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⚔︎ toji reeally likes your thighs - 5:28 pm

the familiar keys jingling & currently being thrusted into the keyhole are enough to make you perk up from where you sat at on the couch that swallowed you.

“‘m home, sweetheart.” someone’s had a long day, judging by the sunken, navy eyes & the gruff tone in his voice that makes it sound like a growl with every word.

“hi, i missed you.” you’re immediately met with the sight of him plopping down with his back towards you, scooching back until he feels your shins. your head tilts in confusion as he hooks his hands around your calves & lifts them onto his shoulders where your knees rested.

“…you okay?”

“long day.”

that’s when you feel him lean his head back between the doughy flesh of your thighs & a pressure from his hands against the sides of your knees, is he squishing his head?

you chuckle from the tickle of the tips of his silky hair against your lap.

“weirdo, what are you doing?”

he snorts at the name & leans his head against your left thigh gently, his eyes shut in exhaustion.

“so now i’ma weirdo for being between my girls legs?”

“no,..you’re a weirdo for squishing your head with them!”

“oh, so a weirdo for loving my girls thighs?”

“…ugh”

he feels you lean back against the couch, taking it as a sign of victory for him in your little ‘weirdo battle’ & he sinks deeper between your thighs, sighing at the soft cushioning.

he’s unaware of the soft gaze from behind him, but it shows through your fingers which now gently scratch at his scalp, earning a grumble from him. “fuck, baby..”

it’s almost funny with how fast he manages to sleep, judging by the limp tilt of his head which now feel 2 pounds heavier against you & the soft snores that emerge from his parted lips. so cute.

“sleep well, baby. okay?”

you softly chuckle at his peaceful state & swipe a hand under his bangs to pull it back & you place a kiss on his forehead as if he wasn’t a six foot something sorcerer who kills people for a living, but the most delicate thing made of glass.

and to you, he was. but that’s only for you to see!

a/n 🤤🤤

nonchalantfeminist

⚔︎ toji reeally likes your thighs - 5:28 pm

the familiar keys jingling & currently being thrusted into the keyhole are enough to make you perk up from where you sat at on the couch that swallowed you.

“‘m home, sweetheart.” someone’s had a long day, judging by the sunken, navy eyes & the gruff tone in his voice that makes it sound like a growl with every word.

“…you okay?”

“long day.”

that’s when you feel him lean his head back between the doughy flesh of your thighs & a pressure from his hands against the sides of your knees, is he squishing his head?

you chuckle from the tickle of the tips of his silky hair against your lap.

“weirdo, what are you doing?”

he snorts at the name & leans his head against your left thigh gently, his eyes shut in exhaustion.

“so now i’ma weirdo for being between my girls legs?”

“no,..you’re a weirdo for squishing your head with them!”

“oh, so a weirdo for loving my girls thighs?”

“…ugh”

he feels you lean back against the couch, taking it as a sign of victory for him in your little ‘weirdo battle’ & he sinks deeper between your thighs, sighing at the soft cushioning.

he’s unaware of the soft gaze from behind him, but it shows through your fingers which now gently scratch at his scalp, earning a grumble from him. “fuck, baby..”

it’s almost funny with how fast he manages to sleep, judging by the limp tilt of his head which now feel 2 pounds heavier against you & the soft snores that emerge from his parted lips. so cute.

“sleep well, baby. okay?”

and to you, he was. but that’s only for you to see!

a/n 🤤🤤

froggibus

— Tim's Breeding Kink

-> smut/nsfw, afab! reader (has a pussy, no pronouns used), unprotected sex, requested

tonycries

Hey, Venom Boy! - C.K.

Synopsis. Venom’s had enough of his host’s racing heartbeat and tíghtening pants around you. So he does what any good symbiote would do - help Choso lose his vírginíty, of course!

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Venom!Choso, best-friends-to-Iovers, PlNING, héats, he has tattoos and piercings, Venom in bold, first times (for Choso), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, oraI (fem. rec), spítting, ínappropríate use of the symbiote, LONG tongues, ríding, dúmbifícation, making it fit, size kínk, tummy buIges, creampíes, cúmplay, MARATHONS, matíng presses, overstím, squírting, cúmming dry, proposals, biting marks, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. Inspired by this ask and this post by the lovely @/screampied.

“You like her.”

“Shut up.”

“You want to fu-”

“Shut up.”

“Heh- loser.”

And Choso was genuinely contemplating smashing his head against the nearest wall, if only it would yank out that damn parasite- “Oi, I can hear you.” -he had the misfortune of picking up.

Weeks - though, it felt like years - weeks since he’d wandered into his usual hiding spot at the abandoned Lady of Saint’s Church for a moment of peace and quiet; except, he wasn’t alone that day. Too busy poring over yet another sketch of your dazzling smile to notice-

“Your pulse rate spiked- you’re thinking of her, boy. You want her.”

But it’d been weeks since he’d had peace and quiet after this…alien symbiote had forcibly attached itself to his body that day.

And the worst part was that he wasn’t even wrong.

“S-so what?” Choso hisses out. “She deserves better than me anyway.” Wincing at the sheer predatory amusement in Venom’s voice as he purrs—

“I have a plan…”

kenpisces

⤷ ゛sukuna desperately trying to get the hot lifeguard’s attention using his nephew yuuji. you, the lifeguard, are not very impressed. ˎˊ˗

the sun was a merciless bastard, baking the sand until it shimmered. you, perched high on your lifeguard stand, were the only relief in sight. sunglasses perched on your nose, whistle glinting, you were the undisputed ruler of this stretch of beach and sukuna, sprawled on a towel like a lazy lion, was utterly captivated.

he’d been watching you for an hour. the way you scanned the water, the authoritative tilt of your head, the way your sun-kissed skin looked in that red swimsuit. he needed to have you. but you were a quite literally blind to his want and every attempt to get your attention had failed.

“oi, brat,” he grunted, nudging the pink-haired teenager next to him with a foot. yuuji, who had been happily building a rather lopsided sandcastle, looked up, sand clinging to his nose.

“what, uncle sukuna?” yuuji asked, squinting.

“see that lifeguard?” sukuna didn’t point, just jerked his chin in your direction. “i need her to notice me.”

yuuji blinked. “so… go talk to her?”

“don’t be a simpleton,” sukuna scoffed. “she’s too focused on her job. we need to create a distraction. maybe an emergency.”

yuuji’s eyes widened, immediately darting to the calm ocean. “a real one? is someone drowning?”

“no, you imbecile. a fake one.” sukuna’s eyes glinted with a terrible plan. “you. you’re going to pretend to drown.”

yuuji’s face fell. “what? no! that’s mean! and what if i actually get in trouble?”

“you won’t,” sukuna said, his voice brooking no argument. “it’s shallow. just flail around a bit. act pathetic. it’s your specialty.”

“it is not my specialty!” yuuji protested, but sukuna had already grabbed him by the back of his swim trunks and was dragging him toward the water.

“just do it, you little shit. or i’ll tell your mother about the time you tried to use her good kimono as a cape.”

yuuji groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. “fine! but you owe me. like, a lot of ice cream.”

he waded into the water, looking back with a look of pure, theatrical dread. then, with a sigh that could be heard from the shore, he started flailing his arms and yelling in the most unconvincing way possible. “oh no! help! i am… drowning! augh! water!”

sukuna watched, ignoring the urge to cover his face with secondhand embarrassment eating him alive, in favour of waiting for you. but you didn’t move much, leaned forward in your seat and when you saw yuuji standing and then deliberately falling in, you just gave a slow, irritated shake of your head, and went back to scanning the horizon. your expression was clear: nice try, kid.

sukuna couldn’t even blame you.

“useless,” sukuna snarled under his breath. yuuji stopped flailing, a look of utter humiliation on his face as he walked back to the shore, dripping and defeated.

“she didn’t buy it!” yuuji whined.

“gee i wonder why,” sukuna deadpanned as he slapped the back of yuuji’s head. he walked over to the edge of the water where yuuji stood, then, without a word, he shoved his nephew squarely in the chest. yuuji, caught completely off guard, toppled backward with a surprised squawk and a dramatic splash, landing in a shallow dip that was, admittedly, just a little deeper than he was tall.

“hey!” yuuji’s head broke the surface, coughing and sputtering for real this time, his eyes wide with genuine panic. “what was that for?!”

but sukuna was already looking up at your stand, a smug, expectant grin on his face. now, he thought. now she has to come.

he saw you sigh with profound annoyance written on your face. you slid down the side of your stand and began walking toward the water. sukuna’s heart did a triumphant little flip. finally.

you strode past him, not even sparing him a glance. you walked straight into the water, up to your waist, and hooked a strong arm around confused yuuji and guided him back to shore.

as you deposited him safely on the sand, you finally turned to sukuna, your gaze sharp and icy. you leaned in, the smell of coconut sunscreen and salt water filling his senses, making him feel dizzy for a reason that had nothing to do with the sun. his plan was working… wasn’t it?

“did you just seriously push him in?” you asked, your voice even.

sukuna’s grin only widened. he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. “i just wanted to get your attention. you’re a very hard woman to distract.”

“i’m a lifeguard,” you said flatly. “it’s my job to see through bullshit.”

“then you must see i’m serious,” sukuna said, his red eyes locked on yours. “the kid’s fine. i wouldn’t actually hurt him.” he offered a dismissive wave at yuuji, who was currently trying to cough up a lung on the sand behind them. “he’s tougher than he looks. the point is, i got you down here. and since you’re here, how about we skip the near-drowning and you just let me take you out for a drink?”

you stared at him, a storm of irritation swirling in your eyes. your lips pressed into a thin line.

“you are an ass,” you said, poking a finger into the center of his chest. sukuna resisted the urge to grip your wrist in his hand.

sukuna’s grin was utterly insufferable. “and you’re hot. so, what do you say?”

yuuji, finally recovered, scrambled to his feet. “uncle sukuna! i’m telling mom you tried to drown me!”

“shut up, yuuji,” sukuna said without looking away from you. “can’t you see i’m in the middle of something?”

you crossed your arms, your gaze flickering from his arrogant smirk to yuuji’s indignant, pouty face.

“you guys look weirdly identical.”

“no, he’s uglier.” “no, he’s uglier!” yuuji and sukuna both say in unison.

a small, reluctant smile finally tugged at the corner of your lips. you shook your head, the fight draining out of you. yes, he was an absolute menace, but he was also, infuriatingly, very, very charming. he’s been told so many times.

“one drink,” you said, holding up a finger. “and if you try to drown anyone else to get my attention, i’m having you banned from the beach. permanently.”

sukuna’s smile was triumphant. “agreed. i only need one chance.” he glanced over at yuuji. “see, kid? patience is a virtue.”

“you pushed me into the water!” yuuji yelled.

“whatever, loser,” he turned back to you, his expression softening into something almost genuine. “what’s your name, pretty?”

you told him, along with your number, and then you walked back to your stand, the whistle swinging against your chest. sukuna watched you go, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. he’d gotten what he wanted, after all.

mayhemi

♯ riding jason todd's abs

18+, ab-riding, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweet girl)

YOU'RE DRAGGING your leaking, aching cunt across the hard lines of his torso until a squelching sound emits with every movement of your hips. he's simply laying there, an amused smirk playing at his lips as a result of your desperate whimpers. this usually happens when he's too tired or injured after patrol to fuck you in the way you crave.

"such a needy girl, huh?" he teases, resting two heavy, calloused hands on the fat of your hips. "jesus-" he huffs a low, gravely chuckle, entertained by just how much you're leaking. "makin' a goddamn mess, baby" he tuts, admiring the glistening slick smeared across his front.

you're so close, the friction of his firm, warm skin against your sensitive clit is making your nails dig in to his pecs. he knows when you're close before you do, always kept track of the way your body nearly loses control.

"you gonna cum like this?" he asks, "don't even need my help, huh?" he cups your cheek, making you lock eyes with him as your grinding grows sloppier. you couldn't care less about the embarrassment anymore, it's so intoxicating getting off on him like this, all while he sits back and watches.

your pathetic noises only grow louder with each grind, with each swipe of your pussy across his abs. "j-jay– m'gonna cum" you breathe out, clenching your eyes shut. you can feel his clothed, throbbing cock, probably making a sticky mess in his pants with pre-cum, pressing against your ass every time you move, a sign that he's getting off on this just as much as you are.

"i know, babygirl" he coos, leaning up slightly to press soft, fluttering kisses to your neck. "you can let go f'me, sweet girl" he purrs, brushing the hair from your flushed face and simply admiring the way your expression is twisted in pleasure. his precious girl, using him to get off.

your breath hitches when your orgasm finally comes crashing over you, leaving you twitching against him. he holds you through your high as you cry out, his name heavy on your tongue. he's bucking his hips up, trying to get in any last stimulation before you collapse against him, exhausted. "there we go" he speaks softly, gently, as if he's coddling you.

"you feel better? hm?" he asks, "not so needy now, i bet." he chuckles lowly, and you're too fucked out to retort back. a calm settles in your bones as he holds you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and kissing the crown of your head. he'll make sure to take care of you properly once you've both rested.

lilbachi

PERVERT! ft. hakkai shiba, haruchiyo sanzu, kazutora hanemiya (+ yuzuha shiba cameo) ♡

mdni, afab! reader (no pronouns mentioned). reader is sapphic in hakkai's. DARK CONTENT (nonconsensual voyeurism and filming, stalking, break-in, some victim(?)-blaming in tora's), somno (mention only).

perv! hakkai, who knows it's all sorts of wrong to lust after his sister's best friend, but he can't help it– you're just so cool. you even helped set up his big sister's fan club at school. he took it upon himself to ask mitsuya for advice on how to approach you, the poor baby, but he knew in his heart that he'd never muster up the courage to ask you out. that's how hakkai found himself with his ear pressed to yuzuha's bedroom door while you were over hanging with her, listening intently for the sweet sound of your voice with his hand wrapped around his thick cock, his other hand tightly clamped around his mouth as he tried to get himself off quickly as to not get caught. this would just have to be his little secret!!! now, imagine the surprise when he hears you moaning on the other side of the door– his big sister's name on your lips, no less!

perv! sanzu, who's been obsessed with you since the day you told him to fuck off. what can he say– he's always wanted what he can't have (oh, haruchiyo, what will we do with you...). he couldn’t help but stalk you, talking creep shots of you from afar when he knew you weren't looking (canon... have we seen that pic of sanzu pulling his phone out at mikey from the alley? lil fuckin' freak :p). his camera roll is full of flics of you, and the worst part is he's not ashamed of it in the slightest. that quick (and mildly embarrassing) tumble down the stairs he had to take just to snap a shot of the little lace panties from under your short skirt was so worth it, by the way. anything to get a look at the shape of that pretty, perfect pussy.

perv! kazutora, whose been putting those breaking-in skills to good use. he can’t deny it; there’s an endorphin rush he gets every time he sneaks into your bedroom, especially while you’re sleeping so softly, your body just a crumpled mess in the sheets. he likes to rummage through your laundry basket for your dirty panties and take them like souvenirs. you can bet the desperate boy holds them up to his nose and takes a good, deep sniff while he clumsily fists his cock late at night to the thought of you sleeping serenely– and as much as i hate to say it, each soiled pair goes right back in your dirty laundry pile after because he’s convinced you would have stopped him sooner if you didn’t want him sneaking around you this way. i mean... you must know he's got the hots for you, right?

mayhemi

♯ riding jason todd's abs

18+, ab-riding, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweet girl)

rawme-price

Thinking about ghost who never realized what dom-drop is despite always being a dom...

Truthfully, ghost doesn't know anything about kink. What he knows he learned in shitty divebars or in the back alleys with strangers that felt like every wrong decision. Spent his time rutting into people he met hours before, hands around throats or blades to skin between growled insults.

He learned he had to take care of them afterwards, that part came naturally. Ghost never had anyone take care of him.

He knew, deep down, that he was the sick thing. For wanting to hurt people, for getting off on it. Of course no one asked if he was okay, he was the one who hurt them when they asked, not the other way around.

Then you come along and you're different from the others.

You talk to ghost days in advance, ask him what he's comfortable with and purse your lips when he rattles off a list of everything he's done. When you take ghost to bed, it's different. It's good.

Intense is the only way he can describe it. Intense and intimate and real, your skin beneath his hands and your blood pooling into a fresh bruise. It's precision and connection and euphoria with you beneath his hands.

When it's over, ghost is already drawing away.

He knows what comes next. The anger, the shame. The disgust with himself for every enjoying such a thing, for allowing him to believe you wanted it too.

"Hey, hey, si–" soft hands break him out of it, forcing ghost to look at you. Your cheek will surely bruise tomorrow, but your voice is tender when you say "thank you. You did good."

"Wh— what—?" Ghost furrows his brow, stomach rolling.

"Thank you. You did right by me. I loved it." You press a kiss to his nose, then wince when you stand up "help me run the bath, yeah? I think it's big enough for us both."

Later, when ghost is snuggled against you in bed still warm from the shower, he'll think oh. This is it, huh?

This is that warm good feeling everyone online talks about. That feeling of belonging and love. Ghost kisses the back of your neck, and for once he doesn't question if he deserves to touch you after everything he did.

of-many-fandomss

Jason Todd, who’s in love with you long before he ever knows it. Who knows your exact coffee order by heart, but that’s normal enough, right? He insists on walking or driving you to and from wherever you have to go, but that’s just because he’s a good guys who would make sure anybody was safe. He always pays for anything you want whenever you’re out together- even when you get fed up and snap at him that you can do it yourself- but what use is his money if it’s not being spent on someone as good as you? He knows the second he sees you what kind of mood you’re in because even if he isn’t always the best at reading or managing his emotions, he would know what you’re feeling the second he glanced at you. But this is all normal, right? It doesn’t actually mean anything.

hauntedhouseofhorrors

worth the wait ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ jason todd

word count: 1.4k+

warnings: nsfw ― mdni, reader is anatomically female, brief dry humping, female masturbation, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, sexual fantasies, implied penetrative sex, mild language

check out my other work here! | join my taglist here!

it was supposed to be a lazy morning. no work, no elaborate plans, save for a night out with your friends later on. you and jason were simply lying in bed, wrapped up in each other like usual.

his lips found the skin of your neck with ease, slowly dragging the fabric of your t-shirt down your shoulder to kiss the newly exposed flesh. you weren't sure how you ended up on your back with his lips peppering warm kisses across your skin and his hips lazily rutting into your core, but hell, who would dare to complain about this hunk of a man on top of them?

catbayunthestoryteller

Present and accounted for

Pairing: Tim Drake x f!reader

Summary: Tim likes...monitoring and failsafe measures in a relationship. But he's also down bad. Warnings: Tim's stalker tendencies?

You learned very quickly that the public perception of Tim Drake was a lie.

Or not a lie, exactly. Just a half-truth, like most things about him.

To the world, Tim Drake was the polite one. The reasonable one. The Robin who grew up into Red Robin without breaking too loudly. He was the kid genius, the awkward genius, the one who spoke too fast when he got excited.

Tim Drake loved quietly in public.

He loved like a complete menace in private.

From the beginning, you had been…remarkably unbothered by the vigilante thing. That alone seemed to short-circuit something in his brain.

You didn’t flinch when he disappeared out of your window at midnight. You didn’t panic when he came back bruised. You didn’t ask him to stop. You asked if he wanted soup or silence.

That, more than anything, convinced him you were dangerous to his sanity.

He introduced you to his family carefully, like he was afraid you might spook. Bruce, who watched you like he watched everything. Alfred, who decided he liked you immediately and made sure you were never without tea. Dick, who clocked the intensity in Tim’s eyes within minutes and raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Jason, who smirked and muttered something about “finally.” Cass, who studied you, then leaned against you like a cat choosing a favorite chair.

You fit. Too well.

So Tim did what Tim always did when something mattered.

He planned.

It started small enough that you didn’t question it.

A package waiting for you at the end of the week. A scarf, absurdly soft. A book you’d mentioned once in passing, a specific edition you hadn’t even realized existed. A pair of boots that fit perfectly, like he’d measured you while you slept.

“You didn’t have to,” you told him the third time it happened.

“I wanted to,” he said easily, eyes bright behind his glasses. “You survived another week. That deserves a reward.”

You laughed, assuming it was a joke.

It wasn’t.

By the time you realized the gifts had become routine, it was already normal. Expected. End-of-week offerings like a ritual he refused to skip. If you protested, he only smiled and kissed your knuckles and said, “Let me take care of you.”

You let him.

You let him do a lot of things.

Your phone buzzed constantly with check-ins, not demanding, never accusatory. Just Tim being Tim. Home safe? Did you eat? Text me when you leave. Your location was shared automatically, a quiet little icon that pulsed on his screen wherever he was.

Once, you forgot your phone on the kitchen counter.

By the time you realized and went back for it, Tim was already there.

Not waiting in the doorway. Pacing inside.

“You didn’t answer,” he said, voice too level.

“I left it inside,” you said, holding it up. “It was on mute.”

His hands came up to your face like he needed to anchor himself. He breathed you in, slow and shaky, then kissed your forehead too hard.

“I don’t like not knowing where you are,” he said softly.

You threaded your fingers through his hair. “I’m right here.”

That helped. Some.

The locket came a week later.

It was beautiful, antique gold, delicate engraving. Inside was a photo of the two of you, taken candidly, your head tipped back in laughter, Tim looking at you like you were the moon.

You wore it without hesitation.

You didn’t notice the tiny tracker tucked beneath the photo.

The teddy bear came after that.

It was ridiculous, oversized, soft, clearly expensive. Tim pretended it was a joke, shrugged when you raised an eyebrow.

“Something to keep you company when I’m not around,” he said.

You hugged it. It smelled like him, he had sprayed his cologne on it. You slept with it tucked under your chin, fingers curled into its fur.

Tim watched from a camera hidden behind one of its eyes.

Not like a stranger would. Not like something cruel.

He watched the way you breathed when you slept, the way you murmured when you rolled over, the way you clutched the bear tighter when your dreams grew restless. He watched because you were beautiful when you forgot to guard yourself. Because knowing you were safe made his chest settle.

Sometimes, your sleepy sounds pulled something darker from him. Something needy and sharp and wanting. His hand would slip under his pants.

He never told you that part.

What he did tell you, he told you shamelessly.

“I think about you constantly,” he said one night, sprawled on your bed, bo staff leaning against the wall. “Like, clinically. If I brought it up to a therapist they’d prescribe something.”

“You already have a therapist.”

“She’s very proud of my coping mechanisms.”

You rolled your eyes. He caught your wrist, tugged you closer, grin crooked and dangerous.

“You know,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, “sometimes I wish I could just crawl inside you and sleep there. No noise. No distractions. Just you.”

You stared at him. “Tim.”

“I know,” he said cheerfully. “Unhinged. I’ve accepted it.”

In bed, he was worse.

Teasing. Patient. A menace with a smile.

He praised you like it was his job and ruined you with it anyway, voice low and intent, eyes never leaving your face. Every sound you made felt like it belonged to him.

When you tried to hide your reactions, he only tilted his head, amused.

“Louder,” he told you, thumb warm where it rested on your clit. “Make it pretty for me. I know I taught you better than that.”

The way he said it, half pride, half mockery, made heat curl low in your stomach.

He let you handle his gear, his weapons, his staff. He watched the way your hands wrapped around the smooth length of it, the focus in your eyes.

Possession, with Tim, was never about control for its own sake. It was about certainty. About knowing. About making sure nothing, no one, could take you from him without going through hell first.

When you curled around that ridiculous teddy bear at night, Tim Drake smiled into the dark, utterly undone, already planning what he’d give you next.

Despite him enjoying being a menace, he'd melt at praise.

The first time you caught it, you’d been standing in your kitchen, surrounded by groceries you hadn’t remembered asking for. He was unpacking them with brisk efficiency, already organizing your pantry like he lived there.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you’d said, gentle, automatic.

He froze. Just for a fraction of a second. Something tight passed behind his eyes.

So you tried again, without thinking too hard about it.

“Thank you, babe,” you said instead. “That was really sweet. You’re so thoughtful.”

The effect was immediate and catastrophic.

Tim went still like he’d been struck by lightning, shoulders slowly creeping up toward his ears. His mouth opened, then closed. His ears went pink. Then red.

“Oh,” he said, faintly.

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

He nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah. Totally. Fine.”

But his hands shook for the rest of the evening, and when you kissed him goodbye, he clung to you like you were oxygen.

You tested the theory the next week.

Another end-of-week gift, this time a necklace that matched the locket perfectly, understated and elegant, exactly your taste. You didn’t protest. You stepped into his space instead, cupped his face, and smiled.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “You’re so good to me.”

Tim made a sound. A small, helpless one.

From that moment on, it was over for him.

You learned quickly how easy it was to undo him. A little praise, warm and sincere, and he was gone. Eyes bright, smile soft and stunned, devotion written so clearly across his face it almost hurt to look at.

If he’d had a tail, it would have been wagging.

He fetched things for you without hesitation. A glass of water. Your sweater. The charger you’d left in another room. All you had to do was sigh or mutter about inconvenience, and he was already moving.

And when you thanked him he went pliant.

Physical affection turned him into something boneless. You’d learned that too.

You’d pull him down onto the couch, straddle his lap, and kiss him slowly. His hands would hover at your waist like he didn’t trust himself to touch. You’d pepper his face with soft kisses, cheek, temple, jaw, until he melted, nuzzling into you like he needed to be held together.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch.

He whined. A small, needy sound he didn’t even try to hide.

“You’re so cute when you help me,” you murmured once, smiling against his mouth.

Tim buried his face in your neck and breathed you in like he might cry from it.

He needed reassurance the way some people needed sleep.

Sometimes it slipped out of him late at night, when you were tangled together in hoodies and sheets, the city quiet beyond the windows.

“You won’t leave me, right?” he asked once, voice carefully casual in a way that fooled no one. “I already…I already have everything planned.”

You stilled, listening.

“We’ll live in a big house,” he continued, words tumbling faster now. “Not like my parents’ place. It won’t be miserable. It’ll be warm. Lived-in. You can have whatever room you want. I’ll buy you all the pretty clothes and jewelry you like, but inside we’ll just wear old hoodies because that’s better. And...and if you don’t want biological kids, that’s fine, I’ll get a vasectomy, it’s not a big deal...”

“Tim,” you said gently, lifting your head.

He stopped instantly, eyes wide, searching your face for alarm.

You cupped his cheek. “Hey. Pause.”

His shoulders slumped, shame flickering across his features. “Sorry. I just...”

“I know,” you said, kissing his nose. “I love that you’re serious. I do. I just need you to breathe with me, okay?”

He nodded, pressing his forehead to yours. “Okay.”

You meant it when you said you had nothing to hide from him.

So when he asked tentatively if he could borrow your phone sometime, you handed it over without hesitation.

That trust wrecked him more thoroughly than anything else.

He lay beside you on the bed, scrolling quietly while you read. He went through your notes app first, heart pounding, expecting lists. Plans. Fantasies. Proof that you were already building a future in your head the way he was.

There was nothing.

No timelines. No secret hopes. No meticulously outlined dreams.

His chest tightened.

Pinterest was next. Boards upon boards of things you liked: colors, textures, aesthetics. Then, finally, two boards that made his breath catch.

Wedding dresses.

Engagement rings.

Nothing else. No venues. No themes. No saved vows.

Just silhouettes. Cuts. Metals. Stones.

His disappointment lasted maybe five seconds.

Then his brain kicked into gear.

That was enough. He could work with that.

He gave your phone back without comment, curled into you, kissing lazily along your jaw like nothing monumental had just happened inside his head.

It wasn’t until two nights later, when you were half-asleep and tucked under his chin, that he said it.

“Clear your schedule in two weeks,” he murmured, kissing your temple.

You hummed. “For what?”

“I’m proposing that weekend,” he said calmly, like he was reminding you to pick up milk. “I’ll give you options.”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Then you laughed softly, pressed a kiss to his throat, and said, “Okay.”

Tim exhaled like the world had finally clicked into place.

pluvoia

your breeding kink Dick drabble got me thinking about Tim with a breeding kink ☺️

(this is a req but don’t rush to complete it, this time of the year is buuusy for writers lol)

you had expected TIM DRAKE to laugh when you had said it; maybe roll his pretty blue irises, swat at your nose playfully-- when you accused your boyfriend of not missing you during his two week stake-out mission.

but all you had gotten, much to your surprise, was a half-hearted scowl, and a sudden iron grip on your upper forearm dragging you to your bedroom.

tim's chain, silver and sleek, dangled within your face tauntingly as the plap, plap, plap! of skin reverberated throughout the confinements of your room-- each thrust pointed and mocking at your words. "you really think i didn't miss you?" tim groans near the shell of your ear, tongue darting outwards to lick a crude stripe up your neck, "think i didn't fuck my fist to the thought of filling you up with my cum every chance i got?"

"fuck, tim--!" you gasp, legs locking and twitching around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back-- only keeping his cock snug within your cunt and kissing your g-spot. "i--"

plump lips kissed raw collide onto your own-- effectively shutting you up. again and again and again, tim continues to drive his dick into you with a reckless sort of passion; one that doesn't always need to prove anything-- but tonight, very much does. "well i did," tim mumbles against your lips, hips slamming against yours, "wasted so much of my cum when it shoulda been inside of your pretty fuckin' pussy instead,"

a pretty arch off of your bed forms at tim's words, your back pressing your chest impossibly closer to your boyfriend's. your nipples, stiffened and cold, brush against tim's chest and your entire body shudders.

"but it's okay," he concedes, slowly pulling his lips away from your own-- a string of saliva keeping you both connected mockingly. "'cause i'm jus' going to keep cumming inside of you, again n' again," he whispers, black strands of hair clinging to his forehead, "til' i don't have anymore left to fill you up."

one of tim's hands dips in-between the space of both your sweat slicked bodies-- his fingers easily finding your clit, only to roll tight and precise circles onto the sensitive bud. your head tilts backwards, further into your pillow, at the sensation-- and you cry out incoherently, far too cock-drunk to say anything tim can understand.

his laugh ghosts across your lips, coupled with the sweet sound of his moans. "yeah, bet you'd like that," he murmurs, almost to himself as his cock continues to drive in and out of your sopping cunt, "fuck-- with the way this pretty pussy s'milking me, i don't think it'll take long,"

your cunt clenches and spasms at his words-- his dick pulsating within you, leaking pre-cum, in response. your entire body quivers, a visceral sort of urge yearning impossibly for your boyfriend's cum.

"maybe i'll get you pregnant," tim blurts suddenly, a strangled moan falling from his lips at his own words-- as if the arousal the idea brings him is insurmountable and incapable of being contained. "breed this gorgeous pussy,"

"yes--!" you gasp, helplessly twitching closer to tim's body, as if in an attempt to get you closer than physical barriers will allow. "please, need you to cum inside of me so, so bad-- give me a baby, prove you missed me,"

your desperate rambling is akin to heroin for tim; his hips stutter into your body, cock pulsing and twitching achingly within your pussy-- which is soaked almost to an embarrassing extent. "fuck," tim curses, crease between his brows deepening as his thrusts grow erratic and hand moves passionately at your cunt, "m'going to cum," he announces shakily, bottoming out within you. "shiit, been wanting to cum inside you so badly, fucking stuff you so full of me you'll be dripping for weeks."

the repeated pulse of his cock inside of you is addictive-- sending shocks of pleasure and ecstasy down your spine, all the way to your toes. your lungs exhale deeply, and suddenly-- your own orgasm comes crashing down onto you.

your entire body quakes in tandem with tim's. as his cum floods your pussy, the fluid barely leaking out of you-- your cunt twitches and smothers tim's extremity; squeezing, milking, begging for more of his release.

even following his orgasm-- tim doesn't stop. the lewd noises emanated from your pussy only grow in decibels as the night drags onwards, his cock emptying all it can supply into your womb repeatedly.

when your frame turns to jelly upon your bed, spineless in his grip-- tim just dips his head low, lips dusting along your jaw and towards your mouth. "told you," he whispers, pressing spontaneous kisses into your skin, "missed you so bad, baby," his cock twitches within your pussy-- his tip swollen an indecent shade of pink from tim's three prior orgasms inside of you-- "i'm almost offended you didn't believe me."

beneath him, your own irises roll; one of your hands carding through tim's black tresses, fingers scratching idly at his scalp despite still being impaled on his dick. your body shudders around him as you speak; "well, i do now,"

"yeah?" tim asks skeptically, hips raising ever so slightly, only to roll lazily back into you-- both of you sighing in euphoria as he fills you to the brim again. "only took me fucking three loads into you for you to listen,"

"shii-it," you whisper, feeling tim's tip grind against your g-spot.

the man smiles into your skin, "m'not finished," tim groans, "i think this pussy can take more."

you open your mouth to protest, but tim's thrusts beginning for the umpteenth time that night shut you up quickly.

"please," tim exhales, "you said you want me to prove i missed you, so that's what m'doing,"

the bed creaks underneath the weight of both of your bodies, combined with tim's steady movements.

"please just let me cum inside of you again, i need it so badly-- n' i know you need it too."

loren's tags-- @skyy-baby @unseenzombieprototype @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @stilestotherescue

loren's thots:: highly anticipated tim drake breeding kink drabble whew. i saw dilf tim and it gave me the motivation to do this, but i could totally see this becoming a longer, proper piece based on dilf!tim drake like yum. this ones short but sweet, i think

waltzingphantoms

who's reaching? who's letting go? who fell first and who fell harder including | dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne & roy harper art by stefphe on tt for jason, zeromack0 on X for tim, malenjoyer on ig for roy playing | hula girl- the neighbourhood

dick grayson- you fell first, he fell harder

Let’s be honest, he’s quite a pretty sight, and when you actually got to know him properly, you learnt that he was so much more than he presented himself. It was easy to fall for him, all charm and natural attentiveness, and he cared so much about you without being overbearing that it was hard to hide.

When he got to learn about what made you, you, he just couldn’t look away from his feelings and had to face the truth that he had fallen so, so down bad that it was embarrassing for others to witness. He’s the complete opposite of nonchalant, so it didn’t take long until he confessed and you started dating, and the rest is history.

jason todd- he fell first, he fell harder

Jason has the natural tendency to people watch under the excuse of “knowing his environment” to keep his façade up, but in reality, he had been staring at the drop-dead gorgeous person who had been reading for 5 consecutive hours without moving an inch in Gotham’s public library. After getting himself pumped up, he finally got the guts to talk to you and start and easy conversation that led to a first date, which then lead to another, and another, and, well, you get where things went.

You truly are the light of his life and he’s eternally thankful of your relationship. Not only he ensures you are as happy as he can make possible, but he feels so much love oozing out of you when you look at him that it’s impossible for him not to be head over heels. Disgustingly in love, like his brothers say.

tim drake- he fell first, you fell harder

You’re pretty much his ideal type, what can I say. When you came to the café where your friend worked at ordering a quadruple shot of expresso into your americano, something captivated him. He came up to talk to you while you worked tucked away in a corner, and after momentary confusion, you got more intrigued as seconds pass, leading to him getting your number, texting you the moment he did a quick background check (some habits never die or whatever).

Now don’t get me wrong, Tim absolutely adores you and would give you his kidney without a second thought, but sometimes, you fall after his work. Even if he does end up retiring after, work was always a priority, which meant that you sometimes fell into second place. Nevertheless, he’s such a doting partner, making sure you never had an issue in your life, and he makes an effort for you, always.

damian wayne- you fell first, he fell harder

“It was destined to be” you friend said, “tbh I always knew they had something going on” a classmate thought. The both of you had a childish rivalry at university that it was almost endearing to watch. You didn’t feel an ounce of envy or anger towards him, but rather a high school crush that spiralled deeper every time he smugly raised his eyebrow at you when he got right a question that you didn’t. Being honest, one-sided rivalry was such a great idea to get him to talk to you, even if it’s for bragging his higher grade “by 0.75%, but still more than you”.

Damian really struggled to realise his feelings for you, and even an intervention was staged by his brothers because he couldn’t physically stop talking and thinking about you. He confessed in such a Damian Wayne way, always proper but very targeted towards the enjoyment of both of you. Now, he knows how you take you tea in the mornings and at what temperature you like the bath to be, and he loves way more than he’d ever admit being the only one who knows you that well.

roy harper- at the same damn time

You two match each other’s freaks TO THE SECOND. You fell at the same time he started catching feelings. True friends to lovers, you’d been friends for some time already, meeting through your other friends, and you just liked to hang out with each other. At some point in time, those hangouts turned into dates, and friendship evolved into something more.

Completely interlinked, you two had a connection like nothing ever seen. Arguments are rare because you shared the same ideas on almost everything, knowing when something was a true issue or just other things talking. People enjoy being around you two because you can be both the most in-love couple the world has ever seen and still be your own person with individual personalities.

bernthralized

perv!tim drake definitely has a camera installed in his reader's room

(NSFW AHEAD, mdni)

he calls it a safety precaution when it's anything but.

at first, it was barely noticeable, placed in an inconspicuous spot that you'd look over constantly whilst cleaning. the fact that you'd barely paid attention to that specific corner had his mind running. what else could he get away with without you knowing about the camera hiding there?

he's glaring at the computer screen like a hawk, a pair of your underwear in hand -- stolen, obviously, as he'd taken the chance to rob your drawer of a few items. the fabric glides over his erection, shaky moans filling the room, watching you strip down at just the right view. gosh, how he loved the length of your legs and the swell in your breasts, fisting the desperately leaking head of his cock.

pre had formed an embarrassingly large damp spot against your panties from his incessant masturbation whenever you came up on his screen, back arched and bottom lip bit between his teeth hard when he jerked it at merely the thought of you discovering his perverted game. if tim could jump through the screen just to put his dick between your thighs, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

you bend over to grab one of the stray clothing items on the floor, a sharp inhale at his lips at the sight of your cunt. "shit," he whimpers, tears at the corners of his eyes. he really shouldn't be rubbing one out to you when he's supposed to be researching for a term paper. Still, your body was his weakness, and his curiosity for the camera got the best of him.

goosebumps form over the pale skin of his shoulders, imagining what it would feel like to have your heat wrapped around his cock. his sight becomes blurry, and the buildup at his cockhead finally bursts. head thrown back against his desk chair, hot ropes of cum stain the fabric of your missing panties. it felt so filthy, so out of place... too late to think much on it now, though, as his favourite show was on for the night.

fawnindawn

love sorrow.

summary: when midnight marks the second year anniversary since damian's death, you make one desperate wish in the midst of your grief before falling asleep. when you wake, you find damian waiting in the apartment—as if he never left.

pairing: damian wayne x reader

content/warnings: angst, hurt-comfort, grief and loss, mentions of previous death, emotional reunion, yearning

Grief is a companion fond of making you dream.

"Beloved."

Damian stands before you in the kitchen, in his most-worn sweater, the one you swore you stuffed in the back of your shared closet when it had lost his scent.

The scent of toast, your favourite kind slathered with jam, lingers in the air and the familiarity of this sight—of him awake at an earlier hour to prepare you a simple breakfast, feels like a faraway dream.

You're struck by his voice, the tone and cadence your memory never managed to capture. You had to be dreaming still. Even when the edges of him are so life-like, not fuzzy like you're used to when you reach for the figment of him in your sleep.

He can't be standing in your kitchen, the one you used to share with him two years ago, because he is dead. Your Damian is dead.

unreasonablerobin

I have never actually sobbed over a fic before. Tears down my face and shaky exhales, holy shit. I can't properly articulate what this has just done to me.

fawnindawn

thank you so much for reading lovely!! so honoured truly😭😭💗💗

frostedorchard

The money I’d pay to have Jason Todd shirtless, on his stomach with sweatpants hanging low while I straddle his slutty waist and leave hickeys all over his back, and munch on his shoulders like he’s my favourite snack, and mess up his hair with my fingers, and give him neck kisses that would make him groan, and squeeze his biceps because they’re so big—

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