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LOLLLL

the idea of any of the moon knight boys eyes lighting up like when the suit transforms before they …..

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Their facial expression says it all.

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BRUCE WAYNE can't sleep with you on top of him.

Don't think that it has anything to do with your size or weight- he could probably lift ten of you, and then some.

It's because it reminds him too much of his mother. How she stood in front of him on the night she died, not an ounce of hesitation in her posture. It reminds him of how it felt to be the one protected, so useless in the face of danger when stood in front of.

Don't even get him started with you covering him with a satin sheet as you sleep on his chest, the material so simliar to that of Marha's shawl that she covered his eyes with that night.

So, no, your husband can't sleep with you on top of him.

He needs to be the protector.

He needs to be the one resting just that little bit of his weight on you like a silent, secret promise. He needs to be the one to cover you up with the mosg beautiful, silk sheets money can buy. He needs to be the one sleeping closest to the door, the closest to any potential danger.

Just like Martha would for him.

Bruce protects you, even in sleep.

One sheet and arm around your waist at a time.

Masterlist

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୨୧ ── Stream with me!

› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader

› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?

› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show

Bruce Wayne

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.

Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.

"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—

"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"

It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 

A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?

No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.

"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."

Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 

A lot more today? 

How many more were there than usual?

He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.

Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.

BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing

isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man

IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE

InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.

Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 

He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.

The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.

"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."

The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.

You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 

Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 

"Honey, are you playing this right?" 

"Am I not?"

He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 

What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.

Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.

His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.

"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.

Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.

The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.

Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD

Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT

MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 

Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM

You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.

"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.

"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.

The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.

Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.

I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]

Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.

"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.

Dick Grayson

Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!

When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.

Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.

You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.

Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you

Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW

TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more

Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!

"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.

"See? She keeps on hurting me."

"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 

You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.

"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.

"What do you suggest then?"

And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.

Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!

"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"

Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.

"Still can't beat me, honey."

"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."

That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.

5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.

It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?

"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.

"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.

The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.

Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!

It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.

And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...

Daywalk donated 5$  

I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart

Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?

"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.

"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"

"Dick."

"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.

Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 

You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.

Jason Todd

"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 

You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.

In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.

First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.

"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 

"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.

Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him

Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics

Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 

And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.

"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.

With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.

You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.

With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?

Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.

Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.

Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 

It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.

His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.

An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"

The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.

"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 

"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.

Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.

It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.

One minute he was about to hug you.

The next, your fist connects with his face.

Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!

"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.

Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.

Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point

Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other

So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.

He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.

When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.

"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.

The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.

Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME

Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)

TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.

"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.

Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.

Tim Drake

"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"

Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.

He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.

Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings

Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!

You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.

"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.

"What game do you guys want to see us play?"

Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.

You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.

"Horror games? That sounds good."

What!

Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.

Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.

He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.

This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.

Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?

And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.

Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.

He takes a peek at the comments at the side.

HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...

Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T

Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro

Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.

"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.

Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.

"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.

You love Tim.

You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.

But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.

He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.

"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.

Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort

Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv

MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?

Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.

Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.

Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 

They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.

Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.

Goobert: AYEEE

HoelessRomantic: Aye.

Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!

and a million others more.

"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.

Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.

Damian Wayne

Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.

You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 

Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 

It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!

Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...

Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn

Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy

HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman

"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 

He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!

Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.

"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 

He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.

And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.

The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.

But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.

And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.

Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat

Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN

HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox

Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...

As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 

It was too late though.

"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 

Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.

"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."

"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.

You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?

"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 

Big Poo: Tower of hell :>

Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 

Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR

Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?

Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.

"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 

Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.

"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."

"Me too. I feel so stupid."

You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.

It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.

The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.

The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.

Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO

Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—

He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.

Husband rights defended! ;p

And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 

No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.

As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.

"Big Poo..." 

Uh oh

"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"

The stream has ended.

extra scene!

In another universe...

In the timeline of Young Justice...

Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?

They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.

Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.

In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.

"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"

"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"

"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."

They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.

"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"

"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"

"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.

Great.

It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.

They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.

[lufvg]

「SUPERFANS BATBOYS WITH F!STREAMER!READER」

★ TAGS: older!damian wayne, older!duke thomas, major crack energy, the boys are majorly obsessed with you, your username is just your name

ASKS

★ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ★ | ★ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ★

FICS !

BATBOYS BUT THEY'RE ALL SUPER FANS OF F!STREAMER!READER.

BATBOYS BUT THEY SEE SOMEONE THEY RECOGNISE ON F!STREAMER!READER'S IRL STREAM. FT. WALLY WEST!

BATBOYS BUT THEY SEE F!STREAMER!READER PLAYING SMASH OR PASS WITH THEIR HERO PERSONAS WHILE COSPLAYING AS THEM ON STREAM.

BONUSES !

WALLY BRAGS TO DICK ABOUT BEING F!STREAMER!READER'S FAVOURITE HERO.

[lufvg]

where we begin.

clark kent x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. when unexpected changes test them, clark and you find new strength in each other.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [6.8k].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 corenswet!clark 〳 established relationship 〳top!clark 〳 bottom!reader 〳 m!preg (reader) 〳 morning sickness 〳 pregnancy symptoms 〳 rough sex 〳 size kink 〳 breeding 〳 cumplay 〳 rimming (r!receiving) 〳 blowjob (r!giving and r!receiving) 〳 gagging 〳 spit 〳 body worshiping 〳 body marking 〳 impregnation

The tension in Clark’s broad shoulders hadn’t fully left, the residue of a long day spent balancing deadlines and world-saving lingering beneath his skin. But now, as he stood close to you in the dim light of your bedroom, the weight shifted, replaced by a raw, urgent need that pulsed through every muscle.

His chest was a perfect landscape of muscle; hard ridges beneath his shirt, the steady rise and fall with each breath like the ebb of some mighty tide. Thick arms wrapped around you, the power in his grip undeniable but tempered by tenderness. When his hands closed around your wrists and pinned them above your head, it was a command whispered in silk and steel; you felt the immense strength holding you effortlessly, the sheer force he could wield without breaking you.

You barely moved beneath him, a mixture of desire and awe flooding you as his steady gaze locked onto yours. His clothed cock pressed heavily against your thigh, rock hard and thick, aching from the long day without release. Just the thought of finally having you beneath him, your body open and vulnerable, made his pulse race faster.

He traced his fingertips along your jawline, eyes darkening with want and something softer,something like worship. “God, you look so good for me,” Clark growled quietly, voice rough with need. His tongue flicked out, wet and warm, licking the shell of your ear as his hands slid under your shirt, palms flattening against your back.

Your breath hitched when his mouth found the sensitive hollow of your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. The scent of your skin—your sweat, your natural musk—flooded his senses, fueling the fire growing between his legs. His bulge twitched insistently, aching to be buried deep inside you, to feel your tight heat clenching around him.

He kissed down your collarbone, lips lingering over the delicate skin, before lowering himself until his mouth hovered just above your chest. His tongue circled a nipple, sucking it hard, the sharp sting mixing with the pleasure like electricity racing through your veins. Your hips lifted without thought, grinding up against his mouth as he teased you mercilessly.

“Clark…” you gasped, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, full of dark promise and a deep, unwavering love. “Not yet,” he whispered, voice rough but patient. “I want to taste every inch of you.”

His hands roamed lower, sliding beneath your pants and underwear, palms warm and sure as they wrapped around your cock after he stripped the undergarments off. His thumb circled the sensitive head, slick with precum, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Clark’s mouth descended slowly, lips parting to take you in, the heat of his breath making you moan deep in your chest.

His tongue worked expertly along your shaft, flicking over the frenulum with teasing flicks, then taking more of you in, his throat flexing as he swallowed your length. His hands squeezed your hips, anchoring you as he bobbed his head, the wet, hollow sounds of his mouth working you filling the quiet room.

Your body trembled, heat pooling deep in your belly, your fingers clutching the sheets as pleasure built to a desperate crescendo. Clark pulled back with a gasp, lips swollen and glistening. “You’re so beautiful,” he growled, voice thick with lust.

He stripped off his own shirt, revealing his broad, chiseled chest slick with sweat. His skin gleamed under the low light, muscles rippling as he shifted his weight in continuing to undress himself from top to bottom.

Clark’s mouth lingered against your skin a moment longer before he slowly pulled away, leaving your entrance slick and burning with need. You shifted, breath ragged, eyes dark with hunger, reaching eagerly for the thick length already standing proud and heavy against his lower abdomen.

Clark knelt on the bed, his muscular thighs spread just enough to balance the heavy weight pressing between them. His cock was impossibly large, long and thick, veins pulsing like rivers of raw electricity beneath the taut skin. The swollen, glistening head oozed with precum, slick and shining in the soft light. It wasn’t just the size that demanded attention; there was a primal urgency in its heavy swell, a heat that radiated off his skin in waves.

Beneath it, his balls hung low and full, swollen with need and thick with the promise of release. The skin was taut but velvety, the weight pulling slightly at his thighs as they shifted with every breath he took. You watched as the heavy sacks swung slowly, brushing against the smooth planes of his legs, the slightest movement sending them teasingly bouncing—so full they looked like they could burst.

Each subtle motion made his cock sway, a pendulum of desire that your eyes couldn’t leave. When he shifted forward, you could see the thick length stretching, pressing insistently toward you, begging for your mouth. The warmth from his skin was intoxicating, mixing with the faint scent of sweat and musk that clung to him after a long day.

Your own breath caught as you reached out, fingers trembling, the anticipation knotting in your stomach. Your mouth watered as you leaned closer, lips parting slowly like a soft invitation, your tongue already aching to taste that immense hardness. The weight of him pressed into your senses, too much, and yet not nearly enough.

Around you, the quiet of the room seemed to shrink, the only sounds were your quickening breath and the subtle slick noises of his arousal. The bed creaked faintly beneath him, the shifting of muscles taut with desire drawing you in deeper.

You could feel the heat of his body before your lips even touched him, that heavy weight of his cock and balls swinging just enough to brush teasingly against your chin. It was a promise; the promise of all the fire and strength and tenderness that Clark held inside, and the unspoken invitation to take it all.

At first, you managed only the head, your lips stretched impossibly wide around the thick crown, tongue swirling at the sensitive ridge beneath the rim. The heat radiating from him was fierce, almost overwhelming, and you could taste the salty musk, the rawness of him that made your heart pound.

You tried to slide farther down, to take more of him, but his girth was relentless, so thick it stretched your jaw beyond comfort. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, escaping and trailing wet streaks down your chin. Your jaw ached fiercely from the stretch, muscles tight and trembling, but you refused to stop.

Clark groaned, his hands threading through your hair, holding your head steady and encouraging you wordlessly. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the length so heavy it brushed the back of your throat when you tried to take him deeper. Gagging softly, you pulled back a fraction, breath hitching, but your lips never lost contact.

You swallowed hard, working your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes; lips sliding down, tongue flicking over the swollen veins, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to send shivers through both of you. Every inch of him filled your senses, the overwhelming size a delicious challenge you were determined to meet.

Clark’s hips jerked lightly with need, his breath ragged as he moaned low in your ear. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” he gasped, fingers tightening in your hair.

You pushed through the ache in your jaw, eyes locked on his face, watching the raw desire flicker in his gaze. You wanted to show him how much you needed him, how much you worshiped every inch.

Your jaw stretched, aching deliciously as you tried to take more, but the sheer girth was relentless, too thick to fit comfortably, yet you didn’t want to stop. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, slick and warm, dripping down your chin in slow rivulets. You swallowed hard, your tongue working tirelessly, tracing the swollen veins that throbbed beneath the sensitive skin.

Your hands wrapped around the base, stroking slow and sure as your mouth continued its relentless worship. Clark’s cock throbbed and twitched in your mouth, each pulse sending jolts through your lips and tongue.

Clark groaned low and deep, hips pressing forward, cock throbbing against your tongue. “Driving me crazy,” he murmured, voice thick with need. His hands tightened in your hair, anchoring you close even as his body trembled with effort. He had been at work all day, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now—here, in this moment—he was yours entirely.

You gave him a teasing smile, a low hum to send vibrations to his cock, pulling back just enough to catch your breath before diving back in, lips stretched impossibly wide around his cock, swallowing every inch you could manage, utterly lost in the sweet, overwhelming sensation of taking him in.

You pulled back just enough to gasp for breath, lips swollen and slick, eyes locked on his face where raw desire flickered. The sight of his flushed cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the dark glint in his eyes; it all made your pulse race.

“You’re killing me,” Clark groaned, voice rough. “Nearly came right then and there...”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, y’know.” You laughed, wiping some drool off with the back of your hand.

Before you could say another word, Clark’s hands slid up your sides, steadying you as he pulled you closer. His lips brushed over yours, then dipped down to your chin, his tongue flicking out to lick the stray drool from your skin with a slow, teasing lick.

The warmth of his mouth followed, soft and hungry, as he captured your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His breath mingled with yours, rough and sweet, as he held your bare body tightly, an unspoken promise that this night was only just beginning.

Clark broke the kiss reluctantly, his eyes dark and molten with need as he cupped your jaw, slowly easing you down onto your stomach. His hands slid to your hips, pressing firmly to lift your ass, angling it up just right. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your chest into the mattress as you spread yourself open for him.

The soft curve of your spine, the smooth swell of your ass elevated and exposed; it was a perfect invitation. Clark’s cock throbbed heavily against your thigh, veins pulsing with urgent heat as his breath ghosted over your slick entrance.

Then, with slow reverence, he lowered his mouth to your entrance. His tongue flicked out tentatively at first, teasing the rim with gentle, deliberate strokes; each movement setting your nerves ablaze and pulling a soft moan from your lips.

The wet heat of his mouth pressed against your sensitive walls made you gasp, hips twitching as his tongue traced deep inside your tight hole, exploring with careful insistence.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Clark murmured against your skin, voice thick and husky with need. Licking again, flattening his tongue, slower with deliberate tease, over your crack. “So good…”

You shivered beneath him, fingers digging into the sheets as his tongue traced slow circles over the crown, inching deeper with exquisite patience. “God, Clark…” you breathed, the sound barely more than a whisper, desperate and raw.

Your muscles clenched and released, responding to the thick, curling pressure of his fingers slipping inside alongside his tongue. The combination of wet heat and firm touch sent waves of sharp pleasure shooting through you. Your body arched higher, pressing into his touch as your breath hitched with each slick, pulsing stroke.

“You feel so good like this,” Clark whispered against your skin, lips brushing over the curve of your ass, “all open for me.”

Your fingers clenched the sheets beneath you, body trembling with every slow curl of his three thick fingers digging deep, stretching you gently while his tongue danced in delicious, maddening patterns. The slick friction mixed with the steady push of his fingers made your vision blur with heat.

“I want to taste all of you,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “I want to feel you shudder around me.”

Your hips gave a desperate, involuntary push against him, needing more, craving that relentless worship. Clark’s cock twitched hard, pressing heavier against your thigh as the slick warmth of your body wrapped him, and his breath grew ragged with the mounting ache.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, voice rough as he swallowed the low moan you let slip. “Every inch.”

Catching your breath, you muffled into the pillow as you felt Clark pull his fingers out of you, “Stole my line, asshole.”

You both chuckled as Clark’s hands slid from your hips to the curve of your waist, fingers curling gently but possessively. With a slow, deliberate motion, he shifted his weight and pressed into the bed beside you, the heat of his muscular body warming your skin. He carefully flipped you over, easing you back until your spine met the mattress and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

The sudden shift sent a delicious flush of vulnerability and excitement coursing through you. Your raised thighs framed him perfectly, hips tilting up as your breath caught at the sight of him: his broad chest rising and falling, muscles taut from the day’s stress now softened in the quiet intimacy between you.

Clark’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you, admiration and hunger burning in their depths. He brushed a damp lock of hair from your forehead, his touch tender despite the fire building inside him.

He paused a moment, savoring the connection, the slick heat pooling between your bodies. His cock twitched, heavy and aching, the thick length pressed against your wet entrance. Clark let out a low groan, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.

His hands settled firmly on your hips, anchoring you, steadying both of you as he traced slow, teasing circles with the tip of his cock over your tight, slick rim. You arched your back, pressing into him, silently begging.

Clark’s breath hitched, and he looked down at you with a softness that made your heart ache. “You know,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “no matter how long my day is… coming home to you like this… it makes everything better.”

You smiled, breathless. “I’ve been waiting for this all day too.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss. His mouth was warm and gentle, full of promise and reassurance, grounding you amidst the heat and longing.

When he pulled back just enough to whisper against your skin, his voice was thick with affection and need: “I want you to feel safe with me. Always.”

You nodded, your voice a soft whisper. “I do. With you, I’m home.”

Clark’s eyes held yours, shimmering with something deeper than desire; a fierce, unwavering love. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your forehead before lowering himself again, ready to join you fully.

“Ready for me?” His voice was low and thick, laced with longing and care.

You nodded, breath hitching, legs tightening around his waist as you lifted your hips to meet him.

Clark’s cock pressed heavy against your slick entrance, the swollen head teasing the delicate rim with agonizing patience. The tight heat of your muscles contracted around him, a delicious, fiery grip that made every nerve scream. Your body quivered, hips instinctively pressing up to meet him, welcoming the impossible stretch.

The slickness coated him like silk, but the tension of your tight, unyielding flesh was a slow-burning fire. Clark’s hands dug into your hips, steady and sure, as he fought the urge to slam in hard and fast. Instead, he pushed forward with slow, excruciating care—his cockhead pressing past your tight ring, stretching you wide, inch by agonizing inch.

The room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air. Clark’s muscles flexed visibly beneath his skin, veins pulsing along his thick arms and broad shoulders as he anchored himself above you. The primal power of his body coiled like a spring, every movement deliberate, restrained, fueled by pure need.

Your breath hitched with the exquisite burn of being filled so completely, your back arching as the stretch deepened, cock buried to the hilt inside you. The overwhelming fullness was at once breathtaking and overwhelming. Every inch a delicious ache that left you trembling, skin slick and flushed.

Clark’s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his strong jaw clenched tight as he slowly sank deeper, the thick length of him filling you with a punishing, agonizing stretch. The hot friction of your tight walls clenching around his shaft sent shivers of raw, unfiltered pleasure straight to his cock, making it pulse and throb with urgent need.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Clark growled, voice low and ragged, a dark hunger flickering in his eyes. “Damn, you take me so well. You’re perfect.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, nails scraping the fabric as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. Your hole stretched impossibly wide, every muscle trembling around his cock like a vice. The heat pooling between your bodies was unbearable, sweat slicking your skin, mixing with the taste of each other.

Clark’s hands gripped your hips harder, flexing his powerful arms as he slowly began to move, the slow, steady push of his cock sliding in and out of your tight, burning heat creating a relentless rhythm that stole your breath and stole your mind.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice thick with desperation and awe, veins pulsing beneath the surface as his thrusts gained strength. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

You gasped, voice breaking under the pressure and pleasure. “Clark—oh, fuck—don’t stop. It hurts so fucking—fuck!”

The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room as he set a brutal, punishing pace, muscles pumping, cock throbbing, the stretch still aching but melting into searing, overwhelming bliss.

Every inch of you was alive, every nerve firing, every breath stolen by the relentless pounding of his thick cock driving deep inside you. You clung to him, breathless and shaking, utterly consumed by the raw, carnal heat between you.

Clark’s cock drove deeper with every brutal thrust. Thick, swollen, hot; stretching your hole beyond its limits, past the line between pain and pleasure until they were indistinguishable. Your rim clung to him desperately, spit-slick and flushed raw, the edges fluttering helplessly as his girth dragged through your tender channel, ruining you. Every withdrawal left your hole gaping open around air for a split second, flushed and twitching, before his cock forced it wide again with a slick, wet pop of resistance giving way.

“Christ,” Clark groaned, one hand sliding from your hip to your bare chest, pressing you deeper into the mattress as he adjusted the angle. “You’re gripping me like you don’t wanna let go.”

His voice was hoarse, dripping with reverence and restraint, but his body was anything but. His cock was a steel-thick monster inside you, heat-flushed and veined, every inch slick with your wetness and the precum he kept spilling into you. You could feel it pulse, twitch, throb with need inside your stretched heat like it was alive. His heavy balls slammed against your taint with each thrust, the wet smack echoing through the thick, humid air, overlaid with your own ragged cries and the low, guttural sounds he made as he fucked you deeper.

Clark’s body radiated heat. Not just from the exertion of moving that massive frame, but because he willed it hotter. His sweat poured in rivulets down the ridges of his chest, beading between his pecs, running down the sharp cut of his abs. His skin burned where it pressed against yours—feverish, slick—and the air around you shimmered with it, suffocating and intimate. It clung to you like a second skin.

Your fingers scrambled blindly for purchase, first clawing at the sheets, then sliding helplessly over his sweat-slicked back. When you found his skin—his wide, muscular shoulders, the tight flex of his lat as he rocked into you—you clung. Digging your nails into him like a man drowning, dragging red lines across the bulging muscles that carved his back and arms like sculpted marble.

“Fuck, baby—harder,” you gasped, voice cracking. Your thighs trembled, calves kicking uselessly against the mattress as you were driven down onto his cock again and again. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop—”

“I’m not gonna,” he growled, voice gravel and smoke. “You’re gonna take it. All of me. Gonna keep taking this cock until I make you forget your own name.”

He punctuated it with a thrust so deep it punched a cry from your lungs, your whole body seizing beneath him. Your mouth dropped open, no sound coming out for a moment except the choked hitch of breath and the obscene gluck-gluck of his cock pistoning into your soaked hole.

Clark withdrew all at once, your hole clenching around emptiness, fluttering, desperate. Before you could beg, he was already manhandling you into a new position; hands strong, but never cruel. He flipped you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades as his hands gripped your hips and lifted your ass. You barely had time to brace yourself. Cheek pressed to the damp sheets, arms trembling; before he lined himself back up and fed his cock into you again, slow and brutal, like he wanted you to feel every inch of it burrow back inside. The new angle drove him deeper, thicker, his cockhead now punching right into the soft bundle of nerves inside you with surgical precision.

He reached up, palmed the back of your neck, pushing your face into the mattress as he angled his hips again, thrusting with a brutal precision, tip grinding up against your prostate with every pass.

You were sobbing now, not from pain but from being so full, so utterly destroyed. Your rim burned, stretched around him wide and red, swollen and shiny from the unrelenting assault. You felt him everywhere: inside your guts, in your stomach, in your chest. It was like he’d moved your organs just to make space for his cock.

“Look at you,” Clark panted, bending over you now, chest dragging over your slick back. His voice came hot against your ear, laced with something wicked. “Look how pretty you stretch around me. You love this, don’t you?”

You could barely nod. Your hands came up again, reaching back and straining your back and shoulders muscles to slide over his sweat-drenched chest this time—touching the thick, solid wall of his pecs, then scratching down as you moaned through clenched teeth.

His body tensed as you clawed. “Shit—keep doing that. Fuck—mark me, baby.”

And you did. Scratches bloomed down the curves of his chest, over the bulge of his biceps as he bore down harder. His thrusts turned ragged, pace violent, wet slaps echoing as his balls smacked your taint again and again, your ass clapping back against his hips with each bounce.

The slick mess between your thighs grew worse. Your cock leaking untouched against the sheets, Clark’s precum pouring into you, squelching with every plunge.

The room was drenched in noise. Moaning, panting, slapping, the squelch of ruined slick, the guttural growl of a man on the edge.

Then:

“Mine,” Clark said, voice thick and trembling. “Every inch of this sweet hole—mine.”

Your hole spasmed around him in reply.

You didn’t know how long he kept you like that: face pressed into the mattress, arms sprawled and limp, ass in the air like an offering. Time warped under the weight of him, his cock sawing in and out with a relentless, punishing rhythm that left your hole raw and weeping around him. The squelch of it, the obscene slap of his hips against your ass, the slick drag of your walls failing to close around his girth—it all melted into one deafening symphony of filth.

Clark’s body trembled above you now. You could feel it—his breath faltering, rhythm stuttering, muscles twitching like he was holding back a goddamn earthquake. He was drenched in sweat, drops falling from his brow onto your back, his grip on your hips bruising.

“Fuck,” he growled, voice unraveling. “You’re so—tight, baby. Taking all of me—gonna fill you up, I’m gonna—shit, I’m gonna cum.”

You cried out, voice wrecked. “Please. Do it. Give it to me. Fill me up, Clark—please, please—”

That broke him.

With a final, punishing thrust that drove his cockhead flush against the deepest part of you, Clark buried himself to the hilt and held. His whole body locked up—thighs flexed, ass clenched, chest rising in a trembling gasp—before he let out a guttural, almost wounded moan.

“Damn—”

Then you felt it.

His cock twitched violently inside you as the first rope of cum shot deep into your guts—hot, thick, and seemingly endless. It hit you like a brand, flooding your already ruined hole, filling you so fast it pushed a wave of his seed back out around the seal of your rim. He didn’t pull out. He couldn’t. He just stayed there, cock throbbing inside you, releasing in heavy, wet spurts that made your stomach cramp from how full you were getting.

You were moaning incoherently, clenching down on him with every pulse, your own cock untouched and leaking against the sheets. Your body was shaking now, pushed over the edge just from the pressure and the sheer, brutal warmth of being used like that. You didn’t need to be touched.

You came without warning. Your whole body lurching forward, ass still high, cock spurting messily beneath you in helpless spurts. You moaned his name into the mattress, eyes rolling back as your hole squeezed around him, milking the last of his orgasm right out of his still-hard cock. It was too much. You felt overstuffed, the creamy slick of both your cum and his pouring down your thighs, pooling beneath you.

Clark collapsed over your back, chest heaving, still twitching inside you. He didn’t pull out. Not yet. His arms wrapped around your waist like a lifeline, mouth pressed to your spine.

“I got you,” he whispered hoarsely. “You did so good for me. So fucking perfect.”

You could only whimper in reply, your body limp, hole leaking, still stretched wide and stuffed full of him. You didn’t want him to move. You wanted to stay plugged, branded, marked.

And Clark—he stayed.

Clark’s breath was ragged as he stayed buried inside you, hips still twitching with soft aftershocks of his release. His heavy cock, still thick and slick, pulsed deep in your wrecked hole, hot seed dripping freely inside you, pooling in the depths where only he could reach.

He rolled onto his side, but didn’t pull out; deliberately keeping you full, his swollen cockhead coated in his own warmth, nestled in your tight, stretched channel. Every slight move sent waves of his cum splashing deeper into you, a heavy, slick flood that made your guts clench and pulse in response.

I’m so full. So fucking full of him, your mind spun, hazy with pleasure and exhaustion. Like I could burst, but I don’t want to. I want this—want all of him buried inside me, filling me completely.

“You’re mine like this,” Clark whispered against the back of your neck, voice low and possessive, fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns down your spine. “I’m breeding you, filling you up—making sure every drop stays where it belongs.”

You shivered, heat blooming beneath his touch, breath catching. “I… I don’t wanna lose it,” you admitted, voice cracked and small, fingertips curling into the sheets. “I want it all. I want to feel it inside me.”

Clark’s lips curved against your skin, his chest warm and heavy over your back. “Then you’ll have it,” he promised, voice rough with want and satisfaction. His hips nudged imperceptibly, spreading his hot seed in deep, glutinous waves inside you. “Every last drop. Nobody else gets this. Nobody else touches you like I do.”

Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so utterly taken, so thoroughly marked by him. His cum was a heavy, delicious weight inside you; proof of possession, intimacy too raw and fierce for words. Your cock twitched helplessly, slick and leaking, but Clark’s presence grounded you, steady and relentless.

“I’m yours,” you whispered back, breath hitching, “all of me. Always.”

Clark groaned softly, fingers digging lightly into your skin, marking you like the prize you were. The air hung thick with sweat and heat and the scent of your mingled arousal—a heady, suffocating mix.

You couldn’t do anything but let your breath catch and fall with his, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, filled to the brim with him.

The first time you felt it, a faint flutter of nausea, you shrugged it off. Maybe it was something you ate, or just exhaustion from the long days filled with too much to do and too little rest. You told yourself it was nothing—just a passing thing that would fade away with a good night’s sleep.

But the mornings came harder than expected, the sour twist in your stomach growing sharper, more persistent. Coffee, once a comfort, now turned bitter and burned your throat. You found yourself clutching the bathroom sink, trying to ward away the wave of dizziness that made your knees weak.

Clark noticed. Always attentive, but cautious not to push too hard. He brushed your hair back one morning as you sat pale and quiet on the edge of the bed.

“You look off,” he said softly. “Maybe you’re just worn down.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Probably just stress.”

But stress didn’t explain the way your muscles ached without cause, or how fatigue seeped into your bones no matter how much you rested. Some nights you woke drenched in sweat, your heart pounding like it was trying to break free from your chest. You’d lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to pin down the strange heaviness pressing low in your belly.

Clark had his own theories, quiet and tentative. “Maybe some weird reaction to that alien virus I fought last month,” he offered one evening, watching you pick at your dinner without appetite. “It’s been raining a lot too…maybe allergies?”

You appreciated his effort to find answers, even if they didn’t feel quite right. The idea of your body betraying you like this unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

Days stretched into weeks, and the symptoms deepened. The nausea became a fixture in your mornings, sneaking into afternoons and sometimes evenings. Your clothes started to fit tighter around your waist, and the occasional sharp pang left you gasping for breath. You found yourself hesitating before movement, afraid of what might come next.

Clark’s watchfulness never wavered, but the questions remained unspoken. You both seemed to dance around the truth neither wanted to voice—not yet. Instead, you talked in fragments, theories swirling but never landing on the impossible.

“Maybe it’s something we haven’t seen before,” Clark mused quietly one night, the weight of the unknown pressing between you. “Something new, something… strange.”

You swallowed hard, not trusting your voice. “Yeah. Strange.”

In the quiet spaces between, your mind wrestled with the mounting evidence your body couldn’t hide. You knew something was happening. Something beyond sickness or stress, but the answer was still out of reach.

Mornings grew heavier, the nausea settling in like an uninvited guest who refused to leave. You caught yourself laughing quietly at your own grimace while stirring the coffee you barely drank. You skimped out on the half-and-half today; no bueno.

“I swear, if this is some cosmic joke, I’m sending a strongly worded letter,” you joked, though your voice lacked its usual spark.

Clark watched you from the doorway, concern etched in his features. “You really don’t look well,” he said, voice low. “Maybe you should take it easy today. Call off work?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you said, waving him off with a weak grin. “Just auditioning for a new role: ‘The Human Barf Machine.’ Think I’ll nail it. But—I’ll be fine. Took a pill.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush your temple with the gentlest touch, then flattened the back of his hand over your forehead, testing your body temperature. “This isn’t like you. You’re not fine.”

You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light even as your stomach twisted again. “Maybe I’m turning into a toddler. You know, like a baby with tantrums. Just missing the diapers.”

Clark’s brow furrowed deeper, and he hesitated before speaking. “You’re not tired like this because you’re just ‘turning into a toddler.’ Something’s wrong. Have you been keeping track? The nausea, the dizziness, the sweating…”

You sighed, the humor fading for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You’re the expert on alien physiology, right? Got any theories?”

He shook his head, voice careful. “Nothing that fits. It’s like your body’s fighting something, but I can’t tell what.”

That night, you both sat on the couch, the air heavy with things unsaid. You toyed with the hem of your shirt, trying to find distraction in the fabric. “Maybe I’m just allergic to adulting,” you quipped, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Clark reached out, fingers curling around yours. “I want to help, but I don’t know how. Just tell me if it gets worse, okay?”

You nodded, biting back the growing worry that was slowly replacing the humor. “I’ll try.”

The days that followed brought sharper waves of exhaustion, your body moving slower despite your best efforts. You caught Clark’s glance more often; that mixture of helplessness and determination to find answers.

One afternoon, after you nearly toppled trying to stand, Clark was quick to steady you. “Okay, that’s new,” he said, voice firm but worried. “You’re not just tired. We need to figure this out.”

You forced a laugh, leaning into him for support. “At least I’m consistent,” you murmured.

He shook his head, the joke falling flat. “This isn’t just fatigue. Something’s happening. I’m going to do some tests, run some scans.”

You hesitated, not wanting to admit how scared you were. “Fine. But only if you promise not to tell me I’m dying every five minutes.”

Clark smiled faintly, squeezing your hand. “Deal. But seriously, we’ll figure this out. Together.”

The days blurred, each morning greeting you with a fresh wave of nausea that tightened your throat and made your limbs feel leaden. You caught yourself rubbing your belly absently, a strange weight pressing there—not just physical, but something intangible that set your nerves on edge. You hated how little control you had over your own body lately.

Clark noticed every change, even the ones you tried to hide. One evening, after you had sunk onto the couch, drained and pale, he knelt before you, his eyes searching for clues.

“You’re barely eating,” he said softly, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “You’re losing weight. This isn’t just stress…or-or a flu!”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “I don’t know what it is. None of it makes sense.” The words tasted bitter. “Maybe… maybe it’s something to do with your biology. I mean, you’re Kryptonian! Maybe I’m… affected by that somehow?”

Clark gave you a small, tired smile. “That’s the best guess I have too. But nothing I’ve seen before explains this.” His hand lingered on your shoulder, firm and grounding.

Nights were the hardest. Your body betrayed you with sudden chills and sweats, and the heaviness in your belly pulsed like a silent drumbeat. You avoided mirrors; your reflection showed tired eyes shadowed with worry, a body subtly changing in ways you couldn’t name.

You’d try to joke about it sometimes, masking your fear. “Maybe I’m turning into one of those aliens you always fight,” you said once, voice cracking. “You know, with weird powers and random health problems.”

Clark laughed softly but didn’t press. “If that were true, I’d have figured it out by now.”

As the weeks wore on, you found yourself avoiding physical activity altogether, drained after even the smallest exertion. The occasional sharp pain caught you off guard, stealing your breath. Clark’s concern grew more visible, the usual confident protector replaced by a quiet worry.

One afternoon, you were halfway through a light workout when your legs buckled. Clark caught you easily but the alarm in his eyes was unmistakable.

“This can’t keep happening,” he said, voice low but firm. “We need answers. I’ll run more scans tomorrow.”

You nodded, too tired to argue. “Thanks,” you whispered.

Clark’s support was steady, but you could tell he was holding back his own fears. Neither of you spoke of pregnancy. It felt impossible, a fantasy that didn’t belong in your reality. Yet the symptoms kept mounting, pressing on your sanity, forcing both of you to question what you thought you knew.

The dull ache in your belly had deepened into something more insistent, a pressure you could no longer ignore. The nausea wasn’t just morning’s visitor anymore; it lingered, a constant hum beneath your skin. Your clothes strained against a slowly rounding waistline, and you caught yourself tracing the curve with trembling fingers, unsure what to make of it.

Clark noticed first. One evening, as you sat quietly, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach, he cleared his throat, eyes searching yours for permission to say the thing neither of you wanted to say.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he began, voice low, “but… have you thought about the possibility that you might be… pregnant?”

You blinked, the words hitting like a thunderclap. Your mind scrambled—no, that couldn’t be. It had to be something else. “Clark,” you said slowly, “I don’t have a uterus—that’s… no. I mean… and you’re a man! Kryptonian man, sure, but also—again, I’m a man… with no uterus! How would that even be possible?! AGAIN, you’re a man! I’m—”

He shrugged, looking both embarrassed and serious, but took your hand in his to ground you back to reality. “I don’t know. I’m just saying… maybe your body is doing something we’ve never seen before. Something biological, something… beyond what we understand.”

The silence between you stretched, heavy and full of questions neither could answer.

You swallowed hard, the reality settling in with a strange mixture of fear and awe. “If that’s true,” you whispered, “then what… what happens next?”

Clark reached for your hand, squeezing it firmly. “Then we face it. Together. Whatever comes, we’ll figure it out. Like always.”

Your breath caught as tears pricked your eyes. Not just from fear, but from the weight of sharing this impossible secret. The weeks of sickness, the exhaustion, the pain; it all made sense now, tangled up in this surreal truth.

And despite it all, a fierce, stubborn hope blossomed inside you. Maybe this unexpected journey wasn’t just something to survive. Maybe it was something to cherish.

The days after that conversation carried a new kind of weight—not just the physical heaviness pressing against your body, but the gravity of the truth you now shared. You and Clark moved carefully through the world, an unspoken pact woven between you.

Clark’s presence was a steady comfort, his hand warm around yours as you navigated doctor visits and late-night talks filled with questions neither of you could fully answer. His strength, once so clearly physical, now revealed itself in patience and gentle reassurance.

You leaned against Clark’s chest, the quiet hum of the evening wrapping around you like a soft blanket. The fear and confusion still lingered, but beneath it all was something steadier—a shared resolve, a partnership forged in the unexpected.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

Clark’s fingers threaded through your hair, his touch gentle and sure. “Me too. But whatever comes, we face it together.”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, finding in them that unwavering calm you’d always depended on. “You think we should start thinking about names?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Already? We haven’t even figured out how this is possible, and you want to name it?”

You grinned, playful despite yourself. “Hey, you said ‘whatever comes,’ so I’m holding you to it.”

Clark gave a small, reluctant smile. “Okay, but let’s keep the names simple. No family names, and definitely nothing too… out there.”

You smirked. “No promises. I’m sure Jimmy would be jumping for joy if we named a boy after him.”

He shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I’m guessing he’d also want dibs on picking the middle name.”

You rested your forehead against his, the weight of everything between you feeling a little lighter. For the first time in weeks, the future didn’t seem so uncertain.

You grinned. “You know, if we’re really doing this whole ‘parent’ thing, maybe you should think about making it official. You know… marriage and all that.”

Clark’s brow lifted, a slow smile spreading. “Jumping ahead a little, aren’t we?”

“Hey,” you said with mock seriousness, “it’s the logical next step.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[lufvg]

Imagine “borrowing” the left glove of your man’s super suit for a bit while he’s napping and stitching a small band of embroidery thread around the ring finger. The thread is colored only slightly darker than the original color of the fabric. It was so inconspicuous that no one who wasn’t looking for it would notice. In fact, it takes your vigilante fiancé about a week to find it himself.

He has to do a little double take, momentarily forgetting what he was doing in favor of inspecting his hand. It’s not an accidental loose thread or anything, it’s an intentional alteration to his uniform, meant to be there. And it’s very clearly supposed to be a wedding ring, so he knows exactly how it got there. He just doesn’t know when. Oh, hopefully he hasn’t been oblivious to your handiwork for long. The thought of you thinking he knew about it and just didn’t care was agonizing. He cares, baby! He cares so much you wouldn’t believe.

It makes him giddy. You’ve marked him. What an adorable thing to do.

He was planning to get the ring tattooed onto his finger already, so he wouldn’t lose the real one out in his dangerous life of fighting crime. But even that would be under his gloves, invisible to anyone on the streets of the city. This, however, announced it loud and clear: sorry, but this vigilante is taken.

When he makes it back from the mission that night, he finds you lounging in your shared bedroom. You’re too engrossed in whatever you’re doing on your laptop to notice him creeping in yet, so he gets a moment to just admire you. To his delight, he recognizes the fabric that clings to your body as one of his shirts.

You finally realize he’s there, lookin’ like the cat who got the cream,

“Hey Babe, was it a good night?”

“You want to marry me~” he croons.

“We are literally engaged,” you shake your head in fake-exasperation.

“I found your little gift,” he gives you the clue to why he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“Oh,” your smile gets bigger, “that.. I take it you like it?”

He takes your head in his hands, thumbs gently brushing the tops of your cheeks, “it’s perfect,”

He presses a cute little kiss onto your nose. He laughs as you open your eyes and whine about having expected a real kiss. Well, he’ll just have to give you one of those too, then… or maybe a few…

[lufvg]

SHE JUST WANTS TO F**K ME ALL THE TIME ▬▬ ( Dick grayson )

tw: sex, nothing too explicit cause I'm afraid of success

summary: Dick loved sex, and thought no one could surpass how high his sex drive is, until he started a relationship with you and you are all the time trying to get him to fuck you.

pairing: dick grayson x fem reader

open request ‐ dick grayson masterlist

"I tried to leave the house but she won't let me out."

"Again? "

The morning had been a bit rough for Dick, he'd woken up to your ass moving painfully on his cock, leaving him ready for their usual morning fuck.

Dick is shirtless, sweaty, his hair a mess, and the sheets still stuck to his back. He shakes his head, chuckling as you try to drag him back toward you by the waistband of his boxers.

Your fingers play with the elastic, and your eyes are begging for one more round. “It’s your fault,” you murmur, leaving wet kisses on his abdomen. “You shouldn’t look like this right after we finish. You tempt me all the time.”

He lets out a hoarse laugh and drops back onto the bed, propped up on his elbows. "You're literally draining me."

"You're more than fit, Nightwing. You can handle another one."

"You think so?" In a second, his expression changes. Dick grabs you by the wrists, twists your body with ridiculous ease, and leaves you beneath him, one knee between your legs and your arms pinned above your head.

"You know normal people only get one round?" he mutters playfully.

He slides his mouth down your neck, to your collarbone. He sucks right where you know he'll leave a mark. His hands release your wrists, but only to run his rough hands all over your naked body, stroking that impatient, dripping pussy of yours.

"That's it," he whispers against your ear. "You're going to make me late again, you know?"

You don't answer. You just moan under his touch, and that brings out a cocky smile from him. He knew the answer. He always does.

His fingers sink into you without warning, moving with a delicious rhythm that forces your back to arch. But he gives you no respite.

"Did you want another round, gorgeous?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours, barely touching you. "Then you're going to earn it."

Before you can say anything, he's already sliding down. He spreads your legs with ease and begins to eat you out with a mixture of hunger and devotion that leaves you breathless. His tongue works as if it has a damn mission. And in part, it does: to leave you so trembling that you can't drag him back down for hours.

Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging unintentionally as your body writhes beneath his mouth.

"Dick... please..."

"Please, what?" he asks in a husky voice, his lips wet, his eyes shining with perversion. "Did you want another one? I'll give it to you. But I'll ruin you first."

▬★

"She wants me at the party, she wants me at the mall"

Dick Grayson always looks impeccable, but there was no better version than Dick Grayson in a tailored black suit, his blue tie, charming smile, and his usual confident posture. He's an expert at moving through high society without losing that mischievous air that distinguishes him. And, as always, he has the attention of every woman in the room.

You just watch him from a distance, drink in hand, dressed in that dress he'd picked out for you once. The one that left him spellbound, so he couldn't take his eyes off your chest. And every movement you made made Dick want to forget about the gala, about Bruce, about all of Gotham.

Since he looked so good in that white shirt that perfectly covered his hard-working body, the one you slept in every night, you should definitely make him wear more suits.

You approached him through the crowd, Dick interrupts his conversation kindly once he sees you closer.

“Can we talk for a second?” you asked, in the sweetest tone you could muster, not letting on any malice you had in mind.

Dick nods immediately, and reflexively follows you without asking any questions.

You lead him down one of the hall's side corridors, to a quiet area, away from the hustle and bustle and prying eyes. The light is soft, golden. The sound of the music barely reaches you. Dick crosses his arms, curious.

“What's up?” he asks with a smile. “Are you bored without me?”

You chuckled softly and shook your head, taking a step closer. Your eyes were brighter than ever, with that mischievous reflex you usually had when you wanted to tell him something in secret. You fiddled with the fabric of your own dress, lowering your gaze slightly, as if you were embarrassed by what you were about to say.

“It’s just… I don’t know if I should say this now,” you whisper, biting your lip.

Dick leans in slightly, intrigued. “Tell me what, swet heart?” He runs his hand gently through your hair, gently tucking a strand behind your ear.

You looked up, looked at him with those good-girl eyes he knew so well. And you let go, softly, sweetly, as if you were saying "I love you" for the first time.

“I want to suck your cock.”

The silence is immediate.

Dick blinks. Once. Twice. The air suddenly feels thick. He stands there, staring at her, processing the sentence. Because it wasn't just what you said. It was how she said it. So cute, so damn sweet.

“You…” he begins, a nervous laugh escaping him. “You can’t say that like that, not here. Not with that voice.”

You tilted your head, pretending not to understand. “What did I do wrong?”

“What did you do wrong?” he repeats, his eyes darting around, as if he were already deciding which wall to use. “Do you know what you do to me when you talk like that?”

You shake your head with completely feigned innocence. “What if I just… walk you to your car? Just a second. Just to… distract you, you look a little overwhelmed,” you say, running a finger along his tie.

Dick closes his eyes for a moment, as if it takes all his willpower not to drag her down that hallway right now. “You’re going to be the death of me. You know that, right?”

Dick didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took your hand firmly, and without looking back, led you through one of the side doors that led to the building's private parking lot. No one saw them. No one dared to stop him.

The car was just steps away. One of Bruce's. Tinted windows, total luxury… and, above all, privacy.

He opened the back door without a word, and before you could even mock his urgency, he'd helped you in carefully, without wrinkling your dress too much. He closed it behind him and stared at you, still kneeling in the seat, breathing heavily.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he murmured, unable to stop staring at your mouth.

You, with the same innocent sweetness as before, leaned towards him, brought your hands to the knot of his blue tie and slowly loosened it.

“I have a couple of ideas, but we need more space.”

Your fingers moved down his white shirt, unbuttoning the first button, then the second… but Dick was barely breathing. His gaze burned, fixed on you, somewhere between exhaustion and on the verge of collapse.

Slowly, you knelt between the seats, your smile as soft as it was dangerous.

“Is this okay?” you asked in a low voice, unbuckling his belt with a skill only someone who knew him so well could possess.

Dick let out a stifled laugh, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the seat. "Now you're worried about that?"

You looked at him once more, as if seeking confirmation that he really wanted this. He looked back at you, completely lost in you.

And then you did it .

Slowly, as if you were tasting a sweet treat for the first time. Caressing him with your lips, with your tongue, with that tenderness and adoration that only you knew how to turn into torture.

Dick placed one hand against the fogged-up glass of the car, the other on the back of your neck, not pressing you, just holding you, as if he needed to hold on to something real to keep from losing control.

Your every move was measured, precise, delicate, and devastating at the same time. You knew him so well that you knew exactly when to speed up, when to play, when to stop for a second and look down on him, with that angelic face that had already earned its place in heaven...

▬▬★

"She just wants to fuck me all the time"

The sound of gloves hitting, the creaking of mats, and the rhythmic panting of labored breaths filled the space. you were in the middle of a sparring session. you and Dick, face to face on the mat, exchanging measured but intense blows.

He was focused, sweaty, his black T-shirt clinging to his body, his arm muscles flexing with every movement. Every kick, every spin, made him look even more irresistible. There was no way to hide it: you were distracted. Very distracted.

The roll of his hips as he kicked. The way he panted. The deep sound of his voice as he gave orders. Your mind wasn't on the practice. It was on his body above yours.

At one point, he takes a few steps back to give you space. He cranes his neck, wipes the sweat with the back of his forearm, and looks at you.

"Your turn. come on"

His voice snaps you out of your trance, but it's too late. You're horny. Too horny to be honest.

You stand, hiding it as best you can, but as soon as you get close, he notices. Dick always notices. Your dilated pupils. Your breathing. The way you lower your gaze directly to his neck.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Are you okay?”

"Perfect" you lie.

"Then fight," he smiles, giving you the first soft blow with his glove, as a provocation.

But as soon as you're in front of him, you give in to temptation. Your hand doesn't go to the glove. It goes to the collar of his shirt. You get closer than necessary. Your lips brush his ear. "You're all sweaty... it smells so good..."

Dick lets out a grunt and in a second he has you cornered against the mat wall, his forearm blocking your way. "Are you horny? Here, while we're training? such a needy whore" he whispers, his voice tense and dark.

"It's not my fault you're so fucking sexy when you give orders."

He looks you for a few seconds, assessing. Then he shakes his head, a crooked smile crossing his face."You're impossible."

He quickly spins you around, pressing your body against the wall, his hard crotch already resting against your ass. His hand moves straight down to your crotch inside your leggings, and when he feels how wet you are, he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Jesus Christ… You’re soaked."

Dick already had his hand inside your leggings when you reacted with a sly smile.

"I'm not going to let you win that easily," you whisper to him, just before turning around abruptly.

He didn't expect it.

You hook him with a swift kick to the thigh and take advantage of his slightest distraction to pull on his arm, knocking him off balance. You both fall to the mat with a thud, but you remain on top, with your knees on either side of his hips.

Dick snorts, clearly surprised, and looks at you with a mixture of pride and annoyance. "Are you playing, or do you want to fight for real?"

"this is my foreplay " you say, with a mischievous smile. You lean over him, placing one hand firmly on his chest while the other goes straight to his waist. He doesn't even move. He just watches you, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't even think about it… "

But you don't let him finish. With a swift movement, you push your hips down, positioning yourself right over his erection through his clothes. The moan he lets out isn't from pain. It's pure instinct.

"What are you doing?" he growls, grabbing your hips. "This is a workout, not an invitation to fuck me with my clothes on."

“Then take me down,” you challenge, starting to move slowly, pressing your core against his member with a friction that draws a low sigh from you.

He grits his teeth. His hands tighten around your waist, as if he's struggling between pushing you off him and pushing you closer. "You're a fucking temptation," he says, his voice deep and husky. "A fucking distraction with legs."

"You're too weak," you tease. "Look at you, you can't even concentrate."

He flips you over with a ferocious snarl, trapping you underneath him in the blink of an eye, his body pressing yours into the mats.

But just as he's about to rip your leggings off...

"Richard." Bruce's dry voice comes back through the cave's speaker.

The silence falls. Dick rests his forehead against your collarbone. He says nothing.

"Five minutes until you are dressed and out."

[lufvg]

- BatBoys × Civilian Reader.

SCENARIO: pecking them on the cheek after they saved you from danger.

- DICK GRAYSON.

Dick had ran inside the burning building after he realised that you were still inside, he discard all the training and ran for you.

He didn't have time to think the moment he heard your name his body move on its on, like he was chasing oxygen.

He was not going to lose someone he loves dearly again, this time he would protect you and be your boyfriend someday.

He had been secretly consuming videos on how to be the best boyfriend in the world and he haven't even got to try that. Bullshit, even if he had to fight death itself he will. No one is going to take you away this time... Not when he's still breathing.

When you peck him on the cheek he froze, the adrenaline rushing back in, his eyes wide shock and still holding your hands.

He just wanted to hold you in his arms and comfort himself and you but holding the edge of your fingers was the best he would do for now.

" That's not my lips tho "

he commented, managing to weild his brain back to the right direction but not without some complications.

" Huh? "

You looked at him confuse.

His hands still clinging onto yours desperately trying to remember the feeling of your hands on his.

" You accidentally kissed me on my cheek and not my lips "

Activity trying to gaslight you and himself.

What he wanted to say was ' Please just do me a favour and open the gate of heaven by kissing me already, I cannot go another day without your lips on mine... '.

How much he yearn to hold you and kiss you infront of everybody, kissing you so hard that he forgot his own name and could only remember the taste of your lips.

" Kiss me Alr- "

Before he could spill his desire Batman drag him away frowning and kept looking at you and Batman.

- Jason Todd.

He saved you from thief's and you kiss him on the cheek. He's in another planet the moment your lips touches his skin.

Goosebumps all over his body, an electric charge sent down his spine and his heart about to explode from the unexpected affection. God, what kind of grip did you had on him?

Hes utterly surprised in a good way, he didn't knew all it took was some expensive costume and doing the right thing.

Unfortunately for you he's hooked. His shoulder relaxing and his once prideful stance turns into one that reminds you of a puppy wishing for more pats.

The scene playing inside his head over and over dissecting everything into pieces. His face didn't turn that red just his whole posture and language did change tho.

Now, he demands kiss for everytime he did and not leaving until you gave him that kiss he was so addicted to.

" Where's my kiss? "

He asked, turning to look at you. His face plastered with that cunning smirk he had whenever he knew he won.

" Kiss? eh "

You look at him confuse, you were just standing there watching him do his heroic deed. Whereas, he suddenly turns with the most idiotic smile and demand a kiss.

" Yeah, my reward. For being a good hero "

Silence.

" You saved a kitten from the tree and you want a kiss? It's not even my kitten "

"... Contribute to society by motivating me through kisses"

He was serious, tho you trapped yourself in this case... Kissing him and thinking he won't take advantage of it. He's smart when it comes to his needs.

He cannot wait until he gets to actually collide his lips with yours... Maybe in the possible future he would get a kiss on the lips for every good deeds.

- Tim Drake.

He's confusion. Staring at you while holding onto the place where you kissed him, he couldn't tell if he was hallucinating because he was sleep deprived or you did kiss him.

His face flush red as his entire body turns warm, even tho it was during the middle of winter he couldn't feel anything else but warmth.

His ears were red as well, he totally forgot about the fact that there were gour people he had tied near the pole watching in silence.

" I- Why would you do that? "

He didn't mean to sound so mad or upset, infact his brain had probably melted by the thought of you kissing him.

" Im not complaining just... I Didn't even have time to process that "

He could clearly hear ever time his heart was beating against his rips, his hands going stiff and extremely warm... Even his eyes were betraying him.

He began, not only didn't he had time to process the pleasure of your touch he did not have time to remember it, how was he supposed to deal with that?

Tho, Tim was the boss of trying to play cool and feeling cool but in reality he's a blushing mess with a smile that scream 'im a pathetic loser inlove'.

" Do you want me to kiss you again? "

You asked, and Tim was over the moon with such opportunity handed to him on a random Tuesday night.

" Yeah, let's do that again... I'll be ready this time "

He might try to make you kiss him again by creating some excuses only he could think of.

- Damian Wayne.

He's happy and not at the same time. His mind is racing itself to see which one will make him restless.

He should be happy that you were so willing to kiss him on the cheek but you kissed him without knowing who he was under that domino!

You didn't kiss him as Damian Wayne, you kissed him as Robin... Batman blood son.

Now there was two thing keeping him sane and insane, one the precious kiss you had given me to him and the fact that you kissed him without knowing it's him...

Should he focus on the positive and be delusional like his older brother...No, he's full of questions and you'll hear them all.

And the fact that you kissed him so easily for just stopping someone for stealing from you? He's going to lecture you as Damian Wayne.

Well, he did like about the fact that you smelled like perfection and your soft lips pressed on his cheek with the cutest smile.

This felt like a shoujo manga, but if his institution is correct the guy would grab the girl by her face (gently) and roughly or gently kissed her infront of everybody.

Tho he's still not happy with you for kissing him for being a decent human being... Your standard are low.

" You're ridiculous for kissing me without any reason "

He fold his arms, the redness in his ears still visible. He doesnt like the way his heart was pounding at him to stop being delusional. Maybe he was consuming too much manga.

" You do realise not everyone should be kissed because they save you "

Yes, tho you should kiss Damian Wayne Instead of Robin... That way he would be able to smile about it in the dark.

" If I see you kissing random I wil- "

You hurried away before Damian could start teaching you on what he will and will not tolerate.

You should only kiss him and he is the only one privilege enough to call your lips his... He's definitely going to lecture you nonstop for kissing people as a gratitude.

He absolutely love's the kiss but he hate that you won't kiss him as Damian Wayne...

- Half asleep and do not know what i wrote I'll fix em tomorrow.

[lufvg]

NSFW Alphabet - Jason Todd

18+ minors dni Jason Todd x fem!Reader CW: smut

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He won’t admit it, but he needs aftercare too. He’ll grab you a washcloth and some water, order you food. Whatever you need, but you better cuddle him in return. Play with his hair, let him listen to your heartbeat! Reassure him.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

His abs. Not in a shallow way, he just worked really hard for his body to be at that level and he’s proud, okay? Of his partner, probably their hips or their thighs. He likes grabbing onto them any chance he’s given and laying his head in their lap.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

On your face, in your mouth. He’ll tell you how pretty you are when he watches you swallow it. Let him taste it on your tongue when he kisses you afterwards. It makes him feral.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to get pegged. Pillow princess. He makes the prettiest sounds, no matter how hard he tries to be quiet (he stops trying after awhile). Tell him how good he takes it and watch his eyes roll back in his head.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not super experienced, but he’s a fast learner.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

It really just depends on his mood. He likes doggy style, but he’ll also let you ride him. He just likes watching you bounce on his cock. When he’s feeling vulnerable though, sweet boy is missionary all the way.

G = Goofy (What is their sense of humor?)

Dry, dark humor on the offbeat until he starts to get comfortable, then he has a dorkier, sillier soft side.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Keen sense of hygiene, keeps everything shaved.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He struggles with intimacy, not knowing how to handle the deeper part of any relationship, but deep down he’s a romantic. In his own way. Late night rides around the city. He’ll speed around sharp turns so you hold onto him tighter.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Every time he’s in the shower. He can’t help it, it’s like his dick knows and he gets hard. Sometimes when he’s bored or he can’t sleep, he watches porn.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Let him wear the suit while he fucks you. That’s all I’m saying. Daddy

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Ding, ding, ding. You guessed it. In the shower. There are times you’re in there with him when it’s entirely about seeking out comfort. Gentle touches, soft kisses, checking injuries. Caressing your wet skin, feeling the water run down his back. Then there are the times he absolutely wants to rail you under the stream, hand tangled in your soaked hair with your flushed face pressed against the cold tile, sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, get them going)

When you first get together, the way you look at him could be enough to get him hard. He’d try to hide it and play it cool, but you can see how hot and bothered he is. As he starts to calm down, his biggest turn on is the way you challenge him. You’re strong and fierce, and that’s hot. You’re not allowed to spar together anymore.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

As much as he likes a challenge, don't degrade him. He'll shut down and wonder in the back of his head if he's good enough to be with you.

O = Oral (preferences in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s not that big on giving at first, just because he’s unsure of himself, but he’s willing to learn and find out what makes you feel good. As far as receiving, he’s fucking weak for blowjobs. He’ll stare down at you with slack-jawed awe the entire time, making sounds under his breath, telling you how pretty you look wrapped around his cock.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual)

Rough and fast most of the time. When things first get started and he struggles with intimacy, he fucks it out like it’s a race, but the first time he makes love to you, he gets addicted to the feeling. He wants to hear you moan his name, right in his ear, like it’s meant for him and nobody else. His hips will stutter every time you quake and clench around him and he’ll press his face in your chest while you writhe. Sometimes, though. He just needs the stress relief, and he will dick you down disrespectfully. He’ll leave you bruised, thighs trembling, dripping with him. But he’s always there to kiss it better afterwards. Sometimes, you can even get him to tell you what’s bothering him.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often)

All the time. Literally every given opportunity. Rooftops? Bathrooms? You two were left alone for ten minutes too long?

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?) He’s arguably an adrenaline junkie, and he gets high on it if you match his speed. It’s almost like a challenge, how far you guys are willing to take it. He thinks he fell in love with you when you reached around and started stroking his dick while you were on his motorcycle.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go/how long do they last?) His endurance is nonexistent the first couple of times, but he’s just excited, okay? After a while, though. It’ll feel like eternities since your first orgasm and he won’t stop until he’s satisfied with your last. (Usually three or four later)

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’ll want you to wear vibrating panties, that he has the control to. You tell him that it’s not funny, the way your knees buckled when you were trying to carry on a conversation with Dick. Grayson looked concerned, and asked if you were alright. It took every bit of composure you had left to smile and nod your head. Those galas were so goddamn boring. Jason has to have his fun somewhere. And that’s all it is. Fun and games, until you make him do the same with a vibrating cock ring. Also strap-ons.

U = Unfair (How much do they tease?) He’s evil when it comes to that. He knows all of your buttons and how to push them. He won’t stop poking and prodding until you’re putty in his hands.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) He’ll try to keep it quiet at first, but this boy is loud. He makes the most wrecked, out of breath noises for you, and run his mouth. Fuck, just like that, y/n. Look at you, such a little slut for it, aren’t you? Like you were made for my cock, look how well you take it. This is my pussy, isn’t it? I own it. You’re mine.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Thespian boy listens to Abba. He will deny it to his death and call you a dirty liar if you try exposing him, but you can’t count the number of times you’ve caught him humming Take A Chance On Me under his breath. When he’s comfortable with you though, you’ll pout and sulk at him over something stupid and he’ll dramatically burst into S.O.S. You’ll laugh and throw pillows at him while he climbs all over his room; when you’re gone, how can I even try to go on? When you're gone, though I try, how can I carry on?

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

All toned, lean muscle and a sharp V that points to a seven inch cock, a little curved and veiny.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Through the roof.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Sometimes, he’ll fall asleep in a matter of minutes, with his head on your chest. Other times, he won’t drift off until the sun starts streaming in, casting a warm glow over your peaceful face.

[lufvg]

DC Masterlist

Jason Todd:

giving Jason vs Ak!Jason a blowjob hcs - smut/nsfw

things you say that fluster Ak!Jason vs Jason Hcs - fluff/sfw

Dick Grayson:

Period Comfort - fluff/sfw

Aftercare when he's Subbing Hcs - fluff/nsfw

Tim Drake:

Tim Drake x reader General Hcs - fluff/nsfw

Multi Character:

Sounding Hcs w the DC Batboys - (ft: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader) - nsfw/smut

Kisses w Them Hcs - DC Batboys x reader (ft: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader) - sfw/fluff

Blowjob Hcs w the Dc Batboys Hcs - Dc Batboys x inexperienced!reader (ft: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader) - nsfw/smut

Dom/Switch/Sub Hcs w the Dc Batboys x reader (ft: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader) - nsfw/smut

Types of Dates They Enjoy (ft: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader, Tim Drake x reader)

Pegging Hcs (male!reader) (ft: Harley Quinn x reader, Poison Ivy x reader, Wonder Woman x reader)

[lufvg]

jason todd would be so good at comforting his s/o through a panic attack i said what i said

edit: MADE A FIC ABOUT IT HERE

[lufvg]

dick took it as blackmail on jason

[lufvg]

୨୧ ── Mask of the man you loved

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd

Scenario: What was supposed to be a peaceful family dinner turns into a place where the past resurfaces. Dick wanted you to move on, but not with his brother. Why do you look at Jason with the same eyes? Do you truly love him, or is it him that you still see in front of you?

Notes: English is not my first language. + Reblogs and likes are appreciated! + Extra scene would foreshadow part 2

Should he blame himself for choosing his career more than you?

He was on his journey to find himself. He went away to find security in himself. The life of Robin just wasn't working out for him. Dick is an ambitious man—he wants to make a name for himself, and you supported that.

There was nothing more fulfilling in your heart than to see Dick happy with himself. You'll disregard any moments of loneliness here in Gotham if it means that Dick was thriving. Besides, you had your own life to worry about. Leaving Gotham University just to be with him would be stupid. Dick also agreed with that idea.

Dick thought you understood him better than anyone. He thought that distance wouldn't be a problem with you as long as you loved him and he loved you. Of course Dick would take your words to heart. You weren't the type to say something meaningless.

"I understand you, babe. I do. I'll be okay here."

That's what you said. Dick trusts you to uphold your words. 

However, the issue wasn't you or your words. You'd never lie to him. He shouldn't even be wondering how it went downhill. He knows what he did. Albeit unintentionally. 

You saved money to plan a trip to surprise him. It was all perfectly budgeted to suit your travelling expenses, food, and other stuff you might see on your date. You happily knocked on his door, expecting to see his cute shocked expression as you tackled him down to the ground, pampering his face with kisses.

When the door swung open, it fucking broke your heart to see a woman bigger than you open the door to his apartment in Bludhaven. You wouldn't have minded—you would've brushed it off as his friend. But would a friend in only panties, a tank top, and your boyfriend's jacket make you think they're just friends?

She had a body akin to a model's. The kind that would make you stare in envy. Her body was the body both men and women dream of—just in different ways. She asks who you were in a sweet tone. Does she not know you? Well, obviously, but if she were a friend, Dick would've—no, you wanted Dick to have shown her your pictures together.

A lot of words are stuck in your throat. You can't even find the energy to get mad at the woman in front of you. She looked as confused as you were. You wanted to be mad. Not at her, not at yourself—but at Dick. Was he cheating?

Both of your heads perk at the sound of a door opening behind her. The shower running in the background caught your attention. She moves a bit to the side, allowing you to see behind her. From there, Dick emerged from the door. Water dripping down his skin with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Kory, who's at the door?" You would've loved to hear his voice this close again if it weren't for the situation at hand. The question sounded wrong. It should've asked who this woman is in front of you, dressed like this. 

Without a concrete answer to say, Kory completely left the door and went to his side to give Dick a clearer view of your figure, who stood shocked and disappointed at him.

He felt his heart drop. His breath hitched in terror. The gravity of the situation had dawned on him. You weren't supposed to see any of this. Dick wasn't cheating on you. He swears to God.

"This isn't what it looks like, Babe." His voice cracks.

"That's what they all say." Your heart breaks.

You were too fast for your own good, too hurt to listen to his shouts and begs in an attempt to stop you and talk about everything. And it wasn't like Dick could run to you; he's almost naked for God's sake. All he could do was yell at your running figure that slowly turned smaller and smaller until you were gone from his sight.

Dick dreads the thought of you crying on your way back to Gotham. It frustrates him so much that he can't stomach the thought of being around Kory now. But he can't kick Kory out of his home. Where would she stay? The only option was to lock himself in his room.

It's been hours since he buried himself in his bed; the scent of the Tamaranean princess fills his nostrils, caging itself in this space. He forgot he let Kory use his room. Being the gentleman he is, he couldn't let her sleep on the couch or floor. It haunts him this way. It petrifies him to remember that look on your face. 

His phone lights the dim room, the sound lures him to scramble upwards to see who it was. You appear in his thoughts. He just wants to fix everything. A sob escapes his lips when he sees your name.

We need to talk.

Dick quickly dialed your number. When the line clicked, he wasted no time to explain himself.

"Babe, I'm sorry, please. Let me explain."

You heard how tired his voice is. It tugs on your heart just thinking of how he looked behind the phone. However, you've already made your decision. The words that fall out of his mouth fall on deaf ears. 

"I want to end this, Dick."

Anything but that. The scenario he dreaded the most has come to life. 

"But why? Babe, I didn't cheat!" He grows desperate. "Trust me, please. She's an alien, babe. What could she know about proper attire? Nothing happened." That ticks you off.

"Yeah, what could she know, Dick? Then what are you? Why didn't you tell her about it?" He hears anger in your voice. "It's not the fact that nothing happened. If you had at least any amount of decency in your body—alien or not, she looks and is a woman! A woman in fucking panties and your jacket, Dick!" He stays silent.

"You're a man with a girlfriend. You're a man who has me. Even if I'm not there, I'd expect you to not have a woman in your house prancing around looking like that. Because at the end, you're a man, and she's a woman, Dick. Tell me how you think that makes me feel?" His heart breaks a little more when he hears your sob at the end, trying your best to sound coherent.

"The fact that you weren't even fazed by what she looked like until you saw me makes me think that it's normalized in your apartment. Just how many times did you see her looking like that to make you think it's okay to have that in your house when you have me?"

He tries to talk, but you always cut in. "Just admit you liked having her like that." The silence after gnaws at both of you. Dick can't find the words to talk back. He can't defend himself because maybe he did. 

It was only an accusation. It was only your insecurity talking. And it was his silence that proved your accusations right. If Dick didn't think like that, he would have interjected as fast as he could. Assure you that he didn't and it was just out of cultural differences that he let her be.

"You're right. Nothing happened. But don't pretend you haven't thought about it at least once." Your words hit him right in the heart. He didn't cheat, but the thought was there. No matter how small or how long ago, he thought of it.

"I'm sorry." 

That's all he could say, and that fucking hurts you more than him not apologizing. It basically meant he's guilty.

"God..." you sobbed. "You have me, Dick. You had me. Why was I even your girlfriend if I wasn't enough for you?" The call ends. 

You didn't want to hear him crying. You also didn't want to let him hear yours. Those years of building each other up. All gone within a second and a single phone call.

Those words still haunt Dick. After 3 years, you're still stuck in his mind. Now you're physically haunting him by showing up here at his family dinner hand-in-hand with his brother, Jason Todd. He wasn't aware that your friendship had upgraded into this.

Dick looks around the table—nobody was as fazed as him at this. Tim and Damian had their sights on the food before them, not bothering to look up when they knew Dick was searching for an answer. So they all knew you were Jason's girlfriend and didn't tell him? It wasn't like he kept you a secret from them. In fact, Dick didn't miss a day showing you off.

And Jason—he knew how much he loved her. He was your friend before you met and fell in love with Dick, so how? You used to assure him that he was nothing more back when you were just a new couple. The bond you had with Jason was naturally much stronger than their relationship at the time.

Hell, why is Dick even making an issue out of this? He has no right to question whom you date now, not even when the said date is his younger brother. It's frustrating that he knows his place. He wishes that he didn't. It's just... disrespect in plain sight. Dick dated you. Would you date your brother's ex?

His eyes are on you as you walk towards Bruce. A big smile on your face with Jason following close behind you. Like muscle memory, Bruce lifts his hand at the sight of you approaching. You take his hand in yours and lift it towards your forehead as a sign of respect. 

Dick's hand tightens under the table. Back then, he was in Jason's place as you gave your respect to their father like you did right now. For a second your eyes stole a glance his way. He didn't miss it. With the way his gaze was locked on you, it would be impossible.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when the eye contact didn't last as Jason escorted you down to your respective seats. When Alfred left the dining room with a bow, it marked the start of the family dinner where hell would be set loose with one wrong question.

The chatter first started with you and Jason, with him asking you what you'd like. He watches his brother attentively fulfill your requests, like he once did. Everything you're doing—you've already done it with him. It was supposed to make him feel better, to know that he did that with you first. But the thought of never doing it again dawns on him.

The family dinner was going smoothly. Tim and Damian were asking how you were with medical school, Jason was taking care of your needs, and Bruce was feeling content that they were a complete family today. And there was Dick—awfully silent as the appetizer by his plate stays untouched.

Bruce calls your name, gaining everyone's attention. "You're about to receive your diploma, aren't you, sweetheart?" Their heads all turn towards you, even his. "Yes, Father. I'm getting it in a week."

Dick felt proud. You were graduating already? Time has passed by so quickly. It was also one of the reasons why you couldn't leave Gotham. Dick wouldn't forgive himself if you stopped studying just to go with him. There wasn't any school better than the one here in Gotham after all. Transferring to Bludhaven was out of the option.

"I see. Congrats, dear. Just tell me exactly when, and I'll give the executives at the hospital a recommendation paper." Your eyes widened at Bruce's words, cheeks heating up in embarrasment. 

"Ah, no need, Father. That's too much. Besides, how can I prove myself worthy if you make it easy for me to get accepted?" 

Jason laughs at you. "Worthy? Have you seen your grades? I'd look so dumb next to you, miss Valedictorian." You roll your eyes and push Jason's teasing face away from you. The shame doubles when the two other brothers clap in amazement.

"Congratulations, Big sister." Damian smiles at you.

"Congrats. You don't have to use me as your beta-reader for your thesis anymore." Tim jokes. 

Ah, you felt so loved by the brothers. "Thank yo—"

"Congratulations." Dick's voice cut through yours abruptly. The cheery atmosphere reverted back to the obvious tension in the air. The table went silent. Jason's eyes looked at yours, narrowing sadly at the way your eyes was scrambling from one place to another to prevent tears from forming.

"Thank you, Dick." You hesitated to say his name but it slipped out anyways.

It should've ended at that but it didn't sit right with Dick. What he's about to do is wrong. His conscience wasn't strong enough to stop him. 

He grabs ahold of the wine bottle and poured himself a drink. He shot one, then another, and another, and another—Dick almost finished the whole bottle by now.

You all stared as he pours the last drop of wine into his glass. Jason's hand tangled yours with his beneath the table, caressing the back of your own with his thumb. He knows you're feeling anxious at Dick's behavior. 

Dick stands up, looking flushed. He isn't used to drinking that many in a few minutes.

"I would like to make a toast to the most beautiful, talented, smart woman here." He tilts the glass your way. Bruce frowns at the situation, sending Tim a look to apprehend his brother at once. He does not want family drama on the table right now.

"Congratulations on graduating from that forsaken academy. Now, you're gonna be a full-pledged doctor just like you promised me." He points at himself, smiling like an idiot. "You used to get mad at me for saying I should be your first official patient. Am I not allowed to claim that spot now that Jason is here?" 

"Dick, that's enough—" Tim tries to make him sit down, but gets shoved away easily.

"And cheers to the new couple!" Dick walks closer with Tim desperately trying to stop him. Damian sighs and stood near you as a precaution. 

He glared at Jason, it falters when it landed on you. "I didn't think of you as a lowly brother who would dare date his brother's—" Jason stood up from his chair, gripping Dick's collar tightly.

Before things could get even more out of hand, the sound of Bruce's fist hitting the table had your heads turning his way. His face looked unpaintable with displeasure. "Don't do this at my table. If you want to kill each other—go ahead!" 

Dick lowered his head in shame, senses coming back from Bruce's outburst. He flicks Jason's arms away from him and left the room without another word. Damian and Tim went back to their chairs, head hung low as to not attract attention to themselves.

Jason looked at your alarmed face, "Don't worry. It's not your fault." he wraps his arm around your head, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. The small rubs on your shoulder eases your anxiety. If you had known Dick would be back in Gotham, you wouldn't have come here.

The solemn look on their faces tell a lot. Your presence alone brought discomfort knowing your past with Dick. Jason's voice magnetized you into looking at him. His eyes were full of warmth and affection. He's so loving that it sickens you.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'll have Roy drive you, I just need to do something here in the Manor, okay?" You nod in response.

The breeze that the night brought, felt colder than the Manor when you stepped outside. Roy was already waiting by the gate, smiling and waving at both of you. Jason softly pulled you closer, wrapping himself around you. You could feel his heart race for you. He reluctantly pulls away and bends down to your height.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'll see you tomorrow?" He bids you a small smile, patting your head while he's at it. "It's okay... Goodnight, Jay." You peck beside his lips and mirrored the smile on his face.

He watches you walk towards Roy with a smile. You wouldn't even think he was thinking of beating Dick up right now. He's full of rage, but not now. He can wait until you've left. Jason promised you after all. No fights and no violence while you're around. If Bruce didn't shout, he would've been blinded with anger.

As soon as the car left the manor, the smile was wiped away from his face. His feet walked on its own but he knew where he was going.

"Dick! You son of a bitch!" Almost immediately, Jason stormed inside Dick's room. The latter swiftly guarded himself from the incoming punch. He grunts as he tangles their arms together to stop Jason from striking.

"Dating her not enough for you? You still want to fight?" Dick mocks, breaking free from his own hold to push Jason away from him.

"That's funny coming from you. I wasn't the one embarassing myself at the family dinner."

"Bullshit. You know it's true!"

"You're this mad because I'm dating her? Move on for God's sake."

Jason's words caused Dick to pounce at him. His hands were shaking with anger as he held Jason by the collar. So what if he hasn't moved on? You were the most important person in his life. He would've been happy for you if you're dating someone else. But why did it have to be Jason?

"If you had any decency and respect as a brother, you wouldn't have dated her!" He yells in his face.

"We dated because you left her. You chose your career and left her here alone in Gotham. And if that wasn't enough for you, you fucking cheated on her!" Jason found the energy to scoff and laugh at Dick's face. 

When he felt his knuckles connect to his face, he fought back by kicking him in the stomach.

"I didn't cheat, asshole!"

"You didn't? Oh, my bad. I didn't know that she was lying when she came to me crying and breaking down in front of my door." Jason's voice was laced with sarcasm. 

"We broke up because of the distance. I left because of Bludhaven and oth—" 

"Don't fucking lie to me, Dick! Don't even try to. I know the fucking truth. Own up to your mistakes."

There was a pang in Dick's heart that made him unable to shout back.

They both resume in their fight, grabbing and grappling each other until they're struggling to catch their breaths. Jason was shaking with anger while Dick was slowly faltering from the shit he's done. It all flashes inside his mind, weakening his resolve to fight back.

"Do you even know how she couldn't even eat for days when she came back here? I bet you don't. You were too busy with that alien chick of yours, huh?" Jason's fist met with Dick's face.

 "If only I wasn't a coward. If only I confessed first, she wouldn't have been with you!"

Dick spits out the blood in his mouth, glaring daggers at Jason. He runs up to him, using the chair to give him momentum to jump and land straight at his younger brother. Dick's legs swiftly pin Jason down and punched him.

He scoffs at him. Laughing with disdain.

"Is that what this is about? You're mad at me because I was the one she confessed to? Wake up, Todd! Because even if you had loved her first, I was the one that she loved and picked—not you. You only had a chance when I left the picture!"

Jason kicks Dick off him, looking angrier than before. They both lunge at each other, grunting as they use all of their strength to overpower the other. Dick gets swept over by Jason and fell down to the ground. He groans in pain and grunts when Jason uses his forearm to keep him in place by the neck.

"So what if I did? What matters is that I'm the one she's with now. You're nothing more than a remnant of her past. Unlike you, I wouldn't waste my chance of being in her future."

Dick's eyes gleamed. Despite having his airways blocked, a crooked smile slowly starts to form on his face. It wasn't his imagination. Jason sounded unsure of what he's saying. His anger slighlty faltered at his own words.

"Do you now? I started to think otherwise when I kept catching your girlfriend stealing glances at me earlier." Dick starts to laugh at his brother's angry expression. He gained more satisfaction from it when he noticed that Jason didn't look so shocked as he thought he would.

Oh.

Is that what this it is?

"Did you really think that you'd have a place in her life when she clearly hasn't moved on either?" 

Jason picks him up from the floor and pushed him against the wall. His ferocity lacked the fire it had when he entered the room. The anger in his eyes now had sadness mixed along with it. 

"Did the thought of being a placeholder ever occur in your mind? I'm sure that's what you feel every time she's with you." Dick taunts him more. He feels Jason's grip loosen with every word until his feet were back on the floor without having to tiptoe.

"Admit it. You've noticed it too." His words sounded like the devil's whispers.

No.

It's not true.

You loved Jason. Right?

"If she did love you, you wouldn't be questioning yourself like this." 

Dick's right. But he can't make him feel the satisfaction of being right. He had no right to speak like this. Not when he fucked you over. Jason raised his fist, ready to hit again.

"That's enough. Master Bruce has had enough of the rumbling." 

Alfred enters the room with a glare. He placed a medkit in Dick's bed as he walks closer to both of them. Jason's anger dispelled with Alfred's gentle touch on his shoulder. His gaze lingers on the hand that he raised then back to Dick. It was full of blood.

He clicks his tongue in frustration and let his older brother go. The way he let go was still harsh, Dick bumped his head on the wall. Alfred quickly put his hand on Dick's chest to prevent him from picking a fight again. He shakes his head in disappointment until Jason was gone.

Jason walks down the long stairs of the manor. Millions of thoughts envading the tranquility of his mind. His body ached in several spots, caused by the strong strikes Dick inflicted on him. But somehow, the pain of knowing you couldn't move on just yet—hurt him even more. 

It was no secret that you hadn't. You confessed it several times. Jason was just persistent and stubborn. He swears to you that he doesn't mind. He swears that he still loves you. He swears that he's willing to wait until you love him back. After all, you said you'd try.

This pain was only temporary. He just need to blow off some steam.

It's alright since he'll go home to where you and Roy are like he always does. He imagines you're already waiting by the door with your own medkit, prepared to nurse your reckless boyfriend before sleeping. It was a routine at this point.

Enveloped by darkness in the security of your private space, he'll sleep in a cozy bed with you beside him—giggling and talking until you're both exhausted to speak. He'll slowly doze off into his dreams and sleep content knowing you're his. 

Jason will sleep with your voice being the last thing he hears in the night.

"Goodnight..." 

At that, he deems the day to be done and perfect.

Jason's heart basked in the sweetness of your voice. 

But some nights—you'll slip up. You don't even realize it but you don't stop at saying 'Goodnight'.

"Dick." 

Jason just has to make sure he'll sleep before he hears it. He just hopes that you don't slip up tonight.

extra scene!

Roy looks at you through his peripheral. You were so lost in thought that you hadn't spoken in 25 minutes since he fetched you at the manor. The man already had a thought in mind as to why. He'd be a fool if he didn't see Dick's bike parked outside.

He sighs, knowing how rocky your relationship with Jason was. As your mutual friend, he doesn't want both of you hurting like this. You were both destroying each other in this relationship. Roy finds you both deluded in love that you don't find it toxic to use each other like this.

"Honey..."

"Yes?" 

"Have you thought about what I said?"

You hum. "Thought about what again?"

He sighs.

"About Jason." 

Oh.

The man in question pops up in your mind. His affection back at the dinner flashes in your mind, your hand subconciously clutching itself, hard. Your throat bobs as you swallow a thick air of guilt. He's a good guy. He loves you more than anyone. It was just hard to love him back.

Your head slowly turns towards Roy, he had genuine motives for both you and Jason. He doesn't condone the toxicity, but he doesn't overstep some lines as it wasn't his problem to solve. It was something that only you and Jason could fix together. The best he could do was give guidance and options.

You think about what he said.

"Honey, don't you think that both of you will be better off as strangers?" He carefully observes your face, letting you absorb what he said before talking again. 

"Go on, live your life without any ties to the family. If you keep dating Jason for that sole reason, it won't end up good for both of you."

You've thought about it. You're aware of the pain it brings. 

Roy hears you humming again. A long silence in the car before you speak again.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

He groans in exasperation, directing his attention back to the road with a grumble. All that waiting for what? You laugh at his reaction and went back to gaze at the buildings you've grown familiar with.

But who knows... 

you're just not ready to face and leave Jason. 

Not when he looks so much like Dick.

[lufvg]

୨୧ ── Ho, who is you?

› Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

› Scenario: Dick's beloved wife comes home just in time. But something is different—Babe, why are you dressed as me?

› Notes: English is not my first language. + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + Slightly suggestive!

"Baby? I'm home!" Dick hears you enter your shared home. You were just in time! He just got back from a mission. He hasn't even taken off his suit yet.

A big smile adorned his face just by hearing your voice. His feet excitedly left the comfort of the pillows beneath them to stand up and greet you by the door. But something's different. Your voice was deeper than it usually was. That's odd.

He took slow steps towards the door—him being lost in his thoughts made him slower. If he recalled correctly, didn't you say you were going out for a while to refresh your thoughts? Being a writer meant writer's block after all. And what more could you need except a good stroll when it was bright and sunny outside?

Dick looked at the time. It was barely even 4:00 o'clock, and he swears that you left the house at least 15 minutes ago. You texted him at 3:45 P.M. 

The problem is—you, his wife of three years, wouldn't take a quick walk when you had writer's block. You'll take at least 20 minutes of walking in the park to reach your favorite spot and spend 10 minutes dozing off beneath the tree you used to hang out with Dick back in college. That's how well he knew you.

So, if his wife won't be coming home for another 15 minutes, who was inside their house? Was it a new enemy who could mimic voices? If it was, it could explain the deep voice anomaly. He knows his dear wifey had a higher octave than whatever it is that he heard.

His escrima sticks were already in his hands, ready to strike at the intruder. The thump of someone's boots on their floor was his sign to strike. 

"What the fuck?!" The voice imitator cursed at him.

Dick clicked his tongue in realization that he didn't hit flesh. It hit something as hard as his escrima. They both glared at each other—wait—is that you wearing a Nightwing suit? Wow, you even had escrimas like him.

"Baby?!"

"Babe?!"

Dick was surprised to see you wear a suit like his. Did you lie about taking a stroll and actually went to Alfred to make you a suit like his? Aw, that's cute. Dick feels himself melt at your romanticism.

"Wow, Baby, you made a suit of your own? It suits you." You feel his muscles through his suit. When did your baby get this muscular?

"It's cute that you got Alfred to make you a spare suit."

Huh?

HUUUUH?

You both look at each other quizically, giving a look that accuses the other of being wrong. Just what were the two of you saying at this point? You push yourself away from 'Dick' and walk back to take a wider look at the man in front of you. 

His muscles were more defined. 

You would know since you just saw him this morning.

Dick narrows his eyes at you. Slightly muscular build, deeper voice... Other than that, you were the same. Well, except for the fact that you're wearing a suit like his.

"Babe, quit with the jokes." He grips your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

Damn, what did you do during that 15-minute walk? How are you so toned? His fingers squeeze your waist, mesmerized at the way it feels harder than its usual softness. Dick presses his lips against your jaw. Good joke, but he can't deny the way he feels to see you in this suit.

"You look as good as me, Babe. You're a pretty version of Nightwing." He smiles against your skin. That makes you push him off you.

"What do you mean, pretty version of Nightwing? There is only one Nightwing, and it's me." You glare at Dick. You don't know what's going on with your husband, but his behavior is annoying you. Why is he acting like he doesn't know you? Does that mean, in those 3 years that you've spent as husband and wife, he still doesn't know you that well?

"Wait, wait, wait—that can't be because I'm Nightwing, honey." He cowers under your glare. Hands flying up defensively.

A silence envelops both of you, giving you both time to connect the pieces.

The looks on your faces were comical when you both figured it out.

You are not each other's Nightwing. Both of you are. Then that means your counterparts must be together right now.

"I bet they're already sharing story ideas with one another." You facepalm. 

A smile appears on your lips as you think back to your Dick happily yapping with your writer counterpart.

"You think it's another one-sided love story?" Dick asks while laughing.

You both share a look that says, "Definitely," and laugh at the cute interaction between your lovers.

Dick immediately makes way for you to the couch, curtly bowing at you as you plop down to the familiar, cozy sofa that you guys bought with your first paycheck. It was good to see that this world's Dick is as charming as your own. 

You were Dick's female counterpart but still your own person, and vice versa. The female Nightwing and her writer husband are with the male Nightwing and his writer wife. What a coincidence!

It's a mystery how this happened, though. A moment ago you were just sleeping beneath your special tree, and all of a sudden, your Dick Grayson has changed completely. Could it be...?

"Bab—ah, no, Dick, did she or, uh—did I go out for a stroll?" you ask with a tentative glance.

By your question alone, Dick could already picture what you were thinking of. He nods and thinks. If that's how you switched, then could it also be the way to switch back?

But... Not now, you wanted to learn more of this version of you and Dick.

As soon as he opened his mouth to ask another set of questions, you both knew this was going to be a long night. It went on and on until you both fell asleep on the couch. Dick's head slumped against your shoulder.

He let out a yelp when he felt his head slipping from you, and his body followed after. Dick fell on the ground with a loud thud, waking you up. With half-lidded eyes, Dick could still look clearly with one eye. The familiar colors of black and blue that were beside him were gone and instead replaced by your usual civilian colors.

Dick's eyes shot wide open at your return. "Babe, I missed you!" Your face is instantly pampered with his pecks. You groggily push him away, still not in your right mind. His hands slip down to your waist and squeeze there, tickling you in the process, fully waking you up.

He groans, "I missed your softness here..." Dick whispers in your ear. You chuckle in response.

Dick missed the way your fingers would thread through his hair like this. Apparently, you were the one receiving this in your counterpart's world, as per what your counterpart said to him earlier. Dick, being the gentleman that he is, offered his fingers to her.

"Yeah! Your counterpart offered it to me as well—ugh, Dick, how could you not tell me how it feels after all this time?" You pout at him.

Dick laughs and pulls you closer. "Wanna know what else I learned?" you hum in response.

He bites your earlobe and smirks against it. "Our kinks are reversed as well."

Your eyes shot wide open at the discovery.

Ah, so in their worlds, 'Nightwing' will always be the dominant one.

[lufvg]

Credit: @pmkn2.0 on tt

[lufvg]

Yandere Bruce Wayne: "Mine." holds darling close to his chest.

Clark Kent: "A human being is not an—" looks at darling.

Yandere Clark Kent: "Mine, not yours."