jason todd can never fuck you without seeing your face.
he works himself up just to lean himself all the way over, breaking his neck just to kiss you. ignoring how his bones ached in protest and his hips bucked.
at first you think he’s just being sweet, not letting you suck him off because he wants you closer, or making you lay on your back instead of your stomach. his eyes watching yours and trailing across your face as though it was all he needed.
even when you closed your eyes, basked in the feeling of him and tried to get used to the stretch. jason didn’t even need words when they failed you, instead he read your face. felt how you tensed and your hands grabbed at his back. he cooed a response out of you.
“that feel good ma?” rasping with difficulty as you gasped softly. then you nodded and he cupped your cheek, voice soft as feathers as he spoke to you. “can you tell me how it feels?”
a shudder runs through you as he shifts his hips just barely. “good. it feels really, really good.”
then he smiles and rolls onto his back, pulling you into his lap as he did it. you sink back onto him so easily this time, sighing in unison as he seated himself fully inside. his hands fell to your ass, taking cupfuls as you fluttered your lashes at him when he began moving you. slowly at first but quickly his movements grew more frantic as the sounds rumbled from his chest and echoed through your skin, penetrating your thoughts in the same way he did your body.
jason loves to watch you lost yourself in it, seeing the hunger grow from your shyness and fucks you til you’re begging him for more. because you are as insatiable as he is and even more is never enough.
after he coaxes you through an orgasm and stares through half lidded eyes, you try changing the position yourself. though you fail, collapsing onto his chest and begging for more with that hoarse tone in your voice that told him you were exhausted.
jason could never deny his sweet girlfriend from his touch could he?
pulling off his lap, he moved to situate himself over you once again. pulling out just for a moment while you flop onto your stomach, sighing into the pillow dreamily. he blinks as he hovers over you, hand grazing your side as he says your name. swallowing thickly as the sight of you arching for him, stomach flat on the mattress as you pulled your arms under the pillow, burying your face into it and got more comfortable.
jason breathes heavier as he rasps. “i wanna see your face too princess, come on.”
though you only hum and murmur something that sounded like ‘mm too tired’. jason snakes his arm under your chest and pulls you up by your throat, not enough to hurt, but just enough to coax. your hand slides behind you, guiding his throbbing length through your puffy folds before sinking back onto him. sucking him in and moaning as you arch your back further. jason nearly chokes on his spit and pulls your face towards him, craning his neck just to kiss you even as you start to fold in on yourself when he picks up the pace.
the sound of his skin on yours is obscene, the pace he keeps is relentless. his eyes watch your shut ones as pushed you into another orgasm and reach your peak with a whimper. jason swallows the sweet sound from between your lips and lets your hands weakly tug at his hair at the crown of his neck more harshly than you’d intended.
the pain doesn’t bother him then. if anything, the sting reminds him you’re still there.
when you’re limp against him, shuddering from the feeling, he lets you gently onto the sheets. jason manhandles you onto your back again, fucking you right as you’re blissed out on him, humming with his name on your tender lips from how hard he’d been kissing you from behind. he’s rougher with you now that he can see your face fully again. that was exactly what he needed to tip over the edge. he moans your name out broken, dark hair sticking to his forehead as his perfect heterochromic eyes bore into your glazed ones.
“you’re so perfect ma,” he whimpers gorgeously. “god, you’re so beautiful.”
though the fucked out grin you gave him made him sputter and groan. hips stuttering as he gave powerful thrusts into you and let go, painting your walls a milky white you could practically taste. even then his eyes are open, arms braced by your head so he didn’t crush you with his weight and also to continue to see your face as your mouth gaped open in a silent moan. tongue touching the tip of your top teeth before you giggled at him weakly. grazing your fingernails up his back as he shudders again and continues to thrust into you like he couldn’t resist, not when he’s got you under him like this.
you have to pull him to lay all the way down so he is laying over you, his weight like a heavy blanket that could lull you to sleep. dick so good it sends you into full rem quickly.
though when you wake up in the morning, jason’s laying on his side, his hand draped over your waist as your leg hung over his. and his eyes were set right on yours, lips ready to say your name like it had taken permanent residence on his tongue.
not proofread! im fighting demons so mb for not updating regularly lmao :p
How's he supposed to help it, when there's such beautiful ladies with such nice rears?
The way the flesh squishes under his touch, like it's meant to be squeezed and needed by his hands only is absolutely addicting. You're pretty sure he's mesmerized every time he takes a handful of your behind.
Don't even get him stated on the way it moves. Jason's eyes wander so much during daily life, and more often than not, they land on the pliant flesh. Watching it shake and jiggle as you ride him is his personal favorite, though.
God forbid Jason ever gets involved with a chubby girl, because his hands will be all over her.
The way your body moves when you walk, like it's designed especially to catch his eye, has him drooling.
What can he say? He enjoys girls that have a lot for him to love!
｡𖦹°‧Content/summary — What starts as you taking up baking as a hobby quickly turns into a full-blown crisis. Jason goes from dutifully eating your rock-hard practice brownies to becoming addicted to your homemade pastries. He gains a little comfortable soft layer over his abs, smells like vanilla and cinnamon 24/7, and couldn't care less what his brothers have to say about it.
At this point, it was getting ridiculous.
When you first started baking, Jason was basically a hero just for swallowing the messes you made. Chocolate chip cookies that tasted like straight salt, loaves of sourdough dense enough to dent the wall, and strawberry cupcakes that tasted like garlic…!
He ate all of it anyway. Sitting on the counter in his sweatpants, jaw working overtime through a brick-hard brownie, crumbs flying everywhere. "Baby, it’s not bad…. you’re getting better. You should keep going.”
So you did. You learned how to brown butter, and mastered high-fat pastries.
And that's when Jason officially lost his mind.
Now, the apartment constantly smelled so sweet it was almost criminal. Warm yeast, caramelized sugar, browning butter, and that heavy, rich scent of real vanilla bean that hung in the air.
It got to the point where Jason smelled like it 24/7. It didn't matter if he'd just spent six hours fighting guys in a damp sewer—the second he pulled off the red helmet, he didn't smell like Gotham air or cordite anymore. He smelled ridiculously like warm vanilla bean and spicy cinnamon. It clung to his skin, his hair, his jacket, even his sweat. It was his natural scent at this point.
And he was completely, hopelessly feral for it.
The man was eating continuously. You’d wake up at three in the morning to the sound of plastic wrap rustling in the dark, finding him leaning against the fridge in his boxers, shoving a cold, glaze-covered cinnamon roll into his mouth before he’d even turned the light on. He’d come home from patrol covered in rain and soot, kick his boots off, and walk straight past you to grab a warm vanilla cupcake off the cooling rack.
Not one. Three. In about thirty seconds flat.
You’d sit on the counter and watch him eat like he’d been starving uin the desert, his eyes half-shut, frosting smeared across his thumb. He didn't even use plates anymore. Just stood there in his gear, breathing in the sweet bakery air of the kitchen, completely hooked.
Naturally, eating his weight in heavy cream, butter, and sugar every single day caught up with him.
He was still huge—the man was broad as a barn and could still throw a guy through a windshield—but the tight, shrink-wrapped abs were completely gone. In their place was a noticeably soft, solid layer. A cozy kind of soft. The kind where resting your head on his chest while watching TV felt ten times better because he actually had some padding over his ribs—and he smelled like a fresh tray of cinnamon buns while you cuddled him.
He didn't care. He was living in a sugar-induced bliss.
The rest of the family, unfortunately, had eyes (and noses).
It came to a head on a Tuesday in the Batcave. Jason was leaning back against the console, jacket half-unzipped, lazily listening to Bruce rant about precinct logs.
Dick walked past, stopped dead in his tracks, and sniffed the air like a hound dog before looking right at Jason’s middle. Before Jason could react, Dick darted a hand out and jabbed a finger right into his side.
"Dude," Dick said, his mouth twitching into a wide grin. "Are you getting... doughy? And why do you smell like a bakery?"
Tim didn't look up from his screen, but he snorted into his mug. "It's all he eats. Every time I radio him, I can hear him chewing a muffin. He literally smells like sweet vanilla from ten feet away. He's an addict."
"It's embarrassing," Damian muttered from across the room, scowling over a batarang. "You look like you're preparing to hibernate, Todd. And you smell like a confectioner's shop. Your conditioning is shot."
Jason didn't even blink. He reached out, slapped Dick’s hand away hard enough to leave a red mark, and reached straight into his inner jacket pocket.
He pulled out a soft, foil-wrapped vanilla bun you’d snuck into his gear before he left, peeled the foil back with his teeth, and shoved half of it into his mouth right in front of them.
"Cry about it," Jason mumbled around a mouthful of soft dough, icing sticking to the corner of his lip. "You guys are up here eating cardboard protein bars and drinking grass water. My girl makes these from scratch. Every day. I'm taking this to my grave."
Dick stared at the bun, the smug look instantly evaporating as the rich smell of cinnamon drifted across the cave. "...Is that cream cheese frosting?"
Jason zipped his jacket up over his soft stomach with zero shame, smelling like pure vanilla sugar, and took another huge bite.
"Don't even breathe near it, Dick. Get your own girl."
They should have left it at that. But Dick and Tim thought it would be funny to test the theory.
The next afternoon, while Jason was out doing a routine sweep of Crime Alley, Dick swiped the tin of fresh cinnamon rolls and the box of vanilla-bean cupcakes you’d sent Jason off with for the shift.
They realized their mistake within two hours.
Without his daily influx of sugar and butter, Jason didn't just get annoyed—he turned downright vicious.
By hour three of patrol, his radio comms were just a series of low, terrifying snarls. When Tim tried to check in on a lead, Jason cut him off by telling him to "shut your mouth before I cave your visor in." When a mugger in an alley hesitated to put his weapons down, Jason didn't negotiate; he threw the guy through a brick wall, kicked his gun across the street, and slammed the alley door so hard the hinges bent.
By the time everyone regrouped in the Batcave, the tension was suffocating.
Jason practically stomped down the glass stairs, helmet yanked off, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles were twitching. His hair was sticking up, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked ready to murder a man with his bare hands.
"Where is it," Jason snapped, his voice dangerously quiet, stepping right into Dick's personal space.
Dick swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that a withdrawal-addicted Red Hood was not a joke. "Jay, calm down, we just—"
"I asked you a question, Dickhead," Jason barked, slamming a heavy tactical gauntlet onto the main console hard enough to rattle the monitors. "Where are the fucking cinnamon rolls."
You would’ve thought Dick killed someone by the way Jason was staring at him,
"We took them!" Tim blurted out, holding up hands in surrender from behind his chair. "We wanted to see if you were actually addicted! You've been a nightmare on comms all night, man, you're literally going through sugar withdrawal!"
"Give. Them. Back." Jason’s eyes narrowed into slit-like glares. "I have had a twelve-hour day, my head hurts, I smell like cheap exhaust, and I am five seconds away from beating both of you into the concrete if my girl's baking isn't back in my hands."
Dick frantically reached under the desk, pulling out the sealed tin and handing it over like a bomb squad tech disarming an explosive.
Jason snatched the tin, popped the lid off immediately, and took a massive, angry bite out of a roll. He stood there in the middle of the cave, breathing heavily, chewing aggressively while staring daggers at both of them.
Within thirty seconds, as the soft dough and heavy glaze hit his system, his shoulders slowly dropped. The vein pulsing in his temple calmed down. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, the scary edge melting away as that familiar, warm vanilla aroma washed over him again.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gave Dick one last, lethal glare, and hugged the tin tightly against his chest, his softer stomach pressing into the metal lid.
"Don't ever," Jason grunted, walking back toward the Batmobile, "touch my food again."
Requested by @nightwingsbabydoll tysm! This was so fun to write.
warnings: nsfw ― mdni, reader is anatomically female, porn w minimal plot, filth...like a lot of it, unprotected sex (pls don't do this), creampie, breeding kink sorta, vaginal penetration, brief dry humping, vaginal fingering, prone bone, lowkey aggressive sex, dirty talk, praise, daddy kink :D, jason says 'good girl' :DDDD, size kink if you squint, mild possessiveness if you squint, biting, some clit play, mild language
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thinking of early mornings with jason, where one moment he's snoring on his side of the bed before rolling over and scooping you into his arms, smooshing his cheek into your barely covered chest. before you can even open your eyes, his lips are hot on your skin, kissing with a reverence that makes your heart ache and the heat between your legs throb.
it isn't some special occasion.
he simply wants to make love to every part of you, your soul. the sacred devotion this early in the morning genuinely rewires your brain.
he's got you wrapped around his finger, and you equally as much. you're both absolutely smitten with each other. but that's right where you want to be. wrapped up in the mess of your limbs, breaths intermingling as your hips lazily rut into one another.
his length prods through the thin fabric of his boxers, catching your clit just right through the flimsy lace of your panties. your hands are firm on his arms, flexing at the feeling of your nails gently sinking into his skin. both of your eyes remain hooded, a particular roll of his hips eliciting a wrecked moan from you.
"jay," his name falls from your lips like a sinful prayer.
it only eggs him on. it makes him want to pursue your pleasure even further, to pull the breathiest of moans from your plush lips, to have you melt into complete putty and quiver beneath him.
so he does just that.
"just relax, honey," he rolls you flat onto your stomach, already pressing hot kisses to the curve of your neck, down your shoulder. "i got you. let me make you feel good, mama."
the graze of his fingers along your backside has your hips recklessly pushing back into him, eager for more. he moves even slower, dragging your panties down your legs at a pace that indicates no urgency.
his breath catches when a string of your arousal follows the crotch of your panties, your folds glistening before his eyes. already so wet, completely prepared to take all of him.
his fingers are heavy between your legs, parting your lips to spread your slick before sinking home. there's no gradual stretch ― just two fingers prying you open like they belong there.
"mm, fuck, baby."
your words are muffled by the fluff of your pillow, hips moving in tandem with each push of his fingers. your thighs briefly squeeze around his wrist, slightly halting his ministrations.
"gotta open up for me, sweet girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss right beneath your ear. "gonna let me make you feel good, right, sweetheart?"
he lives for this shit. absolutely fiends for the way your walls drip for him, the way they try to swallow up everything that he gives you. you try to nod, hips still wriggling for him to stop talking and just give you more.
he simply laughs at your weak attempt, firmly pressing one hand to the small of your back.
"patience, mama," he hums, fingers slowly starting to massage your gummy walls again. "patience."
quiet whimpers and low whines rip from your throat with each push of his hand. then his digits curl beautifully against that spot that drives you mad.
"oh, fuck― jay," you gasp, one hand reaching back to tug at his wrist.
he tuts, hissing when your nails press dull crescents into his flesh. he doesn't stop his movements.
"damn, ma," a dark chuckle vibrates through his chest. "that good?"
you can hear the smirk in his voice. if this man wasn't so hot, built to perfection, you'd be pissed. instead, it goes straight to your core, walls clenching around his two thick fingers.
drool pools beneath your pouted lips, coating them in that glossy sheen that makes jason's brain short circuit.
"want more, jay," you attempt to catch his eyes through your hooded ones, moaning softly. "please gimme more."
a grumble resounds from deep within. the sight of you so worked up does nothing to quell the ache in his boxers.
he doesn't even pretend to consider it, pulling his fingers out of you with an earnest "sorry, baby."
his boxers are flung across the room in seconds. his cock rests heavy in his palm, head red and leaking. a few quick pumps are all that he can spare before he's pressing himself to your heat, sloppily running his tip through your folds.
the sounds that leave both of your mouths are lewd. you're sure that you're dripping all over the sheets, but you can't bring yourself to care at all. he continues like that for a bit, whimpering when he barely nudges at your entrance.
you prop yourself onto your elbows, head falling between your shoulders as his hips finally push forward. cacophonic moans spill from your mouth, already coming undone. his free hand finds your hip, deliberately feeding every girthy inch to your greedy cunt.
he shushes you, pressing his lips to the flexed muscles of your back and shoulders.
"'m right here, baby," he stills for a moment before filling you to the hilt, ripping the breathiest moan from your chest. "right fuckin' here, mama."
he sets a harrowing pace ― one that makes you feel every inch and every vein, yet has you damn near bawling out for more.
your fingers clutch a pillow against your chest, the fluff collecting your pathetic moans and stray tears. your thighs are quivering already, fighting the urge to just push back and use him however you please.
"so fuckin' big," you weep when his hips smack the plush of your ass.
his hands abandon your hips, slipping his forearms under your frame instead. he's impossibly deep. you swear you can feel him in your lungs at this point.
another desperate cry urges his hips to move faster, eager for more of those pretty sounds to ring in his ear.
"this pussy was made for me," he muses. "you were fuckin' made for me, sweetheart."
your thighs press closer together, heightening the sensation of his cock nestled deep between your walls.
"baby, fuck, i c― i can't take it," you mewl, fingers curling deeper into the fluff beneath your chest.
his hips pick up their pace, slapping your ass with obscene whack, whack, whacks.
"hell, you can't," he spits, chest shoving down on your back. "you were made for this shit, baby, c'mon. take it."
he bites on your shoulder with enough pressure to get you out of your head. a surprised yelp strings into a moan when his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles to the sensitive nub.
"c'mon, honey," he pushes. "let go. come for me. make a mess all over me."
he kisses the blunt bite mark forming on your pretty skin.
"lemme see how good daddy makes you feel."
and that does it.
with one high-pitched gasp, you're falling apart, legs violently trembling as his hips continue to snap forward, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm. your arms give out and the side of your face lands on the pillow as though it'll save you.
"gonna let me fill you up like a good girl, right, baby?"
he has the audacity to whimper as if he's the one being fucked to oblivion. nonetheless, you're nodding wildly.
"fill me up, jay," you blubber with closed eyes. "wan' you to come in me."
he grunts at the feeling of your walls pulsing around him, driving him over the edge shortly afterwards. warm spurts of white paint your insides, shamelessly claiming you as his and his only.
he settles against the warmth of your back, your breaths evening out.
"good fuckin' morning," he croons.
he doesn't pull out, just stays sheathed comfortably. you stir softly when his lips flutter across your back again.
"so," his voice comes out completely wrecked. "me calling myself daddy does it for you, huh?"
you half-heartedly swat a hand at him.
"shut up."
he nips at your shoulder playfully, right where he'd bitten you earlier, and a quiet whimper echoes from the plush of your lips.
"yeah, that's what i thought," he grins to himself, entirely too smug.
gotta give the guy some credit.
a/n: feeling like THAT bitch cause i put out two fics in less than 24 hrs 😎
though one of the sexiest things about him is his mind. how much he knew, like random facts that would win you a grand prize in a game show about books or historical events. or even about you and what makes you tick. where you liked to eat and how you’d crack your knuckles. he always knew.
his attention to detail was unmatched because he is an amazing observer.
he knew you so deeply that it was like he studied you in the same way he searched for information. kept your image close to his heart and burned it to memory like a brand.
but you hadn’t yet gotten further with jason other than making out hard and panting even harder, you knew he was the type to prioritize your pleasure over his. when you started touching more intimately, he saw how much you liked him and felt more confident in how heavily he felt for you. he’d hold those moments with the same tenderness he held your hand with on your first date, devotion leaking from his pores.
but jason wasn’t prepared to see how he could completely ruin you when it translated to bed. he didn’t even know he was capable of it, though once he got a taste, he knew he was unconditionally yours. mapping out roads around your body and marking the spot that made you make the most noises. memorizing the map that led to what he really wanted.
the first time was after a week that was horribly cold and you clung to jason like a second skin. overtime, his warm hands fell to between your thighs and when you didn’t stop him, he continued. shakily, more afraid of hurting you than anything else. though entirely skilled, he knew exactly what makes you tick. every single button he pressed made the experience all the more memorable. every touch and every praise, jason made it comfortable and safe like it was his priority because it is.
now its getting hot and heavy. he’s got you pinned under him hand running up your side while he just barely restrained himself. taking your panties off of you so slowly, unwrapping you like a gift he is oh so grateful to receive.
as though he’s afraid of hurting you somehow.
dragging his heavy, weeping tip through your folds. letting the weight rest against you after prepping for what felt like eternity. the resistance is hardly there at this point, but even now, jason’s bigger than anyone could gauge. what you’d imagined in your mind was ten times fold with him and the girth he harboured was a little daunting.
“i got you princess.” he breathes. “will you let me in?”
eyes staring into his as heart shapes form in the thin air, you nod breathlessly.
you’re not one to back down from a challenge, right?
then he presses forward and kisses you at the same time, swallowing down the gasp that took your breath. only an inch inside and he’s the one shaking already, cupping your face with one hand and fisting the bedsheet by your head with the other.
the stretch is incredible. the sheer size of him both unwarranted and ridiculously impressive. but when you consider his soft spoken voice and the gentle rasp that shook you to your core, it only made your arousal greater.
he drops his head to your cheek and kisses your face gently. then he lets his lips trail down your jaw, licking down then he could tuck his head in your neck and breathe you in. rocking into you slow like he was afraid to fully seat himself inside.
jason whimpers your name softly when you tense. “ease up ma.” before letting a hand circle your clit.
“i’m sorry,” breath shakily as you wrap your ankles around his back. “you’re really big.”
something in his perfect face melts and his lips upturn. he stops his hips from moving any further.“don’t apologize to me, i should be doing that. god, please don’t tell me i’m hurting you.”
but the wait was eating you up. the feeling of him there and not giving you it all was building and the ache was defeaning.
you needed all of him.
you shake your head and try to buck into him further, but jason’s hand shifts to your hip and holds you firm. still holding himself back for some reason unknown to you. a whine slips from your lips when you try to get closer and he groans like the action was ruining him.
this time, you decide to plead. “i want it all jay”
blinking down at you, he shifts his gaze from eye to eye. needing the reassurance as though he truly believed you were saving his feelings.
“are you sure?”
you nod and part your lips, biting your lip softly as the pressure rests there. “please.”
then jason leans down and you think he’s going to kiss you. plump lips pink and swollen with tension as he washes his eyes over your face. resting his forehead on yours before closing his eyes and still not moving his hips yet. just letting the weight of what would fill you stay just in reach but out of touch.
like a threat that’s more like a promise.
“i love you so much.” he admits before pressing his lips to yours, muffling any response you could’ve had.
you moan into his mouth then, half surprise and pleasure. the feeling was unreal. the stretch around him stole the air from your lungs even though he was moving so slowly.
he pressed forward and despite the pleasureful pain it caused, letting your ankles dig into his back and pull him deeper until he was fully seated inside you. a tear slips down your face just as he parts from you to breathe and a cry escapes past your lips.
the sound is enough to startle jason. he pulls back as the tear is enough to make him second guess himself. fear echoes across on his face.
“shit—did i hurt you?”
taking a moment to compose yourself, you shake your head warily. “no,” the sound another muffled cry as he stayed impossibly still, unsure what to do.
“sweetheart, you’re crying,” leaning back trying to pull his weight off of you.
though you don’t let him move far, tightening your hold on him and locking your ankles.
“stay,” gripping him close for dear life.
his eyes stay unwavering and his hips stay still. he reaches up for your face again and brushes his thumb over your cheek before he nods at your determination.
“okay,” shakily he says. “but if it hurts—”
“it doesn’t.” you quickly interrupt. “i promise, it feels good.”
a slow smile creeps up his face. “yeah? you feel good?”
you nod again and stare straight at his lips, urging him on. slowly his resolve crumbles and he lands closer to your face to kiss you once again. pressing his perfect lips to yours like a seal and a lock.
just then he adjusts his hips, shifting them forward and rocking into you. he watches as your breath hitches and your fingernails dig into your palms. head drawing back to drown into the pillow beneath it. he groans at the slight resistance created in the friction but eases up until you let him in so easily. hands on your hips tight but not hurting, just enough to remind you where he was.
he takes your hands and pries your fingers up, interlocking them with his to distract you from the sensation. slowly inching his way inside until the tears in your eyes were accompanied by gentle moans.
then you drag him closer once again and he lets you interlock your ankles behind him.
“let me do the work,” panting by your ear. “let me show you how i love you.”
wiping your tears, his teeth shine brightly as he smiles and soothingly strokes your face. impossible gentleness from his calloused hands. when the words die, he converses with his eyes you could drown inside of.
finally he bottoms out with a soft sputter on his tongue, completely unable to mask his weight behind his heavy hips, touching your cervix from this angle. nailing dig into his hand, needing to be grounded and feel him completely, jason pants heavily. he brings your hands up higher until they rested just above your head. the loving frame he posed you in was so evident you could cry. instead, you paint him in the same light.
the ministrations resume and he moves with less restraint than you’d started with. watching how your expressions changed and the sounds escaped your lips quicker with every movement.
his deep thrusts could’ve knocked the air from your lungs but he was doing it so slowly as he inched himself further, it melted away. pleasureful bliss blooms across your skin as he kisses your neck. leaving open mouthed smooches up to your face and worked back down, surely leaving marks in their wake.
“please jay,” moaning out as though he wasn’t already fucking you. “more.”
jason fucks you like he was about to lose you then, when he looks up and sees your eyes rolling and the tear streaks on your face. letting go of your arms to lift you up and over him. he rolls onto his back and seats you in his lap, never pulling completely out, just enough that you feel what you’d need to retake.
“okay princess,” he coos. “i’ll help, yeah?”
already exhausted but willingly to please him, you grip his shoulders and start to grind down into him. he cups your ass and lifts you up, letting your weight back onto him over and over. the mix of your arousal making it easier to fuck up into you as he holds you effortlessly. shifting your hips against him weakly, jason decides to take up the task entirely but not until he really sees you struggle to fit him inside you.
a couple more whines escape you as you attempt to move, taking an inch deeper just to grind against his pelvis. minutes go by like this, when he tries to tell you it’s okay and he can do it, you shake your head like you’re already gone. then you tell him you can handle it.
both of you know you can’t.
another roll of your hips against his where a broken moan pulls him out his head causes jason’s brain to flip. he doesn’t just hold you anymore, no, he starts to get meaner. not like he wants to hurt you, but he wanted to give you what he’s wanted all night—to fuck you full.
thrusting up again and again while he watches your face contort, slowly melting onto his chest while he sits up further. moving you up and down onto him, biting his lips to control his moans when you whimper his name. then he can’t even hide that. groans and moans, gasps and sighs—they fill your ears like sinful symphony as he works himself up further. he listens to the praises you say in his ear while he does the work you should’ve, fucking up into you as though on a mission. his pace picks up as he feels you moving back into him, matching his thrusts with your own.
the peak sneaks up on you when he tangles his hand in your hair to get a look at your face. pulling just enough to see your expression and gasp when he continues his ministrations.
“i wanna watch you let go for me.” nearly whining when he admits. “you gonna let me come inside you? please?” his breathy voice coaxing you.
vigorously you nod as his pace begins to falter and his thrusts only become deeper as though he wanted to get closer.
it’s enough to spur you on. enough to push you right over the edge as you see his pink, bitten lips and the flush on his cheeks. the ruffle in his hair that proved how long this had been going on for. he looked so incredibly hot, you could die a happy woman tonight just from his good he’s fucked you.
through the peak, he carries you over, not stopping and not pausing his filthy promises. you’re clamping down around him when he sputters your name, groaning harshly and prolonging the feeling. you can feel him reaching his climax, bucking into you and movements stuttering. when he comes, you feel the pulses as he fills you. rope after rope painting you white from within. the waves of intense pleasure as his veins drag and he starts overstimulates himself. then he reaches between you to circle your sensitive bud, thrusting sloppily as you’re limp against him and throwing you into another orgasm.
practically screaming his name as you muffle a cry into his shoulder, barring your teeth and taking a bite of his supple skin. shaking as he fucks you through another climax and pushes his seed deeper inside. hand slipping off his shoulder as he slows his movements. groaning softly by your ear as he makes shallow bucks as though he didn’t want this to end.
but fucked out in his arms is his lover, drenched in sweat and slick that he didn’t know had even reached those places. and still, he was buried inside you with no indication of wanting to move.
minutes go by like this, both of you entirely spent and trying to catch your breath. he’s first to look at you and ensure that he hadn’t harmed you. eyes closed and lips parted, panting hard like you’d run a marathon as jason looks the same. leaning back further just to see the look on your face, jason kisses your forehead then.
“was that okay?” he twists at your heartstrings. “did i hurt you?”
still he was questioning himself and you were just coherent enough to shake your head and speak in a slur. “you’re perfect. my perfect boy.”
the breathy words only made him smile. his grin wide and toothy as he kisses the top of your head over and over. ignoring how your hair stuck to your head, hoping you’d do the same to him.
“sweet baby.” murmuring between his rough kisses that felt like cuteness aggression towards you. “i love you so, so much.”
you hum as you nuzzle into his chest. “mmhmf, i love you too.”
still cheesing, he holds you tight against him. part of him felt like he was dreaming with how much he loved you. his body shaking with restraint as he twitched inside you but he knew you were too exhausted to go again. leaning himself back onto the mattress to tuck you against him further, holding you there like something sacred. as though you would run or get taken away if he faltered his hold at all.
the hold on you only grounding as though you were floating over your body still, ghosting like he’d fucked you into the afterlife. sleep eases its way through your body and jason absorbs it.
only minutes later you’re completely asleep, snoring peacefully as jason drools on your head.
and there’s no place you’d rather be.
forgive me for this filth. i’m never a normal person when i’m ovulating…
Summary: you come home, very drunk, and see a very hot guy sitting on your couch… so naturally you ask him out!
It starts with a simple, high-pitched gasp in the middle of your living room.
Jason is sitting on the couch in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, laptop on his knees, mid-snack, when you stumble through the front door. You’re wearing one of his oversized jacket slung over your shoulders, your cheeks flushed red from two too many margaritas with your friends, and your hair a complete, chaotic masterpiece.
He sets his laptop aside immediately, a half-amused, half-concerned smirk already forming on his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was girls' night—"
He doesn't get to finish. The moment your eyes land on him, your hands fly to your face, covering your red-hot cheeks. You freeze in place, staring at him through your fingers as if you’ve just spotted a celebrity in a coffee shop.
"Oh," you whisper loud enough for the whole apartment complex to hear. "Oh my god."
Jason blinks, pausing. "What?"
You kick off your shoes—completely missing the rack—and take three deliberate, overly cautious, drunk steps toward the couch. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and completely starstruck.
"Who are you?" you ask, leaning over the back of the couch, resting your chin on your folded hands. You beam at him, giggling softly. "Because you are... so pretty. Like so hot. Has anyone ever told you that? You look like a whole movie star."
Jason slowly looks down at his faded t-shirt, then back up at you. A playful glint flickers in his blue eyes as the reality hits him: You have completely forgotten you're already dating him.
"A movie star, huh?" Jason drawls, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can't say I hear that one often. I'm Jason."
"Jason," you sigh, the name rolling off your tongue like a melody. You sway slightly where you stand, blushing down to your collarbone. "That's a nice name. I'm... well, you know. I'm me."
"Nice to meet you, Me," he says softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register he knows makes you melt. "What's a girl like you doing flustered in my living room?"
"I live here! I think?" You look around the apartment, thoroughly confused for a split second, before your focus snaps right back to him like a magnet. You lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Listen... I know this is crazy, but... are you single?"
You pause, then giggle, “wanna know a secret? I actually wanna marry you but I think asking you if you’re single is less advanced.”
Jason bites his lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide a massive grin. "Am I single? Well... that's a tough question."
Your face falls instantly into a dramatic, adorable pout, and you genuinely look devastated. "Oh no. You have a girlfriend?"
"I do," Jason says softly, watching your reaction.
"Is she pretty?" you ask, sniffling just a little bit, clearly heartbroken.
"She's gorgeous," Jason says, his voice softening. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently, and pulls you over the back of the couch until you tumble right onto his lap. You gasp, your hands landing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "She’s got this ridiculously cute laugh, gets super giggly when she drinks, and is currently sitting on my lap looking at me like I hung the moon."
You stare at him, your brain slowly churning through the alcoholic fog.
1... 2... 3 seconds pass.
"Wait," you whisper, your eyes going wide. "I just drank and I am fairly giggly."
"You are."
"And I'm on your lap."
"You are."
"...I'm the pretty girlfriend?!"
Jason couldn't hold it back anymore; he threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through his chest against your palms. "Yes, dummy. You're the pretty girlfriend. We've been together for over a year."
A look of pure, unadulterated triumph washes over your face. You kick your feet up, burying your burning face right into the crook of his neck, muffled giggles spilling out against his skin. "I scored so hard," you mutter into his collar. "He's huge and he's mine."
"Yeah, yeah, you hit the lottery," Jason chuckled, his broad arms wrapping snugly around your waist, pulling you close so you wouldn't slide off. He kissed the top of your head, resting his chin on your hair. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water and into bed before you try to ask me out again."
"Wait!" You pop your head back up, cheeks still bright red, poking his chest with a single finger. "So... does this mean you won't go on a date with me?"
Jason shook his head, a soft, fond smile softening his rugged features. "I'll take you on a date every single day of the week, sweetie. Now go to sleep."
just imagine— superboy prime, off world and missing you so much he’s jerking off just from the thought of you
this man was so sexually frustrated from how far apart he was from you that he had to use his fist to satisfy his cravings, pants leaving his lips and slick slaps of skin being heard
clark’s lustful eyes were on his cock, imagining it was your soft hand going up and down his thick cock, wanting your tongue to run over his length, craving for your pretty walls to suck him in and not let him go
“ohhh fuck, miss you baby” he moaned, tracing his tip with his thumb and pretending it was your thumb. “miss you so much—" a whimper was heard from him. the action made his cock twitch and clark couldn’t take it anymore
with his free shaky hand, he pulled out his phone and hurriedly unlocked it to open his photo gallery and press on the gallery that was dedicated to you
one picture was you with an outfit that highlighted all of your curves, your boobs slightly perky from how tight the top was. it made clark salivate, his fist around his cock now speeding up. the other picture was you sleeping peacefully next to him, lips still swollen after a night with him
but when clark scrolled to the next picture, it was one he had snapped a few weeks— you, looking up at him with those beautiful wide eyes and your mouth filled with his cock. his breathing increased, moans of your name leaving his lips
“fuck, i want the real deal” he panted, scrolling to the next one— a picture of you under him with a clear shot of his cock perfectly snugged inside your pussy. the camera perfectly captured your expression, eyes half lidded and lips parted with an ‘o’— a pornographic expression so lewd it made clark groan, feeling that build of pleasure slowly form
“already imaginin’ her—shit— squeezin’ me tight” he moaned, knocking his head back after tightening his grip and imagining it was your pussy instead of your walls, now thrusting his hips and fucking his hips— all imagining it was you
each picture of you— lewd or not— made his cock harden with no failure
and after a few swipes of pictures and one last stroke of his cock, clark let out a curse under his breath before his orgasm washed out. “ohh that’s it, pretty girl. milkin’ me dry” he kept mumbling to himself, his hand now sticky and slick with cum as his pace slowed down but not enough for his hand to stop
fuck, he couldn’t wait to get back home
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masterlist!
(a/n: writing this with one hand rn, literally. lets also ignore how this was too long for a drabble but idc its still a drabble)
clark liked comic books, you liked romance books. in short, both of you liked to read. and after finishing your latest book, you decided to try something with him
“fuuuuck” clark groaned, feeling your tongue slowly drag up and lick a long stripe onto his bare abs as he knocked his head back. then, he brought his head back to look down at you with pants leaving from his dazed grin. “don’t stop in a cliffhanger, baby. keep going”
and god, did he love the view— you, on your knees and looking up at him with those wide eyes he loved so much. he was this close to ripping your clothes out with his bare hands— not the first time he’s done that
you just hummed from his words, peppering small kisses lower and lower until you were met by the band of his calvin klein boxers
clark’s breath hitched when you unbuckled his belt and nudged his pants down, his grin slowly fading as he just watched you from above, his pants getting deeper from suspense.
with eyes still up at his, you dragged a long, slow stripe on clark’s cock from the tip all the way to the end of his base, making a loud, startled moan leave clark’s lips as his trembling hand immediately went to bury itself in your hair to hold your head in place
“thaaaat’s it” clark knocked his head back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed another gulp of saliva. “its all yours, baby—“ a whimper left him as he felt your tongue drag down back to his tip, slowly nudging your mouth more onto his cock as a silent plead
yeah, clark is gonna have to pick up that book sometime soon. because if there were more scenes like this hidden in your books, he'll want to find out. and he'll definitely make sure to reenact them with you
riding superboy prime while he reads his comics and pretends like he isn't about to cum in you. you cling to him like a helpless koala while you bounce, and yet he doesn't falter. if you couldn't feel how heavy his breathing was getting and the way he twitches inside of you, you'd think he didnt care at all. he sucks in a sharp breath every time you clench or cum around him and he's barely comprehending the words now, being stoic always spurs you on, and you always fall apart and tire yourself out before he breaks. only then does he set the book down and finally begin to move his hips to match your pace "you had fun baby? y'look a little tired." its laced with fake sympathy, he knows you're exhausted, you're shaking and almost in tears against his chest. "i know baby... fuck, i'm almost there."
ಇ . . . superboy-prime yaps while fucking you silly !
"no, oh my god, babe," he chuckles, hot mouth kissing the column of your neck so sweetly, letting his mumbled info-dump seep into your skin. "see, togruta and twi'lek appendages have completely different functions—"
you moan, soft and unsteady and all too susceptible to the way his cock sits so snugly in you. he rocks into your heat, seemingly unaffected by the way you gasp and flutter when he brushes the spot that makes your head spin and your pussy squelch like one of the eldritch monsters he loves.
and he just keeps talking.
he presses his flushed cheek to yours. sinks the thick fingers of his left hand into the plush of your thigh, plays with your slick, throbbing clit with his right thumb. casually lets a smirk play on his stupid, cute mouth—you can feel the impression of his dimple—as his voice dips into gravel against the shell of your ear:
"twi'lek lekku are prehensile and have some limbic cortex function, so physiological expression of emotion and language—"
sharp need coils tighter in your belly, making you whimper into the warmth of his neck. "mm, c—"
"shh, i know, baby," clark rasps, letting the hand on your thigh travel up and press firmly below your navel. you feel all of him, every ridge and vein, slipping out a pitched sound caught between a choked groan and a squeal.
he continues, though this time thrusting a little more urgently, thank god. "and togruta lekku are connected to their montrals, which—fuck, you just got so tight—ah, are used for echo-locative purposes because their species is carnivorous..."
"'m gonna cum, clark," you pant, eyes squeezing shut as the pads of your fingers press against his scarred, sculpted chest desperately. he hums, nosing your cheek and flicking your swollen bundle of nerves like a joystick.
"okay, okay, 'm sorry," is the hushed, completely unapologetic reply. clark's cock lets the filthy, wet sound of him plunging in and out of your cunt speak for his mouth, which is sucking a new hickey into your shoulder.
still, you can tell that he wants to talk—the tense line in his broad, muscular shoulders says so.
"that's it, that's it, c'mon sweetheart, give it to me..."
you cum on his cock with a choked cry, senses dimming as your system sharpens on the overwhelming pleasure spilling from your core, the rhythmic clench of your walls around him.
"shit, shit," he whimpers, syllables spilling out of his mouth as he starts to rut into you with renewed vigor, chasing his own orgasm and pushing you deeper into his batman-patterned sheets. "okay, lemme explain reverse cursed technique before i bust."
horndog boyfriends jason todd && ck-prime (18+) ₊˚⊹
"guys, you will not believe what happened today—" clark stumbles as he rushes to toe his shoes off, probably eager to rant about the idiots he had to talk to at the comic store.
the couch's squeak gets cut off as jason freezes behind you. his cock manages a single, pathetic throb in your cunt before he grumbles, "can it wait until—i don't know—we're done here?"
you can practically see the way his face pinches, even though he's buried your face halfway into the cushions. clark's mouth opens, then closes, and opens again.
"uh...you're telling me to wait, but you started without me?" he asks, offense clear in his tone.
you flick your eyes up, gaze meeting your boyfriend's sharp, tensed jaw. yeah, you think to yourself, he was definitely about to come.
"well, get over here, genius," you say to your other boyfriend, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. jason takes it a step further and pulls you against his flushed, firm chest, effortlessly taking you with him as he sits up.
"don't waste your time," he teases, hooking your pliant legs over his knees and spreading you for your third to see how deep you're taking him.
you hold your arms out to him while shifting to chide, "don't provoke him, jay."
he presses soft lips to your shoulder, so unlike the way he'd been fucking you before the welcome interruption. "sorry."
clark steps closer, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. jason throbs in your pussy again at the shield burned into clark's chest, at the taunting grin on his face. "yeah, jay, stop being an instigator."
you give him an exasperated look and readjust yourself the best you can with seven inches in your pussy. with a grunt, jason's hand flashes out and drags clark to kneel at eyelevel with your joined sexes. your thighs are trembling when he settles between them without a complaint, like second nature.
"oh," clark swallows unsteadily, crystal-blue eyes transfixed on your pussy, "i guess i can pipe down for a little."
the stretch in your legs and the pleasure simmering under your skin makes your head hazy, and clark nudging his nose against your clit feels like an afterthought.
“so pretty like this.” his words are warm on your inner thigh, smarting along your tendons. jason hisses when you flutter around him, tipping his hips up in return. your sigh trembles at the nudge of his cockhead against that spot that makes your vision go blurry.
the calluses on jason's fingers trail up beneath your soft camisole, catch on your nipple, the pert bud hitching between his thumb and forefinger. your thighs twitch again, and clark settles his warm, warm hands on your skin. the heat stays even after he moves on.
“can you touch yourself for me, baby?” when clark says it, he laps at the ring of arousal pooling at jason's base, dripping down his balls. the man behind you mutters a quiet fuck into your neck, gripping your waist for dear life.
you’re still so sensitive when you press your fingers to your clit and trace small, jerky circles over it. clark watches you and jason squirm, drinking in every flex in jason’s fingers and every attempt to close your thighs.
you whine, breathy and low, and he must be having enough of it because he dips forward and laps at your fingers as they slide between your labia. you make another pitched noise, gasping in tandem with jason.
jason lets one of his hands inch down, down, down until his fingers twist in clark's curls, until he’s pulling the black haired man closer into where the two of you are joined, until—
“fuck—clark, y’re filthy,” he groans. jason doesn’t wait for his boyfriend to respond, nipping at the tender area under your ear that makes you jerk your fingers just a little faster and moan just a little louder.
clark matches your pace, tongue cleaning the slick off your skin, mouth suckling at your clit when you pull into the apex of the tight circles you’ve been drawing. jason's right; it is fucking filthy.
he can’t stop rutting his hips up into your cunt, chasing the flat of clark's tongue as he swipes it across your fingers again. you shudder when jason moans, and clark just goes straight back to mouthing all over your clit and the hilt of jason's cock.
your stomach is starting to knot up again, neck tightening, shoulder blade drawing together. jason's as wound-up as you are, too caught in the web of your fingers and clark's tongue and the way you’re clamping just right around his cockhead.
your free hand joins jason's in the nest of black curls making a home between both of your thighs; you tug, just a bit, at the base near clark's scalp.
the man makes a low, stomach-deep sound that comes out rumbling around your stretched-out slit. jason's strained fuck goes ricocheting between your ribs, pinging right into your heat.
you coil clark's hair around and pull again; he makes the same choked noise, burying himself deeper into you and jason. you aren’t even sure if he can breathe there or if the cream that’s leaking out of your cunt is all he needs to fucking sustain himself.
clark pulls back and lets his eyes hunt the movement of your fingers slipping in your own wetness and his saliva. jason reels him back in by the back of his neck, muttering dirty nothings into your ear.
and then you swear you see stars, because clark is pressing his touch to your clit too, grazing his teeth over both of your fingers. jason grinds up for the nth time, twitching in in the way he always does when his balls are touched into that spongy spot that has you whining: please, jay, clark, right there, don’t stop—
he cleans yours and jason’s mess; the gothamite’s hips thrust mindlessly when he cums, heat spilling from your spasming cunt as your digits freeze up. clark's fingers don’t, and he keeps tracing shapes that aren’t even circles anymore all over your twitching clit.
you moan, low and spent and fuck, you can’t help but try to slam your legs close again. “cee, s’too much, please, i can’t.”
he just tilts his head to the side, shallowly digging his teeth into the plush of your thigh. clark taps at the junction of jason’s softening cock and balls—he shudders against your back, whimpering.
the freckles on clark’s forehead follow the movement of his brows when they tilt up and his breath goes beady in the humidity at the peak of your sex when he begs:
“can i please, please talk about that dumb fuck at the store while you both suck it?”
JASON PETER TODD: loves leather jackets. fights with a speed and fury that no one is able to replicate. spends nights in the boxing ring alone. alone but not lonely. sexy but not obnoxious.
BOXER! JASON TODD… growing up in gotham city; fighting was something jason found out at a young age. from stealing parts off cars to sell and get by, to becoming the apprentice of billionaire bruce wayne— jason makes his own name, under the nickname of “redhood” in the boxing ring.
BOXER! JASON TODD… swings with anger. who wins with relief. he likes the belts, he likes the titles, he loves the money… but he loves using fighting as a way to get his anger out. his poor ring opponents don’t know how much rage he has until he lands one right hook to their cheek.
BOXER! JASON TODD… who fucks gently. for a man as angry as him, his cock ruins you pretty gentle. he can get rough; absolutely… but when it comes to you and your pretty face and your pretty pussy; how could he ever destroy something that pretty? he worships the ground you walk on, he makes out with your clit slowly and steadily, his tongue sliding up and down your folds. he allows you to pull on his hair and slap his face and scratch his back… all while he sweet talks your fluttering cunt and cums deep inside it.
BOXER! JASON TODD… takes dates seriously. he will go into a fight sleepy if it meant your dates are extended. he will cancel practice to get you something if you’re down in the dumps. he will leave celebration parties early (or won’t even show) if you need him for even five minutes. he will spend so much money on you to prove to you that he loves every second with you. he will go to your siblings or friends to make sure the gifts he gives you are right. he’s a man in love and he won’t make a silly mistake like not loving you!
BOXER! JASON TODD… kisses you before every match as a good luck charm. in fact, his only loss of his career, coming at the hands of the up-and-coming champion, was the only fight in which you didn’t kiss him before hand… so his running theory that kissing him gives his body something to fight for? yeah. he sticks with it!
masterlist is here! click here for more!
ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
My Noble Knight of Hedge - You've traveled alongside Egg for a year now. And he's always been stubborn, but deciding to squire for an oafish hedge knight is a new one for him.
What's a bastard-born to do when she finds herself falling for that hedge knight and a Targaryen prince seems set on destroying him?
A (K)night in the Hedge - unofficial follow up to My Noble Knight of Hedge
secret!perv Dunk & a not-secret-at-all perv!fem reader
mdni! this is 18+ for the following: fem! receiving oral, extremely lustful thoughts over dunk the hunk, semi-exhibitionism for half a sec, and p in v
A Lie Most Egregious - You're to be married on the morrow to a man so horrible, his wives never survive more than a year. A chance encounter with a kind and honorable man might just be the chance you need to escape.
TLDR: cracking dunk
mdni 18+ for the following: virginity loss, sinking teeth into a fine man, unprotected p in v, finishing inside, fingering, maybe missed some let me know
The Waters Girl - You've been promised to Aerion since you were a girl. You thought that when your aunt passed and Maekar doomed you to marriage, that your life was over. Until a nameday tourney in Ashford changes everything.
You find yourself a hedge knight that reminds you of the life you might have if you can finally escape the dragons.
mdni! 18+ for the following: fem! receiving oral. Thigh-riding, dunk is a munch that finishes in his pants (I don’t make the rules)
(link here) A Deceit on Swift Wings - Someone with your abilities is a commodity traded and sold. You’ve been kept captive by the same sell sword for years. But the reward Maekar Targaryen has put out for the return of his son might finally be enough to earn your freedom. The only problem is having to hurt the sweet knight squiring the boy. How far will a wild bird go to be free of her cage?
Mdni 18+ for: unprotected p in v, doggy (finally wrote him hitting it from the back like a freak (i hope no one I know ever discovers my blog))
Freaky stuff I headcanon Dunk is into - Ser Duncan the Tall 18+ imagine....
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A/N: my whole womanly cycle, ever since going down the Dunk rabbithole, is just ovulation. Ovulating with no end. perhaps it's just an excuse. Maybe this is my true self... can yall blame me tho? Lol... enjoy. Anyways yes i do like this gif…. Sue me…
Content warnings: 18+ NSFW content, minors do not interact; fem!reader, lots of pussy-centered stuff, e.g. sniffing, eating… lowkey putting my own kinks onto this, just sexual stuff with our big boy Dunk the Chunk, nothing too crazy I think…
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Free use. More specifically, you dragging him to some place private and using him to please yourself. Some time after the two of you have settled into your relationship, he's explicitly told you he is at your service — and boy does he mean it. Just seeing you be pleased, happy, and comfortable with him gets him hard. His body is biologically hardwired to please you. Whether it’s his wide tongue lapping up your cunt juices; his long fingers rubbing your cute little nub, dragging against the sweet spongy spots inside you; his strong thighs you could grind on, or his fat chubby throbbing cock stretching you, stuffing you so full you forget you were ever empty… Whatever of his that you want, you can have. You don’t even need to ask. He’s grateful for you to take him at your whim.
On the outside, it seems like you're the insatiable one, always seeking him out. But you know your man; most of his waking hours, his attention is on you. Hyperaware and vigilant, but in a way that he is always anticipating… not only if you need anything, but also when you'll next use him.
When you travel, Dunk glances at a lush group of trees and wonders if you'll take his hand and drag him there. Maybe you’ll push him onto his knees, lift up your skirts and push his face on your pussy so he can wrap his lips around your little pearl to suckle on. When you two eat supper together, he sees you smile sweetly at him, and his cock twitches in his breeches. When he wakes up earlier and finds you sleeping peacefully, his heart melts with adoration (and his cock twitches in his breeches Imao).
He has a pussy sniffing kink. It goes hand-in-hand with his love for your bush. It's just something about your natural body scent that makes him go dumb, makes him pant a little heavier. Dunk loves smelling you in general. Your sweat after a long day, the smell of soap and sun in your hair, even your body odor that you feel shy about... You always smell divine to him, but he can't deny that his nose always seems to end up between your thighs.
He adores you, his kind, loving, strong, and gorgeous wife. You are too good to him, letting him spread your legs and dip his face in your bush. Soft and luscious, he nuzzles his nose into it, and breathes you in. There is no greater joy and comfort than you, your body so relaxed and open to him. His warm breath excites your womanhood, makes you more slick when he uses this thumbs spread your cunt lips wider. All for him to see, all for him to feast until there is nothing left to taste.
He would never pressure you or keep you from your hygiene routines... but if it were up to him, he'd have you lifting your skirts and sitting on his face after a long day, before your nightly swim in some river. Spread your folds and sit your slick hole right on his tongue, he swears it's the best flavor he's ever tasted. His big hands firmly but gently gripping your hips, rocking you back and forth; coating his nose, his lips, his tongue, even his chin with your cunt juices. It's the best way to drown, he thinks.
Dunk is obsessed with eating your pussy. He dives into your cunt any chance he gets, slurps and gulps you down in the same way a dehydrated man does with a tankard of cold water. Your pussy juices drip down the sides of his mouth, desperate to drink it all up. After your hips tremble and thighs squeeze his head as you cum on his tongue, he won’t let up unless you literally pry him off of you. There’s a string of saliva that connects your cunt to his lips. Licking the sides of his mouth, glistening with slick, he asks if you can give him another tasting.
Daddy kink. (Yes I'm projecting but hear me out...) It starts off as a wholesome nickname for him. He takes it as you being so happy of his care. When you call him daddy in that sweet and kind voice, his heart flutters. Chest puffing up as his pride swells, knowing he's doing right by you.
And when you moan daddy while he's stuffing you so full of his girthy cock? While your wet cunt is milking his balls of every drop, and leaking juice down both of your thighs? It takes everything within him to not pump you full of his thick, warm seed. He’d love for you to make him a father.
Knowing that you trust him so fully, appreciate all that he does, and need him so dearly... it gets him to chant "i love you" over and over. He babbles the confession with every hard thrust of his strong hips against yours, heavy balls pressing against the plump swell of your ass.
Mating press. (He loves any position where he can see your face. However...) Make him take you with both your legs over his shoulders, and he will pound your little cunt like he's trying to make you carry six babes all at once.
His biggest fear is you being afraid and distancing yourself from him, so he is extra careful and gentle with how he speaks and touches you. It took quite a long time and much convincing to have him admit he badly wants to pin you down under him and fuck you as hard as he could, pump you full of every drop of his seed.
He loves your spit on him. It's between you and the gods why you're obsessed with licking and slobbering all over his heavy, full balls and his girthy, throbbing manhood... but every time that you do, he is always grateful, so much so he whines thank you over and over with every wet stroke of your lips on him.
Squirt on him, cream on him, spit on him, sweat on him. Every thing you give him is a blessing. Sweet and nice.
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Yall, my search history is filled with stuff like "what do medieveal people call panties".
Anyways, do leave me asks if you wish to share your thoughts/ideas/or just be horny for Dunk ehehehe,,, Dunk lovers, you will find community with me.
Thinking of Dunk who loves seeing you in your lose, bright colored gowns. You look so gorgeous, all the floral colors reminding him of flowers, sunshine, and how badly he wants to fuck you.
It’s not everyday you wear such a pretty dress, him working his ass off as a knight so you can get the best things.
And he loves the way the wind blows against the fabric, just enough for him to see the sight of your legs or your hair moving to see your breast.
He’s a knight, he will always be a gentleman. But when you’re both alone, all he wants is to rip the shit out of the fabric and fuck you so silly.
So he does, bringing you up against a tree in the forest as he tries to take it off. One swipe of his big hand and the fabric is ripped in two and fallen into the mud.
Turning you over, using his muscly thigh to bring your legs apart. Two fingers on your clit, small circles that have you dizzy in seconds.
Bringing his beefy fingers inside you and you’re breathless, tears pouring down the edge of your eyelids. One thrust of his fingers and you’re crying out, begging him to just fuck you already.
Your wish is his command, untangling the rope against his waist as he brings his trousers down. His cock springs out, his tip vibrating and oozing with precum.
You feel it against your ass, him smacking his cock against the skin of your ass to tease you. He aligns himself by your entrance as you whine out, again asking if you really want this.
You respond without a second thought, practically on your knees for him to fuck you.
His cock thrusts in you with such force, your hands grabbing on to the bark of the tree with intensity.
The heat of the summer air was overbearing, sweat dripping down your body. Dunk takes a second to adjust, his breaths fanning down your body as you shiver.
You felt him bring himself out, a slight whimper at the emptiness of your cunt.
But he thrusts back in, a bolt of electricity running down your body. Your legs felt loose like jelly, tensing against his thrusts.
You felt his cock press against your sweet spot, your stomach doing flips. Hearing him groan your name, strong hands against your sides as he holds you up right.
The heat was too much, trying not to imagine someone walking in on the two of you. But the feeling of him inside you was so overwhelming, the sudden thought flying away from your mind.
You felt his abdomen against your ass, skin to skin filling the forest as his thrusts grew more powerful and faster.
Your whole body felt as if it was in front of the sun, tension growing from your toes as sweat dripped down tour body.
Your legs started to tremble, your hands growing sore from how hard you were holding onto the tree. Your abdomen was tensing, each hit from his thrust making your pussy tighten against him.
Dunk groaned out, a deep growl that reached the birds on the top of the trees. He was desperate, his cheeks growing red as his chest pressed against your back.
He was close, and so were you. Whiteness expanded over your vision, feeling your whole body start to tighten. Your hands grabbed onto his arms, feeling his muscles tense as your nails digged into the skin.
He didn’t even cry out in pain, too much in bliss at the feeling of your pussy tightening against his cock.
His grip on your hips was strong, almost bringing you up in the air. One thrust, then two, then another and he’s cumming loads inside you.
You followed right after, almost losing your balance if he wasn’t holding on to your body.
Few more breaths and you two were set back in reality, frowning at the sight of your pretty dress now in pieces.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” He blushes at his words, though holding you close in effort to protect your naked body.
You couldn’t help but smile at his words, though you wonder how you’ll manage through the Summer woods naked and still horny as ever.
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