would you be willing to write kon and tim x reader plsplspls 🙏
WARNINGS : Omegaverse, Yandere Behaviour, Obsessive and Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Dynamics, Gaslighting, Sheltered Reader, Power Imbalance, Manipulation
Thinking about a yandere Conner Kent and Tim Drake, who in the Omegaverse turn Kon’s very existence into an advantage when it comes to you because Conner was born without the instincts everyone else grew up with—no pack, no traditions, no inherited understanding of boundaries. And somehow that makes every mistake he makes feel… harmless.
Conner never means to cross the line.
At least, that’s what Tim says.
When he gets a little too familiar—nose brushing your shoulder as he “checks something,” hands lingering on your hips a second too long, it’s never malicious. He looks so confused when you stiffen, eyes wide and apologetic, like a pup who knocked something off the counter by accident, and your frustration dissolves. He just doesn’t know better, Tim reminds you gently. Born in a lab, raised without real instincts or rules. Of course he gets confused.
And with your strict parents, the way they kept you practically isolated and clueless, you never learned enough to challenge him. They only ever told you the bare minimum, leaving you unsure what’s normal and what’s not. So of course you find yourself softening, of course you forgive him. How could you not? When Conner’s hand brushes too low on your spine, when he crowds your space like he has every right to it, he flinches the second you stiffen. His voice cracks with apology. He looks devastated. It feels almost like scolding an affectionate dog for jumping on you—one whimper and all is forgiven.
And then there’s Tim.
Smarter than anyone ever gives him credit for—sharp in ways that cut clean, patient in ways that unsettle. Calculated down to the breath, already Kon’s partner, already the steady hand behind the powerhouse, and more than willing to use that proximity to his advantage. Whenever Conner crosses a line, too close, too bold, too much, Tim is suddenly there. Right at your side with that soft, reasonable voice that makes your doubt feel childish, makes your instincts fold in on themselves. “He didn’t know better,” Tim murmurs, fingertips brushing your shoulder in a gesture so gentle it almost feels rehearsed. Like he’s soothing you. Like he’s the one who understands you best. “It’s not weird. You’re just a little sheltered. Friends do this.”
And somehow, with Tim’s calm logic threading through your ribs, you start to wonder if maybe he’s right.
It’s normal for friends.
Friends who stand so close their breath ghosts your neck.
Friends who track your cycle, or heat, or rut, or stress levels, better than you can.
Tim encourages every slip Conner makes. He guides him, reassures him, reassures you. And it all feels so natural, so mundane, that you don’t even notice how they take up more space in your life each day. A jacket draped over your shoulders that smells like Kon, A hand on your lower back that Tim insists is “supportive.” Little touches, little excuses, little permissions you never meant to give.
Until suddenly you’re accustomed to them—craving the closeness you used to flinch from. You don’t notice the way Tim watches you soften under Kon’s touches with a hunger in his eyes. You don’t notice the way Conner’s scent starts to cling to you, deeper, heavier, like a claim. You don’t notice the way they move in sync around you, guiding you without ever seeming to.
By the time you realize they’ve been courting you, from the very start, slowly shaping your world around them, you’re already wrapped in both their scents.
Already theirs.
And they’ve made sure it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
