starter call starter call starter call starter calllllllll


#dc comics#batman#dc#bruce wayne#tim drake#dick grayson#dc universe#batfamily#batfam#dc fanart



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starter call starter call starter call starter calllllllll
open to: anyone
character: take your pick, i'll add gifs once y'all do <3
plot/connections: intense, but that's the brand. y/m needs heirs and political alliances. arranged marriage vibes, gross age gaps pls. non/dubcon, b.reeding, l.actation, pregnancy k.inks (the whole 9 yards, get it? cause pregnancy- nvm). the controlling, toxic vibes just get more and more intense until free use shenanigans occur at y/m's very fancy event. can involve multiple muses (: your call if you'd like to make this a cute lil human pet monster!fucking thing or keep this strictly human <3
she is practically delivered on a silver platter. painfully naive. absurdly young and daisy fresh. still well aware that their union is one built on promises of political alliances, power, and heirs to continue a legacy, she just never pictured that the extent of their obsession with her body could reach these heights. she didn’t expect to enjoy the possessiveness. nor the casual, normalized objectification. the fertility treatments are precautionary measures. same with the militant tracking of her cycle and other vitals, the inability to go anywhere alone. at least, that's what she’s told. it’s what she’s happy to believe. it doesn’t take long at all for them to conceive their first baby. she’s mistaken to assume she’s getting any reprise from her body or theirs. she’s already bred, and she still craves them like she wasn’t already growing round with their baby. they fucked even more after the family doctor made a house call to confirm what the tests had all but screamed. as if they were still trying for more. that should’ve been her first clue that this was more than duty. the others should have came when they did, growling filthy promises that she’d never not be full again. either with their babies or a mix of their cum. what seals her suspicion that she’s little more than an interactive fleshlight, a womb for them to breed as much as possible, comes shortly after the baby does. before she’s even fully recovered from birth. her belly’s still soft and round from the time spent carrying her son. her breasts still leak pearlescent liquid when they’re kneaded while claiming her body for themselves once again. though she’s sore, and leaking, and complaining, there’s no denying that her walls quiver around them while they achingly stretch her out with painstakingly slow strokes.
there’s no denying that she comes crying tears of overstimulation and delicious shame… that her own climax helps the next pregnancy take so quickly. it doesn’t take long for her to find out why irish twins is the colloquial nickname assigned to this pregnancy. ironic, since she IS pregnant with twins this time around. she’s still so young, yet she can’t remember a time when she wasn’t exhausted. she leaks through multiple layers of cloth, easily. her back constantly pains her from the weight of her breasts and her belly. full of life and trained to accept more than most people carry in their lives. she wants to hide. they want everyone reminded of their claim to her body. she knows this going into the gala event. why else would they choose to dress her in the finest, sheerest of gowns? worn with nothing underneath, at that. the shimmering material fit snugly around the curves of her breasts and belly. they have her sitting on their lap as they sip expensive liquor and entertain powerful guests with cigars and shop talk. the ring on their finger and milkstains on her gown the only accessories used to adorn her figure. ripe body on full display while singing praises of her fruitfulness to some business partner or client or some whatever potential ally sat before them. the stains darken as their hand cups a heavy breast mid-conversation and gives it a casual squeeze, bouncing her with their knee between her soaked thighs. typically timid, she can’t help but interrupt them mid-conversation. "mmhm, ohhh please! i- i can't—" can't do this here, can't help the moans that spill her out. can’t stop her hips from bucking against them despite the shame and discomfort. she’s not even sure what kind of relief she craves anymore: stimulation despite the shame. or comfort, gone shy in front of so many eyes. maybe both.
open to: anyone
plot/connections: fawn's a streamer who amassed a large online presence shortly after her first semester of college. she's a virgin who discovers how lucrative it is to start posting on camsites like 0nlyfans while doing raunchier things like dressing in provocative cosplays and stripping when she loses or doing playthroughs while using toys. just girly things <3 she's mid-livestream when y/m walks in on her. connections could be a family member like a sibling or stepfather (her mother can remarry for the plot idc) or maybe a stalker as unhinged as she is? idk bro go crazy go stupid
character: fawn is the baby of a family heavily involved in a cult. her mother took fawn and her younger siblings and ran off to a sleepy suburban town after she felt her children were in danger, severely traumatizing the older kids who can remember where they came from and the people they were forced to leave behind. a family tragedy unearths her family's fucked background, leaving fawn reeling from the loss of her sibling, as well as lashing out in impulsive and reckless ways to avoid dealing with the fallout of her grief and her family's deception.
the gusset of the vibrating panties snug against her slick slit emits a low hum that can't be picked up on the mic's audio, not yet anyway. fawn exhales a white-blue cloud of smoke after she inhales a hit from the joint lit between her fingers, giving the camera a dazzling smile as she watches the view count increase. notification after notification pours in as people tip in droves. "is this the best you guys can do? i can still speak clearly. never mind PLAYING the match. don't forget, whoever tips $100 or more gets to change the intensity." she calls in a sing-song voice, too wrapped up in the enthralling thrill of putting on such a lewd show for paying strangers on the internet to notice her cracked bedroom door growing as another person peeks in. fawn's too caught up in watching a particular notification popup, indicating someone tipped her a generous $250. "thank you! looks like someone wants to see things get interesting." as promised, she uses the app on her phone to turn the vibrator up once, then twice for good measure. the obscenely short skirt allows the camera to pick up her covered mound with ease, her legs propped open against the armrests of the plush computer chair. with the intensity increasing, her underwear becomes more and more translucent as her arousal soaks through the fabric. "mmhh, god. okay, l-lets get this match started." her bravado falters, the pulsating sensation against her clit distracting her from the sillier tasks at hand. she's pausing to read the chat as she waits for the loading screen to change when she reads the comments pouring in about the person watching behind her petite frame. fawn spins around in her chair almost like a comedic villain in the saturday cartoons, her heart racing with a gross mixture of fear and anxiety flooding into the pit of her stomach. "what are you doing, you fucking creep?"
open to: anyone
character: eliss, cherry, or nicole, alexis up for grabs
plot/connections: CEO’s free use toy. based of the iconic art going around with the white haired CEO man and his tiny free use f.ucktoy. she starts working at their company’s in-house coffee bar and quickly finds herself a very lucrative (if enjoyably humiliating) side gig. definitely caught feelings early on and is often too flustered or fucked out to figure out if said feelings are mutuals.
how they can focus on anything but the sensation of their c.ock buried in eliss’s tight c.unt is next to miraculous. eliss herself struggles to keep quiet enough, still enough while split open on their girthy length to not distract them. there’s a knock at the door. it startles the younger woman so much so that she jerks and yelps when a quick, sharp smack on a perky breast reminds her to settle down. they take their time finishing up whatever paperwork sits in front of them on the foreboding desk before allowing the worker in question to waltz in like eliss isn’t stark naked, making a noticeable mess on their boss's trousers. the information is passed down, far too complex for her to even try and conceptualize in her humiliating state, and then they’re gone. whatever the news, it must’ve not been stellar. judging by the way they lift her off their c.ock to roughly bend her over the desk. “when you mentioned needing a personal assistant, i never realized this is what you meant… ahhm” bent over the desk, she looks the picture of corrupted innocence. flushed cunt lips spread by the oozing cockhead resting against the tight hole, her cross necklace and frilly socks the only items to adorn her skin.
open to: anyone wearing big ass black boots lol character: eliss, very reserved, proper young woman. constantly teetering on the verge of a crisis of faith or headed into spiritual delusion territory. can't worship her god enough to feel like she's atoned for the guilt she harbors so ends up overcompensating by deifying people too quickly, too often in the name of serving others. plot/connections: heavy with the blasphemy, p.et play + boot worship k.inks B) church kids really are the fucking worst; ellie moves away to go to a college to become an actor and before she's even earned her degree she's sacrificing every value and moral instilled in her bc she's busy worshiping y/m like a fucking church dog, constantly on the brink of giving up her v.irginity because they just make her feel so sinful and nice. could be someone involved with religious ties from back home, a professor, or anyone she idolizes in the film industry. age gaps encouraged <3
this crass game they play with one another has certainly escalated rather quickly, although it starts off innocuously enough. she’s so giddy around them, bouncing with energetic affection and so very clearly love sick. like an overexcited puppy. how can she NOT look at them with such reverence? with complete and utter adoration in the round, shining brown eyes framed by those thick, dark lashes. eliss doesn’t even mind much when they start getting lenient with her boundaries. the head rubs turn into back rubs, which turn into wondering hands. especially during those heavy make out sessions that leave her grinding on their lap whimpering, the fabric of her p.anties snug against her folds gets slicker and slicker. she doesn’t even mind the casual degradation when they affectionately refer to her as their dumb pup and the pet name sticks. though her cheeks flush with humiliation, there’s no denying the heat that rushes to her core. god, she should certainly care more about the “treats” they feed her, the way they’ve practically trained her to perk up at the sound of their belt unbuckling. not that she’s told them ( like the clarification is necessary ) ; but her devout nature has her damn near ready to recommit herself to her god. to give herself up to them in her entirety for all of eternity. she’s certainly all too eager to debase herself as is; pets aren’t allowed on the couch, not without explicit permission. the surprise passes rather quickly, shifting into acceptance in record time. had anyone else order her to hump their boot she would’ve been horrified, indignant. now she’s clutching the material of their trousers making the most precious of noises on the floor before them. she’s already shed the pj bottoms she had on, leaving her in a pair of white panties and their shirt. flushed cheek snug against the other person’s thigh as her hips roll back and forth, the rhythmic pattern of the top of their boot rubbing against her engorged, clothed c.lit drawing forth euphoric noises and a glassy eyed LOOK from the doe eyed young lady.
open to: big bros, living up to my url
character: fawn
plot/connections: based on this... sibling squabble turned playfight turned noncon/dubcon to get your y/m to end the argument on his terms
he just doesn't get it. "it wasn't like that! i was undercover-" she said, wishing they shut up so she could return to her switch; the game console balanced delicately on bruised knees. though she can see why he demands further clarification. she's a glorified camgirl on twitch; not a detective or pi. unfortunately for her older brother, the bright lights and bouncing colors of the characters on screen were more enticing than the frustrating conversation at hand. "kaycee's boyfriend's a dick, but the girl lacks standards so she sticks around and he creeps whenever we hang. i invited him for drinks all alone and not only did he say yes; he was stupid enough to hit on me. didn't know he was being recorded though. kay can stay delusional after this, but at least it'll be by choice. you really think i'd fawn over some meathead like that? i'd be embarrassed about you barging into the bar like that if it wasn't so cute. y'know, to see you in SUCH a pissy-" the word mood dies on her tongue, replaced by the element of surprise and an audible oof as he tosses her over his shoulder with abrupt ease. her tattooed hands scramble to bunch up his shirt, raking her nails over his lower back as she squeals in protest. "i didn't save my game!! i was in the middle of my day and i didn't save my game! god you can be so fucking RUDE," by the end of her sentence she's bouncing onto the bed, wriggling around to turn onto her stomach in an attempt to scamper off the bed in search of her beloved gaming console. except his massive hands close around her waist with alarming speed to yank her back, all that squirming done in vain; another aggressive tug and those snug jeans start to give under pressure. he's got a grasp on her favorite piece of denim while hooking his fingers around the band of her favorite underwear, a sheer thong embroidered with little bats wherever there WAS a bit of fabric. he doesn't stop until her ass is completely bare, that lower back tattoo of a set of roses and thorns exposed like that little peek of pussy from between her legs. suddenly, tiny fawn freezes under him save for the rattling of her breath; ribs expanding into the mattress with every erratic inhale. "okay, okay i misspoke with that one, called you rude a little too early in our conversation!"
open to: anyone
plot/connections: y/m and cherry are in the same largely empty subway cart after a grueling rehearsal and public play stuff ensues. dub/noncon stuff is welcome, with a preestablished connection (maybe some d/s stuff, or a toxic version of that where she's basically running for the role of trophy wife and has a lot to prove), or strangers meeting in a very intimate way for the first time.
character: cherry, your residential broken home baby and ballet dancer.
cherry's sweet enough to lend a coworker her sweats so they can grab a coffee in clean clothes after they stain their warm-up shorts... and bitter enough to regret her random act of kindness when she forgets to ask for them back. she wouldn't give a shit, but now she has to ride the subway home in a black leo, dance tights, and the oversized black hoodie that leaves a peek of perky asscheeks clothed in lycra. music audibly blares from the earbuds hiding behind the curtain of bleach-blonde hair. the unearthly blue glow of her iphone screen illuminates cherubic features. cherry's content scrolling mindlessly, her brain officially shut down to the point of missing the looming figure that gently hovers uncomfortably close behind her. cherry only startles when their hands swiftly grab her hips and pull her ass snug against them. the only riders in the car other than her and the person pressing their chest against her back are some drunk who looks like he works in finance and an old lady snoozing away with her groceries in her lap. "—the outfit's not your open invitation, buddy. m'not fucking interested." queue the sharp little elbow jab she stabs against their ribcage to punctuate the end of her snarky sentence.
@sugcrbites
continued from here ♡
she shrugs bare shoulders with a laugh, her long inky strands of hair rippling around her. "most of it, yeah." not too long ago fawn would deny the playful scolding; knowing full well there was truth in every word. would've rushed and all but tripped over herself to play it cool. but that silly little fawn is dead and buried. no longer burdened by the paralyzing grip of shame or the pressures of conforming for the sake of maintaining normalcy; there's no need for fawn to pretend there's not this all-consuming, unsated voracity living within her. not in front of jonah, at least. not when he's greenlighted her obsessive nature. encouraged and reciprocated that sick fascination of hers. fawn's ecstatic to let him lead them down a vile, corrupting path. she sticks her tongue out at her brother in reply to the rest of his playful chastising, a more innocuous nod to what their bond had been before its wicked mutation. "trust me, it's not for lack of trying. m'glad i stole the hoodie too, i didn't wanna walk out of there empty-handed, feeling defeated by your stupid laptop."
what else is there to do in their rundown hometown, other than getting drunk or high or sticking their nose in other people's business. fawn can't really blame people for how they lash out when that restless, itchy boredom creeps in. she knows the feeling all too well, and understands this stagnant town breeds risky impulsiveness in folks. “honestly, i don’t know. and i don’t care. doesn't matter what i told 'em when things can go back to normal between us,” fawn snorts with barely concealed laughter. “well, a new typa normal.” not only did she get her beloved brother back after fumbling the closeness they harbored for one another for so long; now, fawn gains something far darker and more delicious than she could’ve ever foreseen. jonah's preaching to a one-woman choir with those decadent little promises, eyes light up bright as he paints the depravity he wishes to inflict on her in her mind’s eye with vivid viciousness. "yeah, to start with." the ambitious virgin admits with a giggle. "i read online you could press on your tongue with your toothbrush to train away your gag flex… but i don't know if it's helping much 'cause my eyes still water when i brush. still, i think i'd look SO cute throating your cock. i think i could get pretty good at it before our mall trip, or practice lots at least."
amongst the giggles, fawn's enjoying the make-believe he still humors her within the moments before her toys bore witness to further unspeakable depravity. she's solemnly nodding in reply to his immoral request as her brother nears, the comforter shifting under his weight as she settles underneath him. jonah's body towers over her own, though she's always been more on the shorter, slender side so that's not necessarily surprising. certainly exhilarating. despite their size differences, he fits between her legs like he's built to be there. of course he is, fawn's convinced that's where he belongs. the precious little heart between her legs might've once been a personal decision. but now that she knows jonah finds it particularly endearing it's something she's fully committed to doing for him. "yes, sir." in actuality, she means for her tone to be more playful than she conveys. instead, fawn sounds genuinely devoted to her brother as her authority figure. but the truth is, he's been one because fawn's put him on a pedestal for as long as she's known him. even through her tumultuous rebellious phase. she trembles with anxious anticipation as he further parts the valley of her legs. fawn's never felt this level of exposure, which is saying something for someone making so much money getting naked for random men online. "okay… i trust you." when she says this, a soft smile tugs the corners of her lips up as the warmth of her doe eyes zeros in on his gaze; eyes lit up with softer docility she reserves just for jonah. brown eyes flicker down between them to gawk in awe. it's a sight to see; the swollen, leaking cockhead prodding at that glistening virginal entrance, their arousal mixing together into an icky mixture. the sight of her brother on the brink of taking her virginity is nothing compared to the electrifying heat of his length teasing her cunt open just enough for fawn to blink down between them in disbelief. "it's okay," she reassures him, her tone shaky under the weight of her own lust. "promise i'm ready." aching for it, really. the walls of her cunt tightening around nothing before he's even pressed himself forward. "i need to know how you feel inside me."