Sex with Jason has to be the most beautiful thing ever.
He’s so careful yet so harsh at the same time. Thrusting hard into you as he presses soft kisses to wherever his mouth can reach. AGHHH KILL ME.
His tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. Whimpering as he gets close to coming. Bros pull out game better be strong or you should probably be on birth control or using a condom because we just KNOW this man does not have enough self control to pull out while he’s coming. Plus why would you ever do that to him? He’s been so nice this whole time you’re fucking, he didn’t even give his full potential.
Maybe just let the poor baby moan and whimper as he comes deep in your cunt. Press a kiss to his neck as he cleans you up, because aftercare is always a must.
Come back Jason Todd, your twenty-eight children miss you 😢
This was thought of because I just watched *The Devil Wears Prada 2* and because of Madonna’s song Vogue, lolz.
Anyway, I’m just thinking about, like, what if we have really fearlessly independent reader who helps design or even create different outfits, or even runs their own line of fashion.
Readers colors are also the most amazing thing ever. Different pinks and purples. Teal, turquoise, blues, greens, but makes them look fabulous on almost everyone.
Diversity for the body types too. Not just your normal, stick thin model with fair skin, but they’re all diverse enough that they don’t look so similar.
And reader would **never ever** be caught dead in a pair of sweats and a hoodie outside of the comfort of their luxury house.
And how reader came to meet one of the batboys is an even better story.
I’ve always loved the idea of reader buying one of the batboys (specifically Bruce and Dick) something with their hard earned money. Something that took them so damn long to save up for and they’re just so shocked that reader would spend so much on them while they have a pile of cash sitting in the bank.
I can just imagine a JL!reader who is very flirty towards Batman, aka the hunky Dark Knight. Think, Hal Jordan but possibly a little more tame, if that makes any sense?
See, they’re in the middle of a debrief, Batman is being all stoic and sitting in a dark corner, face unchanging, and JL!reader is just smirking at him from across the table. All smug, maybe throwing a wink in there every so often.
Maybe Bruce makes the bad decision of sitting next to JL!reader, and they just every so often touch his thigh or his shoulder. By accident, hitting their knee against his, and Bruce just takes it.
Over the comms while all the JL is on a mission, they’re just flirting with him. Telling Bruce that his form looks strong, he’s got some girth to him, etc… But Bruce doesn’t even seem to have a reaction to it.
How just and see how the Justice League finds out that their mini Hal Jordan and Dark Knight are married and have eight kids. What a scare.
I can just imagine Dick Grayson being so giggly during sex.
Imagine, he is balls deep in you. You’re gasping, moaning, trying to breathe because of how deep he is. Your legs bent in positions they’re not supposed to be in. And then Dick starts giggling to himself, not so silently.
You know he’s not laughing at you, obviously. He’s too man enough to do that. No no. That child for a man- who is balls deep in you, might I add again! Has thought himself a little joke.
Now, eventually he’ll get a grip and start moving again, after he let you breathe and catch your breath.
And of course, since he’s so nice and as an apology for sitting inside you for so long and now moving, hell cum so, so deep inside you. Whispering softly to you, groaning as he feels you tighten around him.
what does steve harrington think when he sees you have an anklet with an “s” charm on it
hehehehehe what a delicious idea <3 MDNI this entire blog is 18+
Steve isn't the most observant person.
The anklet finds home around your ankle on a Tuesday.
Wednesday date night passes by with no remark. He kisses you dotingly, eyes all heart-shaped when he drops you to your door, but otherwise unaware.
Thursday and Friday pass much the same.
In fact, it takes until you're literally folded in half — legs hiked up to sit on Steve's shoulders as he drills into you, heavy cock splitting you apart, soft squelches filling the room — for him to finally notice.
"God, so good, you're so good, honey," He's ramblings his usual string of praise that sets you alight, already in that dozey fucked-out state he gets when he's buried in you.
"So, so good, I—"
He stops talking and moving at the same exact moment.
Your head, which had been thrown back against the sheets, chest arched up, pleasure drooling through your core, pops up sluggishly.
You sound as breathless as you feel when you say, "'teve? What's...?"
God, you can still feel his cock in you, warm, thick, so fucking hard. You want him to move.
You feel one of his hands that had been pressed against the back of your thighs, keeping you bent in half, shift upwards. It skims your calf- and lands on your ankle.
Oh. So he's found it.
"Is this...?" He asks, suddenly sounding terribly winded.
He curls his fingers under the loose chain, shifting it so it spins.
The little charm, an S, reveals itself to him with a flash of metal.
"Uh huh," you say, resisting the urge to wiggle your hips.
You've been too eager for his reaction to miss it now — even if your neck aches to keep your head up.
Bottom lip between your teeth, you give him your best simpering look. "Got it- got it for you, Steve."
And fuck, if you're glad you're watching for the reaction that gets.
Steve's eyelashes flutter, his eyes falling shut and you feel the twitch his cock gives inside you. The muscles in his tummy tense, his grip on your ankle tightening.
"You—oh, shit, ah-" is all he manages before a whimpery sound leaks out his mouth, like he can't contain it, teeth gritted, face all screwed up.
His hips finally start moving, but it's these jerky, wild motions. It's suddenly too slick and you realise at the warmth blooming in you that he's just cum.
Heat douses you, lust licking its tongue between your thighs. You throb and gasp, struggling to keep your eyes on Steve.
"Sorry, sorry, m'sorry," He's lost in it now, undone and untethered, fucking through his orgasm with whines and whimpers you've never seen before. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He makes pitiful noises as the pleasure drags out.
It takes a long, long moment to calm down. You're still entirely too keyed up when Steve slows his thrusts, eyes still clamped shut, brows screwed together. He's breathing hard, like he's run a marathon.
He'll go again just to please you—you know he will. Even to the points of overstimulation.
And combined with the flushed size of his pupils, the ring of hazel around them barely visible when he opens his eyes?
Well, you decide it was well worth the wait.
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