, then pulled away for a second.

“Just for clarification, what would you want Nightwings costume to look like?”

Jason Todd

You were just done with work for the day, walking out of your office building when two men decided to corner you for your purse.

The two men were now lying on the floor, with none other than the Red Hood standing above them to land one last punch to the blonde haired man’s jaw.

You had watched the whole scene unravel from the corner of the alleyway you had found yourself in, eyes wide as followed the figure of the tall vigilante fight.

“You alright?” Red Hood crouched down to talk eye-level with you while you gathered your thoughts.

Something in you snapped as soon as heard his voice, words spilling out far too fast.

“Yeah. I could’ve handled the situation myself, by the way.”

Your chest heaved. Yes you were definitely scared shitless right now, but you were not going to give this man the satisfaction of your gratitude.

“Oh, Really?” You could hear his shit eating grin even under his mask.

“Yeah. I don’t need some guy with metal plastered on him like some wannabe batman to be able to defend myself.”

Red Hood scoffed, his voice lowering to a dangerous tone.

“Alright gorgeous. Wanna let me help you get home?”

You shoved a finger in his face, “Hey! I watch who you’re calling gorgeous! I have a boyfriend!”

He laughed. why won’t he back away already?!

“Yeah?”

“Yes. And he definitely wouldn’t like you talking to me that way. Mainly because I don’t like you talking to me that way!” You huffed, turning around to grab your purse as you tried to get up.

At literally the worst time possible the band of your heel snapped, making you tumble over to the man in black as you braced yourself on his chest.

You guys locked eyes (well, through his mask) for a few moments before you woke back to reality.

“Ugh-get your hands off me.” You pushed yourself off of him, making your way out from the alley.

He watched as you limped out into the streets.

“You going to walk home like that?”

You looked back at him, narrowing your eyes.

“-you know I can take you home right?”

The idea lingered in your head. Would it be stupid to walk home with a man you’ve never met before?

Yes, it would. It very much would be. That’s why you were now clinging to him like a maniac as he soared through the streets of Gotham with his motorcycle.

The cold air hit your face so you squeezed your eyes as closed as possible, trying to calm yourself down.

You only re-opened them once you felt him come to a stop.

“Hey pretty. We’re here.”

You grimaced at the nickname and stumbled off his bike.

“Do not call me that.”

Red hood apologised with a teasing tone that made you hate him even more.

“Sooo, not very fond of my hero persona? Most people don’t react like this when I save their lives.” He added.

“First of all, I had it under control. Second of all, I don’t appreciate random people thinking they’re above the law. Leave that stuff to the police.” You snapped back, readjusting your purse as you walked into your building.

“Good night.”

The clock read 2 am when you heard the front door click open.

You ran over, throwing your hands around your boyfriend’s neck as you let him pick you up.

“Jay! You won’t believe the day I just had.”

He grinned. “Oh really? Why don’t you let me get ready for bed, then you can tell me all about it.”

Duke Thomas

The bitter steam of the coffee you just ordered lingered around your nose as you brought the mug to your lips, waiting patiently in the cafe for your boyfriend to arrive.

You looked up when you heard the bell ding, seeing Duke stand in the middle of the doorframe with a big smile plastered on his face.

He walked over to you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling out a chair and sitting next to you.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hi Duke.” You smiled back.

You both started conversing about your day before the change of channels on the cafe TV caught your attention.

“It has appeared another crime scene was seen unraveling early this morning in Gotham. The superhero known as the signal seemed to take matters into his own hands. And while he succeeded, the perpetrator still managed to escape.” The brown haired news reporter said.

You didn’t notice the way Duke tensed up in his seat as you watched the screen.

“This is so stupid.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Huh-what did you say?” He replied.

You sighed, “Ugh-it’s just, why do we keep putting up with all this vigilante bullshit? When’s the last time you saw signal jail a guy without destroying public property?”

Duke laughed nervously, “Yeah, but come on baby, he’s saving lives.”

“At what cost though? And let’s not act like that suit was cheap either. That money could have been invested in schools! Do you know how fucked the Gotham school system is?!”

He gently rubbed his hand up and down your back as you continued to ramble on.

“I don’t understand! There are decent people like Bruce who’ll actually donate their money and not hog every last dollar to their multi-million dollar selves.” You grumbled. “Bet Batman never spent a single cent on charity, with his stupid fancy Batmobile-”

Duke watched you speaking passionately, eyes never leaving you. Oh if you only knew.

Ty for reading! Reblogs & comments appreciated<3

a/n: I ran out of ideas in the end :(

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you cannot tell me dick grayson doesnt have the craziest morning boner

he would wake up with you lying on your side, back pressed against his chest and sleeping soundly. all unaware from the large poking that was on your ass

poor man didn’t wanna wake you up because one, it was seven in the morning. and two, you were sleeping so peacefully he couldn’t bring himself to ruin your slumber

so instead, dick would just lazily grind his boner on your ass, pressing his lips on your shoulder to hold back any sounds and pant on your skin. and when you would shift and unknowingly press your ass more to his cock, he would shut his eyes and throw his head back to let out a quiet yet deep groan, his voice still laced with sleep

that’s it, his last fucking straw

“babe” dick carefully nudged you, desperation in his voice. but there was no answer from you. he trailed a path of kisses from your shoulders all the way under your jaw, only to hear a small “hm?” leave your sleepy lips “dick, it’s too early” you mumbled, eyes still closed and about to reach for dick’s head and press his face more into your neck. but your eyes slowly fluttered open from something poking and rubbing on your ass “dick? what are you—" “please, baby…” you could hear the slight desperation in his morning voice, his hips not stopping and still slowly rubbing on your ass. “woke up with the craziest boner… fuck, i need you” 

scratch ‘slight’, he was desperate desperate. begging from behind your back at what, seven in the morning?

you let out a breathless sigh from dick already nudging your panties down slowly, giving him a slow nod and already closing your eyes to fall back asleep. “just don’t wake me up, i need to be up soon” and as a confirmation, you spreaded your legs a bit more and pressed your ass more to his cock

god, that was all he needed to hear “i promise” dick whispered in your ear, thumb rubbing small circles on your cunt and feeling your arousal slowly form. “you were always too good for me, thank you baby” a small whimper left your lips. even when you were asleep— or at least trying to— his touch always pulled out reactions from you

he took his thumb off to pull his boxers down and line his hard and tip with your pussy, pre cum slightly glistening from the head. a relieved sigh left dick’s lips when he began to slowly insert his cock in, the familiar warm walls of your cunt greeting him with a welcome he so desperately needed. 

“thaaat’s it” he murmured on your neck, one hand shifting to slide under your shirt and fondle with your boob— which made you let out a small moan— while the other gripped on your hip. “fuck, just what i needed”

your lips slightly parted for a small moan to slip, your closed eyes now rolling to the back of your head as dick moved your bra strap from your shoulder to leave open mouthed kisses while sinking more of his length in you and once his cock was fully buried in you, dick stayed like that just to take your warmth in, groans humming on your skin and brushing his thumb on your nipple. a gasped moan left your lips, the sleep slowly fading from your body and your eyes fluttering open

"dick” you whined, squirming your ass as a sign for him to move. “i need you to move. please” he let out a chuckle from behind and you could practically feel a lopsided grin form on his lips. “thought you wanted to sle— ohhh fuck” dick moaned when he felt you bury his head more into the collar of your neck and your fingers sliding into his hair, his cock twitching in you as a response. you let out a small chuckle but it trailed into a moan when dick slowly rolled his hips to your ass “attagirl” he groaned, sending another lazy yet deep roll of his hips to your pussy and going crazy from how you were sucking him in. “just like that”

the depth of dick’s thrusts was making up for the pace— which was more than enough since he was already huge. and it did nothing but make the sleep fade from both you and him

“dick— oh god” you let out a breathless sigh from his tip nudging deep enough that it was hitting all the right angles, your back arching instinctively and pressing your ass more to his hips for more. 

and to add more with his lazy yet deep thrusts and groping, dick whispered all kinds of things to you in that morning voice you loved while fondling with your boob

“that’s it, gorgeous. take it for me”

“look at her go, fuuuuck. all for me” “cmon pretty girl, give it to me. make a mess”

another deep roll of dick’s thrusts and it made you clench all over his cock for your orgasm to come crashing, broken chants of his name leaving your fully gaped lips and your wide eyes almost seeing stars from how hard you came he let out a groan, the thrusts now sounding wet as he felt his own orgasm slowly approach. dick’s hand from your boobs trailed up to tilt your head up for his lips to meet yours in a slow, intimate kiss that were filled with pants one last roll of his hips made dick moan on your mouth, feeling his warm cum now fill you up as his cock still slowly dragged itself to fuck his cum in you. a pleasured sigh left yours into dick’s mouth as he kept murmuing small “thank you, oh thank you so much” repeatedly in your mouth

his cock finally stilled in your pussy, now soft and feeling the warmth of your pussy and his cum now buried to the brim in you. slowly, both of you pulled away from the kiss with a trail of saliva before it broke immediately

your gaze met with dick’s blue ones as both of you were catching your breaths. his hand shifted to cradle your cheek and his lips panted a smile, tucking a messy hair strand behind your ear

but right where he could kiss you again more softer and tell you what a good job you did, the alarm began to ring on the nightstand

there goes your sleep... and your sheets!

—————————————————————————

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"Your dad is really fucking sexy"

Blurbs; Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas x reader (who is wilding for some unknown reason)

Summary: You happen to see Bruce Wayne on TV, and you let your boyfriend know you'd so bang his dad.

TW: Two are pure smut, no dark themes (I don't do that :p), the other two are kind of smutty. So read at your own risk. Minors dni.

A/n: The girls are going to be in part 2, I have not forgotten about them I promise.

DICK GRAYSON

You squint at the TV, then lean up to whisper right against Dick’s ear, “You know… I’d so fuck your dad.”

Dick freezes mid-stroke through your hair. He blinks, letting out a snicker that quickly turns into a gasp of betrayal when he realizes you’re serious.

“You what?” he sputters, clutching his chest like you just plunged a batarang into his sternum. “Babe. No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, running a hand down his stomach and lightly pulling at the waistband of his sweatpants. “Look at him! He’s totally sexy.”

“He’s an old man with back pain!” Dick squawks, grabbing your wrist, though he doesn't actually stop you from slipping your hand lower. “I am literally the younger and hotter one! Your eyes should be on ME”

You trail your fingers over his boner, making his breath hitch. “But there’s just something about a guy who could snap me in half”

“I can snap you in half right now!” he choked out, pinning your hands above your head, straddling your lap. “I have spent hours fucking you into this mattress until you scream my name, and you’re sitting here fantasizing about the man who grounded me for three weeks in high school? Your the worst!”

“I’m just saying the jawline’s delicious,” you smirk, bucking up against him.

Dick groans and dramatically throws his head back before leaning down to bite your neck  “Shut up,” he hisses against your skin, sliding his hand under your shirt to cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple. “You’re taking my dick tonight, not his. And I’m going to make you apologize for every word of that blasphemy while I’m deep inside you.”

“So… no father-son double team?” you whisper innocently.

“I am going to choke you,” Dick laughs, wildly turned on, his lips hot against yours. “Babe, seriously. Never say that shit again”

JASON TODD

You tilt your head, tracing a thumb over Jason’s heavily calloused knuckles. “You know… I’d totally fuck your dad.”

Jason doesn't even pause his cleaning cloth. He just slowly exhales through his nose, his eyes fixated on the slide of his gun.

“Mhm. Yeah, totally, babe,” he says dryly. “You’re definitely not just spewing bullshit to try to get under my skin and score a nice fuck.”

You roll your eyes, digging your hip into his thigh. “I’m serious! He’s so fucking sexy!”

“Babe,” Jason cuts in, finally tossing the rag onto the coffee table with a thud. He looks down at you, a smirk pulling at the corner of his scarred lips. “If you want me to tie you to the bedpost and rearrange your guts, you just have to ask. You don’t need to bring the old man’s midlife crisis into my living room.”

“I’m just saying, he’s got that physique going for him and thos– ah!”

Before you can finish the sentence, Jason’s hands shoot out, grabbing your hips and tossing you onto your back on the sofa cushions. The weight of him presses down on you in a heartbeat, his knee shoving your legs apart as he looms over you.

“Yeah? You like the physique?” he mocks, his hand snaking up your thigh, bunching up your skirt until his calloused palm is flush against your panties. “You want someone to make you shut your smart fucking mouth?”

Your breath hitches, your cunt throbbing instantly. “Maybe.”

“You’re a dirty little instigator,” he mutters against your lips, biting your lower lip hard enough to make you moan before pushing your panties to the side. “Thinking about my dad while sitting on my lap? That’s sick. I’m gonna have to rail you until you forget your own name, just to clear out the fucking mental picture.”

“Promises, promises,” you gasp as his palm grinds over your clit.

Jason chuckles darkly “Shut up and lift your hips. Let’s see if Bruce could make you scream half as loud as I’m about to.”

TIM DRAKE

You lean forward, resting your chin on Tim’s shoulder. “You know… I’d so bang your dad.”

He sighs and turns his head, dark circles under his eyes, staring at you like you just spoke in ancient Sumerian.

“I thought you hated him,” Tim says, his voice flat with utter bewilderment. “You literally hated him yesterday!”

“That was yesterday,” you hum, sliding onto his lap and straddling his thighs. “Today, I’m noticing the jawline. He’s a silver fox, Timmy. So fucking fine”

“What is wrong with you?” Tim groans, slamming his laptop shut as his hands automatically catch your waist. “You have such a dirty mind! He’s my father figure!”

“I bet he’s dominant,” you whisper, running your fingers through Tim’s messy hair, sliding down his neck to tug at his collar. “Probably takes what he wants.”

Tim’s jaw tightens, a flush creeping up his neck that isn't entirely from anger. “Are you trying to get under my skin? Because it’s working. It’s working really well, and not in the way you think, you absolute menace.”

“Oh yeah?” You grind your hips down against him, feeling the hard length already pressing against his jeans. “You look pretty bothered, Drake.”

“I’ve been awake working on this case, and now my partner is telling me they want to get bent over by my boss,” Tim huffs. He tilts your chin up, his eyes sharp. “You think he’s dominant? Are you sick of riding me? What is this? I could be on top” he argued, defensively 

“Prove it,” you smirk.

Tim huffs petulantly, spinning the chair around and pinning you back against his desk, scattering files everywhere. His hand slides roughly under your thigh, hooking over your knee to pull you wide open for him.

DUKE THOMAS crashing out why is there no yellow

You squint at the screen, running a hand up Duke’s inner thigh. “You know… I’d so do your dad.”

Duke’s thumbs stills on the controller. His character immediately gets blasted off a cliff, but he doesn't even care. He drops the controller into his lap, staring at you in horrified disbelief.

“Ew, babe! That is disgusting!” Duke yelps, as he shoves your hand back. “What brought that on?? Where is this coming from? Are you ovulating? Is your brain leaking? What is happening right now?!”

“I’m just observing facts!” you laugh, wiggling closer and hooking your leg over his waist. “You can’t tell me he wouldn’t know exactly what to do with—”

“Do not finish that sentence!” Duke groans, slapping his hands over his ears. “That is my father. A man who goes to bed at five in the morning and drinks black coffee like it’s water.”

“I’m just saying, the broad ass shoulders and jawline?” You smirk up at him, bucking your hips slightly against his. “It’s hot.”

“You know what’s actually hot?” Duke rolls his eyes, his tone growing slightly arrogant. He leans down, his chest crushing against yours, his knee shoving right between your legs to press hard against your cunt. “The guy holding you who can go for three rounds without taking a breath. The guy who literally bends you over this sofa every weekend.”

Your breath hitches as his thigh grinds upward, right through your shorts. “Oh, so now you’re competitive?”

“I’m not competitive, I’m offended,” Duke mutters against your neck, nipping hard at the curve where your shoulder meets your collarbone. His free hand slides down, ripping your shorts down your hips until his warm calloused palm is cupping you bare and dripping. “You want someone who can barely keep his dick up? When you have me?”

A/n: to my moots. the demons possessed me into writing this. im so much more than js horny i swear.

Jason: are you wearing bath and body works warm vanilla sugar?

Dick:

Dick: how?

Dick: yes?

Dick: I heard spiders hate vanilla.

Tim: spiders hate basic bitches because basic bitches wear vanilla.

Bonus:

Bruce passing Jason’s room. Is assaulted by the smell of vanilla. Opens the door seeing ten scent diffusers, a bunch of wax melters and he’s spraying vanilla room spray as he stands on his bed.

Bruce: why.

Jason: spiders.

Bruce:

Bruce, quickly shutting the door: oh my god ones hanging from the ceiling above you!

Jason screams and falls with a clatter and thud.

Bruce, chuckling turns into Alfred.

Alfred:

Garth: Would that be Fahrenheit?

Roy: Don't be so fuckin stupid!

Donna: No, the thermometer -

In this alternate universe, Dick fell with the rest of the Flying Graysons. Bruce never had the chance to adopt him, it never even crossed his mind, because it was never even a possibility.

Having a child is something he never knew he was missing. He’s still friendly with Superman and Wonder Woman and he’s in the Justice League, but he’s more closed off. He doesn’t open up as much as he would have if he had a brightly colored little Robin at his side.

So when this terrified and frantic child appears in his cave one night after patrol, he doesn’t really know what to do.

“I have to go back!” Dick shouts at him, and he’s breathing heavily, he’s panicking. “I have to go back, I have to help him!”

“Alright, alright,” Bruce tries to calm him down. “Where did you come from?”

Bruce keeps trying to grab hold of him to keep him still and calm him down, but Dick keeps squirming away.

“I need to go home!” he cries. “Stop! Stop, I need to go home! You’re not my Bruce!”

Bruce freezes, because he’s still in his batsuit. He still has the cowl on. There’s no way this child should know who he is.

It takes a while, but he eventually figures out what’s going on. Once Dick calms down. Once Dick explains that his Bruce sent him away. That his Bruce came back from a mission with the JL, and he was hurt, he was hurt so so badly, and the world around them was crumbling. He wouldn’t let Dick help him. He grabbed a bag and gave it to Dick and sent him away.

This Bruce has no idea what to do. He has a distraught, panicking child in his cave. He can’t send him back to the world he just came from. What is he supposed to do with him?

He brings Dick upstairs to the manor and gives him a room. Well, Dick picks the room. He says it’s his. Bruce doesn’t argue.

Later that night, as he broods in the cave, he receives a transmission from the Bruce who sent Dick here. It’s a video explaining why he picked this universe, why he picked this Bruce. He pleads for him to take care of Dick. To keep him safe. He explains what’s going on in his universe, how it’s not going to survive much longer.

“You’ll love him, I promise you will,” this other Bruce tells him. “He’s the best kid from any universe. He deserves the best. He deserves to live. I know you’ll do right by him.”

And, well, shit. Now he’s gonna have to keep the kid. He just needs to figure out how to go about it from a legal standpoint. He can’t just say the kid appeared in his basement.

Maybe he’ll say Dick is the product of some fling from a decade ago. That’s plausible. That could work.