#🐞 anon!

[l3viat8an]

New anon here, could I be 🐞 anon?

Anyways, I’m here with mildly thirsty thoughts

Playing games with Levi and stretching between rounds and just sinfully moaning and suddenly he starts losing a lot more

You’re too distracted with the game to notice his tail wrapping around your thigh or how he keeps shuffling around in his seat until his tail starts tickling your sides

You think he’s trying to distract and when you look over he’s flushed red and looking pretty much anywhere but you and he can’t help but think how much he wants to draw that sound from you so he can hear it again

(I’m sorry fjdjfjdjffj I’m a whore for this man)

Ofc!! Welcome 🐞!!!

and because Levi needs to hear that sinful sweet sound again and now you’ve obviously noticed his tail, it tugs you up out of your seat and closer. probably all the way into Levi’s lap 😏

Which gets a little gasp from you but that’s still not the sound Levi’s looking for….his eyes finally locking on to you, as his tail start roaming your body, squeezing whatever part it can reach trying to see what will get him the right reaction~

[artdcnaldson]

i want older dilfy art to call me kiddo while he fucks me... IM SORRY

-🐞

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ you get it!!

TW: Dubcon due to no verbal consent given, but both parties are VERY enthusiastic

But yeah… being the cute little babysitter he and Tashi hire!! He calls you kiddo conversationally, just a way he tries to remind himself how young you are. He’s all hey, kiddo, and how’s college, kiddo? You really are so young— in college, can’t even drink legally yet. That doesn’t stop him from wanting you so bad. For waking up hard and drenched in sweat beside his wife after he’s dreamed about fucking your sweet pussy.

You’re a fan, you watch his matches. After you’d been working for them for a month, you shyly brought out a shirt for him to sign. He fantasized about you wearing it to bed with nothing beneath for fucking days after, jerked his cock raw imagining your body beneath the oversized fucking merch.

But he shouldn’t. You’re a kid. You’re too young. You're begging for it.

There you are— sitting on the sofa while you wait for Art to call his driver to take you home. He coddles you too much, wastes his own resources on you. His driver, his black card, anything you want. Your pretty legs are tucked under your body, beneath the hoodie of his you wear.

Sorry, Mr. Donaldson, I just got cold and you said to help myself to whatever I need.

It makes sense that you're freezing. You show up in tiny little athletic shorts and big tee shirts. Kind of like Tashi used to wear, back in college. He supposes some things don't change. It also makes sense because he keeps the house frigid so he can leer at the hard bud of your nipples poking through your shirts. Also like Tashi. Whatever, it's his house, he can do what he wants.

You look so tiny in his clothes, pretty and young. Swamped in the fabric, letting your scent mingle with his. He wants to bury his face in the fabric, breathe deep. He wants to fuck you with his hoodie on, pin you down on the couch, tug your panties to the side, and sink right in. You’d get so wet, he’s sure of it. Cream around his cock so much that it would sound fucking obscene.

“Mr. Donaldson?” You break his train of thought, smiling pretty over at him. “Are you calling your driver?”

No. “Yeah,” he says, and grabs his phone from his pocket. His thumbs fumble with his passcode, and you laugh softly as you watch him struggle. Like it’s a game, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

He feels the soft weight of your hand on his thigh— timid, testing. Your fingers flex, dimpling his thigh through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. He looks down before he thinks to look at your face. Pretty, manicured nails, a purity ring that’s clearly just for decoration. Only inches away from the spot where he’s tenting the fabric of his pants.

When he finally tears his eyes away to meet your gaze, you look at him through wide eyes and pretty lashes. “Do you have to?”

Words fail him. He swallows hard, tries to think of the many things he should say. I’m married. You’re the babysitter. You’re too young for me. I’m happily married. I’m married. Your pretty hand palms him through the cotton fabric of his pajamas and he lets out a helpless groan.

“Fuck, kiddo—“ It slips out like nothing, and you smile wickedly at the words, taking it as encouragement to keep going, coaxing him to full hardness. “You’ve gotta— ngh— stop—”

But thinking that doesn’t stop him from bucking up into the warmth of your hand, seeking that friction as you smile softly up at him. “Do you want me to?” You ask, grinding the heel of your palm against his cock. He groans, head falling against the back of the couch as his dick kicks in interest.

He doesn’t want you to stop, but he needs you to, so badly. “I’m too old for you,” he pants. He lifts his hips so you can tug his pajamas and briefs down his legs. “I’m— mmm— I’m married.” He can’t stop himself, he needs you to get a clear head and realize that fucking the married father of the kid you’re babysitting is wrong.

But you won’t. God, you won’t. You’ve been fucking aching for it since the first night on the job, when he handed you a check and patted your back and thanked you for taking good care of his girl.

You knew he was married, you didn’t care. There were plenty of movies about married men fucking their nannies, plenty of stories in gossip magazines about rich and famous guys doing it. Besides, Tashi’s away, Art’s lonely. Look how hard he gets just from sitting next to you! Someone has to take care of him while she’s gone.

He’s hot in your grip— pulsing and dribbling precum. When your thumb sweeps over his tip to gather it, he groans and bucks into your grasp. You smile like you’ve won a prize and continue the persistent glide of your hands along his length.

“You’re so big,” you say, like you’re surprised by it. He’s definitely bigger than your ex boyfriends— longer, thicker. An insistent heat pools between your thighs, slick and dampening the cotton of your panties. His cheeks flush when you compliment his size, and you follow his half-lidded gaze to where he’s watching your small hand pump along his cock. Oh. He’s so easy.

“I don’t know if you’ll even fit, Mr. Donaldson.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He slings an arm across his eyes, like covering them could change what’s actively happening. “Fuck, kiddo, you can’t say things like that.”

You draw your lips into a pout and sling your leg over his lap, so you’re settled firm and warm and alive, right above where he wants you. “Why not?” You ask, leaning in to nuzzle right at his jaw. He pants hot against your ear. “You wonder about it, don’t you? How you’d ever manage to stuff your cock inside of me when I’m so small and tight down there.”

His hand is fisted into the sofa cushion— you have to pry it off, and up. His hand fits between your legs easily, like it belonged there. Thick fingers pressed against the damp cotton shielding your pussy from him. He moans pathetically. “Jesus,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His gaze fixes on the tug of your bottom lip between your teeth, the coyness in the tiniest action. But your mouth falls open as he presses his fingers a little harder, feels the saturated fabric mold against your cunt. “Ah— yeah— just… to the side—“ You gasp. Your thighs tremble where you hold yourself up, as he hooks two fingers in the damp cotton and pulls it to the side to reveal your pretty little pussy.

A pretty gasp escapes your lips as his thumb traces the line of you, from your twitching hole, desperate to be filled, up to your aching clit. All of that youthful bravado disappears the second he touches your cunt where you need, replaced with an all-consuming, primal need. “Please, please—“ You gasp.

He could say no. He should say no. He should pull your panties back into place, fix your shorts, and send you on your way with his driver. But he doesn’t. “Hold your shorts to the side,” he says, and you obey immediately, like you’ve been compelled to. Your pretty fingers hook into the nylon fabric, gather up the cotton of your panties too, and you tug them so he can have full access to your cunt.

“C’mere, kiddo,” he coos, tugging you closer,so you’re just barely hovering over his cock. You’re panting, breath shaky from anticipation as you grind your hips down, eyes fluttering at the tiniest bit of stimulation. “That’s it. Just relax for me.”

The press of his cockhead against your entrance makes you whine softly. Your hole twitches, pulsing, begging for more. The sound that you make when the first inch sinks inside is like pure fucking music— the way your brows knit and your free hand grabs at his shoulder to stay grounded. He stops moving, he lets you do the work.

And— Jesus— you’re fucking tight. He feels you squeezing around him like a vise, like your pussy was made to milk him dry. Soft, whimpery gasps fall from your lips alongside your staccato breaths, your face a vision of something along the lines of pain and pleasure. He mouths at your jaw, mumbling against your skin. “You’ve almost got it, kiddo, just a little more.”

You whine at that, brow furrowed in concentration as you finally take him to the hilt, so you’re fully seated on his cock. You look drunk on it, on him. He glances down and looks at where your pussy flares open to accommodate him and feels dizzy with the need to hold you in place and fuck into the wet, sucking heat of your cunt.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta move,” he groans. You nod breathlessly. “Can you take it? Tell me you can take it.”

A moment’s hesitation, but you nod. “I can— I can take it.”

He plants his feet and holds you by your waist, keeping you where he wants you, as he pulls out and drives back in, burying himself deep. Your moan is strangled, muffled in the fabric of his tee shirt as you bite down. He relishes in your pretty noises with each rough thrust back in, in the wet smack of his balls against your pussy, and the slick sounds of dripping, sticky arousal. Your body jostled each time he bottoms out, eyes rolling back.

This is what you’ve wanted, what you’ve been craving. Art Donaldson all to yourself, if only for the night. He’s not going to last long— not when it’s you and you’re so tight and hot around him— but you aren’t either. Clumsy, shaking hands toy with your clit as he drives himself in again and again and again. “That’s it,” he groans. “Touch yourself like that. God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight, kiddo, fuck—“

You cum with a muffled cry into his shoulder, walls spasming and gripping his cock tight as you finish. Slick, creamy arousal circles the base of his cock, makes everything sound stickier and more obscene. He fucks into you, panting and groaning the most delicious sounds as he lets your walls milk him for all he’s worth. One, two more deep thrusts and he’s done for— balls drawing up as he spills hot and thick into your cunt.

You’re limp in his arms, all tired out. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls out, leaving you empty and dripping with his spend. He’s quick to pull your panties and shorts back into place, making sure that nothing drips and makes a mess before he tugs up his own clothes. You laugh breathlessly as he lets you wrap yourself around him like a koala, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Can I go home tomorrow?” You mumble, nosing at his throat.

He rubs your back. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

[poppy-metal]

need to be young and naive and have art and pat invite me to their hotel room. need them to try to teach me to smoke weed, laugh at me when i start coughing, and then tell me theyll just shotgun it for me to make it easier. need them to get me so high and pliable and take advantage of me :((( need need need

-🐞

s-shotgunning with patrick and art..... it gives the vibes of them lounging back with their cigarettes.... they looked so fucking good there....

need art feeding the smoke into my mouth while he cups my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. need patrick who starts by mouthing at your neck, as soon as art let's you go and you exhale through your nose he's tugging you to his mouth, licking inside. and it's so overwhelming - you didn't expect to go this far, you really didn't. maye that was stupid. to go into a room with two boys, alone, but you aren't thinking clearly. it's hard too with your head all fuzzy and you think art is a good person - you've been warned about patrick, but art won't let anything bad happen to you, you're sure, he's a good guy. you relax into him. end up with your back pressed against his chest as patrick trails his kisses down your stomach - where did your shirt go? it's a crumpled heap on the floor somewhere, and patricks tongue dips into your bellybutton and you gasp. but then arts there, warm hand turning your head - and he takes another hit - feeds it to you again - his lips are so soft, you think. his hand is so sweet on you - comforting.

you're melted between them. patrick tugs down your shorts - you think you hear him say they're cute, you think you hear art agree. "fucking hot." you hear - everything is swimming. it feels good. you spread your legs when patrick parts them. your bare cunt exposed - shining the warm light of the room. you've never been touched before, not by anyone other than yourself, but you can't remember why not - everything feels good. you want patrick to touch you there. "please."

art props his chin on your head. they talk over you, and through the fog you hear bits and pieces - you think she even knows what she's begging for?/shit, man. she's so fucking wet./spread her - let me see./ god - that's a sweet fucking pussy./keep kissing her, she likes it.

you do like it. arts sweet angel kisses. pink tongue licking inside your mouth, his hands on your breasts, squeezing - you like how he moans into you, like that you're making him feel good. there's a wet and warm sensation between your legs that feels amazing - you can't look down though, art keeps your mouth hostage - but you reach down and feel something soft - hair, between your legs. patricks head. you card your fingers through his hair and tug him closer - whatever he's doing between your legs - you don't want it to stop. feels slick and hot and it send tingles through your whole body. you think it's his tongue - licking between the lips of your cunt like arts tongue is licking inside the lips of your mouth.

you want to keep feeling this good forever.

[zweiginator]

RRRRAAAAAAHHHHH that link.... going crazy y'all. twitching and screaming....

-🐞

sCREAMINGGG

imagining telling divorced!art that no guy has ever made you cum because they expect you to solely from penetration and art just pets your hair and feels so bad for you because his pretty girl deserves to feel good :((( and you tell him its okay he doesn’t have to!! that it’s your job to make him feel good. that it’s probably just a you issue. but art shushes you. says that’s ridiculous. and when he latches his lips around your clit and licks you like he wants to devour you — you do finally cum and your legs are shaking around his ears and he talks you right through it. tells you never to be with a man who doesn’t prioritize your pleasure. he hopes you’ll stay with him.

[arkhamslvts]

leaving a shitty bf with bad dick just to get w jason - who the MINUTE he finds out he never made u cum makes it happen. again. and again. and again. he’s obsessed w it - 🐞

jason’s almost shocked by the confession, her mouth agape as he looks at you “what?” and you just chuckle a little “it’s not like.. just don’t feel bad if it doesn’t happen, i’ve only ever cum on my own”. he scoffs, he almost takes offense to it, “what? you think i won’t make you cum” and you laugh again, rolling your eyes “im just saying, it doesn’t happen”

and then jason’s in between your legs, he hasn’t been down there for more than two minutes but you’re going dizzy, drunk on the feeling of his mouth on you “jason please i… more” and he provides, two of his fingers right into you, he feels the way you clench into him, he knows you’re close and he keeps going. your orgasm takes you by storm, shaking legs and gasping for air, and jason smirks a little “it’s good, isn’t it angel, you think you can give me another one?”. you don’t even have time to respond before he’s back between your thighs.

[craxkbaby]

(Platonic) Can I request Jason with a kid that's quiet and just shadows him and copies his movements, but even when nights off at one of his safe houses, the kid is just looking at him through the window beat up and bleeding and just smiles and waves and just says a random fact like; this "Mister Hood Did you know that cacti can live up to 200 years...Okay bye" and just leaves

(basically just letting Jason know there okay and alive and it becomes a normal thing and they leave random things like shiny rocks and wilted flowers they like and find pretty, I just wanted to share do with this as you will)

-🐞Anon

hello 🐞!! I apologize for taking a while to answer this! This is lovely, I love it! I can totally imagine Jason with a kid, who isn’t even his kid. I read a fic that had 9 parts to it ABOUT Jason Todd adopting! It was the sweetest lowkey made me tear up! LMAO

Jason Todd, not expecting a kid to follow him everywhere, copy his movements, act just like him. Why would he want a kid to stick around anyways?

Let’s assume Kid!M!Reader came from a bad spot, being bruised, getting into fights at some times. Of course, Jason could relate to that, making him somewhat see himself in you.

Yes.. let’s just say you can be a PROFESSIONAL YAPPER! You’re a kid, able to talk anyone’s ear off with ease. As first, it annoyed Jason. Got annoyed hearing facts that he thought would be useless to know.

“Did you know cacti can live up to 200 years?” “Did you know, that I don’t care.”

(TYPE SHIT LMFAOO OMG)

Though, the longer you stick around, the more Jason starts to care for you. Stopped trying to get you to shut up with your facts, stopped trying to push you away.

The more you came to him when you were bloody and bruised, the more he let you stay at his safe house. Too worried for you to go out and just come back bruised again!

Then you started bringing him things like rocks, rocks that caught your eye. Rocks that you thought Jason would take interest in.

Bringing rocks that shined like crystals in the sun or under some light. Obviously this peaked Jason’s interest, cause how are you finding rocks that look so lovely?

“Where are you finding these?” Jason asked as you sat next to him, showing him all the rocks you picked up on the way here. You simply shrugged shoving more rocks his way.

He secretly keeps the rocks, somewhere in his drawer or on the top of his closet shelf. Totally acts like he doesn’t care for them, but as soon as you say your goodbyes, he scoops them all up and organizing them into a drawer.

(HE LOVES THEM!)

Then your next phase starts, with the flowers. Wilted flowers, even though they don’t look like you just bought them. Jason thinks they are somewhat prettier wilted, the more flowers you bring him. He gets a vase for them!

Keeping them in a corner of a room on a dresser. He appreciates the small gifts, though still!! He acts like he isn’t interested in them at all!

Though, when you don’t show up at your usual time for a few nights in a row. He had to admit, he felt worried. How could he not?

It’s Gotham, anything could happen to you. So when you weren’t showing up, Jason stayed awake. “Kids probably just late,” he told himself.

Though one night, when you knocked on his window. Startling Jason, though the sight of you quickly easing away his anxiety. Of course, you were bruised.

You leaned on the window sill as Jason opened the window to hear what you have to say, “Hey, did you know hummingbirds are the only birds who can fly backwards?”

You said with a ridiculous smug look on your face. Jason looked at you with the plainest and irritated look on his face. Goodness! You went missing for a few days, and just to come back to tell him another one of your silly stupid facts.

You left a small rock on the window sill, before waving goodbye. Jason let out a relief sigh as he picked up the rock examining it before glancing back at you as you walked away. “Little shit..”

I did not reread this! Please ignore any typos ❤︎︎

Please don’t steal my work!! :3

[neverchecking]

OOOOHHHH hear me out ok do with this what you will:

Warriors has to have like the BIGGEST praise kink yk? Reader tells him he looks pretty? He melts. Reader says he’s doing so good? He’ll do better. Just to hear any praise come from reader’s lips.

But when someone else compliments READER? It’s like a switch is flicked inside Warrior’s head. Someone at the bar a little to fond of reader’s smile? Reader’s laugh? Hoooo boy only hylia herself can save that person now. Warriors would have to drag reader somewhere and pound it into REMIND reader that compliments come from his lips only. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’ll do what he must.

-🐞

🐞 anon. Your brain is so wrinkled. Every part of this is just *Chef's kiss* I'm hearing you out. He so unused to praise bc his higher ups just told him everything he did was wrong, so to hear he was doing something good from you?

He would take great care in absolutely destroying you for everyone else, the only name on your lips should be HIS and HIS alone Reminding you who you belong to :)

Smut so MDNI!

Smut CW: Possessive (Delusional) Wars. Praise kinks galore

・❥・Wars FOR SURE has the biggest fucking praise kink

・❥・Because let's face it, people tend to hate him. He practically brought upon the war of the Eras (Or that's what they tell him at least) and he's used to people just putting him down constantly.

・❥・And since Cia was attracted more to the power of his soul, she cared very little for who he was as a person. Just would he could provide her.

・❥・And the Captains before him treated him like shit, especially when he was a rookie.

・❥・But you? You had taken up role as a makeshift nurse when the chain had gotten hurt, the only one who braved treating him when he was angry and hurt. And when you did? You had nothing but gentle touches and kind words towards him.

・❥・It wasn't uncommon for you to look at him with starry eyes as you wrapped a gash, fawning over his dexterity on the field and how you had seen him with a sword.

・❥・You would distract him from his pain with honeyed words and praises.

・❥・It was no wonder he fell for you as fast as he did.

・❥・It was like you knew what he needed, exactly when he needed it.

・❥・And when you evolved past just praising his skills on the battlefield and into complimenting the way he had done his hair that day or the way his smile seemed to light up his features or the way you noticed how his eyes showed every one of his emotions?

・❥・He's down bad. Because he's the only one you do this with. So obviously he was the only one you wanted, right?

・❥・This was your way of telling him you like him, right? You were just too shy to come outright with it! That was obviously the case.

・❥・You ignite such a fire beneath him. He aches to impress you. You need someone who can protect you. Who can provide and give you the live you deserve to live.

・❥・He can do that. When he's fighting he's putting a million percent into it, ensuring not even a keese gets near you. When your in a market and he sees your eyes linger on something, he's handing over the rupees without so much as a second thought. He has the money and it's no issue. Not even when you bashfully attempt to wave off his act of affection.

・❥・Just let him take care of you. It would be easier for everyone.

・❥・He realizes, however, that as much as he would like it to be the case, you aren't in a bubble for his eyes only.

・❥・Other, unworthy pests can see you. And some have even dared to talk to you.

・❥・They sing their own compliments about your form or your jewelry, never the things he knows you really care about. They have no clue about your heart, that he fears is too big for this cruel world, or your brain, which works in such incredible ways.

・❥・Which cannot stand.

・❥・He's been dragged out of more than a few bars by Time or Twilight before he can launch himself at the disgraceful traitor that dares to impose on your sanctity.

・❥・That doesn't stop him from tracking this disgrace down and giving him a quick, and much too merciful, death. Anything longer would be delaying the time spent with you and he could already feel his skin itching without your presence.

・❥・ When he gets back, he's already formulating a plan to brand you as his. Because that's what you were.

・❥・You were his and his alone.

・❥・He had no issues dirtying his hands when it came to other parasites trying to impose on his territory, no, the problem came with you.

・❥・Not with anything you did, but you still needed to understand that the only praises you should listen to, come from his lips and his alone.

・❥・He would just have to remind you.

<><><><>

Your chest heaved as War's hands caged your own against the wall. The mirror in front of you fogged quickly as your hot breaths painted it with a misty sheen. You could barely see his blond hair as he gripped your hips, hips crashing with yours over and over again.

You couldn't exactly pinpoint what had gotten him so riled up, but he could.

He had taken you to a darling little bakery hidden away in some alleyway and the baker there seemed a little too friendly with you. He had kept offering you other goodies than what you had decided on, on the house he had declared, reaching for and catching your hand when you went to grab the paper bag full of treats. He was insistent on letting you know just how radiant your smile was and how he wouldn't mind seeing it more often.

Drove him absolutely fucking mad.

Wars knew he was...possessive. It was both maddening because he knew what it was like to be chained and locked down by someone too obsessive to be healthy and liberating because you were his. You had chosen to give yourself to him. You had chosen him.

And he would make sure everyone knew it.

The knights that would eye you every time you came to visit, the council members that would gawk at you every time he brought you with him to visit Artemis, the servants that would hesitate when it came to leaving your bathroom, and that fucking baker who didn't understand you were taken. That you were his.

But he'd make sure they knew. He would make sure they all knew that he had sunk his talons deep into your psyche. You were his. There was no changing this.

Maybe you could use a nice, big, shiny rock to show everyone you were his.

[ddejavvu]

okayyy !!!!! spencer girlie till the day i die

spencer is absolutely... ABSOLUTELY.... very very touchy in relationships. he cannot keep his hands off of u !! not even in a sexual way (though ofc in a sexual way too) he just always has to be touching you. hugs, kisses, cuddles..... hand holding, thigh touching, massages. he just needs his hands on you at all times 🥹

- 🐞

send me your headcanons!

--

SOBBING AND WEEPING AND CRYING 'CAUSE YEAHHH :( maybe it's cause he's touch starved, or maybe it's just because he loves you That Much, but something about it just magnetizes him to you. especially if you work together, he's more than eager to bump shoes with you under the round table or sit by your side on the jet :') kisses in the SUV before going into the field Just In Case

[fangswbenefits]

Miguel trying to keep it together when one of the other male spiders decides to overstep sweet girl's boundaries.

---

"Hey, Miguel?"

Miguel tears his eyes away from the screens and looks down to see her standing below the platform. He steps off, already feeling uneasy that she's not smiling like she usually is.

"Hey," he greets softly. "What is it?"

She struggles to put her thoughts into words, then finally takes a breath before asking, "Could... Could you maybe not partner me with James in the lab anymore? He's too touchy for my liking, and I want to make sure I can do my work without someone constantly trying to touch me. Also, the comments that he makes are a bit inappropriate for work."

Sweet girl continues to talk, but Miguel can barely think past the bubbling rage in his body. His hands clench into tight fists, and he feels his claws threatening to protrude.

Someone had touched her and made her uncomfortable. Some asshole is the reason she's not smiling right now, and the mere thought of it made him want to rip something in half.

Rip HIM in half.

"I'm so sorry," he says to her once he snaps out of it. "Thank you for telling me. He won't be returning to the lab."

Sweet girl's shoulders slightly slump in relief. "Where will he be working then?"

"Not here. I did not build this place for people like him."

She still looks tense, so Miguel takes a small step closer to her, his voice lowering to a soft level. "I promise," he says, "he won't even get near you again, let alone touch you again. I'll take care of it while you and Jess handle your mission. You already did enough by telling me. I'll take it from here."

Finally, she gives a gentle and relieved smile. "Thank you, Miguel."

"No problem. Go get some rest, okay? If you need me, just use your watch to get a hold of me."

She nods, gives him a departing wave, and leaves. He waits until she's fully out before heading back up to the platform, furiously typing on his screen and bringing up James' profile.

He won't be returning to HQ.

He'll be lucky if he even returns back to his home universe alive.

- 🐞

HELP! That James dude is D E A D. Literally. Dust.

Miguel would fling him to the damn sun

[seattlesellie]

i have a feeling that college au ellie has a retainer that she has to wear at night, but she avoids it as much as possible. and one time you catch her with it in and she gets defensive, making up lame excuses.

-bug

she’d scream at you like “TURN AROUND— please turn around right now” and like pull it out of her mouth and wipe her stupid spit away with the back of her hand and go bright red and try and tell you “it’s something i’m trying on it’s for halloween” and you’d be like “what the fuck are you dressing up as?” and she’d be all nervous and helpless 😭🥺

“a cool… fucking robot can you just please turn around?”

“a robot with a retainer?”

“it’s not a retainer leave me alone oh my fucking god”

[tangytiramisu]

Would la squadra let their S/o put makeup on them?🤓 I feel like Pesci definitely and ghiaccio would be hesitant. What abt you?

Oh this is a funny question xD You’re right about Pesci and Ghia! Pesci would also be hesitant at first but he loves you so he’d eventually cave. Ghia has to have been with you for a long time to let you do it lmao

Risotto and Prosciutto will have to be convinced and maybe even pled with. We all know how carefree Melone and Formaggio are so they’re up for anything. Illuso almost always says no so you’ll straight up have to bribe him 😭

[l3viat8an]

Hello I’m here with more of my Levi brainrot.

NSFW thoughts 🗣️

I would kill someone to hear him whimper. Like— overstimulating him so hard he’s squirming and whimpering, begging for you to stop but holding onto you so you can’t move off of him.

Also, I think he would like! Biting. Like yes babygirl sink your teeth into my shoulder I don’t mind ‼️‼️ I will wear a tank top so everyone can see the bruises ‼️🗣️🗣️

-🐞

Nsfw content MDNI

random kinda related idea- but imagine asking Levi if you can record his little whines and whimpers for later!! Boy probably passed out or got whiplash from nodding so fast- like you, the person he is insanely down bad for, want a whimper audio of him???? He’ll do it!! I mean yea he’s embarrassed but he’ll do it!!!

He loves biting!! I asked him personally lolol He loves it even more if it’s mutual biting / marking. Like just cover his neck and shoulders in your marks and he’ll do the same!!

He’ll even wear a low-ish v-neck the next day so you can both admire your handiwork. Just don’t make him leave his room-

[artdcnaldson]

ARARARRARARARRARA

HIS RACKET

stop. ✋. i am unable to control and contain myself. i need mean mean mean art to fuck pats sister with his racket after losing a match because she was distracting him. she was constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, short short skirt, flashing him her pretty panties. need him to taunt her and tell her how his racket barely fits in her tiny little virgin pussy :(((( but stuff her full of it anyway :((((( he really is doing anything to keep himself from putting his cock in her :(((( i need him i feel sick and horny. it's now his favorite racket and his lucky charm i'm dying

-🐞

RAHHHHHHHHH

Like god. Just thinking of you showing up to one of his matches in a little denim miniskirt and one of his Stanford tennis shirts you stole <3 you look so sweet, you cheer the loudest every time he manages to get a point.

He usually wouldn’t be able to see you very well from down on the court, but, god, you’re front row and he can see the flash of white panties beneath your skirt, the bounce of your tits when you excitedly cheer. And maybe you were earnestly cheering for him, you didn’t even realize what you were doing, but that brainless look you give him when he confronts you after the match just frustrates him even more.

“I’m sorry you lost, Art,” you say as you follow him inside his dorm like a lost puppy. The fact that he didn’t stop you was exciting, like maybe he as going to break finally, that he saw how much you cared. “But you looked so great out there. You should’ve won. I think the line judges totally fucked you ov—“

He has you pinned against the door and you go quiet. “I would’ve won,” he says firmly. “If you hadn’t been flashing your panties like a fucking groupie.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh… I didn’t mean to.” Which was a lie. Of course it fucking was.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes you fucking did. You’d do anything if it meant you’d have something filling your pussy.”

Something flashes in your eyes. Excitement? Shock?

His hand moves between your thighs, feeling the damp spot on your panties. “How long have you been wet?”

A shaky breath escapes you as his fingers press against the seam of your pussy, avoiding your clit with each pass. “Art—“ you whine, embarrassment dripping from your tone.

Why should you be embarrassed, though? You were the one slutting yourself out for his attention, weren’t you? Flashing your panties, throwing yourself at him at any chance. He’d done much worse to you, touched you in ways that were unforgivable. At least, they would be to Patrick.

It’s infuriating, that you have the audacity to act like some demure fucking virgin. Like you haven’t fucked yourself on his bed, haven’t gotten off to him degrading you and cumming down your throat.

But you don’t even have to answer. He knows that you’ve been soaked since the second you sat down in the stands, that your little body has been absolutely thrumming with need and want. That you’d dressed that way with the intentions of getting him so riled up he’d need to take it out on you.

And he would. He’d give you something to stuff you full, keep you satisfied.

“Lay down,” he says, and you obey so easily. You settle on top of his bed, chest heaving with anticipation. He slips your panties down your legs, he can practically smell your need. He wants to just bury his face between your thighs, lick at your core until your taste is all he knows. Make you cum again and again and again until your clit feels numb and you beg for him to stop. “You want me to fill you up, hm?”

You nod, irises practically swallowed by your lust-blown pupils. “Mhmm. Please, Art.”

A smile spreads across his lips. “Yeah? And you’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”

You nod, almost frantic. “Yes, anything.”

He wants to save the image of your expression in his memory forever. Your wide eyes, the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip. As he grabs a racket from his bag. It’s new, the handle freshly wrapped. You let out a soft noise, involuntary as you look at it. “Art—“

He tosses the racket a few times in his hand. “I thought you said anything?”

You make a face. “I don’t think it’ll fit. I’m a v—“

“A virgin,” he finishes for you, dripping condescension. “Sure, but I know your fingers aren’t cutting it when you fuck yourself. What do you use, huh? Did you and your little friends buy pink sparkly dildos at the mall?”

Your face burns and you look away. It’s too specific of a description, and you know he knows. That he’d snooped one of the times that he had to carry you back to your dorm and found your stash of toys and the fucking spank bank under your bed. Which was mortifying in and of itself— you had fucking clip outs of him from the campus newspaper and posters of the Men’s tennis team in there. You hated that he knew just how obsessed you were with him.

“It’ll fit,” he says. “I’ll even warm you up first. I’ll give you my fingers. I’m not that mean.”

Your tongue darts out, wets those pretty lips of yours. And you nod.

His finger slides in so easily that he almost moans. You’re so warm, so tight around him, slick and obscenely wet. One finger and you’re reduced to mewls and whines. Little pants of yes, so good, thank you, art art art.

Your body accommodates him so easy, opening up like a flower for him. A second finger plunges inside your cunt and your juices drip down his fingers, down your ass. You’re wetter than anyone he’s been with before. It’s not just that you’re a virgin— he’d fucked virgins before— it’s that you’re so fucking obsessed with him.

“You really are tight,” his voice comes out a little shaky, affected. How could it not when he has three fingers knuckle deep in your sweet, virgin pussy? When your walls clench and flutter around the intrusion, when you get wetter and wetter so his fingers squelch with each thrust in? “I don’t know if it’ll fit. But we’re gonna try, aren’t we?”

Yes, Yes, Yes. The response falls from your lips like prayer, like worship.

He waits until you’re all pliant and relaxed beneath him, moaning prettily. When your pussy feels supple and opens like it needs to take more. He grabs the racket and he almost backs out, almost stops himself, but you look at him with hunger and want. You need to impress him so badly— to accept whatever he gives him.

There’s a first time for everything. He tries his best to slick up the handle with lube, not that you’re lacking in that department. He watches your cunt pulse, your hole clenching as he practically jacks off the tennis racket. Oh, you want it so bad.

“Hold your legs up,” he instructs. You’re chewing on your lip as you do, tucking your hands beneath your knees, leaving your cunt exposed and glistening in the shitty light of his dorm room. “Relax. You wanted it, so lay there and take it.”

He presses the handle against your cunt, listens to the slightest intake of breath as it breaches your tight entrance, as your body stretches to accommodate it. It’s a stretch, god, it’s obscene. Your tiny little pussy wrapped around the handle like it’s a dick.

“Ah, f-fuck—“ You’re whimpering, crying for it, little feet kicking as he presses it in deeper. “Big— it’s big.”

He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, and you’ve pushed that limit many times before. He’s fantasized about it before, the idea of it. Of some faceless, nameless woman lying all spread out beneath him, crying out with pornstar moans while he fucks her with the handle of his racket after a game.

He blamed Patrick for that one. For planting that seed.

But now he has you. Lying beneath him with your face screwed up in pleasure, your mouth ajar as he pushes it deeper, deeper, deeper. “Tell me how it feels,” he goads once it’s fully sheathed inside of you.

It takes a moment for the question to register— he sees it in the lazy blink in your eyes, how they’re glassy when they meet his.

“Mmm… so— so full,” you moan. Your expression is akin to disappointment as he slowly withdraws the racket, only to push it back in. Your eyes roll back, toes curl and flex.

“You don’t feel gross? No shame at all?” He asks.

You should. You definitely should, but right then you can’t find it in yourself to. You shake your head. “I just— nghh— just want whatever you give me.”

God. You shouldn’t tell him that, shouldn’t willingly hand over that much power. His head swims with it.

“No fucking self respect” he mutters. “Jesus Christ. Such a fucking slut.”

But that just encourages you. “Just your slut, Art, all yours.”

God, you’re so fucking wet, dripping down to your asshole, down onto the sheets. He figures he could make you squirt, that you’d let him play with your pussy until you gushed like a fountain. He could probably do anything he wanted and you’d take it with a smile.

“You need t’ cum?”

You nod quickly, moaning. “Fuck— yeah, so bad, Art, so fucking bad.” Your cunt squeezes around the handle of the racket, like your body is trying to suck it deeper. “Touch me— touch me, I need—“

He knows what you need. And he shouldn’t. But what the fuck is he holding back for at this point? He moves his free hand to your clit, rubs in firm circles as he shallowly thrusts the racket.

The cries that escape you are like music to him, so delicious, so fucking debauched. Your feet kick pathetically, your back arches off the bed. It’s almost adorable.

“You have ten seconds before I stop,” he warns. You cry weakly, grind your hips up against the handle as he fucks you with it. He counts aloud, watches the way your breath heaves as you get closer. He can practically feel your racing heartbeat in your clit.

“C-cumming, cumming—“ you whine. He’s at two— your body is right on the edge, you want it so bad.

“Come on, give it to me,” his voice is low, rough with need. He meets your gaze, and he grins at how wrecked you are, how pathetic he can make you.

You cum just like that, leave a ring of cream at the top of the handle as he fucks you through it. He reduces you into weak moans, makes you go limp beneath him.

When he eases the handle out, he marvels at the sight of your pussy, smeared with arousal, swollen and open for him. He rubs his thumb against your clit and he watches your hole twitch for him, still wanting anything you can give.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He should have taken a picture.

[zweiginator]

ok ok good cuz i am NOT done talking about college!artrick, it's literally my favorite version of them atm. (potential tw: dubcon and drugs 😵‍💫)

i need to be so fucked up/out that i'm unable to do anything, just totally limp. idgaf if it's from like overstimulation, weed, too many cocktails, or just like being fucked so good my brain turns off. completely helpless and at their mercy, y'know. need to have art and pat grab my jaw and nod my head for me, i'm too weak to do it by myself. :(((( but it's okey, they know what i want, they know what's right for me 😵‍💫

maybe it's them teaching me how to smoke weed and i just get waaaaaay too high. i was havign a hard time learning how to do the inhale properly, and they insist on repeating it until i get it right, and suddenly it's just too much too fast. and they just have to take care of me!!!!

and poor baby, my little pussy is so wet, she's crying for attention :((( they should help her shouldn't they, we wouldn't want her to cry? look at her so sad and lonely, bet she feels so empty doesn't she baby? she just wants some attention, huh? i'm too gone to properly give them an answer, but they know what i want, theyll nod my head for me :((((( RRRRAAAAAHHHHHH

-🐞

cw: noncon stuff, somno stuff, drug usage

college!artrick who quickly became your best friends. it was unconventional, at first. art had hit on you at the run-down bar that had since closed. and patrick, being the good samaritan and even better wing man slash best friend that he was — told you to go for it. to ditch your stupid asshole boyfriend that he mentioned hadn’t even bought you a drink. to fuck art.

“it’s truly harmless.” and your boyfriend was a douchebag. he hadn’t bought you a single drink but was nursing on his sixth beer. watching your empty hands and then turning to his equally awful friends to loudly ogle women that would never give them a second look.

art was sheepish and didn’t look at you. but obviously, patrick had gotten the idea of art wanting you from somewhere. so you squeezed in between them and nudged art’s shoulder and tried to get him to come out of his shell.

“he’s weird when he smokes weed.” patrick whispered in your ear and smoking a joint sounded way fucking better than swiveling on an unoiled barstool off campus in uncomfortable heels.

“do you have some?”

art looked high and he smiled at you for the first time since you met them. he pulled a little baggy from his jeans and nodded his head towards the door.

“can we go to your place?” patrick asked. he explained how he was visiting, how art was on the tennis team and his roommates slash teammates—one of which who was the coach’s son—were major fucking snitches. so it really had to be at your place.

you rolled your eyes and agreed that they could come over.

and they sat on the balcony all night with you. forty three missed calls from your boyfriend didn’t cajole you from the trance you were in with them. of course, they were hot. and the humidity was suffocating even past midnight. so of course, their shirts hung over the railing of your balcony as the three of you passed a joint around, leaning forward in plastic green lawn chairs, splintered and uncomfortable on your asses.

your high was heady, and patrick was feeling bold.

“if you’re not gonna make a move then i will.”

so patrick kissed you. it was a parched and awkward kiss at first; you both were dizzy from too much weed, your mouths awfully dry. but then art joined and his kisses were sloppy, his tongue prodding into the corner of your mouth until you grabbed his hair and kissed him proper. patrick sat back and reveled in his creation, swigging a beer he stole from the fridge.

and your relationship with both of them just sort of remained stagnant.

you had long since dumped your boyfriend after he told you he fucked a blond sorority girl that night you had met the boys. you just shrugged and told him it was whatever—you made out with two tennis players anyway.

and people around campus had come up with filthy rumors and lies. patrick didn’t live in town. people conjured up fantasies about patrick being a prostitute. that art was a goody two shoes and wouldn’t fuck you so he paid someone else to.

it got so tiring that art had confronted his team and coach about it, after it had gotten to them. said his relationship with you was none of their business, but slammed down an old photo of him and patrick when they were kids at the tennis academy, their cheeks plump and red from the sun, a racket in each of their grasps.

it wasn’t until one friday night that everything between the three of you changed. the ticking time bomb’s fuse had finally burnt to its end. patrick was back in town for the weekend and art was excited about it. he hadn’t been there since that fateful first weekend.

your roommates were out of town, too. so it was perfect. art picked patrick up from the airport and brought him to your place. you found it odd that the first place they would go was to your apartment. but you let them in nonetheless.

“what is your plan for the night?” you asked.

art took a shitty bong out of his backpack and a bag of weed.

“just smoking? there’s nothing else you wanna do?”

the boys shook their heads like there was some ulterior motive controlling their movements.

“okay, alright.”

so you smoked. and before you had hung out with art and patrick that one night, you really hadn’t smoked all that much before. you saw art’s bloodshot eyes as a way out of the shitty bar with your boring boyfriend and you took it. you had coughed your way through the joint last time—but the bong was intimidating.

“how do you use it?” you looked at the stem of it; it was nasty and you had already given art shit for it.

“what do you mean? i thought you were a huge stoner chick?” patrick said, between coughs.

“i never said that. i dabble but pretty infrequently.”

you were sat in between them and both their sets of eyes flickered from the expanse of your neck, to your eyes, down to your lips again. a cycle of ogling you that you dismissed. and as you grabbed the bong they shook their head.

“that’s gonna make you cough like a bitch.” art warned.

“probably enough to make you nauseous.” patrick was seemingly parroting every point art was offering in favor of not using the bong.

“then what do i do?”

they said they could help you by shotgunning it into your mouth. and you had somewhat heard of that but you said that would be okay. you watched patrick light up while art sucked the smoke into his lungs. he grabbed the back of your head to pull you in and then the smoke was in your mouth.

“inhale it.”

and you did what he said, but you felt yourself stumbling over your sandals as you mounted him, still sat in the wobbly lawn chairs that could barely support the two of you.

art grabbed your waist and pulled you in by your belt loops. he was sunken in eyes, puffy and half-shut. he was chapped lips, which you licked for him. he was shoving his tongue into your mouth and you were grabbing his jaw to maneuver him how you wanted him and patrick just watched.

“your turn.” you turned to patrick, and art reached for you to stay. but then patrick took a hit with art’s kind help. and he repeated everything art did. grabbed you and pulled you to him. pushed the dank smoke into your mouth and ordered you to breathe it in.

you were so high and dizzy. outside of your body. you kissed patrick too, clawing at his chest and grinding yourself down on his very obvious erection. you were certain people could see you if your neighbors were out on their own balconies.

so you stumbled inside and into your room. patrick slammed the door and didn’t bother locking because it didn’t matter. art was on his knees, taking your sandals off. you could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel your cunt weeping with arousal. you wanted them so bad and you mumbled that as you fell on your back onto your bed.

art looked at patrick. patrick looked at art.

“what’d you say, sweet girl?” patrick stroked your cheek and pushed his thumb into your mouth. you sucked it, hallowing your cheeks.

“i want you guys.” you mumbled it softly, but that was enough for art, still on his knees, to yank your shorts down your legs.

you flipped onto your stomach and the boys looked at how your ass moved, still in your little pink panties. art kissed your lower back, your plump ass cheek. it was patrick’s turn to undress you, so he shimmied your panties down your legs and they stared at your cunt.

glistening, warm, inviting. patrick spread your legs further and you moaned. let them.

“fucking shit.” art ran his thumb through your folds. “she’s so fucking wet.”

patrick did it himself, confirming art’s conclusion.

art petted your hair. “your little pussy’s so wet.”

“i know.” you nestled your head further into the pillow.

“i bet she wants to be filled up.” patrick offered.

you nodded. it was faint, but a nod.

patrick hurried to pull his jeans down, letting his cock spring out.

but now your body was limp as you fell asleep. drool pooled onto your pillow and patrick rocked against your cunt.

“wake up pretty girl.” art shook your shoulders and you moaned.

"hm?" you giggled and art kissed you hard.

"do you want us to fuck you? fill your little pussy? she looks like she really wants it." art cooed in your ear.

"mm. yes."

patrick pulled your hips up and pushed into your cunt, using the flesh of your ass as leverage as his thrusts got harder and deeper. your body rocked forward and soft mewls and whimpers left your mouth. but god, you were so, so sleepy. just felt heavy from the weed. from the weight of patrick on top of you as he reached around to rub your clit.

you clenched around patrick.

“that feel good?” patrick groaned against your ear and you let out a tiny, almost indiscernible whimper. patrick grabbed your jaw, nodded for you.

“fuck—baby—“ his thrusts got sloppier and art was still hard.

so he pushed his boxers down and stroked his cock. up and down. up and down. you were dozing in and out of sleep; they could tell when you came to due to your sweet, saccharine moans that were pushed out of you when patrick’s cock was in you, to the hilt.

“fuck you make me so hard.” art rubbed the head of his cock against your lips. so plush. drool running out from between them. his precum leaked on your mouth and he used it as lubricant to rub himself all over your lips, your cheeks, your face.

“artie-“ you whimpered and stuck your tongue out. you still could barely open your eyes; they felt glued shut. would be easier to keep them shut.

art held the back of your head and fucked his cock into your mouth slowly.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

you sputtered around him and your eyes watered as art jerked himself into your mouth, using you. but your sounds of contentedness fueled them. your poor, limp body so high and outside of yourself. your best friends wouldn’t want you to be so empty, so alone like this.

patrick came on your back and art on your face and then they were spent and all three of you fell asleep, after they wiped you clean.

[arkhamslvts]

have u ever considered: Jason has a god kink. He died and came back and noooobody thinks that wouldn’t go to his head a lil? ??? ~ 🐞

omgsh anon this is crazy bc i was just writing smth abt priest! jason

listen guys… it’s something about erotic catholicism that just makes me wanna whimper. and jason probably meets you and you’re so innocent and such a good girl, which is surprising because i mean… you live in gotham. and jason with his big ego & his big dick just decided that he had to have you, now fast forward three months and you’re bent over his kitchen counter, and he’s got you in one of his helmets and he’s just talking. he talks like you aren’t really there but he still expects you to respond “so fuckin pretty for me… say it baby, say you’re only this pretty for me” “my fucking pussy… mine. made for me”. he wants you to worship him, he wants you on your knees when he gets home. and then he rewards you.

[ro--lal]

HI! can i get Dave or Nepeta with the genderfreakish flag (i can send it to you if need be) please!!

-🐛🐞 (i fixed the emojis!)

how about BOTH !!! dont mkake me make decisions

aslso hopefully this is the right flag ‼️