At his core, Jason Todd puts himself last. He's the first to jump in front of a bullet, first charge into a burning fire, first to drop dead center into a group of thugs.
It's not that he doesn't care about his safety, it's just that he deems his safety as lesser. He's stronger, sturdier, and if he's the one that goes down instead of someone else? That's a good thing.
He knows people would worry. People would miss him. But they'd move on the same way they did before. They would fill the gaps in the spaces he leaves, and there wouldn't be a need to pick the pieces off the floor because nothing would break at his loss.
At least, that used to be the truth. It was the truth until you nestled your way into his heart, and he somehow became a fixture in your life. He didn't mean to do it, didn't mean to make you fall in love with him, and he certainly didn't mean to fall in love with you.
But he did.
And now he makes sure you sleep on the inside on the bed, safe between the wall and him. He walks between you and the road, always on guard for swerving cars and shady civilians. He checks your apartment during patrol, though it's more for his peace of mind than yours.
Jason Todd still puts himself last, but the thought of you comes first, when he dives into the line of fire. If he doesn't come home, who's going to fix the leaky faucet or take out the trash when it gets full?
You could do it, he knows you could, but he doesn't want you to have to. So, he upgrades his armor when he would normally put it off. He's quicker to stop the blood dripping from his wounds. He's more aware, when he's shifting through the shadows of an enemy base.
He never worried about what he would leave behind. Not until you started to kiss his jaw before his nightly patrol, not until you started to reach for him every time he came home, beckoning him to your side and under the waiting, warm blankets.
He worries now. He makes plans, sets aside money, and makes his closest allies promise to keep an eye on you if he ever can't. He becomes your shield, whether you're aware of it or not, he has you covered.
You're his priority, and in becoming so, he's slowly becoming a priority, too. You're happier when he's okay, so he steadies his reckless tendencies. He dismantles the bomb in his helmet. He turns on his tracker for Oracle to keep an eye on.
For all the times he looks after himself, it's with you on his mind. He double checks his gear because he needs to pick up paper towels on the way home for you. He cleans his grappling hook because you asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner and a movie tomorrow.
He waits for backup before breaking up Penguin's latest smuggling ring because you recommended a book for him to read, and he only has a handful of chapters left to finish.
It's you, and you, and you again, that gives him a reason to want to make it to sunrise. It's you, that makes him really want to live.
He wants to see coast cities and tiny forest towns outside of whatever crime he's hunting down. He wants to travel and explore and try everything and anything– as long as it's with you.
He'd give up the world, give up everything he knows, as long as he can give you what you want. But all you ever ask, even if it's not in so many words, is for him to come home. So he does. Every night. Every day. Every time. Jason Todd finds his way back to you because your wants are his first concern.
He sheds his armor and kicks off his boots and leaves everything but the thought of you at your windowsill. He smiles when you murmur your sleepy greetings because he knows you think his smiles are pretty. He checks the locks and changes into the pajama set that matches with yours because you giggle every time you see it.
And all these things are so little yet so big all in one. They fill the cracks beneath his skin, and when he finally has you in his arms again, Jason Todd knows that nothing will be greater than this, than you.
There is no adversary, no injury or mission, that would have his gaze from straying from his singular goal; making it back to your arms to fill your days with all you deserve. With joy. With love. And for as long as you desire it, with him.
when he tells you he’s going to cum inside you as he holds your hips in a bruising hold so you can’t squirm away… apologizing profusely but he really needs to cum inside… he really can’t pull out… he hopes you’ll understand… but he needs it… he just can’t stop… especially if he starts repeatedly chanting "i'm sorry, i love you" before continuing pounding again, not having had enough of his fill, marking your weak body and hugging you tightly, gasping and moaning and losing himself inside and needing more-
hiii can i request dark!maeve smut??? it can take any direction youd like
omg omg omg dark maeve PLEASE
I’m imagining this when maeve and elana werent together after the plane incident… imagine they never got together and maeve is also crazy
Content warnings: MINORS DNI. dark!Maeve, although not as dark as she could be, non/dub con because of abuse of power but reader has a crush, light smut at the end (strap on w bottom reader&fingering)
Maeve becomes so disillusioned and angry with Vought. They’ve forced her into a palatable Brave Maeve mould. She can’t do the one thing she became a Supe for, because fucking Homelander had to ruin anything good she had in her. She can’t even fuck guys without it not fitting her brand. She has to use her face to sell cereal, and pretend to be in a relationship with the woman who doesn’t recognise her anymore.
So as a fuck you to Vought, Maeve takes advantage of the girl she’s been eyeing up at the office. You want lesbian? You’ll fucking get it, with your cute little intern. If Homelander gets away with this shit, she deserves a slice of the cake too.
You started your internship a few months ago and were enamoured with Queen Maeve, harbouring a little school girl crush on her that you keep absolutely to yourself. She’s older than you, much more powerful than you could ever be as a non-supe, and anyway - she’s with Elana.
Maeve knows you like her. She’s subtle, at first. Flustering you, saying your makeup looks pretty, asking where your outfit is from. The sudden attention makes you putty in her hands, and leaves you wide open for when she takes it further.
She abuses her position of power over you. Stay later, I need you to file these papers for me. Wear that top I said I liked the other day, the low-cut one. You aren’t sure if this is normal but you know you need to impress her, so you do.
You don’t realise how wrong the power dynamic is, but you know how shameless she is about eyeing you up now. She gropes you, squeezing your tits, touching your ass. But it’s never anything concrete - she always has an excuse. She only did it to get past you or her hand slipped.
She starts to treat you hot and cold to get you even more devoted to her attention. She’ll give you gifts, have you sit in her lap as she signs Dawn of the Seven DVDs, and even come torturously close to kissing you. Then the next day, she dismisses you coldly, and demands you get her a coffee and scolds you when you ‘mess up’ her order.
It makes you so much more responsive when she chooses to take things further, but even then, she can’t help herself.
She wanted to take it slow. Make you beg for it, corrupt your mind, make you solely dependent on her to soothe that fucked up itch inside her for complete control over you. But one day she can’t take it anymore and just takes you.
She kisses you hard and fast, leaves bite marks all over your neck and tits, fucks you on her fingers in her lap until you’re crying. She’s got a little bit of self restraint as she pounds your tiny cunt with her strap - saying she’s sorry, how you’re just so pretty and easy, how she just had to take advantage and use you.
warnings: public sex, mentions of fisting, overstimulation, pussy inspections, thigh-riding, impact play, sex toys, bondage mentions?, possessiveness, rimming, masturbation, crying during sex, hair pulling, deepthroating, slut-shaming, this shit is so ooc but i could care less
exhibitionist!queen maeve who backs you up into any corner or wall at any chance she gets to push her muscled thigh between your own, testing your desperation and need for her in public "dont want people to hear us do you? for people to catch us? so do us both a favor and keep quiet." you could feel your own juices covering her thigh, but she kept at it. continuing to flex her thigh against your pussy until you finally came.
mean!queen maeve who slutshames you to humiliate you, putting her cigarettes out on your thighs. "you like being my ashtray, hm?" her big, veiny hands parting your legs to tease you through your panties as she groans mixed insults and praises. she wants to work you to the edge, see how fucking far you go but she knows you cant handle it. "come on look at me." she slaps your clothed clit harshly to get your attention but it just fucking tips you over, and you cum right then and there. shes surprised, but that doesnt keep her from rubbing you. "let me hear you. let me hear how much you like being fucked and slapped around like you're nothing. don't you have any self respect? any dignity? or are you just a whore? a whore, made to be used hm?"
possessive!queen maeve who bends you over any counter to inspect your pussy, making sure nobody has ever touched you besides herself. opening up your lips and poking and prodding at your open cunt, licking her lips as she pushes a finger or two in, listening to the way you whine and squeeze around her fingers. saying that "shes only ever wanted the best for you" while fucking your cunt with 3 fingers, her other hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as you writhe. you shake and cry as she presses her thumb to rub your clit, wanting you to tell her that you'll never let anyone use you besides her. "your pussy was made for my fingers, they just fit so perfect. just makes me wonder how many i could fit, if i could maybe even fit my whole fuckin' hand in here." making it known that shes the only one who could touch and fuck you the way she does, the only one who knows how to play with you.
(CONSENSUAL) perverted!queen maeve who will stare at you like youre fucking meat. grope your tits while youre making the bed, only for her to finger your cunt until youre gushing onto her palm. she'll come up behind you while youre cleaning, pulling her arms around your waist and slipping her hands beneath the waistband of your panties. "i bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, bend you over anything." she says, her big hand cupping your pussy just so perfectly as she rubs your clit to completion. sometimes she'll even run her hands over the arch of your back and down to your ass while youre making dinner, pulling your pants down to your ankles as she drops to her knees to run her tongue over your perfect little hole. she'd even go as far to masturbate in the living room while you're watching tv "look don't touch" making you stare at her as she runs her own hands over her nipples, as she pushes a finger deep into her own pussy as you watch and listen.
pathetic!queen maeve who whines as she sucks on your clit, because shes just so damn desperate to please you. her hands clasp around your thighs and youre sure its gonna mark so you grab her hair, craning her head back so you can get a better look at her face. her mascara is running down her cheeks, your juices smeared around her lips, and all she can do is just look at you with the most pathetic puppy eyes ever. "all..all i ever want is you." soon enough you have her sprawled out on the bed, a vibrating bullet buried deep into her pussy, and all she can do is strain against the restraints as the toy brings her to climax."i just want...want to make you happy." later, shes back to her knees, crying as you push your fake cock deep into her throat. when you pull away from her all she does is push her face up closer to you, the spit-covered cock up against her cheek now.
touch starved!queen maeve who cums in a solid 3 minutes after not being with anyone in almost 5 years, shes almost embarrassed until you work her right up to another one. she's crying, tiny little tear drops leaving her eyes as she cums once more, and all she can do is beg. "pleasepleaseplease- fuck me again, i-i can take more." and she's desperate, really, you know that. but how can you fucking deny her when shes begging like that?
okay so this isnt the stuff i usually write, but ive been SOOO obsessed with her lately. yes i know there is grammar mistakes i wrote this so late at night so bear with me...if its that bad put it in grammarly <3
the way you were obsessed with ben—it was clear, he picked on that pretty quickly.
you followed him around like a puppy desperate for attention, your big eyes always on him. the way you licked your lower lip as your eyes would absentmindedly follow to his crotch. you’d slightly tilt your head and squeeze your eyes together, wiggling your hips a little to relive the tension in your body.
and fuck, did he love it.
he smiled as he saw you around the office, wearing one of those short floaty dresses that left nothing to the imagination as you’d bent forward. it would ride up just perfectly for him to see your panties—and damn, you had some pretty pairs. they were mostly white and he thought that you might be doing it on purpose as it was easier to see the slick patch on the fabric that was there constantly. to be honest, he didn’t remember when was the last time you weren’t wet around him.
but then again, you were his perfect little slut—always eager and ready to have his thick cock shoved up deep inside your tight pussy.
“oh fuck, s’tight,” he practically growled as you were bouncing up and down his massive length.
it didn’t take long to have you naked—one whistle and suggestive look towards the bedroom were enough for you to quickly run to the room, losing your clothes in the process. he’d chuckle as he lied down in bed, resting against the headboard and watching as you eagerly jumped on him.
you were so cockdrunk and he just couldn’t be happier about it.
you whimpered, tilting your head back and closing your eyes when you felt one of the thicker and bigger veins rub delicious against your delicate walls, his tip pressing your cervix with each slurp of your pussy. however, ben didn’t like that—you were supposed to have his eyes on him, at all times. especially when he was the one making you feel good. he relished in the need and hunger for him that were so clearly displayed in your irises.
so, with a low growl, he grabbed your throat and squeezed it, tight enough to leave a mark and reduce the the air intake in your lungs, but not enough to actually strangle you. he just wanted his little girl to have a reminder of who she belonged to—a few bruises on her pretty neck, made by his fingers, would serve its purpose.
the moment you felt the air access lessen, you widened your eyes and looked back at him with a pathetic whimper that only made a predatory smile appear on his rugged but awfully handsome face. he squeezed again and a groan escaped him as you clamped your pussy on his fat dick.
“you like that, huh? you like it when daddy’s choking you? you’re such a dirty little girl. such a slut. you’ll do everything for some dick,” he scoffed, keeping the pressure on your throat with his fingers.
and it didn’t take long for an idea to pop up in his head. he chuckled lowly, almost breathlessly as the sound was taunting and menacing. he fixed his hold on your throat and then, started moving you up and down his cock, just to his liking. you whimpered, holding onto his wrist for support, a strangle cry escaping your throat. you wanted to close your eyes, but then, a gasp left your mouth as he sharply pinched your swollen clit.
“eyes on daddy if you want to cum. or do you want to crawl and hump the floor like you did last time?” he scoffed and the memory of your punishment, served enough as a warning. a faint blush covered your cheeks and you nodded your head, doing everything in your power to keep your eyes open, even though you so desperately wanted to have them roll back in your head.
“good girl. good fuckin’ girl,” he laughed, pulling you closer and leaving a small, rough kiss on your swollen lips. “the best girl, just f’daddy,” he drawled, pinching your bud again.
you squeaked and widened your eyes, clenching around his thick cock again, which only made him smile even more.
god, you were so adorable with his dick in your pussy.
grinding on daddy butcher’s big strong hairy thighs!!
yes yes yes!!! Lots of thoughts on this one but struggling to put them into words... take this jumbled mess
content warnings: minors DNI, daddy kink, afab!fem!reader, thigh riding
You curl into his lap perfectly, slotting your tiny body against his, together like puzzle pieces. His strong left thigh flexes below where you straddle it, applying firm contact and friction after making you work yourself against him for the last ten minutes. You've matted down the hair there, creating a slick glide that feels like warm syrup from your clit to your veins. Butcher bounces you on his thigh, a firm, dizzying pressure working you into a submissive puddle in his arms.
Your head is buried in his shoulder and you're fully naked, your modesty only protected by the wrap of Butcher's large coat lapels around you. His thick, strong arms keep it in place, shielding you, keeping you pressed flush to his chest. Secure, all-encompassing, safe.
"Bunny in heat, aint'cha?
He notices you've stopped grinding down, letting him bounce you, so he swats your ass.
"Oi. Keep up that humpin', sweet'eart," he purrs.
"Daddy don't like lazy girls. Show 'ers you want it, aye?"
You hold onto his stupid Hawaiian shirt beneath the leather of his duster, clinging on for comfort as you process his words, dazed, needy, and desperate to be good. Your tits press against the scratchy fabric and your breathing speeds up, whines escaping your lips as you pant and fuck yourself down. God, you don't want it. You fucking need it.
You cum on his big strong thigh with a squeal and a jolt.
The space between you was minimal, just a few centimeters. Damian's breathing mixed with yours, creating a heavy atmosphere, charged with unspoken emotions. His hand slowly rose, as if he was hesitant to touch you, until his fingers brushed the line of your jaw.
"You are..." his voice, usually firm and controlled, now trembled with a mix of desire and vulnerability, "you are everything I swore I shouldn't have."
Your eyes met his, and in them you saw something raw and real, something he had never shown before. You could feel the internal battle he was fighting with himself, between the warrior who had to stay distant and the man who surrendered to what he felt for you.
"Damian..." you whispered, his name escaping your lips with a softness that seemed to melt the last barriers that contained him.
There was no warning. In an instant, he closed the distance between you and his lips found yours. The kiss was intense, like he’d been holding this moment back for years. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, like he feared you would fade away if he didn’t keep you next to him.
The heat emanating from his body was almost overwhelming, and the way his mouth moved against yours spoke of a passion held back for too long. You found yourself reciprocating with equal intensity, your hands moving up to tangle in his dark hair.
When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. His forehead rested against yours again, and you could feel his chest rise and fall hard.
“I don’t know how to stop this,” he confessed with an honesty that disarmed you. His voice was low, almost a growl, heavy with desire. “I don’t want to stop it.”
Your fingers gently traced the line of his jaw, exploring the texture of his skin as you tried to find the right words.
“Then don’t,” you said, and your voice, though soft, carried a determination that had him looking at you with a mix of admiration and devotion.
Damian responded with renewed intensity, trapping you in another kiss, this time slower, deeper. Every move seemed calculated, but not because he was hesitating, but because he wanted to memorize every detail, every sensation.
“Do you know what you mean to me?” he whispered against your lips, his low, gravelly voice sending a shiver down your spine.
“Tell me,” you murmured, your fingers now playing with the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your hands.
“You’re my weakness,” he admitted, his tone more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “And also my strength.”
His words, loaded with meaning, left a lump in your throat. Damian Wayne, the man who had sworn to never open up to anyone, was here, before you, completely exposed.
The night seemed to drag on as you both drifted along in a current that neither of you could stop. The tension in the air was palpable, and while every caress, every kiss, spoke of intense desire, there was also something deeper: a connection that went beyond the physical.
When Damian finally lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the couch in front of the gently burning fireplace, his eyes never left yours.
“There’s no turning back for me,” he declared with a finality that took your breath away. “If this means I lose myself, then so be it.”
And in that moment, you knew it wasn’t just attraction they felt. It was something deeper, something that promised to consume them both completely.
Bruce Wayne kisses like you're the last thread of sanity holding him to this world. He'll cradle your face in his hands, lips making long, languidly slow movements over your own. By the end of it, you're pushed against some kind of furniture and panting, while he's already leaving to pull on his cowl. It hurts to see him go, yet you know that he'll be home again to kiss you senseless until the world makes sense.
Richard Grayson kisses like he'll be dead tomorrow. Little pecks along your cheek, forehead, neck—anywhere he can get those plush lips on. He'll kiss you until you're both breathless, chests heaving and faces flushed. He'll love you until the day he dies, and he makes sure that you know that. Every day, he spends like it's his last, and every day, he makes sure to give you so many kisses, you're drowning in his love.
Jason Todd kisses like he doesn't know how. Sure, he's had a few hookups, especially during his early days as Red Hood, but he's never kissed a person like you. He loves you, it's as simple as that. With others, he is rough and fast, not knowing how to slow down and just enjoy the presence of the person beneath him. With you, all he can do is be gentle, because you're the only person who has stayed and loved him as the broken man he is.
Tim Drake kisses you like he's trying to study you. He'll nip at your neck and jaw just to see how you react, just to grin to himself as he observes the way you melt into him when his lips meet yours. He'll let his hands wander to see what makes you relax, what makes your lips stutter against his. He enjoys every interaction like you are his subject and he is the scientist. He needs to know everything. Knowledge calls for him in his blood, and you, his love, are the doorway to it.
AgedUp!Damian Wayne kisses expensively. He starts at your jaw, making soft motions towards your lips until he finally claims them with his own. His wide hands hold you in place by the waist and his dark hair tickles your skin. He'll take his time, loving on you the way you deserve. He knows just how to kiss you like he knows just how to kill a man. He kisses soft and slow, because why would he have to rush? He has his beloved in his arms, whispering his name against his lips; what more could he want?
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