#starfire/reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urdreamydoodles · 6 months ago

Text

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

After a short festive break, I'm back in force with my headcanons. My (hyper) brain has been obsessed with DC lately, so get ready for some DC headcanons with new characters I've never done before. I missed you all, love, Marie.

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- You didn’t mean to do it. Well, that’s a lie. You absolutely meant to do it. The way Bruce’s broad, suited figure strode past you in the Batcave was simply too tempting. There he was, the epitome of brooding composure, running a hand through his dark hair as he mulled over crime scene reports. Without much thought, your hand acted on instinct. Smack. The sound echoed through the cavern like a gunshot. Bruce stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head, an arched eyebrow lifting to meet his ever-present scowl. "Really?" he asked, voice calm but laced with that unmistakable Wayne edge.

- His reaction wasn’t anger, though you could see the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. You, the only one in Gotham—or perhaps the world—who could dare to breach his stoicism with something so mundane as a playful swat. You crossed your arms, feigning innocence, though your smirk betrayed you. “What? Just testing your reflexes, Mr. Wayne.” He took a slow step toward you, his shadow sprawling like a cloak. “I thought you’d want to keep that hand intact,” he murmured, but there was warmth in his voice that belied the threat.

- Bruce never let much show, but you knew the man beneath the cowl better than anyone. As much as he loved his mission, as much as he carried Gotham on his weary shoulders, he loved you more. There was no hiding the way his stern exterior softened around you, how his dark eyes gleamed with affection when he thought you weren’t looking. And now, despite his unflinching persona, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in the way he lingered near, uncertain if he should let himself laugh.

- “Next time,” he finally said, his voice low, “make sure Alfred isn’t around to hear it.” His lips quirked into the barest smile before he turned back to the Batcomputer. Yet, as he walked away, you could swear he slowed his stride, almost as if daring you to do it again. You didn’t, of course. Not then. But the idea of Gotham’s Dark Knight flustered by a simple smack was too delicious to forget. And Bruce knew it.

Clark Kent (Kal-El) aka. Superman

- Clark didn’t see it coming. How could he, when he was too busy carrying three bags of groceries in each hand and balancing a box of pastries in the crook of his elbow? You watched him shuffle toward the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his wholesome, Midwestern charm radiating even in the simplest acts. As he passed, you couldn’t resist. Smack. The clap of your hand against his ridiculously perfect backside made him jump slightly, the pastries nearly tumbling from his grip. “Hey!” he exclaimed, spinning around, cheeks flushed pink.

- For someone faster than a speeding bullet, Clark sure could get caught off guard by you. His face was an endearing mix of surprise and bashfulness, and you swore the man looked like he’d just been scolded by Ma Kent herself. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine confusion but also a hint of laughter. You shrugged, batting your lashes. “Couldn’t resist. You’re carrying so much cake, after all.” He groaned at the pun but couldn’t keep from smiling.

- Clark, despite his extraordinary origins, was at his core a simple man. A man who loved sharing quiet evenings with you, cooking together, and pretending the world didn’t need him for a little while. He was also devastatingly kind, a trait that extended to how he loved you—with full-hearted sincerity and no room for doubt. So when he looked at you now, shaking his head with a chuckle, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

- “You’re unbelievable,” he said, placing the pastries safely on the counter. Then, faster than you could blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with that impossible strength. “But if you’re going to tease, you’d better be prepared to deal with the consequences.” His grin was all boyish mischief as he tickled your sides, your laughter ringing through the kitchen. You swore he let you win when you finally broke free. Clark Kent, the strongest man alive, completely at your mercy.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry didn’t even stop moving. You were sure he noticed, though, because as you walked past him in the hallway and your hand made contact with his backside, he nearly tripped over his own feet. For the Flash, that was saying something. ��Did you just—” he started, spinning to face you. His words were drowned out by your laughter as he stood there, red-faced and wide-eyed, his usual chatter momentarily short-circuited.

- “What?” you asked innocently, though your grin betrayed you. Barry spluttered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I wasn’t expecting that!” he managed, his voice pitching higher than usual. You loved how easy it was to fluster him, even though he was one of the smartest, fastest people in the world. “You’ve got to work on your reaction time, hero,” you teased, winking as you sauntered away.

- Barry’s mind was racing, as it always did, but now it wasn’t just thoughts of his latest case or some quantum theory experiment. No, now it was you—how you could so effortlessly knock him off balance with a single playful act. He adored you for it, for the way you brought lightness and humor into his often chaotic, exhausting life. You were his anchor, his calm in the storm of velocity and danger.

- Later, when he zipped into the living room with snacks for your movie night, he couldn’t resist a little payback. As he placed the bowl of popcorn on the table, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “Tag,” he whispered, and before you could respond, he darted away, leaving a gentle swat on your hip in his wake. Your laughter followed him, echoing in the space he’d just vacated. Barry might be the fastest man alive, but you were the one who always left him breathless.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- You didn’t think it was possible to catch Diana off guard. The Amazon princess was grace and power personified, her every movement deliberate, her every action precise. But when you passed her in the sunlit garden and gave her a cheeky smack, she stopped mid-step. Her head turned slowly, her azure eyes narrowing as her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Did you just strike a warrior?” she asked, her voice a blend of amusement and mock reprimand.

- “A warrior with impeccable form,” you shot back, bold as ever. Diana’s laughter rang out, melodic and warm, her posture relaxing as she faced you fully. “You’re fortunate I consider this an act of affection,” she teased, stepping closer. The sunlight caught her dark hair, casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She was intimidating and beautiful, a goddess among mortals, yet in this moment, she was utterly human—and yours.

- Diana loved how unafraid you were of her strength, her presence. So many treated her like a distant, untouchable figure, but you reminded her that she was more than her titles or her mission. You made her laugh, you challenged her, and you weren’t afraid to be playful with her—even when it came to something as bold as this. She admired your spirit, your fire, the way you met her gaze without hesitation.

- “You realize,” she said, her tone mock-serious as she closed the gap between you, “that this is an invitation for retaliation.” Before you could react, her arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Her laughter joined yours as she spun you once before setting you back down. “Careful, my love,” she warned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “A warrior never forgets.” But the smile on her lips promised she’d never stop loving your daring nature.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- You should have known better than to smack Arthur Curry as he walked past, the salty scent of the sea clinging to him like a second skin. The man was built like a fortress, with muscles that rippled beneath his tank top and a stride that exuded the confidence of a king. As your hand connected with his backside, the smack echoed through the cozy beach house you shared. Arthur stopped mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned his head, a grin spreading across his rugged, sun-kissed face. “You sure you want to start this game, love?”

- He set down the fishing net he’d been carrying, his piercing green eyes narrowing playfully as he took a deliberate step toward you. You couldn’t help but laugh, holding your ground even as he loomed closer, his smirk promising trouble. “I couldn’t resist,” you said, your voice light. “It’s not every day a queen gets to remind her king who’s really in charge.” Arthur barked out a laugh, the sound deep and rich like the ocean waves outside. “Oh, is that so?” he rumbled, his hands finding his hips.

- Arthur loved your boldness, the way you matched his fiery spirit without hesitation. You were one of the few people who could keep up with him—whether it was challenging his quick temper, teasing his authority, or standing beside him when the burdens of two worlds weighed heavily on his shoulders. You weren’t afraid of his strength, his power, or the scars that told the story of his battles. Instead, you met him head-on, reminding him of the joy and levity he often forgot.

- “Alright,” he said finally, leaning down until his face was inches from yours, his grin widening. “But just remember—you started it.” Before you could react, his large hand swatted your hip, the playful strike making you gasp and laugh at the same time. “That’s for round one,” he teased, straightening as he headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if you’ve got the guts for round two.” You watched him go, shaking your head. King of the seas? More like king of cheeky comebacks.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- You didn’t even plan it. Hal Jordan had been walking past, cocky as ever in his flight jacket, tossing his keys onto the counter with that easy swagger that made your heart race and your patience thin in equal measure. Before you knew it, your hand moved of its own accord. Smack. The sound was sharp, and Hal froze, mid-step, his head snapping toward you. For a moment, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, finally, he broke into a grin. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

- Hal was never one to back down from a challenge, and you knew that all too well. “Careful,” he warned, his green eyes sparkling as he took a slow step toward you. “You’re playing with fire here, gorgeous.” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, please. If you’re so tough, you should be able to handle a little pat on the back. Or… elsewhere.” His laughter was immediate, loud and free, filling the room like music. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

- That was what Hal adored about you. He’d spent so much of his life surrounded by danger and responsibility—whether it was saving the universe as Green Lantern or pulling insane aerial stunts as a test pilot. But you? You were his gravity, his reminder that life wasn’t all about proving himself. You made him laugh in a way no one else could, and even when you pushed his buttons, he couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with you each time.

- “Alright,” he said, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch. “You wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty.” Before you could react, Hal’s ring glowed, and a green construct of a feather appeared in his hand. “Let’s see how tough you are when the tables turn.” You squealed, darting behind the couch as he followed, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Hal Jordan might be fearless, but you knew his real weakness—your laugh, your smile, your ability to keep him on his toes.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen barely flinched when your hand smacked his backside as he walked past the kitchen counter, a bow slung over his shoulder. Instead, he stopped, cocking his head to the side with a slow smirk spreading across his handsome, scruffy face. “Well, that’s one way to get my attention,” he drawled, turning to face you. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could already tell he was plotting some form of retaliation. “Should I be worried, or was that just your way of saying ‘good shot’?”

- “You’ve been spending too much time in the field,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “Thought I’d remind you who really has the aim around here.” Oliver laughed, the sound warm and rich as he set his bow down carefully. “Oh, really? You think you can out-shoot me and out-smart me in my own house?” His tone was playful, but you knew the archer in him couldn’t resist a challenge.

- Oliver loved that about you—your boldness, your fire, the way you never let him take himself too seriously. It was a rare gift to be able to break through the walls he built around himself, the layers of guilt and responsibility he carried as Star City’s protector. But you didn’t just break through; you tore those walls down with humor, love, and a fearlessness that matched his own. You reminded him of the man beneath the hood, the one who still knew how to laugh and love.

- “Alright,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you in place. “But just so we’re clear—if this is your idea of flirting, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you deeply, stealing your breath and your smugness all at once. When he pulled back, his grin was pure Oliver Queen. “Your move, pretty bird.”

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- When your hand smacked John Constantine’s backside, his reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, throaty chuckle that promised trouble. He turned to face you, cigarette dangling from his lips, his trench coat swirling slightly with the motion. “Well, well, love,” he drawled, his voice tinged with that unmistakable cockney accent. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Careful now—you’re playing with fire.”

- “Oh, please,” you shot back, smirking. “You deal with demons, curses, and apocalyptic prophecies daily. You can handle a little slap.” His grin widened, and he took a step closer, the scent of tobacco and leather surrounding you. “You’ve got some cheek, you know that?” he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ash into the tray. “But that’s why I keep you around. Keeps me on my toes.”

- John wasn’t used to this—lightness, laughter, love. His life was a whirlwind of darkness and chaos, and yet, somehow, you had wormed your way into his blackened heart. You brought him peace in a way no spell or sigil ever could. And while he’d never admit it outright, he adored the way you challenged him, kept him grounded, and gave him something to fight for beyond his own self-loathing.

- “But fair warning, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that sent shivers down your spine, “I don’t play fair.” Before you could react, he whispered a quick spell under his breath, and suddenly, your shoes were glued to the floor. “There,” he said with a wink, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Let’s see if you’re still so bold when you can’t run away.” Your laughter filled the room as he walked off, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Classic Constantine—always one step ahead, but always hopelessly smitten with you.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- You really couldn’t resist. Roy Harper had been strutting around the apartment like he owned the place, shirtless, a bow slung across his back, humming some old rock tune under his breath. His cocky energy was palpable, and when he passed by you in the living room, it was instinctive. Smack. Your hand connected with his jean-clad backside, and the sound was sharp enough to cut through his off-key singing. Roy froze, turning slowly with a look of mock betrayal. “Did you just…? Oh, you’re really asking for it now, gorgeous.”

- You leaned back against the couch, smirking. “What? Just checking if Arsenal’s reflexes are still sharp.” Roy placed a hand on his hip, pointing at you with the other. “You’re lucky I didn’t just shoot an arrow in surprise,” he teased, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he was anything but annoyed. “But fine. If we’re doing this, let me warn you—I don’t fight fair.”

- Roy loved that you didn’t take him too seriously. In a life full of chaos, mistakes, and battles, you were his sanctuary, the one person who could knock him off his pedestal in the best way. Your playful antics reminded him that not everything had to be about proving himself or fighting the next big battle. You were his partner in every sense of the word—his laughter, his balance, his home.

- “Alright, beautiful,” he said, dropping the bow and cracking his knuckles. “You know what happens when you mess with me, right?” Before you could react, he pounced, pinning you to the couch in an exaggerated wrestling move that had both of you laughing uncontrollably. “This is justice!” he declared dramatically, tickling your sides until you were begging for mercy. Roy Harper was impossible, but then again, so were you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- The reaction was immediate. As your hand connected with Koriand’r’s backside while she passed you in the hallway, she stopped mid-step, her fiery hair glowing faintly as it caught the light. Slowly, she turned to face you, her wide green eyes blinking in confusion. “Was that… an Earth custom of affection?” she asked, her tone curious but tinged with amusement. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, her innocent confusion melting any attempt at feigned innocence. “Sure, Kori. It’s totally a custom. Very common.”

- Kori tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her beautiful features. “How interesting,” she said, stepping closer to you. “On Tamaran, we express affection with embraces, kisses, and occasionally by flying into the air with loved ones. But this… this is new. I like it!” Her radiant smile made your heart flutter, and you could see the mischief spark in her gaze. “Does this mean I can do it back?”

- You adored how open and loving Kori was. She embraced life with the same passion she brought to battle, and her joy was contagious. Loving her meant constantly learning to see the world through her eyes, where every experience—big or small—was worth celebrating. You could never get enough of the way she made even the smallest moments feel like an adventure.

- “You may want to prepare yourself!” she declared suddenly, her arms wrapping around you in a warm, powerful embrace. Before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly off the ground, spinning you in circles as laughter bubbled out of both of you. When she finally set you down, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a playful tap on your backside. “This is a wonderful custom!” she declared with a bright giggle. You’d created a monster, and you couldn’t have been happier about it.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn she was carrying when your hand smacked her backside. Nearly. Her Kryptonian reflexes kicked in, and she saved the snack, spinning around with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. “Did you just…?!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. You leaned casually against the counter, biting back a grin. “What? Just making sure Earth’s strongest woman doesn’t have any blind spots.”

- “Blind spots?!” Kara exclaimed, placing the bowl down with exaggerated care. “You’re lucky I don’t fly you straight into the stratosphere for that.” But the way she crossed her arms and pouted made it clear she wasn’t actually upset. If anything, she was flustered—adorably so. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

- Kara loved how comfortable you were around her. So many people treated her like a symbol or a savior, but you just treated her like Kara. You teased her, laughed with her, and never let her powers overshadow the fact that she was just a girl trying to navigate life on a new planet. Being with you grounded her, reminded her that even superheroes deserved to let their guard down and have fun.

- “Fine,” she said finally, her lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “But don’t think I won’t get you back.” Before you could respond, she darted forward at super-speed, giving your side a playful nudge that sent you stumbling into the couch. She was back in her original spot before you could blink, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on her face. “Kryptonians don’t lose, you know,” she teased, her laughter filling the room.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to do it. Slade Wilson wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, but as he passed you in the training room, his armor catching the dim light, the temptation was too strong. Your hand smacked his backside, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet space. He stopped immediately, his head turning just enough for his single visible eye to lock onto you. The sharp, dangerous glint in his gaze made your heart race. “You’re braver than I thought,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

- “And you’re slower than I thought,” you shot back, unable to resist. His brow arched, and you could see the corner of his mouth twitch—was that amusement? “Careful,” he warned, stepping closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. “You might find out just how fast I can be.” Despite his intimidating presence, you refused to back down, crossing your arms and smirking up at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

- Slade had always admired your boldness. In a world where most people either feared him or tried to use him, you were a refreshing change. You didn’t treat him like a weapon or a monster—you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who carried the weight of too many sins. Your audacity, your fire, reminded him of the parts of himself he thought he’d buried long ago.

- “Alright,” he said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “But don’t forget—every action has a consequence.” Before you could respond, his hand darted out, delivering a sharp but playful swat to your hip. You gasped, more in surprise than pain, and he straightened, his smirk now fully formed. “Your move,” he said, turning and walking away with the measured confidence of a man who always had the upper hand. And yet, you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For all his gruffness, Slade Wilson was undeniably charmed by you.

2K notes · View notes

cherryyluvs · 3 months ago

Note

Hi just first wanted to say I love ur writing, it's so nice to read as if am really seeing it physically. Anyways I wanted to ask if you could write a starfire type reader where she first meets mark and how their relationship grows . Exploring his friends and parents reaction to her power , tamaranean background and personality. I know damn well cecil will be exhausted finding out there's another alien race with so much power . thank you again for ur work in the invincible fandom cause there's so few amazing writers. 😘😘

Ahhh thank you so much!! 🥹💖 That means the world to me!! I LOVE the idea of a Starfire-type reader I don’t know much of her but I tried my best (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) hope you enjoy!!

Mark first meets you under a.. Chaotic circumstance. An alien attack and he is already in mid-fight when you swoop in. Blasting through enemies, striking, and flipping with this effortless grace. Mark is immediately like Σ(°□°˶) !! So powerful, he can't take his eyes off of you. He's already impressed but also slightly intimidated. “Uh… who are you?” But you can't understand him yet, titling your head blinking in confusion. “You don't understand me, do you?”

Without hesitation you float towards him, placing your hands gently on his cheek and kissing him. Mark freezes. His eyes widened. You pull back, lips turning into a bright smile. “Ah! Now i understand”

“What just happened?”

“In my homeworld, Tamaran, lip contact is a simple custom to learn any language”

“simple..??” Mark is completely flustered while you're acting like kissing him was the most normal thing in the world.

He starts seeing you around more often, you being curious about Earth. Everything from human customs to food. Mark ends up becoming your unofficial guide. You’re fascinated by Earth’s food, the first time Mark takes you out for burgers, you literally hover out of your seat from excitement. “This is delicious! May I try yours?” and before he could answer you, steal a fry from his tray. Acting like fries are the greatest discovery of your life. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Mark becomes curious about Tamaranean culture and one day you got him to try something from your home plant – Zorkaberries. Presenting them to him proudly, a small bowl of deep purple berries in your hand, Mark would eye them suspiciously. He hesitated for a moment before picking one, and popping it in his mouth. The flavor being bittersweet “Whoa, this is really good?”

“Of course! They are Zorkaberries!!” giggling, floating closer and patting his back “do you wish for more?”

Tamaraneans are naturally affectionate so you're constantly touching mark. Holding his hand, brushing your fingers through his hair, and hugging him from behind. It's second nature to you. The more you two hang out and go on dates the more you start falling in love, he loves how blunt you are and have no problem telling Mark exactly how you feel — even if it flusters him.

When you first met his parents, Debbie and Nolan. You were extremely polite, immediately hugging her and complimenting her home. Offering to help with dinner which she is surprised but pleased by. During dinner time you speak of tales of your planet, your people, how you come from a warrior race and noble family. Nolan, on the other hand, is suspicious of you. He recognizes how powerful you are and the fact that you come from an alien race puts him on edge. His Viltrumite instincts are definitely twitching, wary of you but you remain cheerful and unbothered.

Cecil is immediately rubbing his temples because 2 Viltrumites is already bad enough – now there's Tamaranean on earth? Just what he needed, but deep down he knows you could be an invaluable ally , keeping a close eye on you to ensure you're not up to something.

As for mark friends ? William thinks you're super cool, saved him from a villain once and he won't stop yapping about how you carried him bridal style. Amber loves how sweet and down to earth you are, obsessed with helping you pick out earth clothes and doing ‘girl stuff’ together. Eve is immediately fascinated by you, she recognizes your power level and asks you about your planet and your culture. “So you guys can fly and absorb sunlight? That's insane”

“It is quite convenient!”

Bonus:

Afterward, Mark’s brain is still trying to catch up. Mark (to himself): “She’s a literal princess. And she kissed me. To learn my language. Okay.” (꜆꜄ᴗ͈﹏ᴗ͈)꜆꜄꜆

#invincible #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson #fluff #invincible season 3 #reader #starfire reader #need more of mark grayson

1K notes · View notes

acid-ixx · 8 months ago

Note

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

2K notes · View notes

bananasplit133 · 3 months ago

Text

BETROTHED?!?

Invincible | Mark Grayson x Tamaranean(Starfire)!Reader

----

(this is kinda rushed, sorry if some things dont match with Tamaranean culture.. i havent watched TT in FOREVER)

-----

Mark had seen a lot of weird things since becoming Invincible. But nothing—nothing—compared to stepping foot on your home planet.

Tamaranean architecture stretched high into the sky, golden spires glowing against the twin suns. The air buzzed with energy, vibrant and warm, as ships zipped past. But what really threw him off was the people.

They didn’t just fly. They soared. They moved through the sky like it was second nature, spinning and twirling mid-air like it was a casual stroll. Bright laughter filled the air as children zipped past, their hands glowing with neon fire.

Mark swallowed. “Uh. You didn’t tell me everyone here was like you.”

You grinned. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I just… I thought you were special.”

You nudged his arm playfully. “I am special.”

Before he could respond, a voice boomed across the palace courtyard.

“You return at last, sister.”

Mark barely had time to react before a tall, striking woman dropped from the sky with all the elegance of a hawk locking onto prey. Her black hair spilled down her back, and her armor gleamed in the sunlight.

His stomach twisted. Oh. This was your sister.

“Komand’r,” you greeted stiffly.

Her glowing eyes flicked to Mark, sharp and calculating. “And who is this? Another Earthling?”

Mark bristled. “Another?”

Your sister smirked. “I assumed my dear sibling would have learned her lesson after the last one.”

Oh. That stung.

Mark shot you a look, but you were glaring at your sister. The tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a blade.

“I see your attitude remains as unbearable as ever,” you muttered.

“And I see your taste in men remains questionable.”

Mark scoffed. “You got something to say?”

Komand’r leaned in, smirking. “Only that you are… soft.”

Mark’s eye twitched. Soft? The last time someone called him soft, he ended up half-dead in space.

You groaned. “Komand’r, please, let’s not do this—”

A loud, wet squelching noise cut through the tension.

Mark turned—only to see a massive, green, multi-eyed blob squirming forward, its trunk-like appendages wiggling with purpose. Its body jiggled slightly as it stopped before you, making a series of deep, guttural gurgles.

Mark stared. Horrified.

“…What the hell is that?”

Your face paled. “Oh. Right. That.”

The blob let out another series of noises, its trunks wiggling in what Mark somehow understood as… pride?

Komand’r smirked. “Did she not tell you? She is to be wed. It is the only way to protect our people.”

Mark turned to you, eyes wide with betrayal. “You’re engaged?!”

“I—it’s complicated!” you said quickly. “I didn’t agree to this!”

The blob burbled.

Mark’s eye twitched. “What do you mean you ‘thought I knew’?? I don’t even know what you are!”

It gurgled again.

Mark recoiled. “EXCUSE ME?!”

Komand’r chuckled. “He says he is deeply honored to take you as his mate.”

Mark gagged. Audibly.

The blob let out a low, vibrating sound that Mark somehow understood as laughter.

His stomach flipped. “Oh, HELL no.”

Komand’r smirked. “You would rather risk war?”

Mark clenched his fists. “Over my dead body is she marrying—” he gestured wildly at the blob “—THAT.”

The blob let out a long, warbling moan.

Mark’s jaw dropped. “I did NOT just insult your lineage! What lineage?! You’re a blob!”

The blob squished aggressively in response.

Mark pointed. “SEE?! THAT'S NOT NORMAL.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Mark, please—”

“NO. NO ‘MARK, PLEASE.’” He turned to you, looking betrayed. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

You groaned. “Because I didn’t think it mattered! I never agreed to it!”

Komand’r raised a brow. “You would rather defy our customs?”

Mark snapped.

“She’s not marrying that thing.”

The blob let out a wet, vibrating honk.

Mark whipped around. “Oh, YOU wanna fight me now?!”

More squelching.

Mark’s eye twitched. “Did—did you just call me a ‘puny, hairless primate’??”

The blob wobbled menacingly.

Mark didn't answer.

He just punched it through a wall.

Gasps echoed across the courtyard. Komand’r burst out laughing.

“Oh,” she purred. “I like him.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “By X’hal, this is going to be a long day…”

#ao3 #invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #teen titans #teentitans au #starfire #blackfire #starfire reader #mark grayson #bananasplit133

849 notes · View notes

invincibledc · 2 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡—MY DC OCS REACTION TO YOU SAYING “I LOOK UGLY”⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ JACK QUINN (son of Harley Quinn and joker)

Immediately is towering over you, expression dark.

“Who said that to you? Cause you’re beautiful, you’re handsome , stunning, and—” and it would keep going til he just makes you feel secured. He hates to see his beloved puddin' feelin bad.

Cause if it was someone who said it to your face, they won’t live long enough to say that to anyone else.

⋆˙⟡ KOLE ANDERS (adoptive son of Starfire aka Kory Anders)

Frowns as he looks you up and down , “but you are more attractive than any human I met?”

Bros fully confused on why you said it til you tell him it’s just a joke and now he just nods.

But then later on he goes over to you when you forgot about the whole prank, he then kisses your cheek. Smiling seeing the shock on your face, “you are gorgeous.”

And he just flys off.

⋆˙⟡ DEMETRIUS PRINCE (son of wonderwoman and Steve Trevor)

“Hm?” Looks at you as he was mid bite into a huge sandwich. “Yeah you are pretty ugly.” He says jokingly, not thinking it would affect you til he sees you start to cry.

Drops the sandwich and immediately spews apologies while cupping your face. “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry, you aren’t ugly! You’re the most gorgeous person ever y/n—”

He spoiled you the whole day after the whole incident, Damian blackmails him saying how that you’re his number one weakness as Jon just awes at how Demetrius is more soft with you.

693 notes · View notes

unreasonablerobin · 24 days ago

Text

GOOD MORNING!

DC characters x reader

Synopsis: DC characters as random texts with their partner

(Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Al Ghul, Wally West, Kon El Kent, Koriand'r)

Tags: Fluff ♡, smau

A/N: How do we feel about the new vibe?? Crashed out while changing it yesterday.

#dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne x reader #wally west x reader #flash x reader #kon el kent x reader #superboy x reader #conner kent x reader #starfire x reader #koriand'r x reader #dc smau #fem!reader

983 notes · View notes

eveysnotebook · 2 months ago

Text

dc characters when their lover is very physically affectionate

includes:

jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, hal jordan, barry allen, wally west, roy harper ‘n koriand’r!

jason todd:

he loves it and hates it. at first, he doesn’t know what to do, he has never really received this kind of soft and loving touch before.

it feels nice but also new and scary, he doesn’t know how to act! he kinda gets all shy and flustered for awhile.

after a couple months of being together he gets more adjusts to it, seeking it out even! he finds himself leaning into your warm and welcoming touch.

every hug or brush of hands makes jason smile and blush, even if it’s barely noticeable.

he starts giving back the same loving touches too, soft, caressing touches and warm kisses become normal, every day things now.

he may brush it off or even act annoyed, but he really loves it.

“stop bothering me” he’d say as he leans into you.

he really loves it and is so appreciative and grateful <33

dick grayson:

he’s naturally a very touchy person, giving friends big, warm hugs. but when you give him a hug first? he’s head over heels.

“c’mere! you look like your wanting a hug.”

he lives for every moment you touch him, whether it be brief sand accidentally or longing and lovingly.

he always leans into your warmth, giving back the same loving energy with the cutest smile!

he takes this as a green light to give you even more loving touches, more hugs, kisses and hand holding!

he’ll always find a reason to touch you, and he hopes you do the same.

tim drake:

he acts nonchalant, as if it isn’t that big of a deal, but he really loves it.

it’s not often he’s given warm hugs or soft touches, so it’s something special he has with you!

he finds it hard to give the same touches to you at first, but he slowly warms up to the idea.

he gets flustered whenever you slip your hand into his own.

“This is okay. just don’t distract me.”

hal jordan:

I feel like he’s already big on being physically affectionate, so he’s happy when your the same!

he love love loves when you initiate touches first, makes him feel special and happy!

knows that you are okay with being touched alot, so he randomly gives you big kisses and hugs.

“your just obsessed with me, aren’t you?” He’d tease whenever you have your hands all over him.

barry allen:

a little flustered at first. he isn’t really used to it! he most definitely adores it though and tends to seek it out.

he’ll start brushing his hand across yours as you walk together. as if a silent reminder to take his hand.

loves it when you kiss his cheek randomly. expect a kiss in return!

“uh- what’s this for?” he’d ask the first time you randomly gave him a big, warm hug. he’d hug back, although slightly awkwardly.

he feels safe and at home in your hands <3

wally west:

great! he lives for your attention. he’s confident enough to take your hand in his when he feels like it, but if you touch him first? he’s flattered, happy, over the moon.

he wants you to hold his face, he loves it. feeling the warmth of your hand take over his freckled cheeks.

“aww- baby! someone’s clingy.” he’d say with a smile before hugging you back even tighter. you laugh at his hypocrisy.

roy harper:

I feel at first he would be a it standoffish at first. why are you hugging him as if you’d known eachother for ages? acting as if he’s something special and to be held gently.

he blushes every time you take his face in your hands, especially when he’s taken off guard.

“ ‘m not blush, it’s just warm in here!”

he gets used to it though, and returns the warm touches.

grabbing your hand in a busy street, or seeking you out in his sleep are some simple signs of his adoration for you and your touchiness.

Koriand’r / starfire:

Kori is warm. she is the sun itself. but when your warmth meets hers, she is stunned. a soft touch makes her face break out into a wide smile.

she loves the way you touch her. your hands gliding over her arms, softly holding her hands, settling on her knee. she feels extra warm every time she feels your hands snake around her.

“oh! this..this is nice.” she’d say the first time you wrap her tightly in your arms. when she hugs back, she ever so slightly lifts you off of the ground.

“I could get used to this.” she tells you one night, both of your limbs tangled together.

you will always make her feel loved.

ignore the fact kori’s was the most well written lmao

what can I say I love her 🧡

request open btw!!

656 notes · View notes

cybergoth1 · 6 months ago

Text

— ❛❛beyond the cowl | batfamily x isekaide!reader.❞

synopsis: ❛❛you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.❞.

— ❛❛warnings/tags: nsfw (+18), canon typical violence, mentions of mental illness. angst, the bats being themselves. maybe some smut in the future. you're a batsis. i'm making some changes in the canon timeline. fem!reader.

prologue: haven't had a dream in a long time

chapter 01: woman without fear

chapter 02: some things we don't talk about

get in the mood: I. guess (charli xcx, billie elish), II. crazy (le sserafim), III. midas touch (kiss of life), IV. break the ice (britney spears), V. hands up (6arelyhuman), VI. like me (chase icon), VII. vroom vrom (charli xcx), VIII. gimme more (britney spears).

author's note: that's the masterlist <3 taglist? just let me know!

922 notes · View notes

lady-corrine · 3 months ago

Text

#if you make the mistake to separate them they will turn into those shaking chihuahuas #this is how they regulate their nervous system their heartbeats and breaths are attuned to each other #you separate them and they make a heart attack their brain stops functioning the world explodes #this is in fact what happened - the editorial separared them and they died #we are now reading about their clones in a simulation or smth #this is why the general reaction from the readers is *scratching head*#they separated them and they killed them 😞#on another note I miss them very deeply - them and their clingy pda 🤧😭#dickkory #dickory #robstar #koriand'r #starfire #dick grayson #nightwing

687 notes · View notes

sleepingdiaryzzz · 4 months ago

Note

Can you please write Dick and Kory with a low energy reader?

Sorry if this comes off as rude or demanding, I've never requested before so I'm unsure of how to do this.

ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴛᴡᴏ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ᴀss ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x sᴛᴀʀғɪʀᴇ

Hope y'all like it! 😁❤

ᴍᴏʀᴇ!

The first time Kory sweeps you off your feet—literally, both hands under your arms like a mother scooping up a particularly sluggish cat—you think about telling her to put you down. You don’t. That would take energy, and frankly, you don’t have it. Instead, you let your head tip forward until your forehead rests against her collarbone, warm like she’s been absorbing sunlight all afternoon. She makes a pleased noise, something like a purr, and spins you in a slow, weightless arc before setting you down on the couch.

"You should eat," she says, hovering, hands still on your shoulders like you might collapse sideways without her touch. "Have you eaten today?"

You shrug. "Probably."

"You do not know?" Her eyes go very round. "Richard, they do not know if they have eaten."

Across the room, Dick sighs, upside down from where he’s hanging off a pull-up bar. "You can’t just put them in a chair like a neglected houseplant and hope that fixes it, Kory."

"I would never!" Kory gasps, offended, already moving toward the kitchen. "Houseplants need sunlight, and they have not left the apartment all day!"

You slump further into the cushions, letting the argument flow around you. It’s not unpleasant, exactly. They talk loud, talk with their hands, talk like every word is worth saying even when it’s stupid. Kory’s voice carries like a song, her vowels stretched and rounded. Dick is clipped in that very particular way that means he’s making jokes to keep from saying something real.

"Here," Kory says, reappearing with something bright orange in a bowl. "You like soup."

"Do I?"

"Yes," she says firmly, pushing the spoon toward your hands.

There’s no argument to be had, not really. You let her press the spoon into your fingers, let her nudge the bowl closer, let yourself be cared for. It’s easier than resisting. Easier than explaining.

Dick drops down from his pull-up bar, shaking out his arms. He crouches next to the couch, eyes skimming over you like he’s checking for injuries. Maybe he is. Maybe it’s just a habit, like the way he tracks exits in every room.

"You okay?"

You blink at him, slow.

"Sure."

His mouth pulls sideways, not quite a smile. He raps his knuckles lightly against your knee and stands up.

Kory sits beside you, taking up more space than a person should. She does everything in abundance. When she laughs, she throws her whole head back. When she loves, she wraps her arms around the entire world.

When she worries, she brings you soup and cups your face in her hands and hums under her breath like she's willing you back to life with the sound of her voice.

And Dick—Dick worries in corners. He worries in clipped jokes and lingering touches and the slight crease in his brow when he thinks you aren’t looking.

It’s not bad, being loved by them. It’s just a little heavy.

#yandere dc #😺– request #yandere dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader #yanderes dick #dick grayson x reader #yandere starfire x reader #yandere starfire #starfire x reader #yandere batboys #yandere teen titans x reader #teen titan x reader #dc x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere batfam

653 notes · View notes

sunflwrapple · 7 months ago

Text

Starfire : Jason, may I ask you a question?

Jason : sure?

Starfire : you ever going to sleep with Y/N

Dick : 😧

Jason : that’s.. awfully personal

Dick : we don’t ask Jason things like that, kori!

Starfire : perhaps you don’t, I do-

Starfire, looks back at Jason expectantly : ✨U✨

Jason : Kori—

Jason, sighs : all my life, I have been uncomfortable with the sort of physical contact that comes easily to others

Jason : hand-shaking

Jason : hugging

Jason : ..prostate exams

Dick : *nods*

Jason : but I’m working on it! Y’know, just recently I had to put vaporub on Y/N’s chest.

Jason : a year ago, that would have been unthinkable

Dick : okay, hang on— are you saying someday you and Y/N might...

Dick : actually get..physical?

Jason, smacks lips : it’s possibility

Starfire : 👁👁

Dick, wheezes : Kori— please stop gripping my arm so hard—

Starfire, proud sister-in-law : Jason, I know this wasn’t easy for you and I’m really glad we could have this conversation 😇

Jason : 🙂👍

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #Jason Todd incorrect quotes #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood incorrect quotes #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #dc comics incorrect quotes #nightwing #dick grayson #starfire #koriand'r #my works

957 notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 3 months ago

Note

For DC, would you mayhaps write about picking them up when they aren't expecting, or just didn't think you could, almighty writer?

DC COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You pick them up as if they weighed absolutely nothing

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Dinah Lance, Wally West, Victor Stone (Cyborg), Garfield Logan (Beast Boy) & Lobo

Reply to anon: If I understood your request correctly (I really hope so), I love you for this request, it was so fun to write this headcanon.

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

- It is a rare thing to catch Bruce Wayne off guard, a feat most would deem impossible. He is a man of precision, calculation, and control, his every move rehearsed in the dark solitude of his mind long before it is executed. And yet, when you lift him into your arms with the ease of a shadow passing over the city, all his legendary foresight shatters in an instant. His breath stutters—just once, imperceptible to anyone but you—and his gloved hands instinctively grasp your shoulders, as if to confirm the absurd reality of what is happening. The weight of Gotham’s protector, cradled so effortlessly against you, is a secret victory that sends a slow smile curling at the edges of your lips.

- "Tch," he exhales, the sound more air than voice, his dark eyes narrowing in something between astonishment and begrudging amusement. "You’ve been holding out on me." His pride does not allow him to admit the full extent of his surprise, but the way his fingers tighten ever so slightly against your arms betrays him. Bruce Wayne is not a man who enjoys being caught unaware, and yet—there is something in the way you handle him, something in the unwavering steadiness of your grip, that quiets the usual tension that knots his body like a bowstring drawn too tight.

- He does not struggle. He does not order you to put him down. No, he merely tilts his head, calculating, the sharp angles of his face betraying the ghost of a smirk. "I assume you have a reason for this," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear. "Or do you just enjoy surprising me?" It is a challenge, an invitation, and perhaps, in some small way, a confession. For all his formidable strength, for all the ways he has trained himself to never relinquish control—there is a part of him that does not mind being held by you.

- Later, when the moment has passed and Gotham calls him away once more, he does not mention it. But you notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his fingers brush against your wrist just a little longer than necessary. And when, the next time, you reach for him with that same effortless power, you swear you see the corner of his lips quirk upward—just for a second—before he allows himself to fall into your embrace.

Kal-El (Clark Kent, Superman)

- The sky belongs to him, the very air bending to his will, the world itself no heavier than a breath upon his palm. And yet, when you lift him into your arms, when you cradle the Man of Steel as if he were something as light and effortless as a whisper, it is his turn to be left breathless. His blue eyes widen—just slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of disbelief that dances through them like a shooting star. "Whoa," he exhales, the sheer sincerity in his voice making you laugh. "Did you—did you just—?"

- He does not finish his sentence, because the answer is obvious. He is here, weightless in your grasp, and despite all reason, he cannot quite seem to wrap his mind around it. He has lifted mountains, shifted tectonic plates, carried entire cities upon his back—but this, this is something entirely different. He peers down at you with a mixture of awe and delight, a boyish grin breaking across his features, and suddenly, he is not Superman, not the Last Son of Krypton, but simply Clark—a farm boy who has just been shown a new miracle in a world that he thought he had seen from every angle.

- "Well," he laughs, resting his hands lightly on your shoulders, his touch warm, steady. "I guess turnabout is fair play." He is not used to being the one lifted, the one held, and there is something undeniably endearing about the way he lets himself be carried, as if surrendering to the simple joy of the moment. His grin softens into something fonder, something gentler, and his voice dips to a lower timbre, laced with that impossible tenderness that only he can wield so effortlessly. "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

- Later, as you stand together beneath the open sky, he will wrap his arms around you and lift you high into the air, spinning you in a slow, weightless circle, as if to remind you that the universe still bows to his strength. But the truth, the quiet, unspoken truth, is that he will remember this moment—not for the sheer impossibility of it, not for the surprise of being lifted, but for the way you looked at him as you did it. As if he was something precious. As if he was something worth carrying.

Barry Allen (The Flash)

- One second, he is standing before you, mid-sentence, hands moving animatedly as he rambles about some impossible feat of science, some breakthrough that only his mind could possibly keep up with. And the next—he is airborne. Suspended. A blur of red and gold frozen in time as you hoist him effortlessly into your arms, his entire train of thought derailing so spectacularly that for the first time in what is possibly ever, Barry Allen is at a complete and utter loss for words.

- His blue eyes blink, wide with sheer, unfiltered astonishment. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, as if struggling to find a logical explanation for what just happened. "What—how did you—" He pauses, glances down at himself, then back at you. "Okay. Alright. This is fine. This is normal. Totally normal. This is a thing that happens." His words come faster now, a breathless tumble of disbelief and delight, and despite the initial shock, there is no fear—only pure, infectious amusement.

- And then he laughs. Oh, he laughs—bright and bubbling over, like the crackle of lightning against an open sky, his body practically vibrating with sheer giddiness. "I mean, I know I’ve swept you off your feet before, but this—this is a whole new level." His arms loop around your neck, dramatic and theatrical, his head tilting back as he lets himself be cradled as if he were some fairytale damsel. "Be honest, you’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?"

- He will tease you about this for weeks, recounting the moment with exaggerated flair to anyone who will listen. But there will also be the quiet moments—when he leans against you just a little more than usual, when his hands linger at your waist as if remembering the steady strength of your arms. And maybe, just maybe, the next time you catch him at full speed, he will let you lift him once more—just to feel, for a fleeting moment, what it’s like to be caught by you.

Diana of Themyscira (Wonder Woman)

- The daughter of gods, sculpted from sacred clay, raised among warriors whose strength is the stuff of legend. To surprise Diana is no easy task, for she has spent centuries honing herself into something divine, something unyielding. And yet—when you lift her into your arms, when you cradle her as if she were no heavier than a whispered prayer, the Goddess of Truth is rendered momentarily speechless.

- Her lips part, her brows lifting ever so slightly, and though she does not gasp, does not falter, there is an undeniable flicker of astonishment in her gaze. "You are stronger than you appear," she muses, her voice warm, touched with something akin to admiration. A warrior recognizes another, and in this moment, she sees you in a new light—not merely as her love, but as something formidable, something unexpected.

- And then, she smiles. Not a small smile, not a coy smirk, but something radiant—something that reaches her eyes, that sets her entire face alight with unmistakable joy. "Impressive," she hums, resting a steady hand against your shoulder. "Though, I must admit, I rather enjoy this perspective." There is a teasing lilt to her voice, a challenge dancing at the edges of her words. It is rare for anyone to hold her in such a way, but she finds, quite unexpectedly, that she does not mind it at all.

- Later, she will return the favor with ease, sweeping you into her arms without effort, carrying you across battlefields, across cities, across oceans. But in that moment, in the quiet space between surprise and laughter, she allows herself to rest in your hold, to relish the warmth of your embrace, to be held—not as a warrior, not as a princess, but simply as a woman who loves, and is loved in return.

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

- Arthur Curry is not a man accustomed to feeling small. He is a king, a warrior, a force of nature bound in muscle and salt, the weight of oceans resting upon his shoulders. He has wrestled sea monsters the size of mountains, stood unyielding against the fury of the abyss, and emerged from every battle with the untamed, feral grin of a man who belongs to the storm. But when you lift him—when your arms curl around him with a strength that defies reason, hoisting him off solid ground as if he were nothing but driftwood—his entire world tilts. His golden eyes widen, stunned, his calloused hands gripping instinctively at your shoulders as if the sea itself has betrayed him.

- "What the—?" His voice is a startled rumble, a sharp bark of laughter cutting through the shock. His thick brows furrow, then lift, his expression wavering somewhere between indignation and absolute, boyish delight. He has never been handled like this, not even by the tides he calls home, and it is as absurd as it is exhilarating. "Alright, alright, I get it," he grumbles, though his smirk betrays him. "You’ve been hiding those muscles from me, huh?" There is no protest, no attempt to reclaim his dominance—only the rough, teasing warmth of a man who knows when to yield to the unexpected.

- He tests you, just a little, shifting his weight in your arms as if daring you to drop him. But you don’t. Not even close. And something in his grin turns sharper, more wicked, because he loves this��loves being surprised, loves the way you refuse to let him be the only powerful one in the room. "Damn," he chuckles, low and approving, his gaze sweeping over you with something hungry, something possessive. "That’s actually kinda hot."

- When you finally put him down, he doesn’t step back. No, he lingers—crowds close, his massive frame still buzzing with the thrill of it. And then, without warning, his arms are around you, hoisting you off your feet with ease, spinning you in a full, dizzying circle before crushing you against his chest. "Had to return the favor," he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with laughter. "But next time, sweetheart? Give a king some warning before you knock him off his throne."

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

- Hal Jordan is weightless before you can even blink. A man accustomed to soaring, to the rush of flight beneath his ribs, he has never once imagined himself being lifted—not without the emerald glow of his will forging the sky beneath his feet. But now, here, in your arms, held effortlessly with no ring, no power beyond the sheer impossible strength of you—Hal is, for the first time in his life, truly speechless.

- "You—hold on, what?" His voice cracks, laughter bubbling out of him in a disbelieving rush. His hands press against your shoulders, his pulse hammering with something electric, something wild. "Oh, no way. No freaking way." His mouth splits into a grin, bright and reckless, his green eyes alight with sheer, giddy amusement. "Are you messing with me? Is this some kind of—?" But no, there’s no trickery, no constructs at play, just you, standing solid beneath him while the world spins wildly out of sync with everything he thought he knew.

- And he loves it. Oh, he loves it. Because Hal Jordan lives for the unexpected, for the thrill of new frontiers, for the rush of facing the impossible head-on. And you—lifting him like he’s nothing, standing there with that knowing smirk—you are a whole new adventure, and he is utterly, shamelessly hooked. "This is amazing," he declares, wrapping his arms around your neck, leaning in close, grinning like a devil who has just been handed the keys to heaven. "You do realize I’m never gonna let you live this down, right?"

- He doesn’t stop talking about it. Ever. The next time the League gathers, he flings an arm around your shoulder and grins at the others. "You guys won’t believe this," he announces, smug and gleeful. "This one? Picked me up like I was a damn sack of potatoes. I mean, look at me! Look at this!" And when the teasing inevitably turns back on him, when Barry is cackling and Diana is arching a knowing brow, Hal just shrugs, utterly unapologetic. "Hey," he says, looping his arms around you once more, flashing you that impossibly charming, infuriatingly smug grin. "What can I say? I’m into it."

Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

- Oliver Queen has spent his life dancing on the edge of danger, slipping through shadows and fire with the unshakable confidence of a man who always lands on his feet. But this—this was not in his playbook. One moment, he’s standing there, all easy smirks and smooth arrogance, and the next? His feet leave the ground, his entire world tilting as you lift him with effortless strength, cradling him as if he were something delicate. And for the first time in years, Oliver Queen has no immediate comeback.

- "…You’ve got to be kidding me." His voice is flat, stunned, as his hands instinctively grip your shoulders. His green eyes blink once, twice, his mouth parting in absolute disbelief. "Did that just—did you just—?" And then it happens—the breathless chuckle, the slow realization, the sudden shift from shock to pure, unfiltered amusement. A wide, toothy grin breaks across his face, bright as wildfire, and before you know it, he’s laughing, full-bodied and unrestrained. "Oh, I love this," he gasps between chuckles, eyes gleaming. "I love this. Are you seeing this? Someone take a picture—no, wait, don’t, I have a reputation to uphold."

- He throws himself into the bit immediately, draping an arm over his forehead as if he’s some swooning noble. "My hero," he sighs dramatically, peeking at you from beneath his lashes. "How will I ever repay you for saving me from the perils of standing?" His grin is wicked, challenging, but there’s something beneath it—something warm, something fond, something that lingers even as his laughter fades into something quieter, something real.

- Later, when he’s sprawled beside you, still smirking, he nudges your side with his elbow. "You know," he muses, tapping his chin, "I think I might need saving again sometime soon." And then, without warning, he flings himself at you, arms wrapping around your neck with all the grace of a man who knows damn well you’ll catch him. "Quick, sweetheart," he grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Before gravity kicks back in."

John Constantine

- John Constantine has seen many things in his life—things that would shatter the minds of lesser men, things that slither and whisper in the dark, things that crawl beneath the skin of the world and rot it from the inside out. But this? This is something else entirely. One second, he’s standing there, cigarette between his lips, coat draped lazily over his shoulders, and the next? He’s airborne. Lifted. Weightless. And utterly, utterly done with this reality.

- "Bloody hell," he curses, his usual rasp of sarcasm momentarily failing him. His cigarette nearly tumbles from his lips as he grips at your arms, wide-eyed, indignant. "You having a laugh, love?" But you don’t waver, don’t so much as break a sweat, and that realization sends something flickering through his gaze—something wary, something intrigued, something dangerously close to impressed.

- "Well, that’s just embarrassing," he mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose, tilting his head as he eyes you with newfound consideration. "And here I thought I was the one with all the tricks up me sleeve." He shifts in your arms, testing the hold, then smirks, lazy and sharp. "Alright then. Carry on, darling. Just make sure you don’t drop me—I’d hate to spill me pint."

- Later, when he’s sitting with you, fingers tapping against his glass, he glances your way with something softer hidden beneath the bite of his words. "Next time," he murmurs, swirling his drink, "maybe give a bloke a warning before you decide to turn his world upside down, yeah?" But there’s no real protest, no real annoyance. Just the lingering, undeniable truth—he liked it. He liked you. And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous magic of all.

Roy Harper (Arsenal)

- Roy Harper has been thrown, knocked down, and sent flying more times than he can count. But this? This is different. One second, he’s standing there—grinning, cocky, weight shifted lazily onto one hip—and the next, his feet leave the ground. For the first time in a long time, Roy Harper is caught instead of doing the catching. His mouth opens, a sharp inhale of surprise, his arms flailing for balance, but there’s nothing for him to do except accept it. And he absolutely, completely does not know how to handle that.

- "H-hold up—wait—what the hell?" The words tumble from his lips in a startled bark of laughter, his hands instinctively clutching at your shoulders. His blue eyes are wide, scanning your face for some kind of explanation. "You just—how did you—?" His brain stutters over itself, trying to make sense of it. It’s not that he thinks you’re weak—hell no—but he knows how heavy he is, how solidly he’s built, and the fact that you lifted him like he was nothing? That’s something else entirely.

- Then, of course, the reality of it sinks in, and Roy Harper, being Roy Harper, does what he does best—he leans into it. "Damn, babe," he whistles, his signature smirk creeping across his face. "If I’d known you were this strong, I’d have made you carry me around ages ago." He shifts slightly in your arms, testing your grip, then settles in with an exaggerated sigh, draping an arm over his forehead like a damsel in distress. "Guess I don’t need to hit the gym anymore—got myself a personal lifter right here."

- And when you finally put him down? He doesn’t walk away. No, he sticks close, bumping his hip against yours, looking up at you with a mix of mischief and something warmer. "You’re full of surprises," he murmurs, his voice dropping just slightly, almost thoughtful. And then, with a wicked grin, he adds, "So... how do you feel about carrying me to bed, sweetheart?"

Koriand’r (Starfire)

- Koriand’r is no stranger to flight, to weightlessness, to the effortless way she moves through the sky with the sun’s fire at her back. But being lifted by you—by your hands, your strength, your unwavering confidence—is something she has never felt before. And it stuns her. Not out of fear, nor shock, nor disbelief—no, it is something softer, something warmer, something that spreads through her chest like the first rays of dawn.

- "Oh!" The delighted gasp slips from her lips as her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, golden eyes blinking in wide-eyed surprise. For a moment, she simply looks at you, studying your face, as if committing this feeling to memory. And then, as quickly as the surprise came, it melts into sheer, unrestrained joy. "Oh, my love!" she exclaims, her voice a bright melody of laughter, her fingers tangling in your hair as she tilts her head. "This is wonderful!"

- She does not hesitate to make herself comfortable, resting easily in your hold, her warmth seeping into your skin like sunlight. "You are so strong!" she praises, her voice dripping with admiration, her eyes glowing with pure, genuine awe. "Why did you not tell me before? We could have done this so many times!" There is no embarrassment, no hesitation—only the full, boundless embrace of a woman who loves fiercely, who takes nothing for granted, who cherishes this moment for all it is.

- And later, when you place her back down, she does not simply walk away. No, she hovers, her hands still cradling your face, her lips pressing a kiss—soft, lingering, grateful—against your cheek. "I must carry you next," she declares, her voice rich with excitement. "It is only fair!" And then, before you can protest, she sweeps you into her arms, laughing as she soars into the sky, twirling you through the air in a radiant, dizzying dance of love.

Kara Zor-El (Supergirl)

- Kara Zor-El is used to being the strongest person in the room. She has spent her life holding back, careful with every touch, every movement, every breath, always hyper-aware of her own power. But you—lifting her so effortlessly, holding her as if her strength does not matter—it knocks the breath from her lungs in a way no villain, no kryptonite, ever has.

- "Wha—wait, what?" Her voice is higher than usual, startled, her hands gripping your shoulders instinctively as her legs dangle in the air. Her wide, blue eyes blink rapidly, scanning your face for some sort of answer. "You—you picked me up?" She sounds offended for a split second before the reality of it truly hits her, before the corners of her lips twitch and something suspiciously close to a giggle bubbles in her throat. "You picked me up."

- And then she’s laughing—full-bodied, bright, joyful—because it’s so ridiculous, so absurd, and so absolutely wonderful. "Oh my god," she wheezes, her head dropping against your shoulder as she shakes with laughter. "I love this." She leans back, resting easily in your arms, grinning up at you with an expression so full of delight it’s almost blinding. "How are you this strong? Have you been holding out on me? Are you secretly Kryptonian? Oh my god, are we long-lost cousins? Should I call Clark?"

- When you finally put her down, she immediately tests you again—jumping at you with zero warning, wrapping her arms around your neck, trusting you to catch her. And when you do? She beams. "Again," she demands, eyes bright with exhilaration. "Again!" And suddenly, she’s obsessed. She will never let this go. You have doomed yourself to a lifetime of Supergirl dramatically flinging herself into your arms at the most inconvenient moments.

Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)

- Slade Wilson does not like surprises. He is a man who calculates every outcome, who moves with precision, who keeps his world meticulously controlled. He does not get caught off guard. But this—the sudden shift in gravity, the impossible strength behind your touch, the way his feet leave the ground—this is a surprise so profound that, for one fleeting second, the legendary Deathstroke is stunned.

- His single eye narrows sharply, his body tensing instinctively, a thousand battle instincts screaming at him to react. But there is no attack, no enemy—only you, holding him like he is something fragile, something weightless, something you can control without effort. And that—that—is what truly catches him off guard. "Well," he rumbles, his voice dangerously low, "this is new."

- He does not panic. He does not flail or struggle. No, Slade Wilson merely analyzes, his sharp mind whirring as he studies your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly—so slowly it’s almost imperceptible—the corners of his lips twitch into something that is almost amusement. "You’ve been keeping secrets," he murmurs, the faintest ghost of a smirk curving his lips. "That’s dangerous."

- When you finally set him down, he does not step away. No, he lingers, his presence a solid, immovable force as he tilts his head, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. And then, just as you think the moment has passed, he reaches out—gripping your wrist with a strength that rivals your own. "My turn," he states simply, before sweeping you up effortlessly, his smirk widening as he watches your expression shift. "Now, let’s see how you handle surprises."

Kent Nelson (Doctor Fate)

- Kent Nelson is a man who has lived through centuries of battles, his mind tethered to the ancient wisdom of Nabu, weighed down by the knowledge of the cosmos. He is not easily shaken. He has fought demons, walked through dimensions where the laws of gravity bend and break, and seen the rise and fall of civilizations. And yet, for all his experience, for all his wisdom, nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the moment when you pick him up like he is no heavier than a feather caught in the wind.

- His body stills immediately, the flowing gold of his cloak pooling in your arms, his gauntleted hands frozen mid-motion as if his mind is struggling to catch up with his reality. He has faced eldritch horrors that defy comprehension, but this—this is something else entirely. "...Interesting." The word is measured, calm, but you can hear the faint edge of bewilderment in his voice. Beneath the helmet of Fate, his expression remains unreadable, but you can feel the way he is processing. Analyzing. Calculating how this is even possible.

- "There are few beings in existence who could accomplish this," he finally murmurs, and the weight of his words is almost laughable. But there is something else beneath them—something softer. Awe. Intrigue. A deep and abiding reverence for the unknown, for the mysteries of the universe that even he has yet to unravel. And right now? You are one of those mysteries. A puzzle he had not anticipated, but one he finds himself eager to solve. His fingers trail along your shoulder, light as a whisper, as if trying to feel the power beneath your skin.

- And then, in a rare moment of levity, the corners of his lips curve into something that is not quite a smile but something like it. "I wonder," he muses, "if Nabu knew about this." There is an unmistakable note of amusement in his voice, and you can tell—tell—that he is already planning the next time he can test your strength again. Doctor Fate may be bound to destiny, but Kent Nelson? Kent Nelson has just discovered something infinitely more interesting than fate itself: you.

Rachel Roth (Raven)

- Raven is used to control, to restraint. She has spent her life mastering herself, holding back, ensuring that nothing—not a single tremor of emotion—escapes without her permission. But control means nothing when you sweep her off her feet without warning. One moment, she is standing in the comfort of your presence, and the next, the world tilts—her balance stolen, gravity defied—and she finds herself cradled in your arms.

- "What—" The word is cut off, her breath catching in her throat, violet eyes wide and blinking as if she has glitched. It is not fear—Raven does not fear you—but it is shock, raw and unfiltered, slipping past the walls she has so carefully constructed. No one lifts her. No one dares. She is Raven, daughter of Trigon, wielder of darkness, but you—you lift her as though she is made of something far lighter, far softer. "...How?" The question is quiet, but laced with something dangerously close to wonder.

- And then, after a long, weighted pause, her lips part again. "Put me down." The words are flat, carefully neutral, but the telltale blush dusting her pale cheeks betrays her. You hold her a moment longer—just long enough to see the way her fingers twitch as if fighting the urge to grab onto you—and then, finally, you comply. The moment her feet touch the ground, she crosses her arms, tilting her chin slightly as if regaining her composure. But the faintest flicker of amusement sparks in her eyes. "You could have warned me."

- But later—later—when she thinks you aren’t looking, you catch her staring at you. Calculating. Considering. And the next time she finds herself in your arms? There is no sharp inhale, no startled demand to be put down. There is only the way her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, the way she allows herself to lean into your warmth. And if, just once, you hear the quietest whisper of "Again." as she buries her face in your neck, well... you say nothing.

Zatanna Zatara

- Zatanna is a performer. She has dazzled crowds, charmed audiences, and bent the very fabric of reality to her will with a flourish of her hands. She is a woman who makes the impossible look effortless. But what she does not expect—what she cannot predict—is you pulling a trick of your own. One moment, she is speaking, hands gesturing mid-sentence, and the next, she is in the air, her words dissolving into a startled gasp as she finds herself in your arms.

- "Well, hello there!" she exclaims, blinking in surprise before laughter spills from her lips, bright and genuine. "Was that part of the show? Because if so, I think I missed my cue." Her dark lashes flutter as she tilts her head, studying you with a slow, appreciative smirk. "And here I thought I was the one full of surprises." The twinkle in her eyes is unmistakable, a magician recognizing another masterful trick.

- "You have to tell me how you did that," she continues, wrapping her arms around your neck in a movement so seamless, so graceful, that it’s as if she was always meant to be there. "Strength spell? Secret training? Or—" she leans in, voice dropping to a playful whisper, "are you actually just a natural-born showstopper?" There is no flustered stammering, no embarrassment—only delight, only curiosity, only the unmistakable thrill of discovering something new.

- When you finally place her back down, she takes a step back, then claps her hands together. "Again." The demand is immediate, playful. "I need to know if it was a fluke! We must test this thoroughly." And just like that, you have created a monster. Zatanna will not let this go. From this day forward, any time she catches you off guard, she will jump at you just to see if you’ll catch her. And when you inevitably do? She’ll flash you that signature grin and purr, "Abracadabra, darling."

Dinah Lance (Black Canary)

- Dinah is a woman who stands her ground. She is not used to being swept off her feet—not figuratively, and certainly not literally. So when you do it, when you lift her with effortless ease, her first instinct is not to gasp, nor to flail. No, her first instinct is to fight. Her muscles tense instinctively, her fists clenching as if ready to counter, before her brain catches up and realizes—oh. Oh.

- "No way," she breathes, blinking as her lips part in pure, undiluted shock. "No. Freaking. Way." She actually leans back in your hold, looking at you with something between disbelief and sheer respect. "You’re kidding." Her voice wavers with something suspiciously close to laughter. "You did not just pick me up." But you did, and it is glorious.

- And then—because she is Dinah Lance—she grins. "Damn," she exhales, whistling low. "Okay, okay, I see you." And just like that, her shock melts into admiration, her blue eyes practically glowing with mischief. "Guess I better step up my training, huh? Can’t have my own girlfriend outmuscling me." She claps your shoulder when you set her down, shaking her head with a smirk. "That was impressive."

- But from that day forward? Dinah challenges you. Random push-up contests, lifting competitions, anything to test just how strong you really are. And if you ever lift her again? She just throws her head back and laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck and whispering, "Alright, babe—you win this round."

Wally West (The Flash)

- Wally West is used to moving faster than the eye can see, faster than thought, faster than the speed of sound. He is kinetic energy made flesh, a man who cannot be caught, cannot be contained. He is motion incarnate. So when you lift him off his feet—effortlessly—the sheer absurdity of it freezes him in place. His body, which has always been a blur of momentum, stops. And for the first time in his life, Wally West is utterly, completely still.

- "Whoa—whoa, whoa, whoa!" His voice cracks mid-exclamation, his arms flailing comically before his brain catches up. "What just happened? Did I trip? Did I pass out? Did I break the time stream again?" His hands immediately pat down his own chest, as if confirming that he is still in his body, that this is, in fact, reality. But the reality is this: you are holding him, carrying him without effort, and that? That should be impossible.

- His blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly as he stares at you in stunned disbelief. "You picked me up?" The words are barely above a whisper, his voice laced with an almost childlike awe. "You—just—picked me up?" And then, all at once, his expression shifts. His lips curl into a slow, mischievous grin, and a spark of amusement ignites in his gaze. "Oh, I see how it is," he drawls, looping his arms around your neck as if settling in. "You like sweeping me off my feet, huh?"

- From that moment forward, he turns it into a game. He will actively try to surprise you, using his speed to dodge your attempts—only to deliberately slow down at the last second so you can catch him anyway. And when you do? He laughs, bright and carefree, resting his forehead against yours with a smirk. "You got me again," he murmurs, voice warm with adoration. "Guess I’m falling for you all over again."

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

- Victor Stone is not easy to move, let alone lift. He is composed of reinforced titanium alloys, advanced cybernetics, a living fusion of man and machine. He knows exactly how much he weighs. He knows the sheer impossibility of what you are attempting. So when you do—when you lift him without struggle, without hesitation—his internal scanners glitch.

- "No way," he mutters, his voice layered with static interference as if his systems are struggling to process. His red cybernetic eye flickers slightly, running rapid recalibrations, recalculating physics itself. "Hold up—nah, this ain’t right." His brow furrows, fingers flexing as he subtly shifts his weight in your arms, testing your grip. But you do not falter. You hold him—steady, sure, unyielding. And for the first time in years, Victor Stone feels weightless.

- "I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended," he finally says, his tone a perfect balance of deadpan and deep amusement. "Like, damn, babe—this whole time, I thought I was the strong one." But beneath the teasing, there is something softer. Curiosity. Admiration. And something he does not voice, but you know he feels—trust. He has spent years reinforcing himself, ensuring that no one could ever carry him again, that he would never be helpless. And yet, in your arms, he does not feel lesser. He feels safe.

- When you finally set him down, he exhales a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "Alright, alright—you got me," he admits, rolling his shoulders. "But next time? You gotta let me return the favor." And sure enough, he does. He waits for the perfect moment—when you least expect it—before scooping you up effortlessly, his deep laughter echoing as he grins down at you. "Yeah, see? Feels kinda nice, don’t it?"

Garfield Logan (Beast Boy)

- The moment you lift Garfield Logan, his brain short-circuits. His limbs flail wildly, his mouth opens in a silent gasp, and his entire body goes stiff as if he has just been yeeted into an alternate dimension. His emerald green eyes go comically wide, and his next breath comes out in a strangled, "WH—?!"

- "Did you just—?" His voice cracks mid-sentence. "Did you just pick me up?!" His hands instinctively grasp at your shoulders, but his fingers don’t clutch—they cling, as if his entire existence depends on holding on for dear life. "Dude. Babe. Love of my life. My entire world. Are you—are you even real? Because this? This should be illegal."

- And then, the realization fully hits him. The shock melts into something else. Something dangerous. His lips twitch, his expression morphing into pure gremlin energy. "Ohhh, this changes everything," he cackles, his voice practically vibrating with mischief. "You know what this means, right?" He leans in, his green skin practically glowing with delight. "You are now legally responsible for carrying me everywhere."

- And true to his word, he commits. The moment you set him down, he refuses to accept it. He will dramatically throw himself into your arms at every opportunity. Walking? Nope. Lifting weights? Absolutely not. Why would he ever do that when he has you? "Babe, please," he whines, arms outstretched, giving you the biggest, saddest puppy eyes imaginable. "I was made for this life. I belong in your arms. Carry me. Carry me like one of your French girls."

Lobo

- Lobo is not used to being moved—by anyone. He is a Czarnian, a being of unmatched strength and durability, a walking tank with enough raw power to go toe-to-toe with Superman. He has never been overpowered, never been handled. So when you do it—when you lift him with ease—his entire soul leaves his body.

- "What the frag?!" The expletive leaves him in a near roar, his crimson eyes blazing with shock. His first instinct is to fight, muscles tensing, but then he realizes—you’re not even struggling. You are holding him like he weighs nothing. The Main Man. The Last Czarnian. In your arms. And it is so baffling, so completely ridiculous, that he just... stares.

- And then—then—he starts laughing. Howling. "Oh, this is priceless," he chokes out between laughs, his voice booming. "You just—pfft—you just picked up Lobo like he’s a damn kitten?!" His laughter is raucous, unrestrained, but there is no resentment. No wounded pride. If anything, he looks at you with a newfound respect. "Alright, babe, I see how it is. You got guts."

- But Lobo is not one to be one-upped. "Next time, though?" He leans in close, his grin sharp and challenging. "I ain’t goin’ down without a fight. You wanna sweep me off my feet? You better earn it." And true to his word, he tests you after that—deliberately throwing his weight at you, seeing if you can keep up. And when you do? When you always catch him, every single time? He lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle, wraps a massive arm around your waist, and murmurs, "Damn. I really hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

775 notes · View notes

sobbingscripter · 4 days ago

Text

Tags: [wlw][mdni][friends to more?][pining][exhibitionism?][self gaslighting][Tamaran customs][yoga][reader is downbad][kissing (⁠灬^‿^灬⁠)][praise][nipple sucking][scissoring][fingering]

"Kory..."

You groan, eyes squeezed shut and you're exhausted, letting out huffs of exhaustion as you continue to be follow Kory onto the rooftop of the Titans building. The sunlight streams in hot, golden strands, beating down on you.

"It's like, 6AM. Everyone else is sleeping."

Like all sweethearts, Kory felt that with the messiness of being a superhero, she's been disconnected from you. And what other way to bond with your closest friend, than waking them up at the asscrack of dawn to do something new every second morning?

"Kory, I'm hungry." You whine.

Kory ignores you, continuing to roll out her yoga mat and she inhales sharply. The morning air is crisp and she settles down on her mat, legs folded and she glances towards you, expectantly.

And you whine, but comply.

Mimicking her motions, and you settle down on your own mat, fingers laced in your lap and you let out a deep breath, back slumped like a capital C and expression scrunched because it's like the Sun just gets brighter.

And Kory giggles. "Open your eyes."

"We're literally facing the Sun. It burns and I could go blind." You deadpan, blinking rapidly because fuck, your eyes are so dry right now.

"Better to go blind, than to not see the world."

Her voice is something that's so sweet. So saccharine that it takes you a hot minute to realise that she's saying some bullshit and you turn to face Kory, instead.

"Who taught you that?"

"I came up with it." She beams, dimples deepening in her tanned cheeks and you hum.

"I can tell."

You allow yourself to bake in the warm, golden sunlight bathing the both of you as you face the ball of gas and you peek at Kory from the corner of your eye.

Her lashes are resting on those stupidly high cheekbones, full, mauve toned lips curled into a soft and almost appreciative smile and her hair flows down her back like a river of magma. Voluminous, so flattering and you swallow hard.

She looks like some kind of deity.

"You look like a sexy orange."

You watch the way her lips purse, dimples deepening in her cheeks as she tries not to laugh before her eyes flutter open, and she looks at you, head cocked.

"Can you take anything seriously?" She hums, lips quirked in amusement and you shake your head.

"Definitely not, no." You blow out a breath. "And if you take it seriously, it's an even harder no."

⊹♡🔥♡⊹

Yoga's definitely not for you, but watching Kory do it, is a salve to your wounded ego.

Because never once have you ever been insecure about being inflexible.

"Kory, my knees."

"It's only been 12 seconds." Her belly flexes as she giggles, her arms raised over her head and they're straight as an arrow.

Her chest heaves with each deep and even breath she takes, her little cropped shirt mocking you as it flutters in the warm, summery breeze that makes you wish you took off your hoodie but you know damn well, you're not even wearing a sports bra under it.

You're facing her.

Her gaze doesn't waver.

How are her eyes so magnetic, when she doesn't even have a fucking pupil? Just... A green orb in a socket but you feel like they're pulling you in.

"You're staring." Kory comments, her voice quiet alongside the chirps of the birds, and you let out a breath. Heavy, shaky and so, so unfit.

"Really?" You puff out. "I couldn't tell on account that I'm looking at you."

And she sighs, almost dramatically and she lowers her arms for a moment, signalling that it's a switch of position. "Do you have to be so negative?" She questions, and immediately, hits Warrior I again, but this time, with the other leg.

You mimic her stance.

"Kory, I'm sweating at 6AM." You grumble.

"This is the first position." She reminds and your expression nearly crumbles. Your arms hurt, your back hurts, your ankles are aching and your eye's twitching.

"Oh God." You pant. "I think I'm dying."

And she laughs. It's soft. It's melodious. She laughs like if a Disney princess was from an alien planet and had ass for days.

"Well, at least you'd die looking very... Dewy." She reassures. Before her eyes look you over. "Are you regretting not changing into something suitable?"

And you swallow. "No." You lie. You're sweating balls. "I'm very comfortable."

"Just take off your hoodie, I'm not judging."

"I'm not wearing anything underneath."

And Kory blinks. Slow and careful. And there's not a thought behind those eyes.

"They're just breasts? Look, I'll even—"

"No." You interrupt. "There are cameras here and no free shows."

Her lips purse and her brows furrow in that cute little frown she does when she doesn't understand something, "Humans are so odd."

You don't look up when you're in child's pose.

It just doesn't feel right and the coolness of your yoga mat feels so good against your forehead. Your body's aching from the stretches, your brain's just a bit fuzzy because how does her sweat smell like cinnamon?

Your shoulders are so relaxed, your arms stretched out ahead of you, your knees tucked to your chest and you let out an even breath.

"This is nic—"

"And into downward dog."

You listen to the way Kory rustles, her body moving and your gaze flicks up.

"Kory!" You nearly scream. "I can see your whole pussy."

Her legs are straight, feet and palms flat against that violet yoga mat, and you can see all the muscles in the backs of her legs flex with the strain.

But you can really focus on, is the outline of her cunt through those yoga shorts, pulling taut against puffy folds and you try not to stare too hard when she peeks at you from between her legs.

"Are you enjoying the 'free show'?" She teases you, lips curled and her hair falling forward in a gorgeous gradient of pinks, reds and oranges, the golden sunlight barely able to filter through the strands.

"No." You breathe out, your cheeks are burning and your ears feel hot. "It feels like you just flashed me."

"You're welcome." She gleams. "Now, get in position."

"Can you turn—"

"There is no time."

No matter what, your gaze keeps flickering up. If you stare hard enough, you can see the subtle pulse of her cunt with each exhale she lets out, and you swallow hard. Lowering your head and trying to calm your racing heart because is this what a crackhead feels like when they see a dealer that's out of their budget?

"You need to keep your head up to open up your chakras." She gently chides you.

"Kory, I can see your chakra."

And she snorts. "Just do it." And she pauses. "And it's my nirvana."

"I'd say it's your Narnia." You murmur under your breath, before following her instructions, and you tip your head back, letting out an even shakier breath.

And your gaze flickers towards her chest, and your breath stutters. Her shirts riding up, and you're catching a whole view of underboob, topped off with pretty nipples, pebbled. And you swallow.

This is totally normal. It should be normal. It doesn't feel normal but it's probably normal.

But you know:

It's not normal.

It's not normal that your heart's pounding like a meth head's. It's not normal that you're fighting demons to not blow a thin stream of air in the direction of Kory's stupidly close pussy, just to see if she'll feel it.

And it's definitely not normal to hope she does.

⊹♡🔥♡⊹

"And now, we go into a straight arm side plank and lift your other leg. And then, I'll hold your foot and you'll hold mine."

You stare at Kory in pure silence.

"What kind of ecstasy do you do, to think I can do that?"

And she smiles, inhaling sweetly and she stretches her arms overhead, forcing your gaze to lower to her tightly toned tummy and the soft swells of her breasts that peek out from the frayed edge of her croptop.

"The ecstasy of life."

You frown.

"You keep saying shit like that and I'll push you off this roof."

"You silly thing," she coos, her lips curl before she reminds you, "I can fly."

The positioning is awkward, especially since Kory didn't tell you that she'd switch your legs. And you'd look like the literal scissors emoji together.

You keep your hand on her ankle, grasping her foot for dear life and you feel how gently her manicured fingers wrap around yours. And you'd feel guilty for your dragon claw grip but her core strength is better than yours.

"Kory, my tummy h—" Your gaze flickers down to where her shorts is practically translucent, white fabric stupidly clear and you can see every pretty, silky fold and you lose your balance. Tumbling and you land hard on your ass.

"Oh!" Her voice is so sweet as she moves towards you.

"Are you okay?" Her thigh's tucked beneath one of yours, and her other thigh, is tossed over your remaining leg in a way that's so leisurely.

But your breath stutters.

"Kory, Kory, we cannot— You're too close." Her hand moves to cradle the side of your face, dark tumeric coloured brows furrow in confusion and she moves closer. "What do you— oh..."

She glances down to where there's mere inches between your crotches, her lips parting before she bites down on her bottom lip, gaze flickering to your face.

"On Tamaran... This is how friends bond."

"Girl, you come from a porn planet, don't you?" You huff out, pushing yourself up on your elbows and you watch the way her lips curl, and her dimples deepen.

"Maybe." And she leans closer, hands braced on the yoga mat and you can feel the way her breaths ghost over your face.

And fuck, her eyes are so pretty.

"But I've never practiced my customs with anyone here on Earth, aside from learning the languages." And she tilts her head, lashes fluttering so sweetly and you have no idea how she gives you doe eyes with no fucking pupils but she does. "Would you embrace my customs with me?"

Oh my God, are you being gaslit?

"Uh huh." You nearly stutter, big doe eyes focused on Kory and the way her smile widens, pointed canines peeling just a bit. Before she croons, her palm warm against your cheek.

"Good girl."

And you're down bad.

⊹♡🔥♡⊹

The first time your tongue slides against hers, your brain shuts off entirely. Your thighs parted to accommodate her waist, your ankles locked behind her back and her lips pressed so sweetly against yours.

Kory's fingers remain laced with yours, hips pressing against yours like she's trying to get friction some way or another and she smiles into the kiss.

It's so subtle. Her tongue brushing against yours, gossamers of saliva stringing between you and your brain's so fucking fuzzy because all you taste is toothpaste and mouth between you.

And she pulls back, her lips glossy and kiss swollen, as she peers down at you, her lashes fluttering and she hums.

"Does it feel good?" She's soft, fingers tracing along your palms as she keeps them pinned on either side of your head, expression so sweet and adoring.

"Huh?" Your voice cracks. And she snickers. "Wow. For the first time, you're taking something serious."

She dips her head and all you smell is fucking citrus and sweetness. Her lips press against your pulse and you feel the way she lingers just to feel the erratic pump, before she moves. Down, down, down.

Until she's at the dip of your clavicles, exposed by your oversized hoodie and her hands slide down, grasping at your waist and giving you the sweetest squeeze.

"I won't take this off." She whispers. "Because it'd be a free show." And she moves her hands towards the edge of her own shirt, grasping the flimsy fabric and pulling it overhead.

"But I'll take this off." She discards the fabric. "Because I don't care about free shows."

And your face is burning. You're staring up at Kory like she invented AO3 because God, you might be falling in love.

Vibrant sunlight surrounds her like a halo, her hair's a flaming crown and her skin looks like molten gold.

And those eyes. A shade of green that would make you weep if you saw it anywhere else and your voice cracks in a mumbled 'wow' when she guides your hands to her chest, and the weight has your mind stumbling like that old vine of that guy leaving his trailer.

And you giggle.

"So pretty." You whisper softly, your thumbs brushing over her nipples and the way she sighs has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. Her hand feels warm as it rests on the back of your neck, and she stares down at you, perched on your lap with rosy cheeks.

And you dip your head, licking a long wet stripe from the crevice between her tits, all the way up to the hollow beneath her ear. And Kory shudders, eyes fluttering shut as she feels the way you suck marks into her skin, dotting her flesh all the way until you get to the swell of her tits.

And your mouth's so warm, her nails digging into your neck as your tongue swirls around a pebbled bud, your other hand gently tugging at her unattended nipple.

"Oh..." Her lips form the prettiest 'o' shape. "Just like that..."

Kory moans and it sounds like a fucking symphony, and suddenly, it's all you wanna hear. Morning, noon and night.

You're sucking attentively, lavishing her chest in kisses and nips, sucking hickeys into the skin until she's panting, belly dipping inward and hips twitching needily.

"That's my girl..." She croons so prettily, looking down at you with hazy eyes and parted lips. "Feels so good..."

And sooner than you'd guess, your shorts and panties are discarded, and so are hers. One of your thighs are braced against Kory's shoulders, her knees digging into the mat on either side of you.

And she's focused.

Gently sliding her clit against yours until she's feeling her thighs quiver and buckle.

"You're so wet." She whispers softly. "So pretty." She's bringing a hand down to part your plump lips, staring down at your glossy folds like they're something to be worshipped and she glides again.

And again.

Her lips pressing the softest kiss against your ankle, her brows twitching into a furrow and she feels the way your hips buck, eager to meet each grind of hers.

And she sighs.

"You're so soft." She whispers. "So delicate, so lovely."

Kory's brain is a mushy haze. Friendship's never felt so... Good.

The burn in her belly feels damn near instant when it's taken lovers nearly hours to even light the flame, she can't get enough of the way you watch her from beneath fluttering lashes. Your pussy sticky against hers, your hands grasping at the curves of her waist with desperation like you want her closer.

Your hands slide up her sides, cradling her chest and you moan at how her hips twitch, cunt pulsing against yours and it feels so nasty when Kory lifts her hips, and you watch the way the sunlight catches the sticky strands of slick that connects you.

And you barely make an audible sound when you feel two of her fingers sink into you. Your head lands against the mat beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut and you know.

You bring one of your hands down, between her thighs and your fingers drag through her slippery folds, shaky digits fumbling for her clit and the way she gasps has you clenching around her fingers.

You do those circles with your fingers, the sticky bud threatening to escape your fingers with each shlick but your persistence makes Kory's tummy flutter.

Kory leans down, her lips pressing against yours as she bucks her hips in time to the pumping of her fingers, her tongue curling against yours.

This doesn't feel like friendship.

It doesn't feel like friendship when she's clamping down on your fingers, when she's spitting into your mouth and licking it back up again. Her forehead against yours as she comes on your fingers, your other hand tangled in her hair and you whine when you feel the way her palm grinds down against your clit, hard.

And you're seeing stars behind your eyelids, your ears filled with her panted breaths and praises.

You feel warm.

So... So... Warm.

And you're floating, whimpering when she pulls her fingers out of you and listening to her longful sigh when you do the same.

There's a quiet silence that blankets the moment that's otherwise filled with birdsong and the sounds of early morning traffic from the city. And Kory hums softly, her breasts pressed against your chest as she presses her cheek against yours.

She brings up a hand, flexing and scissoring her fingers to see how the sunlight illuminates your slick.

And she giggles.

"Friendship is magical."

⊹♡🔥taglist🔥♡⊹

@lucky-beheaded

@noodle-bowls

@allycat4458

@jasontoddswhitestreak

@feral010

@pariahsparadise

@likeastickaaaa

@lordbugs

@sea-glasses

@gvtdoll

@elebeleb

@jiminie-08

@lexatron

@fandom4life234

@lavenderyaz

@supersecretxreadersideblog

@groundzerospitfire

@tamaranblaze

@radriiot

@mcharris747

@ripcolel0l

@munji-tunji

@maliagurl

@atanukileaf

@calicocat-ina-tuxedo

@squigglewigglewoo

@ilove-nsfw

@5lxt4u

@starski

@titchx0

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@theamazkngskye

@custardpuddingprincess

@blckbarbiedoll

#sobbingscripter #seven shades of pride #dc comics smut #dc comics x reader #dc comics x reader smut #dc comics #starfire #koriand'r x reader #starfire x reader #starfire x fem!reader #starfire x you #starfire x reader smut #starfire x fem!reader smut #starfire x you smut #koriand'r #koriand'r x fem!reader #koriand'r x reader smut #kory anders #kory anders x fem!reader

271 notes · View notes