“Jack, sweetheart, why are you doing that?”

Your husband pauses, furrows his brow, then says as though it is the least perplexing thing in this world, “Shaving.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Yes, Jack. I can see that you're shaving."

His face pinches, "Uh, okay." Jack lifts the razor back up, shaving a thick line on one shaving cream-covered pec. "Why are you–?"

"Your chest, Jack," you say slowly, spelling it out for your husband, a man who is too dull for his own good sometimes. "Why are you shaving your chest?"

Jack looks sincerely shocked by your question. He sets the razor down on the counter, "Because it's hairy."

You almost lose your balance. Your hand shoots out to brace yourself on the kitchen counter, "Your chest... is hairy?"

Jack Abbot, the man with the smoothest torso you've ever seen, has chest hair? Fuck that! The man you married has chest hair?

"Yeah," he says as you spiral further and further. Then, as though it explains everything, "I'm an Abbot."

"Jack, please listen to me," you say, trying dearly to keep your voice even. "I'm willing to forgive you keeping this from me throughout three years of marriage, but I swear on your life that if a razor ever touches those tits again, I will be serving you divorce papers."

Your bunny hybrid boyfriend, who gets horny when scared

bunny hybrid!boyfriend x human!gn!Reader Good to know: dry humping, pathetic bf Your bunny hybrid boyfriend, who gets horny when scared, is already rutting against you when you wake up.

It’s the middle of the night, and the storm outside is loud and mean. Rain slams against the window, its steady downpour echoes through the dark, and a flash of lightning paints the room white just for a heartbeat when your eyes blink open.

"Babe?"

Your boyfriend is pressed up tight to your back. You can feel his whole body trembling as he spoons you from behind. His cock grinds slowly against your ass. He moves in slow, desperate little thrusts like he can’t help himself.

You blink again. "Babe?"

He whimpers but doesn’t stop. "I- I’m sorry," he whispers. "I tried. I really tried to stay still- fuck- I couldn’t-" A thunder cracks through the sky like a whip, shaking the house and making him choke on his words. "I just- please-" He pushes harder against you, hips jerking in frantic motions. "Just let me. Just for a second. I can’t- just for a bit- please-"

And how could you say no to your sweet, terrified little bunny?

You press your ass back into him. Just a little. Just enough to make him gasp. Just enough to knock the breath out of him as his hips start to push against you harder and faster. There is no rhythm in it. No thought. His cock leaks through the fabric of both your clothes with every pathetic thrust.

"You needy little thing," you tease him, low and amused. You know he is close. You can feel it from the way his hips stutter mid-grind before picking up again, even more frantic than before. "Humping me like a fucking toy. That it?"

He lets out a pitiful sound, a half-sob, half-yes. "Y-yeah," he stammers. "Fuck, yes-" His breath comes in broken little pants, one after another, fanning over the back of your neck. He jerks wildly as he spills over and over, like he doesn’t know how to stop. You can feel the warmth of it seeping through your pajama pants.

For a second, you think he is done.

"…Can I do it again?"

Includes: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Wally West, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent and John Constantine

Warnings: Reader is implied to be able to get pregnant, however I'm all for them being dumb enough to think they've managed even if it's not possible so you decide lol <3 Beside that, no real warnings, mostly fluffy and humorous.

Morph's thoughts: Hii everyone, this is my first dc comics fic AND first text!au fic ever :) I'm still trying to find everyone's "texting voices" and doing a bit of a trial and error with the formating of the screen shots, so if you have any feedback it's more than welcome!!

Comments and reblogs are welcome and encouraged <3 Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai / © gothamorphosis 2026 all rights reserved

the price of keeping - damian wayne

request reader who acts as a healer for the team, and their ability on paper [and seemingly in practice] is just that they can heal anybody, no matter the damage or cause, except their power actually works by stealing the wound and inflicting it upon themselves. they can take any pain, mental, chronic, sometimes even emotional depending on circumstances and the degree of it. no one knows until they take on something far too bad: losing a limb, breaking their spine, guts spilling out, etc.

content gn! reader x damian wayne, healer! reader, reader gets hurt, aged-up adult damian wayne, severe injury, traumatic limb injury/near-amputation, blood, pain transfer, self-sacrificial healing, medical trauma, guilt, panic, league of assassins trauma references, emotional distress, anger after consent violation, angst with hurt/comfort

masterlist | word count 8.4k

Damian Wayne had been taught that a body was a weapon before he had ever been allowed to think of it as his own.

Hands were for blades. Feet were for balance. Bones were structure. Blood was consequence. Pain was instruction. A body was sharpened, trained, corrected, punished, and improved. A body was not precious. A body was not sacred. A body was not something one wept over unless its failure cost the mission.

Then he came to Gotham.

Gotham taught him many things. It taught him that rain could feel like grief made weather. It taught him that family was a battlefield where no one drew a blade and everyone still left wounded. It taught him that his father could love him deeply and still fail to say it in any language Damian understood. It taught him that Grayson’s hugs were inescapable, Todd’s anger was often fear wearing steel-toed boots, Drake’s silence was rarely empty, and Pennyworth could end a war with one raised eyebrow.

It taught him that bodies could be held. Bandaged. Fed. Carried to bed when sleep finally won.

It taught him that pain was not always a lesson. Sometimes it was only pain.

Then there was you.

⤷ ゛Finding out something new about Peter when he cums .ˎˊ˗ - BND SPOILERS

FKED-up n high

…jabbers high off his mind, out freaking you— in midst of what was supposed to be a training session soon turns into a fuck session…art credits [kurtiness on tumblr]

…cuming untouched…dry!humping…rough!fucking…mean!reader…hate!fucking…masochist!Jabber…

…JABBER…

“Hmm…hehe— we should—uh…let’s fuckkk” eyes lolling back as he mindlessly giggled into your neck, cheeks stained red from takin hits, a pout then a sniffle “still hurts y’knowwww— freak.—shit.”

You thought a harsh kick to the stomach would bring the bumbling fool back, but all you got in return were muffled giggles “fuckkk.. I’m so hard righttt now… wanna do it?” again with the requests, this wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. The same thing as always. He’d ask to train, ask for a fight, n it’d always end up with you on top of him, his fucked up face stuffed into the dirt.

Sitting on top of him, you could tell he wasn’t exactly..lying. “shit— you’re so fucking weird” your attempts at swiftly getting up were halted as he wrapped his legs around you, the sides of his torn up thighs encasing you,

hips jerkin up to you, or atleast— trying to, in his tired state n with your whole weight on him it was harder then usual- ‘SLAP’

“Mhm-“ a harsh jerk of his neck, his eyes flashing with surprise he grabbed your wrist, the hand that marked his cheek, you were fed up with his antics, his face stayed pressed against the dirt as his hazy eyes stared into yours his teeth bitting into his lips “harder.”

”you’re fuckin crazy.” Anger had your hands wrapped around his neck, his breath hitching as he threw his head back “fuucckkkk” a chocked out sound. hand digging into the dirt as the one on your wrist pressed into your flesh. Fingers digging into your skin.

“You like this dontcha’ fuckin whore.” His hips pushed up trying to find some friction but with his head in the clouds and you already having done a number on him it was an effort that remained unreciprocated. “hmm.. yeahhh— fuckkk”

his eyes rolled back as droll seeped down the sides of his mouth opening and closing like a fish, desperate for air. Blood seeped down your hands as his fingers continued digging into them, your flesh buried under his nails

Your fingers tightened against his neck, veins popping, those incoherent mumbling of his came to a stop, jaw slack, his fingers stilled their digging— did he just cum??? Looking down, there was a large wet spot on his pants, slimy globs of cum seeped through his pants and stuck to you. “Fucking disgusting.”

slapping his face to the other side, all he could do was giggle, childlike giggles muffled by the hands on his throat he gasped for air. With one final squeeze you let him go, watching as he gasped for air, chest rising up and down erratically, deep red hand prints were left on his neck already bruising. The hand that had buried itself in the dirt now waved around in search of something to grab onto, so you relented, grabbing his distressed hand, letting your fingers intertwine, with a sting you freed your other hand away from his grip, your blood stained hands went up to his face. Wiping away the tears that had welled up,

he nudged for you to come closer, apprehensively lowering your head all for him to whisper “admit it, you’re just as much a freak as me” then followed by those stupid fucking giggles of his. you should’ve just chocked him to death— maybe next time…?

Has Robby always been this broad?

You quietly ask yourself the question of the hour as Michael Robinavitch nestles himself between your legs. They're thrown wide, thighs burning as you're forced to accommodate his mass. You've always known your attending was a big man, tall and with a solid weight to him, seen in his wide shoulders and thick arms.

This, however, is something else entirely, because scrubs apparently do an incredible job of blurring the lines. Robby is large, clearly muscular and with a comforting layer of fat all around, and with him so close in front of you, all you can think about is just how much of him there is.

"What're you looking at?" Robby teases, crawling up your body. You feel dizzy staring up at him, feeling the reach of his thighs across your hips as he straddles you.

"Robby... you're just..." You shake your head in disbelief as Robby leans down. His upper body covers yours as he leans down to kiss your ear. His chest hair is soft, tickling the bare skin of your own chest as you squeak, "You're big, baby."

His lips still, and Robby pulls away. For a moment, you're afraid that your words came out wrong, that you've offended him, but when Robby's face comes into view, he's smirking.

"I'm big?" He asks, raising an arm to rest it on the wall above you. Of course, you take the bait, staring at the length of him stretched over you. "You like that, baby?"

You bite your lip, nodding. Robby opens his mouth. You hear what he says in theory, but you don't comprehend it on account of being too busy staring at his thick arm and wondering what it would feel like around your neck when he's fucking you.