clark "that was a big one, huh? didn't that feel good?" kent that talks filth in your ear while he's playing with your cunt; two middle fingers hooked inside, heel of his palm pressed over your clit. he toys with it, with you — teasing both your mind and pussy as he controls the way in which you feel.
it's not just about your cunt, with him. it's about your mind too. he'd argue that it needs more stimulating than anything else. so when he's playing with your pussy, working you up more and more, he's lips are against the shell of your ear whispering uncharacteristic obscenities like a guide.
he talks to you in such a dulcet tone, words of praise and admiration making you feel the most idolised and most adored. he tells you how good you sound and how pretty you look, speaking it to you like it rolls off his tongue.
and every time that he makes you cum, he's talking you through it, encouraging the rippling feeling within your body with little, "that's it, there we go,"s
when you finally come down from each and every high, he's telling you how good you did and how well you responded to him. only it's followed with a soft question, an ask about your climax and if you, "want another one?" querying whether you have it in you for just one more.
i’ve been reading the knightfall saga for the first time and i only just started knightquest, but i’m thinking hard about doting on bruce wayne during his long recovery from bane. this man who constantly pushes away help, being forced to accept love and care… growing to crave it even if he’d never say it out loud. the potential on both sides for a bit of toxicity, manipulation, dependence. yummm
INSPECTION REPORT: you challenge your husband by telling him that his dick isn't that big... and he isn't shy about proving you completely and utterly wrong!
ⓘ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃 SYSTEM OVERVIEW: 18+ CONTENT, fem! wife! reader, rough sex, big dick! jason todd, a shit ton of dirty talk, hair pulling, ass smacking, size kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dom! jason todd!
jason was just trying to get to bed.
he got out of the shower, shirtless and sweatpants sitting low on his waist. the towel was wrapped over his shoulders, his hair damp but trying to dry. his frame was getting your attention even when it didn't mean to.
you were on the bed in nothing but one of jason's shirts and nothing on the bottom, no underwear or no panties. you watched with a sharp gaze as jason walked around the bedroom, his steps soft. his figure never failed to turn you on, make your cunt so wet; his biceps that were too big for their own good, scars on his chest and jaw that became your favorite places to kiss over the years, his hair so perfectly sitting on his head with the white strands curling in front... he was too damn irresistible.
no wonder you had kids with this bastard.
he was muttering about how your teenage son was getting too big for his own good.
"hun, he's getting fuckin' huge. i wasn't his size when i was sixteen." he tells you, picking up something off the floor and putting it on your dresser.
you shrug, rubbing your thigh right above the end of the stolen shirt you wore. "jay, of course he's going to be big... he's your son anyway." you try to reason with him— telling jason todd that he was a big man isn't even a shocking thing to say... but you had a little idea in your mind.
jason rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "i am not that big, honey." he tries to argue with you, grabbing the towel on his shoulder to rub the water that's trying to drip down his forearm.
there you go. that's your entry. you smirk, and with no issue, your words left your mouth. "you're right about that..." you began, rubbing an itch behind your ear. "with your dick not being that big anyway..."
he stops his towel's movements; he looks at you like you just smacked him. his spine straightens, his eyebrows furrowing. no way you, of all people, just told him that. "what did you say, baby?" he questions you, his voice low enough that you could barely hear it, but the tone is what makes you not ignore him.
you shrug, watching him walk over to you on your side of the bed. "you heard me; your dick is not that big." you double down on your stance— which wasn't even true because that same dick was the same one that stretched you out like crazy.
jason doesn’t even give you a damn moment to speak or explain yourself.
he drops the towel to the bedroom floor, and before you could blink, he grabs your hips, shoving you face down onto the mattress. your face first in the pillows, hand immediately shooting to the sheets as your ass is put in the air. his hands are rough against your hips, shoving your shirt up and revealing your bareness to him. he gets on the bed, knees dipping into the bed and changing the weight.
"you really want to try that with me and have no underwear on?" he asks you, dragging his cock out of his pants and lining up the blunt head of his thick dick against your folds, slow and taunting to you. "you've carried my children, you've begged for this cock this morning and i gave it to you three times this week and it's barely wednesday... and now you're saying my dick isn't that big. say that shit again, do it."
you look up at him, whining as his tip gets sucked into your cunt so easily. you try to speak, you really do, but a moan suppresses that, a moan that was too loud for it's own good.
he laughs at your futile, downright pathetic attempt at speaking, his left hand holding his cock as his right hand presses down on your lower back and forces you to arch. "good, that's what I thought... now take it like a good girl."
then, he slams into you with no issue whatsoever, pushing into you with one slick thrust. your walls instantly open up to him, knocking the air out of your lungs in a breathtaking thrust.
his hands are enormous on your hips, his rough palms and fingers pressing bruises onto your hips as he pounds into your cunt, relentless and precise. each thrust rocks the bedframe against the wall, making the headboard groan and the bedframe creak.
all you can do is moan, your tone whiney. you can't get a damn word out, all that comes out is an incoherent sound, your messy little whimpers make jason's grip tighten and him grumble out a groan.
"not that big, huh?" he growls, pounding into you so damn hard that the wet sounds between your cunt and his cock sound pornographic. "funny, sweetheart, 'cause this 'not-that-big' dick had you screaming for more last night..."
your vision blurs, eyes rolling back as your hand shoots from the mattress up to the bedframe, fingers trying to get a good grip on the wood. "jason! o-oh— ngh! jay!"
"oh, so you're nice now?" his right hand moves up and grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up just enough to see your face, the arch in your back so damn sinful as your ass jiggles with each thrust. "just a minute ago you had all that mouth..."
moaning at feeling his fingers yanking on your hair, you nod your head, mouth too full with moans.
he grunts under his breath, voice dripping with a smug heat that makes your pussy flutter. "you carry my kids, you cum on my cock every night, you take every damn inch i give you, and somehow you still decide to run your mouth." your body jolts with each one of the snaps of his hips. "i'm starting to think you want me to break you..."
legs shaking violently, your chest heaving and your eyes rolling back, you can't help but nod your head at his words. "y-yes, jason, please— oh fuck! ru- ruin me..."
"oh that's it." he whispers in your ear, licking the back of it. "you just wanna be fucked so stupid by the daddy of your kids, by your husband. you want this pussy fucked?"
"fuck! ye-yes jason, fuck me. fuck me, 's-so good." you cry out, nails digging deeper into the headboard. his right hand stays in your hair while his left hand cups one of your asscheeks.
"that's it." he growls, rutting into you. his left hand lifts up and cracks against your asscheek, smacking it as the sound echos through the bedroom, mixing in with the bedframe creaking and the moans. "since you're so damn convinced i'm not that big, i think this pussy won't mind if i go just a little deeper, huh?"
he angles his hips a certain way, and with the same speed and same ferocity, he hits direclty on your g-spot, making you see stars and getting you so damn close.
"oh fuck! ja-jay! right there! oh right t-there!" you babble, feeling his hand smack your ass again before sliding down on your body.
his hand goes in between your thighs, thick fingers finding your clit and pressing down on it, rubbing circles in it mercilessly, his hand on your cunt keeping in speed with his thrusts.
"come on, mama." he murmurs, knowing what the pet name does to you, he used it to rile you on, especially in that low tone of his. "give it to me, cum on my cock, i know you want it."
and without needing any more, your orgasm slams into you so damn hard you scream into the mattress and your legs giving out completely. your body trembles violently as you sob out his name, cumming all over his cock and your vision whitening out.
jason grunts, feeling your cunt clench harshly down on his cock as he reaches his own orgasm, spilling deep inside of your folds with a groan, white painting your walls.
his right hand loosens in your hair, going to your shoulders and massaging them as you come down from your high, and the feeling in his sticky cum being shot into your cunt, his soft grinds from overstimulation slowing down and bringing you back down to reality.
"there you go... come back to me, hun..." he encourages, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto your cheek. still buried deep inside of you, he can't help but whisper next to your face. "not that big, my ass."
you move your head to the side to look into his eyes and press a kiss onto the scar on his cheek. "shush, big guy..."
click here for main masterlist! 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃
AUTHOR'S NOTE: meow. dilf! jason todd got me going absolutely insane. he's so fucking hot, he's literally bruce's twin. dilf! jason todd and dilf! dick grayson, eiffel tower me, now! i saw him in 5 minutes and KNEW I had to write sum about him, he’s so fucking fine—
thank you for all the support in every way possible! all support is very much appreciated! all content created on this blog is mine, do not copy or sent it through ai!
— 𝜗𝜚⋆ your husband gets clingy and sappy during sex
it always starts heated, hungry, almost borderline feral when you get your hands on each other. the rough yet gentle way his voice echoes in your ear at every promise he tells you he’s gonna do to you: knows it makes your knees weak and pussy wet.
his touch always traveling around your body, knowing it like the back of his hand, knows what you like and don’t like, knows which buttons to press to have you trembling and shaking. whispers the dirtiest things in your ear while he’s got this finger stuffed in your cunt and you can’t do anything but grip his wrist tightly and moan into his mouth when he kisses you.
but there’s also times when it shifts, the entire bedroom becomes soft all of a sudden, like now; sat back on his knees, thumb rubbing the slowest circles on your clit while his can’t take his eyes off the way his cock eases in and out of you with one leg pushed off to the side and the other bent over his shoulder. “baby,” he murmurs, deep and low in his throat, his lips littering wet kisses against your leg. “you’re so pretty, baby.”
your eyes snap open at his words, dazed and confused. “huh?” through tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, you catch sight of him, but he isn’t looking at you. he’s fixated on your pussy. your lips part with another string of soft whines, hand loosely pressed against his chest when he’s slowly grinding into you; the thickness of his cock stretching you out perfectly. “what did you say?”
if he hears you, he choses not to say anything, not yet anyway, too entranced with how he fills you up, eyes hooded and breath stuttering at the warmth of you wrapped around him. doesn’t seem to register the way your nails sink into the skin of his chest each time he pulls out just enough to have you whimpering in protest before pushing right back into you. each thrust knocking your breath out of you.
it’s when his eyes flicker up and meet yours finally, lowering your leg from his shoulder, that he smiles; the lazy and giddy kind, before he’s leaning over you. his body, made up of pure muscle and strength, cages yours beneath him. “you’re pretty too, sweetheart,” his face is instantly tucked into the crook of your neck, hot breath against your skin, causing you to shiver and clench around him. “so pretty, my pretty lady,” he continues, hands running up and down your thighs before he’s wrapping them around his waist for you, body lowering more onto yours.
you gasp into his shoulder, the action of his body pressing down onto you causes his cock to sink deeper. “baby,” you whine, biting his shoulder, hands running up and down his back, moving to his sides just to feel the hotness of his skin before they’re moving back up and around his back; the muscle is hard beneath your touch.
his thrusts are slow and gentle, the thick vein on the underside of his cock throbs against your walls, rough hands slide down your legs and over your hips. his ragged breaths and groans vibrate against your neck and the sharpness of your nails sink into his back. “my pretty baby, so sweet and soft,” he murmurs once more, teeth nipping at your neck. “you’re so perfect, so mine.”
he’s gone, that much you realise, and you also realise he’s not even phased by the way your nails continue to rake up and down his back each time he grinds into you, his mind and body focused on how good you feel wrapped around his cock, how you feel so pliable beneath him. those same hands that make you feel safe no matter what, grip your hips tighter once his pace gets more faster.
“m’yours,” you choked out, the sound a mixture between a moan and a sob; either way it goes straight to his head, panting into your now sweaty neck. “all yours, honey please.”
“you’re so perfect, m’so lucky to have you,” he can’t stop, his fingers sinking deeper into your hips and nose sliding up and down your neck.
the plap plap plap of skin slapping echo the room, your ankles locked tightly around him, heels pressing into his lower back each time he drags his cock out, enough to make you whine, before sliding right back in, the tip of his cock catching onto the spot inside you that has stars behind your ears and toes curling. “feels ‘shoo good,” you moan, hips moving on their own accord to meet his thrusts.
your arm wraps around his neck, holding him close to you and you moan, gasp and whine into his ear softly. his sweaty body sticks to yourself like glue, if anything his grip on your hips tighten, lips attaching to your neck hungrily. “so warm, holy shit” his voice slurs slightly, one hand quickly moving between your bodies where he finds your throbbing clit. “so wet,” his fingers work slowly, drawing figure eights on the bud, groaning each time you clench around his cock. “you’re so fucking perfect, fuck honey.”
his words melt your heart, makes your eyelids flutter closed just for a second; or longer, you can’t tell anymore, basking in his love and affection. “mmm love you,” you gasp, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulder.
“love you more,” he pants, lifting his head from your neck and pressing his forehead to yours, eyes hooded. “love you so much, my best girl, pretty wife.”
you cry out against his cheek, walls fluttering around his cock once again at his words, never fails to make you shy and happy no matter how many times he says it. “more, need more, please, honey—”
“wanna feel you, need to feel you, just for a little linger—ohmygod,” another particular thrust of his hips has your legs tightening around him and a deep rumble from his throat causes his pace to falter for just a split second. “pussy was made for me, you were made for me, baby, hm? yeah? lemme feel you for longer, need to, mmmm, that’s it.”
“can’t, need you to move faster.”
his lips curl up into a smirk and you cling to his shoulder tighter when he moves his head towards your neck again, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “lemme play with you a little longer, baby, yeah?”
jason who started smoking when he was a preteen in crime alley, and picked it up again once he became lucid after the pit. it helped him feel normal after returning from the grave; a rare connection to his life before. that, and the nicotine soothed his frayed nerves.
he knows it’s not good for him, honest! he won’t argue with you on that. it just feels too good; it’s too easy to lean on it when things get stressful. they call it a crutch for a reason.
you weren’t sure whether you approved of his ‘habit’ (admittedly he does look sexy), but all of his ashtrays were sterile and lifeless — colourless glass or featureless aluminum. the least you could do was bring some joy into it. one day while thrifting, you’d come upon a little glass ashtray, pink and heart-shaped.
a soft laugh rumbled from his chest when you gave it to him. “thought you didn’t like me smoking, baby,” he remarked wryly, turning it over in his hands. he planted a kiss on your temple and vowed to use it until he smoked his last cigarette.
***
over time, he develops a collection, courtesy of you. there’s a cartoon frog, a marijuana leaf, an intricate silver dish, a coffin (he finds this one particularly amusing), and a dozen others just made from colourful glass. a couple of them are tenderly misshapen attempts from amateur pottery classes. each of his safe houses has a different one — each ashtray serves as a little reminder of you when he’s away from home.
right now, just the sight of the smouldering cigarette in that glass heart dish is making his heart ache. his boots are kicked up on the desk. he’s got fifty different cctv feeds open on his dozen-odd monitors, criminal case files and breaking news pages, but his eyes are glued to that little pink ashtray.
fuck it, he thinks. there’s nothing going on tonight. all his contacts are reporting as planned, nothing of note has popped up, there are no big moves happening. his fingers twitch towards the dwindling cigarette. bringing the filter between his lips and taking a drag, he knows there is zero reason he can’t go home to you right now.
so he does. he stubs out the cigarette butt and shuts off the computer. the room goes dark as all those blinking monitors sleep for the night. a twinge in his chest; he’s here in a dark, concrete bunker and you’re probably cozied up in the living room with your book. it doesn’t matter. he’s coming home to you.
it’s getting to that point in the year where the evening air is balmy even with the fresh breeze, instead of piercing through to the bone like the few months prior. jason doesn’t even need a jacket, really, but he keeps it on because he likes to tuck his hands into the pockets. the magnolia trees have almost shed all their flowers in favour of glossy, green leaves. the sun only set a couple hours ago; the scent of sun on pavement is still ripe.
he practically throws himself up the fire escape. it’s frantic, almost irrational. he slides open the living room window, then there’s the thud of his boots hitting the hardwood, his eyes move towards the couch as if magnetized and—
there you are. his sweet baby.
just like he thought you’d be, you’ve got your book and your favourite blanket, cuddled up in your favourite spot on the couch, with your favourite drink on a coaster near you. something in his chest immediately settles, his mind goes quiet. that right there — the peace you bring him? that’s better than any nicotine rush.
after shedding his jacket and boots, he lowers himself to his knees on the floor in front of you. jason nudges your book out of the way and instead lays his head in your lap. deep breath in, deep breath out. your familiar scent fills his lungs (again, better than nicotine).
“you’re home early,” you muse quietly, fingers slipping into his fluffy locks. it’s late, but not according to gotham’s vigilantes.
“couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs. “comms were quiet, no big moves happenin’ tonight. besides, i’d be useless out there if anything did happen; only thing runnin’ through my mind is you, angel.”
his gaze meets yours as he leans into your touch, making him look like a puppy in need of attention. jason’s eyes are an interesting colour which has always fascinated you: they’re almost hazel, but the green is so bright that you’re not quite sure it qualifies. regardless, it’s hypnotizing— he’s hypnotizing.
“i’m not sure what you’re trying to butter me up for,” you tease, “but it might work.”
“swear to god i’m not,” he replies, voice softened by your thumb now smoothing over his cheekbone. his soft (even if a little chapped) lips press to the fleshy part of your palm just below your thumb. “just… it’s stupid, but i kept lookin’ at that ashtray you got me. y’know, the pink heart? couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”
a soft hum resonates from your chest. at first glance, most people think jason is some tough, unfeeling delinquent. they don’t know how much he craves the soft warmth of your skin. you’d call him touch-starved, but you both know he’s not starved for it at all. not as long as you’re around.
“should we go to bed?” you tilt his head up a little more towards you.
those big, pretty eyes stare back. he nods.
“are you gonna go smoke first?” you ask, leaning down to peck his lips.
“don’t need it,” comes the answer. “so long as you keep kissing me.”
i don’t know what this is or where it came from but it’s been sitting in my drafts for two weeks so i’m releasing it like a feral animal. jason’s eye colour to me depends on my mood but i was feeling hazel today #canonwho
dick grayson is not going to have sex with you tonight, sorta. dick grayson x fem!reader crack + smut. cw : dry humping, handjob, clitplay, titplay, no piv. he’s big, it’s mentioned. maybe cumplay? slight ric grayson warning yikes 🗒️ welcome to the writer’s barely concealed fetish (dry humping) lmao + forgive me pls now playing : undercover lover – smooth 🎧
1013 Parkthorne Avenue was a little world that belonged to Nightwing alone.
It wasn’t home, not exactly, and wouldn’t be for long if he finished his mission quick enough, but it was a place he could crash, a place to survey Blüdhaven’s streets, a place to patch himself up and beyond his better judgment he found himself turning it into an actual home — potted plants on the windowsill, a couple records on the shelves, hanging polaroids on the wall next to his bed.
A little bracelet you gave him still sitting on the nightstand. A neighborly gesture, you said.
Was she giving me bedroom eyes? Am I seeing things? He had whispered to himself that day as you walked away, the words catching the little wire clipped under his collar.
Oh my God, he’s got the hots for his neighbour.
“I don’t know if you remember, but just in case you forgot, Mr. Love Doctor—” The modulated voice from none other than Jason, Red Hood himself, echoed into Dick’s earpiece.
Dick huffed, the fist he had clenched around a rather generous little bouquet of flowers he got at that new place that opened downtown loosened slightly. A neighborly gesture, he told himself.
“But breaking your cover is against code.”
“What code?”
“The code I made up to stop you from blowing your cover over a crush—”
“It’s not a crush!” He argued back, and just then you’d opened the door. His heart lurched in his chest and he practically shoved the flowers towards you, your eyes widening in complete amusement.
“Is somebody dying?” You chuckled. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ric?”
Ric. He’d forgotten that’s what he told you his name was. Suddenly he wants to die.
Dick shrugged, barely managing to muster that charming smile he was known for — his credentials being that he won ‘Most Charming Smile’ two years in a row at Gotham Prep, by the way — “I… uh, I was home and I figured you might be home… so…”
“So, you, guy-who-is-never-home, came all the way up here just to give me these?” You teased, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m flattered. What’s the occasion?”
He felt like he could swallow a rib with how nervous he was.
“I mean, what’s a few flowers between friends?”
“Right…” you pursed your lips in disbelief and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know, if you actually asked me out, I’d say yes.”
“Please!” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “I mean, yes— please, I would love to. I would love to ask you out, is what I’m saying—” the words tumbled out and you erupted into a fit of giggles, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Come back here at seven, pretty boy.”
While he got ready for the unauthorized date, there was Jason in his ear again like the Devil from The Bible.
“Sooo, does she know Ric has like a dozen wires taped to his chest or are you gonna wait til you get naked to explain?”
Dick rolled his eyes, buttoning his shirt up. “It’s a first date, nobody is getting naked.” He eyed himself in the mirror, raking a few fingers through his hair. “And for your information I won’t be wearing a wire.”
A loud howl of laughter crackled into his ear. “Ten bucks she walks him like a dog.” It was Roy.
“Fifteen,” came the crackle of another comm. “You’re underestimating how easy he really is.”
“Babs?” Dick’s eyes widened.
“Sorry, loverboy,” she replied in his ear. “Money talks.”
He slumped at the edge of his mattress, fiddling with his shoes and grumbling under his breath. “Would it kill you people to give me some privacy?” Admittedly, the prospect of something more happening hadn’t crossed his mind until now.
Now he was really nervous. “It’s not happening,” Dick murmured, more to himself than his inquisitive audience. “I’m on a mission. I have great self control. I’m practically a veteran in the field. I can handle this.”
Jason whistled low, then singsonged into his ear. “You willing to put some money on that?”
Dick Grayson is not going to have sex with you tonight.
He’s Nightwing. This is a stealth operation, a covert campaign of intelligence gathering. He’s strong willed, he is determined. The wires are gone, so is his earpiece and he is a man on another kind of mission. He will not falter.
You’re looking up at him with those bedroom eyes again.
The conversation after dinner that had something to do with how he keeps his house plants alive had died the moment you said to him, “Hey, do you wanna see my plants?”
Now it’s just heavy breathing, bodies too close and tension so thick you can taste it because he was stupid enough to get walked like a dog to your bedroom.
Dick’s hand is under your top, cupping one of your soft tits in a large palm. His thumb gently circles your soft nipple, feeling it stiffen instantly. You have one potted plant by your balcony door. It looks like it died a week ago.
This is a honeytrap.
“…We shouldn’t,” he whispers, voice already wrecked and slightly hoarse from arousal, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.
Yet, you whimper softly and arch into his touch, pushing your breast harder into his hand.
He has two hundred dollars on this. Two hundred dollars, his dignity and the sorrow of letting Jason and Roy of all people borrow his car.
But he kisses you.
It starts tender — a little bit guilty, but desperate. Within seconds it turns filthy with your tongues sliding into each other’s mouths, lips barely catching on teeth and stifled moans trapped in hollowed cheeks.
Dick groans into your mouth as he squeezes your tit harder, kneading the soft, pillowy flesh. His mouth moves to your jaw, the length of your neck, the back of your ear. He’s kissing every bit of skin he can find.
His other hand grabs ahold of your hip, sliding you further down the sheets and flush against him. You can feel his cock, hard and leaking pre as it throbs against your thigh through his pants.
“Ric…” you moan. Right, that… that’s a problem.
Dick’s brows go tight and he lifts his mouth from your collarbone, panting as he rests his forehead against yours.
“You can call me Richard,” he breathes. “Okay?” You nod and he wastes no time to latch onto your lips again, his hips rocking forward against your thigh. “You’re so beautiful…”
You reach down and undo the button of his pants, the sound of the zipper almost echoing in the dark room. Your hand slides quickly into the fabric, under the cotton of his boxers to find him twitching at attention.
He hisses sharply. “Wait— fuck—”
“Oh my God,” you whisper, as your fingers wrap around his thick cock. You get them all the way around his girth on the second try and squeeze slightly. “You’re… wow, you’re big.”
Dick looks down at you with a shit eating grin and you roll your eyes. His mouth latches onto your breast and you arch up against him with a cry.
You start stroking him slowly, your hand pumping his cock while he kneads both your tits, squeezing and playing with them like they belong to him — or like he hasn’t seen a pair in centuries. “Fuck— that feels so good…” he moans against your neck, thrusting up into your fist. “You’re so good…”
He snakes a hand down and dips two fingers into your panties, marvelling at the wetness he finds.
He rubs over your needy folds then parts them, stroking up and down and circling over your throbbing clit as the front of your underwear turns dark from slick. “So fucking wet… did you get like this for me? Is this what you wanted?”
You whimper against him, your other hand reaching up to tug at his hair. “I want you,” you whisper, mouth meeting his again in a sloppy kiss.
Dick adjusts himself between your legs, the weight of him practically pinning you under him. You release his cock to push his pants down, your fingers slick with his pre.
“Come here,” he seizes your wrist and brings your digits into his mouth, the heat of his tongue licking your fingers clean and tasting himself on your skin while he rubs your clit, grinding the heel of his palm down with dizzying force.
“Richard— fuck— too fast—!”
“I know, just ride through it, baby,” he coos at you, kissing your hairline. His body folds over you as his hips come down, grinding his underwear clad cock right against your pussy.
He thrusts his hips back and forth, his hot, heavy cock humping you, as the thick ridge of his shaft rubs perfectly over your folds through your soaked panties.
“Shit, you’re leaking all over me…” he groans against your lips. “Prettiest pussy creaming just from this… I barely touched you…” He feels lightheaded from need.
“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, your hand finding his length again, pumping him in short tight strokes while he fucks you through your clothes and torments your pussy with his fingers. “But it feels so good. Don’t stop— ah, Richard, please.”
Suddenly, Dick thinks he’s so easy. He can’t even find shame.
You shudder hard and your back bows, a silent scream ripping from you as your orgasm crashes down, thighs shaking around his hips and tears leaking from the corner of your eyes.
He kisses you while you come down — deep, passionate and hungry like he’s in love with you, as he grinds against your sopping cunt. Your panties are so soaked they’re sticking to your skin and the tip of his clothed cock as the obscene wet sound of fabric rubbing against your creamy folds fills the dark room.
Dick’s hand slides down and he yanks your panties to the side, exposing your puffy little pussy as you jerk his cock faster. You watch him as he looks between you two, your chest heaving, and the gears turn in his head.
So much for the code.
Now he’s got his underwear pushed down and his swollen cock directly against your bare, dripping cunt, sliding up and down, coating the length of him in your frothy cream, fucking up against your palm as you press down flat on his shaft, pushing his cock flush against you.
“Fuck, honey… I can feel how hot you are,” he pants. “If I put it in right now, I’m gonna cum.” Your legs wrap tight around his waist, each bump of his tip against your bare, sensitive clit has you trembling in his arms.
“Richard—”
“I know,” his breath comes harsh, strained. Your hips are moving on their own, bucking up to meet his every hump and the sticky sounds are borderline pornographic. “I know you want me to… Tell me you want it, baby.”
“Fuck me,” you whine, your mouth reaching his neck, the harsh bob of his adam’s apple, the underside of his jaw. “Fuck me, please. Feels so good…”
“Oh fuck, fuuuck, baby— I know, I know,” but he keeps grinding harder, faster, his pelvis nearly slamming against yours. You can feel and hear the plap! plap! plap! of his heavy balls pressing against you with every roll of his hips. “I’m so close…”
You’re both breathing like your lungs are turning blue.
You stroke his cock faster, hand flying up and down his thick shaft while he humps against your bare pussy. Every thrust has him sliding through your swollen folds, leaking all over you.
“I’m gonna cum—” Dick chokes out suddenly, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh fuck, it’s right there— I’m gonna cum—!”
You wrap a fist around him and aim it right at your pussy, pumping furiously and he lets out an open mouthed cry, so beautiful and almost girlish. His eyes roll back into his skull as he jerks forward, cumming hard.
Thick, heavy ropes of hot cum shoot across your pussy, dripping down your clit, painting your folds and soaking your hole.
You’re both panting, staring down between your bodies and Dick’s eyebrows pinch from the exertion, his arms wrapping around you.
He doesn’t think about the fact he’s now got two hundred dollars less to his name. Or the fact he quite literally gave you part of his government name.
“Hey,” he whispers into your neck once you’ve both stopped gasping for breath.
You hum in response.
“Can I take you out to dinner?” Dick asks, a hand stroking up and down your side.
“Sure, I really do need those gardening tips.” You nod against his skin and he smiles wide, absolutely giddy.
Well, who said he couldn’t possibly turn 1013 Parkthorne Avenue into a real home?
“Fuck, baby, please—” Oh, the desperation in Jason’s voice was pitiful.
The vampire’s fists were clenched tightly, and his eyes squeezed shut as though that could help him blend out the sweet scent of your blood. Several years of experience were in vain when faced with the delirium that your life’s essence taunted him with. It was a damning thing.
He was trying to be strong for you, fighting to withstand his hunger for your blood. You, his sweet human girlfriend, smelled like the most delicious little dessert—far more tempting than any other human he’d encountered before. It was a miracle you’d remained unbitten this long.
But now with your palm sliced open by none other than yourself, oh, how could Jason possibly resist the intense fragrance cloaking all of his senses? He was practically suffocating on the sweetness that was blanketing, no, smothering, his nostrils. “It’s okay, Jay,” you reassured him in that soft tone, like you weren’t currently risking your damn life.
“You can feed from me. I know you want to.” The smile you gave him was so full of warmth and care. It was in no way befitting the disaster that was already storming up in his mind. “I can’t. Don’t know if I’d be able to stop,” he gritted through his teeth, fangs protruding eagerly.
With your uninjured hand, you reached over to his pretty face, before cupping his cheek tenderly. Fingers brushing against the skin turned darker with angry, red veins; your eyes were filled with love, not fear.
Jason’s eyes fluttered open at the gentle touch, looking up at you like you were his angel and tormentor all the same. “You can. I trust you,” you said confidently. Then, you raised your bleeding palm to his lips.
Any restraint in his body vanished. The base instincts of a predator set in, and god, you were the most willing prey to ever fall into his claws.
His fangs dug into the bleeding wound, green eyes rolling back at the heavenly taste of your blood finally reaching his lips. A little gasp escaped your parted lips at the sensation, but you still didn’t pull back. Shit, you tasted better than he could have ever imagined you would. Jason was growing dizzy with pleasure, and he was doing so fast.
While he sucked the blood from your palm, you caressed his cheek and whispered sweet encouragements to your vampire boyfriend.
“Hah, you’re doing so well, baby,” you breathed the words out like you were the one currently lacking oxygen—all choked up and hazy.
The sound of your voice snapped him out of the endless appetite he was harboring. Jason was still drowsy with the flavor of you when he pulled back from your providing hand, red liquid staining his mouth. For you, Jason would learn to fight the urges of his violent nature.
You tasted like a paradise he was never meant to relish in.
And Jason knew you would let him pass its gates regardless.
em’s masterlist | jason todd masterlist wc: 0.5k request: no
˙⋆✮ a/n: all right, i lied. i couldn’t resist writing this, especially since i promised starr that i’d post a vampire!jason drabble. k bye now fr!!
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munch!jason who starts every act of intimacy with some form of teasing, whether it's ghosting his fingertips over your skin, whispering in your ear, or breathing heavily on your panties to see how worked up he can get you before undressing.
munch!jason who sucks light hickeys on your inner thighs first to "appreciate his meal" & will gently bite down on your flesh whenever you start moaning before he "even does anything real."
munch!jason who plucks the elastic of your panties and feigns shock at the sight of you already dripping for him, cooing that his pretty girl is "just so happy to see me!" Before giving a teasing lick over your clit.
munch!jason who always groans when he latches his lips onto you, falling into place, sucking and slurping like his life depends on making you cum.
munch!jason who drives himself crazy trying to draw out the little moans & gasps you make, hooking his arms around your thighs and moaning against you whenever you tangle your fingers in his hair.
munch!jason who tends to intertwine one of your hands with his when you start moaning his name, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he rolls his tongue over your clit, almost teasingly slow, attempting to coax out his name again.
munch!jason who loves watching your face twist in pleasure, moaning against you every few minutes to see you shudder & feel your thighs tighten around his head.
munch!jason whose hips roll against the mattress whenever you start pulling his hair, begging him to keep going, eyes fluttering as he struggles to focus on anything but your touch.
munch!jason goes crazy when he feels you start tensing up, tongue flicking your nub relentlessly, pressing his face flush against your trembling cunt, & he almost creams his boxers at the feeling of you releasing all over his face.
munch!jason who licks you clean after you cum, almost driving you to a second orgasm before pulling back to show off the juices clinging to his lips and chin, wiping them off slowly while maintaining eye contact.
munch!jason kisses you quickly. Letting you taste yourself on his lips before rolling you on top of him and whispering how he'd love it if you let him eat it again, with you on top this time.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : go read bae's muncher tim fic fr. Nora's smut fics should be required reading.
a few centered around his family—he always to the left of dick, always makes cass her plate, always brings dessert to gatherings because nobody can do it as well as he can.
a few about his work—he always starts on the south end of gotham and works toward the north, always cleans his guns an hour before patrol, always puts his right boot on before his left one.
then, he has several for you.
he always flicks your sky projector on fifteen minutes before you’re done getting ready for bed, he always lets you take a bite of food first before picking his fork up, he always lets you read the prologue of a book he’s considering purchasing.
but your personal favorite?
jason always lets you kiss him first.
he’ll lower his face to yours, keeping the space between the two of you until you lift your lips to slot against his. whenever he wants affection, he’ll draw closer, look at you with those utterly compelling eyes of his, and wait.
he waits until you respond—whether it be reciprocating his energy or not.
he doesn’t take from you. he loves whatever you give him, even if it’s merely eye contact.
even then, he’ll graciously accept it because it’s from you.
jason has a habit of waiting for you to kiss him first, not because he’s nervous or shy.
he waits because he knows what it’s like to have things taken, and he always wants you to have a choice.
Every time she visits the manor, you swear you’ll stay out of her way. And yet, by the end of the night, you always find her leaning in your doorway like she owns the place, her arms crossed, eyes softer than they should be.
She talks to Bruce in efficient tones, all strategy and mission updates. But when she turns to you, her voice lowers, like she’s in no rush to be anywhere else.
You catch yourself fixing your hair, adjusting your shirt and putting on lip gloss, pretending not to care, but she notices. Diana always notices.
When you were younger, you thought she was untouchable, some perfect storybook figure who belonged on a pedestal. Now, you’re old enough to see the way she looks at you, and it makes your stomach twist in ways you can’t explain to anyone.
Her compliments are subtle, but deliberate. “You’ve grown,” she says, her gaze lingering just long enough to make you wonder what exactly she means.
Bruce has no idea. Or maybe he does, and he just refuses to see it. Either way, the danger of being caught only makes it worse.
When she leans down to kiss you on the cheek in greeting, her lips brush too close to the corner of your mouth. Every time, you wonder if she does it on purpose.
You tell yourself she’s just being kind, affectionate, Amazonian, whatever excuse you can find, but deep down, you know Diana doesn’t do anything by accident.
It should feel wrong. She’s your father’s best friend. She’s older, wiser, someone you once idolized. And yet, the more she shows up at the manor, the harder it is to ignore the tension buzzing under your skin.
something something the lady of gotham comes to life one night and bruce wayne/batman is so overcome with love for her that he worships her until dawn breaks
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."
having more thoughts about italian-american! jason as your boyfriend.
italian-american! bf jason is a hometown hero, the alley’s son, bowery’s baby boy, little italy’s prince regent. everybody knows exactly who red hood is — because who else but their jason would grumble fuckin’ stunad or madonna santa under his breath while masked up mid patrol — but nobody says anything. they just shrug when he comes to the deli or the pizza joint or the garage with his bike and its questionable damages.
italian-american! bf jason pays for this dearly. he goes out with you one time, now the whole neighborhood is calling you his girl. you come in for a ham and cheese with some chips and a soda? oh hey, i know you! jay’s girl, right? that italian takeout place you like to frequent? oh! don’t even worry about the wait, i’ve got you— hey, mikey! hurry up on that thing for jay’s girl, will ya?
“so i’m your girl now, and everybody just knows this?”
“honest to god, i never told any of them all that.”
“right...” he never hides the little smug smile on his face when it happens though.
italian-american! bf jason who does not play about a good chicken parm. he’s a simple man. will not have any discussion related to his constant intake of chicken parm, that’s between him and god.
italian-american! bf jason whose conversations you can’t help but eavesdrop on out of sheer intrigue. he goes over easy, you think when he's in his side of gotham with people who know him and talk like him.
“how come you always do your face like that?” the guy behind the bar counter, who you’d cone to now know as another of jason’s many cousins, asked. “screwin’ it up all sour and messing up the pictures like it’s a funeral and not a wedding.”
you turned the photograph over in your hands, a rare occurrence of groomsman jason in all his glory, hair parted neat and eyes bright in a fitted suit. but his lips were curved in near distress, hands folded over his front like a shy maiden.
“didn’t you see that fuckin’ thing choking me?” jason finally huffed next you. “was too busy playing hide the salsiccia from the wedding party to say cheese.”
the whole bar erupted into a guffaw.
italian-american! bf jason whose jaw drops one evening when he realizes he might be a little bit of a bad influence where linguistics is concerned.
“you landed on my property, doll,” jason pointed at the board. “i let you get by the last two times, but you gotta pay up.”
“jay...”
“no, nuh uh, not happenin’,” he shook his head firmly. “this isn’t just monopoly, this is business. serious business.”
“but jason!” you pouted, blinking slow.
“do not look at me with those puppy dog eyes,” he huffed, turning his head away to side-eye you. “now pay up, sweetness.”
“well that’s too bad,” you stared him down. “i got stugots.”
his head whipped around. “i beg your fuckin’ pardon?”
“stugots,” you repeated, motioning with two hands to and from your lap. “that’s what i got. you know? like, i owe you stugots, which means you can suck my—”
“woah, now!” jason raised a hand to stop you. “who taught you that? where are you hearing this from?” his eyes widened in utter shock. “matter of fact, what kinda company are you even hanging around?”
“you.” you shrugged. “i heard it from you.”
“like hell you did,” he grumbled under his breath. “it’s those tv shows you keep watching with those... mafia guys.”
“jason,” you chuckled. “i heard you say it, verbatim. you say it all the time! like those hand things you swear you never do—”
“...what hand things?”
you pinched five of your fingers into an upwards point and made a slight shaking motion for emphasis. “cosa fai?” your voice came out deeper in an impersonation of him, eyebrows furrowed in feigned disbelief.
“‘sto cazzo...” he grumbled, mullimg the words over as if they were foreign to him. “i do not do that!”
“there you go saying the thing! stugots!” you laughed. “like tony soprano—”
“watch that mouth,” he leaned closer to you and you giggled. “i can’t believe this shit... we’re setting some serious rules in this house.” he looked at you and squinted. “no cursing.”
“i was only repeating what i heard—” you threw your hands up in mock surrender and he kissed the corner of your mouth.
“sei perfetta,” he whispered, kissing you again, this time for real and slower, sweeter than before. “but seriously, pay up you can’t just go landing on people’s properties and not paying your dues—”
“ma sei serio?” you pulled away to look up at him.
he roared with laughter. “do i look like i play about my money?”
italian-american! bf jason who still curses around you and still acts surprised when you repeat it back.
🗒️ i beg you forgive me if anything is incorrect , a friend who is a fan of the sopranos (i have never seen it) brought up stugots to me and i found it hilarious . also shout out to @distantlydreamingofwater for the spiderman-esque hc in the comments of the last one i loved it so much 💗 !!
teasing clark by withholding the sweet, sweet sensation of being able to sink fully into your pussy. using him like he's your sex toy — god fucking damn.
tags: pwp, morning sex, pure filthy smut, fucking 'just the tip', teasing, edging, orgasm denial, creampies (1k+ wc)
—
the bed frames have been creaking, rhythmic and softly in time with clark's shallow thrusts. amber bathes the room, with the morning sun casting warm across the room. clark's body, fever hot to the touch, had barely stirred awake when you're needily murmuring for a quickie in that half-asleep haze.
your pussy was still aching from last night's activities, leaving you sore and creamy with his residual cum. his body quickly absorbs the heat, slick with sweat — muscles tensed with the effort of controlling his pace. he couldn't bring himself to break that gorgeous haze you were in, moaning wanton and soft as you're rubbing languidly over your clit.
clark's greedily watching, groaning low and content to the erotic sight you're providing, a sight you probably didn't even realise was downright lethal to him.
gosh…yeah. touch yourself, sweet girl. lettin' me watch you.
a startled whimper rumbles in your throat at the want in his voice. flashes of your canines catch over your bottom lip, movements turning a little more frantic. that was just so, fucking, hot.
it seems to undo him. the sight of his girl, chasing after her own pleasure — his thrusts become more controlled and intentional, driven by the sheer visual of your hand working between your legs, squelches of your combined arousal and whines.
fuck. you're so — incredibly, beautiful.
clark lowers his head, hastily capturing one of your nipples into his wide mouth. tongue darting out and circling the sensitive bud, all while his hips maintain the deep, heavy thrusts that got you to squeal for him every time. his free hand comes down to cover yours, the pressure evident against your clit. it's then he pulls back, just barely, so he could watch your features.
give me one more, mm? ah—…mm. wanna feel you come on my cock again…
you're quickly shaking your head, squeezing the base of his cock abruptly, forcing him to jerk to a halt in surprise at your intrusion into the sex-heavy atmosphere.
confusion is painted on clark's face, heavily panting, cheeks dimpled in what could've been annoyance — body trembling in the wake of being blue-balled. a sheen of sweat coats his chest, the coarse hairs there mussed up and gleaming in the morning haze.
his deep blue eyes search your face, trying to understand why.
there's no resistance when your palm nudges against his belly — he yields to your movements, rolling onto his side beside you. his cock, sick and glistening, rests heavily against his stomach.
are you alright? did i hurt y—
clark lets out a surprised grunt, a shadow taking over his chest as you clamber over him. his eyes lock on where your fingers are teasingly dragging down his length. picking the heavy shaft, to rub it flush against your slicked pussy. he gets the memo instantly, jaw tightened, muscles flexed as he fights his urge to take control.
geez…goddamn tease. had me — ahh-hahh…all worried.
he rolls his shoulders, and with a quick adjustment, your body bouncing hard at his shift to rest against the pillows.
want to drag it out, mm? last night not enough f'you?
his words are sharp, breath hissing through his teeth as you tease him further, letting him feel the hot, wet velvet cunt of yours, up and along his length.
you lock your gaze with his, finally lowering your hips enough just to notch his thick, weeping tip. it disappears promptly, sucked in greedily.
ngh—y-you're killing me.
clark's hips buck upward instinctively. desperately attempting to sink deeper into you, only to be met with your stubborn insistence on maintaining control. only allowing him to fuck his tip into you. the sheets are fisted on the other side of your legs, white-knuckled grips threatening to tear the sheets to shreds.
please…let me in all the way.
you find your resolve wavering a tad at the desperate, shaky want in his throat, but you shake your head, palm forcing his body to remain still.
clark relents, head falling back into the pillows on a pitched whine. you can watch his chest heaving. sweat glistening everytime his ribcage hollows at his restraint, up to the bobbing of his adam's apple, translucent trickles of sweat coating the veins.
each and every one of the shallow thrusts you award him with is received far too excitedly, cock twitching in you desperately. the hand, leaves the now tattered sheets to rest atop your bare thighs, as though he's somehow found control in himself.
they flex around the fat, squeezing and massaging to coax whatever demon possessed you to torture him like this. instinctively, his hips involuntarily thrust upwards, the cold, neglected inches seeking warmth.
o-one…more minute an' i'm flipping you over. warning you now — need to fuck you, sweetheart.
the ragged plea is met with a sharp glare from you, followed by a prickly, abrupt warning squeeze at the base of his cock.
u-eugh! o-okay, okay.
you slowly inch down deeper for him, offering him the promise of more. his hands come up to rest on your hips — not forcing, but to encourage the barely-there thrusts.
clark thinks his eyes might roll back, other hand appreciatively twining over yours, flattened on his chest.
a-ah, oh gosh. that's…
you feel his hand tug at your wrist, up from his chest, up his collarbone — until he's pressed your digits onto his lips. at first, he merely pants into them, they quickly grow into needy kisses over your knuckles.
j-jus' like that. little more.
the notion of his sneaky tactics registers, but you're far too achy to reject. there's no warning when you bottom out. thighs quivering from your release just at the perfect jut of the tip of his cock, right into your g-spot.
you feel your eyes actually roll back this time as you cum on his cock. you're pulsing in steady, sudden jolts.
clark lets out a breathy, guttural grunt, heavy, and stuttered — with the sheer force of your orgasms causing a domino effect to his own. his body seizes up as he spills deep inside you, shuddering through each fucking wave.
you collapse onto him, through your own pants, and clark catches your hips to steady you. the both of you are trying to gather your bearings from the aftermath of your combined releases.
h-holy shit…
he lets out a soft, airy laugh at your breathy exclamation, his much bigger palm resting on the back of your head.
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