Yuki Aia @yukiaia10 - Tumblr Blog

clark being dominant + pretending he’s the submissive, mommy kink, pubes, messy spit and cum, size kink

. . .

“I… I don’t wanna cum yet, baby you just started—“

Clark doesn’t let her pleads steer off his rapid pace. He’s beneath her, thrusting upwards with grit while his balls slap against her every time he’s all the way back in. He needed this all day. She could cum multiple times if he wanted her to. It didn’t matter to him that she’d get loopy and exhausted on top of him after just a few minutes of gushing all over his cock.

“Shhh. You don’t have a choice,” he breathes, stills his hips as they raise all the way up off the bed, the pubes on their groins each meeting each other as he gets every inch snug right in.

ghouljams

pornstar!ghost haunts me…

fingers wrapped around his cock any time he's not on set, a constant refrain of your breathy,

"nobody fucks me like you"

that drives him mad.

maybe he's been too lenient with you, let you go off script so much that he can't tell what you mean and what you've been coached on. but he doesn't think it matters anymore,

nobody fucks you like he does.

presses you down into the mattress like he does, ruts their fat cock between your wet folds like he does. when he wraps his hand around your jaw, pulls your head up to drool for the camera, it's not because he's the best it's because he won't let anyone else try. you're meant to be his, you just met him at the wrong time for it.

doesn't matter, he supposes, not when you keen and moan, legs shaking and hips swaying at the first touch. you don't want anyone else, do you sweetheart? no. no, he shakes your head for you, shoves his fingers into your mouth to make you slur the words.

"i'm yours," he loves it "i'm yours," he loves you.

so maybe you've been too lenient with him, let him take more than he's owed.

but nobody fucks you like ghost does, and you're too cockdrunk to ask someone else to try.

twomelatonins

yan dragon monarch x knight reader

a/n: clearing out my drafts... writing some sequels for some of your favs in the mean time so stay tuned!

The Monarch of Dragons who finally finds his mate. The one who has the power to level entire nations, to wipe off countries off the map with just one word, has been granted a mate. The gods have not forsaken him after all. You, the captain of the Northern Kingdom’s most elite team of knights, sent by your King to negotiate (plead) for help in the upcoming war with the Southern Kingdom.

His heart nearly beats out of his chest when he first meets your gaze and hears your beautiful voice. His instincts scream at him to claim you right there and then, but he knew humans tend to be more…patient with their courting methods so he holds back.

He agrees to help your Kingdom much to your surprise, but with the condition that you’ll stay in his territory. A trade. Your life, for his help.

Your fate is sealed when you return back to the Kingdom and the King agrees to this ridiculous trade. You’re dragged away by your own comrades, betrayed by your own country, and sent back to the Nest of the Dragons, right back to him. You had no family to plead for mercy, to object against the King’s decree. Your friends were powerless too; staying silent for fear of losing their jobs, or worse, their heads. He almost feels bad for you, seeing the shock of betrayal on your face. His only wish is for you to be happy, but your happiness can only be attained when you’re next to him. He just needs to help you realise that.

As you’re sent back to his arms, you’re still in shock. This was your new home? Just like that?

His heart breaks when he sees your lifeless, broken self. He gently holds you and tells you that your life with him will be much better than what it was before. He’ll be your new family.

He gives you your own room, pampers you with luxurious clothes and exquisite feasts; everything you could possibly want, he’ll give it to you. Everything but your freedom. He shows you around his domain, tells you about all the different dragons species and how he can understand them. He tells you stories about how he came to be the Monarch of the dragons, stories about his adventures, and stories about being the leader of the most powerful beasts in all the lands.

The dragons also start to recognise you as someone important to their leader and soon, they treat you like one of their own. You love spending time with these intelligent and beautiful creatures, playing with them or flying in the skies on one of their backs, it finally started to feel like home. At least you know these creatures would never betray you like how they did. They would never throw you aside like how your “comrades” did.

The Monarch sees how your heart slowly starts to thaw, how the light in your eyes shines brighter and brighter as time crawls. Seeing his mate, his fated one, find happiness with his kin brought him no greater joy. Although sometimes he gets jealous when you touch other male dragons or when you spend too much time away from him, he restrains himself. He knows that if he were to just lock you up in his room and give in to his more primal urges, you’ll never be happy.

Instead, he takes things slow. The human way. A slight brush against your hand, a lingering gaze. Thoughtful gifts and sweet letters on your bedside table.

It seems to work, as he notices how you begin to be more conscious of him, blushing when he gets too close and getting all flustered.

When he finally confesses his feelings, it’s only when he's certain you like him back. When he’s sure you won’t try to avoid him or run away from him. Only then does he proclaim his love for you, in the peaceful forest, with a fresh bouquet of all your favourite flowers in his hand.

As per his predictions, you accept his confession and you two officially become a couple.

Now that you’re finally his, it gets harder to suppress his possessiveness around you. Knowing you're his didn’t make things easier for him, it just made him more protective. His hand practically glued to your waist at all times, never leaves your side, always having to know what you’re doing. Logical reasoning becomes a mere whisper in his head, drowned out by the roar of his beastly instincts.

He starts to isolate you, calling you aside just whddden you’re about to go off to the forest. Time and time again you find yourself back on his lap was he slowly lulls you to sleep with the sound of his quill scratching against the parchment and his free hand drawing patterns on your back when all you wanted was to visit the dragons out in the forest. Only when you voice your complaints he acquiesces, but when you go into the forest to find the usual dragons you play with, they’re nowhere to be found.

“Maybe they’re off hunting, my love. Now, let’s go back inside, it’s starting to get chilly out,” his voice carries a tone of finality, and you let yourself be guided back home.

Back to your gilded cage.

youraverageyanderewriter

A Worthy Mate

Yandere Alpha Dragon x Omega Dragon Reader

Yan!Male x Fem!Reader

Wheel of Names comin in clutch

Dragons have a humanoid appearance

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You are a dragon that mainly preferred to be alone since you were an omega. Such loneliness came with the issue of not knowing what happens on the outside. Leading you to be in the situation you were unceremoniously dumped into.

You peeked into your cave. An alpha dragon was looking at your stuff. You could tell he was an alpha dragon because of his size. ‘Why was he here?’ You thought. You took a good look at what he was doing. He was putting something in your stash. He knew. He knew what you were, and you knew what he was doing. He’s courting you, and from the looks of it, he has been here several times. You shudder at the weird occurrences that have been happening with you. The weird smell that would come from your clothes when you were in your humanoid form, the fact that no beasts approached you, how easy it was to gain food, and the trinkets that you ‘found’. He did it all and you were terrified. You weren’t ready to be someone’s mate. “You’re finally great to meet you my omega…” A deep gruff voice came from the alpha dragon. You stayed silent. He turned around and walked towards you. “I think it’s best we continue this conversation in our smaller forms.” He stated. You couldn’t disagree and only nodded in response.

The both of you transformed in your humanoid forms. He was still bigger than you. You noticed him eyeing your body as the both of you were naked. You tried not to look at his cock as he was hung. He put his claw under your chin and made you look up at him. “I was quite irritated with you living in my territory but you’ve proven yourself that you should be my mate.” He stated, “You were a lot more self-sufficient than the other omegas that had tried to woo me.” “But-” You tried to speak but he interrupted you. “You’ve finally noticed my courting attempts.” He smiled, “I believe it’s time for me to mark you.” Terror flashed on your face and started to move away from him. He began to move closer. “N-No, I can’t be your omega-” You pleaded. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you near him. “You don’t think I’m worthy of being your alpha…” He sneered, tightening the grip on your wrist. “No, no, I just don’t want an alpha…” You said meekly. He scoffed at your answer, “All omegas do, hell, even some betas I’ve met desire an alpha.” “Fine, let me prove that I am worthy of being your alpha,” “A simple show of strength, fight me. This has gone bad to worse for you. He thinks that you are one of those omegas who wouldn’t submit to an alpha unless they prove that they are stronger than them. You are no fighter, so you either submit or fight and submit. “Okay,” you answered. This was a stupid decision on your part. ‘But it doesn’t hurt to try…’ You thought.

It didn’t take too long for him to instantly pin you on the floor. “My my,” He smirked while putting his head by the crook of your neck, “you’re just a brat.” A small whimper came out of your mouth. His teeth grazed upon your neck, about to mark your skin. You just took it. You were finished either way and at his mercy. You felt his teeth dig into your skin. The marking was taking place. You waited as you felt your blood leaking on the side of your neck.

Then you felt it, the warmth, the heat. The pleasure filled through your body. A small moan escaped your lips. A chuckle could be heard from him. “I see it’s time,” He smirked and moved away from your neck. He looked at the mess you were becoming. “Getting all hot and bothered are you?” He asked with a smile on his face, “It looks like you need my help.” You know what he was asking. He wants you to say it. He wants you to beg for it. You opened your legs to him. “T-take me, I want it.” You begged. “You want what?” He asked. “Your cock, I want your cock in me.” You begged, “I want your cock deep in my pussy.” He chuckled again and put his claws near your cunt. His claws easily entered your pussy, as it was wet due to the warmth. “My my, your body does want this cock.” he smirked and picked you up bridal style, taking you to your human bed in your cave.

He laid you on the bed and got on as well. You looked at his cock, it was bigger than the last time you glanced at it. “Impatient aren’t you,” He chuckled. He held your legs in a mating press as he entered his cock into your wet cunt. “So, tight…” He grunted while thrusting himself inside you. Moans left your mouth that were getting louder. He wanted to hear that more. He wanted it all. He forced his cock deeper in your cunt. “Come on baby,” He demanded, “Let everyone know that you belong to me.” “Ahhh, yes~” You moaned, “I’m yours, I’m your omega~” “Take it, take it all,” he moaned as he came deep inside you, “Carry my children.” “Yes~yes~m-moreee,” You moaned as you came alongside him. A look of bliss was on your face. He smiled, he had claim his mate and nothing could stop him now.

kentluv3r

I absolutely luvvvvv your writing Bae, could I get a cockwarming fic with Clark plsssss

Thank youuuu

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (MINORS DNI) mhmmm, thinking about cockwarming CLARK KENT while he tries to edit a new daily planet article.

the softness of the light in the bedroom creates shadows on the wall as you sit on clark’s lap, legs bracketing on both his thighs. you were tired, sure, but you weren’t going to go to bed without your 6’4 farmboy in the bed with you— he’s been gone on missions for too many nights— so of course, you weren’t going to let him get away from you for journalism at home.

“clark… handsome…” you whisper, chin resting on his shoulder as your hands drag up and down his bare back. that stupid sound of the keyboard enters your ear, only melting at the feeling of his cock twitch at the sound of your voice.

clark hums, pausing his typing to look at you. “mhm? what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, trying to not let his voice break at just how hard he is inside of you, the warmness of your pussy making him only hornier… but his job matters, the bills ain’t gonna pay themselves!

you look at him, kissing him softly as you speak against his lips. “please… fuck me already…”

he looks at you, his blue eyes soft. he thinks for a second but shakes his head, leaning in again and kissing you with a quick peck on the lips right before going back to his work— a moan leaving his mouth when you shift on him, his cock stroking against your walls. “can’t baby… i’ve gotta get this done, ‘promise that after this, you’ll be all i focus on; swear to you, baby.”

you huff but you couldn’t argue— especially right when he presses a kiss on your neck. “you’re mean.” you mutter.

he chuckles at your neediness, typing with his right hand as his left hand takes a chance to squeeze one of your asscheeks, making you squeak and inadvertently rock on his lap, making a guttural groan leave his mouth right after the chuckle. “am not… just making sure i get my work done.” he argues. “besides, you’re sexy like this… whimpering for me on my lap.”

rolling your eyes, you twirl a piece of his black hair with your finger. “yeah yeah, whatever… i just think you don’t want to fuck me.” you challenge.

that makes him halt his movements, leaning back which forces you to be face to face with him. the expression on his face? unimpressed and frankly disappointed.

“baby.” he says, tilting his head. “you know that’s not true.”

“oh yeah?” you ask. “then prove it.”

he groans and finally relents; after having you on his lap for damn near thirty minutes, all his need building up in his heart and balls… it’s not a shocker that he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, bringing you to the bed…

maybe cockwarming a kryptonian is the best way to tease ‘em.

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!

thecorefrisk

Warning: omegaverse, pseudocest/incest, mentions of virginity, male omegas are intersex by technicality I believe, etc.

Omega Bruce Wayne who is obsessed with Omega Reader’s virginity and is even more obsessed with keeping Alphas and even Betas away from you whenever your heat eventually came only to be the one to slide between your legs later, his little pink cock already chubbed up against you.

thecorefrisk

Warning: aphrodisiacs, pseudocest/incest, terminology like ‘laced’ used, etc.

When you eat way too many chocolates in some discarded Valentine’s Day box oblivious to the fact that they’re laced with heavy aphrodisiacs and end up sobbing your way to your dad after a couple hours, skin all sweaty and sticky, thighs trembling, the ache between your hips borderline agonizing as your body burns with heat, crying for him as you helplessly hump his sheets and reaching for him pitifully as he gives a soft coo and lays you back on his bed so he can take care of you in all the ways you’ve never allowed and more.

thecorefrisk

Warning: the reader be a little crazy, medical inaccuracies, pregnancy, baby trapping but without the trapping part, like the reader wanted to get pregnant but they didn’t want the husband thing attached, AFAB reader (or maybe you’re a male who can get pregnant, who knows), girl I haven’t gone to the doctor in years, a bit of implied dub-con breeding since the reader really wants to get pregnant, (read the tags for a little something more), etc.

No, I actually do in fact LOVE that trope of “I just wanted a child, not a husband” where the mc literally is only in a relationship with the other person in order to get pregnant and then they dip. It is freaking insane and I love it. Because I’d probably do that honestly lol.

This trope would work with any of the batfam (especially in an omegaverse universe) but let’s go with Bruce for convenience’s sake.

Okay, you are one of the many, many models that Bruce has dated in order to keep up his Brucie image. You’re under contract so you can’t really tell anyone about the fact that the entire relationship is, in fact, fake and for show but really, you have no reason to disclose that kind of information when you have your own set of crazy going on.

(And with the fact that you only had to date him for a three weeks at minimum and 3 months at max with the only real restrictions being: no cheating, birth control/contraception is vital if sexual relations do occur, and that you are subject to immediate termination if found to be aggressive or in any way abusive to any of his children, you had no real reason to break said contract. Especially since you could quite literally do whatever the hell you wanted.)

And maybe one thing leads to another and you guys do end up hooking up around the middle of the second month with your contract coming close to ending entirely—or, really, the better term would be just having sex since the two of you are technically in a relationship—with the assurance that you had taken birth control.

You had, of course, not.

So, when you leave the apartment he had bought you the next morning, you go to your OB/GYN as happy as a clam, practically bouncing on the way there.

Your doctor thinks you’re in some merry little marriage, living some happy life—one that just needs a baby to complete it. He thinks you’re some little housewife searching for a path to parenthood while your husband slaves away at his nine to five.

(You had gotten really carried away with your story.)

And, sure, you didn’t have to do all that but honestly—you don’t think your doctor would be trying this hard if he knew there wasn’t a man in the picture. If he knew you were just some person who wanted a baby so, so bad.

Anyway, you’ve been trying for a very long time to have this baby, one entirely your own because adoption or surrogacy just wouldn’t really feel the same.

You end up skipping out the same you skipped on into the clinic—happy as ever. And who could blame you? You’re practically set to have a baby on the way, your contract with Bruce is ending so you don’t have to deal with him for much longer, and of course, your career. You’ve been planning to make a switch for a while but being a model helped since it lead you to more men than you could really handle. But now—now you won’t need them for much longer.

Like clockwork, the third month hits. And like clockwork, you take that pregnancy test and have to stifle a grin for the rest of the week.

You have a baby.

It’s not hard to convince Bruce to spend more time apart, especially with the maximum of the contract coming so quick. It’s even easier to convince everyone around you that your newly found calorie and protein heavy diet is just some new health kick you’ve got going on.

Bruce’s kids won’t miss you, you were just one of the many models in that man’s life. Bruce himself won’t miss you since you were just a big fish in a school of big fish.

So what do you even have to worry about?

Nothing. You smile. Your bags are already packed and settled at the door, your fake mascara tears on for the paparazzi to take a big, fat picture of. Nothing much at all. You almost worry that your grin will be hard to hide under the white glare of the Gotham lights.

—

It’s Alfred who finds the tossed away pregnancy test a few weeks afterward.

You hadn’t really meant to leave it behind, of course. It just happened in all the excitement, you know? It’s not like you knew it would end up falling right out of the bathroom trash bin.

But it did. And it’s now sitting plain on the floor of this forgotten apartment plain as day.

All he really meant to do was clean up all traces of Bruce and you from the apartment since, well, now neither of you really had any use for it. You’d tossed it aside the moment the contract ended anyway. (Tossed them all aside, really.)

Unfortunately, he’s now found something you had obviously meant to hide.

Silently, he reaches for his device where it’s settled in the front pocket of his uniform jacket. He swipes the phone open, taps on the camera icon, and kneels down a bit to take a picture. Then, he slips the phone right back into the front pocket of his uniform jacket.

He just barely restrains a sort of grimace. Well, he’ll have to change gloves after picking that thing up.

—

They find you a couple months later in a luxurious Russian hotel all the way on the other side of the world, having the time of your life after traveling the globe. You’re visibly pregnant now and glowing with it.

They’ll be wondering if you left for the safety of the baby. But you knew you left because you were selfish.

thecorefrisk

Warning: pseudocest/incest, dad kink, jealousy, Jason x reader, gn reader, nsfw, fingering, I say ‘flushed with heat’ like ‘full with heat’, not a skin color thing, rough treatment, he spanks you like once dude, CNC vibes, etc.

Just gave myself a fat idea in my last post: what if after the reader accidentally reveals that they have a dad kink, Jason is a little freaked out (not only by the reader but his own reaction to the whole concept) by it and decides to maybe take a step back and evaluate.

And unfortunately, it gives other people the space to swoop in and take his spot. Other men. Men who wouldn’t need a moment to breathe. Men who wouldn’t need a second.

(This could literally work for any of the batboys, honestly lol.)

But it all ends the same anyway—with you bent over his leg and his fingers stuffed deep inside you, fucking hard and quick into you, so sure of every move even as he feels something boiling over in his gut.

Your face is flaming hot as you fumble to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, that the guy was just some coworker, some friend, that the two of you can just move past it all but you can’t. Or, rather, like he knows exactly what you’re about to say, he gives a cruel thrust of his fingers to cut you off with a gasp.

“C’mon, baby-“ he grunts, using his free hand to shove your head down so you don’t try to do something stupid again, like talk. “-c’mon, cum for me. Cum for dad, you fucking-“

And shit he doesn’t even get the last word in before something coils tight in your stomach, your body flushed with oppressive heat.

You still try to talk, to convince him out of doing this because he obviously isn’t doing this because he wants to-

But you end up gasping again, going tense all over as he lets go of your head and lets his hand fly across your ass in one heavy smack. And you can’t help how your thighs are trembling by now, you can’t stop it, so you just-

“You’re fine.” His voice is harsh and low—demanding. “But you’re going to cum, baby. Whether you like it or not.”

-so you just listen to your dear old dad.

thecorefrisk

Tw: PSEUDOCEST/INCEST, NSFW (sexual), dub-con/non-con talk, talk of omegaverse, sex pollen mention, male AND gn reader, late gay awakening mention, very blunt, talking about dominant bottoms (gay), etc.

Penetration does not equal submission. The simple thing of ‘having a penis’ and then going ahead and sticking it in somebody does not equate to that person’s submission.

It is not a sword. I will not keel over just because you inserted it in me.

And so, I sincerely think you should consider:

—A Jason Todd who may be inside you but he’s crying and whimpering and whining the entire time and he just can’t help it. He wants more, he wants less, he wants to breathe but he doesn’t want to stop. He needs commands—genuine commands in order to do anything more than give uncoordinated thrusts of his hips.

—A Dick Grayson being forced to have sex with a man—his brother, as in, you—either by ‘bad guys’ or through sex pollen means. And who ends up riding him ‘till the poor thing breaks.

—An omega Tim Drake who sure may be in heat and who sure is in his nest with you but he isn’t trapped here with you. You’re trapped here with him. Because Tim is nothing if not a planner.

—A Damian Wayne who was so sure he knew what he was doing then ends up having to have you teach him everything after he cums inside you far too quickly.

—A Bruce Wayne whose son found out they were attracted to men a little too late in life but is too scared to try and bottom so Bruce then offers to properly teach him how to properly have sex with a man.

And I do mean this in the sense that the guy being fucked by another guy, like just straight up taking it in the butt, is necessarily the submissive one. People can be absolute doms and also take it in the butt.

thecorefrisk

Warning: implied future pseudocest/incest, short, emotional isolation, manipulation, etc.

Something something Bruce being left only with the one kid that doesn’t have the most batshit crazy relationship with him and having to grapple with the fact that the most understanding and loving person he’s ever met wasn’t ever really raised by him.

Something something Bruce realizing that the only person who ever instantly ‘got’ him was the one kid he never had the time to get to know.

Something something Bruce having to grapple with not only the guilt but also the absolute isolation that is to feel like only one person in the world gets you.

Something something Bruce crying in the reader’s arms because sure, he has friends but he never feels like they like him and he has other kids but it never feels like they actually love him and-

Something something the reader giving a soft click of their tongue and wrapping their arms tight around the older man’s head, tucking his cheek against their steady heart.

Something something Bruce who becomes more and more dependent on not only the reader but their validation and comfort.

Something something Bruce who just wants to crawl into their skin like something tiny and precious.

Something something Bruce who always feels so small in your arms and still leans in to every touch given.

Something something a reader who knows exactly what they’re fucking doing.

thecorefrisk

Warning: omegaverse, yandere behaviour, up to interpretation, etc.

Something something… ending up all curled up in Bruce’s bed when your first heat hits after he insisted on it, saying that he could protect you better this way. And he takes this opportunity to snuggle up to you and push his nose into your newly found scent—all sweet and still blooming.

He rubs his nose into the space behind your ear, purring loud against your back despite all your whining and squirming, still trying to get away despite having his arms locked tight around your torso.

He ends up pressing goodnight and good morning kisses to your sleepy face with gentle adoration, barely restraining a coo when you give a little whimper in protest, just so very exhausted.

Bruce still calls you a pup. Afterwards, I mean. Like somehow your presentation as an omega had given him the opportunity he needed to actually be a father to you.

thecorefrisk

Werewolf reader who is turned by a distressed werewolf just looking to survive and who is then left behind on a full moon to turn—alone.

Werewolf reader whose turning is horrific—no pack around, muscles straining against the transformation, clothes ripping under newfound claws, and only terrible loud sounds of agony filling a hollow shell of a forest. First human, then animal.

Werewolf reader who doesn’t have the strength to go hunt afterwards, who doesn’t even have the slightest bit of energy to attack anything.

Werewolf reader who whimpers into the ground, stumbling forward in some sort of mindless crawl.

Werewolf reader who ends up huddled around a set of oddly shaped rocks—pretty, shiny, smooth, but also oddly shaped and still terribly normal.

Werewolf reader whose animal brain instantly decides, “Yep, this is it.”

Werewolf reader who shows up back at the manor bloody, panting, tears drying on their face, reeking of soil and iron, and with a bundle of rocks tucked close to their chest.

Werewolf reader who passes out at the manor’s doorstep, still cradling those rocks, and who can’t be made to let go of them even in their unconscious state.

Werewolf reader who has to wake up and realize that as they look around the room to see the worried faces of their family that they have not only been irreversibly changed beyond human comprehension but also that in their animal state that they have found themselves pack bonded to fucking rocks.

And then we have the batfam who has to gather around the reader and realize as the reader’s gaze turns sharp and suspicious that to them they are no longer family, only a threat. And what they have accepted as pack is not a human being, it isn’t even animal.

No, they are freaking rocks.

thecorefrisk

You know the drabble where the reader is beta and has to take care of alpha Bruce + the bat boys during their rut, what would happen if the reader was an omega who ran out or 'forgot' to put on a scent patch?

Like, an omega reader that got stuck or accidentally stumbled into one of the other members of the batfam being in rut without their scent patches? Like they got trapped there by accident or fell asleep at the wrong place?

(This one is a bit long, sorry </3)

—

WARNING: pseudocest, omegaverse, my best attempt at a gender neutral reader, ANIMALISTIC INSTINCTS, they’re going to be acting like wolves/dogs, heavy non-con/dub-con, the reader has a vagina but is not given a gender, CASS AND DAMIAN ARE NOT IN THIS, you wear panties, FADE TO BLACK SMUT KIND OF BECAUSE I DONT KNOW IF YOU GUYS WANT THE WHOLE NINE YARDS, etc.

EXPLANATION FOR THE READER’S FEAR: they could get pregnant, they could be permanently bonded to one of their family members, general fear of assault, they could end up liking it, even though they aren’t related to the batfam they are still pack (family) and act as such, etc. Jason’s part actually has less fear compared to the others.

HOW DO RUTS WORK IN MY AU? So, they work kinda like heats where the person going through it is basically brainless. It’s why they are so dangerous. They can’t think, only act. So, to put it simply, the batboys + Bruce don’t know what they’re doing IN THE MOMENT because all they are doing is what any other person going through heat/rut would do: jump the bones of the pretty person laid down next to them. Again, laying down next to an alpha in rut is basically saying ‘Take me, I’m yours’. But this is not the reader’s fault either, they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

BRUCE WAYNE

I think it would be a ‘you wanted to have a sleepover with dear old Bruce ‘cause you miss him’ but you also have the world’s worst timing.

That mans cuts to the chase, baby. He wants you NOW.

Your father had always been the picture of control to you. Quiet, stoic—the kind of man who planned every action and whose brain was constantly working a mile a minute.

But today, those layers have been shed.

You try to squirm beneath him, try to push him off or do something, but then he rumbles at you, pressing your head deeper into the pillows like you were just some misbehaving omega.

(Well, technically, you were.)

(But you were also his kid.)

You’re on all fours, head down, ass up—prime mating position, how an omega should be mated but why would he-

Oh.

Something heavy presses against your crotch. Something that throbs.

Oh.

..Shit.

You gasp, trying to scramble away. “Dad- dad, no. I’m- I’m not-“

I’m not your mate. I’m not your omega, not in that way. I’m not-

But he growls at you, a sound that makes your hindbrain whimper even as a struck of horror goes through you when the sound of shuffling of clothes greets your ears.

Fuck.

You try to get away again, writhing as hands curl into your loose pajama bottoms that you wore because stupid you forgot that he was in goddamn rut and wanted to have a stupid sleepover with your dad like you were some pup-

A distressed whine leaves you when large hands yank you back by your hips. But your dad, your alpha, he just gives a low croon that has you involuntarily going slack against the sheets, a haze falls over your mind.

(‘Alpha,’ your mind whispers.

‘Dad,’ you shoot back.)

He lets loose a pleased sound and curls his fingers into the hem of your pants, tugging them down along with your underwear. Your face burns with mortification, a heavy thing building up in your throat as his calloused fingers drag your clothes down your knees and off of you and toss them to the side in a heap carelessly.

Humiliated tears prick your eyes as he spreads you open, unable to even flinch away under his heavy grip. (Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-)

All the air leaves your lungs when you feel him—thick and incredibly hard—press into you.

It’s when he finally begins to sink in that you say it, that you cry out—“Alpha!”

Your relationship is literally never the same after this. Like, ever.

It is quite literally neither of y’all’s fault because you wanted to do something sweet and fun with him but you didn’t know he was in rut and he didn’t know that it was you.

DICK GRAYSON

Quicker than Bruce somehow.

But less scary because Dick’s gentler… in a sense.

I think you would get into this situation by just coming to his house at the wrong time.

You had an argument with Bruce. You’re angry. You’re sad. You need comfort. Your big brother is who you turn to.

Unfortunately, comfort isn’t something he can really give right now.

Your hips buck up helplessly, writhing and squirming in your attempts to get away.

Dick, however, did not loosen his grip, face shoved between your thighs, nose deep in your cunt, your slick, your cum—shameful and dragged out of you twice already—glistens on the tip of his nose despite the fact that he didn’t even have to patience to take your panties off, just mouthing at you through the fabric.

“Dick,” you keen and gasp, tears springing up in your eyes when he yanks them to the side and shoves his tongue deep inside you, the hot muscle thrusting in and out, in and out, in and out-

You’re going insane.

A whimper leaves you, a soft and distressed sound that has him crooning back at you, giving a comforting rumble even as he presses his tainted mouth to your clit.

He’s more animal than human—more rut than man—but it’s still his mouth licking and sucking at your cunt, devouring it feverishly like he’d been craving it for years.

(Maybe he has. Maybe this is just him. Maybe this-)

Your mind is a mortified, heady mush, especially when he begins to slide up, pulling your legs up only to push them back.

“Dick,” you protest but he just gives a comforting rumble like you’re just nervous. “Dick, no-“

All the air leaves your lungs when he yanks his shorts down along with his boxers one handed, the other pinning your thighs down.

His cock—fuck, your big brother’s cock, heavy and flushed red—slaps against his stomach, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

God, he really wants to-

The stillness, your shocked state—it all shatters when Dick presses the tip down against your clit.

“Fuck-“ you borderline sob out. “Don’t- don’t do that-“

But he doesn’t listen, he can’t, and he ruts against your cunt like a madman—like an animal—huffing and puffing and panting like a dog, moving instinctively against you like there was no other place he was meant to be. You claw at his back, not really knowing if you’re trying to get him off or if you’re just clinging.

Can’t look you in the eye without wanting to cry for like weeks afterwards. You’re in a similar state.

Still, when you’re heat blessedly comes, he’s the one to take care of you. Because even after everything, he’s your big brother and he loves you.

JASON TODD

Oh, you love each other you really, really do.

And you just think he’s a little deeper into his instincts than usual with him trying to scent you and drag you deeper into his den, pulling you back in each time you try to squirm away.

And sure, he knew you were an omega. But it wasn’t until your last scent patch fell right off of your neck that it truly hit the animal side of him—you’re an omega.

It’s why he’s a bit slower with it. Slow enough that you don’t really realize he’s settled between your legs until it’s too late.

You drag your claws down his back, drawing long lines of red down it in an effort to get him off. It had the opposite effect, causing him to groan where he was nose deep in your scent glands, breathing you in with gluttonous fervour, each groan tumbling out of him, all low, all wracking through you like electricity.

He’s humping you, hips grinding and bucking against yours in slow restrained movements like he’s trying to shove himself inside through the fabric.

It’s filthy. It’s horrible. (You can feel your slick seeping through the fabric of your underwear.)

Jason’s nosing at your scent glands like he has the right to do so, soft little animalistic sounds—purring, growling, rumbling against you like some sort of claim—pour and tremble through out his body, chest shaking with the vibrations.

“Jason,” you grunt out, warning. “Get off me.”

The alpha in question just huffs, stubbornly wrapping his arms around you to tug you in like there was anyway for him to get closer without him melting into your skin.

He’s been doing this for about an hour, just humping and grinding against your cunt, draped over you like the world’s most stubborn weighted blanket.

You’re less worried about him knotting you and more so about him suffocating you with his weight.

(He could have done it. He could have done it an hour ago and you wouldn’t have been able to do anything more than lay there and take it.)

(But he hasn’t.)

“Jason-“ you sigh, exasperated. “Just get off, I’ll leave and-“

A thunderous growl cut you off, arms tightening around you to the point you’re worried they’ll cut off circulation. Oops, wrong thing to say.

He comes out of this experience more traumatized than you.

It’s not like it wasn’t scary or anything like it is with the others. It’s that the only thing Jason is doing is cuddling you and grinding on you which is a lot tamer than what the other guys are doing.

Not to say he doesn’t want to but that Jason in rut is a very cuddly, ‘let’s make love’ Jason not a ‘I need to fuck your brains out’ Jason.

Slow, romantic, possessive sex where you’re treated so gently, so lovingly you can’t find yourself hating it is all I’ve gotta say.

TIM DRAKE

Clothes torn off. Not yanked, not shoved, torn.

He pounces on you, dude.

You yelp when you’re yanked back into his grip by your legs, chest hitting the mattress. He’s on you before you can catch all the air he knocked out of you.

You gasp, blood rushing to your face when a loud rip echoes throughout the room, air kissing your newly exposed flesh.

Did he just-

“Oh!” Your hands scramble to grab onto the sheets below you, searching for some sort of anchor in the chaos.

He shoves your face down into the pillows with one hand, pushing your legs to spread with one leg and keeping them spread with his unoccupied hand.

You felt so bare like this and really you were with your flesh uncovered, unsheathed, and left for his greedy eyes to devour. Mortification thrummed low in your veins, heat crawling down your neck.

What the hell?

All the blood rushes out of your face when calloused hands wrap around your hips and pull you back to meet a strong set of hips, a pelvis nestled against your own.

“Tim-“ you begin to warn, your arm reaching behind you.

Tim, on the other hand, was oblivious to your discomfort and instead slipped one of his hands into your own to intertwine them and pin your arm behind your back, the other going in between his legs.

You shared a whimper when in one quick snap of his hips he was pressed to the hilt inside you.

Tim does talk to you after this happens but all conversation is stiff and awkward.

He literally has flashbacks in the middle of doing anything—even if it’s not related to you.

(It has him scurrying to the bathroom to take care of his little problem.)

kumasakka

𝝑𝑒 ⏜ ︵ biceps at your service 𓈒

　　A quiet groan leaves his lips as he pressed his cheek deeper into the pillow, voice muffled through the cushions.

It tingles. But it feels so so good — the rhythmic tap of your fingers before you begin to drag your fingertips across his bare back, feeling the little scars and brushing over the bruises with soft reverence.

His back muscles are tensing, arms wrapped around the pillow, biceps flexing ever so slightly, jaw clenching as he tries to cover his own whimpers.

“Feels s’good.” a shudder runs down his spine.

“Hmm? What was that, pretty boy?” a teasing hum.

You are making yourself comfortable on the back of his hip, leaning right over him and letting your hands roam around — before kneading the well built muscles.

The feeling of them makes you incredibly giddy, all happy to be the only one who gets to see him so bare.

“All yours, continue.”

Instead of heading his plead, you do the opposite and halt mid movement — he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Please continue.” he corrects himself.

“Good.” you whisper and do as he pleases, beginning to scratch harshly.

“Shit—”

The unforgiving, red marks vividly appear as you run your fingernails across his back. The contour beneath his skin, the breadth of his shoulders, the full shape of his back. And the way his muscles stretch and tighten as his hands curl around the fabrics of the pillow.

You fucking love it, bite your lower lips while leaning forward and massage his shoulder. Your shadow falls over him as you loom right inches above him, one hand trailing down to his biceps to squeeze it lightly.

“Wish this could go on forever, you’re too good f’me.” he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

He could feel your palm dragging over the hard, defined parts of his spine. Then it wanders down, fingertips dipping into the curve of his lower back and it tingles comfortably. He relishes in the way your touch seems to linger on the hard, corded muscles, tracing little maps.

As soon as you pressed a little harder against it, dipping right between the curve — he subconsciously arches his back.

“Fuck—ah…” he whimpers.

“Your reactions are adorable.” you coo.

“—Shut up.”

divider source — @cursed-carmine ⸝⸝

author’s note — guilty as charged I really love biceps and back muscles haha and btw I have no knowledge about anatomy just so u guys know ⸝⸝

taglist — @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved , @staygoldsquatchling02 , @megumismyhusband , @angelhaezy , @totallybakedcake , @koiromii , @irethepotato , @arisu79 , @kyo-mii , @digikiiz , @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved , @magpieka , @riuvy , @lulucidal , @cosmorainpuddle , @arwawawa2 ⸝⸝

loverrin

| ANYWHERE BUT WORK | SIR CROCODILE

summary: as both a former warlord and headliner of the cross guild, sir crocodile has appearances to keep up. despite that, he has one major soft spot - his wife. that's why during work hours, he has to pretend he barely knows you, lest he show you the affection he so desperately yearns to. pairing: crocodile / secretary! reader wc: 2.0k tags: f! reader, fluff, crocodile loves his wife, soft crocodile, i'll stand by that agenda forever why would he marry you if he hates you and neglects you, he pampers the shit out of you, mihawk comes thru for the clutch

"Good morning, sirs." You greeted your three bosses as they walked into work together towards the conference room, sitting at the desk just outside.

"Goooood morning!" Buggy chirped, flashing you a thumbs up. "Keep up the good work today!" Mihawk inclined his head slightly towards you, a silent show of respect for both your hard work - and, more likely - putting up with Buggy all the time.

"Meetings." Crocodile asked shortly, taking his cigar out of his mouth and hiding it behind his back as he caught your glare towards him.

"Certainly, sir." You said calmly, eyebrow twitching just the slightest bit. You'd told him to cut down on the smoking, especially indoors. "The three of you have your bi-monthly bounty hunter meeting today, so please be sure to have new bounties on Marines prepared by noon. Aside from that, standard operations."

"Thank you." Mihawk said, walking towards his office, likely to grab his documents per your instruction, as the meeting was just a few hours away.

"What should I do until the meeting?" Buggy blinked, pointing at himself.

"Prepare?" Crocodile's deep voice rumbled, as he scoffed in disbelief. "Do you need to be coddled every second of your day?"

"I was just checking if there was anything else I needed to do!" Buggy exclaimed, pointing at you. "Our cute little secretary has all the info I need!"

Crocodile crushed his cigar in his hand, still behind his back. The ashes fell to the floor. "Just get the papers."

A bead of sweat rolled down Buggy's face, collecting pale makeup as it reached his chin. "I sense I've done something wrong." He turned on his heel and fled into his office, locking it tightly.

Crocodile turned back to you, saying nothing. You flipped through your papers, checking through any calls that you might be expecting or need to make - likely for Crocodile himself, who was always on the lookout for new business partners.

The man began to reach into his coat pocket for a cigar, only to stop himself. He was still in front of your desk. You glanced at him for just a second, before opening the drawer of your desk and handing something to him.

"Your lunch, sir." You said, as he took it from you. "You forgot it at home again."

His jaw clenched, and he opened the container with his hand, peering inside. His favorite, grilled crocodile over rice. Some vegetables with teriyaki sauce, some fruit for dessert. A note stuck to the lid, saying "Do your best today!"

He tucked the lunch container into his inner pocket, and his hand flexed as if to reach for you. Your eyes shot to his, before sliding behind him. A warning.

Crocodile followed your gaze, sighing as he saw Mihawk's piercing eyes observing the two of you from his office window. He blinked once, before flicking his wrist to roll down the curtains, likely returning to his paperwork.

"Be careful, now." You said, jotting down notes for your call at two. "Best to follow the rules you set."

You held no grudge against your husband for the decision he made. It was likely best for you, too, if he pretended to only know you in a coworker capacity, lest people begin to think you didn't work for the position.

Plus, had he not set the rule for the two of you, it was likely that he'd be attached to you all day until you both went home together - and he'd be attached to you then, too.

"...Yes." He muttered, watching you work. He began walking away, but paused right as he reached his door, turning just the slightest bit. "Do your best today."

You smiled, stopping your notetaking to meet his eyes. The moment your eyes met, he looked away, as if he couldn't bear to see you any longer. "I'll see you after work, Sir."

Each day was just like that. Absolute torture. He wanted nothing more than to sit in the same room as you, have you tuck into his side for hours on end, reading newspapers in silence and discussing any new developments in the world.

A domestic life, like a normal husband and wife. His time in Alabasta with you was rather close to that, before that damned Straw Hat came along. But now, Straw Hat wasn't even the problem.

The Cross Guild was formidable, to say the least. All former warlords, all incredibly strong pirates, all (except, perhaps Buggy - though maybe Crocodile could be nice and give it him the credit) capable of toppling the power structure of the sea.

Yet, that wasn't the issue either. Power was not the issue. The issue was that his coworkers - your coworkers, were incredibly nosy. Buggy was much more perceptive than he let on, he had to know something was going on. Of course, then, he spent his free time teasing Crocodile purely for the sake of it, just to get a reaction out of him.

Mihawk never gave an indication that he knew anything. But he didn't have to, because both of you could always feel his eyes on you, observing every move, every gesture, the slightest touches.

So you both agreed to pretend not to know each other outside of a coworker capacity, for the sake of reputation and for the sake of work. You were the Cross Guild's formidable secretary, efficient, quick, and diligent. You didn't want that spoiled for you, nor did Crocodile want to appear soft.

But god, was it hell. When you had free time, you would run their errands. Bring Buggy news on Straw Hat and Shanks, bring Mihawk the newest books he wanted to read (and secretly, updates on Zoro and Perona), bringing Crocodile more cigars and the freshest newspapers.

Buggy would always try to keep you longer than needed, making idle chit-chat. You'd entertain it, because at the end of the day, you had three bosses and he was unfortunately one of them - plus, he was actually quite good company and very funny to listen to.

During times like this, you could always feel Crocodile's temper simmering behind his door.

Mihawk never caused problems like that. He would nod in appreciation, perhaps occasionally ask you for a wine catalogue, but he'd never pry, and you'd typically be on your way within a few minutes.

For some reason, visiting your husband was the most awkward. The two of you would broil in silence as you darted around the office, ensuring that everything was in order, sometimes handing him yet another meal if he was working late.

He'd do his best to make normal conversation like the two of you did at home, but he had immense difficulty doing so without eventually doting on you.

He'd always start missing you most around midday, because there was typically enough work in the morning that he could busy himself with paperwork and distract himself from his wife, who sat just outside his office working herself.

But at midday, it seemed like it was more than just four hours - more like four days, since you'd woken up just a bit before him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his chest, peppering kisses all over him before you went to get ready for work, going in a hour before he did.

Instead of lying in bed to catch an extra hour of sleep, he'd watch you get ready, smiling when you put your work outfit on, whether it be skirt or tights, pants or dress. If you allowed it, he'd comb through your hair gently as you did your morning skincare routine. If you had extra time before leaving, you'd help him slick back his hair, checking his hook for rust, and fluffing up his coat.

You'd both put your wedding rings on a discrete, thin chain around your necks, letting it hang like a necklace during work hours and still keeping it on you. It was likely easier to just leave the rings at home, but Crocodile would rather die than leave the strongest sign of your bond behind.

So you can imagine how tiresome it was for him to have to go into work and pretend the two of you had nothing.

"Your wife seems a bit upset." Mihawk said, face covered by a book and his outlandishly large hat. His body was leaned back deeply into his chair, the late night getting to him. Buggy had gone home for the night, but Mihawk and Crocodile were still in, having an actual job to do.

Crocodile stiffened in the chair across from Mihawk, eyes automatically sliding to your desk outside where you looked exhausted, arguing with someone on the Transponder Snail as you rubbed your temple with your free hand. You felt his gaze, smiling at him weakly, before turning your attention back to the snail.

Crocodile sighed. There was no point in lying to Mihawk - he wasn't the type to initiate conversation, especially not about a topic he wasn't sure he was knowledgeable about. It was a long time coming, him addressing your relationship.

"It's our anniversary." Crocodile responded, voice deep and exhausted as he flipped through the newest bounties he was going to put out, ensuring that the values were correct before they were released. "Neither of us would prefer to be working so late today, but it can't be helped. It isn't as if our so-called 'President' will be much help when it comes to proofreading."

Mihawk calmly closed his book, looking over to your desk. Of course, you noticed this too, shooting him a strained smile as you leaned back in your chair, face getting gradually more agitated with whoever was on the other end of the call. His eyes slid back to Crocodile, whose cigar was whittling away in his mouth, ashes uncharacteristically falling all over his lap as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Just this once." Mihawk said, reaching his hand out for Crocodile's papers. The man looked up inquisitively, puffing out a large cloud. "I'll cover your workload, just this once. Go home, and spend time with your wife."

"There's no need." Crocodile protested. In all fairness, there's nothing he'd like more than to go home now, but he'd never want to owe Mihawk a thing, nor would he want to seem less capable. It was bad enough that Mihawk knew of your relationship.

"Don't think of it as a favor." Mihawk sighed, standing up slightly to pluck the papers out of Crocodile's hand, before sitting back down and starting to read. "You and your wife stay after hours the most out of any of us. In a way, I'm paying you back - so leave the papers with me and go celebrate your anniversary."

Crocodile put out his cigar in the ashtray next to him, staring at Mihawk. The greatest swordsman in the world merely ignored him, eyes focused on the papers intensely, determined to do the job right. Plus, he had a point, and Crocodile knew it. It was you and him that stayed late the most often.

If there was one day you two could slack off, it should be this one.

Crocodile slung his coat over his shoulders, heading for the door before pausing, hand on the handle. "I appreciate this, Mihawk."

"Don't mention it." He shrugged, sipping his wine and yawning a bit. "Just ask your wife to bring me the newest wine catalogue tomorrow."

Crocodile nodded, swinging the door outwards and walking to your desk, gently taking the receiver out of your hands and hanging up the Transponder Snail.

Clank.

You blinked at him, eyes weary and inquisitive. Before you could ask, he slung his coat over your shoulders and helped you out of the chair, pushing it into the desk. Then he lifted you up, a warm hand holding your shoulders, cold hook carefully circled around your thigh as he walked out of the building.

"We're going home, love." He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Good work today."

You relaxed in his arms, practically melting. "Mihawk felt nice today, did he?"

He pressed another kiss to your cheek, making you laugh. "Certainly. Please bring him the newest wine catalogue tomorrow. Perhaps we should gift him something, too.

"I'll prepare the best we have."

thecorefrisk

Warning: pseudocest/incest, omega Bruce, Alpha (male) reader, dub-con/non-con, Bruce can run a hand through your hair and tug on it as well, oral sex, etc.

Bruce doesn’t trust many alphas enough to allow them to enter his nest. Especially while he’s in heat.

You, of course, are one of those many. Unfortunately, you also happen to be his oldest son.

—

A loud stream of motor-like purring reverberated through the nesting room. Bruce’s hands were curled into your hair, fingers running over your scalp in all the motherly fashions only being in heat could summon out of him.

Situated between his thighs was you—nose deep in his cunt, hair stuck to your forehead as sweat collected at your brow, and your clothes lost in some corner of the room. Taking care of dear old dad.

It wasn’t like an alpha’s knot, that you knew. So it would only keep him satisfied for an hour or two before he started pawing at your cock again.

But, the reason he trusts you is because of the fact that you have never even tried to knot him. And you won’t be betraying that trust now.

You ever so gently slide your tongue into your dad’s cunt, barely restraining a purr of your own when his hips follow your mouth.

It’s just you and him. You’re not about to ruin that just because your dick is hard.

You nuzzle into his hand, allowing yourself to purr into it, when he slides a hand from your curls down to cup your nape and jawline, spreading his legs further.

Yeah, you’re not about to change it all.

—-

Bruce wants you to knot him REAL bad. Every time he has a heat he literally invites you to take care of him and you think he doesn’t want you to knot him but he’s sitting there like, “Why is my alpha son not making hot sweaty love to me right now this instant?” Like, he’s feeling a little insecure outside of heat brain since he thinks you don’t WANT him and just come out of the kindness of your heart or some shit.

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