#rivwrites

  It really wasn’t that big of a deal. You fell down the stairs. It hurt. Something was up with your foot. But it wasn’t the worst pain you ever felt. You’ve been through worse, you were a hunter after all. You probably didn’t even need to go to the hospital. You could’ve handled it yourself.

Rafayel, however, did not see it that way. He scooped you up into his arms, not allowing you to walk. He carried you to the car and was pushing the speed limit as he drove to the ER.

  “Raf, it really isn’t-”

  “No, no, don’t talk, conserve your energy.”

  “Dude.”

  “I said don’t talk!”

You gave up at this point. You couldn’t completely tell if he was messing with you or not by purposefully being overdramatic. 

  Once you got to the ER, you attempted to walk to the doors yourself, but Rafayel wasn’t having it.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked as you opened your door and started to get out.

  “Uh, going inside?”

  “Not by yourself! I can carry you, don’t move!”

  “Oh God, Rafayel, please-”

  You don’t end up getting your way. He lets you get out of the car by yourself, but he once again picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the waiting room. A part of you wanted to curl up and die when the person at the front desk was staring at Rafayel with confusion. 

  “Just humor him. He’s dramatic.” Rafayel shook his head.

  “I’m just going to blame that on you being delirious.”

  “Alright, alright, we’ll take them back, get them checked out, okay?” The front desk lady said. You glanced around the waiting room, glad to see there wasn’t really anyone in here. Definitely for the best. That meant you could get out of here quickly, and Rafayel won’t turn it into a bigger thing than it already is. 

  Rafayel pouted throughout the wait as he sat next to you, not liking that you weren’t being looked at.

  “Should’ve patched you up myself, these people aren’t doing anything.”

  “You probably could’ve.”

  “This is called being safe. Not that you would know anything about that, you Hunter.”

  “Hey! I’m always safe!” You had to be truthful. “And when I’m not, Xavier is right there.”

  “Yes, yes, I know, two of my partners do a dangerously stupid job on a day-to-day basis, and another one runs a fucking crime syndicate while the other is doing stupid tricks in the sky, don’t remind me that I have only one boyfriend who I can be sure is safe at all times. Idiots, I shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

  “Are you going to sulk this whole time?”

  “Yes, yes, I will.”

  You were prepared to complain more, but suddenly, the hospital doors are flying open. In rushes your other four boyfriends, frantic looks on their faces. Zayne walks right up to the front desk, saying your name and asking where you were. The lady looks confused and then points to where you and Rafayel are sitting.

  When the four look over to you, you see the way their eyes scan you to figure out what’s wrong. Caleb is already running over, next to you in a second. He kneels next to you, a hand delicately placed on your knee.

  “What are you doing out here? Are they seriously making you wait? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt? Are you losing any blood?”

  You stared with wide, confused eyes at the four. Even Sylus had worry on his face, though he was doing the best to hide it as he stood a few feet behind Caleb, arms crossed and still scanning you over. Xavier was sitting down in the seat next to you, his hand placed on your shoulder. Zayne is still talking to the front desk lady. 

  You see a realization hit his face in real time as he turns around, his gaze now directed to Rafayel instead of you.

  You take in the worry of the four. The way they rushed in. The way they looked over you for injuries. 

  Your head slowly turned to Rafayel. He’d been looking at you, but once you looked at him, he looked straight ahead, only to look to the other side as Zayne walked over.

  “Raf… What did you tell them?”

  The other three paused their frantic searching of you, looking to their overly-dramatic boyfriend as they remembered he was, in fact, overly-dramatic. 

  Caleb stood up, turning to Rafayel.

  “...You said you were rushing them to the hospital and had to carry them to the car.”

  “...I did do that.”

Zayne walked over, standing next to Sylus.

  “Did that need to happen?”

  “N-” You started to answer, but Rafayel wasn’t having it. It wasn’t just a matter of being dramatic anymore, now he had to defend himself.

  “Yes! They were hurt, they could’ve died!”

  “I twisted my ankle, Rafayel, it isn’t even broken!”

  Sylus sighed, crossing his arms and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “I was in a business deal that was worth over 20 million dollars.” 

  “I was about to go out on a mission,” Xavier said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair.

  You chuckled, smiling at the two.

  “I appreciate all of you, thank you for coming even if it wasn’t for anything.”

  Caleb sighed.

  “No worries, Pipsqueak, we’d drop anything for you without hesitation.”

  “Even if it’s just Rafayel being overdramatic.”

  “They. Could. Have. DIED!”

dick:

"absolutely the fuck not." you grit out, hands on the living room wall.

"jesus christ." dick mutters, growing frustrated with the amount on tiny buttons on your dress. nevertheless, he presses a kiss to the newly exposed skin on your back.

"we can ask--"

"nope, i can do this." dick cuts you off. "i'm your husband. and i am--" he cuts himself off with another grunt of frustration. "fucking hell. are you sure i can't cut it?"'

"yes, dick."

finally, dick manages to open enough buttons that you can squeeze the dress over your hips and step out. he wolf whistles at you, and you blush, knowing that your messed up hair and makeup must be a sight to behold.

he takes your hand and steps closer, you meet him halfway, kissing him for the twelfth time as husband and wife. he pulls away with a grin. "you want to help me undress?"

"yes, please." you smile, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders, unbuttoning his vest and the button-up underneath. you kiss him again, opening his pants and shoving him down. you then step out of your crinoline, unbuckling your shoes and taking off your underwear.

you smirk. "last to the bedroom has to give head first." you take off running.

dick, in his undressed surprised, yanks off his shoes and pants, dashing after you. by the time he gets the bedroom, you're already laying on the bed on your stomach, rummaging around the nightstand for the toys you want to use. he grips your ankles, pulling you down to him. "guess i lost." he smirks.

you yelp, rolling over to face him with a giggle. "i want to cash in my prize immediately." he nods and kisses you with a smile, hands kneading your breasts. he works his way down your jaw and your neck, occasionally sucking hard enough to bruise. one of your hands rubs his back, the other in his hair, tugging at the scalp. he moves down your body, mouth enclosing around your nipple, suckling gently, your head tips back into a moan.

"mrs. grayson," he murmurs against the skin and you're so in love with the way that his voice sounds right now you wish to bottle it.

"yes, mr. grayson?" you reply as he kisses down your stomach.

"i love you." his hands separate your thighs, staring lovingly at your cunt like a man staring at water droplets after crossing the desert.

"i love you." you reply, your hands carding through his hair. he starts to hum, lips pressed against your clit, and you feel the vibrations echo throughout your body. he sets to his task eagerly, tongue on your clit, fingers circling your entrance. he sucks and licks, one finger sliding in and then two, curling them just so. you moan, hips bucking into his minstrations before his spare hands pushes you back against the bed.

your breathing becomes ragged, hands tugging at his hair. when your orgasm crashes over you, dick pulls his mouth away—wanting to watch you cum—keeping his fingers slowing to work your through the aftershocks, his other hand spanning your lower stomach, adding a little pressure that makes you see stars. you writhe as much as you can with your husband holding you down, moaning his name. slowly, he retreats his finger and you whine at the lost, pussy clenching around air.

he licks his fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste. you watch as he leans forward, his hands resting on either side of your head, kissing you so you can taste yourself. you moan into the kiss, hands in his hair, keeping him close. he slowly pulls away but you drag him back down with need. “dickie,” you hum, pleased and complacent in his arms.

“right here, baby, im not gonna anywhere.”

jason:

your breath hitches when you feel jay press his body against yours. you’re still in your wedding dress, he’s still his suit, but the blistering heat radiating from him is felt through all of your layers of clothing. your head leans back, hitting his chest, your hips push back against his. he groans in your ears, his grip on your hips tightening as his cock rubs against your ass.

“jesus, jay,” you chew on your lower lip. you two had just walked into your apartment when your husband had pounced on you.

he unzips your dress, hands feeling around your waist before going north, tugging down your strapless bra. one hand fiddles with your nipple, the other sliding down, cupping your clothed cunt. you moan, pressing yourself harder against him.

jay presses you forward, waking you into the kitchen and you lean against the table for support. he thrusts once, the clear outline of his cock felt despite your frills and lace. you moan his name as one of his fingers presses against your clothed clit. it’s not a direct contact, but the promise of something more makes you pant. he dry humps you, not letting you even out of your dress before he is in your panties, finally giving some sweet relief to your clit. “good wife. soaked for me. gonna ruin these fucking clothes.”

you moan at his words, how relentlessly he wants you. you lean back against him, pushing back your hips, meeting his thrusts.

“fucking hell, thought about this all fucking day.” he swears, pressing kissing to your shoulder.

“wanting to claim me as your wife?”

“fuck yes, you’ve always been mine.” jason sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

you moan out “you’re mine” as he sends you over the edge, your orgasm making you weak in the knees.

jay props you up, thrusting, using your body for his own release. quickly, his thrust lose this pace and becomes erratic, he moans your name, kissing the placer where he bit you as he comes.

you two stand there for a moment, breathing as you both come down from your high. slowly jason retreats his hands and you whine at the loss of contact. “jay—fuck the gifts are still in the car.”

bruce:

he can’t take his eyes off of you. when you strolled in wearing his t-shirt, the rest of the world became background noise. you meet this gaze, arms stretched over your head, tying your hair into a ponytail. his eyes follow the line of the shirt, because now with your arms up, he can see the wide expanse of your hips and your clothed cunt.

your hands fall to your sides, tugging the shirt back into place. bruce’s eyes snag back to yours. you smile at his blush but proceed to walk around him. you open up the cabinet, getting on your tiptoes to reach a bowl on the top shelf. back bowed, ass out—you know exactly what you’re doing. you pretend to struggle for a moment, and bruce watches, gaze darkening. “baby, can you help me?” you ask, unable to get it.

bruce is behind you in a instant, his presence pressing you into the counter further as he easily reaches out and the gets the bowl you need. he places it in the counter, both hands on either side of you, but his chest is against your back, his breath on your ear, your ass nestled on the front of his pants.

"if you want me to stop...now would be a good time." bruce pants.

wordlessly, you push back your ass, grinding against him.

"i'll take that as your consent." bruce shoves you down against the counter, pulling down your panties and having his wicked way with you.

jason:

he’s on the couch, watching some movie when you scroll in, fresh from your shower. you had picked out a comfy shirt from his dresser, loving the way it just enveloped you, hitting close to mid thigh. jay’s engrossed on the screen, but you sit beside him, putting your feet on his lap, and he picks up one and starts massaging it. foot massages started with you first got together, before you starting sleeping together, as a way to show his affection for you. his rough hands are gentle and so good at their job. you hold back a moan, his hands feel up your smooth legs, and you hum appreciably, your head resting on his shoulder.

he looks at you, planting a kiss to your damp hair, noting your attire. “you should wear my shit more often” he says, his hands continuing this work. he does love you in his clothes, wrapped up in his scent and protection.

you nod, “just picture me with that red helmet of yours on.”

he laughs, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, pulling you into another kiss—while the other wraps around your back, trapping you into his embrace. continuing the kiss, you lean forward, sliding into his lap, readjusting your legs to straddle him. you run his hands down his chest, running a fingertip under the waistband of his boxers.

jason breaks the kiss. "hold on there, girlie. are you ready for me?"

you nod, chewing on your lip. you moan when jay pushes aside your panties, a finger tip grazing your clit. his spare hand pushes up your his shirt, gripping your hip, as his finger slides down, finding your entrance damp and welcoming. "alrighty then." jay kisses you again.

dick:

when you walk past him, hair a mess from sleep, he stops mid sip of coffee to stare at you. you don’t notice the heat in his eyes, asking about the keurig.

“mmm yeah, it’s ready for another cup.” dick’s response is late, watching you move while half asleep is doing unspeakable things to him. you turn away from him, reaching up and grabbing a mug from the cabinet. his shirt is big, but it still doesn’t cover your ass with your arms up. dick wolf whistles and, startled, you turn back to him quick, arms down, blushing. “nuh uh, honey. do a spin for me.”

sheepishly, you obey, walking over to him with the coffee mug in your hands. he takes your hand and kisses it. “you look marvelous.”

“dick, i just woke up.” you blush

“that doesn’t matter. my clothes are a good look for on you.” he kisses up your arm.

jason:

after getting home from your indie bookstore, you find jason sprawled on the couch, boots on the floor, paperback in hand.

"can i join you?" you approach and quietly ask.

he opens his arms to you and you smile. you lay down on top of his body, head tucked under his chin, hands on his sides, your leg falling in between his. he kisses the top of your head, his book resting on your back. he updates you on what's happened before quietly reading to himself, turning the pages slowly, savoring the moment with you.

you two lay like this for a few moments, silently taking in each other's presence. jason reads aloud the occasional passage, but the only other sounds are you two breathing. you rise and fall with his breath, one of your hands come to rest on his heart, feeling it beat. since coming back, his heartbeat hadn't sounded the same, but neither of you say that aloud. you could cry thinking about everything jay's been through to get to here, to get to this beat of peace but you don't want to ruin the serene embedded within the chaos.

bruce loves having his hair pulled—you discovered it accidentally when taking the cowl off one night—his love language is touch regardless so you were always physically affectionate with him when getting railed. he needs you on your back so you can touch him, tug on his scalp and scratch your nails down his back. b tried doggy style once and quit halfway through because you couldn’t touch him.

bruce loves when you visit him in the batcave, all kisses and cock warming. his gaze is forward, looking at his case files, groaning as you clench your pussy around him. you plant kisses to his jaws, focusing on your breath. his hand on your back, keeping you close to him.

bruce is in love with your smell. he sniffs your hair when standing behind you, inhaling your pussy through your panties, pressing his lips to where you applied your perfume to your collarbone. he runs his hand up and down your body, getting hard just from the way you smell.

jason is a munch, you walked past in those little lounge shorts that cover nothing and let him see the outline of your pussy, his hands are on you in a minute, pulling you against him. you’re breathless, hopelessly grinding back against him as he dips his hand in your panties.

jason is a possessive mfer, he will stare down anyone who looks at you. he walks behind you in the store, a large hand on your back. one time a guy tried flirting with you when he walked off for one second—thankfully the dude didn’t touch you or else he would have he wouldn’t have hands anymore!—and he pulled the car over and laid claim to you right then and there, reminding you exactly to whom you belong to.

jason loves painting nails. rather, he likes you painting this, he thinks it softens his demeanor and makes him more approachable. but he loves painting yours, he loves picking out the color you wrap around his cock as soon as they’ve dried. he loves imaging the fresh nails pumping him, painting white ropes on your tongue. he loves when your fist takes what your mouth can’t, pumping him until he’s dry.

dick keeps eye contact when he eats you out, his tongue praising your pussy in circles and swirls. he pulls away when your head falls back against the bed. “nuh-uh baby, eyes on me.” then you raise your head and he rewards you by sucking your clit in his mouth, fingers tracing your entrance. “that’s my good girl. you know what to do.”

dick is an aftercare king. it scares you the difference between dick railing you through double digits worth of o’s and then gently washing you clean and applying cooling pads to your nipples, rubbing lotion into your limbs. you marvel at him, loving the softness in his eyes. you kiss him sweetly, breaking away with a smile.

jason

this anti-hero would have set up a wine and paint night, a speical date night in that you have been wanting for a while. he gets you wine drunk forty minutes in, you almost drink paint water. he stops you removing the cup from your hands, “alright, princess, time to cut you off.”

you shake your head. “i’m perfectly sober.”

“spell perfect.” he challenges.

“p-e-r-f-f..." you pause to think, "-i-c-t.”

“good try, princess. let’s you to bed.” he takes off his own and your apron.

“i want comfy pjs. and dry humping.” you demand, turning on your stool to face him.

“for sure, baby doll.” he says with a chuckle, placating you. “can you walk?”

you attempt to stand, head swimming, your knees give out.

jason catches you when you stumble. “alright, ma. i got you.” he puts your arms around your neck and scoops you into his arms.

“weeeee” you giggle, kissing his cheek. “my strong blue jay.”

he smiles, walking you back to the bedroom. he puts you down on the bed. you lift up both arms as he walks over to the dresser, pulling out one of his t-shirts for you. “jayyyy.” you grumble, thinking that he is taking too long.

“m coming, doll.” jay turns back to you, walking over. he lifts your top over your head, replacing it with his shirt.

“yay.” you smile, laying down on your back. jay tugs at your sweatpants, pulling them down. “are you trying to seduce me, angel?”

“no, baby doll.” jay huffs. “you’re gonna overheat wearing these and i don't feel like you walking me up in the middle of the night because you're hot and can't take your pants off."

"sounds kinky."

he shakes his head. "not happening when you're this drunk."

you whine in protest, jason ignores it. "lift your hips for me, ma.”

you obey, propping yourself up on your elbows. “i like when you call me ma. it's sexy.”

“i know, that’s why i keep on doing it, ma.” he puts your sweatpants and top in the laundry basket before stripping out of his old jeans and faded t-shirt. you attempt to wolf whistle, but it comes out a weak single note before you laugh.

“i’ll be right back.” he leaves, returning with some pill and a glass of water. you deny the pill, gulping down the water.

“can you help brush my teeth, blue jay?” you ask sweetly and so jay gives you a piggy back ride to the bathroom, assisting you with putting the toothpaste onto the bamboo toothbrush. once you’ve spit into the sink. you rinse your face with water and he carries you back to bed.

you lay down on your side, jason crawling around you to wrap his arm around from behind. you press your ass against his body, humming with delight when he holds you away from his body. “not tonight, ma. go to sleep."